He's kissing her.
He's kissing her.
He's kissing her!
And she's kissing him back.
And it feels good. It's feels right.
So she lets it happen for a moment. One moment.
But now the moment is over and reason has entered her mind. This can't happen. They can't happen. It needs to stop. She needs to stop it.
So she does. She removes her hands from his hair, immediately missing the feel of the thick, soft strands beneath her fingers, but needing to continue. She moves her hands to his chest, allowing herself only the smallest amount of pleasure at the unexpected muscle she feels through the layers of his clothing as she gently pushes him away.
She's engaged. And he is not her fiance. She can't keep kissing him. She's not that person. She can't be That Person. Roy deserves better than to have his fiance kissing another man just weeks before their wedding.
"I'm sorry. I can't."
Jim expects this. He's not sure what he was thinking, kissing her like that. She's engaged. He allows his eyes to dart back and forth, shocked that he's kissed her, embarrassed to have let himself get so carried away for the second time in ten minutes.
"Yeah."
What was he thinking? Maybe he wasn't. Maybe that was the problem.
"I have to go."
As she begins to speak again, his eyes are drawn back to hers and he thinks that not thinking wasn't such a bad thing. He thinks he should do it more often.
She has to go. She has to leave. When his eyes meet hers she almost stays. Her resolve begins to crumble and she knows she has to leave now.
Now, before she lets him kiss her again. She can tell he's thinking about it.
Now, before she becomes That Person and kisses him before he has the chance to.
Now, before she loses herself completely.
She wasn't lying before, when she said she couldn't. She can't. She's engaged and she has always been honest and faithful. It's who she is. Sometimes she feels it's all she has.
She gathers every last ounce of willpower and strength she has and walks away, leaving him standing there, hands in his pockets, eyes cast downwards while he searches the floor for the strength to move, to breath, to keep living. He's lost in a haze of emotions he can't begin to unravel. He's scared, angry, sad, relieved. He's angry at himself for letting things happen the way they did. He had been planning to tell her he was transferring. How had things gotten so out of control?
Though he knows it's strange under the circumstances, he's relieved. He's relieved that things are out in the open. Relieved he doesn't have to pretend anymore. For better or worse, she knows and that's something.
He's sad. He's sad because he knows things are different now. He's changed things and he doesn't think they can ever go back to the way they were before, when they were friends. Best friends. Best friends. Sure, he'd spent hours thinking about them, together, wondering what it would be like. Sure, a piece of him had died every time she'd mentioned Roy or her wedding or their plans for the weekend. Every time he had to see her with him, kissing him, hugging him. Every time he had to see that hurt expression on her face after Roy said something insensitive or did something to make her upset - or didn't do something that was important to her. But at least they'd been friends. He'd had that. And it was special and real. And now he doesn't know what to expect. So he's scared, too. Scared that he's lost her forever. Even the little piece of her he'd had before was enough. It was something.
He stands there, in the dimly lit office, hands in his pockets, lost in his thoughts and taking comfort in the feel of the fabric enveloping his hands. Because at least that is familiar and something he understands.
He's not sure how long he stands there but his feet eventually find a way to do what his mind cannot and get him to his car. He makes it home without knowing how and somehow finds his way to his room. He crawls into bed, fully clothed, and falls into a fitful sleep. For the first time in living memory he does not dream.
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Not wanting to see or talk to anyone, Pam calls a cab to take her home. She knows it's impractical and that she should just track down Angela for a ride home. But she needs the time to sort through what has just happened, needs the time to be alone, if only for a few minutes. Anyway, Angela had been with Dwight the last time Pam had seen her, and Pam doesn't feel like being with both of them, together. She still hasn't confirmed that there's anything going on between them, but her suspicions are strong and the last thing she wants is to be in the presence of two people who are sure about each other, who know what they want, and who are certain about their relationship, however strange and unusual it may seem to those on the outside.
So she takes a cab home and the cabbie is unusually talkative. After a few attempts at engaging Pam in conversation and receiving nothing but grunts and tight smiles in return, he gives up, turns on the music and drives. Lost in her thoughts, Pam doesn't notice when they pull up in front of her apartment. It takes the cab driver a full minute to break through the jungle of her thoughts and bring her back to earth. Normally this would embarrass Pam, but after the night she's had it's not even a blip on the radar.
She pays the cabbie and walks to the door, digging in her purse for her keys. She is still in a fog and it takes her three attempts to get the right key in the right lock before she can open the door and go in.
She heads to the bedroom, relieved that Roy is asleep. She knows that sleeping will be a long time coming for her, but she changes into her favorite pajamas anyway, needing the comfort and warmth their soft fabric provides. Then she heads to the kitchen, makes a cup of tea, and settles in for a long night of sifting through thoughts and emotions, dreams and reality.
It's not until the sun begins to peak over the edge of the horizon and the kitchen is filled with a reddish-orange haze that Pam thinks she should go to bed. She is no closer to untangling the web of complications her life has become but she knows the alarm will be going off in two short hours and she has to work today. She hopes that sleep will help clear her head.
She puts her cup in the sink and heads to the bedroom, taking care not to wake Roy, knowing it makes him grumpy and not wanting to face questions about why her side of the bed is undisturbed.
She gazes down at him, taking in the sight of him sleeping in the early morning light. He looks so...content. The glow from the rising sun shines lightly through the curtains, bathing him in a pool of yellow light. He looks almost angelic as he lies there, blissfully unaware that his fiance has spent the night away from him, trying to sort out her feelings for another man.
As she gazes at him, Pam feels the corners of her mouth turn up into a smile. She thinks that maybe it will be okay, maybe this life, this man, is what she really wants. Maybe happiness can be a receptionist job and a small apartment in Scranton, Pennsylvania.
Pam lets her eyes roam over his face, taking in his smooth, creamy forehead, his rosy cheeks, and his dimples, visible even when his face is completely relaxed. Her smile widens when she gets to his dimples. They have always been her favorite of his features. They were the first thing she noticed when they met. She thinks they may have been part of the reason she fell in love with him all those years ago. Her smile fades and her heart fills with pain as she realizes that, as much as she loves Roy, she's no longer sure if it's the right kind of love. She's no longer sure whether the love she feels is for the Roy sleeping before her or the Roy she met ten years ago, when they were both young and filled with hope and idealistic views about life and love. When things still made sense.
Pam crawls into bed, snuggling close to Roy, wanting to feel the familiar sense of comfort and predictability she has always associated with him. He hogs the blankets, as always, but for once she doesn't try to take back her share. It's warm in the room and she can make do with the corner of the comforter he has left for her. She knows he likes to wrap himself in the blanket as he sleeps, and she let's him. She thinks it's the least she can do.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Brought over from ff.net
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
