"So we haven't set a date or anything," she explained, "but I'm pretty sure we're going to try to have it sometime in the summer. Just because it's easier for people to work their schedules around the summer."
"Yeah," he said with a nod. His eyes stayed locked on the bottle in his hand and only a small part was still listening. "Definitely."
She frowned. "Do you think it would be weird if I asked you to be my matron of honor?"
Jim was caught off guard for a moment, "Don't you want to ask someone from back home or something?"
Pam cringed, "Honestly? I didn't have many girlfriends in high school and I don't have any sisters to ask and I don't think I'm allowed to ask my mother." She pouted her lips in a way that made his heart skip a beat. "Come on Jim, you've been like my best friend since my first day here."
He frowned thoughtfully. There was something to be said when a bride asked a man to be her matron of honor, but sadly Pam neglected to see this. "Well," Jim said pursing his lips. "If I'm the maid of honor it really limits my options when I sleep with all your bride's maids."
"Oh right," she agreed reluctantly. "Also Roy's ushers would have to share, I mean unless you were willing to take one of them on too."
Jim shrugged, "At this rate we should turn your wedding into an all around lovefest. Please tell me you aren't inviting Dwight."
She scrunched her face in horror. "At this rate I may have to with the circus you're planning."
Pam looked across the bar. "My order's up," she said slipping out of her chair to get her food.
Jim finally loosened a corner from the glass bottle and seemed content with that much progress. Thursday night drinks had grown increasingly awkward as her wedding plans progressed and his attraction towards her began to evolve into something dangerous.
She was back now, dropping a couple baskets and a handful of ketchup packets. Pam picked up a packet and began shaking the contents to one end.
"A hotdog?" Jim questioned.
"I haven't had one in forever," she countered. "Quiet you, I got you fries."
Jim pressed his lips together and pretended to zip them shut. He reached over for one of the condiment packages, narrowing his eyes as he read the label. It certainly wasn't Heinz, not even a nameless brand. No, Pam Beesley had scooped up a handful of Taco Bell reminiscent hot sauce packets.
Pam cringed at the watery consistency of her ketchup, and Jim tried to not die from holding back laughter. She noticed his distress. "What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing," Jim said holding up a cautionary hand. "Enjoy your hotdog."
She narrowed her eyes at him before taking a bite. There were about five different expressions to cross Pam's face in the short moments that followed. First of confusion, second slight disgust, third immediate terror of her mouth being on fire, fourth pain, and fifth amusement as Jim picked up a packet with a surprised albeit sarcastic, "This isn't ketchup at all!"
Pam fanned herself before finally speaking. "Wow." She took another bite. "It's not that bad when you expect it."
Jim shook his head, "That seems disgusting."
"Seriously it's good," she said offering him a bite. "Come on," she teased, "you know you want to."
Jim looked at the tainted hotdog, then to Pam, and then back to his fries. "No," he said simply.
Pam opened another packet and poured it into the corner of her basket, snatching a couple of Jim's fries to dip in. "You going to eat everything with hot sauce now?"
"Is that a challenge?" She asked raising a stubborn brow.
His lips were pressed into a tight lip grin. "I think you want it to be."
She fisted the rest of the hot sauce packets and placed them in his hand. "Every day at lunch next week, you bring in a new thing for me to try with hot sauce. And when we get bored with that we can just feed it to Dwight."
"You're on."
The challenge started harmlessly enough. Every morning Jim would slip a packet from his desk drawer and wave it tauntingly towards reception. Her first mystery entrée was a carrot stick, which blended quite well. Next were pretzels, which again received a positive response. On the third day however, Jim decided to be cruel, and a container of Pam's favorite mixed berries yogurt was placed on the block. This resulted in a rather permanent grimace, or at least a good five minute one, and drew to the conclusion that although spicy berries was terrible to the taste pallet, perhaps vanilla yogurt would have been a suitable companion. Thus the challenge ended, leaving Jim disappointed with his high hopes of Chocolate Cake Thursday and Hot Sauce Hot Sauce Friday.
It had however subdued Jim's impossible crush on Pam when he realized how much fun he could have with her on a purely platonic level. She was his best friend. The kind of person who'd play along with his jokes and step up the plate when the joke was on her. She had also come to the point when she could quickly catch onto his schemes. Which is why that Friday afternoon when he was slipping bills into the snack machine and immediately pressing for the change release, she knew he was up to something.
"I'm hoping you're not planning on hitting Dwight with a sock full of quarters," Pam said leaning against the machine. "Because although well deserved, you'll probably have assault charges to deal with."
Jim patted his pocket, which offered the music of jingling change. "I'm working on a project."
"And…" Pam encouraged. "Care to divulge?"
"I’m going to make Dwight hit himself, without ever laying a finger on him."
"You've peeked my curiosity," she said prying for more information.
"Well I was going to try to add weight to Dwight's phone so it just sort of…" Jim's hands danced with his words. "Smacked him in the head."
"Don't you think he'd be used to the weight by the time he brought the handset to his ear though?"
Jim grinned proudly. "I already thought of that," he said. "That's why I'm going to weigh the phone down, then let all the coins out so he goes to pick it up… bam!"
Pam shook her head. "Your talents are seriously wasted."
"The only problem is that quarters don't fit through the gap easily, and I forgot that change from the vending machines only come in quarters."
"Then make change through snacks," she suggested and took a fistful of quarters from his hand. She slipped in a few, "Look, gum is only thirty-five cents." Reaching into the change slot she presented him with a nickel.
"Don't you think it would be cheaper to just run out and made change for a dollar at the gas station or something?"
Pam rolled her eyes. "Vending machine food has a shelf life of like fifteen years. Consider this stocking up for a national disaster or something." She popped in another few quarters, "Ooo, Hoppers!"
With a drawer full of snack foods and a pocket full of nickels, Jim waited intently for Dwight to head off to the bathroom and dropped a few nickels into his handset. Picking up his own receiver he balanced out the weight and quickly placed Dwight's phone back onto its cradle.
Dwight sat back at his desk and immediately went back to making phone calls. Fifteen minutes later, Pam buzzed Dwight about somebody down at security inquiring for his presence. Jim dropped another few nickels into his phone.
By four o'clock, Jim had gone through nearly three dollars in nickels, and about twenty in vending machine snacks, some of which Pam munched on at reception. Dwight was growing suspicious of the sudden effort he had to put in answering his phone, and when Jim heard him grunt to lift it, the time had come to put his prank into action.
Dwight went off to what had to be his tenth bathroom break of the day, and despite the slight concern Jim felt at his coworker's bladder control; he quickly reached for his phone and dumped a waterfall of nickels into his top drawer. Dwight returned soon after and Jim gave Pam the thumbs up.
Reaching for her phone, Pam dialed Dwight's extension. He leaned over his desk and reached for his phone, preparing to lift with much strain and was only caught off guard when the handset flew off the cradle and straight into his face.
"Careful there with the heavy lifting, Buddy." Jim said shaking his head disapprovingly.
Dwight checked at his watch and realizing he was late for his appointment, headed towards HR.
Pam was busy in the kitchen making dinner, or at least as busy as one can be boiling water for pasta. Outside Roy was tossing a Frisbee to the neighbor's dog. He had started up a pretty quick friendship with Chris and his son Michael but that was to be expected. Roy could strike up a quick friendship with anybody if he wanted to.
He had always had that talent. In high school he had been the town hero, apparently being good at football was all you needed for the talent. The fact that he knew how to have a good time was the next characteristic that led to his glory. He was the life of every party and soon became a living legend amongst the Old Forge parts. It still surprised her that he'd ever take interest in her. They were on completely different ends of the social spectrum. While she tried to duck away from attention, he allowed it to flock towards him.
It was sophomore year of high school when their paths seemed to constantly cross. Her locker was right next to his and she often had to squeeze through a crowd to get to it. They also shared numerous classes and when one homeroom he asked her for help on Mackey's trig homework, she felt an irreversible smile creep across her lips. His soft eyes and muscular build were more than enough to make her heart flutter.
It caught her completely off guard when he waited for her at her locker one afternoon to ask her if she was going to the hockey game after school. She had shrugged her shoulders shyly, never taking her eyes from the locker dial. "Well if you did you should sit with me," he had requested.
Of course it hadn't turned out to be the picture perfect date she had anticipated. She had sat quietly by his side the whole evening while he cheered loudly and joked around with his brother. She felt so invisible that even he had forgotten she was there and when he came back to get her ten minutes after initially leaving the game, she could tell he felt terrible about it.
In fact that next weekend, when the carnival was in the parking lot of the Steamtown Mall he had practically begged her to come in order to make it up to her. That night he won her stuffed animal after stuffed animal and bought her all the funnel cakes and cotton candy she desired. And at the end of the night he gave her her first kiss beneath a chorus of fireworks.
She had fallen in love with him that night, and they had been together ever since. Suddenly her life was different. She was no longer Pam Beesley, the art student who always wore black and never made a sound. Now she was Pam, Roy's girlfriend, the other half of Old Forge's class of 97's Best Couple, and second runner up for Prom Queen.
She no longer existed without Roy, and part of that terrified. The part of her that told her that Roy wouldn't be around forever, the part of her that whispered in the back of her heart that Roy wasn't the one.
Pam frowned as she watched Roy tease the old golden retriever with the Frisbee before launching it across the yard. The water was boiling and the phone was ringing and suddenly Pam felt overwhelmed.
"Hello?" She said taking hold of the handset.
"Hey, Pam it's Carrie. I got your message about the wedding and I would love to be your matron of honor."
She had almost forgotten calling Carrie the morning after Jim refused her offer and now she couldn't picture anybody standing beside her on her wedding day except for him. "That's great," she said with the brightest voice she could muster. "Thanks."
"Well it's perfect isn't it?" Carrie continued. "You've really become like a sister to me and now you're becoming it."
"Yeah, perfect," she agreed.
"Have you set a date yet?"
She frowned. "Nope, not yet."
"Well keep me posted," she said cheerfully. "I'll make sure Roy gets his butt in gear!"
"Thanks," she said before hanging up the phone.
The water was still boiling and Roy was still outside being the perfect family man and the phone was still in her hand while her fingers dialed his number.
"Hello?"
Pam smirked, "I've decided something."
She could hear him release a breathy laugh before he spoke again. "And what was that."
"You need to get a girlfriend."
"And how would this benefit you?" He asked curiously.
"Well if you had a girlfriend then you two could get married and move down the street and we can do couple things together like play scrabble and charades," she explained. "Then we can have kids and they can be best friends or fall in love and we can stand on our porches and smile wistfully all 'Remember when…'"
Jim was laughing again. "You want me to get a girlfriend so you can have couple buddies?"
"Not just that," she reasoned. "This includes a happily ever after for you! Did I mention the kids? Little Jimmy Junior running up and down the street."
"That doesn't sound very safe," he teased.
"You know what I mean!"
"I don't know how easy it will be to find a girl with those expectations," he shrugged.
"It's for our future," she said with a smile. "For the 'Remember when…'s."
In all honesty though, she suddenly couldn’t picture her future without him.
