Since calling off her engagement to Roy a few months ago, Pam had moved into a tiny, one-bedroom duplex near work. It had taken a considerable chunk of her savings, including half of whatever refunds she’d been able to get after canceling the wedding. She thanked God she hadn’t had any vacation time to take an extended honeymoon with Roy, and had booked a room at a Connecticut bed and breakfast instead. Roy told her they would go to Florida in December, and Pam scrimped in preparation. Little did she know she’d actually spend that money on the utility hookups and a security deposit.

Her new place was quiet, clean, and wholly hers. Gone was the sports memorabilia, the dirty socks thrown haphazardly on the floor, the empty beer bottles. Instead, her home smelled of peppermint tea, rosemary and sage (she bought the Chia herb garden because it was on sale and she couldn’t resist the cheesiness), and lavender candles. It was decorated in a girly, shabby-chic (rather, mismatched) furniture, and felt more like home to her than any place she’d shared with Roy.

As the fan recycled hot air, Pam decided to wear her hair up in a bun, instead of her usual style. Checking the time, she grabbed her sweater—if Kevin had his way, the office would be a cool, sixty-nine degrees. Her inner twelve-year-old laughed—and locked the door behind her. The morning air, thick with humidity, wrapped around her like a heavy blanket. Thinking it unseasonably warm for September, she sighed and climbed into her car.

“How was your evening?” Jim asked.

“Fine. I watched a Lifetime movie while knitting.”

“You knit?” The corner of Jim’s mouth curved up, and Pam had to shake her head to keep from becoming fixated on it.

“Yes.” The look in her eyes dared him to tease her. She didn’t tell him Phyllis started teaching Pam how to knit during lunch breaks. She didn’t tell him she was knitting a scarf for his Christmas gift. And she most certainly didn’t tell him how she would run her fingers over the fibers, envious that they would one day touch his skin.

“Pam-a-lamma-ding-dong!” Michael walked in and paused next to Jim. “The weatherman said today is going to be a scorcher. So if you want to sunbathe on your lunch break, that’s okay by me. Clothing optional.”

Jim chuckled, but quickly turned it into a fake cough, while Pam glared at Michael. She felt the blush rise on her cheeks, which annoyed her further, but Jim winked as he grabbed a green jelly bean and moved toward his desk, and her anger disappeared.

Pam hadn’t gotten completely used to Jim’s presence in the office. He had taken the position in the Stamford office after she had been unable to immediately push her years with Roy aside. Jim’s kiss that night had wrecked her. She felt as if he’d shaken her very foundation with that kiss. As someone naturally reserved and hesitant, she had difficulty picking up the pieces, arranging them into this new Pam he demanded she acknowledge.

When he left, she was angrier than she had ever been. How dare he force this change in their relationship, only to abandon her? Later, she was able to appreciate the wisdom of his decision. She had needed time to separate from Roy, time to start over. She didn’t need the pressure of making a commitment to Jim right away. And if Jim felt a fraction of the pain she felt, it wasn’t any wonder why he’d fled.

They had kept in contact through email, though it was infrequent at best. And Pam learned Jim had a girlfriend from office gossip. She couldn’t begin to describe the pain she’d felt upon learning that. She remembers mumbling something to Phyllis, then rushing out in tears. Phyllis never mentioned it again, and they’d started knitting lessons that week. Pam welcomed the distraction. Instead of sitting in the lunch room, which was so full of memories, she’d sit at her desk and concentrate on the knitting pattern. Since that day, she’d been better at disguising her anguish, but it was still there.

Her life barely settled into her new normal when it was disrupted again. The Stamford office had been closed due to downsizing, and Jim was to return to the Scranton branch while the other employees relocated to different offices or quit. Jim’s desk was still empty—Ryan had been filling in until Michael could find a replacement—and Pam wondered how she could face Jim’s return.

Their reunion was awkward, but warm. Instead of shaking her offered hand, Jim pulled her into his arms. Pam had closed her eyes, breathing him in, and felt something in her loosen. Jim’s presence shouldn’t have had such an effect on her, but Pam could admit her relief, if only to herself. Jim held her for a fraction longer than necessary, and then released her. He greeted his other co-workers, and Pam was able to turn away and dab at her eyes.

They’d had their uncomfortable moments, sure. The time when Jim had spoken to some woman who called a week after his return. His voice tense and low, Pam pretended not to notice. But for the most part, they easily slid back into their roles as wacky co-conspirators, and Pam was happy to have Jim back in her life no matter how much pain it caused her. Though she longed for and mourned their past closeness, she realized it would take time to nurture that trust again.

Between answering the phones, filing papers according to Michael’s new, ridiculous system, and peeking at Jim, Pam hadn’t noticed how stuffy the office had become. She debated taking off her sweater, but decided against it, because she had on only a camisole underneath. It wasn’t the type of clothing she’d normally wear, but her mom convinced her to buy it during a recent mother and daughter shopping spree. Her mother insisted, “You’re starting a new life, sweetie. You should have some new, pretty things to wear.” Pam acquiesced only after deciding the cami didn’t show any cleavage. It was pretty, a nice coral shade with delicate beading along the neckline.

Instead, Pam pushed the sweater sleeves to her elbows, and went to Jim’s desk. “Does it feel hot to you?” she asked.

Dwight interrupted, “No. Schrutes are impervious to extreme weather conditions. Our superior genes help us acclimate.”

Jim and Pam were speechless for a moment.

“Let’s check the thermostat,” Jim suggested, allowing Pam to lead. The discovered it registered seventy-nine degrees, though it was set to seventy-one. Pam turned the dial down and waited for the tell-tale click that signified the air conditioner had turned on.

“Hey, guys, what are you doing?” Kelly asked.

“Shhhh. We’re listening for the a.c.,” Jim said.

Pam noticed Ryan glance at Kelly, then hurriedly pick up his phone as if he was making an important call.

Kevin and Oscar wandered over. “It’s hot in here,” Kevin said. “I like it cooler, but someone keeps turning it up.” By this time, the small group had attracted the others’ attention, and Phyllis and Toby joined them.

“No,” Pam replied, “it’s set at seventy-one, but doesn’t seem to be working.”

“Maybe I should call my boyfriend, Bob Vance of Vance Refrigeration, and see if he can help,” Phyllis supplied.

“You can’t leave. It’s not even lunchtime. I’m telling Michael,” Dwight said. However, Michael was already walking over to where the group stood. “What’s up my peeps?” he asked.

“Ah, Pam and I noticed the room seemed hot, so we came to check the thermostat. I think it’s broken,” Jim said as he flicked the dial.

“Broken? That’s nonsense,” Michael replied. “Besides, a little heat never bothered anyone. Be glad you’re not working in the fields. Am I right, Stanley, my brotha?”

Stanley glared at Michael. “How would I know about working in the fields?”

Michael quickly turned and addressed Oscar. “Back me up, amigo.” Oscar rolled his eyes.

“Michael, I don’t think that’s appropriate--” Toby started before being interrupted.

“Appropriate sch…mapropriate. What we need to do is climb on the roof and check the air conditioner.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea…” said Toby, but Michael was already out the door.

After conferring with Darryl and the head of maintenance, it was determined the air conditioner, indeed, was broken. That there was ice over the coils of the unit probably helped the assessment. Michael called for a repairman to come and was incensed when he learned it would be at least four hours before the repairman could arrive. “Four hours!” he exclaimed. But not even a call to Jan could expedite the process.

Michael stepped out of his office and announced, “Everyone, listen up. I have the solution to our problem: strip poker. The Pack-man and I loved Strip-Poker Fridays way back in the day. You should have been there. This one time, everyone was down to their underwear except for Packer. It was so awesome.” Michael laughed at the memory for a while before noticing nobody else was laughing with him.

Instead, he was on the receiving end of glares that rivaled Angela’s most withering, scornful looks.

“Kidding! Kidding!” Michael raised his hands in what appeared to be an attempt to placate them. “But really, I’m going to go out and buy you all a surprise to make up for this. Who wants ice cream?”

“I do! I do!” Dwight bounced in excitement.

“Ryan? Ryan, I need you to go with me.”

“But—but I…” Ryan stammered.

“No buts, Ry-guy. Your boss commands it.”

Seeing an opportunity, Kelly jumped in. “Can I go, too, Michael? You’ll need someone to help pick out the right low-fat, organic fruit bars with soy-cream swirls for us girls.”

Michael looked as if he wanted to argue, but only replied, “Sure. The more the merrier.”

“Can I come too?” Dwight asked.

“No. Car’s full, have no room.”

“But--”

“Uh-uh. Zip it. Zip!”

Michael, Kelly, and Ryan, who threw a pleading glance over his shoulder at Jim and Pam, left.

“Well, as Assistant Security Manager,” Dwight began.

“To the,” Jim interrupted.

“Assistant Security Manager,” Dwight insisted, “it’s part of my job to ensure the safety of everyone in the building, so I will wait on the roof for the service technician.” Looking past Jim, Dwight added, “Angela, as the only superior officer present, I demand you join me, in case I need something.”

Angela’s lips pursed, but she nodded and followed him.

“I think I’ll call Bob and see if he’d like to meet me for lunch a little early,” Phyllis said.

Jim turned to Pam and asked, “Anyone up for Pictionary?”

Creed napped at his desk, and Meredith said she was going out for cocktails. (At this, Pam raised her eyebrows at Jim.) But Kevin, Toby, and Oscar joined them, and in an uncharacteristic moment, Stanley went along with them, too, and rounded out the group.

“Nah. He’s probably roped Ryan and Kelly into going to a water park or something.”

She laughed, and then groaned. “It is so hot. It’s got to be ninety degrees at least.”

“Well, of course. You’re wearing a sweater.” Jim’s bemused smile lit his face, but then he frowned and looked down at the table. “You could take it off,” he suggested without looking up.

“Uh…” Pam hesitated, and mentally chastised herself for being a prude. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s silly to wear a sweater when the air conditioner is broken.” She shrugged out of the garment, placed it on the back of her chair, and turned.

When she saw the look on Jim’s face, Pam froze. His eyes, so expressive and bright, contained wonder and shock, and—if she didn’t know better—lust. She felt a tickle in her lower abdomen, felt exposed before him, and jumped out of her chair.

“Hey, do you want a soda? Let’s split a soda. I’ll even splurge and buy the good stuff. Grape, right?” she rambled. Turning her back on him, Pam searched her pockets for change.

“Pam.” His voice made her shudder, and Pam wondered how she could feel so overwhelmingly hot and have chills running down her spine at the same time. But that was nothing compared with the jolt she experienced when she felt something cool glide along her neck.

“What…?” she whispered.

“Shhh,” Jim said in a low voice. “I want to tell you something. I know it’s been a few months and you might not be ready, but Pam—I’ve got to know how you feel about us.”

As he talked, Jim moved the ice across her shoulders, up and down her neck, only to start the process again. The feelings he invoked, paired with his words, made Pam dizzy. She placed her hands flat against the vending machine in an attempt to brace herself.

“Coming in here everyday is torture. While I was in Stamford, I convinced myself it was best for you. I tried to see other women, but I’d dream of you. I’d wake in the middle of the night, convinced I’d heard your laughter. I thought I was going out of my mind.”

Pam ached, knowing exactly how he had felt. She, too, had been plagued by dreams of Jim, his voice, his eyes, only to wake up alone.

He continued, “I’m so glad to be back here, to be friends, but I want more.” He paused, then whispered, “I’ve always wanted more.”

At this revelation, Pam turned toward Jim and saw his look of complete adoration. Raising a shaky hand, she caressed his cheek and said, “Yes.”

Jim leaned in, but noticing the cameras, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the supply closet.

As soon as the door latched, Jim shoved Pam against it and kissed her roughly. It seemed like months, years, of pent-up feelings poured out of him. Their Casino Night kiss hadn’t even begun to tap into the passion he now displayed, and Pam wondered if she’d have bruises before the night ended. Not that she minded. Pam gave everything she had, nipping his lips and caressing him with her tongue. Jim ran his hands up her arms, over her shoulders and neck, and stopped when they cupped her face. The kissed gentled, becoming slow and deep, before he backed away. Winding a tendril around his finger, Jim asked, voice husky, “Will you take your hair down?”

Without speaking, Pam began to remove the pins from her hair. When she finished, Jim ran his fingers through her locks, then pulled her in for another kiss.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said.

“About as long as I’ve wanted to, probably,” Pam replied as she ran her hand through his hair.

“Yeah?” he asked with a boyish smile.

“Yeah.”

“Let’s get out of here. It’s Friday, nobody is going to care.”

Pam doubted that very much, thinking of the sensation their mussed appearances would cause as they emerged from the closet—together—and smiled in agreement.