Never in a million years. That would have been my response to being asked to attend a wedding at Schrute Farms: Never in a million years.
Why in God’s name would I want to spend my own free time, outside of work, seeing Dwight? It’s bad enough having to stare directly at him five days a week, why on Earth would you think I would want to spend my weekend at his beet farm?
Oh, right. Because my girlfriend accepted the invitation for the both of us. Sent the RSVP card back with both of our names on it. Without consulting me first.
I mean, I shouldn’t complain. It’s customary that the bride and groom invite their co-workers to their wedding. And it is Phyllis and Bob’s wedding. Phyllis is a nice co-worker, someone I can confide in if need be.
It sucks though, that they had to schedule their wedding here, at Schrute Farms of all places. They originally planned to have their ceremony at a local church, with a reception at the Green Ridge Club. Unfortunately, Bob sustained some serious injuries in a car crash on 81 last September (when I lived in Stamford), and with paying medical bills and all, it cut their plans down financially. Fortunately, Bob recovered well, and they started planning their big day, albeit on a smaller budget.
Their ceremony was small, only involving family as witnesses, at the courthouse. But, that left them without a reception venue.
Therefore, we’re at Schrute Farms.
Dwight had “apparently” cut Phyllis and Bob a really nice deal for the reception: outside under a tent.
…In the middle of February.
He claims it’s heated. I call bullshit. We’re all going to freeze our asses off.
“It’s a cash bar,” I hear appearing from behind me. Karen’s voice is visibly annoyed, shrill. “Damnit, Dwight. He couldn’t have made this convenient for us?”
I shake my head, looking over her head at the line of annoyed guests walking away from the bar, similar to my girlfriend's previous actions. “Well, I guess we’re not drinking then,” I respond. Honestly, it’s no big deal that it’s a cash bar. Am I surprised that Dwight would up-charge a couple who has been through hell this past year for an open bar? No, I wouldn’t put it beneath him. But am I going to get annoyed that I can’t drink? No.
“Fuck no,” she says, grabbing my arm, dragging me toward the bar. “What are yo-,” I start, being interrupted by my girlfriend talking to the bartender.
“Hi, can we get two St. Pauli Pilsners each, and two shots of Jäger?” She asks him, leaving me confused out of my mind. Not only do I want to spend money on alcohol (especially when my fridge stocked with PBR is awaiting me at home), but I know Jäger is extremely expensive. What the actual fuck is she thinking?
“That’ll be $76,” the bartender announces to us. I open my mouth to object, not paying fucking 70-odd dollars for expensive ass alcohol. No way am I giving Dwight any of my fucking money.
“Dwight said we could add it to his tab,” Karen answers. Excuse me? W…what? “I’m Jan, and this is my boyfriend and Dwight’s boss, Michael Scott. He told us this morning that he’d keep a tab for us, you could go ask him if you don’t believe me”
The bartender looks noticeably nervous, as if Karen’s intimidating tactics are getting to him. “M-my apologies Mr Scott. Mr. Schrute did mention such. I will get those for you immediately” I look over at Karen, as a smirk appears on her face. “Perfect,” she responds.
Sure, I might have a tendency to prank Dwight every now and then during the work week, to the point he may spend his own money for some bullshit reason. But, I would never pretend to be Michael to scam Dwight out of money. Ever.
I glare over at Karen, clearly upset with how she’s handling this. “Don’t give me that shit, Halpert,” she whispers, her mouth tightening to a straight line. “You’d do the same thing if you needed a drink this badly.” She thanks the bartender, taking the two bottles and one shot glass to our assigned table without me.
I roll my eyes as I also thank the bartender, taking my drinks with me toward one of the other Dunder Mifflin reserved tables to chat with some of our other coworkers.
Karen and I’s exchanges aren’t without warrant, and neither is my avoidance of her now. We’ve been in talks of her moving into my apartment lately, which has caused a plethora of arguments between the two of us. Her wanting to change decor to fit her needs, wanting to move to a new apartment closer to Wilkes-Barre, the whole act of moving in together… It has been driving me utterly fucking crazy. Nights of falling asleep angry, upset…mostly at myself. It’s as if we just aren’t compatible…
Which, I won’t lie, we aren’t.
Things didn’t start off like this. When we first started dating, things were really really good. I enjoyed her company, we had fun on dates, things were really looking up.
That is, until, after she and I came back to Scranton. After I confessed my feelings for…someone else. She started moving into this relationship fast: wanting to move in with me, talk about more serious things, have an actual future together. Things that, I guess, I don’t want?
And arguing with her hurts, not going to lie. I don’t want to argue with my girlfriend, I want us to be okay. Happy. She doesn’t know that it hurts me, of course, why would she? She doesn’t really get it.
It’s like she’s my complete opposite. Cold, corporate. Career-orientated, type-A. Sure, I may have been on the cold side lately. I admit it. I’m not Karen though.
I know why I’m dating her, for the most selfish, asinine reason. She was…there, someone to aid in forgetting what happened last May. Try to forget everything about that night, those words…
Try, the key word, since it will never work. Hasn’t worked. Regardless of the pain, the stinging feeling of hearing “I can’t” in my sleep each night, she’s still there. In my every thought, every dream.
Still feel my lips against hers, how natural it felt to hold her in my arms as she answered my kiss with her own. How badly I want, still want, to know that feeling again.
Regardless of how hard I try, I could never forget her. Forget how much my soul aches for her. Forget how much I’m madly and irrevocably in love with…
Her. As she enters the surprisingly heated tent holding this event, alone.
My eyes, drawn to her like a fucking magnet, take in how breathtakingly gorgeous she is. She’s clad in a brown, iridescent dress that hugs her curves perfectly, matched with a light pink shawl that is as iridescent as her dress. Her hair, fully down for the first time I’ve seen in public. Pin-straight, something I never thought I would see, yet I feel the need to run my hands through it.
She’s absolutely beautiful…but not mine to think of. Not mine to hold, mine to finally kiss again, make laugh.
I look away, as if I hadn’t noticed her arrival. I wouldn’t want anybody to catch me staring.
“Holy shit! Pam you look amazing!” I hear from behind me, walking toward her. We all know what Kelly’s voice sounds like by now: loud, obnoxious, stating loudly my own thoughts at the current moment. “Damn, girl! Where have you been hiding this outfit?” she yells, once again.
I watch as she begins to blush, becoming extremely bashful over the compliments she was receiving, walking toward the bar. I keep my eyes on her, as I mindlessly continue talking to Kevin and Andy about sports. I see the disappointment in her face to find that it’s a cash bar, her shaking her head and mouthing “Thanks a lot, Dwight” whilst walking away.
Which gives me an idea.
I pause my conversation with Kevin, and as I take a deep breath, I make my way over to her.
“Hey Beesly, didn’t expect to see you here,” I jokingly state, she chuckling a bit.
“Well, I didn’t expect to be here, Halpert. I originally planned on stating no on the R.S.V.P. card,” she responds. Wait, she wasn’t going to come? Why? “Phyllis and Bob were inviting the warehouse crew originally, which included Roy. I really don’t want to see him, you know? But, with them changing their plans, he wasn’t invited.”
“So therefore, you’re here?” I ask, in the dumbest way possible. Shit, I’m terrible at talking.
“I’m here,” she responds. She looks down at my hand, which is nursing a beer. “You paid for your drink? How much did Dwight end up overcharging you? He was going to make me pay fifteen dollars for a glass of wine.”
A smirk appearing on my face, my idea falling into place. “Well, if you must know Beesly, the bartender thinks I’m Michael, and placed me on Dwight’s tab.”
Her face lights up, an “O” forming from her mouth. “Shut up, they think you’re Michael?” With her eyebrows raised, she shakes her head. “Jim, that’s amazing. Only you would come up with that.”
I offer her a side smile, paired with a shoulder shrug. Okay, maybe I didn’t come up with this idea. It was definitely Karen’s idea, one I did not agree with initially. However, the last thing I want to do is mention her right now. “But at the same time, it wouldn’t be fair if Michael couldn’t get a nice glass of red wine for his favorite receptionist, would it?” I respond, nodding my head toward the bar.
She smiles, walking with me to the bar.
“Could I please get a glass of Zinfandel for the world’s best receptionist here? And if you could continue to add her drinks for the rest of the night to Dwight’s tab for me, that would be great. If not, you could let Dwight know that Michael would like to see him in his office Monday morning,” I state, in the most boss-like tone I could use. God, could you imagine me, Jim Halpert, as a boss? I’d never.
“R-right away, Mr. Scott!” the bartender states, as I look over at her, a smirk appearing on my face.
“Well, thank you for helping me, Michael,” she tries to state with a straight face, doing that adorable biting her tongue while laughing thing she does.
“Oh you are so welcome, Beesly,” I respond, the bartender handing the glass over to Pam from across the bar. A small, thank you from her as she waits for me to walk away.
“Well, I’m at table twelve, along with the other ‘singles’ of the Dunder Mifflin crew. Enjoy the ‘couples’ table, Jim,” she responds, picking up on the ping of sadness in that last sentence.
“Yeah, you too Beesly…” I answer her, watching as she walks over to table twelve, to sit with the likes of Andy, Angela, Meredith, Creed, Kevin, Oscar…
Whereas I’m stuck at the table with my own fucking girlfriend, Kelly and Ryan, and…god…Michael and Jan…
I walk over to the table: Table Seven. On the opposing side of the dance floor, away from the table Pam is seated at. It’s decor is nice, reddish flowers mixed with some yellow ones in the vase, a simple table number in a small picture frame. For the budgetary cuts they were left with, Phyllis and Bob have done a great job.
I find Karen’s purse seated on one of the chairs, but no Karen. Just a lonely Kelly, typing away at her phone.
“Hey Kelly,” I break her from her texting. “Have you seen Karen anywhere?”
“Yeah,” she says, dropping her phone angrily on the table. “She and my stupid fucking boyfriend went out near the bathrooms for a smoke. I’ve told him that is such a turn-off, I can’t believe he would still fucking do this. Do you believe that, Jim? Why would Ryan do this to me?”
Not going to lie, I definitely agree with Kelly on this one. Karen is very much one to be a social smoker. Kind of threw me for a loop the first time she pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her purse when we were at Poor Richard’s with Kevin and some of my college buddies. It’s not my favorite thing about her, and she knows it. But, to each their own I guess?
Ryan? Not surprised. Probably only went to get away from Kelly.
“Not sure, Kelly, not sure,” I respond, as I take one swig of my beer. It’s…okay I guess? I can tell it’s German, if that helps. Then, I remember this shot in my hand… “Hey, do you want this?” I ask Kelly, holding the shot glass up to her. “I figured Ryan wouldn’t buy you anything to drink, and I don’t wanna take shots tonight.”
“Oh my god! Jim, you are the literal best! I need something to get me through this shit. Thank you, thank you, Thank you!” she states, taking the glass from my hand and taking the Jäger straight, no chaser.
“Well, that’s the only one I have. If you want more, go ask Karen, she’s the one getting shots for people,” I snarlingly state. Literally, go ask Karen. She’s apparently Jan tonight.
“Aw, thanks Jim!” She hugs me, running across the dance-floor over to find Karen to get her another shot.
Meanwhile, leaving me alone at the table.
Until, I watch as Michael arrives…
I take another sip of beer, as they make their way to their seats. At my table. Not even trying to go to the bar.
“JIMBO!” I hear from behind me, as Michael attempts to give me a bear hug. He smells disgustingly like Axe Body Spray, something that I’m assuming someone (probably Andy) gifted him for Christmas this past year. Clad in a suit that just looks, wrong for him, as Jan is clad in another one of her pantsuits.
Should be a great night at the couples table.
I, taking yet another sip of the lager, look over at table twelve. Magnetically looking over at Pam, sipping her wine with ease. Making small talk with the likes of Andy, Creed, Meredith… It looks as if she’s laughing along with them.
God, what it would kill me to be seated over there, being the one to make her laugh genuinely…
It’s going to be a long night.
The entrance of the lovely couple has come and gone at this point, dinner winding down. Our table, somehow eating in silence? Something I’m not used to at weddings. Kelly refuses to speak to Ryan, as she takes forkfuls of her salad into her mouth. Jan, slowly sipping the wine that she gladly paid for at the bar, not even touching her food, while Michael scorches his throat like he’s Joey Chestnut, attempting to win a food eating contest or some shit.
Then, there’s Karen and I. Karen, who took another shot with Kelly before dinner, who pulled me aside outside of the tent to argue why a modern apartment closer to Downtown would fit us better than my current apartment in Dunmore. I, arguing why moving downtown would be a dilemma with traffic, loud noises, etc. Not sure why I argued with her whilst drunk, but it is what it is.
She and I, seated next to each other, act as if we have not been acquainted in any way possible. I, eating a lackluster steak, in my own world apart from hers. We’re terrible for each other…yet, we’re here.
“So, ladies and germs,” Michael breaks the tension, unfortunately. “This meal was just delicious! Man, could I take more of these potatoes. Are you going to eat yours, honey?” He queries to Jan, who continues to sip from her deep red wine. “No, Michael. Just eat them,” she responds, in a cold manner. When did my table here become the “cold shoulder” table?
My eyes drawn to table twelve, yet again. Pam, who's been subject to sitting next to Dwight, although he and Angela are clearly dating. Now that I am secretly aware of their relationship, I can say that they are doing a terrible job of hiding it. I know when they’re looking at each other, the little smirks Dwight sends her way. The fact that they are secretly holding hands under the table right now.
I wonder if Pam can sense it? Knows if they’re secretly together the way I do? Wonders as much as I do about these two. I would definitely not let Karen onto this secret. I can imagine she not caring, using it against Dwight to get company secrets that he hears from Michael. You know, sneaky stuff?
Pam would never treat Dwight that way. She’d go along with me, want to find small ways to sprinkle Angela’s name into conversations to get him to admit it. Joke around with me about it, come up with odd scenarios that involve the two, or whatever we’d talk about at lunch.
If I didn’t fuck things up.
The DJ grabs the mic, announces that it’s time for the first dance for Phyllis and Bob. Originally, Scrantonicity was supposed to play. However, Kevin asked too much money, and Dwight told the couple that he would not allow Kevin’s band to play on his property. Therefore, they were forced to choose a DJ that was a part of Dwight’s approved vendor list. Well, I guess the DJ’s cheap and won’t play many songs then.
Phyllis and Bob make their way to the dance floor from the sweetheart table, as “Take My Breath Away” by Berlin plays. It’s nice to see how happy the Vances are, celebrating after a rough year. Finally together, married. This song must mean so much to them after this…
“Ugh, this song sucks,” I hear from the seat next to me. I turn away from the couple, to see my girlfriend downing from another bottle of beer. I believe she’s on her…fourth one? I, only halfway done my second. “Why would they choose this song to dance to?” she drunkingly asks me, annoying the literal fuck out of me in the process.
I don’t know, Karen, maybe this song actually means something to them? I wouldn’t assume if I were you, I think to myself. I take another swig of my own beer, as she scoffs over decisions that have nothing to do with her.
“Not sure,” I respond, looking down at my feet. Karen continues with her annoyance of their song choice as I’m looking back at the happy couple again. Then, of course, back at my favorite sight tonight. Pam’s smiling, as they are halfway through their first dance as husband and wife. I can only feel jealous of their happiness, wishing for it myself. But, her smile is contagious, as one appears on my own face. I catch her looking over at me, offering her a small smile in exchange. Her eyes, twinkling from the lights overhead on the dance floor. She’s just…so gorgeous. I-I can’t keep my eyes away from her.
I need to talk to her again, just once more tonight. Make her smile once more, makeup for all the lost time I’ve caused.
Phyllis and Bob finish their first dance, two more dances with their parents follow, before the dance floor is open to everyone. More popular songs begin to play, ones that get everyone (including Michael and Jan) on their feet. I, on the other hand, find myself walking toward the bar.
I stand in line, for what seems like hours. While there, I witnessed the bouquet and garter toss. I figured Dwight would force this part of the reception to happen early, but this early? Well, I just hope Phyllis and Bob don’t mind it. Somehow, Meredith caught the bouquet, and Kevin caught the garter, leaving us to watch the most awkward garter placing…
So happy I wasn’t apart of the fray of single men attempting to take part in this stupid fucking tradition. Not only would Karen lose her head if I were to actually catch the garter, regardless of the fact that she tried to catch the bouquet, but I’d be subject to see someone I either do not know, or a work acquaintance’s leg. No thanks. I pray to God this tradition isn’t taking place at my own wedding…
Regardless, I noticed that Pam didn’t take part in the bouquet toss…I wonder why…
Time passes as I’m still standing in the same spot at the bar. The dance floor is packed. And here I am, waiting for another beer.
“Well, looks like Michael’s having a good time,” I hear from behind me, as Pam joins the line for the bar as well. I, attempting to hide my smile from her as I turn around. “Yeah, considering he and Jan were tense at dinner,” I answer her, disregarding the obvious tension between my own girlfriend and I tonight. I don’t need Pam to worry about that, my problem, not hers.
“How bad?” she asks, as we move up in line. “He ate her potatoes,” I state, as she bursts out laughing. “Wait, what do you mean by…’potatoes’?”
“He ate her dinner,” I state, adding that's what she said to the end of it. Pam laughs at my comment, so at least I’m doing something right tonight? “Well, that must have been a sight to see,” she states, as we finally make it to the tabletop of the bar. As the bartender sees us both, nodding to confirm the drink each of us would like a refill on.
“Oh absolutely, along with a drunk Kelly as well,” I explain, as we thank the bartender as our drinks arrive.
“Fun times, too bad I missed it,” she said under her breath, as I pretended to not hear what she said. It would have been much more fun with her at my side, making jokes about Michael and Jan’s awkwardness, Kelly and Ryan’s entire relationship…
My own girlfriend’s pettiness…
We walk away from the bar, drinks in hand, staring directly at her. “Honestly, it was probably better that you weren’t there. I’d rather not subject you to the saltiness that table felt.” I respond, as I hear commotion coming from behind us at the bar.
“What do you mean you don’t believe me? I’m his boss!” is announced loudly, in an eerie similar tone to- Oh shit. Michael’s trying to get a free drink…
“Sir, you aren’t fooling me. There is no way that you are Mr. Schrute’s boss,” the bartender responds, denying him a drink from the bar. I turn over to Pam, who is really trying to keep from laughing, as do I.
“Yes, I am Dwight’s boss. And he told me that if I were to talk to the bartender at this wedding, that I could be placed on his tab. Now why on Earth would you think I’m not?” Michael responds angrily, attempting to flag Jan over to him. “Hey babe?” his yell bouncing toward the front of the heated tent. “Can you please tell this asshole of a bartender that I am, in fact, Dwight’s boss?”
Pam and I look over Jan’s way, expecting her to put a halt to her and I’s free drinks for the night. However, Jan’s annoyed expression says otherwise. “I’m sorry, I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about,” she responds nastily. Michael’s face, which states “Babe, what the fuck?” mixed with “What the absolute hell am I going to do now?”, causes a chuckle to slip from my mouth.
“Wait! I can prove it! Phyllis!” he yells across the dance floor, attempting to get her attention. She continues dancing, clearly her attention not drawn to Michael.
I look over again at Pam, who is now visibly laughing, causing my own laughter to slip from under me. “You have to believe me, I really am his boss! Honest!” Michael begs, as the bartender rolls his eyes.
“Dude, if you don’t get away from my bar right now, you’ll be escorted off the property,” the bartender snorts, annoyedly. Am I actually getting away with pretending to be Michael? And he has no clue?
Why is this going so well for me, yet so wrong?
“No, I am not leaving without my Rum Martinez, paid for ‘on the house,’ provided to me by my subordinate, Dwight Schrute,” Michael demands the bartender. “First off, I don’t even know what a Rum Martinez is, let alone be able to make one for you-” the bartender retorts, being cut off automatically. “Then change it to a Grasshopper,” Michael, again, demands. “Second,” the bartender speaks over him. “There’s no way I’m taking demands from someone who’s lying to get free drinks.” I watch as the bartender picks up a walkie-talkie, assuming that he’s calling for security.
Pam’s to my side, uncontrollably laughing. Whether it’s the alcohol talking, or the actual sight of our boss, being escorted out of a wedding for a prank that my girlfriend caused, not I, I can’t help but to laugh alongside her.
Jan, understandably pissed, walks out with Michael, who is dragged out of the tent by two security guards. Yikes, the only word I have for this.
“That was…something,” I say out loud, not expecting for that to come out of my mouth. Whoops.
“Yeah, who would have thought that Michael would be the one kicked out of Phyllis’ wedding?” Pam asks, her eyes staring up at me. Those green orbs are making me weak again…
“So,” I change the subject, as some Chris Brown song is playing. The entirety of our co-workers dancing, my curiosity getting the best of me. “When are we going to get to see some of those famous Beesly dance moves?” I ask, watching as a tint of blush creeps up her cheeks.
“Oh… I’m pacing myself,” she responds, her smile belonging with it. “Come on. Get out there. Give the people what they want!” I retort. Her smile is so infectious, I can’t help but to smile myself.
“No. I’m such a dorky dancer,” she says, looking down at the floor to her right. D-does she really think she’s no good?
“I know. It’s very cute,” I attempt to boost her confidence. The blush growing up her cheeks, closing in toward her ever-growing smile.
“You mean that?” She sounds nervous yet, bold? Is this confidence I hear from Pam?
“I do mean that,” I answer, offering her a smile, as the music changes to a much slower song, as I watch dread wipe over her face, her as pale as the paper I sell. “A-are you okay?” I ask, genuinely concerned.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be back, just going to the bathroom,” she abruptly states, making her way out of the tent.
“Pam, wa-” I call back to her, as she cuts me off. “Jim, go dance with Karen. You should slow dance with your girlfriend,” she responds, as the word “girlfriend” hits me in my gut. That word, hitting me so hard in the stomach, as if she actually punched me.
Only then, do I catch wind of the situation at hand here. The song playing… is the song that she mentioned once out of thin air as “She and Roy’s song”. Titled “You Were Meant For Me” by Jewel. It’s a slow song, but a terrible one at that. Kind of not surprised that Roy would pick this song for them, but I digress.
This was ‘their’ song. And she’s at a wedding, something she planned for years, only to have it ruined…by…me.
She wants me to “slow dance with my girlfriend.” My girlfriend, Karen. The woman I brought home to Scranton from my short time in Stamford, the woman that I’ve been basically using as a shield. Against…
I look over at Karen, who is drunkenly taking another shot at the bar, along with Meredith and Kelly. I hear her boo the DJ, yelling that she wants a fast song played instead. My girlfriend, who is basically acting single tonight, ignoring me and getting wasted with her co-workers rather than her usual clinginess toward me.
And…Pam just wants me to dance with…her?
Pretend as if her own laughter does nothing to me now? That I’d prefer the company of a woman who, I know, I’m wronging? Dating to hide my own feelings?
No. I can’t do this to her anymore…can’t keep playing this charade with the woman I love anymore.
I walk toward the entrance of the tent, not giving a fuck of the disgustingly frigid temperature outside sans my winter coat.
Is this worth it, though? Ruining my current relationship for the woman who broke my heart?
For Pam, it absolutely is.
“Beesly, wait!” I yell, as I see her standing on the grass, shaking in wintry-fashion. She also sans a coat, has her back toward me, looking off toward the small wooded area of the Farm.
She refuses to turn around, a few moments after I called out her name. She’s upset, I can tell without even seeing her face.
“Pam, I don’t want to dance to that song,” I announce, loud enough that she has to hear me. “I know what significance it has to you.”
I stand there, shivering from the frigid cold of a Pennsylvania February. What I said clearly is not working, as Pam continues to stand there, forcing herself to stay still, away.
“I don’t want to dance with her,” I finally yell. Finally admitting it not only to her, but to myself…
And, she turns around. It’s visible that she was crying: her eyes puffy, tear streaks stain her made-up face. “W-why not?”
I take a deep breath. I know I need to face the music, tell her. So, I push through my nerves, allow my liquid courage to take over, and…
“Pam, she means nothing to me” I say it, leaving me relieved. She stares at me, as I continue to stare at her. I say it again, “She’s just a distraction, Pam. She means literally nothing to me.”
She looks down at the ground, refusing to make eye contact. Processing this information must leave her confused. I don’t blame her for being so, honestly.
I continue, “I’m a dumbass, Pam. I-I left you with no time to process that bombshell I left you at Casino Night…time to let you figure things out, whether or not you even could separate your life from him. And I took off. Left you, only to come back with some girl on my arm that I don’t even have feelings for…” I pause, brushing my hand through my hair. “But Pam, my hiding? Me distracting myself? Has done nothing. Hasn’t changed at all the way I feel about you.”
And…it’s now out in the open.
She, looking directly at me, causes me to walk closer toward her. “Wait,” she asks of me. “So all this time…?”
“Yes,” I answer back, as I’m finally close to her. “All this time,” I, in fear of her getting hypothermia, but also my own selfish need to touch her, grab her hands. “I’ve still been in love with you. Still am…”
She takes ahold of my own hands, looking directly up at me. The greens of her eyes, brighter than I’ve ever seen.
“Jim, I-” she begins. “I’m sorry…I-I’m sorry that I told you I couldn’t that night. That I was going to still marry him, that-that I wasn’t the one to tell you about breaking off my engagement to him. I’m a dumbass too, Jim. I-I should have told you how I really felt…”
She pauses, as I rub my hands up her bare arms, attempting to warm her up. “I was in denial…” she states, shaking her head in sadness.
“Beesly,” I state, as she looks up at me. “Are you saying that…?” I ask. “Yes, I am. Jim, I-I’m in love with you too.”
In that moment of hearing those words, ones that ring bells in my brain, send every warm, fuzzy feeling to my heart, my hands make their way to her cheeks. And I, slowly, bring my lips onto hers for the first time in almost a year.
She leans into my kiss, her hands meeting mine at her cheeks. Her lips are like a drink of cold water in the middle of the desert, I need more and more with each second passing. I need more, crave more. But, not without making sure of what she wants.
I break away, as she yearns for more. “Lemme grab our jackets, okay? Don’t need you going off in an ambulance for frostbite, Bees” I state, winking at her as I run inside the tend, toward the rack of coats. I actively searched for my own, and the coat Pam arrived in, as I curiously looked over at the dance floor. I see Karen, in the middle of the dance floor with Kelly and Meredith. Karen holding a mic, the three girls are singing along to “Wannabe” by the Spice Girls…
Of course, not even surprised. She probably has no idea that I’ve even walked outside.
I find our two coats, already putting mine on as I walk outside with Pam’s. I help her put her coat on, and automatically my mouth meets hers again. Hers, this time, a little more aggressive, more open. My arms wrap around her waist, as my tongue is graciously allowed to meet hers. Her hands lay flat against my chest, as I walk us both closer toward the outer brick wall of Schrute Farms’ “Living Quarters” as Dwight puts it. Before her back could even hit the wall, I pick her up, as she wraps her legs around my waist, my back hitting the wall.
My hands find themselves in her hair, a fantasy of mine since the moment I have met her. Sure, it’s not in the curly state that I’ve dreamt about for years, but she’s fucking gorgeous no matter how she looks. Her with straight hair is definitely something that I would label in the “Reasons I love Pam Beesly” category of my brain.
There’s no way that I can deny the seams of my pants tightening right now. I’ve been at some reminisce of hard since she walked into the reception, the way she looked as she came in just…causing my mind to go to places they really shouldn’t.
But fuck it, I’m not playing it safe anymore. I have Pam, the Pam, my Pam, up against a wall right now, making out with her. I know I want her. I hope she wants me too…
“Hey,” I whisper from a deep place inside my throat. “Hi,” she responds, her eyes fluttering open. Her eyes are dark, a darkened green at least six shades darker than normal. I have an idea. One that I absolutely hope she agrees to.
“Do you trust me?,” I ask, placing her back down onto the ground, staring directly down at her. I watch as she shakes her head, “Absolutely,” she responds.
“Great,” I state in my current scruffy voice, as I take her hand and walk us toward the backside of the “Living Quarters.” I saw this as I was parking earlier, making a quick comment to Karen about how it must be the ‘choice hookup spot’ for Schrute Farms’ events. She, quick to shut down my joke, blatantly ignored me.
Who knew that a simple joke was what was leading me to where I am tonight.
I walk her to the front of this large, barn-like shed, behind what I can only assume is Dwight’s actual house. Unlike a barn, however, it’s a rustic shade of yellow, with windows on both sides. And it’s unlocked, as I presumed it would be.
I offer Pam a smirk, as I open this shed up. I find a light-switch, appropriately to the right side of the door. Once illuminated, the shed is only partially filled on the left side: a bunch of green storage totes, covered in red lids stacked on top of each other. I’m led to assume this shed houses Dwight’s stored Christmas decor. Before I’m even able to process that this structure is as cold as it is outside, Pam notices a huge, propane heater seated on the left side of the shed, and turns it on for us.
“Thanks,” I offer her, unable to keep my eyes off of her own. “You’re welcome,” she responds, as her and I collectively walk toward each other. Our lips meeting instantaneously, picking up where we previously left off. My tongue given automatic access to her own, my hands running up and down her sides. I’ve been dreaming of this for months, years: her body up against mine like this, my lips trying to touch every ounce of her body, eliciting moans out of her that send all the blood in my body straight to my cock.
I can’t help myself, walking her and I over to a bare wall on the right side of the shed, backing her into it, the small “mmfph” as her back hits the wall causing me to smirk against her lips. She follows suit, not sure if it’s alcohol-induced confidence, or genuine confidence, but I’ll take it regardless.
“Wait, Jim,” she stutters, pulling her lips away from mine and placing her right hand up on my chest. “What about Karen?” she asks me, the utter sound of that name causing anger to fuel through me.
I place my hands on her hips, pulling her as close to me as physically possible. “Pam Beesly,” I whisper, as I begin to pepper kisses down her neck. “Why the actual fuck would I want to worry about her, when I have you?” My mouth, trailing to the corner of her neck and shoulder, before landing on her ear. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that Karen was the one whose eyes I’ve had mine on all night,” I continue, as I slide my right hand up her side. “That she was the one in this shed with me right now,” I lean her back into the wall, my left hand slamming the wall next to her, as my right hand makes its way to her chin. “That she’s the one causing my dick to twitch to the idea of seeing you come”
And instantly, her mouth, tongue, met mine again. I instantly reciprocate, needing her close to me again. My hands reach the buttons of her jacket, undoing each one-by-one, until the garment slips down to the floor. Her hands reach for the zipper of my own jacket, dragging it down to find its place on the floor next to her own.
“Jim,” she whispers against the grain of my lips, “Touch me,” she says, pulling on the lapel of my jacket, her chest brushing up against mine. If all the blood wasn’t already between my legs, all for her, it is now. My lips find the crease of her neck, yet again, loving the little sounds she creates for me. Just for me. My hands, making their way up her stomach, to her perfectly sculpted breasts. Being able to actually touch her in ways I’ve only dreamt of, leaves me in a euphoric high that I absolutely doubt I could ever come down from. Her head whips back against the wall, her back arches as I knead her breasts through this brown piece of fabric that is just, in the way at this point.
Removing my lips from hers, I bring my lips to her ear, my hands still working her breasts. “As gorgeous this dress is on you, it’s in my way,” I whisper, as I move my hands up toward her shoulders, brushing her shawl off of her shoulders. She quickly kicks the brown heels she was waiting off to the sides, removing her eyes from mine for the quickest second, only to return them to me. My lips find their way back onto hers, my hands sliding to her sides, and up her back to find the zipper at the top of her dress. I begin to slide the zipper down her back, brushing it off of her shoulders quickly as the zipper hits the swell of her lower back.
I gaze down at her, smirking a tad, my eyes full-blown with lust by now. She, clad in only the laciest, pink bra and panty set I’ve ever seen in my entire life. It’s like I’m eye-fucking her at this point, the way I’m staring at her. But, can I help it? Fuck no.
I slide my hands up to her shoulders, fingering the silky strap of the pink bra, as I hook my pointer finger underneath it and slide it down her goose-bump covered arm. I feel a swell of pride at the breath she sucked in, sobering me up just a bit more. Moving quicker on the other side, before deftly unhooking the bra from behind her. "You don't know how long I’ve been wanting to do this," I murmur low into her ear, "and I gotta say, pink is certainly your color." I weigh her breasts in his hands, feeling her tremble slightly below my hands. She’s putty in my hands at this point, and as I slide my right hand down her torso, to the side of her panties, my own breath sucking in as the reality of what was about to happen weighs me down.
"Please don't stop," she begs of me. My mouth capturing hers again before hooking my fingers into both sides and pulling them down roughly. “Who said I want to?” growls from the depths of my throat, as my right hand slides up her left leg, finding its way in-between her legs, my thumb circling the small bud that elicits a “fuck, Jim” and her arching her back. I smirk against the grain of her neck, drowning in the delicious sound of my name off of her tongue. She grabs my tie, pulling me closer to her as my palm hits her clit, rubbing two digits back and forth against her opening. As I slide my two fingers past her lips, loving the traction of being inside of her as I begin pumping back and forth. Her hands make their way into my hair, pulling and just grasping at me.
“Jim,” she moans into my ear. “I’ve never had this done to me before,” she pants between movements of my fingers. I let out a slight chuckle, “Glad that I get the absolute pleasure of being the first,” pushing my palm harder against her clit and eliciting the loudest moan on the word pleasure. “Tell me, Pam. When was the last time someone wanted to make you come the way I want to right now?” I ask, wanting to crash my lips back onto hers again, allow my tongue to go rampant against hers. “Never,” she answers, her lips answering my need to kiss her again, her graciously allowing my tongue to dance with hers.
I can feel her getting close. I want her, need her to go first. My free left hand, making their way up her side to her left breast. I, grazing the pad of my thumb against her nipple, love the look of her moaning against my hands. My lips. “Cmon baby,” I groan. “Come for me. Come all over my hand, all over my fingers” I plead, adding a third digit inside of her, as her mouth creates a large “O.”
In three pumps of 3 digits, she’s falling apart around my fingers, as she screams my name in ecstasy. I milk out her climax, allowing her to come down from the high before removing my fingers from her. “Holy fuck, Jim,” she whimpers, watching how fucking gorgeous she looks like in this light, post-climax. I take my three fingers in my mouth, tasting every ounce of her on me. Her taste is intoxicating, something I could never get over. “You taste so good, baby” I tell her, desiring more of her. “I-I,” she stutters, looking me up and down as I stand there, a horny mess. “You’re too clothed,” she answers herself in the sexiest tone I’ve ever heard come from her mouth.
Her lips meet mine, as she and I both rush to get my suit jacket off. Her hands find my tie, undoing it with such ease that must come from practice. Her hands find the buttons of my dress shirt, undoing each one by one, until they land on my belt. As she unbuckles it, her hand grazes against my seams, causing a deep moan from my throat. “God, holy fuck, Pam,” I let out, as she successfully removes my belt, unbuttoning my black pants. Quickly, I’m stripped of my dress shoes and pants, left in only my white undershirt and boxer-briefs. It’s not enough, not fair that she’s the only one completely undressed here. I pull my undershirt off from behind my head, wanting her to have the satisfaction of completely undressing me.
Her hands lay on my chest, sliding their way down to the waistband of my boxer briefs, until she’s hooking the sides, pulling them down in similar fashion to my actions previously. I sigh as my clear as night erection is freed, her hand grasping it as quickly as it was free. I bite my lip, as she begins stroking my cock, swallowing hard. “Pam,” the only word I can comprehend, speak, moan. “God Pam, please don’t stop,” I beg of her, melting to each and every touch. She places her lips on mine once more, as she slides down onto her knees. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know what she has planned for me, or my cock.
She takes me in her mouth instantly, my eyes fluttering shut automatically. The feeling of her mouth wrapped around my cock is other-worldly, euphoric. I’ve never felt anything as good as this in my entire life. My mind utterly foggy, unable to produce words other than her name, a few deities, and the word fuck. I can feel my release coming quickly, but…as badly as I’d want to come in her mouth, let her know how I taste, there’s only one way I want her to know me tonight.
“Baby,” I stop her, loving how her eyes shoot right up to me as I say that word. “As much as I love what you’re doing to me right now, I don’t wanna come unless I’m inside of you.”
Quickly, I pick her up from the floor, wrapping her legs around my hips. My left hand on her hip as my right leads me to her entrance, teasing her before slipping myself through to her core.
You know what I said about how it felt with her mouth wrapped around my cock? Yeah, I was wrong. This feeling is the most euphoric feeling I have ever had. She feels so, so good around me, as if this part of her was designed, crafted specifically for me. She’s perfect, godly, worlds better than I could have ever dreamed of this moment to be.
I want, need to feel her climax around me again, watch in utter beauty of her. “That’s right, baby,” I grunt into her ear, unable to help myself, “You feel so good against my cock, Pam. You’re so fucking gorgeous,” I tell her, as I run my hand through her slightly curling hair. I place my forehead against hers, sliding my hand in between our bodies to that small bud, yet again. I elicit a “Holy shit, Jim” out of her, pumping in and out of her faster than I could ever imagine. “Jim I’m, I’m” the only thing she can say, as her walls crumble around me, an “O” shape her mouth makes as she comes down from her high, yet again.
Her beauty as she climaxes causing me to adjust my speed, close myself. “Jim, come inside of me baby,” she whispers in a post-coital, tired tone, just the sexiest words I ever wanted to hear, that triggers my own orgasm. I finish inside of her, slowing my speed until I slide her down the wall, pulling out of her before she sits down, I plopping down next to her . She finds herself snuggled up to my right, both of us carrying a smile on our faces.
“Holy fuck,” I state, out of breath. “Pam, are you okay?” I ask, still smiling as I hold her closer than I feel like I ever have before. She takes a deep breath, “I’m good, Jim. So good,” she responds, as I run my hand through her hair once again. “Yeah?” I jokingly ask, leaving us in silence for a while, processing what just happened.
I’ve sobered up completely, I know what we just did, and how entirely wrong it was. I left my drunk girlfriend down at the reception, pissed off at me already, to make a fool of herself. I just cheated on her, fucked another woman while on the same property as her.
But, I look down at Pam, the woman I am irrevocably in love with, and know how worth it this was…
This can’t be it though, can’t just be one time that we never mention again, forget that ever happened. I want more, I want her each and every day of my life, like I have since meeting her.
“Pam?” I ask, my hand gravitating toward a piece of hair conveniently in the way of the green orbs she calls eyes. I move it away from her face, keeping my hand in her hair. “Hm?” she asks, lost in a haze after what transpired. “What are we going to do now?” I ask. Worry seeps into her eyes, the reality of what we’ve done hitting her in that very moment. I know what she’s thinking: “Jim, what did we just do? You’re dating someone, how could we have done this?” It’s written all over her face, the fear. “Jim, you have a girlfriend, how on Earth could we have let this happen?” she panics. She begins to breathe heavy, but not enough before I catch her cheeks in the palms of my hands, my lips capturing hers again, in the softest kiss I’ve probably placed on her so far tonight. She gasps, but reciprocates, feeling her tenseness ease down. I pull back, our noses touching as I look her deep in the eyes. “Pam, I want you, okay? Your inside jokes, your incredible artistic ability, your silly texts at night when you’ve drank too much, of which I miss, by the way,” I smile, as a small smirk appears on her lips. “Your amazing smile that gets me through the most boring days, your gorgeous eyes that I can’t help but stare in every chance I get, your…your everything, Pam. I want to be yours.” I shake my head, smiling. “I always have, and I will always want to,” I reassure her. “Hell, I’ll go back to the tent right now and end things so there’s nothing holding us back anymore.”
She begins to chuckle, her right hand attempting to hide it. “Right now? You’ll go down there right now in your birthday suit?” she jokingly asks me, causing me to start laughing as well. God, I’ve missed this lately: being able to laugh along with her. “Okay, maybe not right now, right now Beesly, but you know what I mean,” I respond.
“You’d do that, for me?” she asks, placing her hand on my chest. I place my own hand overtop of hers. “I’d do this a million times, over and over again for you, Pam,” I whisper, enclosing her lips against mine yet again. “I’d do the same for you, Jim,” she whispers against my lips, as she and I find ourselves smiling as we kiss.
I quickly pull away, not wanting to waste another second being tied down to someone other than her. “I love you, Pam,” I smile whilst saying. She looks down at the floor, then back up to me. “I love you too, Jim,” she answers back, smiling back at me.
Continuing to smile at her, I grab each article of clothing of mine that laid in a pile to our north. As I dress myself, attempting to make it seem as if my suit was on my body the entire time I was missing from the reception, I start to dread my upcoming conversation with my girlfriend. Karen. I’m in deep shit.
She’s drunk, she may not even remember me breaking up with her at this wedding. And if she sobered up by now? She’d make a huge scene. But, as I look over at Pam, who's basically fully dressed by now, I see why her getting angry at me would be worth it. I’d finally have her. To myself.
Once I’m finally dressed, winter jacket back on, hair fixed to a normal state rather than in a “Just hooked up in a shed” state, I shut the heater off. Pam turns the lights off, and we make our way back toward the reception. Fortunately, nobody is hanging around outside of the tent to see that she and I walked out of a shed. Together. “Bees?” I ask her, before we make it anywhere near the tent. “Yes?,” she responds. “Did you drive yourself here? I didn’t see your car parked,” I genuinely ask, wondering how she got here. “Oh no, my cousin dropped me off. She figured I would want to have drinks in my system. She’s offered to pick me up as well,” she looks down at the ground while finishing her last statement. “Well, if you weren’t so busy,” I start. “I’d ask you if you’d want to see my new apartment. I’ve got some leftover pizza, maybe a bottle of non-German or Beet wine in the back of my fridge, but…” I jest with her, as she cuts me off. “I’d love to, Halpert. I’ll call Isabel and let her know while you, um, you know…” She trails off.
“Hey,” I reassure her. “I’ll be fine, nothing she can say could top seeing you on the other side of it,” I place the slightest kiss on her forehead, letting go of her as I allow her to go back inside first, diverting anyone assuming what transpired actually occurred to them.
Well, if I'm going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly.
I make my way into the venue, noticing that Pam is at her seat again, while everyone else is up on their feet.
I watch as Karen seated at our table, visibly angry, sipping on a glass of water. Looking over to Pam for confidence, she nods her head as she takes a sip of water as well, I walk toward Karen.
Well, Halpert, I say to myself. There is no turning back now.
“Jim, where the fuck have you been?” Karen snarls at me, slamming her glass down on the table. “I slipped on the fucking dance floor over some ice, and fell on my ass. Andy came to my rescue instead of you. I wanted to leave but no, you disappeared on everyone.”
I take a deep breath, allowing myself to finally say what’s been on my mind lately. “Karen, we need to talk.”
“Are you fucking serious, Halpert?” Karen asks, in true vexation. I knew this wasn’t going to go well in any way possible, but this was worse than I could have imagined. “You’re ending this because I’m moving ‘too fast’ for you? What does that even mean?” She asks. I, taking another deep breath, explain myself. “I’m sick of the arguing, Karen. You’re pushing for me to turn into someone I’m just not. Wanting me to move apartments, apply for a corporate position, telling me I need to ‘change my hair to look professional.’ It’s like I’m not good enough for you the way I am.” She rolls her eyes at me, in annoyance. “Bullshit, Jim” she spits at me, “You deserve better than what you have here in Scranton. You could have a career in New York, a great life, yet you choose to stay here, hung up on some gi-” She stops herself, coming to a realization that may leave me literally fucked in a few seconds. Her mouth opens wide, “This is her fault, isn’t it? I’m gonna hurt that bitch for co-” She walks toward the tent, as I grab her arm before she could even leave. “You go anywhere near her Karen, I’ll end your career here in an instant. One call to David Wallace about you attempting to harm a cohort at a work-sanctioned event, and your ass is done. Goodbye to working for corporate.” I angrily state, it takes over my expression toward her. No way in hell is going anywhere near my Beesly. “You want the truth, Karen? Fine. Yes, I’m still madly fucking in love with Pam. And I walked away from the reception to try to stop myself from falling right back into that trap, but it won’t stop. I don’t want to hurt you anymore, Karen.” I admit to her, admit to myself.
And that, is what does me in.
As tears start trailing down her face, it kills me inside to the point where my eyes may mirror her own actions. She shaking her head, leaves me with a “Fuck you, Jim,” as she walks toward her car, I assuming she’s leaving the wedding without any warrant.
I feel like a total ass, dumping that on her here, somewhere surrounded by people she has to see Monday morning, including myself. But at the same time, feels as if a three-hundred pound weight was lifted off of my shoulders. I was an ass to her, she was right. But, I couldn’t do this to her anymore. Couldn’t just play with her feelings, her time, when my heart wasn’t in it. Wasn’t with her…
I sigh, heavy-heartedly returning to the reception. I look up, to hear the end of “Just the Girl” by The Click Five playing, as the DJ begins to thank everyone for coming out to the wedding. Must be the last dance. In some poetic justice, I see just the girl I’m looking for on the dance floor, spinning around with Kelly, Meredith, and Phyllis. There’s those Beesly moves I’ve been waiting for. For the first time tonight, I found myself on the dance floor. I walk toward the group, hearing “Hey Jim, there you are!” from Kelly, as Pam’s eyes twinkle, locking with mine. “It’s done, it’s over,” my eyes say, as I take her hands in mine and finish the night dancing with the love of my life.
The song ends, and the dance floor crowd dissipates, crowding to their tables for their items or to congratulate the now Mr. and Mrs. Vance. Pam and I absentmindedly grab our coats, take out time to say goodnight to our coworkers and the married couple, and walk toward the parking lot once everyone else has shuffled off of the property. Waltzing hand-in-hand toward my silver Saab.
And, in the wee hours of the morning, hours after eliciting two more orgasms out of her in my own bed, I lay awake.
Never in a million years, would have I expected to attend a wedding at Schrute Farms. But never in a million years, would I expect attending a wedding at Schrute Farms lead to finally, finally having the love of my life in my arms.
I guess, thank you Dwight?