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Story Notes:
I do rearrange some of the original story, but it all seems to work together.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Disclaimer: All the characters, settings, etc. are the property of NBC and the show's writers. The characters and settings don't belong to me--I just play with them and put them back when I'm done.  No copyright infringement is intended.

He felt her eyes resting upon him as he swayed gently back and forth to some Sting tune. In the most inconspicuous manner possible, so as not to arouse Karen’s suspicion, he briefly glanced above his dance partner’s shiny brunette hair.

Pam’s eyes met his and he immediately felt a jolt of electricity shiver through his spine. Karen muttered something about how wussy he was for being cold in this stuffy dance hall, but he barely noticed her ramblings. Those eyes seemed to sift through all of his defenses and bore directly into his soul. If he’d been a betting man, like Kevin, he’d have sworn that she knew his mind wasn’t on the girl he was dancing with. In that fleeting moment, when he’d finally decided to blink, her eyes shifted to the floor and the Pam Beesly that he knew headed back to the punchbowl, dejected.

His heart ached for her. This was never his intention. He never wanted to hurt her. Just wanted her to see what she was missing. Maybe he was a fool to think for a millisecond that she may be having second thoughts about saying no to him that fateful day in May. More than likely, she was just tired of being there–alone–and having nothing else to do than to watch her best friend dance with someone other than her.

"Hey," he broke the death-grip Karen had on his waist, "I’m parched. Want a drink?"

"No thanks," she smiled.

"K, I’ll just get one for myself. You sure you don’t want anything?"

"Maybe a corner of some cake. I’ll need a sugar buzz if I want to dance the night away!" she replied perkily. Then she busied herself tugging on the hem of her skirt, reapplying her lipstick and fiddling with the stray hairs that fell down from her hairclip.

There she stood, casually sipping on some champagne and looking around like a scared mouse who’d been backed into a corner. Her look softened when he caught her eye and she smiled one of her famous Beesly grins–the ones that made him melt from the ankles on up.

"So," he started nervously, not sure where to take the conversation. "When are we going to see some of those famous Beesly dance moves?"

She gave him some song-and-dance about pacing herself. His encouragement, however, did not have the desired effect

"I’m such a dorky dancer," she snorted, shaking her head in disbelief at the suggestion.

"I know. It’s very cute," he commented, then realized the grave mistake as Karen cleared her throat behind him. Not turning to face her, he just squeezed his eyes closed as tight as possible and prayed to any diety that would listen that he had not just hit on Pam in front of Karen.

When his eyes opened up, he was not met with Pam’s smile or anything nearly as pleasant as a small well-manicured hand slapped a tiny handprint across his cheek.

"Bastard," she sobbed, running for the door and wiping at her eyes.

Half-heartedly, he jogged after her. "Karen, come on."

"Don’t ‘come on’ me, Jim."

Jim bit back the urge to respond with a that’s-what-she-said retort. The grin that accompanied the thought, however, was enough to send Karen over the edge and she screeched and slammed the door behind her, her high heels clicking quickly across the parking lot.

Instead of running after her like a good boyfriend might, he sighed with resignation and headed back to a startled Pam. Her stubby unmanicured nails tucked a hair or two behind her ear, nervously, as she watched him walk back in her direction. His head bent down like a man rejected, but the half-smirk that tugged at the right side of his lips told another story.

"Aren’t you going to go after her?" Pam questioned.

Twenty-seven seconds passed before he finally summoned the courage to look her in the eyes to answer her. His thick brows furrowed in thought, "No. I think we’re done."

"Really," an all-too-excited Pam replied. She corrected herself and made a feeble attempt at somberness. "I mean, really?"

A small gesture, her gentle hand stroking his arm in sympathy, was making his heart break into a million pieces all over again. Where had he gone so terribly wrong? Wasn’t Karen supposed to help him in his transition of getting over Pam? Now he was letting her walk–well, run–away, just to head back into the arms of the woman who hurt him the most?

"I guess we just aren’t right for each other. Know what I mean?"

Pam’s lips crinkled into a squelched smile at this revelation. "All too much, I have to say."

They chuckled and began to make small talk, first about their poor choice in mates. Then they talked about how they missed each other’s friendship. And finally, he asked her the all important question.... "Would you care to dance?" Without a word, her hand slipped into his and they made their way to the dance floor.

The dance was much different than the one he’d just come back from. Instead of holding her at arm’s length like some junior highschool student at their first dance, he held her close against his chest, letting her silky curls tickle his nose. He groaned in satisfaction as she nestled against him like a contented kitten in a sunbeam.

Phyllis looked over at the happy couple and smiled inwardly. She was sure that by copying Pam’s wedding plan to the letter would finally push her to do what she should have done last May. It had been hell watching the angst between Jim and Pam since that night and she was glad that it was finally over. Now she could concentrate on her knitting again without interruption.

Roy watched from the distance as his former fiancé snuggled and giggled with the man she called her "best friend". A hint of angry jealousy washed over him–that was until he remembered that there was a foxy young vixen out in the parking lot that needed some comforting...and he was just the person to give it to her.



officefreak is the author of 3 other stories.
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