"After you," he said, holding the heavy glass door open of the coffee shop open, letting the cold London air hit them. He motioned with his hand for Pam to walk through.

"Thanks," she said with a slight blush, trying to work out if she should lead with the guitar case on the way through the door, or if she should squeeze herself through first. 

"Here, let me," he said, holding his hand out to take the case. Pam looked down at the case and then up a little apprehensively. "I promise I'm not gonna steal it," he chuckled. 

Pam bit her lip and slowly lifted her arm so that he could take the case from her. "Thanks," she said with a small smile.

They started walking towards St Giles in the Fields as Pam took a sip of her drink. "So what is it?" he asked. 

"Uh, chai tea," Pam replied, looking at her cup.

"No," he laughed. "I meant the guitar."

"Oh," she giggled. "It's a C.F. Martin acoustic guitar. From the 50s."

"Oh wow, that's pretty impressive."

"It was the same one that my grandpa played. My sister tracked it down and we've bought it for my dad's birthday."

"Nice present," he said as his eyebrows disappeared somewhere underneath his cap.  

A pair of young girls walked past them and squealed at each other and began whispering. Pam turned around, unsure of what they were so excited about, but shrugged it off and tried to keep stride with her walking companion who seemed to not have noticed the girls. "It's for his 50th," she replied. "So do you play? Sorry, that's stupid, of course you play. You were playing in the store." Pam felt herself flushing slightly. "I mean, how long have you been playing?" 

"Since I was a kid. Wanna walk through the church yard?" he asked with a tilt of his head towards the rusty iron gate. 

"Sure," she smiled. They walked through the church yard in comfortable silence, keeping to the path and watching pigeons pecking at the winter worn grass and brown leaves that were scattered across it. Pam looked over and realised that between carrying his own coffee cup and her guitar case, Pam's new friend didn't have a free hand to pull his mask down so that he could take a sip. She also realised that she wasn't entirely sure of his name. She was fairly sure that in the guitar shop the owner had called him Duncan, but at the coffee shop, he picked up the coffee for ‘Jim'. Maybe he just got confused and picked up the wrong cup, Pam thought as she brought her cup to her lips. But who gets Jim and Duncan confused? They're not even remotely similar! "Want me to take that so you can drink?" she asked, pointing to the guitar case. 

He looked around as they walked to the deserted playground behind the church, and it seemed as though he was about to say yes, but then a youngish guy passed them. "I'll wait til we get there," he said, slightly tense. 

"Get where?" Pam asked, slightly confused. 

"There's a little community garden just down those steps," he said, pointing past the small basketball court where a couple of guys were having a one-on-one game. They walked further on, down the steps and to the right, until they reached the black iron gate with the rainbow sign that read ‘Welcome to the Phoenix Garden: A haven for wildlife and people'. "After you," he said, motioning for Pam to walk into the garden. He led her round the path that curved between the overflowing flower beds and full bushes, until he found a small wooden bench situated under a large tree. "Shall we?" he asked. 

Pam nodded and sat down on the bench, scooching to the side to make sure that there was enough space. He sat down next to her, placing the guitar at their feet and Pam put her purse next to it. He took a look around and slowly pulled his mask off, before taking a sip. "Not many people still wear those round here," she said, pointing to the mask that was now in his hand. "Still worried about Covid?" 

He looked down at the black paper mask in his hand. "Um yeah, something like that." He took another sip and then quickly changed the conversation. "So, uh, you're not from here? I mean, obviously, you've got an American accent," he said, a touch of embarrassment colouring his voice.

"Yeah, I'm from this little town in Pennsylvania. I've only been here for like," she thought for a second, "three weeks. I'm on this semester abroad thing."

"Oh yeah? What are you studying?" 

"I'm doing an MFA in Digital Arts at Pratt in New York, but I'm here for the Spring semester at Central Saint Martins," Pam said a little bashfully

"Very impressive," he smiled.

"So, uh, how about you? You don't really sound English." 

"That's because I'm not." He flashed her a brilliant smile from under his black baseball cap. "I was born in Philly, but we moved over here when I was about 10. So I guess I'm not really English, but not so American anymore either. Kinda makes for a weird accent," he laughed. 

"I like it," Pam said with a blush. 

"Well thanks," he said, a blush of his own matching Pam's. He was about to open his mouth to ask another question, but someone walked past them and he quickly ducked his head, pulling his baseball cap low over his eyes.

Pam was a little confused about why he seemed to be hiding from a total stranger, but decided not to push it. "So," she said slowly. "I, um, I didn't actually introduce myself earlier. I'm Beesly. Shit, I mean I'm Pam. Beesly. Pam Beesly," she said, holding her hand out, incredibly embarrassed that she felt so flustered around this guy that she couldn't even get her own name right. 

"Great to meet you Beesly," he said, shaking her hand.  

Pam felt a spark of electricity jolt between them as their palms touched and his fingers squeezed her hand slightly. They pulled apart and Pam almost forgot how to function as a person. "And, um, you are? I mean, what's your name?" 

He paused for a second and looked at Pam's earnest face. "I'm, um. It's Du-" He cut himself off and paused again, before taking a deep breath. "I'm Jim."

Pam caught his slight slip of Duncan, but he said his name was Jim, so she wasn't going to argue with him. "Nice to meet you too, Jim," she said, extending her hand out again. When they touched again, she felt that same spark fly through her. As they pulled apart, she tucked a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear. "So hanging out in guitar shops and getting coffee in the middle of the day, I'm guessing you're a student too?" 

"Ah, no actually," he smiled, and Pam swore she saw him breathe a slight sigh of relief. "I'm a musician. Well, I guess a singer and a musician. I play the guitar." 

"Oh wow, that's awesome," Pam beamed. "What kind of music?" 

"Um, kinda like Heartland Rock. You know, like Tom Petty? Springsteen? That kinda thing. Well, at least I try anyway," he blushed.

"Oh yeah, it's a little before my time, but I know that sort of stuff from my dad when I was growing up and stuff."

"Yeah that's exactly how I got into those guys. My dad was always playing that sorta stuff when we were growing up, and then I guess even more so when we moved here and he wanted to remember back home." 

"How come you guys moved here?"

"My dad's job. He's an architect and his firm wanted to open an office here, so we moved over. And we've been here for about 17 years now," Jim explained before taking the last sip of his coffee. 

"Think you'll ever go home?" Pam asked. 

"I'm kinda working on it at the moment."

"You said you were born in Philly right?" Pam asked, and Jim nodded. "I'm from Scranton." 

"No way," he smiled. "My grandma lived there, my dad's from there. He moved to Philly for college and met my mom and they settled down there." 

"So you want to go back to Philly huh?" she asked. 

"I was so young when I left, I don't really remember much to be honest. But I meant," he said as he happened to glance down at his watch. "Oh shit, I'm really late. I'm really sorry, I've got a meeting I've gotta go to." He stood up and looked down at Pam's fallen face.

"Oh, um, no worries," Pam replied, a little flustered and sad that their time together was coming to an end.  

"Um, are you free for dinner tonight? We can carry on chatting about home and stuff." 

"Yes," Pam replied without hesitating. 

"Alright, then it's a date," he smiled. 

-- 

Pam shifted uncomfortably on the faded yellow leatherette bench in the booth of Trattoria Mondello where Jim had said he'd meet her at 8pm. She tapped the screen of her phone where it lay on the table next to the blue paper placemat and looked at the time again for what felt like the three hundredth time in the last 10 minutes. She sighed and looked around at the busy restaurant, looking longingly at the laughing and loud patrons drinking Italian wines and sharing food. Her eyes skimmed over the beamed ceiling, the textured white walls and the authentic Italian paintings and ornaments that adorned them, before staring at the glass door waiting for it to open. Wondering if it would ever open and if the person walking through it would be looking for her.  

After alternating between looking at her phone and around at the bustling restaurant a further eight times, the door finally opened and Pam held her breath as she craned her neck out of the booth to see who it was. 

"Duncan!" a thick Scilician accent boomed from a small stout man wearing a black waistcoat. Pam watched him embrace the taller man with a hearty slap on the back before he gripped both his forearms, and then led him over to where she was sitting. "La bella signora," the shorter man announced as they reached Pam's booth.

"Hey," Jim breathed as he slid into the bench opposite Pam and pulled his black disposable mask off. "I'm so sorry I'm late, there was this whole... thing," he said, waving his hand in a circle, before shrugging off his jacket.

"No problem," Pam smiled, aware that her cheeks were flushing slightly pink.

"Have you been waiting long?" 

"Oh, no, like a few minutes." 

Jim glanced down at his watch. "Oh shit, I'm twenty minutes late. I really am sorry." 

"Don't even worry about it," Pam tried to wave him off. "This place is really cute. Very," she paused, looking around the small, bustling restaurant for the right word, "Italian."

"Yeah, I love it here. The bruschetta is amazing, and the Veal Milanese is like the best one I've ever had. Oh and the pizzas are awesome too. Sorry, I just really love Italian food." Pam smiled at him and picked up the green and white menu and started looking at the plastic covered pages. "Did you make it back to your place ok with the guitar?" 

"Oh yeah," she smiled. "Almost got it stuck in the doors of the bus, but it was all ok. How did your meeting go?" 

"Was really good. Was with a record company."

"Oh my god, that's amazing!" Pam exclaimed. "Like a real record company?" 

"Yeah," Jim chuckled.

"That's like so exciting!" she squealed, almost jumping out of her seat. "We've got to get something to toast with!" Pam immediately flapped her hands around and a waiter came over.

"Se signora, what can I get for you?" the tall man wearing a white apron around his waist asked. 

"Can we get a bottle of your best champagne please?" Pam blurted out, before realising that she was a student and Jim was a penniless musician. Fuck it, she thought. I'll just eat pasta for the rest of the week to make up for it.

"Absolutely," he said with a slight bow, before turning and leaving. He returned with a bottle of Moet et Chandon, and carefully poured it into two champagne flutes, before putting the bottle into an ice bucket.  

Pam held her glass up towards Jim. "To you and your record deal. Don't forget me when you're famous," she smiled. 

Jim grinned and clinked his glass against Pam's, before they both took a sip. "So tell me about the rest of your day," he said, leaning closer in as he put his glass down on the table. 

"Well, after I wrestled the guitar home, I just worked on one of my assignments and then came here," Pam replied breezily, not wanting to tell the truth of how she'd actually run home to try on every single item of clothing that she owned before jumping in the shower and then trying to style her hair thirty different ways before finding the right one. She flashed Jim a smile before picking up her menu. "So, what do you recommend?" she asked, peeking over the top of it.

"Definitely the bruschetta. And the calamari. Want to share?"

"Absolutely I do." She looked back at the menu, glancing from side to side, before closing it and putting it back down on the table. "I think I'm going to get a Napoletana." 

"Gross. Black olives are disgusting. And anchovies? Yugh," Jim said, pulling a face. 

"Shut up," Pam giggled. "What are you getting?" 

"Well, I respect my taste buds, so I'm actually going to get something tasty. Like the Veal Milanese," Jim said, with a joking snobbery to his voice.

"Ok, let me ask you this. Have you ever come here and not had the Veal Milanese?" Pam asked with her eyebrow raised.

"Um, yeah," Jim said slowly. "Of course I've had other food here. I told you, the pizza is great here." 

"In the last ten times you've come here?"

"Ok, I think it's time for us to order," he said, turning around to wave at a waiter. 

They placed their orders, before falling into easy conversation about anything and everything. Pam learned that Jim had two older brothers (whom he hated) and a younger sister (that he adored), he was allergic to red wine and that he was absolutely hopeless at any type of video game. In return, Pam told him about her love for musical theatre, how she didn't learn to ride a bike properly until she was 15 and how much she hated her student accommodation. As Jim was delving into one particularly funny story about a prank that had gone wrong on one of his brothers as their waited for their food, Pam noticed a few people around the restaurant staring at her. Or Jim. Or them. She wasn't quite sure at who, but it was definitely at their table. As they whispered to each other, Pam did her best to pull her focus back to Jim and to his story about lawn darts. She smiled at his animated movements, and put the other patrons out of her mind.

At least until they were midway through their main courses, when Pam's wondering eye fell upon a different table. This time, the people were nudging each other and whispering. And at that point, Pam felt she should say something. "I might be going crazy, but I think people are looking at us," she said, picking at the crust of her pizza.

Jim finished the mouthful of veal that he'd been chewing and swallowed. Without even glancing round at who Pam had thought was staring at them, he put down his fork and looked directly at Pam. "It's because they're staring at the most beautiful girl in this restaurant," he said completely seriously, but with a slight glint in his eye. 

Pam burst into laughter. "Oh my god, that was so cheesy," she giggled.

Jim let out a small laugh through his nose and hung his head, shaking it slightly. "I was trying to pay you a compliment!" he exclaimed. "But yeah, I guess it was kinda cheesy." 

"I like cheesy," she smiled at Jim. "But they are staring. Do I have food on my face or something?" 

"I mean, you do have some pizza sauce right here," he said, pointing to his cheek. 

"I do not!" she exclaimed as she frantically wiped at her face. 

"Nah, you don't," Jim laughed. "But that was funny." 

"I hate you," Pam tried to say with a straight face, before taking a bite of her pizza. 

"Sure you do," Jim smirked. 

Their banter carried on through the rest of their mains and into a shared dessert of tiramisu. Jokes and revelations of shared interests flowed easily between Jim and Pam, until suddenly her phone rang. "Oh," she said with a furrowed forehead. 

"What is it?" Jim asked, putting down his spoon.

"It's my mom. She never calls me. Something must be wrong. Do you mind if I get this?" 

"Of course not. I'll grab the bill and meet you outside?"

Pam nodded and smiled slightly. "Mom?" she said into the phone as she stood and made her way out of the restaurant. "Is everything ok?" She listened intently to her mother talking on the other end of the line, completely engrossed to the point that she didn't notice Jim wave meekly at the people who had been staring at him, or how he bent down awkwardly to take a selfie with another person who came rushing over to him. But as the door to the restaurant opened, drawing Pam's attention to Jim leaving it, she snapped her head up and waved to Jim. 

He waved back, and just as he was about to leave, one of the waiters came rushing out. "Duncan, your lady friend left her scarf," he shouted, holding up a red scarf. Jim took it with a smile and walked over to Pam. 

"Yeah I think I am," she said into the phone. She smiled at Jim as he stood in front of her holding her scarf. "I have to go. I will. Bye Mom." She hit the call end button and slipped her phone into her pocket. "Sorry about that." 

"Everything ok?" Jim asked as Pam took the scarf from him. 

"Thanks," she smiled, as she wrapped the scarf around her neck. "Yeah, my Meemaw had a fall but she's ok." 

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said earnestly as he looked down at Pam from underneath his cap. 

She smiled up at him and felt the air around them shift. She tried to swallow, but her whole mouth had gone dry. Jim was staring at her intently, as if he wanted to say something. But he didn't. Pam kept looking at him, urging him, willing him to say whatever it was that he was holding back. After 27 seconds, she finally couldn't take any more. "I'm cold," she said, tightening her scarf. "Want to walk me to my bus stop?" 

"Sure," Jim said, with a slightly sad smile. 

They walked along Goodge Street in silence for a minute or so, when suddenly, the back of their hands brushed. Pam felt the same spark that she had earlier that day, and again, when Jim's hand moved, she felt a sadness run through her. As they turned the corner onto Tottenham Court Road, their hands bumped again, but this time, feeling brave, Pam slipped her hand into Jim's. She looked up at him and watched him bite back his smile as he looked down at the ground. They carried on walking, Jim rubbing his thumb back and forth over Pam's knuckles, until Pam saw her bus stop and sighed. "That's me," she said pointing to the small shelter. 

Jim nodded solemnly, but as soon as they passed Costa Coffee, he looked left into the empty space of Whitfield Gardens, and without hesitating, pulled Pam into the dark. He spun her around, and before she could say a word, bent down to kiss her softly. His hands wrapped around her waist in her puffy jacket, and hers travelled up his chest to the back of his neck, gently playing with the hair that had escaped his baseball cap. "I've wanted to do that since I first saw you," he whispered as they finally pulled apart, both staring into each other's eyes. 

"Me too," she smiled back, illuminated by the lamppost light just above them. He grinned and bent down to kiss her, but she put her hand on his chest to stop him. "Jim," she said softly. He gave her a confused, and slightly worried, look. "Can you take your cap off?" He laughed, and removed his hat, before pulling Pam closer to him and kissing her with everything he had. 

They stayed lost in their kiss until they heard a man peeing against the tree they were standing next to. "I think that's our cue to leave," Jim chuckled as he put his cap back on. "Come on," he said with a nod of his head. 

They walked up to the bus stop and saw that Pam's bus was due in three minutes. "So you really wanted to kiss me since we were in that shop huh?" Pam teased. 

"Absolutely I did," he grinned back, leaning down to give her a quick peck on the cheek.

"Oh hey. Um, why do people keep calling you Duncan? There was that guy in the shop and those waiters tonight," she asked with a slight confused tone.

"Um, it's because," he glanced around and pulled his black cap down slightly further, "uh, it's my stage name." 

"Your stage name?" Pam asked with a slight surprised cough. 

"Um, yeah," Jim replied a little sheepishly.  

Pam was just about to ask why on earth he needed a stage name, but the number 73 pulled up. Instead she reached up to give him a quick kiss and thanked him for the meal. "I had a great time tonight," she smiled as she stepped onto the bus.

"Me too," he beamed, reaching up for one last kiss, much to the annoyance of the person in the queue behind them. "I'll text you tomorrow."

Two minutes later, Pam was sitting, staring out of the window on the top deck of the bus, when suddenly her phone buzzed. She reached into her pocket and saw that there was a message from Jim. She couldn't hide the wide smile on her face as she read his text.

I couldn't wait.