Pam Beesly looked down at her phone again, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. It was the right address, or should be the location of the right address anyway. But this didn't look like the guitar shop that she was looking for. Or at least the one Pam thought she was looking for. She stood shivering in the bitter London cold, looking at the chipped red paint of the closed door to the building, wondering if she should go inside. The guitar shops that she'd been to back home in Scranton with her sister were bright and airy, with big glass windows and air conditioning and sales staff practically pulling unsuspecting buyers off of the street with their smiles and shiny hair. And this place was anything but. 

Pam pulled her red chunky knit scarf higher around her face to keep out the cold, and looked around. Every shop on Denmark Street seemed to be a guitar shop, or some sort of music shop. She could see into some of the windows on the second and third floors of the tall Dickensian looking buildings on the opposite side of the street, and there seemed to be even more guitar shops up there. She pulled her shoulders up around her ears as if that would help her stay warmer and looked down at her phone again. The message from Penny confirmed that this was the right address. She took a step backwards to take a photo of the building, but bumped into someone who was quickly walking down the street.

"Fucking watch it mate," said the gruff voice from the man that Pam had bumped in to. He carried on walking without so much as a glance back at Pam. 

"Sorry," Pam called quietly, not wanting to cause another confrontation. She repositioned her phone, looked around to make sure that she wasn't in anyone's way, and then took a picture to send to her sister. She sent the photo first, and then typed out a message. 

Penny, is this definitely the right place? It looks like an office or apartment building or something

Pam waited a few moments, staring at her phone, but the message didn't deliver. She chewed her lip and looked around again, before returning to the phone screen, where WhatsApp was still just showing one tick against the messages. She locked her phone screen, and slipped the device into her pocket, before reaching up to press the third button, labelled DM Guitars. The buzzer sounded, along with some screeching that made Pam wince slightly, and then the chipped red painted door popped open. She pushed the door open and looked at the dingy foyer in front of her. If it could be called a foyer. A small square of worn green carpet led on the left to yet another guitar shop, and straight ahead to a steep flight of stairs. Pam took a step forward, a stale and slightly damp smell hitting her as the door closed behind her. She glanced into the guitar shop to the left, with Vance Music printed on the window panel of the door, and then to the stairs with their green carpet in front of her. The white walls, with their bumpy paint, looked grimy and sticky to the touch, as did the black gloss painted bannister that was stuck to one of the walls. Pam made her way up the steep, narrow stairs slowly, careful not to touch the walls on either side of her. By the time she reached the third floor, she was panting slightly.

She looked around at the various flyers stuck to a pinboard on the wall. Brightly coloured pieces of paper offering banjo lessons, a Thursday knitting circle, a pretentious sounding book club and an improv class all jostled for attention. Pam looked at them all in turn, and before she knew what she was doing, found herself reaching for the phone number of the book club and tore off the small strip of paper. She stuffed it into her coat pocket and turned towards the slightly ajar door, its grimy looking white gloss paint matching the stairway that she'd just ascended. Rather than touch the tarnished doorknob, Pam pushed the door with her foot, causing a tinny sounding bell to ring above her, and tentatively stepped inside.  

The small shop seemed completely empty, other than for the hundreds of guitars that were stacked double high on shelves against every wall, all leaning the same way towards the wooden counter at the other end of the room. Pam looked around at the many, many Fenders, Gibsons, Ibanez's and the rest, overwhelmed by the number of guitars that were crowded into such a small space. She noticed one wooden chair in the corner as she squeezed past the small wooden island in the centre of the shop.  

"Hello?" she called out after a few moments standing in front of the till. Pam looked around self consciously as she shifted from foot to foot. She leaned over the wooden counter to try to peer into an open door that Pam assumed led to a back room. "Hello?" she tried again. 

"I'm here, I'm here, I'm here," a man called as he ran through the doorway.

"Uh, hi, um, I'm here about the C. F. Martin guitar?" Pam said. 

"Oh yesh," he said. "You must be Penny Farthing," he laughed.

"Penny Farthing?" Pam questioned. 

"You know? Like the coins? The bike?" he said, confused at how Pam wasn't understanding his joke. 

"Um, no?"

"Oh hey, you're American! Snap! That explains why you don't know what I'm talking about," he said excitedly. 

"Uh, yeah," Pam replied, pulling her purse higher up on her shoulder, hugging it almost as if it were a security blanket. 

"I'm from Pennsylvania, how about you?"

Pam hesitated, not really wanting to share personal details about herself with a total stranger. But she looked at his waiting face, with its simple smile plastered over it and felt herself giving in slightly. "Um, same actually," Pam said with a nod.

"Get out!" the man exclaimed. "Penny from Pennsylvania! Who'da thunk it?" 

"Oh no, I'm not Penny. That's my sister. I'm Pam," she said before she realised what she was saying. 

"Pamalamadingdong! Michael Scott," he shouted, holding his hand out. "The pleasure's all yours."

Pam cautiously went to shake his hand, and with good reason, because as she gripped his outstretched hand, an intense buzz shot through her. "Oww!" she yelped, pulling her hand back. 

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Michael said, pulling something out from his sleeve. "Forgot that was up there. Practising for my magic show later." He pulled a silk scarf from his pocket that kept on going. 

"So, uh, do you think I could get the guitar?" Pam asked as Michael continued pulling out the long line of silk scarves. He seemingly hadn't heard, or didn't want to stop his ‘show', so instead just gave her a huge smile with raised eyebrows and continued pulling. Pam pursed her lips and continued watching, with little choice, but the sound of the bell above the door dinging caused her to jump and turn round. 

A tall guy, wearing a black baseball cap and a black disposable mask shuffled in. He mumbled something and raised his hand in greeting to Michael, before he walked to the back wall and began looking at the guitars on the top shelf. 

"Hi Duncan," Michael called out, his eyes still trained on Pam, his smile almost Cheshire Cat like, as he carried on pulling the scarves out. 

"Hey," a quiet, transatlantic voice called back. 

Pam shrugged it off and turned back around to face Michael, hoping that this magic trick would be over soon. "Could I get the guitar?" she tried again. 

"Patience young one, have you must. Getting your guitar in a minute I will be," he said to her in a terrible Yoda voice. Finally he ran out of scarves and held out his hands out ‘jazz hand' style while he waited for an applause from Pam that didn't come. "Alright, fine," he huffed. "I'll be back in a second. 

"Thank you," Pam tightly smiled. As Michael shuffled off to the back room, Pam gripped the strap of her purse on her shoulder and turned around, looking at all the guitars on the shelves. She heard the sound of a guitar being plucked, and looked towards the back of the shop to see the man that had walked in moments ago, sitting down on the lone chair, strumming a guitar that was resting on his bent knee. He'd removed his mask and baseball cap, and Pam could only see the top of his head as he looked down at the instrument. She noticed how his messy hair fell about his forehead, while the hair behind his ears was curling out slightly. She watched him, slightly mesmerised, as he effortlessly fingered the strings, until he looked up, straight at her. 

Pam immediately turned around to face the counter, mortified that she'd been caught staring at some guy. She hugged her purse tighter as she listened to him playing, but remained perfectly still, looking straight ahead. He started to sing softly, and immediately Pam felt as if she were being hugged from behind, enveloped in honey, a warmth radiating through her. She looked up at the ceiling and pursed her lips as if trying not to let the smile sweep across her face that was so desperate to escape. She took a deep breath, and chanced a quick look back behind her, and saw the guy staring straight at her. He flashed her a small lopsided grin, one cheek tugging at the corner of his mouth. Pam immediately flushed pink, and the guy dropped his gaze back down to the floor as he continued playing and humming softly. 

"Alrighty, here we go," Michael said as he heaved the guitar onto the counter. "1954, C.F. Martin 00-18 Flat Top acoustic guitar, and in pretty good condition. So, cash or credit card?"  

"Uh, do you take American Express?" Pam asked as she looked through her purse. 

"Wish I could, really wish I could. But nope," Michael said sadly. 

"Mastercard?" she asked, holding out a credit card. 

"Ah, your flexible friend?" he laughed, taking the card from Pam, who just looked confused and so Michael began rambling at her. "The old advert? It was a huge hit. Oh, but maybe you weren't born yet, or maybe you were but not here yet. I mean not here like in the shop, but in London, Well let's see, what year is it now?" 

Pam knew Michael was talking, but she'd tuned out when he mentioned that she probably wasn't even alive yet. Instead, she was focusing on the sounds coming from behind her. She was desperate to turn around, to just stare at this complete stranger play his guitar and listen to his voice. But she held it together and pulled her focus back to Michael. He was still rambling about adverts from the 1990s, and she was sure she'd heard the word Bisto in there somewhere, but had no idea what it meant. Finally Pam was able to put in her PIN, before Michael made a whirring and beeping noise as the machine worked and then tore off the receipt. 

"There you go. You're now the proud owner of a very old guitar," Michael said proudly as he tucked the guitar into its case, closed and locked the lid, and held it out to Pam. 

"Thanks," she said with a small smile. She took the handle of the guitar case and pulled it off of the counter, surprised at the weight of the instrument that she'd have to somehow get home on the bus. She turned and headed to the door, her gaze still drawn to the man in the back corner of the shop. As she passed him, he looked up and gave her that same lopsided grin as he had done minutes before. She couldn't help but give him a shy smile of her own, her cheeks colouring pink. She swallowed down a lump in her throat and fumbled for the doorknob.

"Here, let me," the guy said, standing. He learned the guitar against his chair and walked over to grab the door for Pam, seemingly not worried about how dirty looking the brass knob was. 

"Thanks," she smiled, almost with a whisper. She tucked a loose curl behind her ear and ducked her head down slightly, biting the inside of her cheek to try to stop her smile growing wider. She looked up again, and locked eyes with the stranger. After a few moments, Pam finally tore her gaze away. "I should, um, get going," she said, immediately regretting her life choice not to live in this dingy shop, or sit and listen to him play 24/7 as if she had nothing else to do in her life. 

He gave her another smile as he pulled the door wider and leaned against it, watching her walk down the stairs, carefully balancing in the middle of the staircase and making sure not to touch the walls. Pam couldn't help herself as she paused and turned her head slightly to see the stranger still staring at her. She flushed pink again, smiled, and then turned to continue her journey out of the tall building.

--

Back out in the cold, Pam wasn't sure what to think. She turned back to face the red door and contemplated going back inside. She bit her lip, shifted the heavy guitar case to her other hand and held her left hand against the DM Guitars button on the buzzer. What would I even say to him? Pam thought to herself. Hey Dylan, wanna go get a drink? Was it Dylan? Deacon? Duncan! It was Duncan. Ok, so Duncan, wanna grab a drink? No. You don't ask guys out. Not that they ask you out either. But, he's obviously not going to say yes, and then that's just all kinds of embarrassing and do you really want that? Just, let's just leave it.  

"Excuse me," a woman said, as she pretty much pushed past Pam to reach the buzzer, startling Pam from her trance.

"Sorry," Pam mumbled as she took a step to the side. She watched the woman wait for the buzz and then push the heavy door open. Pam lunged forward to stop the door from closing, putting her foot in the way. She stared at the large brass knob in the centre of the door, before sighing and slowly pulling her foot back and allowing the door to close. She pursed her lips to the side and sniffed slightly before turning back to the street, shaking the stranger out of her mind. 

She looked right, as she'd been training herself to do over the last few weeks, and began to cross the road, before she stopped herself and looked the other way, realising it was a one way street. She let a black cab pass, before quickly skipping over the road to the other side. She passed Flat Iron, gazing into the darkly lit restaurant, before letting her eyes flit down to the ground to see the dirty looking sign for The Ally Cat Club and its wrought iron steps disappearing downwards into a black hole beneath the street. Finally, at the end of the road, Pam reached the glass and black metal door of Fernandez & Wells, the independent coffee shop she'd passed on the way down the street, and pushed it open with her shoulder, carefully sliding the guitar case in front of her. She approached the cash register and placed her order for a chai tea. She thanked the woman behind the till, and turned around to head towards the end of the counter, and ran smack into a body. She looked up slowly and realised it was a man. The same man that she'd met upstairs. The same man that she hadn't stopped thinking about since she'd heard him softly singing and strumming his guitar. She locked eyes with him beneath his baseball cap that was pulled down low. 

"Um, uh, sorry," she quietly said, quickly looking down at the floor. 

"No worries," came his muffled reply through his black mask.

Pam looked back up at him and thought she saw a smile. "I'll, um, I'll just," she pointed to the left as if to motion that she'd get out of his way.

"Thanks," he said, before walking up to the cash register.

After a few minutes, the guy came to stand next to Pam as he waited for his drink to be prepared. She held her breath slightly, feeling like her right arm was burning by being in such close proximity to him, even if the fabric of her jacket was barely touching his. They stood in silence, as Pam chewed the side of her bottom lip and wondered what to say to him. 

"So, what guitar did you get?" he asked, leaning his head slightly towards her. 

"Oh, um, it's a," Pam began, but was interrupted by her name being called. "Oh, uh, that's mine." She took a few steps to the counter and picked up the small white paper cup with its black plastic lid. She quickly put it down again when she realised it was so hot, and grabbed a brown cardboard sleeve. She put the guitar on the floor next to her so that she could slip the sleeve onto the cup, and carefully picked both back up. Just as she turned around, she suddenly wondered what she should do. The guy was clearly only making conversation while they waited for their drinks, and now she had hers, what should she do? Should she just smile and walk out of the coffee shop? Or should she go back over and tell him what guitar she'd bought like he'd asked? She took a deep breath and walked back over. 

"So what was it?" he asked, before Pam even had the chance to work out what she was going to do.

Pam was just about to answer, when she was interrupted again. 

"Jim!" the barista shouted, causing Pam to jump a little. "Flat white for Jim!" 

The guy Pam was talking to raised his eyebrows under his cap and stepped forward to claim the drink. He slipped a sleeve onto his cup and turned back towards Pam. "Sorry," he said as he returned to her, a slightly confused expression on her face. "Do you want to maybe walk and drink and you can tell me about your guitar?" he asked through his mask. 

Pam didn't need to be asked twice. "Absolutely I do," she replied with a bright smile.

"After you," he said, holding the heavy glass door open of the coffee shop open, letting the cold London air hit them. He motioned with his hand for Pam to walk through.

"Thanks," she said with a slight blush, trying to work out if she should lead with the guitar case on the way through the door, or if she should squeeze herself through first. 

"Here, let me," he said, holding his hand out to take the case. Pam looked down at the case and then up a little apprehensively. "I promise I'm not gonna steal it," he chuckled. 

Pam bit her lip and slowly lifted her arm so that he could take the case from her. "Thanks," she said with a small smile.

They started walking towards St Giles in the Fields as Pam took a sip of her drink. "So what is it?" he asked. 

"Uh, chai tea," Pam replied, looking at her cup.

"No," he laughed. "I meant the guitar."

"Oh," she giggled. "It's a C.F. Martin acoustic guitar. From the 50s."

"Oh wow, that's pretty impressive."

"It was the same one that my grandpa played. My sister tracked it down and we've bought it for my dad's birthday."

"Nice present," he said as his eyebrows disappeared somewhere underneath his cap.  

A pair of young girls walked past them and squealed at each other and began whispering. Pam turned around, unsure of what they were so excited about, but shrugged it off and tried to keep stride with her walking companion who seemed to not have noticed the girls. "It's for his 50th," she replied. "So do you play? Sorry, that's stupid, of course you play. You were playing in the store." Pam felt herself flushing slightly. "I mean, how long have you been playing?" 

"Since I was a kid. Wanna walk through the church yard?" he asked with a tilt of his head towards the rusty iron gate. 

"Sure," she smiled. They walked through the church yard in comfortable silence, keeping to the path and watching pigeons pecking at the winter worn grass and brown leaves that were scattered across it. Pam looked over and realised that between carrying his own coffee cup and her guitar case, Pam's new friend didn't have a free hand to pull his mask down so that he could take a sip. She also realised that she wasn't entirely sure of his name. She was fairly sure that in the guitar shop the owner had called him Duncan, but at the coffee shop, he picked up the coffee for ‘Jim'. Maybe he just got confused and picked up the wrong cup, Pam thought as she brought her cup to her lips. But who gets Jim and Duncan confused? They're not even remotely similar! "Want me to take that so you can drink?" she asked, pointing to the guitar case. 

He looked around as they walked to the deserted playground behind the church, and it seemed as though he was about to say yes, but then a youngish guy passed them. "I'll wait til we get there," he said, slightly tense. 

"Get where?" Pam asked, slightly confused. 

"There's a little community garden just down those steps," he said, pointing past the small basketball court where a couple of guys were having a one-on-one game. They walked further on, down the steps and to the right, until they reached the black iron gate with the rainbow sign that read ‘Welcome to the Phoenix Garden: A haven for wildlife and people'. "After you," he said, motioning for Pam to walk into the garden. He led her round the path that curved between the overflowing flower beds and full bushes, until he found a small wooden bench situated under a large tree. "Shall we?" he asked. 

Pam nodded and sat down on the bench, scooching to the side to make sure that there was enough space. He sat down next to her, placing the guitar at their feet and Pam put her purse next to it. He took a look around and slowly pulled his mask off, before taking a sip. "Not many people still wear those round here," she said, pointing to the mask that was now in his hand. "Still worried about Covid?" 

He looked down at the black paper mask in his hand. "Um yeah, something like that." He took another sip and then quickly changed the conversation. "So, uh, you're not from here? I mean, obviously, you've got an American accent," he said, a touch of embarrassment colouring his voice.

"Yeah, I'm from this little town in Pennsylvania. I've only been here for like," she thought for a second, "three weeks. I'm on this semester abroad thing."

"Oh yeah? What are you studying?" 

"I'm doing an MFA in Digital Arts at Pratt in New York, but I'm here for the Spring semester at Central Saint Martins," Pam said a little bashfully

"Very impressive," he smiled.

"So, uh, how about you? You don't really sound English." 

"That's because I'm not." He flashed her a brilliant smile from under his black baseball cap. "I was born in Philly, but we moved over here when I was about 10. So I guess I'm not really English, but not so American anymore either. Kinda makes for a weird accent," he laughed. 

"I like it," Pam said with a blush. 

"Well thanks," he said, a blush of his own matching Pam's. He was about to open his mouth to ask another question, but someone walked past them and he quickly ducked his head, pulling his baseball cap low over his eyes.

Pam was a little confused about why he seemed to be hiding from a total stranger, but decided not to push it. "So," she said slowly. "I, um, I didn't actually introduce myself earlier. I'm Beesly. Shit, I mean I'm Pam. Beesly. Pam Beesly," she said, holding her hand out, incredibly embarrassed that she felt so flustered around this guy that she couldn't even get her own name right. 

"Great to meet you Beesly," he said, shaking her hand.  

Pam felt a spark of electricity jolt between them as their palms touched and his fingers squeezed her hand slightly. They pulled apart and Pam almost forgot how to function as a person. "And, um, you are? I mean, what's your name?" 

He paused for a second and looked at Pam's earnest face. "I'm, um. It's Du-" He cut himself off and paused again, before taking a deep breath. "I'm Jim."

Pam caught his slight slip of Duncan, but he said his name was Jim, so she wasn't going to argue with him. "Nice to meet you too, Jim," she said, extending her hand out again. When they touched again, she felt that same spark fly through her. As they pulled apart, she tucked a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear. "So hanging out in guitar shops and getting coffee in the middle of the day, I'm guessing you're a student too?" 

"Ah, no actually," he smiled, and Pam swore she saw him breathe a slight sigh of relief. "I'm a musician. Well, I guess a singer and a musician. I play the guitar." 

"Oh wow, that's awesome," Pam beamed. "What kind of music?" 

"Um, kinda like Heartland Rock. You know, like Tom Petty? Springsteen? That kinda thing. Well, at least I try anyway," he blushed.

"Oh yeah, it's a little before my time, but I know that sort of stuff from my dad when I was growing up and stuff."

"Yeah that's exactly how I got into those guys. My dad was always playing that sorta stuff when we were growing up, and then I guess even more so when we moved here and he wanted to remember back home." 

"How come you guys moved here?"

"My dad's job. He's an architect and his firm wanted to open an office here, so we moved over. And we've been here for about 17 years now," Jim explained before taking the last sip of his coffee. 

"Think you'll ever go home?" Pam asked. 

"I'm kinda working on it at the moment."

"You said you were born in Philly right?" Pam asked, and Jim nodded. "I'm from Scranton." 

"No way," he smiled. "My grandma lived there, my dad's from there. He moved to Philly for college and met my mom and they settled down there." 

"So you want to go back to Philly huh?" she asked. 

"I was so young when I left, I don't really remember much to be honest. But I meant," he said as he happened to glance down at his watch. "Oh shit, I'm really late. I'm really sorry, I've got a meeting I've gotta go to." He stood up and looked down at Pam's fallen face.

"Oh, um, no worries," Pam replied, a little flustered and sad that their time together was coming to an end.  

"Um, are you free for dinner tonight? We can carry on chatting about home and stuff." 

"Yes," Pam replied without hesitating. 

"Alright, then it's a date," he smiled. 

-- 

Pam shifted uncomfortably on the faded yellow leatherette bench in the booth of Trattoria Mondello where Jim had said he'd meet her at 8pm. She tapped the screen of her phone where it lay on the table next to the blue paper placemat and looked at the time again for what felt like the three hundredth time in the last 10 minutes. She sighed and looked around at the busy restaurant, looking longingly at the laughing and loud patrons drinking Italian wines and sharing food. Her eyes skimmed over the beamed ceiling, the textured white walls and the authentic Italian paintings and ornaments that adorned them, before staring at the glass door waiting for it to open. Wondering if it would ever open and if the person walking through it would be looking for her.  

After alternating between looking at her phone and around at the bustling restaurant a further eight times, the door finally opened and Pam held her breath as she craned her neck out of the booth to see who it was. 

"Duncan!" a thick Scilician accent boomed from a small stout man wearing a black waistcoat. Pam watched him embrace the taller man with a hearty slap on the back before he gripped both his forearms, and then led him over to where she was sitting. "La bella signora," the shorter man announced as they reached Pam's booth.

"Hey," Jim breathed as he slid into the bench opposite Pam and pulled his black disposable mask off. "I'm so sorry I'm late, there was this whole... thing," he said, waving his hand in a circle, before shrugging off his jacket.

"No problem," Pam smiled, aware that her cheeks were flushing slightly pink.

"Have you been waiting long?" 

"Oh, no, like a few minutes." 

Jim glanced down at his watch. "Oh shit, I'm twenty minutes late. I really am sorry." 

"Don't even worry about it," Pam tried to wave him off. "This place is really cute. Very," she paused, looking around the small, bustling restaurant for the right word, "Italian."

"Yeah, I love it here. The bruschetta is amazing, and the Veal Milanese is like the best one I've ever had. Oh and the pizzas are awesome too. Sorry, I just really love Italian food." Pam smiled at him and picked up the green and white menu and started looking at the plastic covered pages. "Did you make it back to your place ok with the guitar?" 

"Oh yeah," she smiled. "Almost got it stuck in the doors of the bus, but it was all ok. How did your meeting go?" 

"Was really good. Was with a record company."

"Oh my god, that's amazing!" Pam exclaimed. "Like a real record company?" 

"Yeah," Jim chuckled.

"That's like so exciting!" she squealed, almost jumping out of her seat. "We've got to get something to toast with!" Pam immediately flapped her hands around and a waiter came over.

"Se signora, what can I get for you?" the tall man wearing a white apron around his waist asked. 

"Can we get a bottle of your best champagne please?" Pam blurted out, before realising that she was a student and Jim was a penniless musician. Fuck it, she thought. I'll just eat pasta for the rest of the week to make up for it.

"Absolutely," he said with a slight bow, before turning and leaving. He returned with a bottle of Moet et Chandon, and carefully poured it into two champagne flutes, before putting the bottle into an ice bucket.  

Pam held her glass up towards Jim. "To you and your record deal. Don't forget me when you're famous," she smiled. 

Jim grinned and clinked his glass against Pam's, before they both took a sip. "So tell me about the rest of your day," he said, leaning closer in as he put his glass down on the table. 

"Well, after I wrestled the guitar home, I just worked on one of my assignments and then came here," Pam replied breezily, not wanting to tell the truth of how she'd actually run home to try on every single item of clothing that she owned before jumping in the shower and then trying to style her hair thirty different ways before finding the right one. She flashed Jim a smile before picking up her menu. "So, what do you recommend?" she asked, peeking over the top of it.

"Definitely the bruschetta. And the calamari. Want to share?"

"Absolutely I do." She looked back at the menu, glancing from side to side, before closing it and putting it back down on the table. "I think I'm going to get a Napoletana." 

"Gross. Black olives are disgusting. And anchovies? Yugh," Jim said, pulling a face. 

"Shut up," Pam giggled. "What are you getting?" 

"Well, I respect my taste buds, so I'm actually going to get something tasty. Like the Veal Milanese," Jim said, with a joking snobbery to his voice.

"Ok, let me ask you this. Have you ever come here and not had the Veal Milanese?" Pam asked with her eyebrow raised.

"Um, yeah," Jim said slowly. "Of course I've had other food here. I told you, the pizza is great here." 

"In the last ten times you've come here?"

"Ok, I think it's time for us to order," he said, turning around to wave at a waiter. 

They placed their orders, before falling into easy conversation about anything and everything. Pam learned that Jim had two older brothers (whom he hated) and a younger sister (that he adored), he was allergic to red wine and that he was absolutely hopeless at any type of video game. In return, Pam told him about her love for musical theatre, how she didn't learn to ride a bike properly until she was 15 and how much she hated her student accommodation. As Jim was delving into one particularly funny story about a prank that had gone wrong on one of his brothers as their waited for their food, Pam noticed a few people around the restaurant staring at her. Or Jim. Or them. She wasn't quite sure at who, but it was definitely at their table. As they whispered to each other, Pam did her best to pull her focus back to Jim and to his story about lawn darts. She smiled at his animated movements, and put the other patrons out of her mind.

At least until they were midway through their main courses, when Pam's wondering eye fell upon a different table. This time, the people were nudging each other and whispering. And at that point, Pam felt she should say something. "I might be going crazy, but I think people are looking at us," she said, picking at the crust of her pizza.

Jim finished the mouthful of veal that he'd been chewing and swallowed. Without even glancing round at who Pam had thought was staring at them, he put down his fork and looked directly at Pam. "It's because they're staring at the most beautiful girl in this restaurant," he said completely seriously, but with a slight glint in his eye. 

Pam burst into laughter. "Oh my god, that was so cheesy," she giggled.

Jim let out a small laugh through his nose and hung his head, shaking it slightly. "I was trying to pay you a compliment!" he exclaimed. "But yeah, I guess it was kinda cheesy." 

"I like cheesy," she smiled at Jim. "But they are staring. Do I have food on my face or something?" 

"I mean, you do have some pizza sauce right here," he said, pointing to his cheek. 

"I do not!" she exclaimed as she frantically wiped at her face. 

"Nah, you don't," Jim laughed. "But that was funny." 

"I hate you," Pam tried to say with a straight face, before taking a bite of her pizza. 

"Sure you do," Jim smirked. 

Their banter carried on through the rest of their mains and into a shared dessert of tiramisu. Jokes and revelations of shared interests flowed easily between Jim and Pam, until suddenly her phone rang. "Oh," she said with a furrowed forehead. 

"What is it?" Jim asked, putting down his spoon.

"It's my mom. She never calls me. Something must be wrong. Do you mind if I get this?" 

"Of course not. I'll grab the bill and meet you outside?"

Pam nodded and smiled slightly. "Mom?" she said into the phone as she stood and made her way out of the restaurant. "Is everything ok?" She listened intently to her mother talking on the other end of the line, completely engrossed to the point that she didn't notice Jim wave meekly at the people who had been staring at him, or how he bent down awkwardly to take a selfie with another person who came rushing over to him. But as the door to the restaurant opened, drawing Pam's attention to Jim leaving it, she snapped her head up and waved to Jim. 

He waved back, and just as he was about to leave, one of the waiters came rushing out. "Duncan, your lady friend left her scarf," he shouted, holding up a red scarf. Jim took it with a smile and walked over to Pam. 

"Yeah I think I am," she said into the phone. She smiled at Jim as he stood in front of her holding her scarf. "I have to go. I will. Bye Mom." She hit the call end button and slipped her phone into her pocket. "Sorry about that." 

"Everything ok?" Jim asked as Pam took the scarf from him. 

"Thanks," she smiled, as she wrapped the scarf around her neck. "Yeah, my Meemaw had a fall but she's ok." 

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said earnestly as he looked down at Pam from underneath his cap. 

She smiled up at him and felt the air around them shift. She tried to swallow, but her whole mouth had gone dry. Jim was staring at her intently, as if he wanted to say something. But he didn't. Pam kept looking at him, urging him, willing him to say whatever it was that he was holding back. After 27 seconds, she finally couldn't take any more. "I'm cold," she said, tightening her scarf. "Want to walk me to my bus stop?" 

"Sure," Jim said, with a slightly sad smile. 

They walked along Goodge Street in silence for a minute or so, when suddenly, the back of their hands brushed. Pam felt the same spark that she had earlier that day, and again, when Jim's hand moved, she felt a sadness run through her. As they turned the corner onto Tottenham Court Road, their hands bumped again, but this time, feeling brave, Pam slipped her hand into Jim's. She looked up at him and watched him bite back his smile as he looked down at the ground. They carried on walking, Jim rubbing his thumb back and forth over Pam's knuckles, until Pam saw her bus stop and sighed. "That's me," she said pointing to the small shelter. 

Jim nodded solemnly, but as soon as they passed Costa Coffee, he looked left into the empty space of Whitfield Gardens, and without hesitating, pulled Pam into the dark. He spun her around, and before she could say a word, bent down to kiss her softly. His hands wrapped around her waist in her puffy jacket, and hers travelled up his chest to the back of his neck, gently playing with the hair that had escaped his baseball cap. "I've wanted to do that since I first saw you," he whispered as they finally pulled apart, both staring into each other's eyes. 

"Me too," she smiled back, illuminated by the lamppost light just above them. He grinned and bent down to kiss her, but she put her hand on his chest to stop him. "Jim," she said softly. He gave her a confused, and slightly worried, look. "Can you take your cap off?" He laughed, and removed his hat, before pulling Pam closer to him and kissing her with everything he had. 

They stayed lost in their kiss until they heard a man peeing against the tree they were standing next to. "I think that's our cue to leave," Jim chuckled as he put his cap back on. "Come on," he said with a nod of his head. 

They walked up to the bus stop and saw that Pam's bus was due in three minutes. "So you really wanted to kiss me since we were in that shop huh?" Pam teased. 

"Absolutely I did," he grinned back, leaning down to give her a quick peck on the cheek.

"Oh hey. Um, why do people keep calling you Duncan? There was that guy in the shop and those waiters tonight," she asked with a slight confused tone.

"Um, it's because," he glanced around and pulled his black cap down slightly further, "uh, it's my stage name." 

"Your stage name?" Pam asked with a slight surprised cough. 

"Um, yeah," Jim replied a little sheepishly.  

Pam was just about to ask why on earth he needed a stage name, but the number 73 pulled up. Instead she reached up to give him a quick kiss and thanked him for the meal. "I had a great time tonight," she smiled as she stepped onto the bus.

"Me too," he beamed, reaching up for one last kiss, much to the annoyance of the person in the queue behind them. "I'll text you tomorrow."

Two minutes later, Pam was sitting, staring out of the window on the top deck of the bus, when suddenly her phone buzzed. She reached into her pocket and saw that there was a message from Jim. She couldn't hide the wide smile on her face as she read his text.

I couldn't wait.

The next two days whirled by in a blur of cute text messages, long dinners in secluded, dark restaurants, and an afternoon spent in the cinema. By the time Pam made it to class on Tuesday morning, she couldn't wipe the smile off her face.

"Hey," Pam breathlessly said as she took her seat next to her friend Kelly. She was a few minutes late for class, which was very unlike her but then again, she also wasn't the type to go for an hour's walk along the canal first thing in the morning. Jim had insisted on walking her to class as they sipped on hot drinks and Pam wasn't going to say no to that. After spending most of the weekend with him, she was not particularly looking forward to going to class and being apart from Jim, especially as he had to see some friends later that evening. But he'd promised her they could go for dinner the next day in this tiny little dive of a place he knew, so she giddily accepted and gave him a lingering kiss goodbye amid promises to call and message each other until their next date. 

She was happily pulling her laptop out of her bag when she realised Kelly hadn't acknowledged her presence. "I said hey," Pam repeated, looking at Kelly who was glued to her phone.

"Oh, hey," Kelly finally replied, still not taking her eyes off her screen. Pam rolled her eyes and fished around in her bag for her glasses. "Ewwww," Kelly screeched as quietly as she could, considering that the professor was talking.

"What?" Pam asked as she slipped her glasses on.

"Why would he go to such a gross place?" Kelly said to herself. 

Pam looked over at Kelly's screen and saw that she was looking at some Deuxmoi post. She rolled her eyes as she opened up her laptop, pulled up Google Docs, and began reading her notes from the previous class.

"Motherfu-" Kelly whisper-shrieked but was interrupted by the lecturer asking the class a question. 

"What?" Pam instinctively asked, before remembering that she didn't care about Kelly's gossip. Or whatever it was she was looking at.

"He's snogging someone!!" Kelly hissed, but Pam was already focused on what their lecturer was saying. "Omg the comments are saying she's a normie. How the hell did a normie pull him??" Kelly carried on jabbering to herself as Pam quickly typed down whatever the teacher was saying. "Pam, I said, can you believe that?" she said, elbowing Pam in her ribs.

"Ow! Kelly!" Pam glowered at Kelly. "What?" 

"Duncan Halpert! Look!" Kelly said, shoving her phone into Pam's face. 

As Pam scanned the photo in front of her, her stomach dropped, her mouth went dry and her pulse started racing. Her eyes darted from the top of Jim's head, down to where his eyes were closed, to the back of Pam's own head where his hand was cradling her. She skipped to the next photo and saw a similar sight, except this time, Jim's hand had dropped to her neck. The next photo, it was on her cheek. The next, back in her hair. Next, the same just a little higher. She scrolled until the photo pinged back on itself, signifying the end of the carousel. She stared at the photo, focusing on Jim's face. They weren't kissing anymore, but his forehead was resting on hers and he had a huge smile plastered on his face. 

Her eyes then darted to the small outline of a heart below the photos. 32.3k. Why had over thirty thousand people liked a picture of her and Jim kissing? Why were they even on a gossip page? "Wha-," Pam tried to speak but her throat was dry so she cleared it and tried again. "What are these photos?"

"Pam, are you kidding me? That's Duncan Halpert kissing some random girl. It's huge news!!" Kelly said in her quietest, but still most excited voice. She took in Pam's gobsmacked stare back at her. "You know, Duncan Halpert? Biggest singer in the world? Not to mention the hottest. And he's-," she carried on talking, oblivious to the fact Pam was no longer listening.

Instead, Pam was concentrating on the feeling that she'd lost her legs, that her stomach seemed to no longer exist, and that her head was spinning. Or was it the room? Either way, she felt dizzy and that she might fall over even though she was sitting down. She gripped the arm rests of the small wooden lecture chair and tried to make sense of everything. "I. How. Just," she mumbled to herself.

"You ok?" Kelly asked, nudging Pam in the ribs again. 

"I," Pam took a breath, not noticing the twinge that Kelly had caused in her side. She slammed her laptop closed, shoved it in her bag and went to stand up. "I've gotta go." She pushed past Kelly, tripping slightly over the bags on the floor. 

Kelly grabbed her arm, pulling Pam down. "Where are you going?" she hissed. 

"Is there a problem ladies?" the lecturer asked loudly from the front of the room. 

"Uh, no, no problem," Pam stammered, straightening up slightly. "Sorry, I have a family emergency," she lied as she hurried out of the row and headed to the door. 

-- 

Pam sat on a wall, banging her dangling feet against the red brick. She wasn't sure what to think anymore. Her thumb was tired from scrolling and her skin was sticky from the tears that had spilled down her cheeks as she found out more and more about Jim. Or Duncan. She wasn't even sure who he was anymore. 

A sold out European tour. Two platinum studio albums. Three number one singles. Countless magazine covers. And that was just in the last 18 months. Why wouldn't he tell her any of this? How had she not known all of this? He was clearly a big deal. 

And then it clicked. All the little dark hidden restaurants Jim/Duncan had taken her to. The way he always wore his baseball cap, even at dinner. Which seemed kinda rude now that she thought about it. The trip to the arthouse movie theater, which yesterday Pam had thought was so artsy and alternative and romantic, yet now she was realising was just a way for him to hide her away so no one would see them together. That really stung her. How could he already be embarrassed about her, they'd not even known each other for 72 hours.

The more she thought about it, the sicker Pam felt. Her cheeks felt like they were growing redder by the second. She touched her cold hands to her burning skin to try and cool herself down, but it didn't work. She peeled off her coat and sat in the cold London air in just her light sweater, wondering what to do next. Should she confront Jim/Duncan? Should she just block his number? Should she head back to class and speak to Kelly about it to find out more about Jim/Duncan? Don't be ridiculous, Pam thought to herself. Of all the options, that was definitely the worst one.

She looked down at her phone and found Jim/Duncan's number in her contacts list. Pam hovered her thumb over his entry, debating if she should call him or delete it. She took a deep breath and just before she made a movement, her phone started ringing. It was Jim. Or Duncan. Whatever his name was. Pam instinctively answered it. "Shit," she muttered to herself as she stared at the screen, but didn't bring it to her ear. 

"Hello?" came Jim's distant voice from the other end of the line. 

Pam panicked and quickly hit the red button. Her heart was beating so fast, her breaths shallow and quick. She looked down at her phone and it started to ring again. Jim. Well, Duncan. Again, she hit the red button, but this time, Pam turned the damn thing off. She threw her phone into her purse and felt sick. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe in as deeply as she could in an attempt to calm down. But it wasn't working.

She eased herself off of the wall, jumping onto the ground with a slight grunt, and grabbed her bag. Still taking measured breaths, Pam started to walk towards her bus stop, but then stopped in her tracks. She needed air, not the stuffy, smelly bus. She turned on the ball of her foot and started stomping in completely the opposite direction. The sight of the canal hit her and her stomach dropped again. The last thing she wanted to do was walk along the towpath where not an hour earlier, she and Jim had been canoodling their way along. She turned again and decided to walk the long way home. The really long way. 

She trudged down York Way, the smells of Nando's, the kebab shop and McDonald's hitting her in quick succession and making her feel even sicker. She held her purse tightly to her as she stood at the traffic lights, willing them to change to the green man faster. When eventually the signal changed, Pam stepped out into the road and weaved her way through the oncoming foot traffic from the other direction. She shuffled across the front of King's Cross station, dodging the fast walking business men, the lost tourists, and the beggars roaming about. She strode up Euston Road, doing her best not to think about Jim and instead gazed up at the architecture of St Pancras, the British Library and numerous faceless glass fronted buildings that lined the busy road. When she saw Euston station on the corner, Pam turned up Eversholt Street and plodded her way up to Camden. 

By the time that she reached Mornington Crescent, Pam was feeling a bit calmer. She walked up the high street and at The Old King's Head took a right into her street. She could see her building and her stomach tightened with the thought that in less than five minutes she'd be in the safety of her own room.

Madge and Lonnie were hanging out on the steps, smoking as usual. Pam offered them a half hearted smile as she walked past them and pushed on the heavy wooden door of the Halls of Residence. She prayed that she wouldn't bump into anyone as she walked up the vinyl tiled stairs to the second floor. She'd almost made it when she heard the unmistakable voice of Andy preceding him as usual. She quickly dug in her bag and pulled out her phone and pretended to be on a call. Andy eventually rounded the corner, his face falling when he saw Pam was otherwise occupied and instead tried to do a funny jump to try and block her way.

"Andy!!" Pam hissed and pointed to her phone. 

"Sorry," Andy said in a sing-song voice with a strange smile, before moving out of the way to let Pam carry on up the stairs. 

Pam kept her phone pressed to her ear until she finally reached her floor and then threw it back into her purse. She pulled the glass door open and it was like she'd been punched in the stomach. Sitting in front of her door with his head and elbows resting on his tented knees, was Jim.

Shit, Pam muttered to herself. She pulled her purse higher on her shoulder and held onto the straps tightly with both hands. She slowly walked towards her room not saying anything, but her footsteps on the black and white checkered floor alerted Jim to her presence. 

"Hey!" he smiled as he stood, stretching himself from his cocooned position. "I've been so worried about you. What's going on with your phone? It just keeps going to voicemail."

Pam took a deep breath, willing her voice not to be shaky. "How'd, uh," she coughed and tried again. "How'd you know where I live?" she asked. 

"I googled the halls for St Martins," he shrugged, "and then when I got here, this small blonde girl pointed me to your room." 

Pam rolled her eyes. Of course it was Angela that helped him, she thought. The only other person in the world apparently who doesn't know who Duncan Halpert is. 

"Well, um, you should call or text someone before you just turn up unannounced at their house," Pam said, not meeting his eyeline and conscious that her cheeks might be turning a deep shade of pink.

"Like I said," Jim laughed, "your phone kept going to voicemail. And last time I checked," he pulled his phone out and held up his messages screen to show Pam, "you haven't received any of my messages." He looked at the screen himself. "Nope. not delivered." He took in Pam nervously fidgeting with her necklace and still avoiding looking directly at him. "What's going on?" 

Pam didn't answer. Instead, she just opened up her purse and routed through it to look for her keys. Jim repeated himself and she just mumbled, "not here." 

"Huh?" he asked. 

"I said not here," she hissed, looking around and hoped that no one had noticed the two of them so far. The last thing she needed was ending up on another gossip site, mid break up. 

She opened the door and led Jim inside, quickly shoving clothes off of her desk chair, pushing papers into a pile and hoping Jim wouldn't notice the mess. She busied herself with her back to Jim, partly so she didn't have to look at him, partly because she didn't know how to say what she needed to say to him. As she rifled through her purse looking for nothing in particular, she felt Jim's hand on her arm, tugging her around to look at him. 

"Hey, what's going on?" he asked, breaking the silence that had filled the room. 

Even though Pam was now facing him, she still hadn't looked at Jim. She took a breath, and then finally looked up. "Why did you lie to me?" she asked quietly, trying to hold back her tears. 

Jim dropped his hand from her arm and went to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, he closed his mouth and let out his breath through his nose. His eyes darted all over the place as he tried to work out what to say. "I," he paused and tried again, "I didn't lie-"

"Yes you did!" Pam exploded, not letting him finish. "You let me believe you were some poor struggling musician, when in reality you're the biggest pop star on the fucking planet!"

"Woah, woah, woah," he said putting his hands up defensively, "I'm not a pop star!" 

"I don't fucking care what kind of music you play. How could you not tell me who you were?" she shouted back.

"Because I liked that you didn't know who I was," he said quietly, looking down at the ground. 

"What?" she asked hoarsely.

"You had no idea who I was. In the shop, when we were chatting in the garden, any of our dates," he explained as he fiddled with his fingernails. "It was amazing," he said, looking up slightly so that he could meet her eyeline. He was met with a look of confusion. "I never know who wants to get to know me because of me or because of my fame. But with you, I knew you had no idea who Duncan was, so I knew you just wanted to get to know me." 

Pam let out a laugh through her nose as she broke their eye contact and looked down at the ground. "You must think I'm a complete loser not knowing." She shook her head bitterly to herself. 

"Are you kidding me?" He took her hands in her. "I think you're incredible."

"Yeah right," she huffed with a roll of her eyes, trying to pull her hands out of his. "So incredible you want to hide me away." 

"What? What are you talking about?"

"You want to hide me away," she shrugged, looking up at him again. "You're clearly embarrassed to be seen with me." 

"I. What? I don't get it," he said earnestly. 

"The little dark restaurants. The cinema. Anywhere that people aren't. You obviously don't want people to see us together." 

"Is that really what you think?" he asked, and Pam shrugged with a small nod. "Beesly," he said, putting his hands on her upper arms, "I'm not embarrassed about you. I want to shout about you from the rooftops." 

"Then why don't you?" she shouted, pulling back from him and stretching out her arms in question. 

Jim looked up at the ceiling and ran his hand over his face. "Because it's not that easy," he groaned loudly. "Sorry," he sighed. "It's just. It's everyone. No one leaves me alone. I don't have any privacy. I can never just have a personal life. Anything I do is splashed all over the tabloids and the internet. Why do you think I wear this god damn mask and cap the whole time? I just want some privacy." He took a breath. "It's not you I'm embarrassed of, I promise. I just want to protect us. To protect you. I want whatever we are, to be between you and me. Not some tween that's upset she's never going to get to date me and get mad at you."

"Too late for that," Pam laughed, the hurt evident in her voice. Jim knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. "The way I found out who you really are?" 

"Please don't say it like that," he begged.

"Sorry," she sighed. "I just mean I found out about all ‘this'," she said waving her hands in front of him, "was because my friend Kelly was looking at pictures on Instagram and was mad you were ‘snogging some normie' as she so lovingly put it. And then I started reading all the comments on the pictures and wow, people really hate me already apparently." She wiped a tear away that had rolled down her cheek.

"Pam," he whispered, pulling her to his chest and wrapping his arms around her. "I'm so sorry," he said into her hair. 

She let herself be held for a moment, remembering how much she loved being in his embrace, even though she'd only grown accustomed to it over the last few days, but then wriggled out of Jim's arms. "You still lied to me though. Your name? The meeting with the record company? Just being a singer-songwriter? I can't even trust you now with why you said you were busy tonight. For all I know you're going to be performing with Beyonce, and not just seeing some friends," she fired at him.

"I haven't lied," he sighed. "I. Look, can we sit down?" he asked as he perched on the edge of Pam's bed and pulled on her hand so she sat down with him. "Ok, let's start with my name. I'm Jim to everyone I truly know. I've always been Duncan when I perform. It's my middle name. No one outside of my family and close friends calls me Jim. And that should tell you everything. I didn't want to be Duncan to you. I want you to know the real me." He looked at her with begging eyes. 

She nodded ever so slightly and placed her hand on top of his. "Thank you," she whispered.

He looked down at their hands and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles as he carried on talking. "And the meeting? Technically I didn't lie. It was with a record company, but all my meetings are. It just wasn't for some deal like I let you believe. So I truly am sorry. I just didn't want to get into me having a five-album deal so quickly, you know?"

Pam's eyes bugged slightly and then she swallowed. "Uh, yeah, sure." 

"And as much as you think I'm a, what was it you called me? A fucking pop star?" he laughed. "I really am just a singer. And I write songs. It's just me and my guitar. And then there's a band too, I guess," he added a little sheepishly. "But there's no dance routines or backing singers or sparkly outfits," he rushed out, making Pam laugh. "It's been a crazy two years I guess. I mean, it wasn't like overnight success or anything, I'd been paying in pubs and open mic nights for years and eventually got ‘discovered'," he said in air quotes. "And then it just kinda went crazy after that with the singles and TV appearances and the huge shows and interviews. At least over here. I'm not really sure anyone in the States knows who I am. But my management is working on that," he laughed, "which is why you wouldn't have heard of me." Pam watched him as he carried on pouring his heart out to her. "But it's been really hard too. Being away from my family and friends, and not knowing who to trust or anything. And just people staring or screaming at me everywhere I go. I just really try to not let the fame or success get to me. I just want to be as normal as I can." 

"I'm sorry," she said in a small voice.

"No, I'm sorry. I should have been honest from the start," he countered.

"I get why you weren't now. I guess it just all kind of blindsided me. I wasn't expecting the cute struggling singer I've just started dating to have the number one album in the charts. You know?" 

"You think I'm cute, huh?" he grinned, bending forward to kiss her.

"That's not what I said," she said against his mouth. 

"I think that's exactly what you said," he replied after they broke apart, lips still tingling. He went back in for another kiss, but Pam stopped him.

"So what are you doing tonight?" she asked, her hand still on his chest. "Just hanging out with friends?"

"Um," he paused, his face flushing red. "Technically yes." He took in Pam's skeptical face. "It's just those friends will be playing their instruments on stage with me."

Pam scooted back from him. "You're playing a concert? At what? Wembley?" she asked with a furrowed brow. 

"No, no. Pam it's not like that," he said, hanging his head. "It's this really small gig. Just tiny. But, I want you to come to it. And all my future ones. And I promise, from here on out, no more hiding things or leaving out parts, no more technicalities. Just the truth, ok?" 

Pam looked up at his earnest face and nodded. "Ok," she whispered. "But," she got a little closer to him, "can you wear the sparkly dress for me?" 

"Shut it you," he laughed, as he kissed her, pushing her backwards onto the bed.

Pam studied herself in the mirror and sighed. Again. She looked back at her reflection where charcoal skinny jeans, black knee high boots and a sparkly silver strappy top were staring back at her. Is this really what the girlfriend of a rockstar wears? she thought to herself. Her furrowed eyebrows gave way to a small smile and she quickly bit her bottom lip, shaking her head in disbelief as she thought about that statement. Girlfriend. Jim's girlfriend. Not that they'd really put a label on it. But she was, right? She had to be after what had happened that afternoon. The thought of what they'd done in her tiny dorm bed gave her tingles all over, but she had to snap herself out of that memory and get back to the very important matter at hand. 

She shrugged the strappy top off and pulled her jeans down and instead reached for a red mini dress that Kelly had bullied her into buying. It was a lot tighter and far more revealing than anything she would normally wear, but Kelly had insisted that Pam buy it. She'd finally relented and purchased the dress to shut Kelly up. But now the more Pam looked back at herself, the more she felt like a sausage in too tight a skin and quickly pulled it off, making a mental note to return the dress to the store the following week. Her eyes darted between the piles of clothes and a wave of despair hit her. Why am I so worried about what I look like? she screamed at herself as she let out a defeated sigh and sat on the edge of her bed between the clothes. Because I really like him, a small voice inside her head said back, making her blush and smile at no one. Her phone buzzed, interrupting her thoughts, and she glanced at the message that appeared. ‘Be there in 15' Jim's message read, causing Pam to smile. "Shit," she quickly muttered as she realised what the message meant - that Jim was almost there and she was currently practically naked. She pulled her original outfit back on and just prayed that it would be alright. She quickly applied her make up, fluffed her hair up, and just she was about to finish, Jim was calling her phone. "Hey," she grinned into the phone as she answered it.

"Hey," he said in his transatlantic twang, the smile in his voice evident. "I'm just about to pull up outside."

"I'll be down in a second," she replied as she tugged on one of her knee high boots. 

"Kay. See you."

"Bye," she breathed, before they both hung up.

After grabbing her jacket and purse, Pam pulled the door to her room shut and ran down the stairs. She'd assumed Jim would be in an Uber, but it suddenly occurred to her that he was more likely to be in a chauffeur driven car. Or maybe a limo. Would there be a police escort with them? Ok, get a grip, he's not the president, she scolded herself. She pulled the heavy front door open and peered outside, noticing the black Mercedes-Benz sedan that was just coming to a stop at the curb. Her phone in her hand buzzed with the word ‘here' and she quickly skipped down the stone steps and headed towards the car. As she approached it, the driver's door opened and a man in a suit got out and turned towards Pam. "Miss," he said with a nod of his head before he turning to open the back passenger door for her. She smiled her thanks at him and then slid into the car seat. 

"Hey," Pam said a little shyly as she settled herself.

"Hi," Jim grinned as he leaned over to kiss her. He cupped her cheek and felt Pam moan softly into the kiss. He smiled slightly to himself as he pulled away. "So, um," he cleared his throat as he tried to get a sentence out and not concentrate on how his lips were still tingling from having just touched Pam's. "Have you ever been to the 100 Club?" Pam shook her head so Jim continued. "It's this really cool little place on Oxford Street. Just like tiny," he said as he took her hand and laced his fingers through hers. "And, uh, like The Rolling Stones have played there. The Sex Pistols, The Clash, Metallica, Primal Scream. Just crazy big bands. It's insane that I get to play there tonight," he marvelled to himself. Pam watched as he continued to describe the venue and its history to her with stars in his eyes. "But it started as a jazz venue and jeez, Louis Armstrong performed there. Can you believe that? Louis Armstrong!" 

"It's awesome," Pam beamed at him, lost in both his excitement and the way he was stroking her knuckles with his thumb. "I can't wait to see you play."

"It really means a lot that you're here," he said sincerely. 

"Well, now I know who you are," she giggled, "I wouldn't miss it for the world." Pam's mind flashed back to earlier in the day when she was laying in Jim's arms, utterly sated, and turned to face him, asking if they could listen to his music. Jim had bashfully tried to brush her off, but she was insistent. She'd crawled over him naked to reach her phone and easily found him on Spotify. While Jim did his best to distract her with his mouth and hands, Pam concentrated on the task at hand. She'd hit play on the first song in the popular section and Jim's voice, accompanied by a guitar, began to float around them. 

"Ok that's enough of that," Jim had said barely 20 seconds into the song as he'd tried to grab the phone away from Pam, but she held it out of his reach.

"Shh," she'd hissed at him. "You're ruining it." She placed the phone down on the floor by her bed and then turned her back to Jim and wiggled back against him, pulling his arms around her in a spoon position. Pam closed her eyes as Jim held her tight, feeling completely enveloped by his voice, scent, and touch. He hummed along to his own song, the murmurs from his chest vibrating through Pam, making her feel so connected to the words he was singing.

As the car pulled into a dimly lit side street, Pam snapped herself back to the present. "I thought this place was on Oxford Street?" she asked, a little confused.

"Stage door," he explained simply.

"Oh right," she replied, feeling a little foolish for not having known that he obviously wasn't going to be walking through the main doors, where hundreds of screaming fans were already waiting for him. 

The car pulled up to the door and before Pam could reach for the door handle, the driver had jumped out of the car and opened her door for her. She thanked him and walked around the back of the car to where Jim was standing with his hand outstretched for her. "Let's go," he smiled. He led her up a couple of steps to where a security guard was holding an old black gloss painted door open for them, and then through a narrow hallway which rounded a corner and led them to a large dressing room. "Hey," Jim said to the three guys sitting on the couch in the dressing room. They looked up at him and nodded before turning their attention to Pam. "Guys, this is Pam. And this is Darryl, Kevin and Creed," he said, pointing to each of the men as he said their names. 

"Nice to meet you all," Pam said with a small raise of her hand.

"I thought your name was Sally?" Creed piped up.

"Sally?" Jim asked.

"Your sister."

"My sister is called Larissa and you've met her more times than I can even count," Jim replied. 

"Too much weed," Darryl said in a high pitched sing-songy voice to Kevin, who just laughed and held out his fist to Darryl for a bump. 

"Anyway," Jim said with a roll of his eyes. "Kev is on drums, Creed is bass guitar and Darryl is on the keyboards. They're my band." 

"The Zits," Kevin announced. 

"I'm sorry?" Pam said, clearly confused. 

"Nope, nope, nope," Jim jumped in, waving his hands.  

"Come on man," Kevin pleaded.

"No!" Jim shouted, "the band is not being called The Zits. End of." 

"You guys ready for sound check?" a guy dressed in black with a headset on asked as he walked into the dressing room, oblivious to the argument that was going on. 

"Yeah we're coming," Jim said on behalf of the group. The three others headed out of the door, mumbling about The Zits. "Wanna come come watch us?" he asked Pam.

"Can I do that?" she asked, a little shocked. 

"Of course," he laughed. "Come on," he said as he took her hand. He led Pam back into the hallway and through a door and out into the main venue space. She looked around at the small room with its slightly sticky dark wood floors, red walls covered in hundreds of black and white photographs of performers, and the huge yellow ‘100' numbers that sat at the back of the low stage. He gave Pam's hand a small squeeze and left her standing in the middle of the venue to hop up onto the stage where the rest of the guys were already warming up by playing random notes and beats and scales on their instruments. Jim picked up his acoustic guitar and adjusted the tuning pegs as he fingered the strings. "Ready boys?" he said into the microphone, and Pam heard his voice reverberate around the empty room. 

"One, two. One, two, three, four," Kevin said into his own microphone as he hit his drumsticks together. 

Jim started singing about driving down a country road and Pam was instantly absorbed in every word that came out of his mouth and every note that his fingers strummed. Without realising it, she slowly walked towards him, as if lost in a trance. As she aimlessly wandered, Jim's eyes never left her, and followed her all the way to where she ended up standing almost directly in front of him. From where he stood on the raised stage towering above her, Jim sang the song to Pam looking her directly in the eye, as if they were the only two people in the room. 

"Aren't they great?" a voice said to Pam, making her head whip around to see who'd said it. It turned out to be a petite girl with shaggy blonde hair wearing a grungy looking charcoal t-shirt, black jean shorts over a pair of fishnet tights, and heavy Doc Martins.

"Uh, yeah," Pam replied, not quite knowing who this other person was.

"I'm Stacy," she said as she took in Pam's confused face. "Kevin's girlfriend."  

"Uh..."

"The drummer?" 

"Oh yeah, sorry," Pam replied a little flustered. "I'm Pam." She held out her hand to Stacy to shake and debated if she should continue her introduction. "Jim's uh, Jim's..." she trailed off, not wanting to put a label on something that her and Jim hadn't yet fully discussed.

"Don't worry, I've heard all about you already," Stacy smiled warmly, making Pam blush a little. They stood next to each other, swaying slightly and bobbing their heads as Jim and the band played up on stage. "Wanna grab a drink?" she asked Pam.

"Oh, um, sure," Pam replied, a little unsure if she wanted to leave Jim playing up on the stage.

Stacy could sense Pam's unease. "The bar is just over there," Stacy assured her. "Don't worry, we're not going far." Pam smiled and followed her to the bar, where Stacy ordered them both a Long Island Iced Tea. They leaned with their elbows against the slightly sticky, bright red bar as they listened to Jim singing and the band playing. Stacy sang quietly to herself and Pam felt slightly envious that she didn't know Jim's music as well as this random stranger. Well, not stranger, Pam reasoned to herself. Stacy was Kevin's girlfriend. But more to the point, she wanted to know Jim's music inside out. She wanted to listen to it on the bus on her way to class. Have a lazy Sunday morning where he'd play her songs on his guitar while she painted. Go to sleep in his arms as he softly sang her to sleep. 

"That'll be £24," the barman said as he placed the drinks behind the women, making them turn around and breaking Pam from her Jim induced daydream. 

"Oh just stick it on Chumbo's tab," Stacy said as she picked up a glass and turned back around to the band.

"Chumbo?" Pam asked before taking a sip and wincing at the strong taste.

"It's some super old nickname of Kevin's," Stacy explained, "something to do with Jumbo or Dumbo. I think there's a hint of chubby in there. It's been so long, I can't really remember. But yeah, that's what the guys use as their code name. So don't tell anyone, kay?" she smiled. Pam mimed zipping up her lips and tossing away the key.

A minute or so later, the guys finished playing their song, put their instruments down, and hopped off the low stage. Darryl and Creed went back to their dressing room while Jim and Kevin walked over to the bar. Stacy ran towards Kevin, leaping into his arms, and they immediately started kissing. "You were amazing," Pam blushed as Jim approached her with a wide smile, completely oblivious to the make out session happening next to her.

"Ah that was nothing, just the sound check," Jim replied bashfully with a blush of his own. "We're gonna head back to the dressing room before it gets too crazy out here. Wanna come?"

Pam was about to gush yes, but she was interrupted by Stacy. "Nah, we're gonna hang here and get the best spot," she gasped as she came up for air.

"Oh, ok," Jim replied a little sadly. "Come backstage after we're finished?"

"Yes," Pam said as quickly as possible before Stacy could blurt out something else instead.

"Alright," he smiled and leant forward to give Pam a quick peck on the lips, before grabbing Kevin and pulling him away from Stacy.

"Break a leg," Pam said loudly, making Jim grin as he walked backwards away from her. They kept staring at each other until he eventually had to turn around and head through the door. 

"Ok, I'm gonna go pee before it gets crazy in here. Watch my drink," Stacy said as she handed Pam her drink.

"Sure," Pam replied as she took the drink in her free hand.

Standing on her own in the basically empty venue, Pam looked around and wondered what to do while she waited. But she didn't have to wait long. No sooner than she put both the cold drinks back on the bar and wiped her hands on her dark jeans, a crowd surged their way into the large room through the double doors at the front of the club. Most people, mainly women, headed straight to the stage to stand right in front of where Jim would be standing and singing, but a good number made their way towards the bar and towards Pam. Figuring that she'd want to get a good position for the show, Pam decided to head to the stage.

She weaved her way through the small crowd that had formed and tried to squeeze between two women that were standing almost in front of Jim's microphone. "Excuse me," Pam said quietly, but they didn't move. "Excuse me," she repeated a little louder.

"Yeah, no," one of the women said coolly as she turned her head slightly.

"Sorry, we just like need to stand here," the other replied.

"There's space over here if you want?" a third standing to the side chirped up.

"Uh, thanks," Pam said a little hesitantly. She really didn't want to be standing so far to the side of where Jim would be on stage, but it didn't seem like she was going to have much choice. Reluctantly, she moved to stand next to the last woman. 

"I haven't seen you before," the third woman said, "but you do look a little familiar. Where do I know you from?"

"Ummm.."

"Don't talk to her," the first woman snapped. "We don't need any more," she muttered to herself with a shake of her head.

"Ignore her," the third woman said to Pam with a roll of her eyes. "I'm Katy," she said with a wide smile. "That's Cathy," she said pointing to the second woman, who turned around and gave Pam a half hearted smile before turning back to the empty stage. "And that is Karen," she said of the initial woman who had been rude to Pam. "We're the Donuts." 

"The Donuts?" 

"Like Dunkin' Donuts? We're Duncan's Donuts," she giggled. 

"I don't..." Pam trailed off, incredibly confused. 

"We're his groupies," Karen snapped.

"Groupies?" Pam choked out, feeling the blood draining from her face. "So, you, um," she bit back the bile that was rising in her throat, "you, uh..." 

"We follow him everywhere. We go to all of his shows. We hang out with him whenever we can," Katy filled in for Pam. 

"And more," Cathy said with a smirk at Pam.

"More?" Pam almost whispered.

"Oh yeah, a lot more," Cathy grinned.

"So how long have you been into Dunky for?" Katy asked, rolling her eyes at Cathy.

"I'm sorry, Dunky?" 

"It's cute right? Just like Duncan. God he's so hot isn't he?" Katy gushed.

"Looks even hotter with his shirt off," Cathy interjected.

"Ugh he really does," Karen agreed, finally turning around to agree with the other women. "So, why haven't we seen you before? We know everyone who comes to Dunky's shows. Are you a new fan?" she asked Pam, looking down her nose at her.

"Um, yeah. I, uh," Pam wasn't sure what to say. Her thoughts earlier that her and Jim were in a relationship were rapidly falling away. How had she got it so wrong? She was just another girl that he was adding to his rota. She felt herself getting hotter and redder in the face. She needed to get out of the venue. She turned her back on the groupies and looked around, but a huge crowd had formed behind her. 

"Oh I know where I know you from!" Cathy chirped up, pulling Pam's focus back around. "You were in all those pictures snogging Dunky!" 

"You what?" Karen exploded with a vicious look on her face. 

"Oh. Em. Gee. You're SO lucky," Katy cooed. 

"Good kisser isn't he?" Cathy added. 

Pam felt like she was about to vomit. She just turned away from the three women and began pushing her way through the crowd, people joustling her shoulders as she passed them. Just as she reached the door and felt the cool air from the outside starting to hit her hot skin, she heard the MC shout into the microphone, "ladies and gentlemen, Mr Duncan Halpert." And then the crowd went wild.

By the time Pam reached her room, she could hardly breathe. She'd run out of The 100 Club and as far away from Oxford Street as she could, before getting an Uber half way up Tottenham Court Road when she thought her legs were going to collapse from under her. She'd planned on throwing herself on her bed and listening to Nirvana with her headphones at full volume to drown out any thoughts of Jim. However, she remembered what they had done in her bed not six hours earlier. So instead, she decided to strip her bed of the Jim-scented sheets and then put Nirvana on full blast until she couldn't think anymore.

What she didn't expect to find was her door open, with Kelly standing in front of her wardrobe, rifling through it, and pulling her clothes out. "What are you doing?" Pam gasped, out of breath and almost hiccuping through her tears.

"Looking for my black dre... Jesus what happened to you?" Kelly asked as she turned around, her eyes growing wide as she took in Pam. 

"I," Pam sighed heavily. She did not know how to even begin explaining that she'd gone on several dates and slept with one of the biggest musicians in the world, only to find out that he was just adding her to his roster of groupies. "I'm such an idiot," she wailed as she threw herself on her bed, only to be met with the lingering smell of Jim. She sat up and let her body slither to the floor where she hugged her knees to her chest and let her head hang down.

"Pam, this isn't like you," Kelly said in a concerned tone that was very unlike her. "What's going on?" She sat down on the floor next to Pam, leaning against the bed with her legs tucked under her, looking at her friend for an answer. 

Pam took a deep breath and lifted her head up to stare at the wall in front of her. "I," she paused again, looking for the right words. "I met this guy and slept with him and now I feel like just the biggest moron," she said in a small voice. 

"Oh is that it?" Kelly said, her normal tone having returned and accompanied with a roll of her eyes. "Babe, we've all been there. Just forget him and move onto the next one. There's plenty more fish in the sea."

"No Kel, it's not that. It's-," she let out a deep breath. "He's amazing and so funny and kind and I thought we had a real connection." 

"Didn't anyone ever teach you not to put out on the first date?" 

"It wasn't the first date!" Pam shrieked defensively.

"Alright, alright. Keep your knickers on," Kelly bit back. 

Pam took a deep breath and decided to tell Kelly the full story. "We met on Saturday afternoon and I guess we had our first date then. And then dinner that evening. And then we pretty much spent the whole of Sunday and Monday together. He walked me to class this morning, but then we kind of argued. And then made up," she said blushing slightly.

"Oh you banged it out, huh? Nice," Kelly grinned. 

Pam gave an eye roll and continued. "And I thought it was all kinda, you know, like a done deal that we were boyfriend and girlfriend after that." 

"So what happened?" Kelly asked, now fully invested in Pam's story.

Pam knew she was going to have to come clean about who she'd slept with and thought she was in a relationship with. "Ok, so don't freak out," she warned. 

"Ohmigod what happened?" Kelly excitedly repeated. "Did he do some weird sex thing? Did he try and stick it in your -" 

"Kelly!" Pam shrieked. "No, it was nothing like that. It's more about who he is." 

"Ok...so who is he?" 

"He's, um, he's called Jim."

"Jim? That sounds kinda like a stupid name."

Ignoring her, Pam continued. "But you'd know him as Duncan." She took a deep breath. "Duncan Halpert."

Kelly laughed. "Yeah, right," she guffawed. "You slept with Duncan Halpert? You didn't even know who he was this morning." She looked at Pam through her laughter. "So who did you really sleep with?" Pam just stared at her, and Kelly stared back, raising an eyebrow in question. "Wait, what? You slept with Duncan Halpert? What? How? Tell me everything right now," she shouted, scrambling into a seated position on her knees in front of Pam as if she were begging for the precious information.

"I don't know, I guess I'd never heard of him ‘til a few days ago," Pam began but was cut off by Kelly. 

"How do you not know who he is?" Kelly shrieked. "He's only the biggest and most famous person I can even think of!" 

"I don't know," Pam whined defensively. "He's only big in England and I've only been here a few weeks. But can we focus on what's important here please?" 

"Sorry, sorry. OK, so how did you even meet him?" 

"It was in this tiny little guitar shop. Remember I had to go pick up that guitar for my dad?" Pam asked and Kelly nodded. "Well, he was in there, I guess testing out some new guitars and he sang a little and stuff-"

"Oh my fucking god. You got a private performance from Duncan Halpert?" Kelly interrupted.

"Well, yeah, but that's not really the important thing here," Pam reminded her. 

"Oh yeah. Duh. Of course. You've seen his penis."

"Kelly!" 

"What? You have!" 

"Ok yes, but-" 

"What's it like? Is he huge? I bet he's enormous." 

"Yeah I'm not doing this," Pam said, as she started to get up." 

"Wait, wait. No. Ok, so tell me what happened," Kelly pleaded, pulling Pam back down to the floor. "So you met him, didn't know who he was, went on a bunch of dates. And it never came up that he has a platinum album?" 

"Yeah I guess not," Pam bitterly laughed through her nose. "After you showed me the picture of him kissing some girl, which was me by the way-" 

"Holy fucking shit!" Kelly screamed. "You were on Deuxmoi!" 

"Focus Kel!" Pam shouted above her friend's hysterics. "So yeah, after I saw those pictures, I confronted him and he told me everything. About who he was and his music and stuff. I guess he just let out the part that he has a ton of groupies and I was about to become one of them." She paused and let out a sigh. "How could I be so stupid?" 

"Because he's hot. And charming. And has the voice of an angel. And did I mention hot?" 

"All valid points," Pam tried to laugh, "and I fell for each and every one. He even had this whole bit about being called Jim and how no one ever calls him Jim." She rolled her eyes at the memory. 

"Huh?" 

"So he's called Duncan Halpert right?" Pam said and Kelly nodded. "Well apparently Duncan is his middle name and he uses it as a stage name. And the only people who call him Jim are his family and super close friends. I can't believe I lapped all that shit up." 

"Wow, I've read all about him and I've never seen anything about him being called Jim," Kelly replied in agreement.

"I can't believe I fell for it," Pam said, rolling her eyes. "Of course he's not really called Jim. Even those stupid groupies call themselves the Donuts." 

"The what?" Kelly laughed. 

"The Donuts. Like Dunkin' Donuts. Or Duncan's Donuts. I don't know. They call him Dunky to be cute. But anyway. Surely they'd know if he was really called Jim." 

"Right. So you think he was just adding you to the Donuts?" 

"He must have been," Pam replied flatly. "He's got three other girls. At least three. One was saying how good he looks with his shirt off. And how he's such a good kisser." She wiped away a tear that was rolling down her cheek.

"So what are you gonna do?" 

"Nothing," she shrugged. "I mean, do we need to break up if we weren't even dating?"

"I guess not. Just wait for him to call and ignore him?" Kelly suggested.

"Or even better," Pam said, taking out her phone from her pocket and tapping the screen a few times. "Block and delete him."

--

It had been a full twelve hours before Jim turned up at Pam's door. The knocking had started gently just after 8am, accompanied by a soft "Pam, are you in there?", but steadily built to a hard and insistent rapping against the door.  

Once it had finally subsided, Pam waited thirty minutes for the coast to be clear before opening the door and venturing to Kelly's room. Except it actually wasn't clear. Jim was sitting on the floor opposite her room, staring at the door. "You gotta stop doing this, Beesly," he said quietly, looking up at her. 

"Doing what?" she said nonchalantly, not meeting his eyeline.

He pushed his hands to the floor, stood and slowly walked over to her. "Running away. Turning your phone off. Not talking to me," he listed as he reached Pam, towering over her. "You can't just shut down. This isn't how a relationship works. You have to talk to the other person." 

Pam snorted laughter through her nose and bitterly shook her head. "Yeah, right," she muttered to herself.

"Excuse me?" Jim asked, not fully sure he'd just heard what he thought he did.

Pam looked up and then down the corridor that they were standing in and realised she didn't want to do this there. Without replying, she turned around, went back inside her room, and perched herself on the edge of her desk. Jim slowly followed her inside, closing the door behind him. "So do you want to tell me what's going on?" he asked, standing in front of her. 

"I don't know Duncan. I think everything has planned out just the way you like it, Duncan," she said sarcastically, emphasising his name each time.

"Why the fuck are you calling me Duncan? I told you, my name's Jim," he said, eyebrows furrowed.

"You sure about that? Seems like your ‘Donuts'," she said in air quotes, "seem to know you verrrrrry well. Don't they Dunky?"

"Ugh," he whined, looking up at the ceiling. He shook his head to himself. "Is this what this is about?" he asked, looking back at Pam. 

"Of course this is what ‘this' is about," she shouted, with her air quotes again. "I guess the other girls have just accepted it more easily. But I'm not going to," she said defiantly. 

"Accepted what? There's nothing to accept!" he shouted back at her.

"Can you just go," she said, turning her back on him. It wasn't a question.

"No," he replied, pulling her around to face him. "Can you please just tell me what the fuck is going on?"

"I'm not going to be one of your groupies," she said quietly, trying to straighten out her shoulders. 

"I don't want you to be a groupie," he replied, taking her hand in his, but she pulled it away. "I thought we were more than that?"

"Yeah, well," she sniffed. 

"Well what?" he pushed.

"I guess I'm just not cut out for your rock and roll lifestyle," she sniffed. "So I'll leave you to your groupies." 

"My groupies?" he asked, clearly confused. "I don't want those girls. I want you." 

"Yeah, right," she muttered to herself. 

"What does that mean?" he asked, clearly offended at her suggestion.

"Well, they seem to know what you look like with your shirt off. And how you kiss," she shot back.

"No, that's not what it loo-" he rushed out, but Pam cut him off.

"I think you should go." 

"Pam, please," he begged. "I can explain everything. Don't do this. I want us to be together." 

She stayed silent for a moment, looking anywhere but at Jim. "I can't," she finally whispered.

--

It had been two weeks since Pam had watched Jim walk away from her, wiping a single tear from his cheek. It had almost killed her to lose him, but she knew she didn't want to be in competition with those women. And the more she thought about it, the more she realised she really didn't know who he was.

So while it had been two weeks since she'd seen him in person, it had only been three days since Pam had last stalked Jim. Or Duncan. She still wasn't sure. She just couldn't help herself. She'd even created a fake Instagram account and followed him, as well as several of his ‘stan' accounts. And the official ‘Duncan's Donut's' page. She didn't want to look, but it was like a squished spider - she needed to peek to make sure that it was really dead under there. Except this spider wasn't dead. It was a gorgeous man who she thought she had been falling very quickly in love with. The same man that had his arms wrapped around two of the groupies in the photo that had been most recently posted on the Donuts' page.

When she'd seen that picture, Pam had burst into tears. The two women were cuddled in so closely to him, and he was grinning at the camera with his arms around their shoulders. The caption read ‘In our happy place'. It was at that point that Pam had decided to not only delete the fake account, but also Instagram itself. She didn't need to see these stupid pictures and she didn't need to know anything else about Duncan Halpert.

Except Kelly did want to know more and so had taken it on to become Pam's personal detective and relationship therapist. Not that Pam knew any of this. It had started off innocently enough with Kelly trawling through Duncan's Instagram page but after 45 minutes of scrolling, she realised she was in the pictures where he just didn't look hot anymore. He was much younger, perhaps in his late teens, and had more of a buzz cut going on. His ears were sticking out and he had some bad acne on his face. Kelly also recognised one of the girls that he had his arm around. It was the same girl from the latest post on the Duncan's Donuts page.

Feeling like she'd stumbled across something pivotal, Kelly took a screenshot for safe keeping, and then clicked on the tagged people. Cathy Simms was this girl's name and from the scruffy matching ties that the two of them were wearing, it was clear that they went to school together. So obviously the only sensible option was to stalk Cathy's page for more clues. All of the pictures were of her and Duncan and in almost each one of them, Cathy had her arms wrapped around Duncan, with this wide smile and maniacal look in her eye. He on the other hand had a slight grimace and Kelly noticed that he seemed to be doing everything he could to get away from her. His body would be leaning away from her, his hand not touching her body, his head bent away from her. Interesting, Kelly thought to herself. 

She spent a good hour going through the pictures, taking every possible detail she could from them. It seemed like Cathy thought they were in a relationship and had been for years. The way the captions read ‘always so much fun with this one' or ‘forever with my best friend'. Kelly gagged as she read them. She scrolled all the way to the bottom of Cathy's feed, and then back up to the top, noticing how sporadic the dates between the photos had become in recent years. Rather than the weekly photos Cathy had posted of the two of them when they were younger, by the time they reached their twenties, the photos had dwindled to months between them. Again, Kelly found this very interesting.

Once she had exhausted Cathy, Kelly moved onto the next Dount. Karen Filippelli. Private account. "Dammit," Kelly whispered to herself as she looked at the very stern face in the small circle staring back at her. 

She navigated back to Donuts' fan page and found the last one - Katy Moore. She's cute, Kelly thought to herself with her eyebrows raised, a nod of her head from side to side and a downturned mouth. Her page didn't seem as obsessive as Cathy's. There was more a mix of solo photos of Katy, her with other friends, food, and then a smattering of her with Duncan. There really wasn't too much to go on. Out of habit, Kelly pulled the page down, which refreshed it, and suddenly a pinkish circle appeared around Katy's smiling profile picture. Kelly hesitated for a second, but after she remembered she was using her finsta and Katy wouldn't know who she was if she looked at the story viewers, Kelly clicked it. A full screen video started playing of Duncan sitting on a chair, strumming his guitar and singing softly. Kelly clicked the volume all the way up and listened to the words he was singing:

I can't stop thinking ‘bout her
A piece of my heart is missing

She clicked back on the story and listened to the song again and again. It was on the 3rd listen that she noticed the words that Katy had written on top of the reel in the story - I WISH HE'D SING THIS ABOUT ME - which was accompanied by 3 sobbing face emojis. 

Interesting didn't even begin to cover this. Kelly scrabbled to her feet and ran to Pam's room, banging on the door relentlessly until Pam unlocked it. The door was barely ajar before Kelly pushed her way in, phone first.  "He's written a song about you," she screeched, waving her phone in Pam's face. "He's in love with you!"

"What? What are you talking about?" Pam asked in a much more hushed tone.

"Listen," Kelly demanded, cranking up the volume on her phone and holding the speaker end of the phone up to Pam's ear. She clicked the reel and Duncan's voice floated around them both.

"Please don't do this Kel," Pam said quietly, trying to hold back her tears.

"No, Pam. Don't cry. Look! He's singing about you!" She pressed play on the video and shoved it back into Pam's face again.

"Stop it! Just stop it!" Pam shouted, knocking the phone out of Kelly's hand. 

"Ohmigod why would you do that?" Kelly screamed as she scrabbled to pick her phone up off the floor, checking it for any cracks.

"Because I don't want to see him," Pam shot back.

"But he's in love with you!"

"Stop saying that!

"But he is!"

"How do you know that's about me, huh?" Pam shouted. "It could be anyone. It could be any one of them," she sobbed. "So just stop it ok?"

"Ok," Kelly finally relented. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok," Pam instinctively said, even though it definitely wasn't ok. She had her arms defensively wrapped around herself, and was looking down at the ground. "Do you mind?"

Kelly turned and left Pam's room, making the short walk back to her own bedroom. She threw herself on her bed and began to scroll Instagram again, forgetting that she was still on her finsta account. Before she realised that however, a reel of Duncan filled the screen. He was sitting on a drummer's stool, cradling his guitar with a sad look on his face. "So what's been the inspiration for your new song?" a voice off camera asked. "It's seems a little, uh-"

"Depressing?" Duncan added with a sad snort of laughter through his nose.

"For lack of a better word. Yes."

"Um, well, it's kinda personal," he began shyly, "but I recently lost someone. Someone who was incredibly important to me."

"Someone you maybe loved?" the voice asked.

"Maybe, yeah."

"Oh my fucking god," Kelly whispered to herself as she got herself up off her bed and back to Pam's room. She didn't knock this time. She simply tried the handle, and finding it unlocked, just barged into Pam's room. "It is about you!" she yelled at Pam.

"Kelly, I told you to stop," Pam sighed as she looked up from her desk where she was writing a paper.

"No, I know, and I was going to, but then I found this video." 

"I don't want to see it."

"Trust me, you do," Kelly pressed as she held her phone up for Pam. She let the video play, and once again Duncan was explaining how he'd recently lost someone.

"This doesn't prove anything. It might be about his grandma who died. Or someone he hasn't seen for a long time. Or-"

"You!" Kelly shouted.

"Kel, I can't do this anymore. Please stop," Pam pleaded.

"But look how miserable you are. And look how miserable he is." 

"I can't imagine he's that miserable with all his Donuts," Pam huffed sarcastically. 

"Oh shit, I didn't even tell you. So one of them I think is like his school friend," Kelly rushed out.

"What?" Pam asked, suddenly sitting up straighter.

"Yeah. And from the looks of it, she's totally obsessed with him. I went through her insta, and another one of them, and his, and there's literally nothing remotely romantic going on with any of these women. Like he looks scared in most of the pictures," Kelly explained. Once again, she shoved her phone into Pam's face, showing all the evidence that she'd found earlier.

"It doesn't change anything," Pam said. "He still lied."

"About which bit?" 

"Well his name for starters. The whole Jim thing"

"We don't know for definite he's not called Jim," Kelly reasoned. 

"The kissing," Pam shot back. "The groupie said he was a good kisser." 

"Did he say he didn't kiss her?"

"No, but-" Pam tried but Kelly cut her off.

"Becuase if it was the crazy one," Kelly said as she clicked to Cathy's profile, found the picture of a young Duncan and Cathy, and held it out to Pam, "I'd say maybe they kissed as teenagers."

"Well, another one said he looks good with his shirt off," Pam said defensively.

"Jesus Christ, even I know he does. Do you know how many shirtless photoshoots that man has done? You're being irrational."

"Irrational? Me?" Pam screeched.

"You're jumping to conclusions all over the shop. Did you even let him explain if he was with these women before you kicked him out? Or even knew them?

"Why are you defending him?"

"Because I want to see you not moping around everywhere. And from what you've said about him, I think you're in love with him. And he's clearly in love with you."

"Yeah, well," Pam paused. "Even if I wanted to call him, I deleted his number so I couldn't even call him. 

Kelly held out her phone one more time to Pam. "Well good news. Looks like he's got a gig tonight at The Roundhouse."

Pam had resisted at first, giving Kelly every excuse under the sun as to why she shouldn't go to Duncan's concert that evening.  And yet, she found herself walking up Chalk Farm Road to The Roundhouse, the cold night air wiping her hair around her as she tried to keep her coat closed. "How am I even going to get to talk to him?" Pam asked Kelly as they passed The Stables market on their left. 

"Let's not worry about that," Kelly shushed her.

"Yes, let's worry about that Kelly!" Pam shouted back. "You're dragging me here to torture me-"

"Not torture. I'm getting you back together with the love of your life," Kelly rushed out. 

"He's not the love of my life." 

"He might be. And you'll never know for sure if you don't go and talk to him."

Pam didn't have a response for Kelly, so she simply rolled her eyes and kept battling with the wind as they walked. Eventually, they made it to The Roundhouse and both women let out a groan when they saw the size of the queue of mostly women snaking its way around the curved walls of the huge brick building. They joined the back of the line and Pam tried not to listen to all the excited chatter coming from all around them. 

"Did you hear his new song? God, it's so sad."

"He looked ruined." 

"I wouldn't mind if he ruined me."

"Oh god, right? He's so fucking hot." 

"Whoever he's singing about doesn't deserve him. He needs to stay single forever." 

Pam looked down at the ground and bit her lip. "Just ignore them," Kelly whispered to her. 

"How can I ignore them when they're talking about me?" Pam hissed.

"To be fair, they're mostly talking about him," Kelly replied, and Pam shot her a warning look. "Ok, sorry. Wanna play a game?" she asked as she jiggled slightly in the cold to try and stay warm. 

"Sure." 

"Sexiest Man Alive?" Kelly asked as she took out her phone and started tapping it. 

"Ok" 

"2016. Looks like a thumb."

"The Rock. Make it harder," Pam deadpanned. 

"Fine. 1999. Likes hamsters." 

"Ohhh, whatshisname. Pretty Woman guy," Pam said as she clicked her fingers. "Richard Gere."

"Yesss. Ok. Next. Literally the sexiest man that has ever walked the earth. I know he wants me." 

"Idris Elba," Pam said with a roll of her eyes. "I said make them harder." 

"Ok, ok. Jeez. Super hot guy. Used to work in an ‘office'. Married to a British wom-" Kelly started but then interrupted herself, "oh look we're moving."  

They shuffled along until finally they reached the front of the queue and showed their tickets to the bored girl obnoxiously chewing gum at the door. "Now what?" 

"Now we go get a stiff drink and wait for lover boy to start singing," Kelly said as she led Pam into the huge round dark room where the support act was already playing. They made their way over to the bar at the back and Kelly ordered two gin and tonics.

"As great as this is," Pam said sarcastically as someone pushed her further into the bar as they tried to get the bartender's attention, "wasn't the point of this to try and talk to Duncan?" 

"Oh you won't be able to talk to Duncan," a familiar voice said. Pam turned to see Karen stepping up to the bar. "He's super strict with who gets to go backstage."

"I'm not doing this," Pam said to Kelly as she quickly turned and pushed her way out of the crowd around the bar, running slap bang into someone else she knew. Stacy.

"Oh my god, Pam!" Stacy shrieked as she bent forward to hug Pam. "What the fuck has been going on?"

"What do you mean?" Pam asked in her best nonchalant tone. 

"What do I mean?" Stacy laughed. "You disappeared and then dumped Jim-" 

"You mean Duncan," Pam interrupted.

Stacy gave her a puzzled look. "What are you talking about? You know his real name."

"I, um, I," Pam stammered as it hit her that maybe Jim had been telling the truth. 

"So what happened? He's been absolutely heartbroken. Just a real mess. Not eating. Not showering, which is super unpleasant. He's written the most heartbreaking song. About you."

"I knew it was about her!" Kelly shouted, feeling completely vindicated. Stacy turned to look at Kelly in question. The question being ‘who the fuck are you?'. "I'm Kelly, the best friend," Kelly announced, holding her hand out to Stacy to shake.

Stacy shook Kelly's hand as she introduced herself. "I'm Stacy, the drummer's girlfriend."

"Oh my god, can you get us backstage?" Kelly gushed as she eyed the AAA pass hanging around Stacy's neck. 

"Uh, well I can probably get Pam backstage," Stacy said, glancing sideways at Pam. "They're pretty tight on security and stuff."

"You have to go," Kelly said to Pam, practically pushing her forward. "Come on, this is the whole reason we came here." 

Pam took a deep breath. "I know, I know. It's just. I don't even know what to say to him."

"You say ‘I'm very sorry I thought you were sleeping with your groupies'," Kelly began, but was interrupted by Stacy's guffaw of laughter. 

"You thought Jim was sleeping with those girls?" 

"Well, kinda," Pam blushed. "I didn't have any reason not to think that when they made it sound like they were."

"Oh hun. If you're gonna be a rock star's girlfriend, you're gonna need much thicker skin than that. How do you think I cope with it?" Stacy asked. Pam and Kelly gave each other a sideways glance and tried to bite back their smirks. Ignoring them, she continued. "We've gotta be quick though," she said looking down at her watch. "They're on in like 5 minutes." 

"Come on, let's go get your man back," Kelly said triumphantly, grabbing Pam's hand and raising it in the air, as if she were Bender from The Breakfast Club. 

"Ok," Pam said with very little confidence as she pulled her hand back down. She was already feeling sick at the thought of what to say to Jim and how to even start with her apology to him. She followed closely behind Stacy, tightly holding Kelly's hand as she led them through the tight crowd. They stopped in front of the security and after Stacy flashed her badge, the big burley man stood aside and let them through. 

"Not you," the man gruffly said to Kelly as she tried to squeeze past him.  

Pam turned around looking for reassurance, to which Kelly gave her a nod and shooed her on. Pam stepped forward into the hallway and in the distance, she could see the top of Jim's head. She stood on tip toes, trying to get a better view of him, when the man who had been standing in the way suddenly moved. She now had a clear view of Jim with his arm around Karen's shoulder as the two of them smiled at a camera. She fell heavily onto her feet, and that sick feeling she'd suppressed earlier came racing back. She wanted to turn and run away from them, but her feet were stuck to the floor. She couldn't stop staring at them. 

The guy taking the photo gave Jim and Karen a thumbs up to signal that he had the shot. Jim immediately dropped his arm to his side, but Karen moved around to throw her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a hug. He had no choice but to lean into the awkward embrace, but as he did so, he noticed Pam staring at them. He was so shocked by her standing there, that he didn't realise that Karen was pulling him down to kiss her.

Pam felt winded as she watched the scene in front of her unfold. Somehow, her feet found the energy she needed, so she was finally able to turn and run out of the cramped hallway. Her heart was pounding and she swore she could feel it in her ears as she pushed past the people backstage in an attempt to escape. She faintly heard her name being shouted behind her as she ran, but there was no way in hell she was going to stop. 

She carried on pushing her way through the crowd as the lights dimmed around her and the screaming erupted. She fought her way out of the dark venue and ran down the stairs to the entrance. As she felt the cold air of Camden hit her, Pam let out a sob. She'd so wanted to believe Stacy, but she'd just seen Jim kiss one of his groupies. With her own eyes. How could you be so stupid? her brain screamed at her. She took a breath and listened to the muffled sound of Jim's voice and guitar bleeding out of the huge brick building and knew that she couldn't stay there. She started to walk away when suddenly, someone grabbed her hand and pulled her around.

"I told you, you're gonna have to grow a pair and realise these girls don't mean anything to him," Stacy said. 

"But I just saw him kissing her!" Pam shrieked as she motioned towards the building.

"No you didn't. You saw a very desperate woman taking any opportunity she can get to throw herself at her favourite celebrity. Did you see them kiss? No. Because Jim did what he always does and ducked out the way. So yes, maybe she collided with his cheek, or neck, or chest. But he most definitely wasn't kissing her," Stacy said sternly.

"But-"

"No but's. I've known Jim a long time. I've been around this band since they started. I've seen the girls who throw themselves at all of those guys. I've seen bras chucked on stage. I've read the thirsty comments they leave on any social media post of theirs. But let me tell you, not once has any of them acted on anything. Well, ok Creed has, but Creed is a law unto himself," Stacy explained so quickly she was almost out of breath. "But Jim. I've never seen him so much as look at these girls. He's one of the good guys. I can promise you that."

"So I'm being kind of stupid?" Pam asked bashfully.

"Really fucking stupid," Stacy laughed. She put her arm around Pam's shoulder. "Come on, let's go get your rockstar back." 

As they made their way back into the building and up the stairs, Pam's heart was beating at least twice as fast as it should have been. She took deep, shaky breaths as she tried to calm herself down, but the moment Stacy pulled the heavy doors open to the venue, the volume of the music suddenly increased and Pam thought she was about to black out. Even though they were at the very back of the dark crowded hall, Jim was all encompassing. The spotlight was trained on him as he strummed his guitar, his voice filling the huge space. Pam couldn't pull her eyes from him as he sang. The crowd sang along with him, swaying to the heartland rock beat and Pam could feel she was part of something special. She started pushing her way through the crowd to get closer to him. 

As the song began to wind down, the clapping and whooping increased. Pam couldn't help herself, she started to clap and felt the first tear roll down her cheek. She wiped it away between claps and took a deep breath to steady herself. The clapping slowed and that's when she realised that Jim was about to speak. She weaved closer to the stage, quietly apologising as she squeezed her way through the tightly pressed bodies, with Kelly and Stacy following her. 

"This, uh, this next one is something new I've been working on," Jim began and another round of cheering ensued. He paused until the hollering subsided, ran his hand through his hair, took a breath and then carried on, albeit a little shakily. "I've had a pretty rough couple of weeks lately. And um, I guess I haven't been able to sleep. I can't concentrate on anything. And weird stuff, like food, has no taste. It's awful, and it's something that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy," he explained to the silent and stunned crowd. "So, uh, I've done the only thing I really know how to do. I've written a new song." The crowd cheered and clapped, but slowed to let him finish. "This is Soulmate," he said as he started to strum his guitar. He took a step closer to the microphone and began to softly sing. 

Didn't think I'd ever feel like this
Like someone held my whole heart
Thought love was for everyone else
But now she's torn me apart

I can't stop thinking ‘bout her
A piece of my heart is missing

Pam couldn't breathe. She was transfixed, staring at Jim as he sang the words. The words that she couldn't deny were about her.

When's my baby gonna come back to me?
I need my soulmate more than I need my next breath
When it feels like the world is against me
I need her back in my arms
The only one that ever really knew me
The only one to make me whole again

"Come on," Stacy whispered to Pam, and tugged on her hand slightly so that she'd move and they started to weave their way through the crowd again.  

She was mine for while, and I
I finally knew what love was like
Now she's gone and I've fallen to pieces
It's like my world's gone on strike 

Pam let herself be pulled through the crowd until they were almost at the stage, her eyes never wavering from Jim singing his heart out. She noticed that they'd stopped moving and shifting her focus, Pam realised that they had made it to the front of the venue and she was now so close to Jim. She felt his music, his words, in her heart, coursing around her body, becoming part of her, and she needed to see him, to touch him, to apologise and stop all this hurt. She was about to turn to Stacy to ask to get her backstage as quickly as possible when Jim looked down and saw her. 

Everything stopped and it was just the two of them for a split second, one that felt like an eternity. They locked eyes, and Jim faltered on his strumming and stumbled on his words as he stared at Pam. 

I can't stop thinking ‘bout her
A piece of my heart is missing

"This way," Stacy whispered, pulling on Pam's hand again, causing her to break her eye contact with Jim. 

Pam looked back over her shoulder and could see Jim trying to find her again in the crowd, but there was nothing she could do as Stacy led her to the side of the stage. Stacy waved her badge at the burly security guard again, and once more, he let them through. "Quick, go," Stacy loudly whispered, pushing Pam up the stairs so that she was standing on the very edge of the stage. Pam stood there, completely in awe of the man singing his pained heart out about her.

When's my baby gonna come back to me?
I need my soulmate more than I need my next breath
When it feels like the world is against me
I need her back in my arms
The only one that ever really knew me
The only one to make me whole again

As Jim sang, Pam could see him searching the crowd below them to look for her. Feeling brave, and her heart absolutely beating out of her chest, Pam took a slight step forward so that she was more in Jim's peripheral vision. The slight movement caused him to look around and see her standing there, hands clenched together in front of her, tears streaming down her face.

"I'm sorry," she mouthed to him. He gave her a lopsided grin and shook his head as he carried on strumming. He motioned for her to come and join him on stage, but Pam vehemently shook her head. So he walked over to her and tugged on her hand, pulling her onto the stage with him.

When's my baby gonna come back to me?

He sang the rest of the song, only to her, not caring that there were 5,000 people watching them in stunned silence. 

I need my soulmate more than I need my next breath 

Pam stared into Jim's eyes as he sang, unable to tear her gaze away from him. She was vaguely aware out of the corner of her eye that people were staring up at them, but nothing could distract her from this moment. From the love in his eyes pouring into her soul. 

When it feels like the world is against me 

"I'm so sorry," she mouthed, looking up at him. He shook his head and stopped playing his guitar, and instead clapped his hand against the polished wood to keep the beat of the song. 

I need her back in my arms

"Pick me Duncan!" a voice from the crowd screamed, breaking the eerie silence. Jim and Pam both broke their trance to look at the crowd below and saw Cathy frantically waving her arms around, flanked by Karen with an angry scowl on her face and Katy looking absolutely mortified. Jim gave them a small, bashful smile before he turned his attention back to Pam. 

The only one that ever really knew me 

He pushed his guitar so that it was hanging upside down against his back and pulled Pam flush against him. He ducked his head down so that he could whisper the last line of the song against her lips.

The only one to make me whole again 

And as he kissed her with everything that he had, the crowd went wild.