“Jim, no. That is NOT an option.”

“The menu I'm looking at begs to differ, Pam.”

“Jim...” She flashed him an exasperated look. “There are thirty different flavors of cheesecake here. Thirty! You can't get plain!”

“I'm not getting plain,” he replied smoothly, the corners of his mouth tipping upward at their continued argument. “I'm having cherries on it. That makes it no longer plain.”

Pam huffed and pushed her a strand of hair behind her left ear. “It is still a plain piece of cheesecake.”

Their waiter appeared at their table. “You guys decide yet?”

“I have,” Jim replied cheerfully.

“No, we haven't,” Pam said at the exact same time. She looked up at the dark-haired, attractive staff member who had been so attentive to them during their drawn out dinner and drinks. “Jay, tell him he can't get plain cheesecake. We are at the Cheesecake Factory for heavens' sake!”

Jay the waiter tilted his head. “I think I'll give you guys a few more minutes,” he grinned, carefully stepping away from the table.

Jim chuckled at his diplomatic reply. He had no doubt Jay had heard this type of argument before. He put his menu down and scooted a little closer to Pam in the semi-circle booth. “Now tell me again why there is plain cheesecake listed but we really aren't allowed to order it.”

Pam gave him a stern look, like a teacher repeating for the millionth time a lesson her student should have learned ages ago. Her demeanor couldn't help but soften, however, when he reached over and pushed back the same errant strand of hair she had tried to fix moments ago.

“Because,” she began, involuntarily leaning into the feeling of his warm hand against her cheek, “there are just so many delicious-sounding different types to try that it's a waste to buy an uninteresting flavor.”

He moved his hand from her cheek to her shoulder and then trailed it down her back as he moved even closer. “But what if regular cheesecake sounds delicious to me? What if that's what I want?”

“But you can get that anywhere,” Pam complained. “I want to try something different.”

“I didn't say you had to order it.”

“Yeah, but....” Pam trailed off, staring down at her menu. “If you get something good, then I can try that one too.”

“Oooh.....” Jim practically drawled, the true reason behind her protests finally clear. “I see the problem now. You, Miss Beesly, are just being greedy.”

“I am not!” She protested as her slight blush gave her away. “I just think you shouldn't waste an opportunity to try something new.”

“And you shouldn't waste an opportunity to try two somethings new?”

She giggled guiltily. “Maybe.”

He pulled her tightly to his side and kissed her temple. “Pam, Pam, Pam,” he teased. “Whatever are we going to do with you?”

“Humor me?” She grinned up at him.

Jim smiled back at her, with that affectionate and indulgent look that always told her she had won. Won in so many ways. “Which one do you recommend?” He said, resigned to his fate.

She pushed her menu towards him, her plan unfolding. “Well, we definitely should try one of the chocolate ones, don't you think?”

“Oh definitely,” he deadpanned.

“Shut up,” she nudged him.

He laughed again, and reached for his beer. “Okay, which one though? What about the chocolate mousse one?”

“That's okay, but how about the chocolate tuxedo cream cheesecake?” She began to read the description out loud. “Layers of our fudge cake, chocolate cheesecake, vanilla mascarpone mousse and chocolate.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“It sounds amazing.”

“Okay, Kelly.”

“Hey!”

Jim winched as she smacked him. “Fine, fine. I take it back. Tuxedo cheesecake it is.”

“Thanks,” she smiled, leaning into him. “I bet you'll love it.”

“I bet it's impossibly rich.”

“That too,” she agreed happily.

Jim watched as she continued to study the menu, amazed that after already spending over fifteen minutes reading it she was still looking. “So what will you order?” He finally prompted her.

“I'm torn,” she admitted with a sigh.

“Between?”

“Well, on the one hand the coconut creme chocolate chip cheesecake is calling me, because you know how much I love coconut...”

“I do,” he nodded.

“But Crazy Craig's carrot cake cheesecake sounds sooo good too!”

Jay cautiously approached their table again. “You guys fight it out?”

Jim nodded and indicated it was safe to come closer. “Yes, I'm afraid a simple slice of cheesecake is not in the cards tonight.”

“It usually isn't,” Jay replied with a wink. “What can I get you?”

“He'll have the chocolate tuxedo cheesecake,” Pam replied. “But I'm still stuck between two choices.”

“Which ones?” Jay asked.

Jim pulled the menu from her hands and passed it to the waiter. “Get both, Pam.”

“Both?” Pam's squeaked.

“You'll spend the rest of the night wondering how the other one tasted, no matter which one you choose.”

“True,” she admitted sheepishly. “But that's a lot of cheesecake.”

“You can take home what you don't finish,” Jay encouraged.

“Okay,” Pam laughed. “Twist my arm.”

She pointed out her two selections, following it up with a request for another pomegranate margarita when he got the chance. She snuggled up to Jim as they waited for their desserts.

“I can't believe we just ordered three slices of cheesecake,” she marveled.

“I can,” he replied, sipping his beer.

“Shut up,” she grimaced. “We're on vacation.”

“I know,” he replied earnestly. “That's why I said you should get both.”

“Hmm,” she mused, thanking the waiter as he placed a new margarita in front of her. “I thought you were making a crack about my never ending love of sweets.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Well that amazes me too, sometimes,” he teased. “But tonight's a special occasion. That's why I said to have both.”

“It has been fun, hasn't it?” Pam said. “I'm kinda sad we have to go home tomorrow.”

Jim and Pam had been in Providence over the last four days for the New England Office Supply Expo. Dunder Mifflin had decided that pushing east was the best way to keep the company growing, and Jim was their choice of representative to make that first break into the market. Jim had not been looking forward to spending nearly a week at another boring convention, until he found out that Pam could come along as his assistant. Then the whole idea morphed from just another boring work-related event into a mini-vacation. They had been booked into the hotel next to the convention center, the very expensive Westin Providence, and despite having to spend the daytime hours in meetings about the future of soy-based inks and recyclable paper and all the new advancements at 3M, the evenings were theirs to enjoy. And enjoy them they did.

Neither of them had ever been to Rhode Island, so they didn't know what to expect. But the combination of the rich architectural history and the bustling downtown life captivated both of them, and they had spent the last two nights sightseeing and talking about how much there was still to see and experience in the world, and the places they hoped to find time to explore together. They both knew that while they were speaking in generalities, their conversation was hinting of more serious, important things.

“Well, there's no reason we can't come back here someday,” Jim finally replied. “It's not that far a drive, really.”

“I know,” Pam nodded. “But Scranton is really going to seem backwards after spending time here.”

Jim laughed and laced his fingers through hers as her hand rested on his thigh under the table. “I thought you liked backwards.”

“I think it's more that I'm used to backwards,” she said slowly.

“But you're open to forwards now?”

“I'm open to forwards,” she nodded, glancing up at him. “Granted, not by myself though.”

He tightened his fingers around her encouragingly. “Of course not,” he replied, lifting her hand up to kiss her palm. “You're not getting out of my sight. But maybe we ended up at this conference for a reason.”

Jay the waiter arrived with their cheesecakes and the conversation that was slowly turning so serious was put on hold as they sampled the different flavors.

“Glad you didn't get plain cheesecake now?” Pam asked. She was still recovering from the experience of her first taste of the coconut creme cheesecake. “This stuff is like heaven.”

“They are very nice,” Jim admitted. “But I'm sure the original version would have been good too.”

“Stubborn,” Pam muttered.

“Just like you,” he replied softly, taking a bite of the chocolate sample this time.

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, the only words between them consisting of Pam's mumbled approval of each cheesecake and Jim's amusement at her delight.

“Here, now try the carrot cake one,” she encouraged, lifting the fork toward his lips.

“I can feed myself, you know,” he teased, accepting the sample she offered.

“It tastes better this way,” she replied. She speared another piece for herself and relished it slowly as she watched for his reaction. “Well?”

“Very nice,” he replied. “But I think I'll be happy just watching you eat it.”

“Why?”

“You look like you are having a religious experience when you eat it.” Jim laughed. “It's borderline obscene, if I'm being honest.”

“I'm not!” Pam protested, her cheeks flushing. “I'm just trying to savor it.”

“I can see that,” he teased. “You are an exceptional savorer.”

“Stop it,” she pouted, putting down her fork.

Jim nuzzled up against the side of her neck. “Oh go on,” he said softly. “You're not a quitter, are you?”

She quickly glanced up at him, her intended glare melting into a exasperated giggle. “Do I look like a quitter to you?” She backed up her challenge with a large bit of the tuxedo chocolate cheesecake, which resulted in another chuckle from Jim.

“I love you,” he said, kissing her temple again. “I really, really do.”

Mouth full of cheesecake, her only response was to lean back into his kiss, but it was enough.

“Did you want to stop by the design school tomorrow before we leave?” He asked.

Pam took a slip of her margarita before answering. “Do we have time?”

“I don't see why not,” he replied. “It's only about a five hour drive back.”

“Cheesecakes okay?” Jay interrupted.

Pam nodded while Jim pushed his now empty bottle toward the waiter. “Another Stella, please,” he requested.

“No problem,” Jay replied, disappearing back into the crowd milling around the bar.

“But it's Sunday,” Pam continued. “It's not like it's going to be open.”

“Yeah but the museum is,” Jim countered.

“How do you know that?”

“I saw a brochure for it in the hotel lobby. I picked up a copy.”

“Well, that was convenient.”

“It was. So do you want to go?”

“Sure,” she nodded. “Might as well go see how the other half lives.”

“You could apply there, you know,” Jim said as his beer arrived.

“No, I couldn't,” she replied.

“Why couldn't you?”

“Jim, do you know how talented you have to be to get into the Rhode Island School of Design? I mean, seriously!”

“I am serious.”

Pam shook her head. “And even if somehow I did manage it, do you know how expensive it is?”

“It's not that expensive to at least apply,” he replied, taking a sip of his beer.

Pam was quiet a moment, then looked up at him. “Did you notice how many minor league sports teams are here in Providence?” She asked.

“I did notice that, actually,” he nodded.

Jim knew immediately what she was doing. It was yet another round of a conversation they had been having for months now: The 'I'll take a chance if you do, too' dialogue. It wasn't so much an argument as a gentle pushing contest. They knew each other well enough to know that encouragement and support in each other's dreams had to be applied in just the right doses. Neither of them were the type to jump confidently into the unknown, but slowly they were both working up the courage to do something together. It was a dance only the two of them seemed to understand, but it was slowly working.

“I bet they have quite a few people covering sporting events around here,” she continued.

“They probably do,” he agreed.

“I bet it wouldn't be too hard to get a foot in the door at this level,” she mused.

“Well, you'd probably need some sort of writing degree,” he countered.

“True,” she said. “And there are only about a dozen colleges in this area that would offer that sort of thing.”

“I doubt there are a dozen.”

“There are enough of them, though.”

Jim reached for his beer again. “I suppose all I'd need was one that would take me.”

Pam smiled. “I have no doubt there would be more than one school happy to accept you.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged and took another sip. “Maybe I can look into it.”

Pam reached up and kissed his cheek. “Ready to get out of here?”

“Sure, but you've still got cheesecake to eat.”

“We can take it with us,” she replied. “They can box it up and we'll have it later.”

“In a hurry to get back, are we?”

“It's a nice room,” she replied with a slight raise of her eyebrow. “Might as well make the most of it before we leave tomorrow.”

“Might as well,” he repeated slowly, his voice deepening with each word. He tightened the arm that was around her back, his fingers brushing against her hip possessively. “But are you sure you're not going to just spiral into a sugar coma by the time we get there?”

“Are you saying you don't have what it takes to keep me awake?”

Jim's laughter barked deep and loud. It was loud enough to catch the attention of the two tables closest to them, resulting in stares that made Pam double over in giggles.

“Nice one,” she scolded playfully, “You are going to get us thrown out of here.”

“As if that's not something you're used to,” he shot back.

Minutes later the remainder of their dessert was whisked off to be packaged, and Pam was finishing off the last of her margarita. She noticed Jim pick one of the cocktail napkins off the table, fold it neatly in half, and tuck it into his wallet, which he'd retrieved from his pocket to pay the bill.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

Jim gave her a puzzled look. “Nothing?”

“Why did you put that napkin in your wallet?”

Jim, who had been maintaining eye contact with her up to that point, glanced down at the table, then across the room to the bar. “No reason,” he replied.

“No reason?” Pam smiled, immediately picking up on his slight discomfort.

He shrugged and picked up his empty beer bottle, peeling the corner of the white label from the green glass with this thumb.

“You going to save it, aren't you? Like a souvenir?”

“So?”

“Jim, it's a blank napkin. It could be from anywhere.”

“I'll remember where it's from.”

“Wow. Exactly how many other blank paper napkins do you have at home, each with their own story?”

“Why are you giving me such a hard time?”

“I guess I just didn't realize the depths of your need to save things.”

“I didn't hear you complaining a few Christmases ago,” he reminded her, successfully pulling off the Stella Artois label.

“Are you keeping that too?” She teased.

“Shut up,” he replied. “And yes, I am.”

“You're adorable,” she grinned, reaching over to take his hand.

He pulled away from her grasp. “Uh-uh. You don't get to make fun of me and hold my hand.”

“I'm not making fun of you,” she replied, sliding along the bench closer to him.

Jim slide a bit closer to the end, trying to keep space between them. “No? Then I can't wait to see what you making fun of me sounds like.”

Pam would not be denied, however, and pushed up next to him. “I swear, I'm not.” She wrapped her arm through his. “It's one of the things I love about you.”

Jim merely grunted, but a slight smile played about his lips.

“Actually, you might like to know that I've had that boggle timer you gave me in my suitcase this whole weekend.”

“Why?” His look of astonishment spoke volumes. “What for?”

It was Pam's turn to shrug. “I dunno. It was on my dresser and it caught my eye when I was packing,” she paused, “and I guess I thought maybe it would come in useful.”

“Useful? For what?”

Pam was spared the need to reply as Jay came back to the table with their wrapped up cheesecakes and the bill.

“I figured between the two of us we could find a game to play with it,” she said as Jay walked away with Jim's credit card.

Jim's eyebrows practically disappeared into his hairline as he looked down at her. “You're insane,” he replied.

Pam gave him a mischievous smile. “So does that mean you don't want to play?”

“I didn't say that,” Jim sighed as he put his arm around her again. “I'm always happy to play with the crazy woman.”