She sits numbly on the edge of the bed.  His bed.  Her heart is still racing and her eyes sting, and before she knows it tears are streaming down her cheeks. 

She got herself in this mess.  She knows that.  She wants to blame it all on the alcohol, because she knows that none of this would have happened if she weren’t drunk.  But she also knows it doesn’t really matter why it happened.  It happened.  Now she has to deal with the aftermath. 

And he’s just… so mad.   

She’s never seen him even a little bit mad before.  It was awful seeing that kind of anger on his face.  Is he still going to be mad in the morning?  Of course he will be.  

Oh god… Is he even going to be friends with her anymore? 

Suddenly she feels like she can’t breathe.  She takes a couple of deep, shaky breaths, and wipes her eyes on her sleeves.  She can’t possibly think about this anymore.  It hurts.  It aches somewhere behind her ribs, an actually physical ache.   

And then there was that last kiss.  She can’t even think about what that means. 

She just has to go to sleep and pray that in the morning he’ll forgive her.  She goes over to his dresser and pulls out an old Philadelphia Eagles T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that she knows will be huge on her.  She’s shaking so badly that she has to sit on the edge of the bed to get changed.  

She huddles under his comforter, swimming in things that smell like him, and tries to ignore the fact that she may have just completely ruined the best friendship she ever had.  She drifts into a fretful sleep.   

***

He’s almost positive that his heart is going to hammer right out of his chest.  His feet pound fast and heavy on the stairs as he escapes to the living room, propelled by pure adrenaline.  He doesn’t bother getting a blanket from the hall closet; there’s no way he’s going to sleep tonight.   

He throws his dead weight onto the couch and balls his hands into tight fists.  He let’s out a huge, shaky breath and leans his whole body forward so that his closed eyes are pressing onto his fists and his fists are pressing onto his knees.   

What did I do? 

He sort of rocks like that for a few seconds while the same thoughts revolve in his head. 

I grabbed her and kissed her.  I just fucking grabbed her and kissed her.  I kissed her and yelled at her.  I scared her and then I just ran.  Jesus, what the hell did I do? 

He’s still so angry with her because yeah, she was drunk, but she was just teasing him.  What the hell was she thinking, just kissing him like that, like it was no big deal when she knew, she had to know, that it nearly killed him.  Is this all just a joke to her?  Does she know and think it’s just some funny little crush? 

But regardless, he can’t believe how angry he’d let himself get.  He could have brushed it off, let it slide because she was drunk, but he didn’t.  He’d just grabbed her and scared her and oh yeah, she’s engaged.  How will he be able to look at her in the morning?   

It’s only a little after 12:30, so he turns on Conan and tries not to think about the fact that he may have just ruined whatever he had with Pam.  He doesn’t laugh once, despite the fact that Conan does an “In the Year 2000” skit, which is his favorite thing.  He stares blankly at the screen and tries to ignore the panic that continues to seize him. 

When Conan is over, he watches a repeat of The Daily Show.  He can’t help replaying everything that happened before he kissed her.   

She was saying something right before… What was she saying? 

‘Jim I just need to know…’    

Know what?  That he is completely head over heels in love with her and he’s pathetic enough that an innocuous goodnight kiss from her can absolutely destroy him?  He tries to stop this train of thought, because he’s getting angry all over again. 

By the time Jon Stewart signs off, he’s basically numb.  He doesn’t want to think, and he can’t sleep, so he spends the next hour or so to trying to find the least annoying infomercial. 

He finally settles on a terrifying Jason-like mask that you put on and hook up to a nine-volt battery to shock your face into looking younger. He immediately thinks, Oh my god, I have to tell Pam about this. And then he remembers. Oh yeah. 

He hates his life.   

***

She wakes up less than two hours after she first closed her eyes.  Her whole face hurts from crying and her eyes feel puffy and swollen.  And she still feels like the worst person in the world.  But on the plus side, she doesn’t feel drunk anymore and the spins have stopped.  She doesn’t even have a headache, really, which is kind of amazing. 

She flicks on the lamp on the nightstand and sits up.  Her eyes scan his room.  She’s never really seen it before, and she certainly wasn’t taking mental notes earlier tonight when she first came in.  He has a guitar.  Hmm.  She didn’t know he played.  Some books.  Some posters.  His desk.  It’s right next to the bed.  She pulls open the drawer nearest her, and there are his crayons, sitting right on top. 

She suddenly feels a small flicker of hope in her chest.  

After successfully finding a piece of paper (Dunder-Mifflin ultra bright white everyday-use inkjet) she settles herself at his desk and gets to work.  It only takes about twenty minutes to finish her masterpiece, and she decides that she has to leave it downstairs on the coffee table so it’s the first thing he sees when he wakes up.  It’s the best way she can think of to put him in a better mood before he sees her. 

She tiptoes down the hall, but when she comes to the stairs, she sees bluish light coming from the living room, and she can hear the TV.  As she rounds the corner into the room she sees a terrifying serial killer mask on the screen.  It takes her a second to realize it’s an infomercial and not a horror film. 

Jim is clearly awake and watching whatever this is.  He hasn’t seen or heard her, and now she has a choice.  She can chicken out and run back up the stairs, or she can stay and try to smooth things over tonight.  

It’s doubtful that she’ll have the courage to bring any of this up in the morning.  She really needs for things to be normal between them tomorrow.  She can’t stand the thought that their friendship is irreparably damaged, so she hesitantly pads over to the couch and stands behind him. 

“Wow.  What is that?” she asks conversationally. 

He jumps and spins around.  He looks startled and unsure of how to react.  She begs him with her eyes. 

Please just act normal. 

He nods, as if he’s made a decision for how to proceed. 

“That would be the Rejuvenique Mask,” he states. 

Pam barely holds back a sigh of relief.  She turns back to the screen, where a woman is trying desperately not to jump as the mask repeatedly shocks her. 

“Is its purpose to melt your face?” she asks. 

Jim doesn’t smile, but there’s a hint of mirth in the corners of his mouth. 

“Very possibly, but I’m not sure because I’ve only been watching for a few minutes,” he replies. 

She notices now that he’s still dressed in his work clothes and there are no pillows or blankets on the couch. 

“Have you been awake this whole time?” she asks with a note of concern. 

He shrugs nonchalantly. 

“Yeah.  This couch isn’t exactly the most comfortable thing.” 

She knows that he hasn’t even tried to sleep, and that the comfort level of the couch has nothing to do with his being awake. 

“Well, it’s no futon,” she comments. 

“Yeah, I’ve heard those things are really popular with girls your age,” he replies without missing a beat. 

She smiles and feels for the first time like maybe they’ll be okay.  She comes around the edge of the couch and sits, careful that she’s not too close. 

“What’s that?” Jim asks. 

She realizes that he’s talking about the folded piece of paper in her hand and feels momentarily flustered. 

“Oh, um… I made it.  For you,” she stutters. 

She holds it out and he takes it warily.  As he unfolds it, his eyes get wide.  Slowly, a smile grows on his face.  Pam exhales, feeling her nerves calm.  He is Jim again. 

His eyes scan her dual drawings of a miniature cartoon Angela tending to her cats.  On the left, she wears large safety goggles; on the right, swimmers goggles. 

“Okay, the safety goggles are totally better,” he decrees. 

“Totally,” she concurs. 

They are both quiet for a second, smiling lightly as Jim continues to examine her drawing.  She focuses on his smile, his lips, and with a sudden rush the memory of their last kiss comes back.  She inhales a bit too sharply and he throws her a curious smile. 

He’s smiling.  He’s not mad right now.  It’s time to try to make things normal again, she tells herself.   

“Jim.  About earlier tonight…” 

She swallows hard and pauses for a moment to collect her thoughts, when Jim interrupts. 

“Pam, let’s just… not,” he says softly.   

His expression is sad and pleading, but she knows they have to talk about this. 

“No, I mean… I really just want to say, you know… I’m sorry and—” 

“Pam, seriously.  Let’s just let it go,” he interrupts again.  This time his voice is harder and so is his expression. 

She frowns. 

“If we don’t say anything now, it’ll just be this… thing that we both remember but don’t talk about.  It’ll be weird,” she says earnestly. 

Jim looks away and sighs impatiently. 

“We’ll just pretend it never happened,” he says. “Isn’t that what you wanted?  To wake up tomorrow and just pretend tomorrow that none of it ever happened?” 

He’s looking at her again.  He doesn’t seem outwardly mad, but she can feel the tension radiating off of him. 

“I really think if we just talk about it, it’ll be less weird,” she says meekly. 

“Really?  What part of kissing me three times tonight will be less weird if we talk about it?” he snaps. 

Her heart makes a mad dash for freedom.  She can feel it pounding somewhere up in her throat, because oh my GOD, he just actually said it.  She’s suddenly very aware that she’s wearing his clothes and sitting alone with him on his couch in the middle of the night. 

Okay, Pam.  Focus.  Breathe. 

“Well, I mean… Okay, so that stuff happened.  But it was late and I was drunk, and—” 

He sighs angrily and she rushes to amend herself. 

“I’m not saying that I just did it because I was drunk,” she says. 

“Did what?” 

There is a challenge in his question. 

“Jim,” she protests feebly. 

“You can’t even say it,” he says, shaking his head. 

She looks down at her hands and takes a deep breath. 

“Okay, fine.  I didn’t just kiss you because I was drunk,” she says quickly.  “There were… other reasons.  I mean, it’s totally normal for feelings to develop.” 

Jim’s eyes get wide, but then narrow again in mock curiosity. 

“Oh, really?” he asks. 

Pam can’t help feeling like she’s being cross-examined.  Jim seems almost predatory in his responses. 

“We work together every day.  We’re best friends.  It’s only natural that there might be some general sort of feelings that…”

She trails off when he rolls his eyes.   

“What?” she demands. 

“This is why I don’t want to do this.  I don’t want to talk, because you don’t really want to talk,” he says. 

“What does that mean?” she asks defensively. 

“You just want to talk about it so you can explain it all away.” 

Pam opens and closes her mouth a few times but only indignant scoffing comes out.  She can’t come up with a defense. 

“That’s why I say let’s just skip the talk and tomorrow morning we can pretend that we explained it away a hundred percent.  Save ourselves the trouble of coming up with rationalizations,” he plows ahead. 

Pam is stunned.  He thinks she’s just lying?  She admitted she has feelings.  What more does he want? 

“I’m not making this up,” Pam says angrily.  “I am being honest.” 

“Really?” Jim asks, skepticism dripping from the word. 

“Look, you’re dating Katy.  I’m engaged.  So maybe there are these feelings, but they’re just…”  

He looks at her, feigning serious attention.  He’s nodding in mock agreement like an eager student at a lecture, and she grits her teeth. 

“They’re just… They don’t really mean anything,” she says firmly. 

He tilts his head back and let’s out an angry sigh.  He looks at the ceiling, as though commiserating with it when a shrill tone pierces the silence. 

They both jump, and it takes Pam a second to realize that it’s her cell phone.  Her eyes dart around the room, trying to remember where her she put her purse.  She sees it on the floor by Jim’s feet and gestures feebly at it.   

She expects him to just hand her the purse, but instead he pulls it up into his lap and opens it.  He finds her cell immediately on top, so it isn’t like he’s digging through her personal belongings, but the fact that he’s in her purse at all strikes her as shockingly intimate.  He pulls out the phone and checks the caller ID. 

“Roy,” he says in a resigned tone, like he was expecting this. 

She waits for him to pass her the phone, but he doesn’t.  It’s ringing for the fourth time and he’s just staring at it.  She can’t figure out what is taking him so long when a horrible thought occurs to her. 

Oh my god.  He’s going to answer it. 

Her mind races.  What will she do if he answers the phone?  Why would he want to answer it in the first place?  What is he planning on saying?  How would she fix whatever he said?   

What the hell is he doing?! 

The fifth ring comes, and she panics. 

“Jim!” she blurts out, eyes wide. 

He seems to break out of whatever trance he was in, and he robotically thrusts the phone toward her.  Heart still hammering, she flips it open. 

“Roy,” she says. 

It’s not much of a hello, but she’s still thinking about how she would have explained that she’s spending the night at Jim’s.  Plus, she remembers, she’s still mad at Roy.  That’s how this whole mess got started in the first place. 

“Baby, where are you?  I just got home from the bar and you’re not here.” 

He sounds slightly drunk.  Moreover, behind the note of concern in his voice she can hear annoyance. 

“You just got back?” she asks. 

She hadn’t even realized when Angela pulled into her driveway that Roy’s truck wasn’t anywhere in sight. 

“Yeah.  It was awesome, Pammy.  They had dollar pitchers and Darryl totally went home with this chick with a boob tattoo.” 

He sounds like a little kid talking about a fun day at school. 

“That’s great, Roy,” she mutters, not trying to keep the disgust out of her reply. 

“So… where are you?” he asks, apparently just remembering the reason for his phone call. 

Her eyes dart to Jim.  He is staring darkly at the coffee table as though it has badly insulted him.   

“I, uh… I went home with Angela,” she stutters, trying to ignore way Jim shakes his head ever-so-slightly.  Whether it’s in disappointment or anger, she’s not sure. 

“What?  Why?” Roy asks. 

Pam feels her face getting hot as she recalls the way Roy grabbed her arm in the parking lot.  She feels herself getting irritated all over again. 

“Because, Roy,” she begins harshly.  “I didn’t want to have to deal with you tonight.” 

Jim starts to turn toward her, but catches himself and pretends that he just picked this moment to a casually survey the room.  His eyes flutter from thing to thing in an almost comical attempt at forced-casualness. 

“Oh come on, Pam,” Roy says bitterly.  “You’re not still mad about the stupid Dundies, are you?” 

Jim sneaks another glance at her and she stands up and makes her way to the kitchen.  She knows that he will still be able to hear her there, but at least she won’t be distracted by his reactions. 

“It’s not about the Dundies, Roy!” 

She wants to shout it, but she’s in Jim’s house and he’s in the next room, so she takes a seat at the kitchen table and settles for an angry whisper. 

“It’s about you not even asking me what I wanted and just deciding that we were both going to leave.” 

“Yeah, but babe, Angela’s house?  Doesn’t she have a cat that pees everywhere?” 

Pam pauses and frowns. 

“How do you even know that?” she asks. 

“She came down to the warehouse once to ask Darryl what the best disinfectant for animal urine was.  And she brought that weird guy with the glasses as a bodyguard.” 

It’s funny, but Pam is determined to stay mad and refuses to crack a smile, even though he can’t see it. 

“Well, I don’t smell any pee, and I’m tired, so…” 

Her voice trails off and she waits for him to say a gruff goodbye, but instead there’s an extended pause. 

“I’m sorry.  I should have asked you if you wanted to leave.” 

Pam is shocked.  He actually sounds sorry.  Usually when he apologizes he sounds like a child being forced to make nice, but this is sincere.  And that’s when it hits her. 

She cheated on Roy tonight. 

Well, two chaste kisses that she instigated and one very not chaste kiss that she didn’t start but certainly didn’t stop.  

Oh my god. I threw myself at another man tonight. 

What right does she have to be angry with Roy at all?  She feels like the worst sort of person.  The horrible guilt starts clawing at her insides and she struggles for something to say. 

“It’s fine.  I’m…”  

She takes a deep breath, trying to clear her head.  What is she doing here?   She has to go home.  This is so wrong. 

“Anyway, I’m glad you stayed,” Roy starts, interrupting her thoughts.  “We needed a rep to accept our Dundie.  Gotta defend the title!” 

She can picture him grinning, and all of the guilt she was feeling dissipates into extreme annoyance.  She has to concentrate hard on not snapping at him when she replies. 

“Actually, we didn’t get our usual award.” 

“Awww, man!” Roy whines.  “What was it?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” she blusters.  “You actually wanted to win ‘longest engagement’ again?” 

“Yeah!” he replies with a laugh.  “It’s hilarious, Pam!” 

She can’t stop herself. 

“You think it’s hilarious that all of my coworkers are laughing at me?” she asks heatedly. 

“They’re not laughing at you!  They’re laughing at the joke!” Roy says like he thinks she’s crazy. 

“Yeah, Roy!  The joke is our engagement!” Pam shouts, forgetting for a moment where she is. 

There is a deadly pause. 

“So our engagement is a joke to you?” he demands. 

She rolls her eyes, because of course he misinterprets her.   

“To some people,” she replies curtly.  “Not to me.” 

“Oh, so I think our engagement is a joke?” he shouts. 

“You’ve had us push back our wedding date twice, and now we don’t even have a date!  That’s why it’s a joke, Roy.” 

“What, so you want me to pick a date? Fine.  June 3rd,” he declares. 

Pam can’t believe him. 

“You don’t even know if that’s a weekend!  You’re just saying it to calm me down and a month from now you’ll say June is too soon,” she accuses. 

She hears him let out a frustrated sigh. 

“What do you want from me, Pam?  Because I don’t get it!” 

Obviously, she thinks. 

“You’re right.  You don’t get it,” she replies.   

She pauses, because… Will he ever get it? 

Whenever she imagined getting married as a little girl, she never imagined having to nag the groom into setting a date.  She never imagined the romance being gone before they even said ‘I do.’ 

“Maybe that’s the problem,” she says absently. 

She thinks of Jim.  She can’t help it.  She can’t help thinking that if Jim was in Roy’s position, he’d not only have a date picked out, but he’d actually be happy to help her plan the wedding.  She knows it’s ridiculous and wrong and awful of her to compare her fiancé to her best friend like that, but it’s too late.   

Roy’s voice breaks through her inner turmoil.  

“Look, I’m still kinda drunk.  Can we do this in the morning?” he says gruffly. 

“Yeah.  That’s a good idea,” Pam says, only half in the conversation anymore.  She’s absorbed with her own thoughts. 

She told Roy that she wanted to live in a house with a terrace and he laughed at her.   

“Babe, I love you, all right?” 

Jim would never laugh at her for that. 

“Good night,” she says abruptly.   

She shuts the phone immediately, and tries to sort through the mass of thoughts whirling through her brain.   

She thinks of all the times Roy has made her cry in the last month.  She thinks of all the times that Jim has made her laugh.  She thinks about how Roy yelled at her last week because she tried to discuss floral arrangements with him when he was watching the game.  She thinks about how it’s been forever since he has bought her flowers, or told her she looks beautiful, or asked her how her day was without her prompting him first. 

She is terrified by the sudden realization that she may have fallen out of love with the man she is supposed to marry.   

***

Jim hears her phone conversation get increasingly heated until she is yelling in the middle of his kitchen.  He hears her say things like, “The joke is our engagement,” and before he knows it he’s on his feet and moving toward her.  

Before the phone rang, she told him that she had feelings for him.  Granted, she said that they developed as a simple result of proximity, because they see each other every day.  She said that those feelings didn’t mean anything, but he knows the truth now.  She feels something for him, and she just needs to tell herself certain things to keep some semblance of order in her life.  

He finds himself at the threshold to the kitchen without consciously deciding to move there.  Suddenly he’s only a foot away from her and she’s saying goodbye to Roy.  His fingers seem to move independently, because before he can stop himself, they brush lightly against her shoulder. 

She turns slowly, because of course she knows it’s him.  He realizes he’s holding his breath.  He doesn’t know what he’s going to do or say, but he just needs to look at her.   

When her eyes meet his, she looks so raw and open that it shocks him.  There are no walls up.  No cameras to intrude.  Her eyes are wide and glassy and she’s breathing a little hard.  She’s staring right at him, but he can tell she’s a million miles away.  What is she thinking? 

She’s at a breaking point, he knows it, and he has to do something. When he speaks, it’s the quietest whisper. 

“Pam.  Please...” 

His voice is rough and almost pained.  He means so many things with that please.   

Please leave your deadbeat fiancé. Please be a little less amazing so I can stop loving you.  Please kiss me again.  Please stop hurting me.   Please can we pretend for tonight that you aren’t engaged?  Please be honest with me, just this once. 

But then her eyes are wet, and he can’t stand to see it, so all he says is, 

“Please don’t cry.” 

The tears continue to fall, and he’s at the table and in the chair next to her without a moment’s hesitation.  Her head falls on his chest, and he wraps his arms around her.  He hates that Roy does this to her.  How many times has he found her with puffy eyes after a fight with that asshole?  How many more times does it have to happen before she realizes how wrong he is for her? 

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbles into his dress shirt. 

“For what?” he asks softly. 

“For everything.” 

He rubs her back gently and shakes his head. 

“They were both really innocent kisses, Pam.  Don’t even—” 

“They were mistakes.  I’m with Roy,” she interjects robotically. 

She is motionless in his arms.  

“I know that,” he says. 

She doesn’t reply, but she still hasn’t moved, so he pulls back to look at her. 

She looks so completely miserable.  He hates Roy more now than he ever has. 

“Do you really see yourself marrying him?” Jim asks without thinking. 

He expects an automatic, “yes,” but he’s surprised by her response. 

“I always did.” 

His heart jumps a little. 

What? 

“Do you still?” he prods. 

She looks away, somewhere in the direction of the saltshaker on the kitchen table. 

“Everyone gets cold feet,” she tells the saltshaker. 

He feels his frustration getting the better of him. 

“They get cold feet before the wedding.  You don’t even know when the wedding is going to be.  He hasn’t set a date, Pam,” he snaps. 

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he knows he’s gone too far.  She raises her eyebrows a little and turns further away.   

He can’t stand the silence.  He wishes she would either yell at him for overstepping his bounds or make some excuse to leave the room; anything to stop this awkward silence.  But she is perfectly quiet.  She seems to be contemplating something deeply. 

He supposes he should start apologizing before she regroups, sort of a preemptive strike.  She’s already said she’s sorry, and he hasn’t apologized for anything he’s done tonight. 

“I’m sorry that I grabbed you and… you know,” he says lamely. 

Her eyes shoot back to his, and he’s startled by the challenge he sees in them. 

“Grabbed me and what?” she asks. 

He knows exactly what she’s doing.  She wants him to say it, just like he made her say it. 

“I’m sorry I grabbed you and kissed you,” he replies, ignoring the way his heart races when he says the words. 

“I’m not,” she says bluntly. 

He frowns, but before he has time to formulate a response, she’s looking at him like she did before in his bedroom.  Before she gave him that goodnight kiss. 

She leans forward, escalating his fear into a state of absolute panic.  He watches mutely, frozen in place as she reaches up to run a hand through his hair. 

“No,” he says suddenly, jerking out of her grasp. 

She looks confused and hurt. 

“You can’t do this to me again, Pam,” he says desperately.  “This isn’t just… this isn’t just a crush for me, okay?  This isn’t something that just happened because we see each other every day. This is real.” 

She meets his eyes again. 

“I know,” she says. 

“It’s not a game.  It’s not just some random impulsive mistake for me.  And if you do this again, you can’t ask me to forget it in the morning.  I won’t be able to pretend,” he warns her. 

“Okay,” she whispers, nodding resolutely. 

He waits for her to tell him they should both just get some sleep, but she’s not moving away.  In fact, she seems to be leaning in closer. 

“I don’t,” she says. 

He frowns, but doesn’t pull away. 

“You don’t, what?” he asks, and his breath moves the soft wispy hairs around her forehead. 

She leans in until her lips are next to his ear. 

“See myself marrying him anymore,” she whispers. 

Before he can reply, she turns her face and for the fourth time that night, her lips are on his. It’s not angry or rushed like their last kiss. 

It’s not brief and teasing like the ones before it.  It’s perfect. 

Her lips are so soft, and they move agonizingly slowly against his.  Her fingers are playing with the hair on the nape of his neck and massaging the skin underneath, and he couldn’t pull away now if he wanted to.  He feels her tongue dart out and sweep feather light across his lower lip, and he groans against her mouth.  She smiles in response, and she does it again.  This time he opens his mouth and their tongues meet.   

He sees stars.   

He’s honestly amazed he hasn’t blacked out at this point, because Pam is still smiling against his lips and her fingers are still combing through his hair.  He realizes suddenly that his hands are resting stock-still on her back, and instantly they spring to life.  He moves them up to touch the hair that he thinks about constantly.  He manages to snap open the clip pinning it back without looking.  He buries his fingers in her soft curls and can’t help it when his kisses become more frantic and heated. 

She moans and he just about dies on the spot.   

Any reservations he has about what she meant about her feelings being real, or what she’s going to tell Roy tomorrow fly from his mind.  He loses himself completely and he has no idea how long they’ve been kissing when her hands gently push on his shoulders.  He reluctantly allows his lips to part from hers, and as he pulls back he has to blink a few times before he can focus on her. 

She’s smiling. 

He did not expect that. 

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before speaking. 

“Let’s talk,” she says. 

Talk?  About what?  After that kiss, he feels like talking is highly overrated. 

“Really talk,” she adds. 

Oh. 

Oh! 

She wants to really talk.  Not to come up with excuses.  Not to explain things away.  To really talk.  She’s ready. 

“Let’s go over to the couch,” she suggests.  

She’s already in the living room before he snaps out of his daze and manages to lift himself from the kitchen chair.   

They’re really going to do this. 

Oh my god.