It's not a date. Really, it just makes sense that they go together. It's not a date; it's practical, pragmatic, sensible even. They both want to see this movie, and neither of them knows anyone else who would want to go. They asked around. Really. It's way too early; they are just learning to be comfortable again. So it's not a date. Really.

Really.

They get to the mall too early, accidentally; it is in no way an attempt to spend more time together. (Seriously, it's not.) They kill time at a bookstore, skimming through shelved aisles.

Pam wanders around the end of a shelf and into the next aisle. She's intent on the oversize photography books and doesn't realize someone is standing next to her until he clears his throat and starts to engage her in conversation. He's average height, still taller than her, and built like someone who enjoys the gym. Ordinarily, she'd have been distantly polite, but he's knowledgeable about the photographer whose book she's holding, and it's nice to talk with someone who shares her interests.

She's surprised when he asks her to have dinner with him. She's always surprised lately when men ask her out. For years she spoke freely and didn't worry about censoring herself or that her behavior might be misinterpreted. Apparently, the absence of a diamond on her left hand makes a big difference in the way men perceive her. She feel naive and a little stupid.

When he asks her out, she becomes hyper-aware of the pin-drop silence a shelf width away. She smiles and attempts to extricate herself from the situation gracefully. She should have known better; she's never been allowed a graceful exit. The inevitable words asking about the presence of a boyfriend leave his mouth, and the silence an aisle away listens.

She's nervous and starting to feel sick. Things have been going so well (even though it's not a date), and she's not sure why, but she knows that she has to get these words right. If she doesn't, it will set them back (and she'd like them to go on a date eventually). Silent deliberation and she settles on "unavailable" to describe her status.

Unfortunately, he's the type of guy who takes it personally when a girl declines his invitation, and he won't be put off by vague explanation. Seriously, how does she end up in these situations? She decides she's annoyed now. She's been polite and friendly, and she has done nothing wrong. She's talked to this guy for less than 10 minutes; they aren't even on a first name basis, and he's demanding explanations from her that she doesn't want to give and putting her in an awkward situation.

The large book thuds when she places it back on the shelf. She turns to head back to the untitled silent presence who is the only person she wants to spend time with, and the guy her brain has labeled Tactless Annoyer grabs her arm and makes a statement about how walking away during conversation is rude that she might find ironically humorous if she weren't startled, angry, and a little scared. She hates that her voice shakes when she tells him to let go of her, but then it's ok. The silent presence is no longer a shelf width away, but behind her, warm and strong and support.

The guy's focus shifts from her to up and behind her. Because it's the language this guy knows, Jim's arm wraps her waist, and his hand lands at her hip. An insincere apology mutters out of Annoyer's mouth and he drops Pam's arm.

When he's gone, she relaxes against Jim and looks up. His arm squeezes her protective and a little possessive. They're still unsure about so many things though, and he drops his arm and steps back. Because it's not a date.

He comments that if she wants Twizzlers, they have to leave now because he is not missing previews to stand in the concession line with her. Then he tells her to tell the next Loser that she's either a nun or has the bird flu because, without fail, all guys are afraid either of God or avian viruses. She laughs her Jim laugh, and he smiles his Pam smile and holds the door for her. They walk closer than before heading down to the movie theater.

But it's still not a date. Really.