Pam’s eyes snapped open, as they did every morning, five seconds before her alarm clock went off. It occurred to her, as it did most days (not that the days were really distinguishable in this first moment before the rest of it all came crashing in on her) that there was some extreme irony in the fact that she was always waking up in bed with Roy, even though she hadn’t gone to bed with him in (subjective) weeks. She was tired of it. Not so much tired of waking up next to Roy—he had, as he literally always did because every morning was the same, rolled over to his side of the bed and wasn’t actually impeding her waking-up process at all—but tired of being responsible for Roy, even just for the (single, unending) day. She was exhausted by it, not in her body (she was just waking up, as always, fairly refreshed) but in her soul. Every morning that she woke up next to Roy; every time she slapped the alarm because otherwise he would object; every breakfast she ate alone while waiting patiently for him to come downstairs was corrosive to her well-being, to her very self. She needed to be done with it. And that meant starting now.

She wasn’t going to wait for the perfect time to break up with Roy Anderson, because he’d shown there was no perfect time to break up with him. She’d tried everything she could to break it to him nicely, to shelter him from the situation, and dammit, she was over it and him both.

She didn’t turn off the alarm clock, and it blared again.

A grumbling Roy reached over her to slam the button down. “Geez, Pammy, how are you not up yet?” He rolled away. She briefly recalled having taken the momentary peace of not, for once, being the first one up (as in out of the bed—she was always the first to awaken) as a respite in a previous iteration of the same interaction, but she had no such plans today.

“Why should I be up, Roy?” If she didn’t say something, he’d just go into autopilot and this would just be another wasted day in a string of wasted days that stretched literally into infinity as far as she could tell or decipher. She hoped bleakly that this wasn’t all aging her, because if there was one thing worse than repeating this stupid day ad literal nauseam, it was doing it with a crick in her neck.

“You’re always the first one up.” Roy stretched and stared at her.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, Pammy.” She couldn’t tell if he was genuinely uncertain or sarcastic, until his next sentence gave it away with the cold snap of a grumpy man. “Maybe because you make breakfast so there’s no point in me being up first.”

“Why do I make breakfast?” She crossed her hands behind her head and stared up at him.

“What?”

“Why do I make breakfast?” She shrugged. “Why don’t you make breakfast?”

He looked at her strangely and then started to chuckle. “You’d hate it if I made breakfast.”

She shrugged again. “Maybe I’d like it if you actually did something in the morning.”

“I do plenty!” He glared at her. “I shower, I shave…”

“I do those things too, Roy.”

“It’s different. You’re a girl.” He raised a hand before she could speak. “Sorry, woman.” They’d had that fight—well, to Roy they’d had that fight a week ago, when he’d called her a ‘girl’ seemingly every sentence when talking to his parents on the phone, but to Pam it was much longer ago. For a moment, Pam was glad that he’d apparently internalized the lesson, until he undercut it by muttering, ostensibly under his breath, “whatever.” She rolled her eyes.

“So because I’m not a guy, I have to do more?”

“C’mon Pammy.” Roy wiped a hand through his unruly hair and sighed. “What do you want me to say, huh? You do the home stuff, and I do the work…” His eyes went wide as he realized what he’d begun to say. “I mean, I do the…other stuff.”

Her voice flat, Pam raised an eyebrow. “What other stuff?” When Roy tried the little boyish half-grin he always used to wheedle his way out of unfortunate situations, she snapped at him. “Were you going to say I do the home stuff while you work? Is that it? Do you not think I work?”

“Pammy…” Roy’s hand was busily unstraightening whatever it had straightened in the last brush through his hair.

“No, seriously, Roy, what is it you do?” Pam knew she was being a little unfair, because it wasn’t like Roy did actually nothing, but she was done with having her contributions to the household treated like they didn’t matter while whatever it was he thought he was doing was somehow so important.

“I do the grilling.”

“Once since September.”

“I fix the truck.”

“Except the last time you ‘fixed’ the truck we ended up paying double for Gary down at the Exxon station to re-fix whatever you did.”

“I…I don’t need to explain myself to you.” Roy was getting heated, even though Pam hadn’t raised her voice. But she wasn’t going to let his temper tantrum cause her to back down. She made deliberate eye contact and didn’t say anything, until his annoyance caused him to burst out again. “If I do so little, why do you even keep me around?”

“I don’t know, Roy, why do I keep you around?” For a horrified instant she worried he would answer sex and reach out for her, but apparently he was beyond actually looking for an answer. Instead he was yelling.

“Well, maybe you won’t have me to keep around, you ever think about that?” He stomped over towards the bedroom door. “Maybe that’ll make you realize how much you need me.” He stood in the doorway, not entirely aware (at least, Pam hoped he wasn’t entirely aware, for his sake) of the comic figure he cut, with his too-small Flyers t-shirt with the holes in it that he chose for who knew what reason to sleep in undercutting any pretension he might make to dignity. “If you aren’t careful, you’ll lose the best thing that ever happened to you.”

Pam took a deep breath, but it didn’t calm her heartbeat. “Meaning you, I take it?” The irony that she had spent so long in this endless day trying to “be careful” to lose Roy was not lost on her. “What if I’m OK with that?”

“You can’t be serious.” At first she wondered if he’d soften, but then she saw the anger slide back into place behind his eyes.

“Oh, I’m deadly serious.” She met his eyes again. “What if I tell you I’m done with this, Roy?”

“Then this is your fucking lucky day.” He grabbed his work clothes from the dresser and turned to face her again. “When I get home tonight, you better not fucking be here.” He seized his towel and turned towards the bathroom. “And fucking stay away from me at work, too.” He slammed the bedroom door on his way out.

Pam looked around the bedroom in Roy’s absence, and realized for the first time how little she was going to miss it. Not just because she had become sick of the endless repetition of this particular day—after all, she woke up in this bedroom most days, even if everything else wasn’t the same—but because so little of this house, this room, this existence was actually hers. There was Roy’s old clock from his childhood bedroom (even though it was on her side of the bed, so she’d have to hit the snooze button in the morning). There were the ugly dressers Roy’s mother had cleaned out of the Anderson attic into this house when they’d moved in together (insisting that “you need couple items” when Pam had mildly protested that she already had a dresser from her college dorm room). There was the pile of Roy’s athletic gear just next to the hamper (and honestly, he hadn’t actually used it in months, and yet there it was still). Not pictured? Her art supplies (stuffed under the bed so Roy wouldn’t ask her, again, how much she’d spent on them this month). Her clothes (admittedly, only because they were in the dresser and the closet, but since they never went anywhere all she had were the same dozen work-appropriate outfits and the periwinkle dress from when she’d been her cousin’s bridesmaid three years ago). Her actual art (on display at her parents’, but not here). Why not simplify: anything of hers. It was all Roy’s, or worse, that horrible hybrid that wasn’t quite “theirs” but wasn’t actually either of their preference at all. They’d never come to anything like a real compromise between their preferences; instead, all the items that were “theirs” were there because they were the easiest, the default, the least-controversial option that they had chosen after a fight. No. She was not going to miss this room in the least.

She pulled the big green suitcase her parents had moved her to college with (and back out of college with, her dad grumbling about how she could at least have lasted two years “for an associate’s”) and started to fill it. Art supplies, clothes, shoes, and she was done up here. She snatched a duffel bag up and stuffed today’s clothes and her purse in, then headed downstairs. There she added her laptop (a Christmas present from her parents two years ago), a few charging cables, her favorite mug (the rest, like the plates and silverware, were more Anderson hand-me-downs she could do without) and all the tea in the house. Then she twisted off her engagement ring and laid it on the kitchen table. It was hard to leave it—unlike Roy, ironically, the ring had become a natural part of her life—but she couldn’t look back. Not now.

Roy clomped downstairs, having apparently finished his shower and shrugged into his work clothes. “What the fuck are you doing?” he snarled. No, that was unfair; it wasn’t a snarl, it was just his normal voice. It wasn’t his fault, she supposed, or at least not his intentional fault, that she found it as unpleasant to listen to as a snarl right now.

“Leaving. You told me not to be here.”

“Too fucking right.” He stepped past her towards the door. “Well, don’t think you’re taking my truck.”

“It’s our truck, Roy. My name’s on the title just like yours.”

“Yeah, well, it’s mine.” He didn’t meet her eyes as he stood in the open doorway. She exhaled.

“We can figure it out later, Roy.”

“Whatever.” He slammed the door and she heard the telltale sound of the truck door slamming and then the engine starting up. Well, that’s that, she thought, flipped the cellphone open, and held down the 3 key. It was a secret she’d kept from Roy for a long time, actually, that she had Jim Halpert on speed-dial. She’d never actually used it before; if she needed to talk to him she usually dialed him from their home phone, because something about calling Jim on her personal cell felt like cheating. She should probably have paid attention to that feeling before now, but right now it felt perfect.

“Hey.” He didn’t bother to ask who was calling, which meant he must have her programmed into his phone as well. The thought warmed her.

“Hi. Can I ask you a favor?”

“You can ask.” She could hear the amusement in his voice.

“Can you come pick me up for work? Roy took the truck.”

“And left you there?” Jim sounded as annoyed as she would probably have felt if her whole body hadn’t been shouting finally at her in relief.

“Yup.”

“Still the same house?” This was a longstanding joke of theirs, starting from the second time Jim had dropped her off when Michael had made the office staff stay late and Roy had wanted to make his weekly poker game.

“Hasn’t changed yet.” This was her traditional answer, but she put an extra emphasis into the yet.

“I can be there in five.” Which implied he was already in the car, or else planning to blow through at least three red lights. She smiled, even though she knew he couldn’t see it.

“If you do, I’ll still be in the shower. Make it fifteen.” Even that would be a rush, but she didn’t want to miss Dwight’s discovery of the vending machine.

“You got it, Beesly.” There was a suspicious pause before his response, as if…well, as if he’d been contemplating the idea of her being in the shower.

“Thanks, Jim.” Pam giggled softly to herself, and headed upstairs with her duffel. It wouldn’t do, after all, to leave Jim waiting when he did get there.

Of course he still was waiting when she got out of the shower (having added her personal toiletries to the duffel, thanking god she hadn’t forgotten her razor in her hurry to get out of the house). She strongly suspected that despite her warning he’d still taken only five minutes to get there. But then again, that was Jim. She bounded down the walk, or at least as close to bounding as she could with the duffel over one shoulder and the big green suitcase trailing behind her. Jim stepped out of the car to open the door for her, as he always did, his eyebrows raising as he spied her luggage.

“Whoa, Beesly, I’m pretty sure Michael only specified one of each item on his list,” he teased.

She grinned up at him. “Actually,” she admitted, “I think I forgot pretty much everything on that list except the toothbrush and the bathing suit.”

“So what’s all this then?” Jim looked like he regretted asking as soon as he said it, but his curiosity had clearly gotten the better of him. She smiled over her shoulder at him as she shoved the suitcase into his trunk.

“All my worldly possessions.” She slid into the passenger’s seat as he closed the door for her and leaned over to unlatch the driver’s side for him. “I’ll explain on the way; we don’t want to miss Dwight’s discovery that you’ve stuffed all his worldly possessions into the vending machine.”

“Good call.” Jim strapped in, waited for her to finish fighting the buckle on her side, and started the car back up. “So…”

“No patience, huh, Halpert?” She winked at him, then sobered, remembering that of course he didn’t remember the last week of days for her. “So, before I get to why everything I care about is in this car, I should start by explaining that something really weird has been going on.”

“Weirder than you calling me for a ride to work with all your worldly possessions?” Jim grinned, then noticed her nodding and changed to a look of concern. “Tell me about it.”

“So for the last, like, month, I’ve been living the same day over and over again. Literally the same day. Like Groundhog Day, except it’s not February 2nd and I’m not a grumpy weatherman.”

“You’re prettier than Bill Murray.” Jim blurted, then blushed, which amazed her. “I guess that’s not much of a compliment, huh?”

“I don’t know…he does have those movie-star good looks…wait, is this Groundhog Day Bill Murray we’re talking about or now Bill Murray we’re talking about?”

“Definitely Groundhog Day.”

“Then I accept the compliment.” She smiled. “Anyway, I’ve been doing that for what feels like forever, and I think today’s the day I break out of the cycle.”

“OK. Sounds good.” Jim drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “What’s that got to do with the giant green suitcase?”

“Big.”

“What?”

“My dad calls it the big green suitcase.” Jim threw his hands up in mock frustration and she shook her head at him. “Hands on the wheel, Halpert. You’ve got precious cargo aboard.”

“I know.”

She smiled fondly at him. Did he realize how transparent he was being? Probably not, given that she’d been oblivious to his flirtations for years now. “Anyway, part of breaking out was breaking up. With Roy.” She twisted the charm on her necklace. “I may have forgotten to mention that when he took the truck he also told me that I shouldn’t be in the house when he got back tonight.”

“Jesus, Pam.” Jim rubbed the back on his neck with the hand not on the steering wheel. “Are you OK?”

“Yeah.” She smiled up at him. “I actually…I’d broken up with him five…no, six times.”

“Because of the groundhog thing?”

“Yeah. This time, though, he broke up with me, and I’m hoping that means it’ll stick.”

With a studied nonchalance that didn’t fool her in the least, Jim kept his eyes forward on the traffic as he responded. “So…uh…what do you think you might need to do to make sure that happens?”

“I’m so glad you asked.” She rubbed her hands together. “I have a list.”

“Let’s see it.” He reached a hand out for a physical list while keeping his eyes forward and she smacked his arm.

“Not a physical list! It would have reset every night. It’s up here.” She tapped her forehead. “And item one is that we need to make it into work in time for me to buy Dwight’s pencil cup out of the vending machine.”

“Why his pencil cup?”

“Sentimental reasons.”  At his questioning glance, she broke down. Was this what life with Jim was going to be like (assuming, as she was beginning to, that she did actually get to have that)? She couldn’t keep anything from the man, and they hadn’t gone on an actual date yet. “It’s what I bought the first time. And the first time I told you about the groundhog thing.”

“Wait, you’ve told me about this before?”

“Oh yeah. Jim, you’re my best friend.” She smiled at him.

“Who else have you told?”

“You…Larissa…”

“You told Larissa? How?”

“Yeah…I may have kind of gotten you to invite her to the booze cruise most of the time. Oh, by the way, Merry Christmas, our camaraderie event tonight is a booze cruise on Lake Wallenpaupack.”

“Only Michael.” He shook his head. “Is the booze good at least?”

“Two words: snorkel shots.”

“Jesus.”

They pulled into the parking lot at Dunder Mifflin and hopped out of the car.

“OK, Beesly, you’ve done this before, give me my marching orders.”

“Just go on up and wander into the break room so Dwight follows you to monitor your break, then act naturally from there. I’ll follow in a moment.”

“Aye aye, captain.” Jim mock-saluted her and turned on his heel. She admired the view as he walked away, then followed at a more sedate pace. Once upstairs, she stuck her duffel behind her desk, then walked in to find him and Dwight engaged in exactly the conversation she expected them to be having.  She bought the pencil cup, winked at Jim, and started a once-again very familiar day.

With Jim as her active coconspirator, the rest of the day went perfectly, from Pam’s perspective at least. Dwight followed the news from his future avidly, Ryan and Kelly got themselves locked into the supply closet together (a nice side effect of using Dwight’s personal stationary—he sent the temp in to check that none of his own supply had gotten misfiled into the closet, Jim “coincidentally” asked Kelly to grab a ream of cardstock for a client who “wanted Jim to describe the weight of it over the phone” and Pam neatly locked the door behind them), Toby and Brenda bonded over Michael’s ridiculousness, and Roy sat as far from her as possible during the meeting in which Michael revealed the booze cruise. She sat, as usual, directly behind Jim, only this time she used the opportunity to pass him notes (on the cardstock Kelly had gleefully remaindered after it was heavily crinkled by…whatever it was she and Ryan had been up to) and generally enjoy herself more than she had in any Michael meeting ever. Around the middle of the afternoon, Jim sauntered up to her desk.

“So…”

“So?” she looked up at him with a brilliant smile.

“Call me slow if you like…”

“You’re slow,” she interrupted before he could continue. He grinned.

“I did set myself up for that, didn’t I?” He chuckled as she nodded her head seriously. “Well, call me slow if you like but if all your worldly possessions are…you know where.” He jerked his head outside, clearly realizing that saying “in my car” was probably dangerous in an office as gossip-filled as theirs. “Then you’re going to need somewhere to stay.”

She nodded. “That does seem likely.”

He cocked his head at her. “Have we had this conversation before?”

She shook her head. “Nope. As I said, this is the first time it’s gone in this direction.”

“Ah.” He smiled. “Well, then, I was going to say, Mark’s out of town for the weekend, and I took the liberty of calling him and he’s says it’s totally OK, so if you wanted, I, um, have a spare bedroom?” He stepped back. “I’m sorry, that’s probably overstepping, I just thought…”

She smiled. “It’s a nice thought.” She leaned forward, which had the intoxicating effect of causing him to take that step back towards her and lean forward himself. “The only problem I have with it is that, um,” be bold, she thought. This has to be the right cycle. And goodness knows you’ve wasted enough time. “I was kind of hoping we could go on a date? Tonight? And I’m not sure it’s a date if I’m just your temporary roommate.”

Jim blinked. “Beesly, did you just ask me out?”

Pam felt her face grow volcanically hot. “Maybe? Yes. Yes I did.”

“Then I accept.” He leaned closer. “And besides, it’s more of a date than when the girl goes home to her fiancé.” He leaned back casually and grabbed a jellybean. “Besides, all this means is that I’m guaranteed to get you to come back to my place.”

If it was possible for her face to grow hotter, it would have right then, Pam was sure.

“I’m joking, I’m joking.”

“Why?” Pam felt emboldened by his caution, and she realized that that was a lot of why she liked the idea of being with Jim: his willingness to both make the comment and then walk it back made her feel more comfortable making her own bolder statements—like asking him out, she supposed.

“Why what?”

“Why are you joking? It sounds to me like a great plan. Me coming back to your place.”

Now it was Jim’s turn to blush.

“Seriously, Jim, I appreciate the offer.” Pam felt a new sense of determination sweep over her. She hadn’t done this, but she knew this day. She knew the possibilities ahead of her and she could do this too. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You and I are going to skip the booze cruise…”

“What’s that, young lady?” She had been so focused on Jim that she’d somehow missed Michael sneaking out of his office. “No one is skipping the booze cruise! It’s the social event of the season! Everyone’s saying so. Right guys?” He looked around at his very unenthused office and waved his arms up and down. “Right???”

“Right, Michael!” Dwight jumped to his feet. Pam put up her hands to calm Michael down and Kelly screamed.

“PAM! Ohmigod Pam, your engagement ring! Where is it? Did you lose it? Ohmigod, is Jim helping you find it? Is that why you and Roy were sitting so far apart at the meeting? Is that why you’re skipping the booze cruise?”

“No one is skipping the booze cruise!” Michael was also yelling. Pam put both her hands up again for silence, and, as if by a miracle, she actually got it.

“Kelly! I didn’t lose my ring, Roy and I broke up today.” She made a little zipping motion in Kelly’s direction when she was about to respond. “That’s why Michael kindly gave me and Jim permission to start looking for apartments, because we’re all one big Dunder Mifflin family, and Michael’s a great boss.” She’d learned early that if you gave Michael credit for having done something, he would do that thing even if he’d never thought of it before in his life. “Jim is the one helping me because he and his sister volunteered to help me move stuff before we knew what Michael was planning for this evening. And that is all I’m going to answer until tomorrow.” Because if this didn’t work today, she was damned if she was going to talk any more to anyone about it until everything reset.

“I…uh…that’s right, people, back to work!” Michael took control of the situation as only he could. “Nothing to see here, just my highly effective leadership on display!” He leaned down towards Pam. “When did I promise that?”

“Just now, Michael.” Jim smiled. “We were all very impressed.”

“Good, good. Wait, Pam, why don’t I help you look for apartments? That way Jimbo here can go on the cruise.” Michael smiled. “After all, I always thought of you as my daughter. My hot little daughter who’s…well, not my daughter as such but…”

“Michael!” Pam cut him off before it could get any creepier. “You have to go make the awesome presentation tonight. And everyone else has to go hear it. That’s why it has to be Jim who helps me.”

“Why doesn’t Jim have to hear the presentation?”

“Because you’re going to go give it to him now.” She mouthed sorry at Jim as Michael towed him into his office babbling about management techniques—or porn magazines, she wasn’t entirely sure. He made eye contact as he was being tugged through the door and clearly mouthed back you owe me, Beesly, and she blew him a kiss.

“Ohmigod Pam!” She should probably have waited to see if Kelly was gone before doing that. “Are you and Jim…” For once Kelly found herself speechless. Pam felt very grateful that Angela was in the back room at the moment, because otherwise she was sure that Kelly’s excitement would not have been the dominant emotion on display. As it was, she took her friend aside.

“Who cares about me and Jim? What about you and Ryan?” This was Pam’s version of Jim going into Michael’s office, she realized, as Kelly took the opportunity to spend the next twenty minutes telling her in minute detail about behaviors in the supply closet that she would have sworn were physically impossible, as well as planning her and Ryan’s wedding (“it’s gonna be so awesome! I look amazing in white and of course all the bridesmaids can be in, like, ecru or beige or something, because ain’t none of those bitches going to outshine me, not that they could anyway but why take a chance? and Ryan will be in a tux, vest obviously, not cummerbund—don’t you think he’d look gorgeous in one of those like Han Solo-y black vests? Especially after he takes off the jacket for dancing—do you want to be a bridesmaid for me? Please say yes! I’d totally do it for you!” Only Kelly would insult her bridesmaids in one breath and then ask Pam to be one in the next) and how many kids they’d have (five, only she couldn’t quite decide if three should be boys like Ryan or girls like her).

After what seemed longer than some of the cycles of the day that she’d been through, she and Jim were able to meet back up and plan their evening. Jim called Larissa, who agreed to meet them at the office to make Pam’s claim to Michael that Jim and his sister were helping her move plausible. The three of them would move Pam’s things into Jim and Mark’s apartment and scour the paper for ads, then get dinner—“to take the pressure off the date later” Pam insisted, to which Jim only smiled—then Pam would go to the art class at the Y (“it’s important to me,” she insisted to Jim, who allowed that if it was important to her she should do it) after which Jim would pick her up for the date portion of their evening. “That way,” she insisted “we won’t be trying to bring my suitcases with us somewhere romantic.”

“What makes you think I’m going to take you somewhere romantic?” Jim inquired idly. “Or do you already know what I’m going to do from a previous go-round?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I told you, this is new for me too.”

“Nervous, Beesly?”

“Just a little.”

“Don’t be.” He looked deep in her eyes. “I promise, it’ll knock your socks off.”

“I happen to like my socks.” But she was giggling, and so she expected that that took some of the edge off of her response.

Larissa was full of questions (mostly “when” and “how” not “why” or “what,” but then Pam hadn’t really expected all that much surprise on the latter points) and also of energy, and the three of them got her stuff put away pretty quickly—Pam would have said depressingly quickly if her heart weren’t beating so hard from the idea that she and Jim were going on an actual date that night. They mutually agreed that actually going out to a restaurant sounded like too much effort, so they ordered out from Cugino’s and ate it around Jim’s kitchen table while looking at apartment ads on Pam’s laptop. It felt…comfortable, not in the way that the whole day felt comfortable because she’d worn a groove in time by repeating it so much, but in the way that a towel fresh out of the dryer feels good on your face: warm, inviting, comforting.

All too soon, it was time for Pam to get ready for the art class. She remembered at the last moment that she and Jim were going out on a date right after and surprised herself by cursing out loud. Jim guffawed and Larissa asked what was up.

“I just realized—I can’t dress up for this date because I might get paint on whatever I wear.”

Larissa made a dismissive motion. “I have a friend who goes to the same class. I’ll just call her and ask her to bring an extra smock with her, and you can wear that over your clothes.”

“Melanie?” Pam asked.

“Yeah, how’d you…oh right, the groundhog thing. Well, I’ll go call her—say hi for me, will you?”

“Thank her for me!” Pam yelled after Larissa as she left the room with her phone. “I mean, before I do it in person!” She glanced up at Jim. “You know, I might have Larissa drop me off. That way you don’t get to see how I’m dressed.”

“What is this, a wedding?” Jim tried to scoff, but the idea of them getting married was apparently as active in his mind as it had been in hers, and they ended up staring at each other until Larissa strolled in and broke the tension. Jim coughed.

“Hey, Larissa, do you mind driving Pam? She, uh, doesn’t want me to see how she dresses up before I pick her up.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, no problem.” Larissa grinned. “It’ll give me a chance to pass on the dirt your new girlfriend is missing.” Pam blushed hard. Was she Jim’s girlfriend? She knew this wasn’t a rebound for her—she loved Jim—but she realized it had that appearance to someone who hadn’t been going through her repeated experience of today. She peeked over at Jim, who was also blushing, and decided it didn’t matter.

“Thanks, Larissa.”

“No problem, Pam. Now, shoo.” She gestured at Jim.”G’wan, get.”

“Are you shooing me out of my own house?” Jim grumbled, but he headed out anyway. “I’ll see you later tonight, Pam.”

“I’m counting on it.” Pam rushed upstairs and got herself dressed in the one fancy thing she’d found in her closet—that periwinkle dress—then she and Larissa headed out to the Y. On the way, Larissa didn’t actually dish any new dirt on Jim, but she did tell Pam a lot of cute stories about the two of them growing up. Apparently Jim had been a somewhat overprotective brother until Larissa had put her foot down in late high school and said that he’d never get to meet any of her boyfriends or girlfriends if he didn’t stop being such an ass.

“And that was how I came out to my family,” she chuckled as they parked. “I’m pretty sure Jim didn’t realize it until he was about three sentences into his argument about him being an ass, either.”

“Or else he didn’t really care.” Pam smiled.

“Yeah. He’s been pretty cool about it.” Larissa waved at another car pulling in. “Hey, Mel!”

Melanie parked next to Larissa’s car and gave her a hug. “Hey, Larissa! Is this your brother’s girlfriend you were telling me about?” She smiled at Pam and stuck out a hand. “Melanie. Larissa’s classmate, roommate…”

“…all-around better half.” Larissa’s arm snaked around Melanie’s waist. “It’s cool, she’s family.”

“Nice to meet you.” Pam shook Melanie’s hand. “I hear you have a smock for me?”

“I do!” Melanie swiveled around and grabbed it from the passenger’s side of her car. “And I’m glad Larissa called, because I would hate for you to get paint on that gorgeous dress.” Pam grinned. “Shall we?” Larissa kissed Melanie goodbye and the two artists walked into the Y together.

The art class was much as Pam remembered it being, except that this time she and Melanie had a much more wide-ranging conversation, since they were both dating Halperts, and the abstract she produced was full of greens and reds—“like Christmas!” Kerry exclaimed, and Pam supposed it was because she felt like today had been a gift.

At the end of the class, Jim met her by the doorway (looking extremely handsome in a sweater and slacks) and exchanged greetings with Melanie. Pam and Melanie snuck away to the ladies’ room so Pam could give her back the smock, and so, in Melanie’s words, “I can see what happens when he see you in that dress.” She winked at Pam. “Larissa will kill me if I don’t get her the play-by-play.” Pam grinned back, and then they left the bathroom one by one, Melanie passing by Jim and then turning, with another wink at Pam, to watch. Pam slipped from behind the bathroom door and saw Jim’s jaw literally drop, to her amusement.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” They stared at each other for a moment.

“So…” they both started.

“Jinx! Buy me a Coke!” Pam chortled as Jim’s face drained of color and he raced to the vending machine in the front hallway of the Y. Fortunately, it apparently had Coke, as she heard the telltale thunk and he raced back with it. She took it gratefully and twisted the lid, waiting for the hiss to subside while letting Jim proceed.

“So, I was thinking, for our date tonight…”

“Yeah?” She adored seeing Jim like this, all bashful and nervous.

“How do you feel about skee-ball?”

“Love it.” She grinned.

“Mini-golf?”

“Do you have to ask?” She was briefly disappointed that he’d somehow forgotten the minigolf day they’d spent with the office two years ago, the one whose pencil had mysteriously found it way into her teapot at Christmas.

“I don’t know, I thought maybe your opinions on it might have shifted after how you lost so badly last time.” He was grinning back at her and she stuck her tongue out.

“I still maintain you cheated.”

“Does that mean you want to keep score?”

“No.” She tucked her arm into his. “So we’re going to the fun center?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“So where are we going?”

“…the fun center.” She cracked up and he tried valiantly to keep up his dignity before cackling right alongside her. “What? I want this date to be fun.”

“I love it.” She started tugging on his hand towards the parking lot. “Let’s go!”

They had a wonderful time at the fun center, which was open until midnight to take advantage of the fact that during the winter no one sane was going to do any outdoor activities that might take them out of the fun center itself. He was amazing at skee-ball, she beat him soundly at mini-golf (though she suspected he might have fudged the numbers in her favor) and they both surprisingly dominated the little Who Wants to Be a Millionaire­-themed trivia game where you pressed buttons to determine the correct answer. In the end they had enough tickets that they were able to pool them together and get a near-life-size teddy bear that Pam instantly loved with all her heart.

“What should we call him?”

“Teddy Ruxpin’s too derivative, I suppose?” Jim quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Yes.” She cuddled the bear closer. “How about Bear-ry?”

“Ugh. No puns.”

“Roosevelt?”

“No presidents.”

“Bear Man?”

“No…actually, yes. That sounds good.”

Bear-Man made his way home with them—and Pam was feeling giddy that “home” was where Jim was—and they stopped at Jim’s door. He looked at her in feigned astonishment.

“So this is where you live.”

“Guess so.” She grinned up at him.

“Thanks for the date.” He smiled down at her, but frowned when she shook her head. “What?”

“You only get to thank me for the date if it was me doing something for you. This was us doing something for each other.” She smiled, suddenly nervous. “Or at least I thought so.”

“You were right.” He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “There’s an us?”

“If you want.”

“Oh, I want.” Hearing his voice right by her ear was decidedly distracting.

“Then there’s an us.” She tried to do the same thing his voice was doing—somehow, she felt, it was caressing her as if his hand and not his words were touching her—and was delighted to see goosebumps rise up on neck.

“So if there’s an us…” he moved even closer to her ear “what does that mean we should be doing right about now?”

She didn’t have an answer for him in words, so she turned her head and kissed him.

It was everything she had imagined kissing Jim might be. First of all, it was everything kissing Roy wasn’t: not scratchy, not sloppy, not like being eaten by a monkfish. But it was so much more than that that it was unfair to even think of defining it by negatives. It was glorious; it was wonderful; it was holy. It was what she’d read about kisses in her mothers’ romance novels (stuffed behind the reference books on the shelves in the family room, as if Pam wouldn’t find them there and then show them to Penny). It was somehow a coming together not just of lips but of souls, and it tugged at her heart as well as deep in her gut—and lower. When they finally came up for air there was a beat of silence, as if neither of them could really believe what had just happened.

“Inside,” she gasped, and he fumbled for the key.

In the moment it took him to unlock the door, she made a decision. They were not going to have sex that night. She wanted to—and she was pretty sure Jim wanted to too—but there was absolutely no way she could sleep with him if she had any chance of waking up in bed with Roy the next morning. Even if she now knew how to get here, it would hurt too much to go back.

So when her head hit the pillow that night, her lips thoroughly kissed, her body enflamed and enamored and a-tingle, there was only one thought in her mind besides “I love Jim.”

Please, please, don’t make me do this again.