Pam woke up to the morning light blaring in her eyes, accentuating the throbbing in her head. She groaned and rolled her face into the pillow to block the stream of light coming through the window. Her memories from last night were missing beginnings and endings and some parts in between. There was tequila—lots of tequila—based on the dryness in her mouth and how she had to pause to wait for the room to stop spinning after sitting up.
She saw the Advil and water sitting on her nightstand and frowned. Then rapidly her eyes widened and whipped to Roy’s side of the bed. Jim was there last night.
They hadn’t…
Had they?
She looked down and realized she was still in her work clothes.
Phew.
But...he had been there. Had she asked him to stay, or was that just a thought she had in her restless, alcohol-induced sleep?
She brought her feet to the floor, tossed four Advil into her mouth, and chased it with the lukewarm water. Rubbing her eyes and groaning with how terrible she felt, she dragged her feet through the hallway to start the water for her tea. But before she got to the kitchen, she was startled by something else.
A very familiar, very floppy head of hair was resting on one of the throw pillows on the couch.
He stayed.
She tiptoed over to the couch to peer at him. His mouth was slightly open and he was curled up so he could fit his body on all the cushions. It seemed to her like all he could find during the night was the decorative blanket she kept on the back of the couch, but it only covered him from shoulder to thigh. She smiled and grabbed his suit coat from the floor to carefully drape it over his legs.
He had stayed.
She decided to take a quick shower before Jim woke up, seeing as she was still in her wrinkly work attire and smelled like stale alcohol. With one more glance at her best friend, she slipped into the bathroom.
After her shower, she found Jim still asleep on the couch. She paced around the apartment, shuffling the clutter and nervously waiting for him to so much as even stir. She finally decided she would start making some breakfast in hopes the smells would lure him out of his slumber, but upon opening the fridge, she remembered that she had forgotten to go grocery shopping last night like she had planned earlier in the week and had instead gone out with Jim—and apparently stayed in with him as well. So if they wanted something besides deli meat, maraschino cherries, sour cream, and some questionable leftovers...they would have to leave the apartment.
Her stomach rumbled and she glanced over him, mentally willing him to wake up. But he looked so peaceful. It was strange, seeing him here, having him be immersed in her life outside of work. Something stirred inside her as she watched his chest rise and fall rhythmically. Subconsciously, she imagined herself slipping next to him, resting her head on his chest and being lured back to sleep by his languid breaths and heartbeat in her ears.
She quickly shook her head, remembering it was Jim and that he was just her best friend. That was all it was. He had been a listening ear when she needed it and she was grateful for that.
She made a mental note to call Roy. She was still furious with him but maybe they could patch things up. Just like every other time.
With her eyes still fixed on him, he began to stir. She scrambled and grabbed a magazine from the coffee table, opening to a random page. Jim rolled to his side, rubbed his eyes with his fingers, then propped himself up on his elbow.
“Hey.” His voice was deeper and thick with sleep.
“Good morning,” she responded as casually as she could.
Jim pointed to the magazine in her hand. “Kobe’s doing well this season, huh?”
Her brow furrowed and then realized the magazine in her hand was a copy of Roy’s ESPN Magazine. She set it back on the table, cheeks flushed. “Have to keep up with football, you know me.”
“He plays basketball, Beesly.”
“Right,” she laughed nervously. Jim was on her couch, his hair poking up in every direction. “So, you didn’t go home last night,” she mustered out slowly.
Jim yawned as his eyes spanned the couch. “So it appears.”
“You didn’t have to stay.”
He looked at his hands for a brief second before glancing up at her with a one-shouldered shrug and a half-smile. “You asked me to.”
Jim seemed to sense her slight embarrassment, so he interjected before she could respond. “You weren’t in...great shape last night, so I figured I should stay and make sure you were okay.”
She wasn’t positive if he was talking about her physical state or mental, because she vaguely remembered telling him about Roy’s drunken escapades.
“Well, thank you,” she said quietly.
He fiddled with the blanket edge. “So...how are you feeling?”
She thought about it for a second, mulling it over. “I’m fine,” she mustered with a small smile that never reached her eyes.
He nodded, brows furrowing slightly. “Good,” he said. But his eyes said something more like: Are you?
The way he was looking at her made her feel anxious, like their conversation was about to take a hard left into Roy territory, and she wasn’t quite ready for that yet. So she changed the subject. “But I’m starving and I apparently forgot to buy any food this week. I was going to make you breakfast as a thank you for, you know...listening.”
All he did was give her another sad smile then fix his eyes in front of him. “You know, I have food…” he glanced at her through the corner of his eye. “At my place.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond, so luckily he kept talking. “I just mean...I have to take you to go get your car anyway and I live like a block from Poor Richards. I also make a mean omelette. If you want, that is.”
It was logical: She was hungry. She needed her car. He lived so close. At least, that’s what she told herself after she had agreed before he had even finished speaking.
It was logical.
After picking up her car, she followed him back to his apartment. They both got out of their cars and she met him at the base of the stairs.
“Just so you know, my roommate Mark is kind of a slob, so I don’t know what we are about to walk into.”
Pam raised an eyebrow. “Riiiiight…Mark is the slob. I just rode in your car, Halpert.”
“This is fair.”
She chuckled and followed him into his apartment. Her eyes darted around, taking in what she saw. She had to admit that she had always wondered what his apartment looked like—what he did when he wasn’t at work. It all sort of screamed “bachelor” but she could see little touches that she knew were all Jim. She saw an array of baseball caps hanging neatly next to the coats that she just somehow knew were his. There was a shelf full of tattered books—she knew he loved to read, but rarely showed that side of himself. The entry had a framed picture of Bill Murray from Caddyshack. No question there.
Jim tossed his keys into a bowl on the counter. From the other room, another voice called out. “Halpert! You didn’t come home last night!” The voice, who she assumed belonged to Mark, got closer. “Did you get som—oh. Hello.”
Pam blushed and raised her hand to wave.
“Mark, this is Pam.” Mark’s eyes widened and she swore she could see recognition on his face when Jim said her name. “I crashed on her couch last night.”
Mark’s eyes went from Jim’s head to his toes, taking in the disheveled clothing he had worn to work the day before and Pam thought she saw him wink at Jim. “Cool. Nice to meet you, Pam.”
“You too!”
Mark grabbed a different pair of keys from the bowl. “I’m heading to Sarah’s house. I’m probably going to ‘crash on her couch’ tonight so don’t wait up for me.”
She was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to see Jim’s middle finger shoot up behind his back as Mark walked away snickering, but she definitely did.
Jim tasked Pam with chopping onions and green peppers while he quickly showered. With the sound of the water hitting the shower floor, she found it nearly impossible not to flashback the smooth plane of his back and wet t-shirts and the freaking ab muscles she could probably wash laundry on. She concentrated harder on chopping.
Jim finally came back into the kitchen wearing jeans and a baseball tee, his hair still wet. “Okay, how’s it coming?”
She proudly displayed her hard work on the cutting board.
He rubbed his hands together. “Perfect! Now we need the eggs and the Halpert secret: marbled cheddar AND pepper Jack cheese.”
She smiled brightly. “Show me your ways!”
Pam took the final bite of her omelette and leaned back in her chair. “I want like four more.”
“Good hangover food, huh?” he laughed.
She closed her eyes, savoring her last bite. “Totally.”
Jim stood up and cleared their plates from the table. This felt like the appropriate time she should thank him for breakfast and head back to her own apartment. If you counted work, they had been in at least the same vicinity for over 24 hours. She should go grocery shopping, maybe start a new painting, clean the apartment...call Roy.
But she didn’t want to.
“So, any plans today?” she asked lightly.
Jim placed their dishes in the sink and turned around. “I actually have a date. With Princess Peach,” he winked. “I’ve been trying to beat Super Mario because apparently I’m 12.”
The way her stomach dropped when he said ”date” was unexpected, and the relief that it was just a joke even more so. “Oh, and how does Mario feel about that?”
Jim chuckled. “We’re cool now. Came to an understanding.”
She smiled, suddenly (and surprisingly) anxious to find a way to stay. “Do you have Mario Kart?”
His eyes rolled. “Do I have Mario Kart? I’m only the reigning champion of the Halpert family.”
“Well...I’m the reigning champion of my family...so…” She raised her eyebrows to him. “Maybe we should see who is the best. For science.”
He grinned. “For science.”
She practically skipped behind him into the living room, where he loaded the game into the console and flipped on the TV. He handed her a red controller. “This is my lucky controller, but I have a feeling you need it more than me.”
Pam scoffed. “So we’re starting the trash talk early, huh?”
He shrugged, navigating the screen to the first race. “All I’m saying is that if I could get paid for winning Mario Kart races, I wouldn’t have to be selling any paper.”
She smirked. “Don’t write a check that your thumbs can’t cash, Halpert.”
A minute later Jim was muttering curse words under his breath. “How are you so good at this game?!”
“Practice, Jim. Practice and humility.”
They ended up playing nearly every race. Toward the end of Rainbow Road, Pam was just barely ahead of him, inching toward the finish line. Suddenly, Jim swiped the controller from her hands.
“Hey!!” she yelled through her laughter, lunging across his lap where he was holding it out of reach with his long arms. “That is not an appropriate response!”
Jim stood up, trying to steer his own player on the screen with one hand while holding Pam’s controller above his head.
“You really are 12!!” she huffed, jumping up to try and reach it while he dodged her with his arms and elbows. That’s it. Drastic times call for drastic measures. She took both hands and dug them into his ribs, tickling him until he collapsed to the couch and she stole her controller back, finishing the race ahead of him.
She sat back down next to him and raised her arms in victory, both of them breathing heavy.
“Talk about not having an appropriate response,” Jim said. He turned his head toward her. “Tickling, Beesly?!”
“Cheaters don’t deserve mercy.”
Jim’s phone buzzed on the coffee table and he picked it up. “Crap. I forgot I was watching my niece today while my brother and his wife pack for their move.”
“Is she supposed to be coming here?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, in like ten minutes.”
“Do you want me to…”
Jim held up a finger so he could answer the phone. “Hey man. No, we’re still good for tonight. Uh, I have a friend from work over, is it cool if she’s here too? Cool. See you soon.”
He shut his phone and looked at her. “Sorry, maybe I should have asked if you wanted to stay first. She’s only five but I can always use reinforcements,” he laughed.
She smiled wide. “I’d love to stay.”
Jim wasn’t wrong. Reinforcements were definitely needed. Vanessa was downright adorable—curly blonde hair, dimples so deep you got lost in them, and the most contagious little laugh. But if the Tasmanian Devil and the Energizer Bunny had a love child, it would be Vanessa.
They managed to keep her entertained for a few hours with Duck Duck Goose (pretty exhausting with just three people), playing at the park next to Jim’s apartment complex, and lots of hopscotch that Pam drew with chalk on the sidewalk outside. Finally she started to slow down and they went inside.
“Pam,” Jim said, looking toward his niece. “Did you know Vanessa wants to be an artist when she grows up? Vanessa, Pam is really good at art.”
Vanessa’s eyes lit up. “Really?! Will you draw with me?”
Pam didn’t often click right away with kids, so she loved this window to connect with Vanessa. “I would love to!”
Jim gave Vanessa a high five. “I’ll make us some grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner and you two can draw while they cook. Pam, I have some paper and colored pencils in my desk drawer upstairs. Do you want to go grab them?”
Pam agreed and found her way to Jim’s room. It was neater than she expected, based on how he kept his desk at work. His bed was made, no dirty socks on the floor. He had a guitar set up in the corner. Had he ever mentioned he played guitar? She ran her hand against the back of his desk chair, looking around his room for a minute, lingering her eyes on his bed, then remembering why she was there.
She opened the bottom desk drawer first. She picked up a small stack of printer paper and the box of colored pencils when another small box caught her eye. Scrawled in Jim’s handwriting was her last name and suddenly there was no restraint in the world. She carefully took the box out of the drawer as her pulse quickened. Slipping the lid off, her heart skidded to a stop. To anyone else, the contents would look random and strange. But she recognized every one of them.
There was a Boggle timer. She remembered it from when they had played during a lunch break and he wouldn’t stop finding dirty words, leaving both their sides in stitches from laughter. Her grandpa had died that week and she knew he was doing everything he could to cheer her up.
There was a miniature golf pencil. Once on a “team building” outing Michael arranged, they went mini golfing and they had made a bet that she would beat him. Jim sunk a hole in one to beat her and she threw the pencil at him, narrowly missing his left eye. They laughed anyway.
There were hot sauce packets. One time Bob Vance had paid to have a hot dog vendor come to the parking lot for the employees in the business park. Pam grabbed three packets of what she thought was ketchup but had turned out to be hot sauce. Jim never let her live it down.
There was a cassette tape. She rolled it over in her hands to see the names of the songs he had put on it. He had listed about ten songs, all of which he had suggested to her at some point.
Her throat was tight as she surveyed the contents again, delicately running her fingers over them. They were obviously for her or about her. Why did he save them? She had always assumed he thought of her as a best friend and nothing more...but what if…
“Pam!” a little voice called from downstairs. “You gonna come draw with me?”
Pam slammed the lid back on the box and shoved it back in the desk drawer, heart pounding and head reeling. “Coming!” she yelled back.
Hastily grabbing the paper and pencils, she went back downstairs. She stopped before entering the kitchen and looked down to see her hands trembling. All at once things felt...different. She peered around the corner to see Jim at the stove with Vanessa on his back. They were singing “We Will Rock You” by Queen while Vanessa drummed on his head lightly with some rubber spatulas.
Her heart seemed to be unable to decide what to do—start or stop—but a smile came to her face anyway. He would make an amazing dad someday. And subconsciously she realized she wanted to be there to witness it. This window had been opened, and memories of him making her happy flooded in like a cool spring breeze. She felt the urge from somewhere deep inside to shimmy through it and meet him on the other side.
But then the ring on her finger got caught on the metaphorical window sill. She was engaged. She loved Roy, didn’t she? She did. They had been through so much together and he treated her well enough. There had been great times in their relationship and now they knew how to work past the rougher times. This was the plan. No matter how many hot sauce packets and Boggle timers she found.
She took a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face for Vanessa, even if she had never felt more confused in her life.
She knew that Jim could pick up on her change in demeanor, judging from the fact that he seemed to always keep an eye on her at all times—gauging to see if she was okay. She did her best to act normal, but acting was never her strong suit.
Jim’s brother came to pick up Vanessa around 6:00. Pam stayed back in the kitchen to help clean up dinner when she heard his footsteps enter back into the kitchen. Her back was to him as she continued doing the dishes, but she just knew his eyes were on her as he was leaning on the doorframe.
“You...want to tell me what’s going on?”
You mean the fact that I basically found your shrine dedicated to me and now I can’t figure out how to feel? she thought, before turning around. She dragged her eyes to meet his. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
He stood up straighter. “Bullshit.”
“Excuse me?”
“C’mon, Pam, you’ve been acting weird ever since you came back and started drawing with Vanessa. I know you.”
Now her heart had really begun to pick up speed. “That’s the problem, Jim,” she whispered. “You know me.”
Now he had taken a few steps toward her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” His tone had changed from concerned to slightly irritated.
She suddenly felt the sting of tears and fought them back the best she could. “You know me better than anyone, Jim. And I thought it was just because we were great friends but I’m starting to wonder…”
He was only an arm length away now and she couldn’t quite read his expression, but she could hear his breathing pick up and he seemed nervous. “Wonder what?” he said slowly.
She looked to the floor and hugged her arms against her chest. “I...found the box in your desk drawer. I was looking for paper and…”
“Damnit,” he muttered as he closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to find it. What...why do you…”
He opened his eyes and put his hands behind his head. He looked at her in a way that made her want to tear her gaze away with how intense it was. His eyes were dark, almost sad, as he responded in a shaky, low voice.
“Why do you think, Pam?”
She whispered so quietly that almost she didn’t hear it. “I don’t know.”
Jim closed the gap between them. He was inches from her now and she could see the muscles in his jaw clenching as he fought off his own tears. Tentatively, he raised his hand and ran it down her arm, bringing it down to her side. He reached her wrist and grabbed it tightly as he lowered his head to hers. The blood coursing through her veins was white hot and any rational thoughts were being obliterated by his touch.
Jim swallowed hard and rolled his forehead against hers. “I think you do,” he whispered.
Her eyes fluttered shut. His other hand slid up to her face and he cradled it, wiping a runaway tear from her cheek with his thumb. She finally met his eyes, brimmed with tears, searching hers.
“And I think you feel the same way.”
She let out a quick sob, then crashed her lips into his. Quickly, he brought his other hand up to her head, tangling her hair in his fingers as he groaned into her mouth, which was now open and welcoming his eagerly. He backed her against the counter with his hips, and she completely lost herself in the way he was touching her, kissing her. She grabbed his waist, pulling him impossibly closer to her, then ran her fingers up the back of his shirt, his skin warm and taut under her own. He lifted his arms up and she pulled it over his head, tossing it to the ground, hands now running freely across his chest.
He stopped and looked at her, his eyes dark and wanting. He grabbed her by the waist, lifting her up on the counter in one swift motion while she crossed her arms in front of her and pulled her own shirt over her head. Jim seemed to drink in the sight of her with a gentle shake of his head, then softly whispered her name against the soft spot under her ear, trailing his lips down her neck and onto her collarbone, while his hands delicately grazed over the thin cotton fabric of her bra, eliciting a soft moan from deep inside her.
Maybe it was the way he said her name, or the way his hands were spanning her back possessively. Maybe it was the fact that when she opened her eyes briefly, she saw she was in Jim’s kitchen, and it was his lips, not her fianc’s that were finding their way down the valley of her chest.
Whatever it was, it made her jolt out of the daze she was in.
She was engaged.
She was not this girl.
And she needed to leave.
Her voice caught in her throat, she mustered out his name.
“Jim…”
“Hmm?” he hummed against the top of her breast.
Tears sprung to her eyes as she slammed them shut and gripped his shoulders.
“Jim,” she whispered through her tears.
He pulled back to look at her, his eyes full of concern. She put her hands around the back of his neck and rested her forehead against his, sobs now racking her chest.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured.
Before he could respond, she grabbed her shirt and slipped off the edge of the counter, throwing it over her head as she nearly ran to the door. She heard him call after her but she never stopped, slamming the door behind her, wiping her eyes furiously with her hands.
She got in her car and drove around the corner where she pulled over because she couldn’t see through the hot tears in her eyes.
Once she was seemingly drained of tears, she dragged herself home and straight into her bed, fully clothed. Pulling the covers up to her chin, she stared out the window into the night sky and forced herself to take deep breaths even though the weight of what just happened sat on her chest, threatening to crush her entirely.
Her phone began buzzing on her nightstand. She glanced at it, then rolled over. A single tear soaked into her pillow as her phone illuminated the words “Jim Halpert” into the cold darkness of her room.
Cheaters don’t deserve mercy.
Author's Chapter Notes:
“I tried my best to never let you in to see the truth
And I've never opened up
I've never truly loved 'till you put your arms around me
And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go”
The chapter title of this one is from the song “Arms” by Christina Perri, which is actually the song that inspired the entire story.
This chapter is a bit longer than the others but for good reason, I promise. Enjoy!
And I've never opened up
I've never truly loved 'till you put your arms around me
And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go”
The chapter title of this one is from the song “Arms” by Christina Perri, which is actually the song that inspired the entire story.
This chapter is a bit longer than the others but for good reason, I promise. Enjoy!
