The alarm clock blared and Pam startled awake. She thought it might be hard to sleep with Roy gone, since she was so used to having him next to her. In reality, she had been sleeping like a rock the last few nights—butterflied out across the whole bed, no snoring or blanket hogging to disrupt her.
She sat up in bed and checked her phone. No messages from Roy, but that was expected. In the four days he had been gone, they really only talked briefly on the phone about once a day. If she was being completely honest, sometimes she almost forgot to call.
Shortly after arriving at work and checking her emails and voice messages, the office door swung open and Jim walked in, greeting her with his usual “Morning, Beesly” and a shining smile. Only this time he was carrying a small white paper bag in his left hand that he extended out to her.
“They gave me an extra cinnamon streusel muffin for no charge with my coffee this morning and I know they’re your favorite. Want it? I already ate mine in the car, because, you know. Self-control issues.”
She gasped and snatched it from his hands, eyes wide with delight. “Of course I do! Thank you.”
He gave her a quick wink as he walked past her to his desk and her eyes lingered on him just a little longer than normal before opening the bag. She pulled out the muffin and with it came a small receipt that fluttered to the floor. Upon a quick glance after picking it up, she saw that Jim had actually ordered two muffins, not just the single muffin he had claimed to have ordered. She glanced up toward him, but he was already fully immersed in a sales call. She shuffled papers around her desk, unable to contain the way her lips were curling up.
The rest of the day was monotonous and boring, so pretty normal as far as a day at Dunder Mifflin goes. Jim had a lengthy meeting with a prospective client in Carbondale so he couldn’t distract her, and Michael was actually getting work done, so he wasn’t distracting her either. She much preferred Jim’s antics over Michael’s, but she would have taken anything at that point. The day dragged on, but finally 5:00 rolled around and she headed back to her empty apartment.
At home, she decided to pull out her paints and a fresh, blank canvas. It had been too long since she had done anything but mindlessly sketch out of boredom. Roy would often complain about how much space the easel took up in their small apartment but Roy was in North Carolina doing who knows what, so she was going to paint.
Without a concrete idea of what she was going to paint, she put brush to palette. The white of the canvas transformed into blues, greens, and greys, as she pulled her brush along it. After a couple hours, the long, deliberate strokes began to take shape and she cocked her head to look at the painting. She wasn’t sure what made her paint it. It was definitely more abstract than anything she had painted before, but she had to admit it was one of her better pieces. Against a swirling, slate grey backdrop were two dark figures, standing together, heads close, illuminated by a yellow glow behind them. There was a thin black line connecting the pair.
Swaying isn’t dancing ran through her head.
Quickly she picked the painting off the easel, smudging the corner, and put it in her closet, not caring that it hadn’t dried. Something stirred inside her and she couldn’t dissect what it was. Guilt? Confusion, maybe? But she knew she wouldn’t be keeping the painting.
She wasn’t even sure what made her paint it anyway.
She went into the bathroom and slipped off her engagement ring to wash the paint off her hands, watching the colors blend and swirl as they gurgled down the drain. When she grabbed the hand towel to dry her hands, it dragged along the edge of the sink, taking her ring along with it. It clinked a few times against the porcelain before dropping down the drain, her stomach dropping right along with it.
This had happened once before. Roy was mad, but still shimmied under the sink to retrieve it from the pipes before it got flushed all the way through. But Roy was not here. And she felt exactly zero confidence in herself that she would be able to figure out any of the pipes under the sink.
Biting her nails and pacing for a minute or two, she picked up her phone and dialed.
”Beesly?”
“Jim! Hey. I, uh...I kind of have a problem.”
Within ten minutes, she was standing in the doorway of her bathroom while Jim’s legs poked out from under her sink.
“Okay,” his voice echoed. “I think if I just twist this thing…”
Suddenly water started spraying everywhere as Jim scrambled furiously. Once it finally stopped spraying, there was silence followed by a huge sigh. “Well, that was...not the right thing to twist.”
She swallowed as much laughter as she could.
“I can hear you, Beesly.”
She laughed harder. “Sorry! How’s it, uh...going?”
He grunted as he worked his long frame out from under the sink. He propped his arm on one knee and held up her engagement ring.
“Found it.”
All at once she found herself speechless. Jim Halpert, whose shirt was soaking wet and clinging to his (apparently very toned) chest, was down on one knee holding a diamond ring out to her. He seemed oblivious to what it looked like as he attempted to wipe some of the dripping water off his face with his free arm.
“Pam?”
She quickly shook her head and grabbed the ring, sliding it back onto her finger. “Thank you so much. Sorry about the…” she gestured toward his wet shirt, trying to will herself not to notice how she could see every individual abdominal muscle that definitely didn’t show under his work shirts…
“Oh, it’s fine. I was hot anyway.”
You’re telling m— she caught herself before she could finish the sentence in her head. What was going on with her today?
“Can I grab you one of Roy’s shirts? I’d feel terrible if you had to keep wearing that wet one.”
He waved his hand. “Nah, it’s fine. It’ll dry.”
She gave him an incredulous look. “Jim, it’s literally dripping on my bathroom floor right now. Let me find something for you to change into.”
He shrugged and gave her a half-smile. “If you insist.”
“I do,” she grinned.
Rifling through Roy’s dressers, she found one of his old t-shirts at the bottom that was slightly too small for him now. She figured it would fit Jim since he and Roy were around the same height, but Jim more slender. He was in the bathroom, literally wringing water out of the bottom his shirt into the sink when she approached him
“Here,” she offered. “I’ll just be in the kitchen.”
He took the shirt with a smile and partially shut the door. Meanwhile, Pam remembered that she left Roy’s drawer open, so she went back into their room to close it. But on the way out, she caught sight of Jim in the mirror through the tiny crack in the bathroom door. He was facing away from the mirror so she just saw his back, bare and smooth and damn, all that basketball he played really did him some favors and what was she thinking?!
She rushed past, rubbing her upper arms with her hands, continually trying to convince herself that Jim was her best friend and it was okay to...admire the work one had...put into their…physique...
Okay, she shouldn’t have been looking.
Jim came out from the bathroom, smoothing his wet hair back with his hands. Roy’s t-shirt fit him well, even though he looked rather uncomfortable in it, fiddling with the hem and adjusting the collar. He looked down at the front. “Well, apparently I’m now the 2001 Hot Wing Eating Champion at…” he pulled the shirt out. “...Arooga’s?”
Pam’s face flushed. “Yeah, one of his ‘prouder’ moments in life.”
“Easiest championship I’ve ever won. Just had to know nothing about plumbing.”
Pam chuckled. “You didn’t have to come, you know. I could have found someone who actually knew what they were doing.”
He smiled with a small laugh and suddenly his smile waned a fraction of an inch. He took a breath and leaned his head to the side, looking like he was about to say something—and not one of his usual jokes. It made her stomach twist for some reason, so she changed the subject.
“Hey, I was just going to order some takeout. Want to join me?”
“Is it from Arooga’s?”
She chuckled. “No, it’s not.”
“Then no deal.” He tapped the logo on his shirt. “I’m loyal to my title.”
She laughed and shoved a Chinese takeout menu into his chest. “Just pick something, dork.”
They sat at her kitchen table, sharing stories while they ate. Pam told him about the time when she was five and she named her stuffed horse “Bastard” having never heard the word before. Jim nearly choked on his spring roll.
“That’s amazing. Oh man, I bet your parents loved that.”
“It has become a favorite story in our family, that’s for sure.”
Their conversation continued effortlessly, like it always did. Pam learned all about Jim’s siblings and quickly understood where his love for pranking began. Eventually she caught sight of the clock above the stove. “Holy crap, it’s almost 10:00. We’ve been talking for like three hours.”
Jim crumpled a napkin in his hand, staring at the empty styrofoam container on the table in front of him. He slowly brought his gaze to hers as one corner of his mouth turned up.
“I don’t mind.”
Her smile mirrored his. “Me either.”
He broke their gaze, snapping her back to reality as well. “I should get going.”
Together they cleared the table and Jim grabbed his wet shirt from the back of the kitchen chair beside him. Pam followed him to the door. He turned to face her and before she knew what she was doing, she found her arms extended out toward him. Almost instantaneously his arms were wrapped around her in a tight hug. She snaked hers around his torso, now feeling the muscles she so furiously tried to forget pressed up against her body and under her skin. Without seeking permission, her eyes closed and she inhaled.
But her brain couldn’t seem to make sense of it. His shirt smelled like Roy, but he definitely felt like Jim, and suddenly it all became muddled in her mind. She released her grip and backed up, hugging her arms to her chest.
“Thank you again, Jim. I really appreciate it.”
He grabbed the door and opened it slowly. “Seriously. Any time. Thanks for dinner.”
She raised her hand to wave goodbye as he stepped out and tenderly shut the door behind him.
She stared at the door for a beat before walking over and lowering herself to the couch, nibbling at the nail on her left thumb. She replayed the events of the day, from the muffin to the mirror to the chopsticks. She had felt happy. A kind of happiness that seemed so foreign and she slowly came to the realization that it was because she hadn’t felt that kind of happiness in ages.
Jim had been intruding her thoughts all day, but why? She had known him for years and he was her best friend.
What had changed?
Her thoughts were splintered by the buzzing of her cell phone. She flipped it open.
“Hey babe, sorry I haven’t called today…”
She fiddled with her engagement ring. Jim was a friend. They would always be friends.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Title taken from “Gold Rush” by Taylor Swift, because apparently I can’t stop listening to evermore on repeat.
Chapter End Notes:
The “Bastard” story was taken from my own life and is still my brother’s favorite story to tell at family functions.
Thanks for reading! :)
Thanks for reading! :)
