Mark claps him on the back when he tells him, grinning like a Girl Scout and laughing like he’s drunk. Lisa smiles and gives him a hug, pulls Mark away and says quietly, “go get ready.” Then it’s “all right” and “what are you gonna wear” and a high-pitched teasing “oh Jim dearie me, can I do your hair?” and Jim’s halfway up the stairs before he calls a quick “thanks” to Lisa on the couch with Mark’s head in her lap. He takes the steps by three, just because he can.

Jim gets up to his room and starts cleaning without thinking. His mind is buzzing and then all the books are back onto the shelf and his heart is racing and then all the clothes are either in a hamper or in the closet. Halfway through tucking his sheet under his pillow, he realizes that he’s still in his work clothes and collapses onto his bed, grinning.

Then it’s okay and all right as he slips off his tie and untucks his shirt, and it’s Cugino’s? and condom? before he can stop himself because he’s so full of nervous energy, like he’s going to burst if he doesn’t grin as wide as he can and fucking smile. Because it’s a date and her smile and I’ll be with her in ten years and his bed is all the way tucked now, the sheets crisp and he feels like he should bounce a quarter off of them just to be sure.

He feels almost like he’s drunk, as if he’s Mark on a standard Friday night. His overnight bag from New York lies forgotten in the bottom of his closet as he flips through, looking for those jeans and it’s too hot for a sweater, but he can’t wear his Shins shirt because that’s like he’s got something to prove, and he can’t really let her think that. White dress shirt? Black dress shirt? And what about those jeans, what if she’s expecting something more?

He hops back into his chair and spins around, feels like he’s ten years old again and just got a new Nintendo on his birthday. Pam’s a Nintendo? God, you stupid fuck. Nothing’s making much sense to him but a few things like date and jeans and take off your socks, so he does, because he’s got nothing to do with himself otherwise. He balls them up and throws them toward his hamper; midway through the air the ball comes apart and one of the socks is flying away from the other, falling limply just by his closet door.

He jumps up and grabs it and throws it back in like it’s an NBA playoff and lies on his carpeted floor, trying to calm down, and then there’s a phone in his hand and a warm buzzing noise through his ear and oh fuck what are you doing? 

She picks up on the second ring, sounding breathless. “Hello?”

“Pam?”

“Jim?” She sounds surprised. “Uh…hi!”

“Hi!”

“You all right? Are you…uh, are you reconsid – “

You stupid fuck, you dumbass, you. “No!” It comes out as a bark. “No, of course not, I…I don’t know, I just really wanted to talk to you.”

She lets out a whoosh of air and giggles uncomfortably. “Good, ‘cause I thought for a minute maybe you were calling me to, y’know, tell me you were just joking or something…I was totally gonna be like, ‘great prank, Halpert’ and like hang up on you and, ah, this story sounded much funnier before I said it.”

 “Pam?” My God, you’re in Love.  

“Yeah, Jim?”

“I’m really happy.”

He can hear her smile mirroring his. “Yeah, me too.”

“Uh, wow.” He exhales sharply. “Did I just call you right before a date?”

She giggles again, and his arm falls against his forehead. “Yeah, you did. You’re…hyper.”

“Pam?” He’s so giddy.

“Yeah, Jim?”

“I’m gonna kiss you. Oh, fuck, I mean, can I kiss you? I mean, ah…fuck,” he mutters the last bit, eyes fluttering open, mouth twisting into a sharp grimace.

“Jim.” She’s serious and different, the Pam who said “I wish you would”, not the Pam who whispered “I can’t”.

“Yeah, Pam?”

“You can kiss me.” His heart does somersaults in his chest, and the giddy smile is back. Her laughter’s louder on the phone, it seems. “My God, you’re such a dork. Is this how you get all the girls? Call them up before the first date?”

“Just the ones I like-like,” he says, sitting up.

“Glad to know I made the cut,” she sighs and opens a drawer in the background. “Jim, I’ve got to go get ready. I’ve kind of got a date with a really great guy tonight that I’m kind of really, really excited for.”

“Oh, that’s funny,” he says. “I’ve kind of got a date tonight with this amazing girl that I’m so, so excited for.”

“Hmm,” she smiles, “you’ll have to tell me about her tomorrow at work.”

“And you’ll have to tell me about this guy, he sounds like a real keeper.” She laughs and he takes the cue to end the conversation. “So, um, pick you up in like an hour and a half?”

“Yeah. Can you find my place?”

“I’ll find a way.” He smiles again, for a reason that’s not amusement or glee.

“Jim?”

“Yeah, Pam?”

“You’ll be on my doorstep in about an hour and a half,” she says softly. “You can kiss me then if you want.”

His chuckle is low and content. “A generous offer for the first date.”

“Second date, you mean. The first date involved grilled cheese and fireworks, remember?”

“And music,” he adds, “courtesy of Apple, Incorporated.”

“A kiss on the second date.” A faucet runs in the background. “Not bad, if you ask me.”

“Not bad at all, Beesly. Um, I’ve got to go take like medicine or something before my smile, ah, cracks my face in half.” She’s laughing again. “See you soon.”

“Bye Jim.”

“Bye-bye.” And he hangs up.

Jim puts the phone back onto his bedspread, steps off and yanks the comforter out from under the pillow. His hip catches the edge of a stack of papers on his desk, but he lets them fall.

He pulls out the jeans and reaches for the white dress shirt, unbuttons it a little the way Katy showed him and untucks it the way Karen liked. His hair is a little off-putting in the mirror, but he musses it up and pulls the front as far down his forehead as he can, and it’s a little better, but not much.

There’s kind of a manic spring in his step as he gallops down the stairs, grabs his car keys off of the table by the door and walks briskly past Lisa and Mark’s couch with a quick smile.

“You’re taking her out this early?” Lisa calls, stroking Mark’s hair.

“I need flowers!” Jim shouts, closing the door behind him.

Mark cranes his neck up to look at Lisa as the garage door creaks and groans shut behind the sound of his car gunning off. “Dude, he’s drunk.”