Jim walks across the parking lot with his head down, keys in one hand, and he doesn't see her till he's almost to his car. His steps falter almost imperceptibly when he looks up. Pam takes a deep breath and stays where she is, leaning against his car door with her arms folded. His interview was long but it's a nice day; she's been watching cars go by, watching Oscar pull up and walk inside on the other side of the parking lot, telling herself not to chicken out.

"Hey," she says, when he gets close enough.

"Hey," he says back, stopping in front of her.

"How'd it go?" she says. He shrugs.

"Same as ever," he says, and she nods, then tilts her head toward his hand.

"Those your keys?" she says, and he blinks and looks down at them.

"Um, yup," he says. Pam holds out her hand and raises her eyebrows, trying to act casual, trying to act like this is a normal thing. Like asking for his headphones or half his dessert at lunch. Her heart is racing a little, and he gives her a strange look, but then hands her the keys, fingers brushing her palm.

Pam pushes the unlock button while Jim walks around to the other side of the car. He slides into the passenger seat as she's tilting the rearview mirror down so she can see. She has to slide the seat all the way forward before she can reach the pedals. She can tell he's watching her, but she doesn't look over, just concentrates on starting the car, releasing the parking brake.

"So, um, did they tell you when it's gonna be on tv?" she asks as she pulls out of the parking space. "I forgot to ask." She didn't forget to ask. In a few months, probably, they said.

"Oh, yeah," he says. "This fall, I think."

"Cool," she says. "Ready for the paparazzi?" He laughs briefly.

"You know it."

She doesn't know where she's going, really. She just thought this would be easier if she were doing something. They were only a few blocks from work, so that's where she headed, but this definitely isn't where she wants to stop. As they drive by she glances up at the dark windows on the second floor. In some other universe they're in there working. Or not working, more likely.

Jim's looking at the same thing, and maybe it's because he's not watching her that she blurts it out.

"I'm not getting married," she says. She glances over just in time to see him turn toward her, then looks away again. She holds up her left hand, ring finger bare, without taking her eyes off the road. "See?"

She hears him inhale and she puts her hand down so she can put on the blinker.

"That's why I was at my mom's," she says. "Um, Roy moved out three weeks ago." Her voice is very even. "It's been... weird, I guess. I don't know."

"Pam," he says, sounding kind of strangled, and she shakes her head once, quickly.

"No, um," she says. "Let me-- I just wanted to.. um, tell you that I kind of lied too. When you told me... I mean, I did kind of think you had a crush on me. When I started. Because I kind of did, too." They're in a residential area now, rows of quiet houses with lawns and trees. She thinks they're kind of near his house, remembers driving to the barbecue all those months ago. "But, um, then it stopped being, like, this thing for my coworker and it was just ... you, you know?" She risks a glance over at him, then looks away quickly. She feels like maybe she's going to be sick.

"Anyway, um," she's losing the thread, running out of courage. "I just, uh, I just wanted to. Um. Tell you that." Her hands are all sweaty on the steering wheel.

"Can you stop the car?" he says, and she forgets not to look at him, he sounds so strange.

"Um, okay," she says. They're on a side street, trees casting leafy shadows on the asphalt, and she pulls onto the shoulder and cuts the engine. It's very quiet all of a sudden, quiet enough for her to hear the click of Jim's seatbelt as he unfastens it.

"Okay, wow," he says, shifting in his seat. "I kind of feel like I'm in high school."

She laughs, but it sounds brittle and nervous, and then she stops because Jim reaches out and unfastens her seat belt, too, and having to extricate her arm from the strap keeps her from thinking about how she feels like she might throw up.

"Hey," Jim says, and she looks at him and before she knows it she's laughing again, because this is so, so weird. That's how he kisses her, mid-laugh, and it cuts off in her throat, turns into a different noise entirely.

The nicest thing is how she keeps thinking she has to stop and then realizing she doesn't. Or, well. The second nicest thing.

She has to take a second to breathe when they do stop, and when she opens her eyes, Jim looks just about as dazed as she feels.

"... wow," he says, and she grins. Somehow her hands are on his chest, and his thumb is tracing patterns on her arm, just slipping under the sleeve of her t-shirt.

"Wow?" she says. "That's the best you can manage?"

"Well, further research might be required," he says. "If you want an in-depth assessment."

"Oh, really," Pam says. Their faces seem to be getting closer together.

"Yeah," he says, really softly, and then Jim, Jim-her-friend-from-work-Jim is kissing her again. Pam feels lightheaded in a way that's nothing but good.

"This is okay?" Jim asks when they stop again, looking kind of like he can't believe it. "This is good?" The sunlight in the car is all green from the trees, and she thinks she's maybe never smiled this much in her life.

"Yeah," Pam says. "This is good."