Jim wasn’t sure what had prompted him to make that offer, other than the desire to spend more time with Pam alone—which was probably reason enough. But there were two apartments he had in mind for her; honestly, they had been a bit small for him and Mark together, but the main reason he hadn’t chosen them was that something in the back of his mind had been screaming “you only want to live here because you think Pam would fit in well here” and that was a scary thought when the girl you were interested in was engaged to another man.

It was only slightly less scary when she was in the car next to you, single. Especially when you hadn’t explicitly told her you were interested.

Oh, and when the apartment complexes in question didn’t know you were coming. Well, that was fixable, at least. Yeah, sure, he could probably tell Pam how he felt, too, but that thought scared him a lot more than talking to a couple people on the phone for a few seconds. After all, talking to people on the phone was like two-thirds of his job.

He pulled over into a Starbucks parking lot and flashed a tight grin at his passenger. “I just realized we should probably not show up at these places unannounced.” He pulled out and waved his phone. “Thought I’d fix that.” He pulled out his wallet and handed her a twenty. “And we could probably both use some caffeine after a long day of…well, I could hardly call it work, but you know what I mean.” Her smile at that very feeble sally gave him hope, and he watched as she trotted inside. When she was through the doors, he lunged into the backseat, where he’d carelessly thrown the printouts of the apartments he and Mark had been looking at. Funny—when he’d walked her to the car and held the door open, he’d been wishing desperately as anything that he had cleaned out the car before coming into work today. Now he was just as glad that he hadn’t, because his horrible habit of just shoving everything under the basketball in the backseat was finally paying dividends.

Webster Ave, Prospect Ave, Crown Ave…no, it wasn’t any of those. Fig St, Locust St, Beech St…ah, there was one. Linden St, just another tree-named street on the surface but just down the street from Nay Aug Park and with giant gorgeous bay windows. 2 bed, but affordable, as was almost everything he and Mark had looked at (no way they were sharing a room, but also no way they could afford much more than two bedrooms—even the house they’d ended up renting only officially had two, although you could probably sleep someone in the “den” upstairs if you didn’t care too much about fire codes). The other was on…here it was…Gibson. A few blocks away, same great views, and the second story of an old house which meant the trees next door didn’t block the light. He and Mark hadn’t wanted to live above the slightly chatty landlady, but Pam…Pam would probably charm her in a microsecond, if he was any judge. He flipped open the phone and started to dial.

“Yes, ma’am, I know my friend and I just looked at it, but I was wondering…no, we aren’t interested in renting it, my friend’s knees you know” he was shamelessly slandering Mark, whose knees, as far as he knew, hadn’t had an issue since he skinned one of them at the YMCA three years ago “but I have another friend who…yes, we’d love to…oh, I’m so glad…” it was almost impossible to get Gladys off the phone, and he was glad he’d called the other, much more professionally-managed building first. “We’ll be right over. See you soon. Yes, thank you.” Pam slid into the seat next to him just as he flipped the phone down. “Whatchya got there, Beesly?”

“Earl Grey tea, hot, for me,” she said, putting the relevant cup in the appropriate cupholder. “Grande mocha frappuccino for you,” fitting the word again to the action. “And your change.” She held out a handful of bills, which he waved away.

“Keep the change, Beesly, in case seeing these apartments drives you to drink.” She smiled and he knew he’d said the right thing. “Speaking of which, I’ve made appointments for us to view a couple of charming little apartments near Nay Aug Park. Ever heard of it?”

“Hmmm…” she put her hand on her chin and rubbed it, and he tried not to stare at the lips just above her fingers. “I’m not sure…it rings a bell…” She grinned abruptly. “That’s awesome. Where do we start?”

“We start here.” He handed her the first apartment’s information sheet. “Ignore the scribbling. Mark gets antsy when he’s making decisions.” His roommate had scrawled information about the size of the closets and the positioning of the kitchen cabinet doors across the front of the information sheet. “Or you can take his mad musings for gospel, if you want.” He pulled the car back into traffic and took a sip of his frappuccino. “Mmm. Chocolatey.”

“I don’t get how you drink those…milkshakes,” Pam admonished with a shake of her head.

“It’s not like you’re drinking coffee either!”

“No, but tea is a civilized person’s beverage.” She stuck out her tongue, which he noted from the corner of his eye as every instinct but self-preservation tried to get him to take his eyes off the road and turn to her. “Not…whatever that is.”

“Well, thank you for indulging my sweet tooth anyway.” He took another sip. “It was my money after all.”

She sighed theatrically. “I know. I debated getting you a more enlightened drink, but then I thought: if Jim wants to waste his money and his health, who am I to stand in his way? So I got you the most ridiculous thing on the menu.”

He shook his head. “No, the most ridiculous thing on a Starbucks menu is…earl grey tea, hot.”

“What?!?”

“Seriously, who goes to Starbucks for the tea?”

“Who goes to Starbucks for the coffee?”

“Ah, but I don’t go to Starbucks for the coffee. I go for the milkshakes.” He took another sip, and waggled the drink at her. “As you already pointed out.”

“Touché.” She picked up her tea and took a delicate sip. “But then again, I didn’t go to Starbucks.”

“No?” He gestured with the cup. “So a stranger came up to you and forced this frappuccino on you?”

“Of course not. But still, I didn’t go to Starbucks. You did.” She pointed. “Your car. Your choice. Your money. You went to Starbucks. I was merely your…assistant.”

“My assistant regional manager?”

“Do not compare me to Dwight.” But they were laughing, and she was happy, and all was right in the world.