Life’s a Beach

Chapter 1

“No, hey, that’s all right. I’m sure it would have ended up being pretty lame anyway. Just go be with your family. My condolences, okay?” 

Pam couldn’t help overhearing Jim’s side of the conversation with Karen, and for once she was grateful he sat with his back to her, because she could get away with the eavesdropping. Apparently, Pam deduced, Karen wasn’t coming to beach day. Interesting.

She tried very hard to suppress the leaping of her heart at the news, and when Jim finally hung up after a rather subdued final moments, she was almost caught when he suddenly swiveled around to face her.  She’d just barely managed to focus on the computer in front of her when Jim spoke.

“Hey, Karen’s not coming today.  A death in her family back at Stamford.”

“Oh no,” she said sincerely, for as much as she wanted Karen out of the picture, she genuinely liked her and didn’t wish her or her family ill.  “Someone close?”

“A great-aunt. I guess they weren’t close, but her mom was. Karen’s going for emotional support.”

“Well, next time you hear from her, please offer my sympathies.”

“I will. Thanks.”

“You want me to let Michael and Toby know, or--?”

Jim shook his head. “I’ll tell them.” He sighed. “Poor Karen,” he said with a slight grin. “She’s really gonna miss out. Her first Scranton team building event and all.”

Pam returned his wry smile. “Would it be too insensitive to say I envy her right now?”

Jim chuckled. “Well, it could be worse for us. At least it’s not a booze cruise in January or glow-in-the-dark bowling at Idle Hour Lanes.”

“Or any of the Dundies,” she added.

“Yeah,” he said, and a river of memories flooded over them, for despite the lameness of those past events, they actually remembered each occasion fondly. They’d been best friends then, and that friendship had made those times bearable--enjoyable, even, with the exception of the emotionally painful (at least for Jim) booze cruise. They stared at each other for longer than they realized, saying with their eyes and their silence what neither of them dared say aloud.

Jim came out of the daze first, cleared his throat and turned back to his computer, his hands shaking as his fingers went automatically to the keyboard.

Two hours later, they were boarding the bus to Lake Scranton and the promise of a fun beach day. When Pam walked down the narrow aisle, Jim was already sitting in a seat by the window, an empty seat beside him.  Their eyes met and Jim shifted uncomfortably, tensing the closer she came. She looked away in embarrassment. A year ago, and there would have been no question—she would have taken that empty seat without a second thought. But now…as much as she longed to, she walked on past to sit with Andy, a row behind.

No one else sat by Jim either, as if he were still saving that seat for Karen. Pam tried to pay attention to Andy’s cheerful chatter, but she couldn’t help watching Jim’s reflection in the window beside him. He seemed down, not like someone who was getting out of work to go to the beach. He must really be missing Karen, she thought sadly.

They sang old eighties songs and TV theme songs on the short drive, and Pam and Jim both absently sang along, their hearts not in it. She doodled in the notebook Michael demanded she bring to record the day’s events and “funtivities.” Instead, she found herself sketching the back of Jim’s seat, the top of his black baseball cap just visible above it.

Pam’s spirits lifted when they arrived at the lake; beaches of any kind always made her happy. But without even giving them a chance to breathe in the fresh air or survey their surroundings, Michael immediately launched into the plans for day. They would be divided into teams, the captains doing a schoolyard pick to determine their teammates. Michael directed her to sit out and take notes, but to her surprise, Jim jumped to her rescue.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” he said softly. “Pam’s part of the office too.”

“Yeah,” said Kevin. “Since Karen’s gone, Pam is the next best thing.”

Pam blushed at the backhanded compliment.

“But she’s supposed to be taking notes,” Michael said, frustrated that his leadership was being questioned.

“Yeah, Michael. Let Pam play,” added Kelly, as if she were defending womankind.

Succumbing to peer pressure, Michael relented with a huff. “Okay, Pam, but I expect you to pay attention and remember everything that happened so you can write your report later.”

“Of course,” she agreed, catching Jim’s eye and giving him a small smile of gratitude.

But when no one picked her in the first round, Pam felt the painful déjà vu of high school gym class, and wished she could sink beneath the sand. Her eyes dropped to the ground in humiliation.

“Beesly!” Jim called, when it was his turn to pick again. She looked up in surprise. He’d picked Kevin his first turn, and she’d tried not to be disappointed. Now for the second time that day, he’d taken pity on her.  She smiled from ear to ear, nearly skipping to his side, her ponytail swishing as she moved. She was so happy to have been picked by him that she didn’t notice his quick grin and sparkling eyes. They disappeared before anyone else could see.

The first event was the egg race, and Michael passed out bandanas they would use as blindfolds. The team captains would call out directions as the blindfolded would race carrying eggs on spoons.

“C’mere, Kev,” said Jim, holding the folded-up bandana.

Kevin shook his head. “I get dizzy when I can’t see.”

“Uh, okay.” Almost reluctantly, Jim turned to Pam, one eyebrow raised in invitation.

“I don’t know if I trust you,” she teased, because knowing Jim as she used to, she wouldn’t have put it past him to steer her into the lake. She didn’t expect the flash of pain in his eyes which he quickly covered up with a grin.

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” he said, and she was sad to see he wasn’t teasing. She wouldn’t have minded at all if he wanted to prank her; she would actually have welcomed it.

She turned her back to him so he could tie on the blindfold. They hadn’t been this close together in months, and she felt incredibly nervous as he stood behind her. She tried to hide her shiver as his hands brushed the back of her bare neck, gently picking up her ponytail in order to tie the ends of the bandana beneath it.

“Is that too tight,” he asked quietly near her ear, the vibration of his incredible voice shooting an additional thrill through her body.

“No,” she said hoarsely. His warm hands rested lightly on her pink tank top-clad shoulders as he gently propelled her toward the starting line. He placed the spoon and egg in her right hand just as Michael yelled, “Ready, set, go!”

“Okay, Beesly, it’s just a straight walk forward. Don’t pay any attention to anyone else. Just listen to my voice.”

As if she could do otherwise, she thought wryly, stepping confidently through the sand. She could feel his calm, steady presence right behind her, his voice low as he gave directions to readjust her journey. It was as if they were the only two in the game, and she was able to focus completely on Jim, even with the shouting of others all around them.

 Despite her teasing, she did trust him. Jim would never steer her wrong, a least not figuratively, and she’d been dealing with regret that she’d let him down the year before. The emotional weight of her mistake and their subsequent estrangement made her legs feel heavy as she trudged back through the sand toward the finish line, his voice in her ear, her eyes filling with tears beneath the bandana.

They would have won if it hadn’t been for Ryan bumping into her out of nowhere due to Dwight’s terrible direction. Pam’s egg dropped unceremoniously out of her spoon and plopped in the sand.

“Sorry,” said Ryan, who had no idea who he’d run into. Then he proceeded to cuss out Dwight.

“Ah, man,” said Jim. “We were almost there.” Pam lifted her blindfold and saw they were within steps of being back at the bucket. He notices how upset she was and totally misunderstood.

“It was just a game, Beesly.” She used the bandana to wipe her eyes.

“I know.” No way could she explain to him that she’d wished he’d played with her a little bit, how a year ago he wouldn’t have taken her so literally, wouldn’t have shied away from taking advantage of her vulnerable state. She wondered if he would have had more fun with Karen.

No one won the first game in the end, and Michael’s frustration was palpable. He lectured them a good five minutes about the necessity of good team management. 

“Now, all of you, sit down in the sand and think seriously about how you could have done things better.  Except for you, Pam. I have a special project for you.”

Jim sat on a rock near the water, giving her a sympathetic glance as Michael ushered her toward the nearby table he’d set up.  She looked at the grocery bags filled with hot dogs and buns, and she was at first excited because she loved nothing better than roasting wienies at the beach.

“Wow,” she said. “That’s a lot of hot dogs.”

“800. Now get grilling.” He nodded toward the grill, which hadn’t even been filled with charcoal yet.  “You’ve got ten minutes.”

“What?” she exclaimed. But Michael had already left.

Obviously, that was impossible, and how the hell could they eat all of those hot dogs anyway? She knew talking him out of it would be futile, and probably more painful than cooking the damn things, so with a sigh, she resigned herself to doing his bidding.

She was struggling with lifting the gigantic bag of charcoal when she heard a familiar chuckle while two helping hands caught the bag and lifted it with her to pour into the bottom of the barbecue grill.  Jim smelled like cologne and clean sweat and she wished with everything in her being that she could turn into his arms and hold on.

“Thanks,” she said instead.

He set down the bag and held out his hand for the matches, lighting the easy light briquettes in several places. He glanced over at the paper grocery sacks.

“Hmmm, Michael’s special project, I take it.”

“Yep. Eight hundred hot dogs.”

His eyebrows rose beneath his hat brim.  “Wow.” Then a thought occurred to him. “It would be my educated guess that Michael is planning a hot dog eating contest.”

Pam grinned.  “That’s what I was thinking too.”

“And he wants you to cook all these?”

“Uh-huh. In ten minutes.”

“So, it’s also a hot dog cooking contest.”

She laughed. “I guess so.”

“You mind if I offer a suggestion, to make all of our lives easier?”

“Please.”

“How many hot dogs do you think you could eat in say, ten minutes?”

“Me personally? Maybe one a minute, I mean, if I was really hungry and didn’t have to eat the bun too.”

“Oh, you definitely have to eat the buns in these contests, either apart or together; it depends on the contestant’s personal preference.  So, I’ll guess five or six for you, with the buns.”

“Maybe…” But she seemed skeptical.

“And our best eater is probably Kevin, right?”

She grinned. “Definitely. He would probably get double that, at least. I wouldn’t count the other men out though.  What about you?”

“Oh, I brought my own lunch: tuna salad from the deli, so I won’t be participating in the contest.”

“Party pooper.”

“That’s me. So, back to the math of this. There are how many of us—fourteen?”

“Yeah. Well, twelve, if you’re not eating, and Angela’s a vegetarian, and we assume Michael is also participating…”

He seemed to do a little calculating in his head, even briefly employing his fingers. “I’m thinking you could get away with cooking about…eighty hot dogs.”

Her eyes widened. “How do you figure?”

“Don’t ask for how I came up with that number, just trust me…if you can.”

She blushed at the reminder of her earlier jab, but at least now his eyes glowed with amusement.

“But Michael said—”

“Do you really think he’s going to count all these? I mean eighty hot dogs will seem like quite a lot piled up and encased in buns.”

She nodded. He was probably right.

“And if the worst happens, you could claim you thought he said eighty, not the ridiculous number, eight-hundred.”

She started to mildly protest, but he held his hand up. “I will back you up if it comes to that, but you know Michael’s attention span. As long as people are eating, I guarantee you he won’t even remember what he said. And I think I still probably overestimated how many dogs people can eat. This way, we can put those extra packages of hot dogs in the freezer and give us an excuse to have a real barbecue someday.”

She looked at him, admiring for the millionth time his logic, his kindness, his thoughtfulness. She felt like such a burden had been lifted from her shoulders that she was in great danger of crying again.

“Plus, I will be happy to help,” he continued. “I don’t think you got to see the full extent of my grillmaster skills at my last barbecue.”

“No, I think you roped Kevin into doing most of that…”

“See, that’s what truly makes an effective team leader—the ability to delegate.”

“Amazing,” she said dryly.

“What can I say, Beesly…when you’re right, you’re right.”

And so, the minute the charcoal was ready, she and Jim began an assembly line. She opened eight packages of hot dogs and put them on paper plates while he used tongs to place as many as he could on the grill. When they were cooked through, complete with pleasing grill marks, she held out a plate for him, put each wiener in a bun, and put them in the aluminum pans Michael had provided. Just as they always had, they worked together seamlessly, anticipating each other’s actions without the need for words. There was a certain bittersweetness in that, a sad realization of all that they had lost.

Within half an hour, all eighty hot dogs were ready and waiting in the middle of the table, and Jim helped her set up the chairs around it before calling everyone to eat.

Michael looked pleased as his “family” gathered round, everyone hungry and salivating at the feast set before them.  (As Jim predicted, in his excitement, he took no time to count the hot dogs.) When Michael announced that it was, in fact, a hot dog eating contest, Jim met Pam’s eyes across the table and winked. She felt it in her stomach, setting the butterflies dancing so hard there she wondered if she’d be able to eat even one of Jim’s carefully grilled masterpieces.

Amidst the complaints and the whining at the news that they wouldn’t simply be eating lunch, Michael suddenly confessed that this whole day wasn’t just a fun outing—it was a way for him to choose his successor. Everyone stared at him in shock, and then the questions began. Pam and Jim looked at each other, wide-eyed at the thought that Michael would be choosing their new boss so haphazardly.

And then the hot dog eating contest began.

Since Pam had no real desire to be the regional manager, she ate two hot dogs at her own pace, while strangely, Jim still ate his tuna salad.

“Don’t you want to be the boss?” she asked him curiously.

He shrugged. “Not here,” he said evasively.  Her eyes narrowed at his suspiciously innocent expression, but she didn’t pry.  He seemed relieved at that, but she noticed he didn’t meet her eyes the rest of the meal.

When time was called, Andy was pronounced the winner, and the participants threw down their half-eaten hot dogs in a combination of relief and envy. Just as Jim predicted, there were still plenty of leftovers, and she found herself feeling grateful again that he’d saved her from all that extra work.

“Okay! Next on the docket is…sumo wrestling!”

“I knew it!” exclaimed Dwight.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Dwight,” said Michael in annoyance. “I have the suits ready to go, but the first battles will be between the team captains.”

“Michael,” said Oscar, “we’ve all just eaten a really big meal—you gotta give us a little time to digest or ramming into each other’s stomachs will have dire consequences.”

There was a smattering of moans at the thought of it.

“Yeah, at least an hour,” Jim concurred. He glanced at Pam, who hadn’t had a chance for any down time.  “Maybe two.” She smiled at him.

Michael made a few huffing noises in disgust, his single-mindedness once again getting in the way of consideration for others.

“Fine. You have one hour.” Then, under his breath: “Pussies.”

Everyone slowing rose to their feet with more sounds of discomfort, a few holding their full bellies. Pam got up too, jumping in to clear the table.

“Hey,” said Phyllis kindly, “did you get this all ready by yourself?  I mean, I know Michael said he did it, but I saw him hanging out with the boys near the water while the hot dogs were probably being grilled.”

Pam nodded. “Yeah, with Jim’s help.”

“I think the rest of the Party Planning Committee should clean up, don’t you, Angela?”

Angela looked longingly at Dwight, who was heading back toward the water, but, never one to shirk responsibility where the PPC was concerned, she nodded. “It probably wouldn’t get done correctly otherwise,” she said, brushing aside Pam’s cleaning skills. 

“Yeah,” said Kelly to Pam, “we totally got this. You go try out that new bikini of yours before we lose sunlight.”

Pam smiled, her face flushing a little at the mention of her bathing suit in front of Jim. “Thanks, guys. I think I will.”

Pam wondered if it was her imagination, the feeling that Jim’s eyes were following her as she grabbed her beach bag and headed for the water, but she enjoyed the thought of it anyway. It had felt so wonderful joking around with him today, falling into their same old banter patterns, that for awhile she’d actually forgotten about the miserable past few months, forgot there was still a Karen.

She found a relatively secluded spot close to the lake, a small area of the beach where large rocks might shield her from the gazes of the others. She spread out her towel on the sand, then took off her tank top, capri pants, and sneakers before, clad only in her brown polka dot bikini, she dug around in her bag for her medium SPF suntan lotion. She tended to freckle or burn if out in the sun too long, but she was usually able to get a warm glow if she was careful. She admitted to herself as she applied lotion to her cleavage that she’d worn this bathing suit so that a certain handsome salesman might notice her, but now that the occasion had finally arisen, her natural shyness had set in, and she found herself embarrassed that she’d even had the thought in the first place.

Properly lotioned up, she lay back on her towel, enjoying the warmth of the sun, the orange glow beneath her eyelids. She forced herself to push aside any confusing or wayward thoughts of Jim, and soon the softness of the breeze and the gentle lapping of the water soothed her into a light doze.  In this relaxed state, she was unaware of the quiet regard of the man of her dreams as he took a solitary stroll along the beach, coincidentally taking the same path she had minutes before…

Chapter 2

It had been a very confusing day, thought Jim, as he walked along the shore of Lake Scranton. His coworkers had settled in the sand to enjoy the sun, whether on towels or in lawn chairs, chatting amiably or attempting to nap. The camera crew was taking a break as well, helping themselves to the leftover hot dogs. The PPC had finished cleaning up the contest table, and everyone seemed to be enjoying the day now that there was a lull in Michael’s funtivities. Jim paused to look out over the lake, breathing in deeply the faintly fishy smell of the water, blending with the lingering scent of charcoal and hot dogs. He glanced down at his feet, toed a fresh water clam shell from out of the sand. He picked up the small white shell, studying it absently before bending again to rinse it in the lake.

The confusion he felt had begun the moment he’d sat on the bus and saw Pam walk down the narrow aisle toward him. It shouldn’t have hurt so much that she passed him by and sat with Andy, because of course, why would she do otherwise? He had a girlfriend now, and he and Pam were barely even friends anymore. Both their choices had sadly led to that empty seat beside him.  The hours upon hours of talking things out with Karen should have made him immune to any of the old hurt feelings where Pam was concerned, but he’d be lying if he said seeing her pass him by didn’t feel like she was rejecting him all over again.

But like a thorn bird, he’d tortured himself later with the pain, just for the brief pleasure of suggesting Pam play Michael’s silly games, of helping her grill hot dogs, talking with her, laughing, touching the soft, warm skin at her nape.

God.

He could talk a million years with Karen, and he still wouldn’t be able to get Pam out of his system; he’d known that even before he’d confessed he still had feelings for her five months ago. But he’d been determined to try, or to at least live with it like it was a chronic condition, like the back pain that had plagued his dad for most of his life.  He would have bad days, and sometimes he would cry out in the middle of the night as the pain spasmed through him. But other days, it would be bearable, and he could swing a golf club or drive eighteen hours to see his uncle in Florida.  Yeah, that’s what loving Pam was like: inoperable, a pain he would have for the rest of his life.

When Pam had walked away from the table earlier, he’d watched her head for the water’s edge, and he’d forced himself to look away, helping the ladies fold the chairs so he wouldn’t seem so pathetic. But who was he kidding? When he’d started his lonely walk along the shore, he’d gone in the same direction she had, so that when he climbed over a rocky outcrop in his way, he shouldn’t have been surprised to see Pam sunning herself on her towel on the other side.  She’d found the perfect spot—shielded from the rest of the group, but close to the lake, the sand smooth and white.

He gasped aloud when he saw her, but she didn’t stir, and he thanked the wind and water for covering the sound. And like the pathetic, lovesick idiot he was, he stared, for Pam in a bikini was a wonder to behold. She’s perfect, he thought, over the racing of his heart. She was toned but still utterly feminine, and he recalled her offhand mentions over the years of yoga and the occasional jog. He’d never seen her in so little, and the sight of her now would fuel many a fantasy in the days to come.

Her cheeks were flushed with the heat, her lips full and glossy. Her figure was sweetly hour glass, with perhaps a little more sand on top-- her breasts a revelation. He’d wondered about them, of course he had, but nothing he’d imagined came close to the reality of their firm roundness, the glistening valley of her cleavage. She’d even taken the halter straps from around her neck (he knew from his sister the necessity of avoiding tan lines) and they hung tantalizingly at her sides. The temptation to kneel beside her and touch, to weigh their fullness in his hands, was almost overwhelming, and he fisted his hands to stop himself, the clamshell he still held digging into his palm. His eyes drifted lower to her flat stomach, to the gentle curves where her bikini bottom tied enticingly on each hip.  Her legs looked strong and smooth and he could easily imagine how they’d feel wrapped around his waist.

A sharp stab of desire tightened his stomach, tightened his jeans, and feeling suddenly, ashamedly like a peeping Tom, he turned away from her, sat on a large, flat-topped rock, and looked blindly out at the lake while his body calmed. In his current condition, he couldn’t exactly walk back toward his coworkers. He was literally between a rock and a hard place, he thought, with a wry twist of his lips.

He considered pulling off his clothes and plunging into the blessedly cold water in his underwear, but that, he mused, would probably make things look even worse for him.  He hadn’t bothered with a swimsuit, never guessing that an icy dip would feel really good about now.

“Jim?”

His heart jolted at Pam’s voice, and he pulled his polo shirt lower over the front of his pants.

Busted, he thought, his chin dropping to his chest, his hat momentarily shielding his mortification.

“Oh, Pam. I uh—” His mind worked frantically, and he toyed with the notion of pretending he hadn’t seen her. Behind him, he heard the rustle of a towel and clothing as she sat up and was likely tying her bikini top again. He glanced quickly over at her. Sure enough, she had fixed her top, but he was disappointed that she’d thrown on her pink tank top over it again. That really was a shame.

“I was just taking a walk, and I uh, sat here so I wouldn’t disturb you as I walked past,” he said lamely. “This rock’s a really comfortable place to sit.” Just stop talking, idiot, he told himself angrily, and he could feel that his cheeks were flaming red.

She stood then, and he felt her move beside him, taking a place on the rock. He shuffled over to give her more room, and the heady scent of coconut suntan lotion assailed him. He stole a quick look to his right, and was met with the sight of her beautiful bare legs. He swallowed and looked hastily back up at the water.

“I didn’t mean to bother you,” he said, clearing his throat, hating that he still felt the need to explain himself. It was probably just the guilt, he realized. Yep, all kinds of guilt.

“Oh, no. I was just enjoying the sun. I should only lay in it for a little while at a time, especially at the first of the season, or I’ll burn to a crisp.  If you hadn’t come along I was in danger of falling asleep. It just felt so good to relax.”

“You’re welcome?” he ventured.

She chuckled. “Yes, that was a thank you.”

They were quiet a moment, Jim still feeling terribly awkward, hating himself for spying on her, for loving her.

“Looks like people fish from here,” she said, nodding toward an abandoned old red and white bobber and fishing line tangled on the rocks below them, near a few v-shaped branches left in the ground where people would rest their fishing poles.

“Yeah. My dad and brothers and I used to come out here sometimes and drown a few worms. Pulled some pretty big bass out of here.”

“Nice,” she said. “I used to like to fish. Mainly did it from our little fishing boat though.” She laughed, remembering. “My dad would take my sister and I out, and he’d get so frustrated with her. Penny is definitely an indoor girl. She would talk constantly and complain about everything, and Dad always said she was scaring the fish away. We rarely caught anything with her along, but he didn’t have any boys, so he sure did his level best to make us into tomboys. It didn’t stick, at least not with her.”

Jim smiled at her description. “Larissa hated fishing too. Mainly because she hated putting the poor worms on hooks, or more likely it was getting them put down her shirt by one of my brothers.  She didn’t go on many fishing trips with us after that.”

Pam laughed. “Just your brothers did that, I’m sure,” she said, elbowing him knowingly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said dryly, adjusting his hat. “Although one time there was this frog…”

“Uh-huh; that’s what I thought.” Her voice became nostalgic. “I loved being out on the water, alone with my dad. Neither of us were big talkers. It was peaceful. And occasionally, we actually caught something.  We’d go maybe once a month when it was warm, up until I was bout sixteen.”

He smiled at the thought of little tomboy Pam, her hair in pigtails, casting her line into the lake. “Then what happened?”

She chuckled. “Well, if you ask my dad, he’ll tell you I stopped fishing when I discovered that boys smell better than fish.”

He laughed too. “Teenage boys? Not much better, in my experience.” 

Then he remembered that Roy and Pam started dating in high school, and his smile faded.  He wondered if she and Roy ever fished together, but he didn’t want to go down that road, so he resisted asking, and he noticed she didn’t mention it.  Hell, Roy and his brother were probably too busy drinking and riding their Jet-skis whenever they went to the lake.

“I should do that,” she said suddenly.

“What?”

“Next time I’m at my parents’, see if he still has that boat. It’s probably out in his storage shed.”

“You’d go out on the water by yourself?” he asked, absently rubbing his shell with his thumb.

“Sure, why not?”

He grinned. “You think your little Yaris could pull a fishing boat?”

“I bet it could. It’s just a little two-man fiberglass thing.  I’d need a trailer hitch though. And uh, a trailer.” 

“I’d love to see that,” he said without thinking. She shot him a look of warm surprise, but she didn’t take the bait, so to speak, and offer him an invitation.

He didn’t even try to talk her out of her dream, and it was so fun to him, thinking of her doing something like that for herself, trying to regain a time where she’d found so much enjoyment.  He admired that kind of passion—something he wished he had for well, anything.  Anything besides her.

“You think your dad would go fishing with you again?”

Her expression became wistful. “His arthritis bothers him so much, I doubt he would even try. And he’s sort of gotten that middle-age spread, so…I guess we’d—"

“Need a bigger boat,” they said in unison.  Her delighted laughter thrilled through his body, as did the sudden, intense longing to be the one beside her in that boat. He had no doubt they would have an incredible time together, if they could go back to being friends again. But he’d told himself and her that it wasn’t enough for him anymore. He wondered now if cutting her out of his life was more painful than if he had continued just to be her friend. 

He’d fucked up, he realized suddenly. If he couldn’t have her love, at least he could have been close to her all this time, talking to her like this. Those nights he’d cried and drowned himself in a bottle, he wasn’t crying just because she didn’t love him; he was also crying because he’d lost his best friend. But this, sitting here talking to her—he could handle this pain. It was infinitely better than forcing himself to feel numb, or to lie to himself. Or Karen.

Sure, it was tough, knowing that Pam would never be his, but he was tired of talking himself into a relationship he really wasn’t feeling just to avoid the hurt. It wasn’t fair to Karen, using her like that.  Having tried and failed to truly move on, maybe it was just time to accept that he would never have what he really wanted (who did, after all?), and happily take the friendship she still seemed to be offering him when she’d asked him out for coffee his first day back, or when she’d played that prank on Andy with him, or when she climbed on this rock today just to talk, like old times.

“Hey, Pam, I—”

“Okay, everybody—break time is over! More fun awaits! Team captains, come on over and suit up.”

Leave it to Michael’s excellent timing to interfere with his major epiphany.

Pam sighed, gave him a sad smile. “Guess we should go back before he sends Dwight or something.”

Jim cringed. “Yeah.”

She hopped down from the rock and Jim couldn’t stop his eyes from landing on her amazing ass, gently cupped by her polka dot bikini bottoms. Even worse, she unconsciously brushed off her behind with her hands, and it wasn’t a big step to imagine his own hands there. He turned quickly away when she bent and picked up her capris, swallowing hard, his mouth dry.

When she was packed up and completely dressed, she went around the rock again, standing just below him on the sand, her hands shielding her eyes as she looked up at him.

“You coming?”

“I’ll be along in a minute,” he said.

She looked disappointed, as if she’d expected him to walk back with her; he’d waited, after all. Was she as sorry as he was that their time alone was over?

“Okay. Can’t wait to see you in your sumo suit.”

His grin was strained. “Yeah. I’m so looking forward to it.”

She laughed lightly and walked away, a little skip in her step. He didn’t hide this time that he was watching her, and she must have felt it, for halfway back to the group, she turned to look back at him. This time he didn’t hold back, he experimented with a smile reminiscent of the old days—genuine, filled with a mixture of love and friendship, topped with rueful humor, a hint of secrets shared.

Her answering smile, the brightest he’d seen from her since that day they pranked Andy together, totally blocked out the pain.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

As Pam helped Jim into his sumo suit, she couldn’t seem to stop laughing. The huge fat suit Velcroed closed on the back, and then the portable air compressor blew up the suit to epic proportions. She stood on tiptoe in front of him, securing the top knot inflated helmet to his head. His eyes were alight with humor too, not so much at the suit, but at the fact that Pam was helping him, that she was so close to his body, that they weren’t awkward at all with each other as they shared in the joke.

“Oh my God, you’re enormous,” Pam was saying as she adjusted his red plastic loin cloth (mawashi) over his suit. That’s what she said, were the unspoken words as her eyes met his in renewed hilarity.

There was a lot of padding between her hands and his actual lower half, but watching her down on her knees in front of him did funny things to that particular area.  She gave his fake belly an affectionate pat. “There. Now you’re decent.” She stepped back to survey her handiwork. “You have really gotta cut down on the pizza, Halpert.”

He waddled around in a circle to give her the full effect, just to hear her laugh again at his silly costume. He struck a stereotypical sumo pose, opening his long legs as wide as he could under the circumstances and bending his knees, as if preparing to do battle.  He gave a convincing grunt.

“Perfect,” she said. “Stanley won’t know what hit ‘em.”

As it happened, Stanley hit Jim, and he was disappointedly knocked out of that round, the victim of a scary-intense running attack that left Jim face down in the sand. Dwight easily took out Andy, and then went on to ultimately win against Stanley too. Michael held up Dwight’s inflated arm in victory as everyone cheered.

“Hey,” said Pam loudly to Michael, after the applause died down. “I think the women should have a turn.”

There was a mixed reaction to that, and the idea wasn’t well-received from any of the women but Phyllis and Pam. Angela complained it was too violent and unladylike. Kelly didn’t want to get hot and sweaty and ruin her hair and manicure. Meredith was too drunk to express an opinion, dozing in her lawn chair, the telltale Styrofoam cup in her hand.

“I think it would be fun,” Phyllis said.  “But you’re so little, Pam, I’m afraid you’ll be extremely outmatched.”  Phyllis was helping Stanley out of his suit, and Dwight had pulled his off on his own the moment he’d won, so Michael could pour a bottle of Gatorade over his head.  Andy was nowhere to be found, but Kelly mentioned she’d seen him waddling toward the water.  Jim stood by, listening in amusement, still in his suit, his cheeks sandy from his earlier defeat.

“Oh, I think the suits equalize us a bit, don’t you?” said Pam dryly. “Besides, I just want to have the experience.  The boys shouldn’t have all the fun.”

“All right then, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I did a little wrestling when I was in high school.  Can somebody please help me get into this thing?”

“I challenge the winner,” said Jim gamely, as Kelly went to help Phyllis get suited up. 

“Oh, I’ll take that challenge, sweet cheeks,” said Phyllis with a sly wink. Jim flushed and ambled over to help Pam .

Her suit was still mostly inflated from Dwight’s use, but it was difficult for Jim to maneuver around her while in his own. Bending at the knees was particularly difficult.

“According to Shinto tradition, women are not allowed to be part of the sacred world of Sumo,” said Dwight in disgust, wiping blue liquid from his face and hair with Angela’s towel. “You aren’t even supposed to touch the dohyo ring because your menstrual cycles cause you to be impure.”

“That’s gross, Dwight,” said Kelly.

“Gross but very true. Besides, they’ll both end up hurt and crying like little girls after the first hit.”

“Well that’s sexist,” said Jim.

“Oh shut up, Dwight, and let them have their fun,” intervened Michael. “Besides, I think it might be hot.” He waggled his eyebrows ala Groucho Marx at Pam.

The women shook their heads at the misogyny of both men.

Finally in their suits, Jim gave Pam an encouraging squeeze of her padded shoulders. “Give her hell, Beesly,” he whispered near her plastic covered ear. She was adorably excited and raring to go, looking so cute in her oversized costume that he had to resist the urge to kiss her smiling mouth.

Stop it, he told himself. These were very dangerous thoughts. He tried in vain to conjure Karen’s face, but the spectacle before him washed her once again from his mind.

Michael started the match with a loud “Go!”  and Pam and Phyllis lumbered toward each other and immediately began to grapple. What Pam lacked in size, she made up for in nimbleness, and to everyone’s surprise, managed to kick Phyllis’s legs out from under her and bounce into her stomach at the same time. Phyllis fell to the mat while Creed yelled “Timber!” and Pam joyously slammed into her defeated opponent with the roar of a tigress amidst enthusiastic cheers—especially from the women.  Kevin, Oscar, and Ryan grudgingly put cash into Creed’s waiting palm.

Jim laughed until his eyes watered, clutching his big belly until he almost fell over himself.

“That was cheating,” claimed Phyllis, as Angela and Kelly helped her back to her feet.

“Nope, nope,” Michael said, shaking his head. “Tripping is allowed.”

“That’s right,” added Dwight, gallantly helping Pam up again. “She beat you fair and square, Phyllis. Congratulations, Pamela. That was a fine match. I will enjoy watching you soundly kick Jim’s ass in your next go round.”

“I thought you said girls shouldn’t do Sumo,” said Pam.

“Well, I guess it doesn’t do any harm as long as girls are playing girls.” He looked pointedly at Jim with a wicked grin of amusement at his own joke. Jim rolled his eyes.

The two new combatants made their way to the mat again, giving each other a formal bow before Michael started the fight.

“Don’t go easy on me, Halpert,” Pam warned as they circled each other in a crouching position, bulging stomachs bobbing comically.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said with a grin. They hadn’t even started and he was already having the time of his life.

Chapter 3

I only have to get him to step out of the circle, Pam thought, as she and Jim continued their dance upon the mat. The others were starting to get impatient, calling for them to stop messing around, but Jim and Pam were still sizing each other up, neither of them touching, staring each other down with amused and challenging glints in their eyes.

Pam knew she had little chance of pushing him over. He was nearly a foot taller than her, plus, while he might be tall and lanky, he was strong (she remembered how he’d picked her up once in a long-ago dojo, how his firm hands had held her waist that night he’d kissed her). To test her theory, she suddenly opened her arms wide and latched onto him in a desperate hug, wrapping herself around him just above his giant stomach, awkward with her own large girth. She squeezed hard, and he laughed looking down at her.  She felt ridiculously like Westley attacking Fezzik in The Princess Bride, even though in many ways their costumes made her and Jim the same size around the middle. Jim had not even moved.

She stepped back, abandoning that line of offense, much to the laughter of their audience.

“Get that out of your system?” asked Jim politely, his face stretching into a wide grin.

“Okay, Halpert. No more games. Let’s do this.”

They advanced on each other at the same time, hands clasping as they pushed at each other. They both seemed strongly affected by the contact, and tried to ignore the softness of her small fingers laced with his long, graceful ones. Jim began easily pushing her backwards toward the outer edge of the circle, and apparently he had the same strategy. He probably didn’t want to risk hurting her or making himself look bad by clobbering a girl. But Pam dug in with all her might, managing to push him back a few steps in the other direction.

With a sudden bump of her belly to his, he was forced back several more steps, almost to the edge of the mat, but he stopped, grinning at her in appreciation of her surprise move.

“Nice, Beesly.”

Something came over her then, and somehow she knew instinctively what his weakness was. Her eyes softened as she looked up into his, their hands still entwined, and she moved her thumb so that it caressed his palm. She felt the jolt of his reaction, knew he felt it in the sensual way she’d intended. His attention was briefly on their hands, and then, when he raised his confused eyes back to her face, she licked her lips, her gaze lowering to his mouth. At the same time, she gave another quick swipe of her thumb to his slightly damp palm.  It was in that moment she made another hard lunge against his stomach, and he stumbled backward in surprise, tripped over the edge of the mat, and fell promptly on his ass, then onto his back like an overturned turtle.

Unfortunately, their hands had still been firmly entwined when he fell, and the momentum had her following him over, landing hard onto her padded belly.

The yells and catcalls from the crowd were deafening, and she distantly heard Michael proclaim Pam the winner, though somehow it no longer mattered.  She and Jim stayed where they were a moment, breathing heavily, but not really from their physical exertions. Pam could hear the pounding of her heart in her ears. She was shaking inside at her own audacity, at her own blatant use of her rarely tried sexual power. The old Pam would never have had the courage to use her feminine wiles like that. She felt both ashamed and empowered.

Dwight and Michael helped them to their feet, Michael holding up her arm victoriously. But despite the fake smile she plastered onto her face, or the applause and cries of “Girl Power!” from Kelly, all she really wanted to do was gage Jim’s reaction, to see if he was feeling what she’d been feeling, or if he was mad at her that she’d realized his weakness for her and used it against him. But he wouldn’t meet her eyes, and he was struggling, even with Michael’s help, to rid himself of the cumbersome sumo suit as quickly as possible. 

Kelly came to her rescue, helping Pam with her own suit, going on and on about how badass she was, taking out both Phyllis and Jim. Pam smiled and nodded and thanked her at the appropriate times, but her attention remained focused on Jim. Once he was free, he walked quickly away from the others, back toward the lake, and without seeing his face she knew he was upset, and it wasn’t because he’d lost to a girl at sumo wrestling.

Pam was finally stepping out of her suit when Michael announced that they’d be walking on fire, the pile of wood he’d had delivered bursting dramatically into flames right on cue…as if he’d planned it (which, of course, he likely had).

She wanted to go to Jim and explain, to apologize, to see for sure if he was angry with her.  Instead, the courage she’d had moments before had left her with a wave of insecurity, and she hung out awhile with Kelly and Phyllis, her mind not on the gossip and small talk. Kevin had brought marshmallows, and a few of them grabbed sticks and roasted marshmallows over the open flames. Jim stayed away, and she saw him on the phone a couple times from a distance, and she realized with a sinking heart when she heard him laughing to whom he was probably speaking. She gave him his privacy.

Xxxxxxxxxx

As darkness encroached, Michael got the men to help him rake the coals of the burned down wood into a path suitable for the brave to walk on. It glowed red and orange in the night, and looked very intimidating. Pam couldn’t believe Michael expected them to walk across this. Had he finally gone round the bend?

When they’d all gathered around the coals and Michael told them this was a test of courage, Pam had an overwhelming desire to test herself. She didn’t want to be a regional manager, but she felt that attempting this would lead to some sort of new chapter in her life. The fact that Jim was there to witness her doing this was also what was compelling her to try. He’d already been partly responsible for her getting out of a bad relationship, for seeing that she could be on her own, that she could start taking other chances with her life, like art classes, changing up her wardrobe—he wanted him to see her for who she was now, not that frightened girl who’d lied to herself and to him about her true feelings.

When Michael refused her, told her that walking across the coals would be pointless, she stood aside in disappointment and embarrassment. In the end, only Dwight was actually brave enough to try as she watched enviously from the sidelines, although he almost killed himself with his idiocy. Disgusted with his entire team, Michael led them all away from the reminder of his wasted money and time—all but Pam, who stood staring at the coals alone, fascinated by the power that the fire represented.

Like Jeff Probst often said on Survivor, (as Michael had been quick to remind them) fire represented life. Pam realized that Michael’s denying her this chance represented all the times Roy had mocked her dreams, all the times she’d done what everyone expected of her, all the times she’d been afraid to follow her heart, standing in her own way.  

She didn’t notice that Jim too had broken away from the group and was wandering back to the coal walk, that he stood at the end of the glowing path just out of reach of the firelight, watching in awe at the determination with which she removed her sneakers and socks and stood as if at a precipice, preparing to jump.

In that moment, all Pam’s disappointments, frustrations and dreams had compressed into a pressurized ball of emotion at her core, waiting to explode like her own personal Big Bang. Her breathing was heavy in her ears, her heart pounding in anticipation.

And then, with a glance at the camera, she ran.

She made it through; her feet were burning, but not as hot as the fire in her heart. She let out a breath of relief, feeling her body fill up with happiness, with freedom, with pride.  In the light of the fire, she saw Jim.

“Oh my God…” he said.  “Beesly.” His smile was wide and she could have sworn his eyes glimmered with unshed tears.

Before she could reply, he’d strode purposefully over to her and picked her up in his arms, holding her as easily as a doll, one arm beneath her legs, the other at her back. She closed her eyes in shock at his sudden nearness, then found herself relaxing against his chest as he carried her in his strong arms.  She had no idea where he was heading, but they were moving farther away from voices and light.  In that moment she didn’t care where they were going, as long as he held her like this.

Jim’s pace slowed suddenly, and she felt him take a tentative step down. She heard the small splashes as he waded into the water, shoes and all, and then he set her down. Instantly, the cold water soothed her burning feet, and she held onto his arms for balance.

“Awww,” she said, looking up to him in gratitude, “thank you.”

He was shaking his head at her, she saw the flash of white teeth, and when he spoke, his voice was gentle, admiring. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“I know,” she said, returning his smile. “I can’t believe it either.”

He didn’t ask why she’d done it, and she saw that somehow, he already knew. It might have been that, it might have been the residual adrenalin from the coal walk, but the words she’d longed to say to him for months began spilling from her lips.  She let go of his arms to stand on her own.

“Jim, I called off my wedding because of you. And now we’re not even friends. And things are like, so weird between us. And it sucks. And I miss you. You were my best friend before you went to Stamford and I really miss you. I shouldn’t have been with Roy, and there were a lot of reasons to call off my wedding, but the truth is I didn’t care about any of those reasons until I met you. And now you’re with someone else, and that’s fine…but I miss having fun with you, like we did today…”

She stared up at him, trying to make out his expression in the dimness.

“I…” he began, then cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“Because I was scared, and I thought you hated me.  And you’re with Karen now…”

His hand came up to touch her cheek, to brush aside her hair, before self-consciously letting his hand fall back to his side.

“I could never hate you.” He took a deep breath, let it out in a long sigh.  “The real reason I went to Stamford was because I wanted to be…not here.”

“I know,” she said softly.

“And even though I came back…I just feel like I’ve never really…come back.”

“Well, I wish you would,” she said meaningfully.  He nodded, looked away. But she could sense that he was gathering up his own courage, and she held her breath, waiting, hoping…

“And for the record, it does suck,” he said, facing her again.  He gestured helplessly around them. “Everything sucks. I’ve been thinking about this all day, and I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you this…I—I miss you too.  I was pissed off and hurt when I went to Stamford. But running away was a mistake. I know now, no matter how far I run, I won’t stop thinking about you, missing you.  I shouldn’t have been so damn proud, such a fuckin’ idiot to just throw everything away because you didn’t want the same thing I wanted.  Since I’ve come back, I’ve put up a wall between us because I didn’t want to be put there again, in the friend zone. But I’ve changed my mind. Your friendship matters to me more than anything.  Let’s try to forget the past, okay? At least the past year, anyway. I know things can’t be exactly the way they were, but I’d like us to at least try to be friends again.”

His words hung in the air between them, and she was happy to hear him say them, but she was also incredibly sad.

“I thought you wanted more than that,” she whispered. “But I guess that’s changed now, with Karen…”

She felt rather than saw him go still. “What—what are you trying to say, Pam?”

She looked down, found the courage to take both his hands in hers for the second time that day. She squeezed them, looked up into his face, gave him a crooked little smile, an ironic chuckle.

“Well, funny thing, Jim…turns out I don’t want to be just your friend now. I mean, if that’s all you can offer, if I’m too late, I’ll take it, but if the option’s still open, I--”

Neither of them had expected him to kiss her, but suddenly he was, his mouth claiming hers as if he’d never left, as if their last kiss from anyone had been on Casino Night almost exactly a year ago.  The year fell away and they picked up where they’d left off, reaching deeper this time with their tongues to explore, fusing their mouths together in a kiss of welcome, of apology, of joy. He bumped her nose with the brim of his hat and he pulled it off with a shaky laugh. She heard it plop into the water, but he didn’t seem to care.  One hand held her lightly by the ponytail, the other at her waist, drawing her closer, while she found his hair again with her fingers, marveling with an ache how soft it still was, just like she’d remembered.

He pulled away and held her as they stood in the icy water, his mouth on her forehead, then in her hair before he rested his chin on top of her head, his arms around her slim shoulders. They were both breathing harshly, and her heart beat a rapid tattoo against her breast. They stood there for several minutes before he reluctantly pulled away.

“I guess I finally understand now what you went through last May,” he said.  “I can’t—we can’t.” He laughed without humor, ran his hand through his hair. “This isn’t fair to Karen, just as I imagine you thought back then, it wasn’t fair to Roy.  God, I was a selfish asshole.”

She chuckled. “No, you weren’t. I had been giving you missed messages for years. You were right to think I had feelings for you. I did. I do. I wish you had given me more time, though, before you left.  That kiss that night…it gave me a lot to think about, propelled me into making some major life changes.  I should have called you to explain, but I was too hurt, too afraid that it was too late.”

He gently kissed her lips, then pulled her again into his arms.

“God, Pam. We’ve both wasted so much time.  I don’t want to make any more mistakes though. I want to do this the right way this time. That means I—I have to talk to Karen.”

She rubbed her cheek against his soft sweatshirt. “I know. Do what you need to do. I can wait.  This is worth waiting for.” Then she smiled wryly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Nice, Beesly,” he said sheepishly.

They swayed gently to the rhythm of the water lapping against the shore, to the unnamed music playing in their heads.

“How are your feet?” he asked finally.

“Medium rare,” she said, and they both laughed. 

Suddenly, a voice came to them from an uncertain direction. It seemed to bounce off the water, and it was difficult to determine whether it was coming from out on the lake or on the nearby shore.

“Hey! Guys!  Sorry to interrupt…but could you give me a hand please?”

The camera crew, which Pam and Jim had completely forgotten about, pointed a bright light toward the water.

“Andy?” called Pam.  “Is that you?”

Chapter 4

With the help of the camera crew’s light and Dwight, who stripped off most of his clothes before heroically diving into the lake, Andy was rescued from where he, in his sumo suit, was tangled on his back in the reeds.

“Now,” Dwight was heard saying later, as he and Andy (now suit-free), both wrapped in borrowed towels, sat near the coal walk for warmth, “you owe me a life debt. Be vigilant, because you never know when my life will suddenly hang in the balance.”

“How about I buy you dinner instead,” suggested Andy.

Dwight thought a minute, apparently weighing the two options.

“At a restaurant of my choosing?”

“Of course.”

“Then I accept,” said Dwight.

“Your life is only worth the price of one dinner?” Jim asked, having overheard the entire conversation. He and Kevin had been delegated the task of extinguishing the tiki torches and kicking sand over the fire in preparation for their leaving. The other men grinned at Jim’s taunting of Dwight; these things were always entertaining. “Because if that’s the case, Andy, I’ll be happy to assume that debt for you.”

Andy’s smile showed his large white teeth. “Sure, Tuna. You’re welcome to it.”

“Hey, I don’t want you owing me anything, loser,” Dwight protested, glaring at Jim, “And besides, a life debt is non-transferable. When Chewbacca owed Han Solo a life debt for rescuing him from slavery, Han didn’t go off willy-nilly and give it to Luke Skywalker or someone. Han respected what it meant, because he had honor—something you know nothing about, apparently.”

“So wait—am I Luke Skywalker in this scenario, because, awesome.”

“Oh, cool, because that would mean I’m Han Solo,” said Andy.

Dwight had to think back on the path his speech had taken, and he frowned.

“Uh, no. Wait—"

“And that makes Dwight, Chewbacca,” Jim added, ignoring Dwight.

“Right,” inserted Kevin. “Because he’s big and hairy and you can’t understand anything he’s saying.” He grinned widely at his own joke.

Dwight got to his feet, shucking off his towel in disgust and putting on his clothes again.  “You guys are all idiots. This would make Andy, Chewbacca, and me, Han Solo—”

“And me, Luke Skywalker,” finished Jim with a satisfied grin.

“Actually, that would be an incorrect comparison,” said Dwight, “because Luke also owed Han his life, for saving him in the first Death Star battle, and then again on Hoth.  God, watch the whole trilogy sometime.”

At that, Jim made the sound of a lightsaber igniting, and turned to Andy, a challenge in his eye, holding his pretend weapon.

“I am your father,” said Jim, in his best deep-voiced imitation of Darth Vader.

Andy got up at once, standing in his bathing trunks, excited for any kind of dramatic role play, and mimed his own lightsaber. He advanced on Jim.  “I’ll never join you!”

“Wait,” said Dwight, truly dismayed. “Luke isn’t Chewbacca’s father, and Chewbacca doesn’t even use a lightsaber--”

Just as Dwight was about to jump in with his own fake lightsaber, Michael passed by.  “You nerds quit messing around and load those chairs.”

At the beck and call of his Emperor, Dwight re-holstered his lightsaber and ran off to do his bidding.

“Surf and turf at Cooper’s tomorrow night,” he said to Andy in passing.

“Fair enough,” his life debtor replied.

Andy turned to resume his duel, but Jim held up a staying hand before putting the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head and fading mysteriously into the darkness.

He smiled to himself. His Jedi mind tricks had worked once again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was getting late, and everyone was packing up, preparing to leave. Michael was agitated, still undecided about who he would pick for his replacement. He’d been leaning toward Jim, but when his second-best salesman had stated his intention of going for the same job at Corporate, he looked at his remaining choices with disgust.

“Pam,” he said, as he walked alongside her and Jim, each carrying a bag of packaged hot dogs or buns to the bus while Michael carried a tiki torch for light. “I’ll need those transcribed notes by Monday morning. Don’t bother with any notes you took concerning Jim, since he’s decided to run with the big dogs at Corporate.” There was a definite note of bitterness in their boss’s voice.

“What?” Pam asked, looking up at Jim in surprise.

Jim cringed; kissing Pam had sort of blocked that whole New York job interview from his mind. David Wallace had called him before they’d left the office that morning, had told him about the interview the following week. After he’d been so frustrated with Pam earlier, Jim had called Wallace and accepted the interview opportunity. He’d spoken to Karen afterwards, and she’d mentioned she’d been invited too. Later, at the coal walk, he’d told everyone his intentions, that he no longer needed to compete for Michael’s job at Scranton since he was competing for a new job in New York.

Jim put out a hand to touch Pam’s arm, trying to slow their pace from Michael’s. They both stopped completely and she turned to him on the path up to the road.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I was going to tell you, but—”

“You were going to do it again? Get away from here, from me?”

“That was before, Pam. I’m calling Wallace on Monday to cancel, I swear.”

“Are you sure? Because if you don’t think you can handle this, you should get out now, while you still can.”

She was understandably hurt, and it was coming out as anger.

“You know, a few hours ago, I had no idea you wanted to be with me. And I was beginning to rethink the New York thing anyway, when I realized that your friendship was more important. It was Karen whose been talking about getting out of Scranton, ever since I told her I still had feelings for you.”

She stared at him, and he could see in the fading light from Michael’s torch that her eyes were filling with tears.  “I can’t believe you were going to leave again. God. Were you even going to say good-bye this time?”

“Pam—it wouldn’t have been like before.”

“No, it would have been worse, because now I’m free, and I’d get to see you ride off into the sunset with someone else. I assume Karen would be going with you. I’ve heard her talk about how she went to college in New York, how much she misses it there…”

“Please, don’t be mad, okay? I’ve needed this time with you today to admit to myself that I don’t really like the city, and I don’t want to be with Karen anymore.” He lowered his voice as a few of their coworker stragglers came closer, carrying the last of the folding chairs.  They stepped off the path to let them go by.

She said nothing, bowing her head into the sack of hot dot buns.

“Please, Pam. What I said earlier, in the lake—I meant every word. I want to be here, with you, any way you’ll have me. I was miserable in Stamford, and I’d be miserable in New York. I’d rather stay here and be miserable with you,” he said, with a self-deprecating grin. “I—I’m still in love with you.”

She looked up. “Really?”

“Well, yeah.”

“I love you too,” she said shyly. “I’ve always loved you.” His heart was pounding crazily as he looked at her. And then they embraced, neither of them caring that his hot dogs were smashing into her buns.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The bus ride back to Scranton was a lot different than the one to the lake. For one, Pam sat next to Jim. The entire group was tired and quiet—no singing tonight. When they were settled in their seats and the bus pulled back onto the main road, Jim pressed the shell he’d been keeping in his pocket into her hand.

“To remember the day,” he said softly.

She smiled. “Thank you.” Beneath the cover of darkness, she held his hand.  As much as they longed to, they didn’t do anything more that others might see. The prospect of speaking to Karen when she got back late Sunday was weighing heavily on him, and he tried not to think about it. Instead, he would savor the memories of this day, the feel of Pam’s lips beneath his, the touch of her hand. Their laughter, their words. The long overdue honesty between them.

With a sly grin, he passed his thumb over her palm.  Just as he had done during their sumo match, she tensed.

“I haven’t forgotten that little bit of trickery, by the way,” he told her.

He couldn’t tell in the dimness of the bus’s interior lights, but he was pretty sure she was blushing.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she hedged demurely.

He chuckled. “Oh, you know damn well what you did. That was pretty low, Beesly.”

She shrugged. “The odds were against me in a true fight; you can’t blame a girl for using all her resources.”

He risked the gossip and leaned a little closer, whispering throatily: “I felt that thumb of yours all the way to my toes—and everywhere in between. Way to take a man’s mind off his game.”  He massaged his thumb into her palm a few more times for emphasis, and he was gratified to feel the quickening of her pulse as he brushed her wrist. She squeezed his hand to make him stop, which evolved into an impromptu thumb war—which he won very decisively.  He kept her hand safely enfolded in his the rest of the drive back to the office.

In the parking lot of Dunder Mifflin, he walked her to her car. He longed to kiss her again, but people were taking their time getting out of there, sluggish from the mental and physical exhaustion of the day.

“Go on home,” he told her. “I’ll stay and help the guys unload the bus.”

“Okay,” she said, stifling a yawn.

He smiled at her. “I’ll call you later, if you don’t mind.”

“I would love that,” she said.  She stared at him in the glow of the security light, the love she’d tried so hard to hide for years fairly beaming from her face. He definitely felt that throughout his entire body.

“Okay, then,” he said, reluctant to let her go. He heard the driver opening the bottom luggage compartments of the bus, Michael calling for help.  He sighed. “I’d better go.”

“I’m so glad I have my best friend back,” she said.

“Me too.  I love you,” he finished softly.

“I love you too.” With a dazed smile and shake of her head, she pressed the unlock button on her key fob and got inside her Yaris. He watched her leave with a light heart and a goofy grin on his face.  She waved before she turned the corner.

Jim wondered idly if there was such a thing as a friend/lover zone, because he was happy to fit neatly in that place with Pam: his best friend and love of his life.

Between several trips to the warehouse to store the table, chairs, and other supplies from their beach day fiasco, Jim took a moment to have a private word with Andy.  Andy was still in his bathing suit and bare feet, but someone had given him a dry Dunder Mifflin t-shirt to wear.

“Hey, I don’t know how much you heard when you were floating near Pam and me earlier…I uh, know you’re good friends with Karen, so…”

Andy nodded. “No worries, Big Tuna. From what I heard, you and Pam have been circling each other a long time. Sounds to me like a love story for the ages. Far be it from me to try to interfere with that epicness.   Just so long as you go easy on Karen, and don’t do anything more behind her back.” There was a hint of warning there, which Jim respected.

“I have no intention of making this any harder than it has to be. I like Karen. I think she’s a great person. I hate that I’m going to have to hurt her, but I’m in love with Pam—have been for years. Our timing has just really sucked.”

“Go with your heart, bro; that’s always been my life’s motto.”

Jim stuck out his hand, which Andy gladly shook. “Thanks man,” Jim said.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

The moment Jim got into his car to leave, he dialed Pam’s number and put it on speaker phone for his drive home.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hi. Is it too late to call?” He started the car and backed out of his space, waving to Michael and the camera crew as he left.

She laughed, and he felt his body grow warm. “No. It’s only ten o’clock.”

“It seems later. I know it sounds corny, but I miss you.  I’ve been missing you for a year.  God, it feels good to tell you that.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I know what you mean.”

They were each uncomfortably quiet, and he smiled, remembering similar calls with girls as a teenager.

“You could come over,” she said, and he heard a hint of suggestiveness in her voice teenage Jim had only dreamed of hearing from a girl.  And he was so very tempted.

“I wish I could, you don’t even know. But it’s…best this way, at least for now.”

“Well, we’ve done so many things wrong lately, why not one more thing?” He could tell she was only half kidding.

He laughed. “Are you trying to seduce me, Beesly?”

“I don’t know. Is it working?”

He gripped the steering wheel till his knuckles turned white. “Yes,” he croaked. Her chuckle this time was low and sexy, and it tingled down his spine. “You’re killing me, Bees,” he said, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. He was stopped at a stop sign, and he could either turn right to go home, or…

She gave an exaggerated sigh. “Ah, well. Four years without you—what’s a couple more?”

He turned right. “Yeah. We can do this. I’d still like to talk to you on the phone awhile.  Whatcha doin’?” He supposed that was a little safer than whatcha wearin’.

“Well…I just got home, obviously. I poured myself a glass of wine and I’m sitting on my couch, relaxing.  I looked in the mirror a second ago and I think I got sunburned.”

“Wow, and where?” The memory of her body in that bathing suit made him tingle in other places too.

“Jim!” she exclaimed in mock outrage.

“I liked your bathing suit today,” he said, purposefully lowering his own voice to an intimate level.

“Oh, really. I don’t remember showing anyone my bathing suit.”

“I uh, might have peeked, when you were sunbathing.”

“You did not.”

“Yep. Spied on you before I sat on that rock—for an inappropriately long amount of time.”

“Wow. You perv.” But she sounded pretty pleased, actually.

He smiled. “I hope to see it again sometime.”

“I’m actually wearing it right now…under my clothes.”

His heart had jumped at the beginning of her sentence, as she had certainly intended. “That was just mean, Pam.”

Where had this sexy banter been all his life, Jim thought happily. He pulled into the parking space in front of his townhouse and turned off the engine. He didn’t want to stop talking to her. Not ever again.

“I’m home now,” he told her. “It’s going to be awkward taking a shower with you listening.”

She laughed. “Now who’s being mean.”

His eyes widened. “Wow…did you want to listen, Beesly? And you called me pervy.”

“I’d rather watch…someday,” she said, and he knew her too well not to recognize the bravery it took her to say such a thing.

“That’s it. I’m coming over.”

“Jim—” she began, and he laughed at her terror that he’d called her bluff.

“I’m kidding. Actually, I just want to shower and go to bed. It’s been a long day.”

“I agree. Okay. We’ll just have to shower at the same time then—in two different places.”

“But nothing says we can’t think of each other while we’re doing that,” he added, knowing full well what else he’d probably be doing in that shower without her. Otherwise, there would be no way he’d be getting to sleep that night.

“Nothing at all,” she agreed.

“So then…it’s a date, sorta,” he said, his voice hoarse as his imagination began to run wild.

“Yep.” Was it still his imagination, or did she sound a little out of breath?  “Call me tomorrow?”

“Definitely.”

“All right.  Goodnight, Jim.”

“Night, Pam.”

“I love you.” This they both said at the same time.

It was so great to finally be on the same page.

Chapter 5           

It was a very long Saturday, but Jim and Pam spent a lot of it on the phone with each other. It started as a text Saturday morning.

Jim: Good morning :)

Pam: Yes, it is. Except I miss you.

Jim: I miss you too. Can I call you?

Pam: PLEASE!

Pam picked up the moment her phone rang. It was seven-thirty, and she was still in bed, dozing until she thought it was late enough to call him. She grinned as she answered.

“Hey.  You’re up early on a Saturday.”

“I know. Kinda weird. I slept like the dead and woke up wishing for the first time in awhile that it was a work day.”

She chuckled. “And why would that be?” she asked coyly.

“Listen to you, Beesly. So flirty.  You know why.”

She sighed. “Yeah. It’s going to be a long weekend.”

“Whose crazy idea was it not to see each other?”

“I believe that was a mutual decision. We need to start this thing with no one between us.”

“So this is a thing now?” His voice was deeper with sleep, amazingly sexy in her ear, and Pam felt warm all over. She closed her eyes and luxuriated in how sexy it made her feel. She stretched beneath the covers.

“Yeah. I’d say it was definitely a thing.  Are you still in bed?”

“Oh wow. This call suddenly took a turn. Yeah, I’m in bed.  Are you?”

“Yeah.”

They were both quiet then, their minds full of sensual images, their hearts picking up speed. They weren’t ready to go there yet, were they?

“Are you still in your jammies?” he asked lightly.

She smiled at his un-sexy choice of words, and she realized he was giving her a choice. She could turn this into her very first foray into phone sex, or she could keep things on a lighter note, fall back into their safer flirty banter.  She decided to fall somewhere in between.

“I don’t wear jammies,” she replied, letting that sink in. She might have heard his breath catch, so she decided to clarify: “Tank top and my unmentionables.”

He laughed. “Unmentionables? Am I on the phone with your me-maw?”

“No, but I could give you her number…”

“That’s just disturbing, Pam.”

“Hey, you brought her up.  Now, what are you wearing, Halpert?”

“Just my skivvies.” His dad had been a Marine, and occasionally, over the years, he would toss in some of the military slang he’d grown up hearing.

“I take it that means underwear? Boxers or briefs?”

“I’ll leave that for you to find out some day.  This is moving way too fast for me.” But his tone was teasing, and on her end of the phone, she rolled her eyes.

The rest of the day went much like this—either texting or talking. They did laundry “together,” watched the same terrible movies on TV with much laughter and running commentary, but mostly they simply enjoyed talking to each other about everything under the sun. It was just so amazing to be able to do this at all that it was sometimes overwhelming, the happiness they both felt. There were many times when one of them would suddenly say: “This is so great,” or “I missed this.”

Sometimes the conversation would turn serious, when Karen or Roy were mentioned, or when they spoke of the dark times of their physical and emotional separation of the past year. They both had lots of regrets, shed a few tears that had them rethinking not seeing each other that day, so desirous were they to hold and comfort one another. But they stayed strong, and the day went by relatively quickly because of their almost constant contact.

They finally said goodnight around one a.m. Jim had consumed a few bottles of beer with his delivered pizza, Pam half a bottle of wine with her Lean Cuisine, so they were pleasantly relaxed, their voices quiet and intimate. In their separate beds with half of Scranton between them, they spoke of how things might be after Sunday.

“I want to take you out next Friday night, on a real date,” he told her. “Where would you like to go?”

“Surprise me.  I’m easy.”

“What? Well things are definitely looking up for me, then.”

She laughed softly. “You know what I mean. I don’t care where we go. Dinner and a movie is fine. Or just dinner.” Or we can skip all that and just find a bed, she thought, with a little shiver of anticipation.

“I’m a guy, Beesly, you gotta help me out a little here. Italian? Mexican? Steak? Seafood?”

“Hmmm…Steak. But that’s all I’m helping you with. I’m an old-fashioned girl. The first date is up to the one who does the inviting. Seriously, though, I’m not that picky. I’m just looking forward to being with you, among other things…”

“What other things?”

“You’re a guy, remember? I’m pretty sure you don’t need any help coming up with those kinds of ideas.”

“True. I have lots of ideas. Would you like to hear some of them?”

Here he was, giving her a choice again. But it was late and she was a little tipsy, and yeah, horny, from having that voice of his in her ear all day.

“Yeah. Lay one on me,” she surprised him by saying.

He paused so long that she wondered if she’d lost their connection.

“Jim?”

“Yeah. Uh, I’m here. I just had to pick my jaw up off the floor.”

She chuckled, pleased to hear her own voice had taken on the sensual timbre of her emotions.  “Go on, unless of course you were bluffing…”

“Oh, I wasn’t bluffing. I’ve had years to imagine what I would do with you if you were mine. I’m just surprised you want to hear about it. Some of these scenarios would definitely earn an X rating.”

Her heart jolted at this, but she tried to sound nonchalant. “Oh, really?  I’m shocked, Jim, truly shocked…How about you start out with something PG-13, then work your way up the rating scale, just to see what I can handle.”

She could hear the smile in his voice. “You sure?  You can stop me if it gets too much.”

“Like, with a safe word?”

He laughed. “Sure.”

She looked around her bedroom, dimly lit by the bedside lamp. She noticed some clean laundry she’d left folded on her dresser. “Thong,” she said mischievously.

“God,” he said, “I’m the one who’s gonna need the safe word.” She could just see him running his hands nervously through his tousled hair. He took a deep breath. “Ok, are you ready?”

“Yep.” She snuggled down under the covers in anticipation. “Fire away.”

“So, we’re in a meadow, far away from town…”

“A meadow?” she teased. “Like in Twilight…?”

He faked annoyance. “You wanna hear this or not?”

“Sorry. Please, proceed.”

“Anyway, we’re in a meadow, on a blanket, having a picnic. It’s in the early summer, so it’s warm; flowers are everywhere. You’re in a pretty dress with your hair down, and we’re drinking wine and eating gourmet stuff you bought at some fancy store.”

She smiled to herself. Jim, she was amazed to hear, was a romantic at heart.

“We finish our lunch, and we lay down on the blanket. I look down at you and kiss you, and your hands go in my hair. My hands go up your skirt—”

“Wait—this is PG-13?”

“I got news for you, Pam, in all of these fantasies we end up naked, so…”

“So what you’re saying is, the set up starts out tame, but all roads lead to X?”

“Yeah, pretty much. You want me to go on?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “Sorry. I’ll try not to interrupt again.”

He exaggerated clearing his throat, then his voice went low, like she liked it best.  “Anyway, your legs are really soft—and I know for sure this must be true, having seen your legs for myself yesterday—and you tremble when I touch you. We’re both breathing very fast, and your tongue is in my mouth, and my hand goes higher and higher up your leg until I happily discover you aren’t wearing panties--”

“No panties?! What kind of girl do you think I am?”

“This is my dream, sweetheart, and in my dreams, Dream Pam wears no panties. It’s not a commentary on your character. As a matter of fact, it’s something I greatly admire—”

She laughed. “Okay. Sorry again. Continue.”

“I touch you, and you moan into my mouth. We keep kissing, and you start unbuttoning my shirt, then my pants. I want you so much I think I’m gonna explode. I can’t wait anymore, and then I grab you by the waist and set you down on top of me. Your skirt settles around us, and—”
“Thong!”

“What?”

“Thong! Thong!” Her heart was racing so hard she felt like she was having a coronary. Her hand had slid beneath the covers as he spoke, and she suddenly realized that she didn’t want her first orgasm with him to be over the phone.

“I didn’t even get to the best part,” he protested, though his voice now was hoarse, shaky.  She wondered vaguely where his hand was at the moment.

“I uh, think we should go to bed. I mean, to sleep.  I’m sorry. This—I—I’ve never done this before. Over the phone, I mean.” She was so glad he couldn’t see how red her face was.

“Welcome to my years of agony,” he said softly, sounding amused, but also mildly disappointed. “I did warn you.”

“Well, I underestimated your very vivid imagination. Ever consider writing romance novels? So, on second thought, I think I’d like to wait, and hear these stories in person.  Better yet, maybe I could help you act them out sometime.” She tried to temper his disappointment with a seductive promise.

“I’d like that,” he said.  “Well, good-night Pam.  Just one more day to get through…”

“Yeah, thank God. Good night, Jim. And I can’t wait to do all the things you’ve ever dreamed of.”

“I’m happy to hear that. It’s gonna take a long time to get through the entire catalog, though.”

“That’s fine with me.  I love you.”

“I love you too. I’m so glad I don’t need Dream Pam anymore. Real Pam is turning out to be so much better.”

“Just you wait, Halpert. Just you wait.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sunday afternoon found Jim in the grocery store to stock up on Ramen noodles and frozen French fries, but he threw in a couple of steaks and some stuff for salads for the dinner he planned to cook for Pam on their date. He had a small back patio with a grill he’d yet to fire up this year. He was on the phone with Pam as he shopped, disappointed to discover she’d gotten up early and done her shopping already at the same store. It would have been nice to have accidentally run into her.

“I need to spend the afternoon writing up something for Michael tomorrow, about the indefinable qualities of everyone in the office so that he can choose his successor.”

“Oh, fun. Well call me if you need help. I have a few opinions about Dwight that might be helpful…”

He was putting away his groceries when there came a knock on the door. His heart leapt in the hope that Pam had decided to break the rules and had snuck over to see him. But it was Karen, and she’d obviously been crying.

Shit, he thought, immediately assuming that Andy had gone back on his word and ratted him out.

“Hey,” he said hesitantly, stepping aside to let her in. Even upset, she still looked classy and beautiful, her jeans expensive and fitting perfectly, her tee an olive green with a trendy vest over it. She wore soft leather flats and a designer purse with fringe, slung over her shoulder. Her dark hair was straight and glossy. She was way out of his league; he’d always thought so.

“I didn’t expect you till this evening,” he said, as she absently draped her purse on the coat rack by the door. Her movements were jerky, nervous, and her eyes darted around his living room without really seeing it.

“Yeah, I uh, needed to get home.”  She briefly met his eyes and looked away.

“What’s wrong, Karen?” he asked, bracing himself.  “Sorry again about your aunt. I’m sure that must have been hard…”

“Yeah. I mean, I was okay. My mom was a mess at the funeral yesterday. Can we sit down?” She asked suddenly.

“Sure.” She walked ahead of him to the couch and sat down heavily. He sat across from her in his easy chair. If she was about to lay into him about Pam, it might be better if he wasn’t sitting right next to her.  “What’s wrong?” he repeated. “You seem…upset.”

She looked up from her feet, and her eyes instantly filled with tears. “Oh, God, Jim, I’m so sorry. I screwed up. I don’t know how to tell you this.” She put her face in her hands and wept.

He waited, confused, concerned, becoming agitated himself as the minutes passed. But wait, she said she screwed up?

“Karen, you’re scaring me a little,” he said. “Can’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

She took a deep, shuttering breath, and grabbed a tissue from the Kleenex box on his coffee table.

“I guess I should start at the beginning. Yesterday, after the funeral, some of my old high school friends called me because they knew I was in town. After my mom went to bed, I met them at one of our old hangouts—the bowling alley.” She laughed without humor. “We bowled a game, had a few beers, talked about old times. My high school boyfriend was there.” She gave him a sheepish glance.

Ah, he thought. He had an inkling of where this might be going. “You two hooked up,” he stated.

“Oh, God. I’m so sorry. It had been an emotional day. I’d had too much to drink. I-I was feeling jealous that I wasn’t at the beach with you the day before, that Pam was going to be there…All through the funeral I was worried about what might have happened with you and her without me there.  And when you didn’t call me yesterday, I sort of…freaked out, wondering. I was afraid to call you because of what I might hear. And then, I just wanted to forget for awhile.”

It was Jim’s turn to look at his feet. “I didn’t call because I didn’t want to bother you while you were with your family.” Well, that was partly true, he thought guiltily.

“Look, I’m sorry for doubting you, for being so pathetic that I got drunk and made such a stupid mistake. I regretted it the moment it happened. It meant nothing, Jim, I swear.”

He let out a rough bark of laughter, his hand sliding through his hair and then resting on the back of his neck. “Wow, Karen. Just wow. Totally not what I was expecting to hear today.”

Her brows knit in confusion while residual tears streaked her mascara. “You’re not mad? Why aren’t you mad?” She was suspicious again, and rightly so.

He shook his head, sighed, his hands dropping to his knees. “This is all my fault. I don’t blame you for anything. I encouraged you to come to Scranton, started things with you in an effort to forget—but you know this already. God knows we’ve rehashed it endlessly for months. Anyway, I really like you, Karen. We’ve had some good times, and there have been times when I did forget, at least for a little while. But you were right about me. About Pam. I don’t think I’ll ever get over her, and it’s not fair to you to lead you on, hoping that I will. Your instincts were right about beach day. Pam and I talked Friday, and we both realized…we love each other, Karen. We’ve always loved each other, even though we’ve both been hurt. I was waiting to talk to you tonight, in person, to tell you this.”

“What?” she said. And the mixture of emotions on her face at this news was almost comical. She couldn’t exactly throw stones now, at least not really big ones, but she was obviously hurt, still cared about him, felt betrayed but also justified.

“Pam and I are together. Or at least we will be soon.”

“Did you sleep with her?” she demanded. 

“No,” he said flatly. He almost said he wouldn’t do that to her, but he didn’t want to make her feel guilty about her own decision, when she really didn’t need be. After all, he’d been cheating in his heart for months, not to mention those amazing kisses Friday night with Pam. He wondered how he would be feeling about Karen cheating if he and Pam hadn’t come to terms. I’d be relieved, he realized morosely.  

She wiped her eyes again, but it was as if all the anger and fear had drained out of her, and in their place…calm acceptance. It was obviously over—no all-night discussions for days would revive this dead horse.

“I’m going to go for that interview at Corporate,” she said. “And if that doesn’t pan out, I’ll see if I can transfer somewhere else. I heard something about Utica having an opening…”

Jim nodded. “I know you have the potential to go far in this company. You’ve always been much more driven than me. And I know it sounds lame, but I am sorry, Karen. You didn’t deserve any of this. I hope you find someone much better than me, someone that really deserves you.  I hope you can forgive me some day.”

“I could blame you for everything and maybe be justified,” she said. “But you didn’t coerce me into going to Scranton. I liked you, wanted to get to know you, thought there could be something between us. I took a chance coming here—it was my choice. My mistake. Then, when I suspected there was something between you and Pam, when I saw it with my own eyes, I should have bolted. But I’ve learned something, Jim. You can’t make someone stop loving someone else. I hope Pam finally realizes what she has, that she doesn’t throw you away again.”

Jim got up then, moved to the couch beside her where he’d once feared to be.

“Hey,” he said. “We have all got to get on with our lives, forget this past year. There’s a lot of hurt and guilt to go around. We should all try to forgive each other, forgive ourselves.”

He put his hand on her upper arm, and she looked up at him, seeing him as if for the first time. She touched his stubbled cheek. He wasn’t hers. He never was. And he was right. The sooner they all tried to get past this, the better it would be for everyone. She threw her arms around him then, the tears coming again, but slowly, silently.

Jim gently rubbed her back in comforting circles, kissed her cheek, tasting bitter tears. He’d been a fool, and he’d been an ass. He closed his eyes, the citrus scent of her hair bringing back memories of all the times he’d buried his face there to forget someone else.

“I’m okay,” Karen said, pulling away, grabbing another tissue. She wiped at her face and stood up on shaky legs. Jim rose to help her, and he walked her to the door.

“I won’t be at work this week,” she said. “I’m taking some vacation days before the interview. I think it will be less…awkward that way.”

“Yeah.”

She hugged him again at the door, took her purse, then tiptoed up to press her lips to his. “Catch ya later, Halpert.” She gave him a wobbly grin, her eyes bright green and beautiful from her tears.

His answering smile was small, but rich with affection and regret. “Later, Filippelli.”

Chapter 6

Jim thought briefly about waiting until tomorrow to see Pam, but it was still early in the day, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else if he stayed in his apartment.  He picked up his phone to call, her, but smiled to himself, imagining the surprise on her face when he showed up unexpectedly. His keys were in his pocket and his hand on the doorknob when he remembered he had no idea where she lived now. With a sigh, he went upstairs to his bedroom and turned on his computer. Hopefully the Dunder Mifflin online staff directory had been updated. Given the current inoperative state of the company website, he had his doubts. Sure enough, the Under Construction page greeted him. His physical copy was in his desk drawer at the office, and he’d made himself resist the curiosity to look for himself when he got back to Scranton. The online white pages was no help either. It still listed her at her old place she’d shared with Roy.

He could call Toby, he supposed, but he didn’t want to bother him on a Sunday. Kelly might know. He contemplated the ramifications of that.

“Nope,” he said aloud, cringing to think how she would read something into why he was asking, how she’d ask a million leading questions…Then, he thought of Michael. Michael, the only one besides his mom and a few close confidants outside the office who knew the whole truth about his feelings for Pam.  He wondered if seeing Pam’s surprise would be worth involving Michael in his personal life.

He sighed. He would have to call her.

She answered on the second ring.

“Hi,” she said brightly. 

“Hey. May I ask you a personal question?”

She didn’t hesitate, and he grinned. “Absolutely,” she said.

“What’s your address?”

“And why do you need to know this information?”

“I got a job with the Census Bureau.”

“Oh, really? That’s interesting. The Census isn’t for another three years. Try again.”

“I’m updating the office directory.”

“That’s my job. Try again.”

“Okay, you caught me. I wanted to deliver you flowers. There you go, ruining the surprise.”

“Flowers? That’s so sweet! It’s been so long since anyone sent me flowers…But wait. It’s Sunday. Florists don’t deliver on Sundays.  And you could actually have them sent to me at work, since I’m not home on weekdays…”

“Jesus, Pam, I should have just called Kelly.” He sounded harsher than he’d intended, his frustration putting a huge damper on his former excitement.

“Hey. What’s really going on here?”

“I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I was wanting to come over to your place and surprise you, but I realized I didn’t have your new address.”

“Oh,” she said simply, then: “But I thought we were waiting for you to talk to Karen.”

“Karen’s been here and gone,” he said.

“She has?”

“Yeah.”

“How’d that go?”

“Give me your address and I’ll tell you in person. Unless your address is some sort of state secret or something, which I’m seriously beginning to think it is. Are you working for the CIA for real, Pam?”

“Yes, I’ve been trying to infiltrate a global criminal conglomerate. Dunder Mifflin Paper Company is just a front.”

“Wow. And you’ve been hiding in plain sight as a mild-mannered receptionist for years. Great cover. I suppose telling me your address could put us both in mortal danger.”

“It could. But since I’ve been trying to recruit you for years, I think I can finally trust you. 7221 Oak Drive. It’s the upstairs apartment in the back.”

“Well, that was surprisingly easy.” He switched to an exaggerated Russian accent. “Just give me a moment to inform my comrades, and we’ll be there momentarily.”

“Oh my God! It’ll be the Gulag for me for sure.”

They both finally broke character and laughed at their mutual droll humor. They were soulmates, he thought. No one got him like she did.

“I’ll see you in a bit,” he said softly, his throat tight with the love he felt for this woman.

“I can’t wait.”

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Pam was hovering around the window near her door waiting for him. He climbed the two flights and grinned at her when he saw her watching him. She opened the door before he’d reached it, and he took the last two steps with a single bound of his long legs, the flowers he’d brought for her lighting up her face even more.

“I deliver on Sundays,” he said, presenting the bouquet of apricot roses with a flourish, glad the grocery store had something halfway suitable. Before she could respond, he bent and kissed her. She smiled against his lips, and he walked her backward into her apartment. He pulled away after a moment and looked down at her with sparkling eyes.

“Hi,” he said, lightly rubbing her nose with his.

“You’re crushing my flowers,” she replied in amusement.

He stepped back. “Oops. Sorry. I was momentarily overcome by your beauty.”

She flushed. “Let me put these in water. Feel free to look around.  The bath and bedroom are down the hall.”

He paused in the suggestion of the foyer that broke directly into the open plan kitchen/living room. It was small but charming, and looked almost exactly as he’d imagined when he’d spoken to her about it months ago when he was in Stamford.  She filled a vase with water, and artfully arranged the dozen roses and greenery before setting them in a place of honor on the bar.

“They’re gorgeous, Jim. Thank you. Can I get you something to drink?”

He shook his head, then followed her into the kitchen. She turned to face him, and he gathered her in his arms again. “All I want is to keep doing this,” he said, and took her mouth again in a searing kiss. After a few torrid moments, he picked her up and set her on the counter, giving his neck a break from having to bend down so far.  She was pleasantly surprised at his passion, and her legs fell open so he could stand between them, her arms around his neck while his went to her waist.

His mouth was hot and gently demanding, and her mind cleared of coherent thought. She knew she was breathing heavily, her heart deafening in her ears, and she felt his pounding against her chest, felt the slight trembling of his fingers as he dared to caress the sensitive area just beneath her breasts. She finally had to pull away for air, but she kissed her way from his jaw to his ear, took his earlobe between her lips and teeth, while his grip on her torso tightened involuntarily. He drew in a sharp breath at the feel of her tongue laving his skin, and then he shivered. Meanwhile, her hands journeyed down his chest to slip beneath the hem of his black t-shirt, the firm muscles of his stomach tightening at her touch.

He was all hers at last, and a wave of lust overtook her. She found herself indulging in touching him as she’d always secretly dreamed of doing. His thick hair that slid sensually through her fingers. His shoulders, so broad, as if made for her to lean on (in every sense of the word). His chest, the soft, masculine hair there a revelation; the long bones and muscles of his forearms she’d always admired when he’d roll up his shirtsleeves.  His mouth. God, his mouth. Full lipped, dark pink, and sexy, whether it was forming a wide smile, quirking at a joke, or pressed intimately against hers.

His hands were busy too, cupping her breasts beneath her Joe Cool t-shirt, while he kissed her, sucking lightly on her tongue. Things were getting out of control very quickly, and he was the one to finally pull away.

“Jesus,” he exclaimed under his breath, his eyes wide-eyed and dazed.

She was bereft without him, and her hands reached for his. He took them—how could he resist?—looked down at them while he struggled for control.

“What are we doing here?” he asked shakily.

“I’m pretty sure it’s what we’ve always wanted to do, but that we weren’t free to before.”

He looked up at her, smiled crookedly. “Well that’s definitely true. But I don’t want you to have any regrets, that we went too fast. I mean, it was just a few days ago that we were barely speaking.”

“But we’ve been talking almost nonstop since Friday,” she said, pulling him closer once again. “And now that we’re both finally free, how about a little less talk and a little more action, Halpert?”

“Beesly!” he said, sounding both pleased and scandalized at the same time. “What’s got into you?”

“I’m working on that,” she said, and he actually blushed. She boldly wrapped her legs around his waist until he was flush against her, her hands still captured in his the only thing preventing her from going for the snap of his jeans.

“Wow.  I had no idea what I was walking into when I came over here.”

“You didn’t?” she asked huskily, bravely meeting his eyes with all the desire there she was no longer trying to hide.

“Well, I admit, I hoped…”

“We’ve talked about how much time we’ve wasted. Now, let’s stop talking.”

They stared at each other for a few heavy moments, trying to process what sleeping together now would mean; trying to read whether they were each really ready emotionally—there was no doubt they were ready physically; their entire beings were humming with it. Jim must have seen an answer in her eyes, for he released her hands, and his went to rest on her cheeks. He leaned forward, slanted his head, and kissed her, his tongue slipping past her lips in a slow, decadent move that made her heart squeeze and a moan arise from her throat.

“I want you,” he said, between hot, drugging kisses.

“Yes.”

For the second time since Friday, he picked her up in his arms, carrying her to a much different destination this time, stopping every few feet to kiss her, while her arms held onto his shoulders, her legs wrapped round his waist. Her dim bedside lamp was on, a purple scarf thrown over the shade, bathing her full-size, four-poster bed with a dreamy hue. Everything about her room was romantic and perfectly Pam, from the gauzy, drape enclosed canopy to the mandala print duvet in deep red and gold, piled high with multicolored throw pillows. Jim had only a moment to take in the vague impression of fine art prints on the walls before all his attention returned to laying Pam gently on the bed.

He toed off his shoes before joining her on the comforter, not hesitating to cover her body with his for the first time. It was heady, almost unbearably exciting, feeling her beneath him, pressing her slim body into the soft down while his lips returned to hers.

He unwrapped her like a gift. Each article of clothing he removed from her was the realization of a dream, and he kissed and caressed her until they were both panting and clamoring for release. He stood up from the bed to remove his clothes, while she pulled back the covers to welcome him into her bed. She watched him, surprised to find that underneath his clothes, he wasn’t as gangly as he’d always appeared. His body was slender to be sure, but there was lean, defined muscle in his stomach and chest, in his thighs and biceps, attesting to his love of playing basketball. She’d noted before the pleasing broadness of his shoulders, the manly fur of his chest, but nothing could have prepared her for the pleasure of his naked body pressed to hers, of the firmness of his buttocks beneath her hands as she pulled his hardness to rest in the cradle between her thighs.

She’d never felt so aroused in her life, and her vision seemed to fade around the edges with her elevated breathing. She let her fingers skim over his well-defined back, then again into his hair, already in crazy disarray from their earlier forays there. While he suckled her breasts, heightening her pleasure to a fever pitch, his hand slipped lower, finding her slick and ready. She drew in a gasp as he employed his thumb and fingers to bring her to the edge, then over it, her cries filling the room. He kissed her heated cheeks, pressed his lips reverently to hers.

“I love you,” he whispered. “So much.”

He got up a moment, and, still in a daze, she heard the rustle of his jeans on the floor, the telltale sound of a tearing condom wrapper. He’d barely given her time to experience the last frisson of reaction before he was inside of her, advancing slowly until, with a moan, he filled her completely. He was breathing heavily against her neck, fighting for control until she bent her knees, inviting him to move. When she thrust up to meet him, he took the hint with a small, breathless laugh, sliding out a little before plunging back in. Their rhythm seemed borne of a timeless connection, an instinct that had her rising and falling with him like the tide.

They held each other tightly when it was over, Pam’s tears of joy and release wetting his chest as she nuzzled there, waiting for her heartrate to slow.

“Wow,” was his reaction, so typical of Jim that she laughed, kissed him just above his flat nipple.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

And then they slept.

She awoke to the feel of his hands floating lightly over her body, stopping now and again to kiss a prominent freckle, the crease at her elbow, the curve of her breast; his hair tickling and tantalizing as he went.

“Sorry to wake you,” he said with a grin, obviously not sorry at all. “I was in such a hurry I didn’t take the time to explore earlier.”

She looked down at him, his tousled hair making him look even younger, though his sleepy eyes were pure sex. He continued his expedition, and she nearly jolted off the bed when he kissed his tongue into the juncture of her leg and thigh.

“Jim…”

“Hmm?”

She found that, despite what they’d just done together, she was embarrassed. She hadn’t expected him this afternoon, and her plans to shave her legs and trim a few other places had not come to fruition yet, and her last shower had been the night before.

“Come back up here,” she said softly, her hands on his shoulders. He looked up from his work and smiled, his eyes skimming leisurely over her breasts before meeting her eyes. “Don’t go all shy on me, Beesly. You have nothing to be ashamed of, believe me. God, since I saw you in that bikini, I haven’t been able to think of much else.”

“But—” she began, before his tongue slid into her most sensitive place. She gave up her protests in the pure ecstasy of the moment, her hands holding his head as he learned every intimate crevice and curve, circling her tight bud before plunging his tongue inside her body.

“Oh God…oh Jim!”

 All her nerves and inhibitions were forgotten in the power of her climax, and when he finally raised his head after one more light kiss to her sensitized flesh, she felt totally wrecked. He lay beside her on his back, smiling, inordinately pleased with himself. He was the one dozing when she finally regained her senses enough to move to return the favor.

She trailed her long, loose hair down his chest and stomach, delighting in how he sighed and quivered as she made her way lower. He was already hard before she even took him in her mouth, and the sounds he made nearly made her come again. After a few minutes thoroughly enjoying the torture she was applying, she reached out a blind hand for her bedside table, found a condom in the drawer and unrolled it onto him with her mouth. He held her waist as she sat on him, and she guided him in, a long, low moan escaping both of them as she took him deep inside.

Her hands on his chest, she took full control, going slowly,  working them both to a fever pitch, her name on his lips as they both came.  Neither of them had ever experienced that before, and she lay on his damp chest, shaking as the residual tremors shot through her.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

“Amazing. You?”

“I have no words,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

Neither of them spoke for a very long time.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Later, over cans of mini ravioli and a salad, they sat at Pam’s small kitchen table and spoke softly, laughed rather breathlessly, touched frequently. She wore an old t-shirt and sleep pants, while he sported his own tee and boxer shorts, both  wearing damp, slicked back hair and wide smiles.

“I would have cooked you something special if I’d known you would be here tonight,” she said. “All I’ve got is salad, yogurt, canned soup and frozen dinners—oh, and ice cream.”

He laughed around a mouthful of Chef Boyardee. “A lot healthier than a bachelor’s kitchen,” he told her, gesturing with his fork.  “This is great though. Ravioli hasn’t been on my rotation in a while.”

She grinned. “I’ll make it up to you.”

He reached out and touched her cheek, then leaned over the table and gently kissed her lips. “This is easily the best meal I’ve ever had in my life. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

She blushed, agreeing wholeheartedly. They’d certainly worked up an appetite.

“Hey,” she said a few minutes later. “Tell me what happened with Karen.”

He sighed, sad to have the real world interrupting, but knowing Pam, as much as he might want to, he knew they couldn’t avoid this topic forever.

“She cheated on me with an old boyfriend in Stamford Saturday night.”

Pam gasped. “Seriously? And she told you?”

He nodded. “We both agreed ending it was for the best. I was ready to take all the blame for everything, but she was a big person about it, said she made her share of mistakes too. It really wasn’t bad, as far as breakups go, though I’m sorry she had more invested in our relationship than me. Karen’s great. I hope she finds someone who loves her equally.”

Pam smiled sadly. “I like her, no matter how hard I tried to hate her. I feel bad for her, uprooting her life and coming here like she did. She’s probably feeling really lost right now. I honestly wish her the best.”

“Yeah,” he said, “me too.”

They finished their dinner and made their way with a container of Rocky Road and two spoons to sit in front of the TV.  Jim picked up an open notebook from atop her coffee table, the lined sheet containing her neat, precise handwriting.

“What’s this?” he asked with a grin, when he noticed the first line: Dear Michael:

She smiled. “Oh, those are my notes from beach day. Even though he let me play the games, I still couldn’t get out of my assignment.”

“May I?” he asked.

She shrugged, and he could already tell he was going to enjoy this by the sparkle in her eye. He read it aloud.

Dear Michael:

You asked me to take notes that would help you define people’s character--their humor, their charisma. What are the indefinable qualities that make people at our branch want to follow you? Well, after a day at the beach, watching my coworkers, this is the conclusion I’ve come to.

They accepted the fact that they had to spend an entire work day at the beach competing for the opportunity to become your replacement, and they went along with everything you asked of them. But I think you’re crazy to ask me through notes to be able to tell you who everyone is, in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. But what I found out is, that each one of them is a receptionist, a cool guy, a minion, a hot head, a wife, a prude, a grump, a temp, an Hispanic, a hottie, a lush, a weirdo, a gossip, and a glutton.

Does that answer your question?

Sincerely yours,

The Dunder Mifflin Beach Club

Jim laughed. “Oh my God. You totally ripped off The Breakfast Club. This is brilliant, Beesly!”

Pam shrugged and blushed a little at his praise. “You think I was too harsh? I mean, I was trying to think of how Michael sees us. I’m not sure if I got everyone right, and it’s definitely not politically correct. I don’t know. You think he’ll get it?”

Jim smiled, leaned over to kiss her next to him on the couch. “Hey, when is Michael ever politically correct? And as long as I’m the cool guy, I’m fine with these characterizations.”

“No Jim. You’re the hot head. Andy’s the cool guy.” She tried and failed to keep a straight face over that one.

His eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’ll show you how cool I can be.”

He took the ice cream carton from her hand and took a big scoop with his spoon, and then, suddenly, his cold lips were on her neck. She shivered, laughing, backing up into the corner of the couch, trying halfheartedly to get away. He set the ice cream and spoons on the table after filling his mouth again, and advanced on her with obvious lecherous intent.

She never did get the chocolate stain off her shirt.

Chapter 7: Conclusion

As tempted as Jim was to stay the night with Pam, they both needed a good night sleep if they were going to get up early for work the next day. So, he left her naked in bed at ten o’clock with a long, deep kiss.

“Sure I can’t persuade you,” she whispered against his lips.

“Oh, I’m definitely sure you could. But I’m resisting. It’s for your own good.”

She grinned, her hands playing underneath his shirt. “Your loss, Halpert,” she said.

He groaned, closing his eyes as her hand moved to cover the placket of his jeans.

“See you tomorrow,” he said, pulling reluctantly away.

She sat up. “I’ll walk you out. Let me get my robe—”

“Nope. Stay there. That’s how I want to remember you tonight when I’m in my cold, lonely bed.”

She gave him an exaggerated pout, then she pulled back the covers. As she’d predicted, he stopped dead in his tracks in her bedroom doorway, his eyes roaming hungrily over her perfect body.

“You’re not playing fair.”

“Just one more kiss,” she said, holding out her arms.

He didn’t get out of there until eleven-thirty.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Hey, Michael. Can I talk to you in your office a minute?”

“Sure, Jim-Bob.”

Jim raised an eyebrow.

“Aw, we’re to The Waltons, now” he said wryly under his breath. “Nice.”

With a glance at Pam at reception, who gave him an encouraging smile, he followed his boss into his office, closing the door behind them.

“About that job at Corporate--” Jim began, taking a seat in front of Michael’s desk.

Michael sat down in his own chair.

“No, no. Look, I get it,” Michael interrupted.  “Young guy like you wants to go to the big city, try his wings, live in a crappy, overpriced apartment with your hot girlfriend. Believe it or not, I did that awhile myself. Well, minus the hot girlfriend. But I gotta say, the hot dogs weren’t nearly as good as advertised—”

“No, it’s not the hot dogs. I’ve decided not to apply for the job, so, if you’re not still mad at me, I’d like to throw my hat in the ring to be your replacement, if you go to New York.”

Michael stared at him a moment, and Jim watched the dizzying mixture of emotions flicker over his face. “I was about to give it to Dwight,” he said.

“Please, Michael. I mean, Dwight’s a great salesman, but his people skills totally suck. He’s gonna run this play like the Gestapo, and everyone will end up hating working here.” Even more than they already do, Jim added to himself.  He shuddered at his own image of Dwight, making them all goosestep into the conference room.

“Come on, Jim. You’re not usually so wishy-washy. What gives? Does this have something to do with why Toby told me Karen wouldn’t be in this week?”

“You’ll have to talk to Karen about that. But I will say, we broke up, and I’ve decided New York is not for me.”

Michael’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “Seriously? You gave up that hot piece of a—”

Jim rose abruptly.  “Okay. Nice talk, Michael. I just wanted you to know my change of plans. I would like to be Regional Manager, if the job is still open.”

“Well, jeez. Now I’m gonna have to rethink this all over again. And those notes from Pam didn’t help me a damn bit. I’ve come to the conclusion, Jim, that no one else can ever be me.”

“And thank God for that,” said Jim.

Michael smiled, taking it as a compliment, but then his eyes narrowed as Jim walked out the door.

Jim shrugged at Pam’s anxious expression.  He walked over to her desk, leaning on it like old times, absently raiding the jelly bean dispenser.

“I told him I was interested in his job.”

“Oh God, please don’t let him pick Dwight,” she whispered.

As they spoke of the devil, he appeared, walking over to stand beside Jim.

“You’re an idiot if you think you could ever get a job at Corporate,” said Dwight. 

“Oh? Why’s that?” asked Jim.

“Ha. I don’t have time to list all the reasons.”

“Just give me the top ten.”

Dwight cocked his head, trying to gauge whether it was worth the effort, or if Jim was just messing with him. He chose wisely. “Like I said, you’re an idiot. That’s the most important reason.”

“I guess that would be.  So, what if I was competing against you for Michael’s job?” For a moment, Dwight’s face showed panic, until he forced a condescending smile.

“Never in a million billion years. Michael will pick the best man for the job, the one with the most experience, not to mention the top salesman. Someone who’s loyal, who loves this branch like his own mother, who sucks his very life force from her bountiful teat--”

“Gross,” said Jim, making a face.

Dwight ignored him. “--not some traitor who would consider leaving for the wretched hive of scum and villainy that is New York City.”

Jim raised an eyebrow. “Wow. A traitor. Better not say that to Michael…As a matter of fact, I think it’s my obligation to tell him you feel that way about him, so that he can make an informed decision about his possible successor.” He turned to walk toward Michael’s office. “Michael!”

Dwight frowned and reached out a hand. “No! Don’t, Jim! Stop!”

Jim stopped, brushed off Dwight’s hand. “That’s what I thought. Who’s the idiot now?”

“Still you, obviously.”

“Michael!” cried Jim again.

Dwight shook his head. “Fine. Just shut up, okay? I’m the idiot. Does that make you happy?”

“Not in the least,” said Jim.

With a huff, Dwight strode back to his desk.  Michael peaked out of his office.

“What the hell is going on out here? What’s all the yelling about?”

“Nothing, Michael,” said Dwight. He turned a murderous glance at Jim, who had a neutral expression on his face as he stood again at Reception.

“Well, keep it down, will ya? Some of us are trying to sle—to work in here.” He shut his office door and returned to his desk.

Jim smiled smugly at Dwight, who mumbled, “Idiot” again, under his breath.

“Well that was mean,” Pam said to Jim, but she was grinning.

Jim gave a sardonic smirk.

“And to think I considered leaving all this.”

She reached up and surreptitiously touched his hand, meeting his eyes tenderly. “All this is sure glad you’re really back, and that you’re here to stay.”

He squeezed her hand, and after looking around, brought it briefly to his lips.

“Me too, Beesly.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Two weeks later…

To everyone’s surprise, neither Michael nor Karen got the job at Corporate, but Ryan, of all people, did. No one besides Michael was too sad to see him go. Karen secured a position in Utica, and things went back to what amounted to normal at Dunder Mifflin Scranton; at least for most people. Things weren’t normal at all between Pam and Jim, but in this case, that was a very good thing. They embarked upon the secret love affair that they’d always dreamed of, spending most nights together, stealing kisses in the elevator or on the stairwell, playing footsies beneath the conference table.  They were in no hurry to make any kind of announcements as they enjoyed just being together in the privacy of their intimate bubble.

Suddenly, Scranton no longer seemed like such a dead end to Jim, not when he was back in his old desk where he could exchange heartfelt glances with Pam throughout the day, knowing that he could go home and make love to her all night, blocking out all the tedium of the workday. His job still sucked and was mind-numbingly dull at times, but it would do for now, as long as he had Pam.  The dream of her had superseded any dreams of a better career, and he was totally fulfilled just loving her and having her love him in return.

On Saturday morning of Memorial Day weekend, Jim awoke to a sharp rap on his front door. Pam had left for her parent’s house after work the night before, and she was spending part of the long weekend there, so he’d resigned himself to a lonely couple of days without her. At the sound of the knock, he groaned and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes. The bedside clock said 7:00.  A text dinged from his phone.

I’m at the door, sleepyhead.

He was suddenly very wide awake. Pam was there!

Be down in a sec, he replied.

He stumbled sleepily to the bathroom, used the facilities, splashed cold water on his face and swished mouthwash in his mouth. He put on a t-shirt on the way down the stairs, finally answering the door in that and his boxer shorts.

Pam’s glowing face awaited him, and he grinned to see how adorable she looked. She wore overall shorts over a pink t-shirt, her Keds, a ponytail, and a blue baseball cap that said Gone Fishing in pink letters above a cartoon fish on a line. He pulled her into a bear hug in the open doorway.

 
“This is an amazing surprise,” he said close to her ear.  “What happened to the parents’ weekend?”

She gave him a final squeeze around his waist and stepped back, her smile still wide, her eyes still sparkling with excitement.

“When I got there last night, Dad’s latest project was sitting in the driveway.”  She grabbed Jim’s hand and pulled him outside into the cool morning air, pointing to her little Yaris, triple parked in the middle of the lot. A small, green fishing boat secured to a trailer was attached to a newly installed hitch below the rear bumper of her car. The boat had been christened Pammy in white script.

“Oh my God!” he said. “Is that the boat?”

“Yep. When I asked my dad about it a couple weeks ago, he said he still had it. I asked if I could borrow it sometime, and low and behold, he dug it out, cleaned it up and checked for leaks. He even put a little trolling motor on it so we don’t have to row. He bought me that trailer and everything, put the hitch on my car last night. Said if he couldn’t go out on the boat with me anymore, he was glad I had someone else that would.” She was tearing up now, and Jim pulled her to his side as they both stood and admired the little boat and all that it represented.

“Wow, Pam. That’s just…wow.”

She dashed her tears away, her smile returning. “So…what are you waiting for, Halpert, get dressed and let’s go fishing!”

“Seriously?”

“Well, yeah, why do you think I got up at four this morning to make it over here?   I have bait and poles, an ice chest and a picnic lunch. All I need is a fishin’ buddy.”

He hugged her again, her enthusiasm contagious. “Well, okay then!”

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting in Pam’s car, Pam at the wheel. Jim wore cargo shorts, a t-shirt, and a Red Sox baseball cap. Before she started the car, she reached into the back seat, and he heard the crackling of a plastic grocery bag.

“I got you a better hat—to replace the one you lost in the lake on beach day.”

He grinned. “You didn’t have to do that. I considered losing that hat an investment.” She blushed, remembering that he’d taken it off during their first real kiss.

“But this one is special.” She presented the navy blue cap to him, with the words, Life’s a Beach emblazoned upon it in white letters, complete with a small embroidered palm tree in the sand.

“Oh, Pam,” he said, smirking at the corny sentiment. “This is awesome.”

“It was between this one and Kiss My Bass.”

He chuckled. “I can see your dilemma.”

He promptly removed his Boston hat and settled her new purchase onto his matted mop of hair.  “How do I look?” he asked her, his grin wide, his eyes dancing.

She reached out and touched his stubbled cheek, then leaned across the console to kiss him softly. “Perfect,” she whispered.

They only went as far as Lake Scranton for this first run, and except for a few funny moments when Pam backed the trailer almost too far down into the water of the boat launch, nearly toppling Jim, who was standing outside directing, they were afloat on the lake in no time.

They spent a pleasant morning fishing and talking, only dangerously rocking the boat once or twice. They threw a few small fish back, but ended up with four good size bass fit for their supper later. Jim lost the Rock-Paper-Scissors war, so he would be the one to clean them (although Jim would have done it either way, after seeing the dread in her eyes). She happily agreed to fry them, however.

Around eleven, the lake was filling up with the holiday weekend crowd, so they motored their way back to shore. By chance, in looking for a picnic spot, they found their way back to the site of the office beach day activities, the charred wood in the sand a happy reminder of the fire walk where everything had started anew between them. Pam spread out a blanket on the sand, while Jim retrieved the picnic basket from the car.

It was a simple meal of sandwiches, chips, fruit, and sodas, but they were both so happy just to be together, it all tasted better than a gourmet repast. It was certainly much sexier, especially when they fed each other juicy strawberries, kissing between sweet bites. Their picnic things re-stowed, they lay on their backs on the blanket in the warm sun, baseball caps pulled low over their faces, hands entwined.

“Awww,” Jim sighed, eyes closed, relaxing happily.  “I read somewhere that life’s a beach. What does that mean exactly? I know life can be a bitch sometimes—considering the last year, I know that’s absolutely true.”

She smiled, enjoying their lazy, contented musings. “It could mean that it’s warm and fun and relaxing.”

“Or…it’s filled with sand fleas, painful sunburn and stinks of rotting fish.”

“And is that how your life’s feeling right now, Mr. Glass Half Empty?”

He rolled to his side then, removing his cap and surprising her with a long, deep kiss. After her initial gasp, her fingers slipped readily into his soft warm hair, holding him their while he passionately ravaged her mouth. He tasted of strawberries and sunshine, and her heart felt near to bursting with the love and happiness she felt in this moment.

He drew back from her mouth. “My glass, Beesly, is very very full right now.  And whenever I wear my new hat, or hear that expression, that is what I’ll think about. You—you are what I’ll think about. Ironically, I owe it all to this very beach and the stupid games Michael made us play that day. It woke me up, brought me back to you.”

She looked up at him, his face blotting out the sun, his eyes soft and filled with love.

“Well, welcome home, Halpert,” she said, and pulled him back to her lips.

THE END