She felt ashamed. He was disappointed in her and it made her feel…less. The way he looked at her that day in the kitchen – the concern mixed with frustration on his face, it pulled at something inside of her. Made her feel unsure and small and sometimes, angry. Because…what the hell? Who was he to tell her how to live her life, to question her choices? He didn’t understand what it was like to have to live your live along side someone else’s. To consider their feelings and how things affect your life together and just…god. Maybe someday he’d know. You can’t be selfish in a relationship.

Deep down though, she knows it’s not about that. She would never admit it out loud, she wouldn’t dare say it to Roy or Jim, but it’s not about her future with Roy or being selfish. It’s about considering more for yourself, not being afraid to leave your comfort zone, try for something more. Jim wanted that for her and that was, well, decidedly unselfish.

So she was conflicted. She sees him at work and sometimes she feels a flash of anger towards him because she doesn't owe him an explanation, but she feels like she does. The thought of his disappointment, disapproval, makes her stomach twist and her nerves stand on end and she doesn’t know why. No one else in her life makes her feel this way, and she can’t put her finger on it. Or, maybe she just doesn’t want to.

Other times she sees him though and it’s just…overwhelming. She wants to pull him into the hallway or up to the roof and just...talk to him. Tell him the things that never make it to the surface, the things that keep her up at night. That she thinks of changing things, starting over. That maybe…maybe she wasn’t okay with her choices afterall. She wants to tell him these things because he makes her feel safe when she’s near him, in a different way than Roy does. Roy makes her feel protected, watched over. And sometimes that’s nice. But Jim makes her feel like she can tell him things and he won’t judge her, hold it over her. She could open up to him and he would listen, and make her laugh, make her feel lighter. Sometimes it feels like pressure against her chest to keep from opening up to him, and just….letting go.

Avoiding him provides to be tricky though. Because he’s ten feet away from her every day, and because he’s her best friend. It’s not possible to get distance from him because her instincts say to look at him when Michael does something crazy, or lean against his desk when she has something to wants to tell someone. It’s near impossible not to join him in the breakroom for ten minutes because if she went a whole day without talking to him, really talking to him, it felt empty and lonely.

But it’s been a few days since she fought with him in the kitchen and she thinks she’s felt a shift in their friendship since then. Not tension, per se, but it’s like they’re afraid to get to close to the subject. He doesn’t ask her about any new sketches and she doesn’t mention Roy. It’s awkward when Jan stops by her desk on Tuesday to ask if she’s given the program any more thought, and she swears she sees Jim’s jaw clench when she tells Jan that she just isn’t ready yet.

So when Michael asks her to accompany Jim to pick up a cake and party decorations for Angela’s birthday (she refuses to plan her own party because it’s incredibly tacky, her words), she feels butterflies in her stomach at the thought of being alone with him. But before she can even say yes to Michael’s request Jim is up from his chair and grabbing their coats, a smile in his eyes. She can’t help but bite her lip because his enthusiasm overshadows her nerves. She pulls on her coat and follows him out to the parking lot.

********************

It’s a miserable rainy day and they run from the front doors to his car. He opens her door for her and she climbs in and shuts the door, automatically reaching across to unlock his door for him. He gets in and shuts the door and it’s just the two of them, alone in the car while the rain pounds on the windows and it suddenly feels so quiet, so intimate. A fleeting though goes through her mind that she could kiss him right here, right now, and no one would see it. The thought leaves her just as he turns to her and smiles.

“So you know, we have hours, right?” He raises his eyebrows and he looks like he’s up to something.

“Hours? Really? How long do you think it takes to get party decorations, Jim?”

He laughs, turning away to start the ignition. He rubs his hands together and holds them over the heater for a second, “Here’s the thing Pam, it’s only ten in the morning. Angela’s party won’t be until after lunch.”

“Right.”

“Right, and I’m thinking that after we pick up the cake, we’re going to have car trouble.”

She nods, catching on, “I see. And exactly what kind of car trouble?”

He shrugs, “Who knows? Flat tire? Running out of gas. Of course, we’ll have to kill some time while waiting for triple A, which could take hours in this weather, you know.”

“I’ve heard that most car related problems occur in bad weather.”

“Naturally. Have you been spending time with Dwight outside of work?”

She laughs, it’s so easy to just laugh with him, “No, I think I read it in the triple A newsletter actually”

He smiles, pulling on his seatbelt and releasing the emergency break. “So, where to?”

********************

"I had no idea that bowling alleys were open this early”, she tells him this as she’s bending over exchanging her black work shoes for a pair of ugly, size 8 bowling shoes with red and blue stripes on the sides.

“Yeah, and who knew that people actually bowl this early in the day on a weekday?”

“Well, to be fair, we’re here, so…people in glass houses and all that.”

He laughs, “Good point. I wonder if those guys over there with the cooler of beer and matching shirts are ditching work too.”

He winks at her and she feels a flush come over her. She’s ditching work. With Jim. She feels guilty for a minute, but then he picks up a pink ball and hands it to her and she can’t help but feel free and happy, “Best two out of three?”

“Absolutely.”

********************

They’re tied, one game a piece, and it’s nearly noon. They’ll have to go back to work after this, and Pam feels a pang of disappointment when she thinks of that. Her stomach growls and she realizes that she’s barely eaten anything today, and suddenly the smell of the snack bar is surprisingly appetizing.

“Hey, are you hungry? Want to eat before our last game?”

“Yeah, I’ll run up and grab us some pizza and sodas? Then I can beat you and we’ll get back to work, okay?”

She laughs, “Okay, hot shot bowler. Although I had three strikes in my last game so you might want to hold off on the smack talk.”

“I’ll make a note of that Pam, thanks.”

She watches him walk off to the snack area, and she feels oddly content. To kill time she grabs a piece of paper and pencil from her purse without even a second thought. She gets lost in sketching a picture of the family bowling in the lane next to them, and she doesn’t even hear Jim when he walks up with their lunch. He sits across from her and his eyes float down to the picture in front of her. Turning it around to get a better look, he shakes his head, “Wow. You drew this just now?”

She feels sheepish all of the sudden, even a little embarrassed, “Yeah. Just, you know, something to do while I was waiting for you.” She downplays her enjoyment of it, and she doesn’t want to think about why.

“God Pam, you’re so good at it. So much talent…” He trails off and she sees it in his eyes again, disappointment, frustration. It’s fleeting but she sees it, and suddenly feels uncharacteristically determined not to let it pass.

“Don’t do that.”

He looks up, surprised at her tone, “Don’t do what?” He’s not contrite though – he says it and it’s a challenge that he thinks she’ll back down from, but she calls his bluff.

“Don’t do that. I can see it you know, the disappointment.”

He sighs, his shoulders slumping a little, “I’m sorry. I can’t help it. It’s just that…you seemed so excited Pam. So excited. And then you talk to Roy…”

“Don’t do that,” she snaps, “Don’t. This isn’t about him.”

He looks at her and he doesn’t believe her, she knows this, but she continues, “Look. You just…it’s hard to explain. But I know what I want. I know what I need and I know that eventually….I’ll do this. I’ll take classes and do more. But just, not now.” It feels like a lie, or an empty promise but she pushes that thought out of her head. She avoids looking him in the eye, and instead focuses on the figure eights she's outlining on the table with the eraser end of her pencil.  But then she looks up for a brief second and their eyes meet, and she feels her heartbeat start to race.

He doesn’t say anything, but he’s looking at her and it’s familiar and different and nearly suffocating. It’s not mean or judgemental, but it’s like he’s on the edge of something and it seems to stretch on for a long time. She keeps talking because sometimes the silence between them says more than their words ever could and that scares her, “I just need you to back me up here, Jim. We’re not always going to agree with each other’s choices in life, but I’d like to know that I have your support no matter what decisions I make.”

He nods, his expression softening, and he clears his throat, “Yeah. I get that. Look, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to push you. Just, don’t ever give up on it Pam, okay?” He's leaning closer across the table, his hands just inches from hers.  

She pulls back and nods because she’s afraid that if she speaks she’ll cry, and she blinks her eyes while looking away for a second, quickly dabbing the corner of her eye with the cuff on her sweater.

His slaps his hand on the table two times before standing up, “Alright Beesly. Game number three. The championship game. Are you ready? Think you can handle the pressure?”

She smiles and stands up, “Whatever. Bring it. Oh and don’t forget which lane is ours.”

“One time Pam. One time I throw it into the other lane. You distracted me by laughing, and the ball slipped.”

She scoffs, “Yeah, excuses excuses. Talk about handling the pressure.”

********************

By the end of the day, things are the same. They get back to work and Dwight writes them up, and Jim laughs and throws his copy in her trashcan while leaning over her desk. They eat cake during Angela’s party and laugh at Michael doing the electric slide in the middle of the conference room. It’s normal. It’s them.

She goes home at night and stares at the ceiling while Roy snores next to her in bed. Her eyes are dry and she lays there, her breathing steady. She thinks about the chances she doesn’t take. Thinks about him and opportunity and being fine with her choices. Her last thought before drifting off is that it she shouldn’t have to convince herself, too.