Jim Halpert was late.

It wasn’t his usual late, the kind where he’d take a 5-minute stop to pick up an overpriced coffee on his walk to the station (because some mornings he felt like he deserved it.) No. It was a different late today: a ‘whoops I’ve slept through my 10 alarms’ kind of late. And as he hurried down the steps of the Hoyt-Schermerhorn Streets station, fancy cup of coffee in his left hand, Jim wondered what kind of miracle it would take to get him into work on time.

Hoyt-Schermerhorn Streets station was as dingy and cold as any other subway station in downtown Brooklyn. He had found that almost everyone who passed through there was as late as he was, with their heads ducked down, rushing down the platform with all sorts of papers and bags in their arms, speaking in hurried voices down their cell-phones as they dodged through the crowds of school kids and commuters. He’d love to watch them, stood comfortably against the wall by the platform, sipping on moderately cold coffee with a smirk on his lips. Never once did he think he’d become one of them.

While everyone was rushing by with ducked heads and important papers, throughout his time in Brooklyn, Jim had noticed how easy it was to ignore everyone else in the station. He’d always taken the time to drop loose change into the cups, hats (and once even a lap) of the homeless, had the courtesy to offer a good morning to those making their living by the platform, and had never understood how everyone could bustle past them

Today, Jim Halpert was starting to understand. Everything about Hoyt-Schermerhorn Streets station was rubbing him up the wrong way, from the loud buskers to the rowdy schoolboys. He was so wound up by the time he got to the edge of the platform that he almost didn’t notice the girl walking by him, clutching a map in her hands, desperately asking people for directions.

He didn’t think himself much of an expert, but Jim reckoned he was pretty good at remembering faces, even the bland and boring ones that passed through the station every day, and hers was certainly not a face he’d seen before.

It barely took him a second to take a step back and tap her on the shoulder, offering her his best smile. “Hey, uh, are you okay?”

She spun on her heel to face him, her wide, stressed features relaxing with relief. She sighed, her arms falling to her sides. “Oh thank God. Finally, someone with a heart.” She scowled over her shoulder, like she was directing her comment to anyone who’d ignored her. “Do you know how to get here?” She thrust her map into his hands, pointing at the red-circled ‘Pratt Institute’ with a shaking finger.

Jim raised his eyebrows, recognising the school from a couple of flyers he’d seen around. An art student? Fancy, he thought, returning the map to the mysterious girl before nodding. “Well, you’re in luck since I’m a subway expert.” She laughed, then, which made his heart flutter in his chest, but he just told himself he’d had too much caffeine. “All you have to do is hop on the train in about…” He glanced at his watch “1 minute, and catch it all the way to Clinton-Washington Avenues Station. Then it’s about an 8-minute walk to the famous Pratt Institute.”

“Thank you, thank you so much.” She beamed, throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him quickly before the train arrived. “Look, I don’t want to sound desperate but, do you think I could stick with you for a bit? In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not exactly familiar with all of this.”

“Oh, sure.” Jim smiled kindly, offering her his hand to greet her. “I’m Jim, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you.” She smiled, giving his hand a gentle shake. “I’m-”

She was interrupted by the familiar rumble of the train coming towards the station, its halt sounding with a loud screech that made her take her hand from Jim’s and cover her ears.

“You’ll get used to that” He laughed, taking her elbow to walk them to the doors. “We should hurry, though, get on there before all the good seats are taken.”

--

Jim let the girl take the only seat in their carriage, standing with a firm grip on the pole by the doors, his usual spot on a morning like that. They didn’t talk much, only giving each other a wide eyed glance when a strange man with hair parted down the middle and round glasses walked by them stiffly, muttering something about the earth needing a new plague.

Their time together was only short, since she was getting off much earlier than he was, and after 5 minutes of stealing occasional glances at her sketchbook and the barrette in her hair, the girl was gathering her things and looking up at him with a smile.

“Well, this is me.” She was practically beaming from ear to ear as she brushed past him, waiting for the doors to open. “It was really lovely to meet you, subway expert. Thanks for the help.”

Jim watched as she stepped onto the platform, waiting until she’d disappeared into the crowds of people before he turned around, soon enough to see a man rush to the doors with a small book in his hands, calling “‘Ey, miss, you forgot your uh…” The doors had shut before he could say another word, and the man turned to Jim, offering him the book.

“Give this to your friend when you see her again, will ya?”

He didn’t give him much time to answer, since he was plodding back down the carriage before Jim could inform him that he had no idea who that woman was. Wordlessly, tucked the book into his satchel, shaking his head with a smile as he wondered if the mysterious subway girl was the miracle he’d been looking for that morning.

Perhaps Hoyt-Schermerhorn Streets station wasn’t so bad after all.

Jim was disappointed that he didn’t see the girl on his way home.

When he managed to squeeze into the cramped carriage sometime in the late afternoon, he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that he didn’t see her, and didn’t fancy basing his happiness for his journey all on a chance encounter.

Between gathering coffee and memos all day, he’d barely had a chance to sneak a peek at the sketchbook that sat at the bottom of his bag, buried by important files and empty lunch packets. As it turned out, being an intern at a sports magazine didn’t offer plenty of time to sit down at his cramped cubicle to peek through someone else’s work.

Was that weird? He thought, shifting to his left to let someone by. He scrunched up his nose, pushing the thought from his mind as another person hurried past him to slip through the doors before they closed. No, it wouldn’t be. It wasn’t like he was reading her high school diary or anything. They were just a couple of sketches, nothing more, nothing less.

Two stops before his, almost all of Jim’s carriage cleared out, so he gladly took the seat closest to the doors. He enjoyed this part of his journey, taking out his earphones to listen to the lull of the carriage and the clatter of the train through the tunnels. From his seat, he could peer down to the end of the carriage, smiling kindly to anyone sat there, and when things got especially dull, he could pull faces at his reflection in the blacked-out window opposite. That evening, he used his time to retrieve his half-eaten, half-flattened sandwich and the girl’s sketchbook from the bottom of his satchel, and to enjoy a light snack while he tried to figure out the mystery girl from the morning.

Jim settled his bag between his thigh and the seat, balancing the small book on his lap while he tucked into his lunch. He opened up the book, chewing slowly as he read over her name again and again.

“Pam” He whispered to himself, just to see what it would be like to say her name. He felt a little bit silly, sitting alone in an almost empty carriage, whispering a strangers name to himself with his mouth half full. But she didn’t feel like a stranger. She was much kinder than any other stranger that Jim had met before, so much warmer, and brighter. If only all strangers were like the mysterious Pam, maybe Brooklyn would be a nicer place.

Jim stretched out his legs, finishing the corner of his sandwich before he turned the page. He flicked through each one carefully, admiring every shape, line, and technique before moving on to the next one. He knew almost nothing about art, but he was sure that he was 100% right when he thought Pam was fancy that morning.

As the train slowed to his stop, Jim took a crumpled receipt from his satchel, stuffing it in-between the pages to come back to later. When he stepped onto the platform, he almost felt glad that he hadn’t seen Pam on his way home, he might’ve never learnt her name, and he certainly wouldn’t have seen her sketches. And though the day felt quite bittersweet, Jim couldn’t help but smile as he made his way back to his apartment, and he hoped that someday soon, he’d see Pam again, even if it was in a dingy subway station.

--

It was gone 9 o’clock when Jim had the time to look through Pam’s book again. Freshly showered with clean pyjamas and a beer in his hand, he was more alert than he’d been on the train home. He settled down onto his couch, taking the old receipt from the middle of the book, opening up from where he’d left off. Each page told Jim new things about Pam, how observant she was, how much she loved detail and people and the world, and when he finally got to the end of the book, he felt downhearted since that was all he could learn about Pam without seeing her again.

He slouched back into the cushions with a disgruntled sigh, ready to grumble to himself about getting too attached to a girl he barely knew. Had he really thought it was a good idea? Looking back, Jim realised that the rational thing to do would’ve been to hand the book in somewhere, and let Pam find it herself. Then he could carry on with his day peacefully, with a clear head and a lighter bag.

To hell with rationality, he thought, tossing his head to the side. He was better than that, and besides, even if he had handed the book in, he still wouldn’t have stopped thinking about her. It was like the 5 minutes they’d spent together that morning had defined the rest of his future, and there was no way he could go on with his life without her in it. He took a minute, standing up to reason with himself. Was he being a little intense? Maybe, but wasn’t that what people wanted nowadays? Jim hadn’t watched many romcoms, but he figured from what he’d seen that people wanted big gestures and declarations. Though, looking through someone else’s work wouldn’t come off as romantic, and Jim thought it was actually more desperate than anything else.

He groaned, swiftly taking a swig of his beer. As he was setting it back down on the coffee table, something on the back cover of the book caught Jim’s eye. He squinted, picking it up to read the series of numbers in the corner.

A phone number? It had to be. Was it her number? No. Maybe it was a friend’s. or a code, or a password. Fate wasn’t that kind. Pretty girls didn’t just leave their phone numbers for guys like him.

But maybe Pam would.

Jim dug his hand into his pocket for his phone, fumbling round with it before he finally managed to click on the call icon. He stared blankly at his phone, which seemed to be staring back at him, daring him to type in those numbers, to make a fool of himself. He scoffed, muttering ‘I’ll show you” under his breath, before slowly punching in each number.

He raised his phone to his ear, almost losing his nerve as the steady ‘beep beep’ continued for longer than he would’ve liked. Just a couple of beeps later, a familiar voice rang in his ears.

“Hello?”

Oh God. That was her. Pam. Mystery Subway Girl. He had Pam’s phone number.

“Uh, hello?”

Say something, Halpert!

He managed to utter out a quick “Hi” before clearing his throat to try again. “Hey, uh, is this Pam?”

“Is that you, Jim? From this morning? How did you get my number?”

She remembered him. Jim Halpert couldn’t believe that a girl like that would remember him.

“Oh well it’s a funny story actually. Um, well maybe it’s not that funny. You left your sketchbook on the train and I picked it up for you. Lucky for you, I managed to find your number in the back.”

“That sounds a little cheesy doesn’t it” She laughed, and Jim remembered when she’d laughed on the platform, her eyes bright with humour. “Well, thank you. I’m so glad you found it and not some stranger.”

“It’s no problem.” Jim decided he would leave out the fact that it wasn’t actually him who found it, and that it was in fact a stranger, but it was his time to shine tonight, that other guy could wait.

“Hey, so I know this might sound a little forward but, how about we meet for a coffee tomorrow? That way you could give me back my stuff, and maybe we could chat a little. It’s not everyday I meet a guy as nice as you.”

Jim couldn’t help but grin, a warmth spreading through his chest. “Of course, definitely. How’s nine thirty?”

“I’ll try and be out of bed by then.” She laughed again and Jim grinned wider. “I’ll see you at Absolute Coffee tomorrow then, Jim.”

“It’s a date.” He teased before they said their goodbyes, Pam hanging up first.

Jim set his phone down on his table, shaking his head in disbelief. Tomorrow he’d see her again. And he couldn’t wish for it to come any sooner

Saturday morning brought sunshine to Brooklyn. Jim was thankful for that as he stood on the sidewalk, pleasantly warmed by the heat of the sun but cooled by the fresh spring air. With his hands in his coat pockets, he watched everyone rush by as he always did, hoping that someone in that crowd would be Pam, coming to him with bright eyes and the promise of something new. He hadn’t been counting, but he checked his watch for about the 5th time since he’d gotten there 10 minutes ago, growing more and more anxious as the hands crossed over each other. Granted, he was early, more than just a little early too, like a full 20 minutes earlier than he was meant to be. Embarrassingly early in the eyes of Jim Halpert.

He crossed his arms, leaning against the brick wall with a sigh. Pam had been on his mind last night, and he couldn’t help playing out their ‘date’ together as he slept, dreaming of lattes with two sugars and warm blueberry muffins and Pam’s bright, beautiful smile. Was it even a date? He had joked about it, and she had never corrected him, though he supposed he had only been half kidding. For all he knew, she could have a nice boyfriend sitting at home for her, waiting for her to return from a meeting with an acquaintance so they could go on a real date. And that guy would get more than a cup of coffee and a couple of kind smiles.

It went like this for a while. Check watch, overthink about Pam. Check watch, look at the street, overthink about Pam. His head was starting to hurt by the time it had finally reached nine thirty. When he looked up from his watch this time, Pam was crossing the street, wearing a thin scarf and coat, the cold reddening her cheeks. Of course she was right on time, and Jim felt even more embarrassed to have been so early.

“Hi.” She beamed up at him, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m not late, am I?”

“You’re just in time.” He smiled back at her, pulling open the door for them. “Shall we?”

Pam walked in first, and he followed behind, instantly comforted by the smell of fresh coffee and the sound of people and clattering. They settled down together after a few moments, Pam choosing their seats by the window, and they removed their coats, easing into a strange sense of comfort and familiarity.

Jim wrapped his hands around his coffee cup to warm them, and Pam did the same, gingerly taking a sip of her tea before squinting, raising an eyebrow at him over the rim of her mug. “Wasn’t there something you had to give me?”

He could see the smile in her eyes, and he laughed, reaching into his coat pockets for the little book in question. “Here.” He offered, watching her carefully. “You know, it might’ve been quicker for me to get hold of you if you’d put your last name in here. I could’ve guessed your e-mail, that would’ve been more romantic.”

“There’s no way that would be quicker. Would you really send some strange e-mail to another Pam Beesly? You know Jim, you shouldn’t send e-mails to people you don’t know, didn’t anyone ever tell you that?”

“Huh… I must’ve missed that important life lesson in the second grade…” He smirked, meeting her eyes with the same humour that she had in hers. Beesly, huh, he thought, smiling to himself as he took a sip of his coffee. It suited her, if a last name could suit anyone, but he couldn’t imagine her with a different one. ‘Pam Beesly’. He imagined saying it, much like he’d done on the train the day before.

“But hey,” She began, setting her mug down, “Enough with the dirt on me, how about you Mister Jim No-Last-Name.”

“It’s actually Mister Jim Halpert.” He said in a matter-of-fact tone, resting his elbows on the table to lean in to her closer. “Now that we’re properly introduced, can we finally have that sleepover? I hear that’s what all best friends do.”

“Oh of course” She grinned, leaning in like he was. “I can even braid your hair if you want.”

They laughed together, which made Jim all the more glad to have taken her sketchbook home with him, and made any worries that he’d had that morning disappear in the form of broad smiles and fond looks. It was so easy with Pam, much easier than it had been with anyone else. He couldn’t believe that life had been that kind to him. Something had to be wrong.

“So tell me more.” She smiled, taking a piece from the muffin they’d been sharing. “What do you do in Brooklyn?”

“Well I’m an intern at a sports magazine company. Right now, my pay’s probably just above minimum wage and all I do is fetch things for other people, but I’m hoping they’ll let me write something soon.”

“Hey, that sounds cool. Better than some boring office job right?”

“Right.” He chuckled warmly, pressing his still cold fingertips to the heat of the mug. “I couldn’t even imagine that.”

“You’d be like that guy we saw yesterday.” Pam gushed, and Jim watched in awe as she grew more enthusiastic. “Combed hair, short sleeved mustard shirts tucked nicely into some brown trousers. Oh my God, and those glasses!” She grinned, staring at him. “I could see it on you.”

Jim remembered the man from yesterday, and sat up comically in his seat, straight backed and stiff as he had been when he stormed past them. He tried to mimic the stern look on his face, and much to his delight, Pam loved it.

In fact, she loved it so much that she’d had to reach for a napkin to stifle her laughter.

“Beesly!” He whispered with a grin, leaning in as he had before. He peered over his shoulder, waiting for everyone to lose interest in Pam’s outburst and return to their daily business. But he didn’t mind that they were being stared at. He didn’t mind that people knew he was with her.

“Sorry, sorry.” She looked back up, red faced and trying to regain composure. “You are something else Jim.”

When she said that, staring at him with those shining green eyes, Jim thought he would die. And if he died there, in the middle of his favourite coffee shop with the girl of his dreams, he’d be happy. Because she was looking at him in a way that no one had ever looked at him before; there was so much admiration and hope in those eyes, and though he still saw flashes of fear, he hoped that it wouldn’t hold her back. He was scared too. Maybe they could be scared together.

The magic ended when her phone rang.

Pam was blushing again, but not like before. She looked… guilty all of a sudden, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Sorry, I have to take this.”

She was quick, grabbing her phone from her coat pocket before she headed to the back of the shop, round to where the bathrooms were.

Jim waited patiently, deciding to leave the last bit of muffin for her when she got back, and he finished his coffee, looking out the window just in time to see the sun disappearing behind the clouds. He sighed, any hopes he had of finally enjoying a sunny day being ruined by the usual Brooklyn smog, and he turned back around, hoping that Pam could lift his spirits.

She was walking back to their table a couple of minutes later, a sad smile tugging at her lips. Oh God, had he said something wrong? Did she have bad news? Jim’s heart was racing as she slid back into her seat, setting her phone down on the table.

“Hey, sorry about that. Listen, I um… I have to go.”

“Really? What’s up?” He hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but he was just getting to know her, the real her. Pam Beesly, fancy art student with the prettiest smile and the kindest heart.

“My… um.” She paused, looking down into her lap. “My boyfriend’s coming to pick me up. He uh, has plans for us later and he wants me home.”

Boyfriend. Those 9 letters were the sourest ones Pam had spoken to him. Of course she had a boyfriend. There was no way in hell that Pam Beesly hadn’t been snagged up by some great guy already.

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” He offered her his best smile, though it was getting harder and harder to be the cool new friend the longer she looked at him with those sad eyes. Those damned, beautiful eyes. It was obvious she didn’t want to go. She would’ve been out the door by now, or at least have her coat on, but she was sat, just as she had been before the call, except this time, there were less smiles.

“Really?” Finally, she was pulling her coat over her shoulders, retying her scarf with shaking hands. “This was really nice.” She glanced out the window, Jim wincing when he heard the honk of a car horn. “I’ll uh, I’ll give you a call!” She stood swiftly, pushing her chair back before leaning down to him, giving him a short and hasty hug. He breathed in, placing his hand on the small of her back. She smelled sweet like vanilla. But she was gone before he could indulge in the moment, and he smiled bitterly as he watched her from the window, opening the door of an unknown car, to no doubt greet the man of her dreams.

Jim groaned, tugging at the ends of his hair. It all haunted him suddenly, the coffee shop, and her lip gloss marks on the teacup, and the left-over muffin, and that other guy. He couldn’t help but wallow in the pathetic feeling that washed over him, and he slumped in his seat, pulling the mouthful of muffin towards him by the wrapper, popping it into his mouth, treating it like some sort of remedy.

Jim glared at the clouds, shoving his hands into his pockets, and kicking his legs out in front of him. Brooklyn was never sunny. Girls like Pam were never single. And guys like him were always friends, the kind of guys to bring sketchbooks back on a Saturday morning. The ones to joke around with. The ones to help out. But they were never, ever the ones that the girls came home to.



Jim Halpert was going to change that someday.

Rain. It was falling, heavily, blurring the streets of Brooklyn to smudges of grey. This rainfall was nothing new, something that came a few times every Spring, but more often during the Fall, and everyone was used to it. They all knew the hazy yellows and oranges belonged to cab lights, that they’d all be equally as miserable as each other, so it was best to stay away from jaywalking or bumping into anyone to avoid being sworn at (even more than usual). The greatest thing they’d learned was that there was no difference between a trusty umbrella, or a coat held over your head, because somehow, you’d still end up on your doorstep dripping wet.

Most importantly, the rain put Jim in the foulest of moods. And that grey Monday morning was no exception.

His Sunday had been bleak to say the least. He had spent it tucked up in bed, tired and on edge, repeating his usual friend zone ritual. But this time it was different. Never once had the thought of Pam and her boyfriend left his mind, never had he ever thought about someone so much in his whole life, or been haunted by someone as much as Pam. He’d started a game for himself by the afternoon, trying to guess anything he could about Pam’s boyfriend. Was he a ‘let’s split the bill tonight’ kind of guy or a ‘whoops I’ve accidentally left my wallet at home, could you get this one, babe?” kind of guy. That was another thing; did he have nicknames for her? Did he throw in a cringey ‘babe’ every now and then or did he prefer to stick with the classics like ‘honey’ or ‘sweetie’. Did he call her ’Beesly’ like he did, maybe he just liked to stick with ‘Pam.’ Maybe he even called her ‘Pammy’, though, Jim couldn’t imagine her liking that very much. It went on like that for hours.

He had never resented his past-self more when he was hunched over his kitchen counter the next morning, cup of coffee and a couple of aspirin by his side.

Jim was awake early that morning, early enough to take a set by his window before he had to get ready for work. As he was sat there, nursing his headache over caffeine, he wondered if Pam was awake yet, if she was looking out at the rain covered streets like he was, observing the people rush by under a sea of black umbrellas. Last night, when he was having a particularly tough argument with himself about whether Pam’s boyfriend was into hockey or basketball, she had called him, asking if they wanted to meet each other by her apartment in the morning to walk to the station together, and had proposed the idea that they made it a regular thing. He couldn’t have said yes any faster.

So, he kept thinking about that, and thought of getting to spend an extra 10 minutes with Pam in the morning was easing the pounding in his head. That and coffee number 2 tied him over until 7 o’clock, when he got up from his comfortable seat and dragged himself to the shower.

Once the second cup of coffee had been drunk, down to the very last drop, Jim was out of his front door, bundled up in his woollen scarf and cotton coat, umbrella shoved hastily into his satchel. He wasn’t one for Monday’s, and the dangerous combination of headache and bad mood weren’t making the day much easier. All he wanted to do was see Pam again, ask her how her Sunday was, maybe see if she wanted to come over for a little bit after he’d been to work. And he was surprised to see that walking down his street in a light blue raincoat.

“Pam?” He rushed down a few of the steps outside his apartment, waving his arm above his head. “Pam, is that you?”

She was stood a couple of feet away from him, holding a flimsy grey umbrella, wearing a brilliant smile on her face. “I just love the rain, don’t you?”

Jim rolled his eyes, flashing her a flat smile before he went down to her on the sidewalk, walking alongside her with his head down, staring at his feet. “Oh yeah, it’s just great.” He swapped his umbrella to his left hand so he could walk comfortably with Pam on his right. “So as nice as this surprise meeting is, wasn’t I supposed to be meeting you?”

“You were, but I was up early this morning and I decided to have a walk around. It’s actually quite nice, although I did almost get splashed by a car. But.” She shook her head. “I’m glad we bumped into each other, actually, I was about to rush back to my apartment to meet you.”

“You’re crazy, Beesly, walking around in weather like this for fun.”

She grinned again “Like I said, I love the rain.”

They walked in comfortable silence until they reached the end of his street, where Pam looked back over her shoulder. “Hey, we live quite close, how come you never said anything?”

He shrugged, figuring he could cut himself some slack for forgetting to mention it, since he was pretty busy decoding the guy of Pam’s dreams. “It uh, must’ve slipped my mind.”

Halfway to the station, when they were waiting to cross the street, the rain got heavier and the crossing got busier, which he didn’t mind since he got to stand closer to Pam, they were practically sharing umbrellas by that point, but he would’ve liked it if the man behind him took a step back; the droplets from his umbrella were falling down Jim’s back. She turned to him then, with furrowed brows and her lip between her teeth. “Jim, there’s something I have to tell you.”

“Go ahead Beesly, what secrets have you been keeping?”

She laughed, barely, looking down at the floor. “It’s a long story, and I don’t want to go into it now, but… We’re meeting Roy at the station today. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner it’s just…”

Roy? Roy. Pam’s infamous boyfriend who probably enjoyed looking around art galleries and who listened to ‘The Smiths’ because he just had to be that cultured to be with her. Roy: pain-in-the-ass sleep stealer who liked to laugh at Jim in his dreams for having everything he wanted. Great. His day was just getting better and better.

“Oh. That’s okay.” He gave her his best smile, giving her a gentle nudge. “Pam, you don’t have to apologise. He’s your boyfriend, I wont yell at you for seeing him.”

They finally crossed after a stream of impatient cab drivers, Pam busy texting one handed, Jim self-diagnosing himself with Roy-initis. Its symptoms were fatal, including lack of sleep and low self-esteem, things that never coupled well with headaches and rainy days. Unfortunately, the only known cure was a certain Pam Beesly, but the line at the drugstore was long, and Jim didn’t know when he’d get to the front.

Just around the corner from the station, Pam stopped him, gently holding onto his forearm, giving it a small squeeze. He hoped she might do it again when they were shoved up against each other on the train, though, he supposed Roy might be next to him instead, letting Pam take the last seat in the carriage, like the hero he was “Thank you for being so good about this, Jim. It really means a lot.”

The station was busy and bustling as usual, but an unfamiliar face was smiling at him from under the shelter, not him but at Pam, rather, and she rushed to him, leaving Jim behind. He had no umbrella, no coat held over his head, only wearing a simple brown jacket that hugged his broad shoulders. His large hand was splayed across Pam’s back, and he was holding a small leather bag in his other. Jim smirked to himself, never picturing Roy as a purse kind of guy, but he handed it to Pam before he could laugh about it.

“…you left it at my place last night.”

While Jim waited patiently, watching as Pam kept her head down, engaging in a hushed conversation with Roy, he had the time to look at her properly. Her trusty keds from Friday had been replaced by small black heels, her rolled up jeans swapped out with a grey pencil skirt. It should’ve been more obvious to him before, since she wasn’t struggling to hold about 5 folders in her arm. She was a lot less Fancy Art School Beesly, and much more Business Beesly.

“Oh.” Pam grinned when he stepped forward, pulling him closer by his hand. “Roy, this is Jim. Jim Halpert.”

Jim politely shook Roy’s hand that had finally managed to detach itself from Pam’s waist. Definitely a hockey fan, he thought, shifting his falling satchel back onto his shoulder.

“Hey man.” Roy gave him a firm clap on the back, which Jim had to smile through, reminding himself to ice it or something when he got home. “Pammy’s told me a lot about you.”

She had? He thought he might explode right there and then, but he didn’t fancy being scraped of the dingy walls of Hoyt Schermerhorn. And of course Roy had called her Pammy, he hadn’t missed the way Pam’s smile dropped a little, and he figured that he wasn’t so bad at the Roy guessing game. He rumbled through the usual formalities of introducing himself, telling Roy what he did for a living, which made him feel like a little paper boy compared to Roy’s manly warehouse job at some bigshot company.

But as he put his umbrella down, grimly glancing up at the sky, he had to remember that Pam wasn’t his, that no matter how good he was at figuring Roy out, he still wouldn’t be able to take his place. And his headache got worse. And the rain never stopped.

On his way down the steps of the station, dripping umbrella dangling from his right hand, he listened to the usual squeak of shoes against the floor and the buzz of rushed conversation. Behind him, Pam and Roy kept close, and Jim wished she was stepping down beside him instead, keeping a hold of the tips of his fingers so they wouldn’t lose each other.

By the time they were waiting at the platform, Pam and Roy had continued their hushed conversation from before. He wasn’t trying to listen in, but it was hard with the both of them right behind him, and while he kept trying to ignore it, he picked up on Pam’s pleas that went along the lines of ‘I don’t think this is a good idea’ and ‘what about what I want to do’.

He wanted to turn around and give Roy a piece of his mind, but he wasn’t that kind of guy, and who would he be to cause a scene like that in front of everyone. So he stayed facing forwards, head pounding harder, with his shoulders hunched, being the good friend that he was, 2002’s shoulder to cry on.

Thankfully, the carriage they’d chosen was fairly empty. Jim took his usual standing spot, Pam and Roy taking seats opposite each other. He watched them with narrowed eyes, Pam looking down at her hands in her lap while Roy answered his phone with an obnoxiously loud laugh.

Jim sighed, shaking his head. There was no way that guy listened to ‘The Smiths’, and he was definitely a culprit of leaving his wallet at home, more than once.

When they reached Pam’s stop, Jim stared pointedly at her, waiting for her to stand up and call Roy over. She met his eyes, shaking her head once and holding up a finger, telling him that they’d speak about it later. As the train set of again, Roy wandered up to the end of the carriage, and Pam lifted herself up onto her feet, taking a hold of the pole below Jim’s hand.

“It’s a long story Jim, I’ve told you this already.” She sighed, hugging her raincoat around herself.

“Beesly, I’ve got all the time in the world.” He glanced at his watch, flashing her a small smile. “But see if you can squeeze it into a 5-minute slot.”

Finally she laughed, twisting around to face him.“I’ve been struggling a little… financially, so Roy got me a job interview at his work. Which is great, y’know, he’s looking out for me. But I said I didn’t really want to do it. I told him I could sell some of my art at my gallery opening next week, but he didn’t seem to think that would do me any good. Can you believe that? It’s just… it took me so long to convince him to let me come to Pratt. What if I’m not being grateful enough?”

He frowned, looking over Pam’s head at Roy, who was now pacing the width of the carriage, laughing heartily with his hands shoved in his pockets. God, he’d been so wrong about him. There was no way in hell Pam could stay with a guy like that. Jim couldn’t let that happen.

“Pam. You shouldn’t need to worry about this. Being here, in Brooklyn, it’s all about doing what you want to do, even if that means being a little selfish sometimes. Now, I’m not saying you should hop off this train at the next stop to skip out on your interview, leaving Roy’s sorry ass behind, but, you shouldn’t write off that gallery just because Roy doesn’t think it’s a good idea. You can do anything you put your mind to, please don’t limit yourself”

She glanced over her shoulder nervously, leaning in closer to him. “You think so?

“I know so, you should get out there and show people your work. Kick the art world’s butt, show them what they’re missing. And I’ll be there, waving my ‘Team Pam’ flag for everyone to see.”

Her laugh rang in his ears again, the closest he could get to a quick fix for the cure of Roy-initis, and he couldn’t help but grin at her as he stared into her bright eyes. “I’d like for you to be there. To be my ‘Team Pam’ enthusiast, more than you know Jim.”

He might’ve laid his heart out on the line when she said that, right there with her boyfriend just feet away from them, in the middle of a grubby metro, but they’d just reached his stop, and people were starting to pile onto the train.

“I have to go. But Pam, tell me how your interview goes, and text me the info for your opening. I’d really love to be there.” He gave her hand a small squeeze, taking a leap of faith and pressing a quick peck to her lips as a group of commuters surrounded them.

He rushed onto the platform after that, almost slipping from the adrenaline rushing through him. Okay, it was no big declaration of love or anything, but he did a thing that ‘Best Friend Jim’ wouldn’t usually do. Soon, he’d be 2002’s most likely to get the girl. And Roy Anderson could suck it.

--

After a long day of staring intensely at his cell phone and printing articles into magazines, Jim was ready to get back on the train and go about his usual commute home. He flicked open his phone, still no message from Pam, but he still decided to drop her a message, asking her if she was home yet.

He sat down on his way home, as he always did, not bothering to put in his earphones this time, glancing over to his right at the pole in the middle of the carriage. He’d kissed Pam there. Maybe not by that exact pole, but the idea was still the same. It was no romantic kiss, she might not have thought of it like that, since it was only a peck and she had a boyfriend, but it was the closest he could get to kissing her without her feeling guilty for anything.

He felt like he’d made the right decision, and he slumped down in his seat, closing his eyes for just a moment to remember his day.

As the train stopped at his station, Jim stood up on legs like jelly, shuffling through the doors to the platform. He checked his phone again for Pam’s message, but still, there was nothing, and he furrowed his brows before tucking it back in his pocket, heading up the steps to the street.

The rain still hadn’t eased up, and Jim reached into his bag for an umbrella that wasn’t there, but was rather sitting quite comfortably on his seat on the train. “Shit.” He muttered, glancing up at the sky before pulling his coat tightly around him, deciding to make a run for it instead of trying to shelter himself with something that would ultimately do him no good.
There were a couple of near misses on his way to his apartment, he almost knocked someone off their bike, and very nearly got hit by a less than pleased cab driver. Now, he was really ready to get his day over and done with, but it seemed like life had other things in store for him, because when he reached his building, he saw Pam pacing around outside.

His heart dropped straight to his stomach.

“Jim?” She came towards him, shivering furiously. Her umbrella and coat were nowhere to be seen, and her blouse was clinging to her like a second skin.

“Pam? What are you doing here? Are you crazy?”

She ignored him, meeting his eyes with a ferocity that he’d never seen before. “What you said to me earlier today, on the train, Roy’s never said anything so kind to me before in the 5 years I’ve known him. Jim, you’ve only known me for 4 days, how can you possibly have so much faith in me?”

He opened his mouth, dumbfounded, trying to get out words that simply wouldn’t come to him.

“And what about that kiss? What the hell does that mean? I think you’re the crazy one Jim, I think you’re out of your damn mind.”

He was ready to defend himself then, taking a step closer to her. But she was back on track again, crossing her arms over her chest. “But, you… you make me feel special Jim. I can’t explain it. It sounds crazy but it’s like we’re connected, you and me, somehow. And so, I just need to know.”

She stepped towards him, hands slipping up through his wet hair and round to his neck, before her lips were on his, tender, seeking for something she hadn’t found yet. The hands around his neck sent water running down the back of his coat, but he didn’t mind this time because it felt like he was being coated in her and joy and all things bright and beautiful. His hands fell to her waist, holding her close to him for dear life, and as sweet as it had been, it had to end, and Pam was away from him again, fingers pressed to her lips.

All she did was nod, before she looked at him with big green eyes that swam with fear and excitement. “I, um, I have to go.”

She turned stiffly, running down the street, before she turned, waving her arms above her head. “Thursday night, 8’ o clock.” She called before she was off again, disappearing round the corner.

Jim, wet, cold, confused, buzzing, had never felt so overwhelmed before. What had just happened?

He shook his head, wide eyed as he stumbled up his apartment steps with jelly legs, not from tiredness, but from the thrill of kissing Pam Beesly.