He hadn’t actually expected Halpert to take him up on the suggestion of playing basketball on Saturdays, but either he’d miscalculated how into basketball the guy was or something was on his mind, because now he was there every Saturday—and for all Roy wanted to deny it, Halpert was pretty freaking good. He’d known it for a while, of course. This was how they’d met, at first, and then he’d had that reminder a few years back at the office basketball game. He’d taken Halpert a pretty good shot in the nose that time, he remembered, which helped him avoid doing the same as the guy raised for a three over him and (of course) it went right down.

He jogged down the court on offense, set a screen, and thought about Halpert. Not that he wanted to think about Halpert, but the guy was right here, and he’d been acting all weird and twitchy lately. Even Roy could see it, and hell, he didn’t give two shits for Halpert. He grinned. Maybe that new saleslady wasn’t as into him as he’d thought, or maybe she was saving herself for marriage or something. Poor little Jimmy Halpert.

Or maybe, he thought as he grabbed a rebound, upfaked on Halpert, then slid a pass into a cutting teammate for a layup, Halpert was twitchy because of something else. Hell, maybe it was Roy himself—after all, seeing went two ways, so he only saw Halpert when Halpert saw him, pretty much. But if so, that was weird in its own way, because he didn’t remember Halpert being this weird around him before he left, and back then he’d definitely had a crush on Pammy. Why would it be weirder now?

Like, he didn’t have great instincts—he knew that. Not just about Pammy (he still wasn’t entirely sure why she’d broken up with him) but on the court too, he thought, as Halpert’s teammate faked a pass, got him entirely out of position, and drove to the hoop. He wasn’t one of those guys who could see behind him like he had eyes in the back of his head, or who knew exactly where the ball was going before it went there. He had a little affinity for rebounds, he thought as he grabbed another one and fed it outside to one of the guards, but that was mostly size; he could get low with a lot of body mass and box out, then explode up to grab the ball as it came by. He wasn’t a wizard who could predict where it was going before the shot went up or anything.

But despite that, despite his lack of physical awareness (not that he didn’t know his own body, just…he couldn’t predict it the same way some guys could) he’d known for absolute dead certain that Jimmy Halpert had been staring at the back of his head during the whole office Christmas party yesterday. And it was weird, because he didn’t seem to be staring when he did look. Hell, he’d come over and given Halpert shit about today’s game because he liked making the guy uncomfortable. And then Halpert had barely met his eyes as he muttered something about “watch the three point line.” Speaking of which…damn. Another three, and they were trudging back down court with Halpert’s team up on his by five.

When his head was turned though? Then he’d just felt Halpert’s eyes on his skull 24/7. Especially when he’d given Pammy her present. And now it felt like Halpert was working through something on the court, too. He’d looked tired when he came in, like he hadn’t slept that well, or had stayed up all night or something (hmm…maybe on second thought that saleslady wasn’t so prudish after all…). And now every time Roy guarded him down the court he was taking threes—and too damn many of them were going down. Roy took the ball, muscled down low, and went up, only to have Halpert block the shot as he went up, grab the ball, and go racing downcourt.

And yes, he pulled up for a three on the break.

Of course it went in.

Damn Halpert anyway.  He might be working through some shit, but did Halpert really have to take it out on him? He gestured to Frank, one of his friends on the team, to switch up the guarding, and jogged back down to the block. Halpert might have his own issues, but Roy’s goals were still the same: get in shape, get his head right, get Pammy back. And guarding Halpert wasn’t helping. If it was helping Halpert? That was his problem. Roy wasn’t going to get involved.

He took a pass, turned, and banked it in off the glass over the flying hand of one of Halpert’s teammates. Nice.

After the game, he showered quickly and got dressed. Time to go to one of those party supply stores Pammy’d mentioned yesterday. His mom was still pissed at him for “messing things up with Pam.” He’d get her a present anyway (she’s his mom, duh) but maybe telling her Pammy had helped him figure out how to wrap it would make her less annoyed at him.

He made sure to tell Halpert “good game” on the way out. Just to mess with him again. And hell, he had had a good game. Gotta give the devil his due.

Just as long as he kept hanging out with that pretty saleslady and stayed the hell away from Pammy.