“Luunchtime?” he motions towards the break room, rubbing his stomach in that exaggerated way that makes him look like the host of some low-budget kid’s show.

“Yes.  Yes, I will make sure that our packaging department gets that message,” she’s saying and trying hard not to laugh as Andy kicks at the base of her chair.  She gives him the finger and he clutches at his chest like he’s just been shot.

“There - done,” she rolls her eyes, clicking the phone down.  “Happy?”

“Thank you muchly,” he jumps to his feet, following her towards the break room.
 

“So... I booked us a gig,” Andy raises his eyebrows at her as she sips on a SlimFast shake.

“Ohmygod, really?? Like, at the Montague Mountain??”

“Well, sort of…”

“What does sort of mean?”

“It means… the Steamtown Mall?”

“Well, now you have to let me do a Tiffany song.  That is like, the anthem of malls.”

“Maybe malls from 1984,” Jim laughs, pulling up a chair.

“Hey I liked Tiffany,” Pam nudges him.  “I thought she was the coolest dresser.”

“I just had the most brilliant idea of all time,” Kelly grabs onto Andy’s arm.  “We could do a whole, like, eighties mall theme!  With costumes and everything!”

“As long as I don’t have to wear my pants backwards,” Andy grins. 

“We should work on that after dinner tonight!”  Kelly claps her hands together.

“Sounds legendary,” Andy bumps his fist with hers because he knows how lame she thinks that is. 

“Don’t forget about your date,” Jim laughs, picking part of the crust from his sandwich.  “Ow!  What?”

Pam’s saying something to him with her eyes, but he doesn’t really seem to be getting it. 

“Who’s date?”

“Andy’s date.  What?”

“Andy has a date?”

“I told you guys, you really didn’t have to set me up…”

“She’s hot.”

“Jim.”

“What?  She is.  You’ll like her, man.”

“Score.”

“Oh, so now I’m the only one without a date?”

“Ryan’s not coming?”

“He has to… work,” she says, even though it’s only partially true.  “He said he might be able to get off though.  I should… I’ll go call him.”

“Ryan Howard’s office.”

“Hey Hunter, is he around?”

“Hey Kelly - I'll put you right through." 

The stupid on-hold music that she hates comes on and she starts wondering when the last time she got a manicure was.  Maybe she can convince Pam to go with, because Lord knows, Pam could use it more than anyone.

“Hey Kel, what’s up?”

“Um, do you think you could still make it down tonight?”

“I thought you said…”

“Forget what I said.  I’d really like it if you could come.”

There’s a pause on his end and she can hear him flipping through pages of something.

“No, it’s not our anniversary, moron,” she rolls her eyes.  “I just want to see my boyfriend, okay?  Aren't I allowed to see my stupid workaholic boyfriend? Or do I need to get a new boyfriend??”

"Jesus, Kel, calm down," he sighs, sounding tired.  "Okay, I'll... I'll head down after I'm done here.  I'm not going to have any of my shit though, I'll have to borrow your toothbrush."

"That's fine, whatever," she says, even though she gets kind of grossed out by anyone else using her toothbrush.

When she walks back into the break room she holds her chin up like she's just come back from a triumphant battle (well, she sort of has).

"Pam, better make our table for six."

**

Ryan's late and he hasn't even called yet.  And Andy's date is kind of hot... if you like blond girls with big racks or whatever.  And she really wants a roll right now, but she's not about to eat carbs in front of this fucking stick of a person that's sitting across from her. 

"So, how do you know Pam?" she asks the bobble-head.  How does she even hold her head up with that skinny little neck of hers anyway?

"We're taking a few of the same painting classes," she says. 

"Her watercolors are awesome, man," Jim says with a mouthful of bread.  "You should come to their art show next weekend with me."

"That's great, I love... art," Andy nods enthusiastic as always.  Except that she's used to him being enthusiastic in her direction. 

"You know, Pam and I were babysitting Sasha the other weekend," Jim laughs.  "I think I've found my hidden talent to be finger-paint portraits."

"Oh, you mean the green blob with the little red blob on top that was supposed to be me?" Pam scoffs at him.

"What?  It's called abstract, Pam.  Look it up in one of your art books, because my name will be in there someday.  Jim Halpert: legendary fingerpainting abstract... tionist."

"Oh, so we're making up words now too?" Pam grins. 

"I like art," she says all of the sudden.  "Maybe I'll go."

"Oh, you do?" Jim smirks at her. 

"Yeah, totally," she nods.  "Art is... the best.  Thomas Kinkade is like, so great."

Jim bites his bottom lip like he's holding back and the girl with the huge head just stares at her plate.

But Andy's beaming at her. "I love that guy!  He paints like it's a photograph, but, you know... better.  I've got one of those posters in my bathroom."

"Sorry I'm late," Ryan breezes over to the table, collapsing into the chair beside her.  "Getting out of the city was a bitch."

"Hey Ryan," Pam smiles.

"Hi Ryan," Jim says in that overly nice way, glancing over to Kelly with an almost smile.

"Oh, you live in New York?  That's so... I've always wanted to live there," the new girl says.

"Yeah, it's okay I guess."

"It must be fun for you two though, right?  Weekends in the big city?  Talk about romantic."

"Yeah, except when your big city boyfriend doesn't live in Manhattan, which is like the epicenter of everything that is cool, but lives in Brooklyn-"

"Do we have to go over that again?  Number one: it's cheaper.  Number two: Brooklyn is actually really -"

"Yeah, blah blah, Brooklyn is full of hipsters and cool kids and PBR specials, and whatever.  It's still not as cool as Manhattan, especially when it takes like forever to get there on the crummy subway."

"You're just mad that I didn't want to spend two hours walking around Sephora," he rolls his eyes.  "Can I get a beer?"

They are nearing the end of the meal when Andy stretches his arm across the back of the girl's chair. 

"Do you want to go?" she turns to Ryan suddenly. 

"Yeah, actually," he nods.  "I'm pretty wiped."

"Hope you saved at least some energy," she smirks in her best sexy way.  Andy coughs into his water.  Ryan asks for the check.

**

The five are them are at dinner three Saturdays later when she makes the stupidest decision ever.  And we're talking big time stupid, not we'll laugh this off over a beer later stupid. 

She's sitting there, all by herself because Ryan couldn't come for real this time, witnessing Andy and whatsherface's fourth date, and she starts thinking about how on the fourth date even nice girls give it up.  And that's when she starts feeling kind of... irrational? 

"So we go into this guy's office, and it's like the Twilight Zone, right?  Deer heads, fox heads, rabbit heads, you name it, this guy's shot it, and then he asks us-"

"I think Ryan's cheating on me," she blurts out in the midst of one of Jim's stories.  But she's doesn't think that, like not even a little.

"Seriously?" Pam looks really concerned.  She should probably feel bad about making Pam's face look that way (the more you crease your forehead the more wrinkles you'll get there), but right now she doesn't. 

"That would be the shocker of the year," Jim jokes.  Pam isn't amused.

"Ohmygod, that's awful, I once had a boyfriend who -" the candy-apple starts to say before she's unceremoniously cut off mid-sentence by Andy.

"We should go up there."

"Go up... where."

"New York!  The big fruit!  The... the scene of the crime," Andy's gesturing kind of wildly now and his date looks less-than-impressed.

"That's insane," Jim sighs.

"What? We can't just let him get away with this," Andy puts his fist down hard on the table. 

"Well I mean, I don't know that he is, I just have this... feeling," Kelly takes a large sip of her water.  Lying isn't good for her complexion.

"We could drive up.  Catch him red-handed.  Then you'll know."

"You know... maybe Andy's right."

"Pam." Now Jim's the one who doesn't look happy.

This is a bad idea.  No, a bad idea is dying your hair red, or painting your nails the color of barf because the manicure lady thinks it compliments your skin tone.  This is a terrible idea of epic proportions.  And yet, somehow they end up all piled into Jim's car and dropping off sticks&stuff at her house because she doesn't want to drive to New York at nine o'clock at night.  Kelly thinks that maybe she should just speak up and cancel this whole stupid thing, but then Andy just says goodnight to the girl without walking her to her door and she decides that she had better just ride this thing out to the bitter end. 

Jim's obviously pretty pissed about the whole thing because he won't let anyone put in any CDs other than his whiny emo crap and it makes the atmosphere of the car that much more tense and depressing. 

"Hey," Andy reaches his hand to squeeze hers.  "It's going to be okay, okay?

She nods, even though it's probably not. 

About an hour into the trip Andy manages to lighten the mood by starting a round of the Alphabet Game (where you have to find all the letter of the alphabet using road signs and stuff).

"Can we seriously not use license plates?" Jim's craning his neck around.  "How the fuck are we supposed to find a 'Q'?"

"Can you seriously watch the road so we don't die?" Pam laughs. 

"There it is!  Quality Produce!" Andy raises his arms triumphantly, smacking them into the roof in the process.  "Ow."

"Nice one, monkey arms," she giggles. 

"Monkey arms?"  And then he's tickling her until she says uncle.  "I should've held out for monkey's uncle, but I guess that was acceptable."

By the time they reach the city she's almost forgotten why they're going. 

"You know, maybe this isn't such a good idea..." Not such a good idea because her pants are going to set on fire like any second now.

"Oh, here we go," Jim groans.  "I didn't drive hours for us to not go through with this.  If you aren't going to confront the guy, I will."

"Okay, okay."  Kelly crosses her arms in the backseat. 

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," Andy says all of the sudden as though it wasn't his idea in the first place.  "No one is going to make you."

"No..." she finds herself saying.  "I'll be fine.  I can do it."

As she steps out of the car Pam says good luck and Andy holds up his fist and says be strong.  Totally the worst idea ever.

The elevator is creepy and the office is even creepier because it's almost completely dark.  But even in the dark the place looks pretty posh.  She used to dream about something like this.  About her and Ryan moving to the big city and settling down in some cute brownstone like Carrie Bradshaw.  Kelly would wear impossibly cute outfits at the forefront of Manhattan fashion and Ryan would marvel at his luck, finding a girlfriend (a fiance? a wife?) as wonderful as this. 

But she doesn't have the cute brownstone in the city, or the new outfit for every day of the week.  Instead she has Brooklyn and the subway and hours of driving just to see someone who has placed himself at such an emotional distance he may as well be living on the moon sometimes.  Sometimes it isn't fair that she loves him. 

The light from his office spills out a little into the hallway and she can see him sitting there alone.  Not cheating, not drinking, not anything.  He looks tired and older than he should, and his head is propped up on one of his hands.  His hair is in serious need of a comb.  When she sees him, she realizes what she's actually there to do.  Maybe she should've prepared something to say.  People usually do that, right?

She steps into the light, waiting in the doorway and it's a full minute before he notices that she's there. 

"Hey."  He lifts his head up a little, and when a sort of tired smile sets across his face she thinks she might cry, or kiss him, or worse, because he's actually smiling today.  It's not fair that he gets to make this more difficult than it already is.

"Working late?"

"Yeah... I guess I'm pretty swamped," he sighs, his eyes drifting back towards the pages in front of him.  "Is everything... are you okay?"

"I think we should talk," she takes a few steps forward, and she won't cry if she can help it.

"Yeah," he nods slowly like he already knows what she's here to say.  Probably because he remembers all the times he said it to her before.

She sits in the chair in front of his desk and he leans back, cracking his knuckles against his chest the way he always does when he's feeling uncomfortable.

"It's like we're in a business meeting," she laughs kind of unconvincingly.  He just tightens his jaw a little and nods. 

"Yeah, guess Hunter forgot to pencil-in breakup negotiations in my schedule."

"Ryan, don't be like that..." she sighs.  He's not so comfortable when he isn't the one making decisions, and he obviously isn't about to make this any easier.

When Kelly was ten she got her first cavity.  She cried for three hours before raiding the kitchen and throwing away every possible sweet in the house.  She thought her sisters might strangle her, but it didn't matter at the time because she was determined to never be in that kind of pain again.  But only four days later, her mother had found a stash of candy in her backpack.

Kelly never had been any good at giving up the things she knew weren't good for her. 

"You have to actually say it, you know," Ryan says all the sudden.  His arms are crossed against his chest and the way the light is hitting his face makes his eyes look like shadows. 

"I want to break up, Ryan," she says finally.   He doesn't move. 

"You sure about that?"  She nods. 

"Fine," he says like he's desperate to stay aloof.  "Just don't call me crying next week then, okay Kel? "

She stands up from her chair and wishes him all of the luck she knows he'll have.  As she walks off down the hallway she can see him lean forward with his elbows propped on the desk, his chin resting on his fists. 

She stands in the elevator for what feels like a long time, holding the door open, deciding between going back to that office and moving forward.  Maybe now he'd understand.  Maybe now he'd love her the right way.  It isn't like there's some magic switch that she can just turn off now.

Her second cavity had been found on her eleventh birthday, because sometimes she just couldn't learn. 

She takes her finger off the button and the doors close. 

"Hold it -" Ryan's arm appears between the doors and they slide back open.  He's standing there panting and when he kisses her she's the one that has the pull away. 

"Forget what I said," he says, leaning his hand against the elevator door.  "Call me if you need anything." 

She nods, but can't really find any words she wants to use.  And he doesn't walk away until the doors are closed.

No one bothers her in the car about what happened.  She just leans against the window and cries as quietly as she can the entire ride home. 

Sure, she loves him, but she needs someone who doesn't love her only some of the time.  She needs something that's good for her.

**

"That's a good look for you," Andy laughs as she pulls her hair down from a side-ponytail. 

"Yeah, this is totally in, right?" she laughs.

"Hey, I thought leggings were back.  That's eighties, right?"

"God, Andy, you are like a fashion retard," she rolls her eyes at him.  "Leggings are totally different this season.  Do I have to teach you everything?"

"Probably," he grins.  "Nice pipes this evening."

"You weren't so bad either," she smiles. 

"I think Pennsyl-mania was a pretty big hit, don't you?"

"Yeah, we should probably wait by the phone for when Quincy Jones calls to offer us a record deal," she laughs.  "So... did Rachel come to the show?  I didn't see her out there."

"Oh, no... we broke up," he says, scratching at the back of his neck.  "I just didn't... we broke up."

"Oh," Kelly nods.  "That sucks."

"Yeah, it really sucks."  But he's smiling when he says it.  Smiling like, an abnormal amount.  "Hungry?"

"Starving."

"Food court?"

"Lead the way."  She links her arm into his when he holds it out to her.

People stare at them a little as they sit in the food court sharing a Cinnabon, probably because they both look borderline ridiculous.  Andy is wearing a neon green baseball cap backwards, not mention the socks.  Her headband is pink, but it looks totally cute.

She kisses him next to his car because he's still too much of a wuss to make a move, and she's pleasantly surprised to discover that he's like, at least a 9.8 now. 

She finds out that Andy's a  9.8 in a lot of things actually. 

**