She was gorgeous.

He’d actually been afraid to turn around when Dwight had said her name, because he was already a ball of nerves about her. He’d been disappointed when she wasn’t there when he came in (by triangulation from Dwight’s desk, which had a large sign saying “Property of Dwight K. Schrute” on it, he’d been easily able to tell which desk was his, and then by process of elimination hers) and then the forms he had to fill out and his instinctive reaction to Dwight’s ridiculousness (which she had by no means exaggerated) had distracted him, but she was never far from his thoughts. Even as he was doing his level best to inject some sanity into his interaction with his bossy, loud new coworker (who was definitely not the Assistant Manager, no matter what he said: Michael had been very clear that ‘the assistant manager position is currently vacant, wink wink nudge nudge say no more’ during the interview—and yes, he had said those words aloud), he was also wondering where she was and what she looked like. He still wasn’t sure whether he wanted her to be plain and thus more likely to be single, or just as beautiful as her voice, but the decision was obviously not his to make, and now that he’d seen her he couldn’t imagine her any other way.

Just as beautiful as her voice, and just as quick on the draw in person as she’d been on their brief (all too brief) interrupted phone call.

He couldn’t meet her eyes, for fear that she’d see the desire pulsing in him after he’d seen her and actually gotten to touch her hand. It was urging him to lean over her desk just a little further to grab the stapler from her hand, making him tingle as the edge of his pinky finger caught on hers as she handed it over, and he couldn’t afford to look at her lest it should boil over. But then he realized that by averting his eyes he was actually staring at her (quite impressive) breasts, even if they were hidden behind a cardigan, and he forced himself instead to meet her eyes and smile.

“I, uh, I’ll just get these documents to HR then.” He waved at the papers on his desk with the stapler then realized how stupid he must look to her and blushed. “Um…which way is HR?”

“Back here.” He looked at her blankly as her hands, which he’d expected to point him in the right direction, went instead to the little butterfly necklace hanging around her throat. HR wasn’t in her cardigan, was it? He blushed again at the thought, thankful that his face didn’t tend to show red for very long. “I’ll show you.” Oh. He slammed the staple in and turned to follow her, working to ignore the glare that Dwight was still sending his way. He did his best not to watch the sway of her hips as she walked towards the back of the office.

“Ohmigod Pam!” A voice erupted from the back, followed at relativistic speeds by a young Indian woman who barreled into Pam and seized her hands, completely oblivious to Jim’s presence—which had the effect of stopping Pam in her tracks and causing Jim to come extremely close to plowing into her backside. Not the impression he wanted to make…not yet at least.

“Hi, Kelly.” So the mystery woman’s name was Kelly. He wondered what she did.

“Pam! Did he give you a ring yet?” Kelly lifted Pam’s left hand to eye level and Jim was momentarily confused. Sure, he was head over heels for this girl already, but how would Kelly know that…oh. Reality crashed down in an instant. He wasn’t he. There was someone else. He knew it. There’d had to be. She was too vibrant, too wonderful, too gorgeous not to be attached to someone. Well, at least she was interested in men, if this mysterious “he” was anything to go by, but that wasn’t exactly helpful if she was already invested enough in someone to be expecting a ring. He listened with a sudden twist in his belly to the rest of Kelly’s monologue, which only served to confuse him more.

“I mean, I thought when I saw him walking out to your truck yesterday that he must be going to get you the ring—I mean, why else would Darryl let him go so early if it wasn’t to surprise you with something amazing—like, I bet whenever he does get you a ring it’s going to be one of those two-carat ones you can put an eye out with, you know the type, after all the saving up you two have been doing. I don’t think I’d want my husband to do that—I’d much rather have one of those ones with three different diamonds, you know, like a carat each, because one diamond is just, like, so 1950s—but I’m sure you’d love it—and anyway, I think Roy’s just so traditional, you know? But I guess maybe he meant it as a surprise, or maybe he just went shopping and he didn’t bring it back with him because you know how the warehouse is, it would just get packed up in a paper box and ohmigod I would not be able to bear it if my ring got shipped out to some school in the Poconos or something, and…”

Fortunately for Kelly’s lungs, and Jim’s sanity, Pam chose that moment to break in quietly. “No, Kelly, he didn’t give me a ring. He just went to Poor Richard’s with the guys.” She looked embarrassed as she turned to him, staring for a moment deep into his eyes—and then suddenly jumped a half foot away, as if previously unaware how close he’d gotten to her when Kelly had interrupted her stride. “Kelly, this is Jim Halpert. He’s new.”

“Hi, Kelly.” He thrust out a hand, not entirely unaffected by the way that leaning past Pam affected him. God she smelled good. But she wasn’t his to smell, was she? Apparently she was this “Roy’s”…what? Fiancé? Wife? God help him, but the small twist in his stomach was becoming larger by the moment.

“Hi Jim!” Kelly pounced on his hand and pumped it once, then pushed past Pam and enveloped him in a hug. “I’m a hugger!” She leaned over to whisper to Pam, a stage whisper that Jim wasn’t entirely sure if he was supposed to hear, or definitely not supposed to hear. “He’s cute.”

He blushed, and disassociated himself from the hug as quickly as possible, and was surprised to see Pam also red in the face. Kelly took advantage of her release—even though she had initiated the hug—to tug Pam towards what looked like a break room. Pam gave him a look he couldn’t quite interpret and gestured past where Kelly had come from. “Toby’s back there. Give him the form.” She also mouthed something else—it looked like “Sorry”—as Kelly half-dragged her into the other room, where he heard something that sounded awfully like “jealous” before the door closed.

He pulled himself together—fighting manfully against the rising nausea that he couldn’t identify as anything other than disappointment—and walked into the back annex, where he identified Toby Flenderson by nameplate and handed over his forms to a pinched, sad-looking man in an ill-fitting wrinkled shirt. They exchanged some information that he hoped wasn’t important, because none of it remained in his head afterwards, and he strode back out to the main room and plopped himself into what was apparently now his chair. Dwight was still staring at him, making him wonder whether the man ever did anything else.

Somehow this was not the day he’d imagined when he’d gotten up this morning.