“2. Maintain perspective.”

Pam looked at the next rule on her list.

Perspective. The illusion of depth. Kind of like her relationship with Roy had been.

She didn’t have enough perspective when it came her relationship history. She’d been with Roy for so long, her entire adult life, that she had no idea he wasn’t what she needed. She had no idea that what she needed was someone who saw her for who she was. Someone who knew who she was.

She now knew that person was Jim.

Too late. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. She almost laughed at the irony. Talk about perspective, she thought.

She knew she was supposed to be thinking about horizon lines and vanishing points, but again her mind wandered.

***

For nearly three years, work seemed to fly by. For the first time since she started at Dunder Mifflin, she looked forward to going every day. It was just... more fun with Jim around.

Sure, there were days he wasn‘t there. He always called her when he’d call in sick, even though he was supposed to call Michael. Even when he sounded incredibly sick, he would always think up some clever prank to pull on Dwight, and she’d always call him at 5:05 to tell him how it went.

Over three years, together they had played 619 pranks on Dwight. Pam had eaten 726 Mixed Berry yogurts, Jim had 726 ham and cheese sandwiches. 700 of those they had eaten together. (She was so bored one day and staring at the back of his neck had made her start to wonder, so she took out the calendar and had estimated. )They had shared too many laughs to count. Pam had cried in front of him exactly twice. Once because she cut herself on a staple, and it hurt a lot more than it looked. The second time she had had a huge fight with Roy.

Both times Jim had made her feel better.

They were building an incredible friendship, one that she never realized would come crashing down into a million pieces.

It was the night of the Dundie Awards. Roy had taken off, bored with Michael’s show. Pam didn’t want him to go; as much as she hated the Dundie awards she felt a strong camaraderie with her work buddies. And the look on Michael’s face when she was leaving made her feel bad.

But he left anyway, and she returned. Jim was alone at a table, his usual amused look when watching Michael’s antics just looked kind of bored and a little depressed.

He saw Pam sit down and lit up. “Hey! I thought you left.”

“No, I decided to stay. I’ll just get a ride home with Angela.”

Jim watched her reach across the table and take a sip of his beer. Actually, she kind of took his beer. He didn’t seem to mind, he looked amused.

One of Jim’s beers and three cocktails later, she was feeling pretty good. After she and Jim had steered the awards ceremony back on course after some hecklers interfered, she was thrilled to be receiving the “Whitest Sneakers Award” from Michael.

“Pam Beesley, ladies and gentlemen!” Michael announced. For a minute she absolutely adored him. He had given her the “World’s Longest Engagement” award for two years and she was dreading a third. She bounded up to claim her award, and read it just to make sure she hadn’t heard him wrong.

She went through some thanks. “...Finally, I want to thank God, because God gave me this Dundie.” She was holding the Dundie in her left hand. She fanned out her fingers, eyeing her engagement ring. It suddenly seemed like a joke. The one time Roy wasn’t there, she wasn’t feeling ashamed and insignificant. She felt like she could do anything she wanted. “And I feel God in this Chili’s tonight.” She looked at Jim. He looked as proud as one can look after watching someone receive an award based on their tennis shoes.

She let out a triumphant yell, and everyone clapped. She hugged Michael and gave him a peck on the cheek. She really was thankful he had decided to spare her this year.

Then she ran up to Jim and hugged him. She wasn't sure if it was the booze or if it was that he just smelled so good or if she just plain wasn't thinking at all, but she planted a kiss right on his lips in front of everybody. She was fully aware she was doing it and she sat down before she could see his surprised reaction, thinking more about her Dundie in that moment than anything else.

Later, she and Jim were sitting alone outside Chili’s on a bench, waiting for Angela to pull her car around. Pam was a little dizzy and wanted to sit down. She was feeling a little sick, and was not looking forward to the hangover she knew she’d suffer tomorrow, but she hadn’t felt so elated in a long time.

“Did you say something to Michael?” she asked him.

“About what?”

“You know what I mean. About the Dundie.” Jim knew she hated getting that damn “Longest Engagement” award. He knew that was the real reason she hated going to the Dundies.

“Um... guilty,” he grinned.

“Ha! I knew it.” She smiled down at her shoes, unsure of what to say next.

“So, Whitest Sneakers, huh?” Jim said, taking the award and checking it out.

“Yup. That’s right, Tallest in the Office.”

Jim chuckled. “I know, right? I think Michael just gave up on me. That ‘Hottest in the Office’ had my name on it, and Ryan just swooped in there.”

Pam smiled. She took her Dundie back from him. She thought he was Hottest in the Office, but even in her drunken haze she felt she had already crossed enough lines tonight to tell him that.

Instead, she changed the subject. “I feel bad for writing that stuff about Michael on the bathroom wall.”

“No, you don’t,” Jim said. They shared a laugh.

Angela arrived and Jim helped Pam up off the bench, leading her to the car door. He was being so sweet, waiting with her, and helping her to the car. And talking to Michael about not embarrassing her this year. And... well, there were lots of things. She had wondered before, but she wondered again... maybe he did have a little crush on her.

She stopped a second, glancing at Angela in the car. Angela was paying more attention to checking all her mirrors than to anything else. Pam turned to Jim, suddenly wanting to know. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot,” Jim smiled. He stepped closer to her and waited.

Pam noticed one of those camera guys hiding in the bushes, filming their every move. Now wasn’t the time.

“I just wanted to say thanks.” For being you. For being Jim. For actually caring about me.

“It’s not really a question,” he laughed. “Okay. Let’s get you home, drunk.”

She smiled. He wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe she’d ask him some other time. When it was right.

She tried to come up with a reason she kissed him the entire ride home.

***

It was easy to look back on it now and know she should have asked him, then and there, ‘What is this thing going on between us?’

Hindsight is twenty twenty.