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Story Notes:
I have this in mind as a snapshot of different days of the week and the colors of the rainbow, which, conveniently, are both seven in number. Some will be fun, others...not so much. I have it all outlined but not entirely written, so I'm hoping to get something posted every couple of days.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Standard disclaimers apply. Just having fun.

This one takes place right after the Dundies.
* * *



Sunday





So I kissed Jim the other night. At the Dundies.

I was drunk, so I can blame it on that. And strictly speaking, it’s not really a lie; I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t have let it happen otherwise. But it wasn’t really impulsive. I’ve been wondering what it would be like for a long time. If he would kiss me back. If his lips were as soft as they looked.

They were.

I should be really embarrassed, and I guess I am, but mostly I’m kind of glad. I wanted to know and now I do and it was…nice. Better than nice. Even though he was too surprised to really kiss me back. Much.

He’d met me halfway, though; pressed his lips against mine for just a second. And now I keep thinking about that and wondering if it means anything.

There have been a few times that I’ve seen him looking at me with an expression I can only describe as longing. It’s a look that makes my stomach tighten, my skin tingle.

I wonder if he’s ever dreamed about me. If he’s ever thought about me on the weekends, wondered what I was doing.

I have.


* * *


I usually did my grocery shopping on Sundays. It was an opportunity to get out of the house while Roy was watching football, and it gave me some time to myself that he didn’t question. During Eagles games were the best times, when the stores were comparatively deserted and the whole process a lot more relaxing. I sometimes ran into people I knew, but it was mostly a chance to be alone. That day, though, the Sunday after the Dundies, I saw Jim in produce.

We seldom saw each other outside of work and for an instant I didn’t recognize him, unshaven and rumpled as he was. He looked different with a two-day scruff; older, less boyish. He was wearing jeans and a gray Boston College t-shirt over one of those white waffle-weave thermal shirts, and I paused for a moment to watch him, smiling at his expression as he contemplated the apples and pears, scratching thoughtfully at his chin, an uncertain frown creasing his forehead.

He hadn’t seen me, and he didn’t appear to be with anyone. I strolled toward him in an oblique line, pretending not to notice him until I practically knocked into his cart. “Oh, sorry…hey, Jim!” I feigned surprise, feeling ridiculous and transparent and inexplicably shy.

“Pam!” His eyes lit up, green and warm and friendly, and I felt a familiar happy warm glow at the way he looked at me, his obvious delight to see me. “How are you?” He turned away from the fruit display and bent down to give me a hug.

“Great, just doing some shopping.” I smiled up at him and squeezed him tight for just a second too long before releasing him. “What are you doing here? You’ll miss the game.”

“It’s a bye week, Pam. Didn’t Roy tell you?” he teased.

“Oh…yeah.” I shrugged. It didn’t matter if the Eagles were playing or not; Roy would watch any game, any team. “You just get here?” I asked, glancing a question at the empty cart parked beside his hip.

“Yeah. You?” He squinted at my cart, empty too, and broke into a smile. “Cool, you can shop with me,” he said casually.

“Yeah, totally.” I shivered with clandestine thrill at the thought of an hour with Jim, outside of work, alone. I could count the number of times that had happened on one hand.

“Excellent.” He clapped his hands together once and turned back to the display, gesturing to the rows of red delicious and Granny Smith apples beside green Anjou and amber Bosc pears. “Okay, so… I need your advice. Apples or pears?”

“Apples,” I nodded.

Wow. Very prompt decision.” He smiled, reaching for a plastic bag. “So…red or green?”

“Red. Green apples are for baking.”

“Really. You can’t eat a green apple just on its own?” he asked doubtfully, picking up two small members of the red delicious variety and rolling them around in his palm like those zen stress-balls before dropping them into the bag.

“Jim.” I shook my head in sad disapproval. “Maybe you should stick to bananas and oranges. Things you know.”

He gave me a sly sidelong glance. “You wound me, Beesly. You know how I like to live on the edge. Always trying new things, pushing the boundaries,” he smirked, adding a couple more to his bag before dropping it into his cart. “What are you gonna do? Nectarines are out of season,” he teased.

I couldn’t quite suppress a smile. He remembers my favorite fruit. “Apples are good enough.” I motioned at him to move aside so I could pick out a few.

He took a step to the side, but it wasn’t quite far enough; I brushed against him twice as I made my selections. Neither of us spoke or made any effort to widen the space between us until I’d slowly filled a bag with more apples than Roy and I would eat in a month.

“You could’ve just gotten one of those,” he said in a low voice, gesturing to the prepackaged five-pound sacks beside the shelves of loose fruit.

My throat went dry. “Everybody knows those are full of the rotten ones,” I joked lamely.

“That’s so not true,” he laughed, backing off a step. “You gotta have more faith, Pam.” He grinned and motioned to the deli. “I need lunchmeat.”

“Ham and cheese?” I mocked, turning my cart to follow him.

“Yep.”

“I dare you to eat something totally different this week,” I challenged.

Jim lifted his eyebrows. “Like what?”

I tapped my chin with my finger, considering. “Peanut butter and jelly.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Couldn’t it be something different that I like?”

I goggled in pretend shock. “You don’t like peanut butter and jelly? Are you sure you’re from this country?”

“What about turkey? Turkey and provolone. That’s branching out.” He gestured to the deli wall.

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t bother.”

“Well, if you’re gonna be like that, I’ll just get what I really want.” He plucked a package of sliced ham and another of swiss off the refrigerated wall of meat and cheese and tossed it into his cart.

“I’m disappointed in you, Jim,” I sighed, shaking my head sadly but unable to keep from grinning as I turned to the salad wall.

He was right behind me, expressing amazement that I was still willing to chop up a head of romaine myself instead of buying one of those pre-washed bags, and giving me grief about my firm disinterest in habanero peppers. I just laughed at him and went to turn the corner when he suggested I try the bonillo rolls from the bakery.

I shook my head. “Roy only likes white bread.”

“Oh.” He shrugged, his smile fading a little. “Doesn’t mean you can’t try something different,” he said lightly.

“Maybe you’re right." I fingered a bag of the rolls in question. “I guess I just like my routine.”

He smiled. It was fond and thoughtful and a little…sad?, but then his eyes brightened and his expression turned mischievous. “I’ll make you a deal, Beesly. We each try something new every week. Before you know it we’ll be hip like Kelly.”

I laughed. “I don’t ever want to be as hip as Kelly, thanks,” I said dryly. “So… if I buy these rolls, you have to put back the ham and cheese.”

“No, see, I don’t eat apples normally, so, I’ve already got my new thing.” He made his I-win face.

I just shook my head and rolled my eyes. But he smiled when I put the rolls in my cart.

* * *

By the time we got to the coffee and cereal aisle, my curiosity got the better of me. “Boston College?”

“Hmm?” He was a really thoughtful shopper. He’d been studying the cornflake options for nearly five minutes.

“Boston College,” I repeated. “Your shirt?”

He glanced down at his chest, then back up at me with a smile. “Oh. Yeah. My dad went there.”

“You never told me that.” For some reason it still surprised me to realize there were a lot of things I didn’t know about Jim.

“I’m a man of great mystery, Beesly.” He flashed me a grin and turned back to the cereal. After all that deliberation, he picked the regular plain Kellogg’s variety.

“I bet,” I deadpanned. “Hey, um…grab me a box of that Cranberry Almond Crunch?” I pointed at the red box on the top shelf and tried not to think about the fact that I had a nearly-full box at home.

“As you wish.” He arched a teasing eyebrow at me. There were a few boxes missing, and he had to stretch up a little to get one, his layered shirts riding up a bit to reveal a thin white strip of stomach above his jeans. I caught a glimpse of dark hair, a contour of abdominal muscle, for just an instant before he was turning back around to me. “Here you go.” He set the box in my cart with a flourish, regarding me quizzically as he looked into my face.

“Thank you.” Was I blushing? It felt like I was blushing. I turned and pretended to debate the tea selections until I felt his gaze shift away and he was pushing his cart down the aisle. “Okay, Beesly, Café Verona or Sumatran?” he called.

I shook my head. “Gold Coast.”

He pressed his lips together in an approving smile. “Definitely.”


* * *


We were parked three rows apart, but he came to my car first to help me load up. “Nice trunk,” he smirked, gazing in amusement at the piles of camping gear Roy was supposed to have put back in the basement a month ago. “You really think there’s room for all this?”

“Spare me the editorial and show me your packing skills.” I rolled the tent against the backseat, using a gallon of milk to hold it in place. “Roy doesn’t like getting his truck scratched up with this stuff,” I explained.

Jim didn’t say anything. He never did. Still, the look on his face made me feel weird. Defensive, ashamed, embarrassed. Sometimes I hated him a little for making me feel so confused and uncertain--and then hated myself for being resentful of him, because Jim was a true friend, someone who would always be only a phone call away.

Why was everything so complicated with him?

“I have mad packing skills,” he asserted finally, gently elbowing me out of the way. “Watch this.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and stood back to let him at it, watching his shoulders move under his shirt as he stacked the bags in neat rows, heavy stuff in the back, bread up front where it wouldn’t get crushed. “Nice,” I conceded. “You’re a man of many talents.”

“Thank you.” He shut the trunk and leaned against his cart. “I’ll have you know I’m surprisingly organized.”

“I do not believe that,” I scoffed. “I’ve seen your desk.”

“My desk is not my house,” he retorted with a smile, and then cleared his throat. “So, I was thinking of having a house party in a couple weeks. Invite everybody from the office.”

“Everybody?” I lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

“Except Michael, of course,” he amended.

“Dwight? You’d invite Dwight into your house?” I laughed.

“Sure.” He shrugged. “My roommate thinks I’m making him up, so…anyway… would you come?”

“Yeah, of course.” I’d never seen Jim’s house. Suddenly I was extremely curious about his roommate, his house, his things. His life. There was so much I didn’t know.

“Cool.” His smile was wide and happy. “So, I’ll, uh, keep you posted. And here’s something for the road.” He reached into a bag and pulled out a Snickers bar. “Bon appetit.”

I grinned. “My favorite! Jim! Thank you. Split it with me?”

“Sure.” He watched me with obvious amusement as I opened it up and twisted off half of it. “You keep the wrapper,” he laughed, downing his half in two big bites and licking chocolate off his thumb. “Thanks for sharing. See you tomorrow, Pam,” he said warmly, strolling off to his own car.

I nibbled at the candy bar, watching from the car as he loaded his groceries into his trunk, and forced myself to drive away before he caught me sitting there staring at him.

When I got home I licked the Snickers wrapper clean, folded it in half, and tucked it into my wallet.



* * *
Chapter End Notes:
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