He was pretty sure that drinking on the job was a bad idea.
Then changed his mind.
He watched as Meredith leaned conspiratorily over the reception desk, he was resonably certain that she was adding a little "extra" to Pam's Margarita. He finished off what was left of his.
She caught his eye across the room and shrugged.
The Happy Birthday Michael ! signs had started to droop, and Stanley, Phyliss and Angela had already taken off. Michael had fallen asleep, his head on his keyboard, with Dwight standing guard outside his office.
He sat down next to her, too warm to be completely sober.
"So, you think Margarita Friday's will become a regular thing?"
"Umm . . . I don't know. Michael doesn't do well with Tequila" she said.
"Your cute when your slurring your speech" he said with a hint of a smile.
"Yeah?" she said the bottom of her her paper cup making a ring on her skirt.
Her gaze was unwavering, the freckle's on her cheeks very clear under the flourescent lights.
Suddenly her knee was very warm next to his, her lips too close. The seconds streched out before them, and he thought about doing the unthinkable, the reality of it making it hard to breath. She bit her lip, and he half expected that she could read his mind.
"Hey Pam, you ready to go?" Roy said, breaking the momentary spell.
He watched her take Roy's hand and imagined that it was his own.
Author's Chapter Notes:
I am a little Jim crazy right now.
