Jim’s alarm goes off but he’s already awake. He’d barely slept all night, going over things in his head, wondering what he could say to her today to put things back on track.

They had barely spoken at all Friday, after his hurtful swipe at her and her relationship with Roy. But it was true. He wouldn’t have forgotten her while she was in the bathroom at a hockey game. Of course, he wouldn’t have brought his brother. He wouldn’t leave her nearly every Friday to play poker and get drunk, and he wouldn’t always put the things she wants out of life second to his own. So many things he wouldn’t do, so many things he can’t do.

It’s frustrating. And things like dinner on a rooftop and listening to music so closely that he can smell her hair when the wind blows – these things blur the lines. Make him forget what he can do and can’t do…what he has the right to say and what he absolutely cannot say. He comes back to himself when she reminds him of where he stands in her life, what he represents. Friendship. And friends don’t go on dates.

He sits up and scrubs his hand over his face. Time for work.




He’s the last one to work because he dragged his feet all morning. His emotions are the normal bundle of nerves and anxiousness. Each morning he looks forward to seeing her, but everyday it’s becoming a little bit harder to hold back and bite his tongue. He laughs with her and makes jokes that layer over the things he really wants to tell her and quite frankly it’s becoming exhausting. His palms are sweaty as he steps out of the elevator and makes his way into the office.

She’s on the phone and she gives him a small smile when he walks in. It’s not the normal greeting, but he expected some lingering tension between them. He sits down and ignores Dwight’s speech about the importance of timeliness and it’s effect on the office. He checks his voicemail but he can’t concentrate because he is too busy wondering what his game plan is. After two unsuccessful IM attempts to put his thoughts into words, he throws caution to the wind and approaches her desk. Her head is bent down and for a minute she doesn’t seem to realize he’s there. He clears his throat and she looks up at him. She looks tired, a little weary, and he wonders, maybe even hopes, that the same things that keep him up at night keep her up too. He pushes that thought to the back of his mind and puts on a smile while looking down at her inquisitively.

“Morning. Does somebody have a case of the Mondays?”

She rolls her eyes, “You’ve said that almost every Monday since you’ve seen that movie. Doesn’t it get old?” Her tone is teasing and he feels something click into place…almost.

“Sorry. I promise I’ll retire that one for a while.”

“Promises, promises Jim.”

“Seriously, what’s wrong? You already look like you’re having a bad morning.”

“Oh yeah. Um…Michael has asked me to proof read three love letters to Jan so far this morning.” She holds up a stack of papers waving them back and forth, before tossing them back down on the desk in front of her, “Oh and Dwight nagged me for the entire fifteen minutes you were late, asking me if you were doing something to his car while I was in here keeping him occupied. So thanks for that.”

She shakes her head in mock annoyance, and he bites his lip, trying not to smile.

“Sorry about that. Woke up late.” It’s a lie, but the alternative answer, Sorry I was late Pam, I was laying in bed thinking about you, is probably not the best idea.

The silence stretches between them for a few seconds, some left over tension hanging in the air.

He leans a little closer, his voice dropping lower, “So, listen. About Friday…”

She looks confused for a minute but before he can piece together the rest of his apology she’s already waving him off, “Oh it’s fine. Don’t worry-“

She’s cut off by Michael’s voice booming through the intercom of her phone, “Paaaamm! Where is the latest draft of my letter? The one where I tell her the secret to my best magic tricks.”

Pam lets out a weary sigh before picking up the stack of letters and standing up. She looks back up to Jim, “Sorry, duty calls.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah, if I’m not out in twenty minutes please rescue me.”

He nods, laughing, “Will do.”

“Thanks.”

He watches her walk into Michael’s office and shut the door.



The morning drags on per usual and Pam spends most of it shuffling back and forth between her desk and Michael’s office. Even though they joked around a little this morning things don’t seem normal between them and the near estrangement is killing him. He wants to make it right, and he knows that the only way to do it is to assure her that they’re only friends. He knows that the mere thought of them being more than that, or the thought that she could be crossing the lines she’s carefully drawn for them scares her and he needs to reassure her. He manages to time his lunch at the same time as hers, and he joins her in the break room to eat.

She looks up at him when he slides the chair out to sit, and nods when he motions to sit next to her, asking for her permission. They sit in silence for a minute before he clears his throat.

“So, listen. About Friday.”

“Jim, it’s totally cool. We’re good.”

“No, it’s not cool Pam. Can you just listen for a minute?”

She nods, and he takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that about Roy and the date thing or whatever. It was mean.”

“It’s okay. I was sort of mean too. I know you were just joking about the whole first date thing and I shouldn’t have gotten bent out of shape.”

The words are sharp and precise and it cuts him in just the right way, because he wasn’t joking about it being a date. It was the best date he’d been on in years. But he steels himself and manages an air of indifference before pressing on, “No, it’s cool. I just don’t want things to be weird or whatever, and I shouldn’t have said something so….careless.”

That last word drops off of his tongue, heavy and loaded and he knows he’s hit his mark when her head snaps up and their eyes meet for a brief second. She looks almost guilty and he knows that even though she may not mean to, she can be hurtful too. She knows that her words hurt him in the same way that his do her, and he’s not sure if he feels relief or frustration at this revelation. Maybe a little of both.

She shakes her head, almost imperceptibly, before recovering, “It’s fine. We’re totally fine, I promise.” She looks sincere and her eyes seem to beg him to move on, away from this subject and onto safer ground.

He nods, and smiles. He’s made his point, for now anyway, and so he moves forward.

“So, how are the love letters coming along?”

She groans, and lets out a laugh and he feels his nerves subside a bit as they slide easily back into the banter they’ve perfected so well over the years.

“Oh my god, it’s horrible. Oh and he had Dwight help him with draft number eight and you don’t even want to know what Dwight’s idea of a romantic evening is.”

“Pam, are you kidding? That’s the kind of information I would kill for.” She laughs, shaking her head, but he continues because he loves that sound, loves hearing her laugh, “Seriously, you have to tell me. Oh god there are so many possibilities. So, what – does it involve manure? Or beets? You have to tell me.”

She’s laughing and her shoulders are shaking as she tries to explain, “Okay, well let’s just say that it involves orange vests and deer urine. Oh and a bow and arrow.”

He’s laughing now, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all, “No, no you cannot be serious.”

They keep laughing, and he feels a spark of electricity when he feels her hand on his arm for a brief second as she gains her composure. It feels right, like things are fixed for now, but he wonders if this will ever feel like enough.

She felt ashamed. He was disappointed in her and it made her feel…less. The way he looked at her that day in the kitchen – the concern mixed with frustration on his face, it pulled at something inside of her. Made her feel unsure and small and sometimes, angry. Because…what the hell? Who was he to tell her how to live her life, to question her choices? He didn’t understand what it was like to have to live your live along side someone else’s. To consider their feelings and how things affect your life together and just…god. Maybe someday he’d know. You can’t be selfish in a relationship.

Deep down though, she knows it’s not about that. She would never admit it out loud, she wouldn’t dare say it to Roy or Jim, but it’s not about her future with Roy or being selfish. It’s about considering more for yourself, not being afraid to leave your comfort zone, try for something more. Jim wanted that for her and that was, well, decidedly unselfish.

So she was conflicted. She sees him at work and sometimes she feels a flash of anger towards him because she doesn't owe him an explanation, but she feels like she does. The thought of his disappointment, disapproval, makes her stomach twist and her nerves stand on end and she doesn’t know why. No one else in her life makes her feel this way, and she can’t put her finger on it. Or, maybe she just doesn’t want to.

Other times she sees him though and it’s just…overwhelming. She wants to pull him into the hallway or up to the roof and just...talk to him. Tell him the things that never make it to the surface, the things that keep her up at night. That she thinks of changing things, starting over. That maybe…maybe she wasn’t okay with her choices afterall. She wants to tell him these things because he makes her feel safe when she’s near him, in a different way than Roy does. Roy makes her feel protected, watched over. And sometimes that’s nice. But Jim makes her feel like she can tell him things and he won’t judge her, hold it over her. She could open up to him and he would listen, and make her laugh, make her feel lighter. Sometimes it feels like pressure against her chest to keep from opening up to him, and just….letting go.

Avoiding him provides to be tricky though. Because he’s ten feet away from her every day, and because he’s her best friend. It’s not possible to get distance from him because her instincts say to look at him when Michael does something crazy, or lean against his desk when she has something to wants to tell someone. It’s near impossible not to join him in the breakroom for ten minutes because if she went a whole day without talking to him, really talking to him, it felt empty and lonely.

But it’s been a few days since she fought with him in the kitchen and she thinks she’s felt a shift in their friendship since then. Not tension, per se, but it’s like they’re afraid to get to close to the subject. He doesn’t ask her about any new sketches and she doesn’t mention Roy. It’s awkward when Jan stops by her desk on Tuesday to ask if she’s given the program any more thought, and she swears she sees Jim’s jaw clench when she tells Jan that she just isn’t ready yet.

So when Michael asks her to accompany Jim to pick up a cake and party decorations for Angela’s birthday (she refuses to plan her own party because it’s incredibly tacky, her words), she feels butterflies in her stomach at the thought of being alone with him. But before she can even say yes to Michael’s request Jim is up from his chair and grabbing their coats, a smile in his eyes. She can’t help but bite her lip because his enthusiasm overshadows her nerves. She pulls on her coat and follows him out to the parking lot.

********************

It’s a miserable rainy day and they run from the front doors to his car. He opens her door for her and she climbs in and shuts the door, automatically reaching across to unlock his door for him. He gets in and shuts the door and it’s just the two of them, alone in the car while the rain pounds on the windows and it suddenly feels so quiet, so intimate. A fleeting though goes through her mind that she could kiss him right here, right now, and no one would see it. The thought leaves her just as he turns to her and smiles.

“So you know, we have hours, right?” He raises his eyebrows and he looks like he’s up to something.

“Hours? Really? How long do you think it takes to get party decorations, Jim?”

He laughs, turning away to start the ignition. He rubs his hands together and holds them over the heater for a second, “Here’s the thing Pam, it’s only ten in the morning. Angela’s party won’t be until after lunch.”

“Right.”

“Right, and I’m thinking that after we pick up the cake, we’re going to have car trouble.”

She nods, catching on, “I see. And exactly what kind of car trouble?”

He shrugs, “Who knows? Flat tire? Running out of gas. Of course, we’ll have to kill some time while waiting for triple A, which could take hours in this weather, you know.”

“I’ve heard that most car related problems occur in bad weather.”

“Naturally. Have you been spending time with Dwight outside of work?”

She laughs, it’s so easy to just laugh with him, “No, I think I read it in the triple A newsletter actually”

He smiles, pulling on his seatbelt and releasing the emergency break. “So, where to?”

********************

"I had no idea that bowling alleys were open this early”, she tells him this as she’s bending over exchanging her black work shoes for a pair of ugly, size 8 bowling shoes with red and blue stripes on the sides.

“Yeah, and who knew that people actually bowl this early in the day on a weekday?”

“Well, to be fair, we’re here, so…people in glass houses and all that.”

He laughs, “Good point. I wonder if those guys over there with the cooler of beer and matching shirts are ditching work too.”

He winks at her and she feels a flush come over her. She’s ditching work. With Jim. She feels guilty for a minute, but then he picks up a pink ball and hands it to her and she can’t help but feel free and happy, “Best two out of three?”

“Absolutely.”

********************

They’re tied, one game a piece, and it’s nearly noon. They’ll have to go back to work after this, and Pam feels a pang of disappointment when she thinks of that. Her stomach growls and she realizes that she’s barely eaten anything today, and suddenly the smell of the snack bar is surprisingly appetizing.

“Hey, are you hungry? Want to eat before our last game?”

“Yeah, I’ll run up and grab us some pizza and sodas? Then I can beat you and we’ll get back to work, okay?”

She laughs, “Okay, hot shot bowler. Although I had three strikes in my last game so you might want to hold off on the smack talk.”

“I’ll make a note of that Pam, thanks.”

She watches him walk off to the snack area, and she feels oddly content. To kill time she grabs a piece of paper and pencil from her purse without even a second thought. She gets lost in sketching a picture of the family bowling in the lane next to them, and she doesn’t even hear Jim when he walks up with their lunch. He sits across from her and his eyes float down to the picture in front of her. Turning it around to get a better look, he shakes his head, “Wow. You drew this just now?”

She feels sheepish all of the sudden, even a little embarrassed, “Yeah. Just, you know, something to do while I was waiting for you.” She downplays her enjoyment of it, and she doesn’t want to think about why.

“God Pam, you’re so good at it. So much talent…” He trails off and she sees it in his eyes again, disappointment, frustration. It’s fleeting but she sees it, and suddenly feels uncharacteristically determined not to let it pass.

“Don’t do that.”

He looks up, surprised at her tone, “Don’t do what?” He’s not contrite though – he says it and it’s a challenge that he thinks she’ll back down from, but she calls his bluff.

“Don’t do that. I can see it you know, the disappointment.”

He sighs, his shoulders slumping a little, “I’m sorry. I can’t help it. It’s just that…you seemed so excited Pam. So excited. And then you talk to Roy…”

“Don’t do that,” she snaps, “Don’t. This isn’t about him.”

He looks at her and he doesn’t believe her, she knows this, but she continues, “Look. You just…it’s hard to explain. But I know what I want. I know what I need and I know that eventually….I’ll do this. I’ll take classes and do more. But just, not now.” It feels like a lie, or an empty promise but she pushes that thought out of her head. She avoids looking him in the eye, and instead focuses on the figure eights she's outlining on the table with the eraser end of her pencil.  But then she looks up for a brief second and their eyes meet, and she feels her heartbeat start to race.

He doesn’t say anything, but he’s looking at her and it’s familiar and different and nearly suffocating. It’s not mean or judgemental, but it’s like he’s on the edge of something and it seems to stretch on for a long time. She keeps talking because sometimes the silence between them says more than their words ever could and that scares her, “I just need you to back me up here, Jim. We’re not always going to agree with each other’s choices in life, but I’d like to know that I have your support no matter what decisions I make.”

He nods, his expression softening, and he clears his throat, “Yeah. I get that. Look, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to push you. Just, don’t ever give up on it Pam, okay?” He's leaning closer across the table, his hands just inches from hers.  

She pulls back and nods because she’s afraid that if she speaks she’ll cry, and she blinks her eyes while looking away for a second, quickly dabbing the corner of her eye with the cuff on her sweater.

His slaps his hand on the table two times before standing up, “Alright Beesly. Game number three. The championship game. Are you ready? Think you can handle the pressure?”

She smiles and stands up, “Whatever. Bring it. Oh and don’t forget which lane is ours.”

“One time Pam. One time I throw it into the other lane. You distracted me by laughing, and the ball slipped.”

She scoffs, “Yeah, excuses excuses. Talk about handling the pressure.”

********************

By the end of the day, things are the same. They get back to work and Dwight writes them up, and Jim laughs and throws his copy in her trashcan while leaning over her desk. They eat cake during Angela’s party and laugh at Michael doing the electric slide in the middle of the conference room. It’s normal. It’s them.

She goes home at night and stares at the ceiling while Roy snores next to her in bed. Her eyes are dry and she lays there, her breathing steady. She thinks about the chances she doesn’t take. Thinks about him and opportunity and being fine with her choices. Her last thought before drifting off is that it she shouldn’t have to convince herself, too.

He’s walking back to his car, head down, hands in his pocket, his shoulders set in a firm slope of defeat.  He is replaying the events from the work day, those last few minutes before the end of the day where he told her that it was him who complained about her.  The coldness that washed over him after that, well, he hasn’t been able to shake it yet.

The irony doesn’t escape him that, of all of the times to find the courage to be honest with her, he chooses this.  This truth.  It would have been easy for her to stay in the dark, stay angry with Angela.  But something inside him wanted to push it a little.  Push it and see if he was honest, what would her reaction be?

Of course it wasn’t what he wanted.  And he had no right to expect any different, either.  He was her friend, and he went behind her back.  He was her friend, and he was complaining, seemingly begrudging her of happiness. 

She didn’t understand, didn’t know, that each time she talked about her impending marriage, her wedding, it twisted in his gut like a knife.  She couldn’t understand because he didn’t have the guts to sit her down and tell her: I love you.  I’ve loved you for so, so long.

He’s nearly to his car when he hears the sound of heels behind him, barely has time to register who it could be when he hears her voice. She is out of breath and saying his name and it’s almost like a fantasy that he has, but..well, different.

 “Jim, hey Jim wait up...”

He turns around and waits until she catches up to him. It’s spring but when the sun starts to go down it still gets colder, and so her cheeks are red and she’s all bundled in that big white coat of hers. 

“Jim, hey sorry I wanted to catch you before you left.”  As she catches her breath, she seems to remember what happened before and her lips set in a thin line, arms crossed defensively across her chest.  She doesn’t wait for his reply before continuing. 

“So, I need to talk to you.  Well, we need to talk.  Do you have a minute?”

He licks his lips and looks over her head towards the building, scanning for Roy to see if they are alone, “uh..yeah…”

She’s nodding, a little too much, almost like she’s trying to work up the nerve to talk to him, “Okay, okay good.” there’s a beat of silence before she continues, throwing her hands up in disgust,  “So…what the hell?”

He’s taken back a bit, she’s never spoken to him like that before, never really confronted him.  She looks angry and hurt and he doesn’t know exactly what to say to her, how to explain this – all of it – without breaking their friendship into a million little pieces. 

“Yea, I uh…look I’m sorry.  I didn’t…I wasn’t trying to like, get you in trouble, but I just…”

“Well I thought we were friends.  I thought you could be honest with me.”

He bites his tongue because her throwing that word – honesty - around makes him feel torn between yelling at her, or kissing her and then asking her if that is the kind of honesty she wants.  But he just shakes his head and turns to unlock his car door, because he really truly doesn’t know how to answer her.  He's never done that before; turned his back on her, refused to answer her.  But he’s less afraid of her anger right now than he is of what he will say once backed into a corner. 

“Don’t turn your back on me, I’m trying to talk to you.”

“Look Pam, I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have said anything, I was just having a bad day…it was just one day…” he trails off…not even able to finish the lie. 

She lets out a deep breath and he can somehow feel that she’s softened a bit, that her anger has dissipated, so he turns around to look at her.  Her eyes are shining, and he wonders if maybe she was crying before she came running after him. 

“I’m not…mad. I’m just confused.  I don’t..why didn’t you ever talk to me about this?  Why would you complain to Toby?  I would have stopped talking about it so much if I knew…”

Knew what?  Knew what?  In his head he is willing her to say it but she doesn’t, she just stands there, shaking her head and looking off in the distance. 

“It really wasn’t a big deal.  But you’re right. We’re friends and I should have told you.  But it wasn’t anything to tell, really.  It was a moment, a thought in my head and I needed to let it out and c’mon who wants to make the bride angry anyway?”

She smiles and lets out a soft laugh, waving her hand, allowing the tension in his shoulders to relax a little. Somehow she always manages to do that.  

“I just,” she hesitates for a moment, and he feels himself hanging on every moment of silence, waiting to see what she says next, “sometimes I can feel that you don’t like Roy.  Don’t….I don’t know approve?  Of him and it bothers me.  And maybe that’s not your problem I guess but well…if that’s what this is about, I wish that we could talk about it.”

There are so many things that he wants to talk to her about, but Roy is probably the last on the list.  The last thing he wants to think about is Roy Anderson. “That’s not what this is, Pam.  It wasn’t about him.”  And that part, well it’s mostly true.  The feelings Jim Halpert has for Pam Beasley, well they don’t include Roy.  Not at all. 

“I know, but.  Okay I’m just going to say it.  You’re going away, coincidentally, a few days before my wedding.  Of all the dates you could have picked…” She trails off, raising her eyebrows as if to challenge him, as if to say okay, well explain THAT. 

He sighs, looking down for a second and thinking, licking his lips before raising his head to look up at her.  He’s at a loss, torn between breaking down and telling her precisely why he plans to be on the exact opposite side of the world the moment she says “I do” or telling her that no, just a good deal – trip of a lifetime, and other lies that anyone who doesn’t know him well enough would probably buy.

The wind is taken from him in a moment as she looks up at him, a small crease in her eyebrow and he swears he sees her eyes flick to his lips before she looks him in the eye again.  It’s like she is daring him, maybe even pleading with him, to tell her the truth?  It occurs to him then that maybe she does want honesty - the real, actual honesty that he has squashed down for so long.  It is in that moment that he takes in their proximity and realizes how close she is standing to him, how both of their hands are hanging at their sides and if he just reaches out even the smallest fraction, he can grab her hand in his. 

He opens his mouth to speak, unsure of how his brain may betray him right here – of what is going to come pouring out of him, but he merely utters a quiet “Pam?” and he feels a small prick of humiliation when he hears his voice crack.  She doesn’t make a move, doesn’t respond, and they are suspended there for a second, staring at one another while the air hangs between them. 

It’s at that very moment, naturally, that Roy’s voice comes booming across the parking lot.   Hollering to Pam that they have to go, and to hurry and Jim doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t look away from her despite the approaching footsteps of her fiancée. 

Her reaction is delayed, and she finally shakes her head a little and looks at the ground, almost in annoyance, but he can’t tell if she is annoyed with him, with Roy, or the timing of it all.  She starts to back away and he ignores the urge to call her name, grab her hand, tell Roy that he’d drive her home, make up some ridiculous excuse to buy ten minutes with her.  But even then – would that be enough? 

Her voice brings him back to the unfortunate reality, “It’s just…never mind.  I’m sorry I shouldn’t have put you on the spot there.” 

The look on her face is sincerely apologetic and once again he is left watching after her, confused and hurt and angry with himself as another opportunity has passed him by.  He’s had so many, and he just doesn’t think he has much left in him anymore.  He doesn’t even know if he can survive the next few weeks leading to her wedding, and after that – then what?

****

It’s those same thoughts that drive him a few weeks later.  Standing at her desk in the dark, his belongings packed in a box, a piece of paper in front of him, and a pen in his hand.  He’s leaving, starting over and hoping to put Scranton, Pam, and “I can’t” behind him.

He writes her a note that simply says “I’m sorry”, and places it on her keyboard. He takes a final look around before walking out of the door to the elevator, and to a new life.