She sat staring blankly at Michael’s office door, hearing only muffled words, Jan’s voice occasionally growing louder as she clearly tried to talk over Michael.  Jan had actually gone to the trouble of scheduling a meeting with him, which struck Pam as odd – usually, she just showed up – and they’d been in there with the door closed, blinds drawn, for almost an hour.  Jan had even insisted that the cameraman remove all the mikes in Michael’s office, giving him a look that immediately silenced him when Michael tried to protest.  

She wondered dully what was going on, what the big secret was.  Maybe they were being downsized after all…..  Strangely, the thought didn’t even upset her or jar her or anything; in fact, the notion of finally being forced to leave this place brought a strange sense of relief.  She hadn’t been able to bring herself to leave of her own volition, but walking into this office every morning for the past three and a half months had been sheer hell, because there were reminders everywhere; his presence was all over that office, which only made the fact that he was really gone seem that much harder to take.  

At first, it had honestly felt like someone had died; she’d been absolutely grief stricken, numb and introspective but prone to tears at the most unexpected moments. Like when Dwight had cleaned out the refrigerator: Pam had been unfortunate enough to wander in while he was in the midst of it, muttering angrily to himself as he threw one thing after another in the garbage.  He’d found a Tupperware container, opening it to sniff at it suspiciously, then had demanded, “Pam, is this your grilled cheese sandwich?” The question, of course, brought to mind that night on the roof, when Jim had made grilled cheese sandwiches for her, presenting them to her proudly…back when she’d had the luxury of seeing his face every day, back before she’d been reduced to wishing desperately that she could hear his laugh just one more time.  

She’d taken one look at that grilled cheese sandwich and burst into tears, while Dwight had stood staring at her, baffled.   

And then there were the more…expected moments when the tears had come.  She’d been in the break room late one afternoon about seven weeks after he’d gone. Michael and Dwight were in a meeting with accounting, while Meredith was out sick.  Stanley had taken his daughter to the dentist, and Toby was at corporate for the day.  Ryan was sitting at his desk, ear buds in as he listened to something on his ipod. So she’d snuck away from her desk and gone to sit in the break room just to get a reprieve from staring at that fucking empty chair that seemed to taunt her.   

Phyllis had come in and had been startled to see her sitting there.  She hadn’t said anything at first, then had poured herself a cup of coffee before she came to sit at the table next to Pam.  Pam glanced up at her, gave her a wan smile.  Then Phyllis had asked gently, innocently, “Do you miss Jim a lot?” 

Pam wasn’t sure whether it was the tone in Phyllis’s voice – so cautious, so kind – or whether it was the question itself, so unexpected and direct, but before she could stop herself, she’d nodded, her face crumpling as she started to cry.   

“Oh dear…I’m sorry, Pam; I didn’t mean to…” Phyllis looked as if she felt terribly guilty, but Pam had shaken her head, unable to talk for a second. 

Then she choked out, “No, it’s okay; it’s not your fault, really….”   

She’d excused herself then, going into the bathroom where she locked herself in a stall and cried, arms wrapped around herself, rocking back and forth.   

Three and a half months it had been since the last time she’d seen him, his last day at work truly horrible, nightmarish in her memory.  It had only been a week after Casino Night, and she still hadn’t had time to even absorb the shock of the news that he was transferring – for that matter, she still hadn’t been able to truly grasp the reality of the fact that he’d admitted he was in love with her, that he’d kissed her, that she’d kissed him back…then rejected him again.      

She could still hear his voice so clearly in her head, the way he’d spoken barely above a whisper but with such conviction, almost wincing as he said, “I’m in love with you.”   

He had sounded almost as if the words themselves burned him in their intensity. 

It didn’t seem fair that she still wasn’t able to forget the look on his face when she’d been so cruel, when she’d lied to him and said, “I’m really sorry…if you misinterpreted things.  It’s probably my fault.” 

Worst of all, she knew she’d never forget the sight of him standing in front of her with tears welling in his eyes – Jim, the prankster who was usually so full of mischief, standing there looking shattered, devastated – the helplessness she’d felt when she’d seen that lone tear stream down his cheek. 

And that panic that had gripped her as he’d walked away. It had been like she was ensnared in one of those awful dreams: She’d wanted so badly to call out after him, to turn and chase him, grab him by the hand, take it all back, but she’d felt frozen, rooted to the spot, unable to move, think, breathe. And when he’d kissed her – god, she’d known as soon as his lips touched hers that nothing would ever be the same again, no matter what, and the realization was nothing short of terrifying. 

She knew when she allowed herself to let go, her hands stealing up into his hair as she kissed him back, that her actions were betraying the fact that yes, she’d looked him right in the eye out in that parking lot and lied.  She remembered so well her train of thought when his lips touched hers: Shock, utter shock, then a trembling weakness that spread throughout her limbs, originating from somewhere deep, low in her belly; more shock at the realization that these were Jim’s lips on hers – not Roy’s – and that she found herself wanting him with a sudden desire that frightened her in its intensity.  

Then she’d thought: Just once…just to kiss him once.  We’ve already crossed so many lines tonight; why not one more?  Just once…. 

So she’d allowed herself to let go, her hands moving into his hair (it was just as soft as she’d always imagined it would be – deep, deep in that unconscious part of herself that she refused to acknowledge), lips meeting his the next time he kissed her.  She’d felt the tremor in him when she responded, and she realized instantly that she had made a mistake, that she never should have kissed him back. Because she wasn’t strong enough to take the leap, to face what she was feeling for him – not just yet.  Because it was too terrifying, the way that he had looked at her afterward, his chest rising and falling as he looked stunned, dazed…. 

Because he represented the unknown, and Roy represented stability, predictability…safety.   

But the biggest reason kissing him back had been such a grave mistake was that in doing so, she’d hurt him again – hurt him worse than she had the first time out in the parking lot.   

They’d stared at one another silently for a few long minutes, both breathing heavily, and then she’d whispered, “I’m sorry, Jim.” 

He couldn’t speak for a moment, then swallowed hard and asked in a hoarse voice, “Why?” 

She blinked several times, hoping the tears wouldn’t fall, then shaking her head when they finally did, pulling back when Jim reached a hand out to touch her cheek.  Oh, the look on his face when she’d done that, when she’d shrunk away from his touch even though it was the last thing she wanted to do…. 

She’d finally forced herself to whisper, “I can’t” one last time before she turned and ran out of the office, ran all the way down the stairs, scared to take the elevator because she was afraid he’d come after her – and she wasn’t sure that she could tell him no again.  Because she didn’t want to tell him no, knew on some instinctive level even as she ran from him that she was in love with him, that this was well beyond her control.  

If he had tried to chase after her, she wasn’t aware of it.  

She’d slept on the couch that night; Roy was already asleep when she got home, and as she gazed down at him, his curly hair a little damp, dimples relaxed in sleep, she felt a wave of guilt sweep over her.  He was a good man, a decent man, and he didn’t deserve this.  

She wanted to call in sick to work the next day, but she didn’t – only because she knew she’d have to face Jim sometime.  She rehearsed what she’d say to him in her head on the way to work, her plan centering on telling him that, in the interest of their friendship – which was the most important thing in the world to her, to them both she knew – they had to just forget that the night before had ever happened: the confession, the kiss, all of it.  Just forget it and go back to the way things had been before.  She’d known even as she planned it how cowardly it was of her, how cruel to ask him to do such a thing, but she still felt immobilized by that irrational fear. 

 And she also knew that Jim would do anything for her. 

He was already there when she got to work, standing in the kitchen pouring a cup of coffee, dark circles under his eyes, hair even more tousled than usual.  She glanced around the office – only Toby, Ryan, and Stanley were there that early – so she deemed it safe enough to go to the kitchen, saying his name softly as the door closed behind her. 

He looked startled, then she could see the anxiety settle over his features, intermingled with a deep, profound sadness and disillusionment. She was reminded suddenly of what it had felt like to have his lips on hers, his arms around her, and she pretended that the memory – the knowledge – didn’t leave her feeling weak, sort of breathless with the realization that his relatively chaste kisses had left her aching with a desire she’d never even come close to feeling before. 

“Listen, Jim…” She prayed she could get through what she was about to say, told herself that she would just have to get through it – it was either that or lose their friendship, and the very thought made her feel sick inside. On some guttural, purely instinctive level, she knew that she’d never again be able to fool herself into believing that she was “just friends” with him.  The feel of his chest, surprisingly sturdy beneath her hands as she gently pushed him away from her, drove her to distraction even as she looked at him and said the things she believed she ought to say but really didn’t mean. 

“About last night….” She took a deep breath, then raised her eyes to his. 

He was watching her closely, looking almost like he might cry, but at the same time, there was the faintest glimmer of hope in his eyes, as if he thought she might tell him that she’d changed her mind. 

“Look, all we can do ---“  That wasn’t the way she’d intended to start, so she tried again.  “I just….  Let’s just forget about last night – all of it.  I’m just going to forget what you told me, forget what happened after…. I mean, we have to.” 

He looked stunned again, as if she’d slapped his face, and for some reason, she’d been caught off guard.  Did he really believe that they could possibly do it any other way if they were going to maintain the friendship? He was silent for a few minutes, and even as she watched his expression, she saw that the shock and the sadness seemed to be fading into bitterness…and anger?

She doubted it, because she’d never really seen Jim lose his temper before.  But then he spoke, his voice cold, flat, bitter…horrible. “Doesn’t matter.” He said, then, his eyes on the floor, “I’m transferring to the Stamford branch next week.” 

Now it was her turn to be stunned, her throat constricting, stomach falling.  “What?” She’d asked, unable to say anything else. 

His eyes had met hers but only for a moment; he’d quickly looked away, as if he couldn’t handle looking at her face, seeing the stricken expression she wore.   

Then he murmured, “It doesn’t matter anymore; I’m leaving.”  He’d walked out of the break room then, leaving her standing there feeling shattered.  

She wanted to follow him, to ask him why, to beg him not to go…but she couldn’t.  She knew she was going to cry, but she was too afraid to even try to go into the women’s restroom, for fear someone might be in there; instead, despite the fact that she’d have to pass by his desk, she stormed out of the kitchen, out the doors to their suite, sobbing as she ran into the stairwell and leaned against the wall, breaths coming in deep, hiccoughing gulps.   

He hadn’t even looked up when she’d run past his desk, didn’t look up when she came back in and sat woodenly at her desk, her hands still shaking, the occasional sob making her breath catch.  She couldn’t keep from staring at him helplessly for the rest of the day, even though she tried not to. He never looked at her again, in fact – at least, not when she was looking at him.  She was sure she felt his eyes on her when she was looking away, but whenever she dared to look up at him, his eyes always lowered.   

The utter silence between them that last week had been deafening, leaving her feeling panicked, helpless. 

She didn’t fully believe he was going to go until his last day, when Michael had insisted on throwing a party for him even though Jim had all but begged him not to.  The last thing she wanted to do was participate in it, but she was afraid to draw too much attention to herself, so she just sat quietly at her desk, forcing an occasional smile, feeling the panic mounting within her as the reality slowly, slowly sunk in that this was it; he was really leaving.  The thought that she might never see him again made her throat feel like it was closing completely; she couldn’t even breathe when she contemplated that this could really be the last time she’d see him. 

She’d deliberately hung around at the end of the day, waiting for everyone else to leave, watching as Jim packed up his things.  He looked drained, weary, his shoulders drooping as he mechanically put one thing after another into the box in his chair.   When she saw him lift the medal she’d made when they’d done the Office Olympics, pulling it off of his lamp, her breath caught; he held it for a second, as if debating what to do with it, then, his jaw tensing, head down, he’d dropped it into his trashcan. 

At that, she’d leapt to her feet, moving from behind her desk to stand next to his, shaking all over as she asked, tears in her eyes, “Why are you doing this to me?” 

His eyes flicked around the room, scanning to be sure no one else was in the office.  Toby hadn’t left yet, but he was in Michael’s office, the door closed.  His jaw tensed again, and she could tell that he was apparently trying to steady himself before he answered her. 

He didn’t look at her – maybe couldn’t look at her -- as he said, his voice choked, gravelly, “Pam, I’m not…doing this to hurt you.” 

“Then why are you doing it?” She asked, trying desperately not to cry, willing those tears in her eyes not to fall. 

At her question, his head dropped; he slowly shook it back and forth a few times. Then he raised his eyes to meet hers squarely for the first time since that awful exchange in the kitchen five days earlier, and when she saw that tears were welled in his eyes, shimmering heavily on his lower lashes, just on the verge of falling, she wanted to fall to her knees on the floor, to beg him to just stop.   

His voice shook a little as he whispered, “Pam, just…please.  Tell me you want me, and I’ll stay.” 

Her hand covered her mouth as the tears started to trickle down her cheeks; though she tried desperately to quell it, she choked on a sob, gasping loudly, then whispered back, “I can’t, Jim – I just…can’t.” 

His eyes closed, and she watched, feeling her stomach quake and seem to cave in on itself as a tear ran down his face, another quickly following it.  He wiped them away impatiently with his hand, his head lowered. 

Then he raised his eyes, still awash with tears, holding her gaze one last time as he whispered, “I can’t stay and pretend like there’s nothing here; I can’t do that anymore.” 

And then he’d seized up his box, his bag, and his keys, striding quickly toward the door, not looking back.  

Three and a half months…. 

Three and a half months had felt like a lifetime, maybe because her life had changed more in the last three and a half months than it had in the past ten years.  She’d postponed the wedding the same night that Jim had left for good, not giving Roy any one reason in particular – blaming it on stress, the fact that there was so much left to be done, and she didn’t want to ruin it by just throwing everything together too quickly.  She’d felt strangely guilty when he’d been so agreeable, not even really questioning her.  

Postponing the wedding actually worked out well in another way, because she had attributed the fact that she couldn’t stop crying all that night on the disappointment of having to put it off again. 

Roy had been a little baffled at first by how utterly undone she was, had even touched her cheek with his hand, asking, “Babe, seriously….are you okay?” 

She’d cried harder, thinking about how Jim had tried to touch her face that night after he’d kissed her and she’d cried, remembering how she’d pulled back.  She couldn’t get the stricken expression on his face out of her head.  

“I’m okay.” She’d said, even though the tears were still coming.  She took in a deep, quivering breath, then, “I just feel so tired….” 

She hadn’t been able to finish, raising a trembling hand to her forehead as her voice broke again.  Roy was watching her with a bewildered expression on his face, because in all the years they’d been together, he’d never seen her that way.  

When he asked if there was anything he could do, she had choked on a sob, then whispered, “No, really…. I think I just need to get some sleep.” 

He had nodded, kissing her forehead before she turned and trudged down the hall to their room.  When he came to bed a few hours later, she pretended to be asleep, turned on her side, the tears running from her eyes across her nose, dripping down onto the pillow.  

She just couldn’t believe he was really gone.  

She’d lived in that perpetual hell for about two weeks – emotional, volatile, alternating between sudden anger and absolute exhaustion.  She’d managed not to cry again in front of Roy, instead locking herself in the bathroom whenever she felt the tears threatening, her forehead pressed against the wall, eyes closed as she wondered if this raw agony would ever end.  Roy asked her more than once what was going on, but he’d accepted it when she blamed it on hormones, stress, exhaustion, nodding without questioning her further.  He didn’t even question her when she found excuses not to have sex with him the few times he tried to initiate it. 

She became quite adept at avoiding kissing him, too, which also slipped by him unnoticed.  She didn’t want his lips to touch hers, not yet anyway; for some reason she couldn’t have explained, it was important to her that Jim’s kiss be the last one she’d felt.  She just needed to cling to that for a little while, because it made her feel closer to him somehow, made this whole nightmare seem less real. 

Two weeks after Jim left, Roy had gone early on a Saturday morning to his brother’s house, but had come home unexpectedly, having forgotten his wallet, only to find her sitting on the couch sobbing.   She hadn’t even had time to pull herself together – the front door had opened, he’d called out, “Hey babe, I forgot my wallet ---“ and then had spotted her sitting there, head in her hands, cheeks wet. 

She’d jerked her head up when the door opened, when she heard his voice, but it was too late.  Fear seized her as she waited for him to be angry, suspicious.  She braced herself, desperately hoping that he wouldn’t say Jim’s name, because she didn’t think she could bear that. 

But he wasn’t angry, wasn’t suspicious, just looked deeply concerned, anxiety settling over his features as he suddenly realized that something was very, very wrong, and had been for a while. “Hey….”

He dropped his keys on the little table next to the front door and came to sit next to her on the sofa, reaching one arm out to rub her shoulders gently as he asked, “Babe, what’s wrong?” 

His kindness sent a shaft of guilt right through her, so she could only sit there and cry harder, no idea how in the hell she was going to explain this. 

So she shook her head and whispered, “Nothing.” 

“Nothing?” He repeated, then tilted her chin so that he could look at her face, those blue eyes softening, his dimples deepening when he gave her a small smile, then said, “Come on, babe, obviously it’s not ‘nothing.’ Talk to me; tell me what’s been going on with you; I mean, you’ve been acting a little strange for weeks….” 

She shook her head again, unable to say anything.  Then he asked, “Is it me?  Did I do something?” 

He was starting to look perplexed now, worry creeping into his expression.   She looked up at him then, tilting her head to the side and putting one hand on his cheek.  Dear god, she thought, he’s sitting here asking if it’s his fault…. I kissed another man; I’m in love with another man, and he’s here willing to accept the blame for whatever is wrong here.  He doesn’t deserve this.  

So she’d started talking, slowly at first, then the words rushing out faster and faster, as if speaking the truth – no, facing the truth – for the first time gave her momentum.  She was careful in how she worded it; she made sure to couch the explanation in language that emphasized the fact that they’d gotten together when they were so young, that she’d accepted his marriage proposal without really even knowing what she wanted out of life or who she even was…that she was beginning to realize now that the two of them just weren’t right for each other.   

She wisely left Jim out of it, because really, she knew she’d be having this conversation with Roy regardless of whether or not Jim had told her he loved her. And she knew instinctively that she’d blown whatever chance she might have had with Jim; she’d driven him away – he’d moved to a different state just to escape her.  He was through trying, and she knew that.  

Roy had been shocked at first, initially not believing her, but when it slowly started to sink in, he stood up abruptly, turning in a half circle, then reeling backward, one of his hands against the wall to steady himself as he realized that she was serious, that she meant it, that it was really over.  In the nine and a half years that they’d been together, she’d never tried to break up with him, ever, and he knew instinctively that she was serious.  

He’d tried for a few minutes to talk her out of it, to convince her that she was just tired or maybe had cold feet.   When she was resolute, he grew desperate, sitting down heavily on the couch beside her and covering his face with his hands; she was stunned when he started to cry, the sobs wracking him. She’d instinctively put her arms around him, guiding his head to her breast as she stroked his curly hair, tears falling down her own face as she sat there miserably wondering if that heavy ache would ever leave her, if there could possibly be anything worse than seeing the two men she cared about most in the world shattered this way, all in the span of two weeks that had felt like an eternity. 

For a brief moment, she contemplated taking it all back, considered telling him that she didn’t mean it, that she’d marry him and find a way to make herself really love him….just to end his tears because it tore at her to see him so broken; he wasn’t as sensitive as Jim, and she’d only seen him cry twice in all the time that they’d been together – and never over her. 

Over the next few days, Roy’s shock had morphed into anger, confusion…then, after about a week, a kind of weary acceptance.  She understood what he was going through, even though she couldn’t tell him so; looking at him was like looking in the mirror, because he looked like someone had just sapped the spirit out of him, had blindsided him. 

She knew the feeling. 

She’d moved out a week and a half later, everything happening so quickly, but it had to; she understood that.  She’d moved her things while he was at work, knowing it would be better that way.   

She didn’t want him to have to watch as she slowly dismantled their life; it was hard enough bearing witness to it herself.

_____________________________________________________________

She hadn’t actually seen Roy in close to five weeks, even though he was still working down in the warehouse.  He’d taken some time off when she’d called off the wedding, and at some point, she knew he’d come back, but their paths had miraculously never crossed.  ---Not so miraculously, actually, given that she never had occasion to go down to the warehouse, and it had been a while (thankfully) since Michael had had one of his stupid mandatory employee morale boosters.  And she was very careful to always get to work early and leave a little late, just so she didn’t have to risk running into him in the parking lot.           

 The few times that she had seen him since they’d broken up, he always made a point of telling her he still he loved her, but he hadn’t pushed the issue.  And truly, he looked more tired than devastated, and maybe still a little shocked, too, like he still couldn’t believe it was over for good.             

 Of course, she realized she was comparing his state to the way Jim had looked the last time she’d seen him, and somehow, remembering Jim’s face, the tears….well, he set the bar for forcing her to witness what a truly shattered man looked like.                        

She wondered what Jim looked like these days.  Had his smile come back, reaching all the way to his eyes, or did he still carry with him that wistful, haunted expression he’d worn the last several months that they’d worked together?  Did he feel as utterly devastated as she did?  Was he able to get through a single day without shedding tears at some point, whether feeling them just burn but never fall because of some stupid, simple reminder or giving in to them altogether, sobbing until sleep mercifully came…?

Another part of her – the deeper, more instinctive part – suspected that he was probably living in a hell much like her own, only without the bitterness and regret.  Because he’d been brave enough, at least, to be honest and to face his feelings, no matter how difficult.

Over the course of those long months, she’d started several emails to him – twenty-seven, in fact, all of them saved in the drafts folder on her computer at home.  She hadn’t dared to even try to write one until a few weeks after she had broken things off with Roy for good, and maybe that was the problem.  She couldn’t quite figure out what to say or how to say it, and she found that her emails tended to run along one of three themes. 

The first was what she’d come to inanely label in her mind as the musical chairs variety, wherein she tried to tell Jim tactfully that it was over between she and Roy, but she couldn’t keep from thinking that it seemed disrespectful of the near ten years she’d spent with Roy (not to mention presumptuous) to consider just sending an email to another man announcing their breakup, almost as if it were an invitation for Jim to try to stake his claim on her now.  Or at least, that’s the way that type of email had come off sounding to her in her head, and it was not at all what she was trying to convey.  

The other type of email was more in the forgive-me-for-being-an-idiot vein.  In those emails, she tried unsuccessfully to explain to Jim what had been going through her head that night when he’d confessed.  How she’d felt a flash of anger wash over her, hot and irrational, when he’d told her he was in love with her, but only because she was so terrified.  Why was he doing this?  Why now?  Why couldn’t he have just let things go on the way they had been?  In a single impulsive moment, he had shattered the delicate balance that they’d perfected months and months ago, the mutual silence that they’d maintained, in a tacit agreement – better to leave it unsaid in order to preserve their friendship, such as it was.  So what right did he have to risk everything now?   

And that was why she’d so cruelly asked, “What do you expect me to say to that?” And when he hadn’t backed down, she tried to explain, she’d been pleading with him silently: Don’t do this; don’t risk this…what if we can’t go back? I’ll do anything to keep this friendship – this relationship, whatever it is.  Surely the hell of trying to ignore those loaded silences and heartbreaking stares is better than what would inevitably be an unbearable nightmare if we had to say goodbye completely. And if we continue this conversation, we’ll have to say goodbye; how could we possibly go back? 

Of course, she never would have believed that night that he would actually say goodbye, that he’d leave her alone, stuck in the worst kind of purgatory without him, every day the same as the one before it: gray, never-ending.

Then she’d get stuck, faced with the task of rationalizing why she’d kissed him back, why she’d then told him she still couldn’t…why she’d so heartlessly asked him to forget all of it.   And there was no rationalizing asking him to do such a thing, because even though at the time she’d only partially grasped the enormity of it, now she fully understood.  He was in love with her; he’d been waiting months, years, to finally confess to her, having watched her closely and ascertained – correctly – that she felt it, too, that she needed to hear him say it before she made the biggest mistake of her life in marrying someone else.   

She had, in being so cryptic -- “I can’t” with the inflection of a question, not a statement; “I can’t,” not “I don’t”; in kissing him back with the passion borne of all those months, years of trying to ignore the fact that yes, she was in love with him, too, and god yes, she wanted him --- in the span of one minute given him hope, more hope than he’d probably ever dared to allow himself to harbor, for fear of being crushed.   

And then, all in that same minute, she’d shattered that hope, devastated him.  

The third type of email was the one that she found herself typing only when it was very, very late at night and she’d had a glass or two of wine; it ran along the same theme every time – was always short, to the point…aching in its honesty: I’m so sorry Jim; all I want is for you to come back, please.  Please come back to me. I need you so much closer. 

It was fear that kept her from sending that type – that kept her from sending any of them, really.  So three and a half months had passed, and she had no idea how he was doing, if he knew that she’d cancelled her wedding…if he even cared.  She was sure that someone – Phyllis or Ryan, maybe – had probably emailed him and told him what had happened, and she assumed that he would have contacted her if he wanted to try again, to start over. 

She felt absolutely paralyzed by the certainty that she had no right to contact him now, when he was probably well on his way to getting over her. And she loved him enough to maintain that distance out of respect for the life that he might now be living; she loved him enough that she’d leave him alone if that meant he could finally be happy after so many years of suffering at her hands. 

Of course, the irony wasn’t lost on her. 

Her thoughts were interrupted when Michael’s door suddenly opened and Jan strode out, Michael on her heels, his face flushed; he was clearly agitated. 

“Could I have everyone’s attention?” Jan’s crisp voice rang out, and immediately all heads in the office turned her way – except for Creed’s.  He merely glanced up at her over the half moon of his glasses, then went right back to the book he was reading: Brief Interviews With Hideous Men.  He even chuckled to himself a few times while Jan was speaking. 

“I have an announcement to make, one that is actually very good news for your branch—“  Michael snorted, and she turned to shoot him a withering glare, prompting him to close his mouth, widen his eyes, and look up at the ceiling.  She continued.  “But it is good news that will necessitate some slight changes in this office.” She paused, then, “The good news is that this branch will not be downsized.” 

A sense of relief seemed to pervade the atmosphere – Dwight pumped his fist, exclaimed, “Yes!” Stanley let out a sigh of relief, exchanging a smile with Phyllis; Kevin was nodding slowly, a smile on his face, slapping a high five with Oscar.  Angela looked self-satisfied, as if she were solely responsible for saving the branch.  Meredith didn’t react for a few seconds, then finally a slow smile broke out across her face as she sipped from the cup in her hand.  Kelly was staring at Ryan hopefully, while he sat looking mortified, as usual.  Toby merely shook his head and went back to his cubicle.  Creed seemed wholly unaware of the announcement as he continued to read his book, eyebrows raised, a small smile on his face. Pam herself felt oddly…nothing. But that didn’t last long. 

Jan continued: “Instead, based on the numbers, corporate has decided to downsize the Stamford branch, which means that two of its employees will be transferring here  -- one of them you already know, Jim Halpert.” 

Just the sound of his name was enough to bring a flush to Pam’s cheeks.  She didn’t even hear the name of the other person or that individual’s job description, just sat there feeling stunned, aching at first because it still hurt so damned much to think of him…but then the realization hit her in full: He was coming back; soon, she’d see his face again, hear that wonderful low, deep voice..... 

Maybe it wasn’t too late.  The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that it wasn’t.   

Jim was still sitting in the conference room long after everyone else had left, not even thinking conscious thoughts, just sitting there blinking, still stunned from what their branch manager had just announced.           

He was being transferred back to Scranton.  Unbelievable.  It would have been funny if the thought of seeing Pam again didn’t leave him feeling a little breathless, like someone had punched him unexpectedly in the stomach.            

The most unsettling thing about that feeling was that it brought him face to face with the reality that apparently, those old wounds were still as raw as they always had been.  That maybe he hadn’t really moved on as successfully as he’d believed he had.           

 Things had just started to look up for him over the past several weeks, after a long, slow, painful couple of months, during which time he had tried to immerse himself in his new job, trying to forget what had happened on Casino Night and the look on her face when he’d left her that last afternoon, tears on her cheeks, her mouth saying, “I can’t” while her eyes so clearly begged him not to leave.            

“Hey.” Andrea’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he glanced up to find her leaning in the doorway smiling at him. “Wow, you were a million miles away there.” She came to perch up on the conference room table next to where he sat, swinging her legs a little.  

He smiled back at her, actually glad to see her, because she reminded him that there was a life outside of Pam…that maybe he had effectively moved on, whether or not fate was shoving him backward.  

“Yeah, I was just….” He shook his head, then exhaled.  “Just…wow.  I can’t believe I’m going back there.” 

“I know.” Her voice was soft, and he could feel her eyes on his face.  Then she said, “But hey, I have to admit, I’m looking a little forward to it – I mean, how could I not be dying to meet this Dwight person?”  

He laughed at her then, but he was suddenly distracted at the thought of Andrea and Pam being in the same room with another.   

She’d been the first person he’d met when he’d wandered into the Stamford office three and a half months ago, his heart heavy, that dull ache having settled low in the pit of his stomach.  By that point, he’d stopped even hoping that it would go away. 

“You must be Jim.” She’d come out of the conference room, holding out a hand and smiling at him.  “I’m Andrea Rochester.”  

“Hi, Andrea -- yes, I’m Jim Halpert.” He smiled at her, and the first thing that struck him about her was that she was incredibly tiny, more than a foot shorter than he was, with impeccable dark skin and blue eyes that were a startlingly beautiful contrast to her skin tone, her hair long and straight and dark.   

Andrea had always been a naturally intuitive person, though with some people, her powers of perception seemed to be heightened more so than with others.  Jim was one of those people from whom she picked up an immediate vibe:  She knew instantly that he was a good guy, inherently very kind, with a quick wit and an intelligence that she didn’t often see in salesmen at Dunder Mifflin.

But what struck her most about Jim from the first moment when she’d shaken his hand was the profound sadness she detected in him; there seemed to be an aching, raw disillusionment behind his eyes, like he’d only just experienced something that devastated him.  She was immediately fascinated with him for that reason – because somehow, the melancholy didn’t seem to gel with the rest of his personality; he was charming, outgoing…but there was something reserved about him at the same time, like he was only willing – or perhaps even able – to open up so far.  

She’d been the one to show him around, had made sure to introduce him to everyone as they arrived, and she’d sort of kept a watchful eye on him all day long, oftentimes stepping in and offering help without his having to even ask.  It wasn’t hard for her to do, as her desk faced his, the two pushed together in much the same way that his and Dwight’s had been.   

In fact, he’d found himself thinking at one point that morning that maybe he could get used to looking up and seeing her smile, so radiant, with just a trace of mischief there, and such a contrast to Dwight’s perpetual scowl. 

She’d invited him to join her for lunch in the break room, and they’d laughed together when she’d taken out a ham and cheese sandwich just like his own.  She had already gotten a grape soda out of the fridge, making him shake his head, pointing at his own. 

“Okay, so if you pull out a bag of multi-colored goldfish crackers, I’m going to officially freak out.” She told him, grinning.  

He laughed, then produced his zip lock bag of carrot sticks, saying, “Oh well….” 

“Thank god!” She exhaled loudly. “I was beginning to think that either we’d been separated at birth or you were a stalker.” 

“Well in that case, I’m relieved, too, because I’m thinking somehow that there’s just no way you could convince anyone that we’re twins – unless we were the offspring of a giant and a pixie or something.”

He grinned, hoping he hadn’t offended her by alluding to her small size, but she had giggled at him, murmuring, “True, true.” 

“You know,” There was something that struck him as oddly familiar in her voice, in the look in her eyes. “I once convinced Glenn that I was part pixie.” 

“Are you serious?” Jim asked her, almost ready to believe it.  Glenn was probably the closest thing this branch had to a Dwight, only he was shades less obnoxious and a little more pleasant – but only in the sense that his paranoia manifested itself more in a kind of silent watchfulness than Dwight’s brand of suspicious aggression.  He was an older man in his fifties, balding, who never looked anyone directly in the eye and spoke very softly, saying the most bizarre things.  

Earlier that day, when Andrea had introduced him to Jim, his greeting was, “Hello. You’re very tall.”  And then he’d shuffled away, leaving Jim standing there baffled, Andrea with a hand covering her mouth to stifle her laughter.  Jim had looked down at her, their eyes meeting; he’d felt a sudden familiar warmth pass over him for a second when she’d grinned, shrugging her shoulders with a giggle. 

Jim could completely picture her convincing Glenn that she was descended from a long line of pixies, and for some reason, what she’d said struck him as truly funny, so he laughed for a few seconds, trying to ignore the sudden realization that this was the first time he’d laughed since that night at the poker table with Pam, when she’d looked so amazing, had said, “I’m going to take you all in.”   

When he’d given her all his chips in a symbolic gesture of what would come later. 

Andi watched his face, surprised when something shifted in his expression; she could almost see a shadow pass over him, his laughter sort of dying on his lips as his eyes fell to the table suddenly. 

“Wow….sad memory there…?”  Andrea’s voice was soft, startling him.  He hadn’t even realized he’d fallen silent, much less that she was watching him so closely. He wasn’t about to talk about it with her, but for some reason, it meant a lot to him that she’d noticed, that she was looking at him as if she actually gave a damn whether he was happy or sad.  

So instead he gave her a wide smile and said, “Yes, actually.  I was just….well, trying to come to grips with the fact that you’re not really part pixie.  Because Glenn told me you were.” 

She threw back her head and laughed with abandon at that, shaking her head at him as she rose to her feet, throwing away her lunch things and returning to her desk.  She’d known full well that he was deflecting the question because she’d hit a nerve, but she was content to let it go, because she understood the sorrow she’d seen in his eyes, having lived with it herself for the past six weeks, ever since Shannon had left. 

Jim felt an instant connection with her that reminded him a little of the way he’d felt when he’d first met Pam – just a mutual kind of warmth, platonic and harmless.  Or at least, that’s how it had started out with Pam…. 

Andrea made the days more bearable somehow, oftentimes leaning across the desk to whisper some anecdote about Glenn, introducing him to the wonder of jell-o with fruit in it, making him laugh every single day.   

And on one particularly dull afternoon (Stamford was, shockingly, even more dull than Scranton had been), she’d thoroughly impressed him by moving the various items that formed a barrier between their two desks, then tossing him a little paper triangle that she’d made, whispering, “Psst…. Let’s play!” 

He’d glanced up, startled to see that she’d formed little goal posts with her small hands, giving him a mischievous grin. She’d kept an eye on him all afternoon, because he seemed more haunted than usual that day.  When she’d glanced up to see him sitting with his chin in his hand, gazing at his computer screen absently with the most heartbreaking expression on his face, she couldn’t stand it anymore – had to do something to bring back his smile.  

“Are you challenging me to a game of football, Rochester?” It was the first time he’d called her by her last name only, and he recognized even as he did so that it was a sign that he really liked her, and not just because he had to.

 “What? Are you scared?” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Scared you might get beaten by a girl – a short girl, at that?” 

“Oh, height has nothing to do with this.” He’d assured her, then deftly flicked the paper her way. They’d played a few games, and Jim remembered Oscar and Kevin’s mammoth scorecard for Hateball, so he’d started a page on his desk calendar just for keeping track of their games.  She’d heckled him for doing so, then challenged him to what she called a “full-on tournament.”  

“Best out of nine, what do you say?” She asked.

 “Okay, deal.” He nodded, then, “So what are the stakes?”

“Loser has to buy drinks after work.” Her challenge was innocuous enough, as several people in the office routinely went to a bar every Friday after work for a drink or two.   

“Fair enough.” He’d nodded at her, flicking the paper triangle across the desk again. 

It had also been fairly harmless when they’d gradually started going out for drinks on their own once or twice a week without even really discussing what it was or what it meant. It had just seemed like a very seamless, natural progression.   He found that he really enjoyed her company; she was easy to talk to, and they seemed to have a lot in common. 

The absence of any sort of real tension also made things more comfortable; he told himself that the reason he was able to spend so much time with a woman whom he found incredibly attractive without wanting to pursue anything further was simply that he was distracted by the move, his new job responsibilities…even though on some level he was painfully aware that the reason for the absence of desire had nothing to do with Andi and everything to do with the fact that he just wasn’t open to it because he was in love with someone else.  Still. 

For her part, she had been surprised at her own willingness to spend time with him outside of work – her breakup with Shannon had been particularly messy, leaving her convinced that it would be a long, long time before she’d even want to get involved with another man again, in any capacity.   

And maybe that was it: Jim was safe, and she knew it; she knew that he wasn’t open to anything more than her friendship, which made her feel comfortable with him in a way that she hadn’t felt with any other guy after only knowing him for a few weeks.  Jim was just so funny and kind and an endless source of entertainment.  She liked it, too, that they shared a secret sorrow, whether or not he was even aware that she was making her own way through something painful.  

Jim was amazed at how incredibly perceptive she was, and he liked that about her, even though it was unnerving at times.  

On their second solo outing, she’d asked him, “So….I’m assuming no girlfriend?” 

The question caught him off guard, but he deflected it by asking indignantly, “What? You don’t think a girl would go out with a tall, gangly guy like me?” 

She’d laughed at that, causing him to smile.  For such a tiny thing, she had a great big laugh, and it always caught him pleasantly off guard to hear it.   

“You totally read my mind!” She exclaimed, still laughing.  “That’s exactly what I was thinking: I’m going to ask him if he’s got a girlfriend just to be mean, because I know for a fact that no woman would have him, mutant that he is.” 

“Oh?” His eyebrows raised. “I’m a mutant now? Thank you, Andrea, for letting me know.”

But he couldn’t keep the smile from his lips, trying to just enjoy the sound of her laughter, pretending that the topic of his romantic status didn’t make him feel the slightest bit nervous.  But it did, and he wasn’t entirely sure why – maybe because she seemed to pick up on everything, and he was somehow terrified that she’d ask him just the right question, and it would all come rushing back. 

Even as he thought that, he could feel her eyes on his face, her right eyebrow raised, chin in her hand as she looked at him.  He realized then that when the eyebrow was up, she was thinking, figuring things out. 

So he said, “No, no girlfriend.  What about you?” 

“Mmm,” She shook her head, still leaning with her chin in her hand, her dark hair swishing as it cascaded down past her shoulders; he felt for a brief, weird moment the random urge to reach out and touch it, let it fall through his fingers. “Nope, no girlfriend for me either.” 

He chuckled at her. “Oh, that’s nice.” 

She grinned, then sat up, shrugging her shoulders. “No, I’m single.” It occurred to her that it was the first time she’d had to say that since her two year relationship had ended, and she was a little surprised at how difficult it was to say the words.

He could’ve sworn a shadow passed over her features, and before he could stop himself, he asked, “But…only recently single?” 

She looked surprised by the question, eyes meeting his, then she said, her voice softer than usual, “Yes, only recently.” Her eyes lowered to the table, and Jim was suddenly curious, wondering what her story was. 

So he asked gently, cautiously, “Looks like maybe there’s a sad story there….?” 

She raised her eyes back to his, their eyes holding for a second.  Then she gave him a small smile. “Yes, there is, but….well, let’s just say that I’m about as eager to talk about it as you are about whatever – or whoever – is responsible for that darkness that falls over you sometimes.” 

He felt a little jolt down his spine – pain, shock, something he couldn’t quite place.  His eyebrows raised, and he would’ve spoken if he’d been able to.  She could see that she’d caught him off guard with her answer, that somehow he was a little stung at how direct she’d been; she knew that she’d startled him by alluding to the fact that she’d picked up on the sadness in him.  She found herself thinking again that whatever it was he was grieving must have happened very recently, because it was obviously still an open wound for him. 

“Hey, I’m sorry.” She said quietly. “I didn’t mean for that to come out quite so…direct.” 

“No, hey, don’t worry about it.” He shook his head, feeling oddly relieved.  At least their cards were sort of on the table now, which made him feel reassured for reasons he couldn’t have explained.  

Then she raised her glass, saying, “Here’s to leaving the dark stuff behind.” 

He grinned at her, hoisting his beer, then hesitating, prompting her to ask, “What?” 

“Oh nothing, it’s just….” He looked serious for a moment, then, “I just can’t bear the thought of tapping my beer mug against a glass with an appletini in it.” 

“Oh, go to hell, Halpert.” She glared at him, and he laughed in delight, clinking his glass against hers.  It occurred to him then rather arbitrarily that, while he could enjoy her company like one of the guys, he kind of loved it that she was somehow all girl.  ________________________________________________________________________ 

Over the course of his first eight weeks at the Stamford branch, they’d established a comfortable rapport that was purely platonic, eventually moving to going out to dinner together, seeing movies, then daring to start spending time at each other’s apartments, though they were careful to maintain their distance, neither bringing up the subject of what exactly they were to each other, careful not to cross any lines. 

Jim assumed that she was really in the same position he was in; she seemed to have been deeply wounded by her last relationship, and he gathered that, like him, she was just enjoying the company without the added pressure of a romantic entanglement.   It was a strange situation; he’d never really had a relationship with a female quite like it before.  He felt close to her, a lot like the way he’d felt with Pam, but there was technically nothing keeping him from pursuing her, aside from his own fear and her reticence. 

Was he attracted to her?  Yes, but in a mild sort of way, compared to the slow burn he’d felt for Pam, which had gradually gotten to the point at which it was physically painful sometimes when she smiled at him. With Andrea, it was just…easy, no urgency, no anxiety.  He was attracted to her but didn’t feel compelled to pursue it, and that was one of the unique things about their rapport: She seemed to be in exactly the same place.  He could feel the way she looked at him sometimes, and he noticed that he had the ability to make her smile like no one else could, but she still maintained a distance.  And it was fine with him.  

He was right in assuming that she was in much the same place as him in the sense that she wasn’t looking for something more with him than friendship, despite the fact that she was attracted to him.  There was something incredibly alluring in his vulnerability; she didn’t know if it was because that vulnerability reassured her that he was probably incapable of the kind of heartlessness Shannon had shown, or whether it was just that his melancholy hinted at the depth in him that lay beneath the surface.  

In any case, where the similarities in what they felt for each other ended was the simple fact that, with his total kindness and irresistible charm, he was slowly helping Andi to heal; the more time she spent with him, the more distant her disastrous relationship with Shannon seemed.

But for Jim, while Andi sort of brought him back to himself – or at least, brought some laughter and light back into his life, which surely would’ve remained completely dark without her – he didn’t feel any closer to healing from all that had happened with Pam before he’d left.  It still cut right through him when he pictured her face or caught himself thinking back to that night, the feeling of her lips on his, the stricken expression on her face as she’d stood and cried, pulling back from him when he would have touched her. 

So he tried to distract himself and was most successful when he was with Andi; it was only late in the evenings, when he lay in bed in the darkness, that he felt the shadow of Pam hovering over him, keeping that wound open somehow.   

Ten weeks after he’d moved, he had heard a knock on his apartment door late one Friday night.  He’d dropped Andrea off at her apartment three hours earlier and hadn’t been able to sleep, so he was sitting up in bed reading, wearing a pair of old pajama bottoms, his chest bare.   

He was sure it had to be one of his neighbor’s friends (again) who often staggered mistakenly to his door in a drunken stupor.  He’d learned in his first week in the apartment that he should never, never leave the door unlocked.  A record six times now, someone had drunkenly either knocked on his door, or – on four separate occasions – wandered right in. 

So he didn’t bother with a shirt, just swung the door open in exasperation – and to his shock, there was Andrea, eyes swollen, nose red, gazing up at him, then scanning his bare chest in surprise. 

“Oh my god, I’m –“ At first he was so flustered he couldn’t speak, then, seeing the expression on her face, he took her hand and led her gently inside, asking, “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

She hadn’t even thought about it – after Shannon had shown up at her apartment drunk, begging her back, pulling her into his arms and holding her there as his lips sought hers, refusing to leave until she suddenly physically shoved him out the door - she had immediately felt compelled to go to Jim.  She just needed him somehow, needed to see his face, to hear that deep voice of his, because she couldn’t get her hands to stop shaking no matter what she did. 

As she’d driven to his apartment, still sobbing uncontrollably, the tears were as much in reaction to the horrible scene with Shannon as they were a result of the realization that she was falling hard for Jim…that she felt frightened at how much she needed him right now.  The understanding that no one else on earth could have comforted her at that moment caught her off guard, scared her; the certainty that she could run to him like this – could show up on his doorstep after midnight on a Friday night, sobbing like a baby – and he would be great about it, made her realize that she wanted so much more with him than just to be his friend.   The realizations terrified her because he wasn’t open to anything more, and she knew that; he was still haunted by whomever he’d left behind back in Scranton.   

She’d tried to compose herself as she climbed the stairs to his floor, still sniffling, telling herself that maybe she was making too much of the need she felt to see him; it was probably just because what Shannon had done had really freaked her out, so she’d needed a friend, someone who would listen to her – just a shoulder to cry on, nothing more.   

But she’d had a hard time of believing that when he’d opened the door wearing only a pair of old plaid pajama bottoms, his chest bare.  She’d felt an odd twinge deep in her stomach as her eyes rested on his broad shoulders, taking in the dark hair that covered his chest, putting him suddenly in an altogether different realm – no longer safe.   And he’d been so sweet, just like she knew he would, immediately looking alarmed at her tears, pulling her inside, asking what was wrong.  

She dissolved into tears again as soon as he asked, and he was caught off guard for an instant, feeling awkward – could he go put a shirt on first, or did he need to hug her immediately?   She looked so tiny and sad and broken that he couldn’t stand it, so he pulled her to him, figuring he could gauge the no-shirt thing by how she responded. 

She didn’t seem to mind his bare chest at all, leaning gratefully against him, hands resting lightly against the hair on his chest, head resting against him as her whole body shook.  His arms circled her automatically, a protectiveness rising within him, its ferocity taking him a bit by surprise. 

“What’s wrong, Andi?  C’mon, shh….” He spoke to her softly, running a hand down the length of her hair; he was struck by how incredibly soft it was beneath his fingers. “Talk to me….” 

“I don’t….” She tried to talk, but she was drawing in deep, hiccoughing breaths, unable to get a sentence out.  

“Hey, listen….whatever it is, it’s okay now.” He tried to calm her down, caught very much off guard at the depth of her sorrow.  He’d seen the occasional shadow fall over her face, but never anything even close to this. 

He held her for about five minutes, feeling a little self conscious at the fact that he didn’t have a shirt on, but she seemed not to mind at all; in fact, she was leaning heavily against him, pressed close and unbelievably tiny, her cheek against his chest as she slowly, slowly stopped crying. Because he didn’t have on a shirt, he could feel her tears actually wet on his skin, and that somehow made him feel that much more protective over her. 

It felt so good to just let herself go, to feel his arms encircling her tightly as his hand stroked her hair, her head lying on his bare chest as she cried like a child.  As her tears subsided, she’d closed her eyes and inhaled his scent, clean with something spicy there that made her realize that her sorrow was slowly slipping away, replaced by a burning desire to feel his lips on hers.  

Finally, she raised her head, shifting back to look at him wearily, unable to tear her eyes from his chest. He saw her gaze sweep his bare chest, and he felt a flush on his cheeks, then said, “I should go put on a shirt –“ 

“No, don’t; it’s okay, really.” She tried to smile but failed.  

“So….” His eyes scanned her face.  “You ready to talk about it?” 

She tilted her jaw to the side slightly, took in a deep breath, then said, “Shannon came over.” 

He looked at her blankly, not sure who Shannon was.  

“Shannon?” He repeated, fairly certain she’d never told him about any friends she had named Shannon. 

“I’m sorry – my ex.” She said, and he nodded – hadn’t been expecting that as her answer.

“Okay.” He watched her closely, aware of a strange feeling deep in his stomach, a twisting, a discomfort at the mention of her ex-boyfriend.  He forced himself to ignore it.  “So what did he want?” 

“Me.” She tried to laugh bitterly, but again failed, as her laughter caught on a sob.  Jim was starting to get seriously concerned. 

“What does that mean?” His tone was careful, measured. 

“Oh, it just means that he was drunk and he was out of his mind and he was really…. pushy.”

She started to cry again, because it was harder to talk about this than she’d anticipated it would be.   

“Whoa, wait a second.” He was aware that his heart was beating a little more quickly, the way that it did when he was dangerously close to getting angry.  “What do you mean, ‘pushy’?  What does that mean?” 

She didn’t answer him right away, only sat there in silence for a second, gazing off, her eyes fixed absently on the opposite wall as Jim looked at her.  The panic he was starting to feel surprised him; the vehemence of his reaction to the various scenarios swirling through his head also caught him off guard.  

His concern moved her, but it also confused her; while she’d fully expected he’d be sympathetic and kind to her, she hadn’t anticipated seeing the anger in his eyes.  She could have sworn there was a sense of possessiveness mingled in there, as if he were not just angry at what Shannon had done, but was slightly jealous as well.  She was starting to wonder if she shouldn’t have come here so reflexively, because maybe the whole situation was just too emotionally charged for either she or Jim to really handle right now.  

“Andrea.” His voice was firm now, as he was starting to feel seriously disturbed by the various possibilities he was imagining. “I need you to tell me what happened.” 

“God, Jim, I’m sorry.” She shook her head.  “This is really embarrassing… I don’t know why I did this.” 

She truly did look a little mortified, and he was completely confused, but also unwilling to let it go. “Why would you be embarrassed?  There’s nothing for you to be embarrassed about, seriously.” He gave her a gentle smile, squeezed one of her hands. “So will you tell me what he did?” 

She took another deep, quivering breath and started to talk, describing what had happened as Jim listened, aware that his jaw was tensing with that unexpected anger.  It was better than he’d originally thought – he had initially imagined all sorts of horrible scenarios, had even feared for a second that the guy had tried to rape her – but apparently, in spite of the fact that Shannon had apparently been all over her, she’d been able to get him to the door, then shove him out, locking it quickly behind her.   

“He stood out there and banged on my door for fifteen minutes, and then one of my neighbors must’ve called the cops, because I heard them come up later and escort him away.” Her eyes were huge as she watched his face.  

“Andi, are you telling me….” He wasn’t sure if he should ask her this, but somehow, he had to know.  “Are you telling me that this guy would’ve….tried to rape you if you hadn’t gotten him out of there?” 

She shook her head, but not quickly enough to really quell Jim’s fears. “No, Jim, I really don’t think he would.” 

“You don’t ‘think’?” His voice was incredulous.  “Wow.” 

“What?” She raised her head to look at him, something angry flashing behind her eyes for a split second. 

“No, nothing, I just….” He exhaled.  This was pretty far out of his league, he was sure.  “Just a little…alarming.” 

“He’d never do that sober, let’s put it that way.  And he’s never done anything remotely like it before.” She told him, touched by the concern in his eyes.   

Well, Jim thought, that was at least something. 

Silence fell, then he said cautiously, “I really don’t think that it would be the best idea if you went home tonight, given that he’s….well….” 

He couldn’t finish, because he suddenly felt incredibly awkward sitting that close to her on the couch, his chest still bare.  And she seemed to be having a hard time looking at him. 

She knew that he was right, but the idea of spending the night with him alone in his apartment frightened her – not because she didn’t trust Jim, but because she didn’t trust herself.  She wanted him too much.  But what could she do?  She couldn’t very well insist on leaving, on going back to her place when Shannon may very well show up again.  She had no choice than but to stay.  

“No, I think you’re right.” She smiled shyly at him. 

“So listen, you can sleep in my bed, and I’ll take the couch.” He told her, but she immediately shook her head. 

“No way; I’m not chasing you out of your own bed.” She told him, rolling her eyes at him, for a second feeling that old comfortable dynamic return as she thought, all right, so I can handle this. It’s Jim, after all.   

He grinned back at her in response. “Well I’m not about to curse you to sleeping on this couch, either.  Believe me, it’s nothing you want to experience.” 

“Well there you go.” She looked satisfied, and for the first time since she’d shown up at his door, he saw a glimmer of her usual self shining through. “Now I know your couch is horrible, so there’s no way I’m letting you sleep on it.” 

He gave her a funny look, not quite sure what she was getting at, then she said, “So here’s the deal: Unless you have a twin sized bed….?” 

She trailed off, expecting an answer, so he supplied, “It’s queen sized.” 

“Okay, so it’s queen sized.  As you are so fond of pointing out, I myself am not exactly very big –“ They exchanged a grin.  “So it’s totally plausible that we could share your bed.  It doesn’t have to be a big deal, Jim.” 

What she’d said surprised even herself, but as she felt herself growing calmer and calmer by degrees, she thought that maybe she’d been making too much of what she felt for him.  It was just a little crush, which was totally understandable, given how close they were; besides, she was fairly certain he was harboring a harmless little crush of his own.  She’d seen the way he looked at her sometimes, and he seemed fine with not pursuing it.  So there was no reason to think they couldn’t handle sleeping in the same bed.  

The way she said it made him believe her, so he reluctantly agreed, nodding, then saying, “Okay.  So, do you want to stay up and watch TV for a while, or are you…?” 

“I’m really tired, actually.” She told him, and she definitely looked it.  He knew she had to have been wiped out, as hard as she’d been crying earlier.

“Okay.” He nodded, then, surveying what she wore – jeans and a black turtleneck – “Do you want me to give you something to sleep in?” 

“That’d be great.” She said, then, “Do you have some pajamas with feet in them?  They’re my favorite.”  

He rolled his eyes, then, “No, but I have an adorable little shorts set with hearts and bows all over it.” She giggled at him as he nodded toward his bedroom with his head, saying, “C’mon, let’s see what we can find.” 

He wasn’t sure what the etiquette was here, but she seemed completely relaxed as he reached in one of his drawers and handed her a clean tee-shirt.  He knew that it would probably hang to her knees, if not lower, but he still felt like he should give her something to wear on the bottom, too.  But the very idea of giving her a pair of his sweatpants or pajama bottoms was ludicrous; they’d have fallen right off her small hips.  

She was watching him, and as usual, picked up on what he was thinking.  So she grinned slyly and said, “If it’s not too forward of me to ask you for your underwear, a pair of boxers would round out the outfit quite nicely.” 

He felt a blush stain his cheeks, which only prompted her to laugh even harder as he shook his head, reaching into the drawer and handing her a pair of black boxer shorts. 

“Very nice.” She teased, then he shooed her into the bathroom to change, pulling out another tee-shirt and sliding it quickly over his head.  He stood awkwardly waiting for her to come out, because somehow it didn’t seem right to just be lying there in the bed waiting for her when she emerged.  This whole situation was unnerving him, despite the fact that he kept reminding himself that this was nothing, that she was just his friend….. 

As she quickly took off her jeans and turtleneck, standing in his bathroom wearing only a bra and panties, she wondered if she should leave her bra on, just to make things easier on him – if, in fact, this situation was unnerving him as much as it seemed to be.  And then, realizing that she didn’t want to make it easier for him, she slipped her bra off her shoulders before pulling on his oversized shirt and boxers.   

He couldn’t help but laugh when she emerged from the bathroom, his the tee-shirt hanging just past her knees, the sleeves hitting at about her mid-forearm.  He couldn’t even see the boxers, as they were hidden beneath the long tee-shirt.  

“Thanks a lot, Halpert.” She snapped, pretending to be offended.  He saw her eyes fall on his tee-shirt, and he thought for a second that she looked disappointed that he’d put on a shirt, but he was sure it was his imagination.  

“So which side do you sleep on?” She asked, leaning to put her pile of clothes on his dresser.  He noticed then that one lacy strap had fallen out of the pile, and he realized for the first time that she wasn’t wearing her bra anymore. 

The taut feeling low in his gut caught him very much off guard, but he forced himself to remain nonchalant.  “I sleep on this side.” 

“Okay.” She nodded resolutely as their eyes met and held for a second.  She laughed to break the tension, then said, “Okay, so I can see that you’re ever the gentleman, so I’m going to get in first.” 

“Please do.” He held a hand out, grinning at her and gesturing for her to climb into the bed. When she was safely under the covers, he dared to slide in next to her, careful not to touch her at all, hovering close to his side of the bed.   

They talked for a little while, first about his apartment, about the weird drunken neighbors who were prone to trying to come in at all hours, then about the storm that had started to rage outside about half an hour before.  Eventually, he felt the drowsiness taking over him, so he murmured a “good night” and drifted off.  

He awoke some time later with a start, feeling her press her body fully against his back, arms circling him around the waist from behind.  He felt disoriented for a second, then wondered if maybe she was asleep and dreaming, unaware of what she was doing. 

She had lain there next to him in agony for close to an hour, knowing that she should try to get some sleep, to just forget the impulses that were assaulting her one after the other: He’s right next to you; all you have to do is touch him, and you know he won’t be able to resist, because he’s attracted to you, too. You’ve seen it in his eyes.  And maybe this is what you both need; maybe this will take you both away from the darkness and into a place where you can both be happy. 

It had been the fierce curiosity about what it would feel like to have his lips on her own that had been her undoing.  Without thinking about it any further, she had slid across the bed, slipping her arms around his waist and pressing herself against him.  

She could sense it by the way his body tensed that she’d woken him up, so she whispered, “Hi.” 

“Hi.” He whispered back, completely confused and flustered.  Then he asked, his back still to her, his voice barely above a whisper, “What are you doing?” 

“Will you look at me?” She asked in answer, her breath warm against his back, permeating the thin fabric of his tee-shirt. 

He knew as soon as he turned toward her, her face dangerously close to his, that this was a bad idea, that he was in over his head. He lay on his side staring at her, his heart starting to pound as he tried in vain to distract himself.  He was waiting for her to talk, to say something, to give him some idea about what the hell was going on. 

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was a whisper. “I can’t just lie here beside you anymore; I can’t just pretend that….” 

Her voice trailed off, and he was confused – or at least, he thought he was confused.  Was she telling him that she wanted…..? 

“I can’t pretend anymore that I don’t want you, Jim.”

Her words sent a jolt right through him, and he swallowed hard, the already aching desire in him quickening.  He didn’t know what to say, so he simply stared at her, certain that his expression was intense, thinking maybe he ought to try to smile, but he couldn’t do it.  His heart was pounding so hard he felt it in his ears. 

The fact that he simply lay there staring at her, those eyes burning into hers, instead of immediately pouncing on her made her want him that much more.  In fact, as she gazed at him, she suddenly realized that all she wanted was to make him lose control, to just go with it instead of letting the fear hold him back.Because she picked up on his confusion, his hesitation. 

She smiled, then, “You’re killing me, you know.  I don’t know how you do it, how you remain so….controlled.” 

He chuckled nervously, the laughter dying on his lips as he felt the full force of how much he wanted her wash over him, catching him very much off guard. Then he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “I’m afraid you’re dangerously close to making me lose it.” 

Her eyes closed briefly at his words, then she whispered, “Please do.” 

He groaned when his lips closed over hers, feeling her hands immediately pushing his tee-shirt aside urgently as her lips moved beneath his.  Her lips, her hands were impatient, as if this was something she’d been waiting for.  Her impatience only spurred him on further, and he found himself shocked again at how much he wanted her.  His lust for her seemed to have just taken possession of him suddenly, without warning. 

It seemed to him that things got out of hand fairly quickly, maybe because it was too easy to push his own huge clothes off of her tiny frame, feeling his breath catch in his throat at the sight of her naked, her smooth skin and taut body making him feel the need to close his eyes for a second, just to get a hold of himself. 

Maybe it was the way that her mouth seemed to be everywhere – his neck, shoulders, lips, chest - her small hands driving him slowly out of his mind as she touched him skillfully, making him feel dizzy; maybe it was the way that she moaned beneath his touch, whispering his name, clutching his forearm as his fingers explored her with an expertise that made her writhe in ecstasy.   

Or maybe it was just that he felt a hunger burning that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.   

He hesitated when they were both completely naked, when he felt her pressing herself against him in a way that made him unable to see straight.  Then he asked hoarsely, “Are you sure you want this?” 

He asked because it was happening so fast, because he knew he wanted it, but he wasn’t sure what the hell it would even mean for them.  And he didn’t want to hurt her; god knows the ex had seemed to have done a fine job of that already. 

“God, yes, Jim.” She whispered throatily against him. “Yes, more than you know.” 

They were just the right words to make him lose control.   

It had been almost a whirlwind after that, something that he felt himself swept up in without even thinking about it, without consciously analyzing what it was that he felt for her, exactly.  But she didn’t ask him.  

The first few weeks were a blissful haze of laughter and sex; she fascinated him, because she had so much in common with him, so she could sort of hang out with him as one of the guys, but then at the same time, she was enigmatic and every inch a female, had the capacity to reduce him to damn near animal status in the sense that he couldn’t seem to get enough of her, ever.  

He couldn’t have articulated just what it was about her that turned him on so much, other than that she embraced her femininity in a way that made her incredibly sexy, earthy….maddening. 

She’d invited him over for dinner one night, and when he rang her doorbell, she’d opened the door wearing nothing but a tiny bra and panties, smiling up at him innocently, one hand on the door frame.  On another occasion, she’d performed an impromptu strip tease for him, initially as a joke because they’d had the radio on and Sophie B. Hawkins’s “Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover” came on.  But he’d found that his laughter subsided as he watched her move, the motion of her hips driving him to distraction, the sight of her running her hands seductively along the curves of her body making him feel almost drunk, captivated, so aroused that he couldn’t do anything other than stare up at her as she moved, feeling that lovely haze of desire fall over him.   

The song hadn’t even been over before he had pulled her to him, backing her up against the wall as his lips hungrily devoured hers, her fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt.  Put simply, she made him feel like a man – strong, masculine, desirable.   

She seemed to awaken a hunger in him that he hadn’t even been aware before existed, really, but now….he just couldn’t keep his hands off of her.   

And she was fiercely independent as well, needing her space sometimes; she was, in fact, a welcome contrast to Katy, who had been the last person with whom he’d had a relationship. Katy had been clingy and very much invested in knowing every single time they spoke exactly what he was thinking and feeling.  He got the sense that Andrea didn’t ask probably because she was so damned intuitive; it startled him sometimes, the things she picked up on.  

They’d very cautiously danced around the issue of Pam two weeks after they’d slept together for the first time.  She’d brought it up hesitantly, cautiously, and he felt a part of him almost shut down.  

“Okay.” Her voice was soft, a small smile on her lips. “I can see that you’re not ready to talk about it – and that’s okay; we don’t have to, you know.” 

It was uncanny how well she could read him. Because of that, he allowed himself to start talking – hesitantly, almost disjointedly.  He didn’t name names, and he didn’t tell her it had been someone he’d once worked with; instead, he just told her that there had been a girl with whom he’d been very close, that she’d been his best friend, but had been engaged. 

“Ah.” Her voice was soft, her eyes roaming his face. “You were in love with her?” 

He glanced up, startled to hear her say it out loud, ignoring the twinge of pain deep in his belly, then nodded slowly. 

“Did she know?” She asked.  He was actually grateful for her questions, because they spared him the pain of narrating the whole story in all its pathetic detail.  

“In the beginning, no, I don’t think so, but after a while, I’m pretty sure she picked up on it.” His eyes were focused on something far away, and Andrea could see he was deep in thought.  

“Did you ever tell her?” She asked, sorry that she had, because an expression of sheer pain had flickered across his face for a second.  “Hey, I’m sorry….”  

She reached out to touch his cheek lightly, then pulled back, sensing that he needed space.  But he forced a smile, reaching out to take her hand, telling himself that if he was ever going to truly get past this, he had to just get it out, had to face it, had to talk about it.  He couldn’t have imagined an easier person to talk to about it than Andi, because she seemed to intuit so much on her own.  

“I did…tell her.” He nodded.  She saw his jaw tense, resisted the urge to touch his cheek again, only held tight to his hand.   

He was silent for several long minutes, so she asked softly, “It didn’t go well….?” 

It was as if he didn’t hear her for a moment; he sat stock still, a vacant stare on his face, then he shook his head suddenly, his voice a little strained as he answered, “Well, no, I mean…. She wasn’t very receptive.” He had to stop then because this was harder than he thought it would be.

 “What did she say?” As Andi’s eyes scanned his face, she found herself wondering how in the world any woman could ever reject this man.   

His lips twitched as he said, “She said, ‘I can’t.’” 

Andrea’s brows knitted, and she repeated, “’I can’t’…?  Did she ever say she didn’t feel the same for you, or just that she couldn’t….?” 

He shook his head. “No, she never said she didn’t.” 

For a second, Andi forgot herself, blurting out, “That’s not a rejection, Jim; that sounds like denial to me.” And then she thought, nice one, Andi; convince your new boyfriend that the girl who broke his heart is really secretly in love with him. 

“Denial….” He gave a bitter little chuckle.  “That came later.” 

“Later?” She asked. 

“Yeah.  I went back after she sent me away, because….” He twisted his lips to the side, unable to continue for a moment as he remembered how helpless and desperate he had felt that night. “I knew she wasn’t being honest with me, wasn’t even being honest with herself.  So I found her, and I… I kissed her.” 

Now Andi was finding it a little hard to breathe, asking softly, “Did she respond?” 

He saw a flash in his mind of Pam in his arms, her hands winding up to sink into his hair as she kissed him back; he remembered the way she had trembled slightly.  

“Yes.” He answered, his own voice little more than a whisper.  Then he suddenly shook his head and said, “Wow, let’s change the subject – what do you say?” 

But Andi couldn’t let it go just yet. “I just…. How did you leave things?  I just can’t figure out how this…. I mean, it sounds like it was a happy ending to me, but clearly I’m missing something.” 

“She said she was sorry, ran out of the building.” He took a deep breath. “She told me the next day that we had to forget it all, pretend it never happened.” 

“Why?” “Because she wasn’t strong enough to leave Roy.” It had been so long since he’d said that name that it tasted bitter on his tongue, so he added, a little bit of desperation in his voice, “So seriously – over, done, past.  Let’s deal with the here and now, shall we?” 

She smiled at him gamely, but she found herself actually pitying that girl, whoever she was, to have married a man that she couldn’t really have loved.  She knew instinctively that there was just no way the girl could’ve been as close to Jim as he said they were without truly being in love with him, too; Andi just knew it in her gut, and she was so rarely wrong.  Aside from that, women who were engaged to be married just didn’t go around kissing other men – especially after an admission like Jim’s – unless there was something terribly wrong there.  

Jim was relieved in a way that he’d told her.  There had been something cathartic about it, and somehow, the way that she’d handled it made him feel even closer to her.  She’d been compassionate but cool; curious, but respectful of his boundaries, backing off just when he needed her to.  And she’d hadn’t pressed him about it again, though he knew it was probably hard for her not to, because he’d given her such sparse details. 

He told himself that none of it mattered anymore because she was his focus now, and she was clearly crazy about him.  She made him feel incredible – appreciated, above all else.  It took him a while to get used to how effusive she could be with him; nothing was lost on her – if he so much as opened a door for her, she would smile slightly, then whisper, “You’re amazing, you know.”  

He could honestly say that he’d never been happier in a relationship before in his life.  Was he in love with her?  No, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying; he desperately wanted to fall in love with her, but somehow, he wasn’t able to get there just yet.  He sensed that maybe she had fallen for him harder than she’d intended to, though she never brought it up – probably because she was following his lead, having picked up on his own hesitation.   

He’d finally felt like his life was starting to come back together, and then he’d gotten the news that they would be transferred to the Scranton branch.   Andi, who had no idea what that signified for Jim, was initially elated, because there had been a chance that they could have transferred her elsewhere.  And he was glad, too, of course, that they weren’t going to be separated; it would have devastated him to lose her, and he knew that.  

But he felt….defeated somehow at the way that news had hit him so hard.  He felt like he almost couldn’t breathe at the thought of seeing Pam again, which made him uncomfortable, because he wasn’t anxious to go anywhere near the living hell from which he’d emerged after that horrible night and the excruciating feeling of hearing her say the last time he’d seen her, “I just can’t, Jim; I can’t.”  

Phyllis had been the first to email him after Pam had called off the engagement (though emails from Ryan, Michael, Toby, Kelly, and Oscar had immediately followed, making him wonder just how transparent he’d been), a few weeks after he and Andi had started meeting for drinks after work.  He’d sat in front of his computer feeling absolutely stunned.  At first he’d been almost elated, as he was certain that at any minute, he’d get an email from Pam herself. 

But then there was nothing, and it was like being rejected by her all over again, maybe was even worse this time because now she didn’t have Roy holding her back.  He wondered if he’d been completely wrong, had misread everything about the last three and a half years.  He had to have been wrong; if she wanted him, nothing would have kept her from emailing him, right?  

So he’d moved forward with Andi, after a while not even looking for an email from Pam.  He would’ve loved to have been able to say that he didn’t still think about her every day – too many times a day -- but he couldn’t say that; thoughts of her still crowded his mind, though they grew less and less intense the closer he got to Andrea.   

He wondered as the days passed, bringing them closer to their Scranton transfer, if he should tell Andrea his history with Pam, to warn her somehow.  But then he was disgusted at himself for even thinking that, because to have cautioned her would have implied that she had a reason to worry, and she just didn’t.  

Pam didn’t want him, and even if she did….well, it was just too late now. 

Pam glanced again at the clock anxiously: 8:47 am.  Damn it.  She wished she knew exactly when he would get there, so she could just relax and breathe.            

Jim and another Stamford person – an Andrea something or other – were officially starting today; two other people were still in talks, negotiating whether or not they’d go to the newly re-opened Pittsfield or Scranton.  Michael hadn’t been sure exactly what time Jim and the new girl would arrive, only that it should be some time before lunch. 

Then she heard the double doors to their suite swish open, and she couldn’t help but jump, turning quickly to the door.  When she did, she saw a deliveryman carrying an enormous bouquet of roses.   

Out of habit, she started to call for Phyllis, but the man said, “Delivery for Pam Beesley.” 

“Me?” She asked, startled, and then immediately, she thought: Jim.   She worried that she’d cry on the spot, because it was so like him to send her flowers on his first day back, and it must’ve been his way of saying that he wanted to try again, to start over now that there was nothing holding them back; she was sure he’d heard by now that she’d broken the engagement with Roy. 

His gesture gave her so much hope that she almost couldn’t contain herself, could barely sign for the roses, taking the vase and setting it on her desk, her hand shaking visibly as she reached for the card.  

It took her a few minutes of fumbling until she managed to get it out of the envelope, and she felt herself tremble even more as she read:  “Today would’ve been ten years.  I just want you to know that I miss you, babe, and that I’m here waiting…. I can’t imagine marrying any woman other than you.  I love you – I always will. Roy.”  

She was stunned – stunned and disappointed and hurt all at once.  Roy had sent her flowers maybe four times in all of their years together.  More amazing than that was the fact that never in all that time had he let on that he remembered the anniversary of when they’d started dating in high school, but as she thought back, she realized that she had always been the one to bring it up first, assuming that he would forget.   Had she been wrong?            

Before she could even collect herself or figure out how to respond, the doors opened again, and there was Jim – tall, startlingly handsome, looking like a vision she’d conjured over all those months of aching, of missing him.

He was wearing a white shirt and her favorite tie, his brown one with the basket weave.  His hair was a little shorter than before, but it only made him look that much more appealing. In fact, it seemed like nothing short of a miracle that he was standing there.  His eyes met hers but only for a second before he immediately turned away, glancing down at the girl who stood next to him.  

Pam was still shaking when they came inside the office, hoping she wouldn’t just cry at the indifference on his face.  His eyes hadn’t lingered on her the way they once had; he’d just turned away to smile at the girl beside him, who, in turn, gave him what looked to Pam like an expression of absolute adoration.   

Jim felt rooted to the spot at the sight of her, her face so familiar that it hurt…the face that he’d seen so often over the past three and a half months in his dreams – fast, blurry, a haze that left him feeling that dull ache when he woke up.  She’d been standing there next to a vase of roses, clutching the card with a flush on her cheeks.  He found himself realizing with a sinking feeling that maybe it wasn’t over with Roy after all. 

He hadn’t even been aware that he was just standing there staring at her until Andi suddenly startled him by stepping toward Pam and extending her hand, “Hi, I’m Andrea Rochester.” 

“Pam Beesley.” She smiled at the girl, thinking maybe it had been her imagination, the look she’d been giving Jim earlier. 

“Nice to meet you.” Andi smiled, then, glancing at Jim, laughed and added, “And this is Jim Halpert, whom you know well, I’m sure.” 

It was a painfully awkward moment for both of them.  She couldn’t bring herself to tear her eyes from his face. Yes, I know him; I’ve seen him cry, felt his lips on mine…. 

He, in turn, couldn’t even look at her, desperately wishing that Andi wasn’t standing there, wishing he and Pam were alone so that they could talk, navigate this awkward terrain on their own.   

Michael’s voice rang out then, thankfully breaking the tension as he exclaimed loudly, “Jimbo! Jimbag! SlimJim! Jimclip! Jim Beam! Jim shorts!”  

“Wow.” Jim exclaimed as Michael rushed over to embrace him.  When he let go, Jim murmured, “You’ve been storing those up, I guess.”

“Huh?” Michael didn’t get it, but his attention immediately turned to Andi.  He gave her a wide smile, then exclaimed, “You must be Andrea – hey, you’re like a real person, only smaller!” 

Jim was grateful that he’d warned her about Michael; she glanced up at him, a small grin pulling at her lips, and Jim gave her a little conspiratorial wink in return. Okay, Pam thought, so I did not imagine that.  She felt hot, flushed, completely caught off guard.  For some reason, she’d pictured Andrea Rochester to be an older woman, scary looking and big boned, like the madwoman in the attic from Jane Eyre. She hadn’t expected someone near her own age, much less someone with as striking a face as this girl had…someone who obviously had a rapport with Jim.   

Then Dwight suddenly appeared as if out of nowhere, standing next to Michael and sizing Andrea up, not even bothering to greet her. 

But she saved him the effort, smiling at him and extending her hand as she said, “You must be Dwight.”  

“How did you know that?” Dwight asked, eyeing her suspiciously, ignoring the hand she offered him.  

“Oh, it was…just a guess.” She smiled warmly at him, and then Jim interceded. 

“Dwight, I missed you so much.” He told him with a smile.  “Did you miss me?” 

“No.” Dwight spat at him.  

“Wow.” Jim pretended to wince, then, “That really hurts. I thought that I meant something to you.” 

“You are so gay.” Dwight shook his head, and Michael suddenly said, “Okay, okay, knock it off.  We need to introduce our new lady to the office.” 

Pam noticed that Andrea cast another look at Jim, who again gave her the warm smile that Pam had seen so many times herself – only, she’d never seen him give that smile to anyone but her.   

She stood then, going into the kitchen to make some tea, convinced that her imagination was working overtime; she couldn’t possibly be picking up the level of intimacy between Jim and Andrea that she thought she was.  There was just no way.

“Hey.” She whirled around at the sound of his voice, finding him standing just inside the door as it closed behind him.  

“Hey.” She gave him a faltering smile, not sure what to say or do, how to act, wondering if he – like herself – was trying desperately not to remember the awful conversation they’d had the last time they’d been in this room alone together.

So she said, “Andrea seems nice.” 

His eyes flicked away from hers for a split second, then he nodded. “Yeah, she is; she’s really great.” 

Pam felt a lump rising in her throat, but she forced herself to swallow over it, raising her eyes to scan his face.  It was just incredible to be standing there looking at him again, and he looked so amazingly…good to her.  Had he gotten somehow better looking over those months that he’d been away?  Like, he’d always been cute, but now it was as if he were suddenly all man….devastating, sexy. 

“Listen,” He pursed his lips, then looked at her deliberately, cautiously. “Obviously, we’re going to be working together again, and I just…. Well I just wanted you to know that it doesn’t have to be awkward – I mean, as far as I’m concerned, all that stuff is in the past.” 

He tried to ignore the fact that it cut him to the bone to have dismissed the depth of what he felt for her and the significance of the fact that they’d kissed as “all that stuff.” 

His words sent a pain right through her, starting in her chest and spreading slowly to the pit of her stomach, settling there as a heavy ache.  She didn’t know what she was supposed to say to that.  She wanted to say a thousand things: Why? It doesn’t have to be in the past. I’m sorry I was so stupid – don’t forget. Love me again, please.  Because I’m in love with you, and I know that now; I’m not afraid to admit it now. 

But she couldn’t say those things, because he was looking at her steadily, almost expectantly.  All she managed to say was a hesitant, “Are you sure?” 

He didn’t know what to make of the question.  Was she asking him because she wanted him to be sure…or because she was hoping that he wasn’t? He told himself that it didn’t matter anymore. 

So he nodded, then said, “Yes.” He took a breath, then added, “You were right before.” 

“I was?” That ache low in the pit of her stomach was starting to throb dully.  

He nodded, then forced himself to say, “Yeah.  That we have to forget it all, forget any of it ever happened if we’re going to…work together and move past this.” 

It was as if karma were punishing her for devastating him that horrible day when they’d stood in this very room, and she’d said those same words to him.  Now she knew how he’d felt, and the feeling was awful – bitterness, regret, absolute despair overwhelming her for a second. 

“You okay?” He asked, his head cocked to the side.  For a second, it was just like the way it once had been – him looking out for her, picking up on the subtleties, caring that she seemed upset.  

“Yeah, I’m fine.  Just….” She shrugged, then forced herself to smile at him. “This is just a little weird.” 

“I know.” He nodded, then gave her what looked like a genuine smile. “But it’s okay now, really; it doesn’t have to stay awkward.  Slate’s clean now, right?” 

She wasn’t sure what that meant – was he suggesting that they could start over? She hoped so; god, she hoped so.  In any case, she knew that the best way to work toward doing just that would be to re-establish their connection, to somehow slip back into the way that they used to be, because it had taken them down the path to more than that before….so surely it would again.  She was convinced of it, in fact; as she stood there staring up at him, musing again at how damned good-looking he was, she found herself feeling reassured by the conviction that this was meant to be. 

He’d tried to put distance between them, but fate had brought him back to her.  This was going to work out. 

So she smiled back at him, feeling that old familiar warmth settling in as she said, “Yes, slate’s clean.” 

He paused, their eyes meeting for a split second before he looked away quickly.  Then he tapped the doorframe lightly with his palm, gave her one last smile, and said affectionately, “All right, Beesley.” 

And with that, he was gone.  She stood there watching him go for a minute, lost in thought.  He couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when he sat down at his desk, unpacking the things he’d packed away when he’d left months earlier, minus the keepsakes he’d once had that reminded him of her: the medal from their Office Olympics, a lone dove from the same day, a cartoon she’d drawn of Dwight…..   

So that conversation had gone better than he’d expected; at first, she’d looked at him with such….longing, was it?  Regret? Bitterness?  He couldn’t be sure, but when he’d told her the slate was clean, he was sure he saw relief settle over her features.  He found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, this could work out; maybe they could find their way back to being good friends again. 

It didn’t matter that seeing her face again had made him feel physically weak; it didn’t matter that she was wearing his favorite pink blouse, the one that brought the same color to her cheeks that she usually got when she was laughing at something he’d said.  It didn’t matter that, in that brief moment when he’d dared to look her in the eyes, images pervaded his mind of her in his arms that night, lips pressed on his.  It didn’t matter that that kiss didn’t seem like enough, that he felt himself drawn to her again.  

“Hey.” He turned, finding Andi smiling up at him. 

 “Oh hey….. So, Michael introduced you to everyone?” He asked, aware that Pam was returning to her desk.  

“Mmm-hmmm.” She nodded, then leaned toward him and whispered, “What’s with that Creed guy?”  

Jim laughed, shaking his head, then said, “I honestly don’t know.” 

They grinned at each other, and when she held the gaze too long, he quickly turned away.  They’d talked that morning about keeping their relationship quiet; all Jim had had to do was tell her that Michael would insist that they disclose their “consensual sexual relationship” to Toby, and she’d agreed wholeheartedly that mum was the word.  At first, though, she’d teased him about going public with it, as she put it, just for the sheer sport of actually doing such a thing.  

“Sounds good to me.  How would we go about that?” She’d asked, then launched into the scene.  “’Excuse me – it’s Toby, right?  Yes, well, my name is Andrea Rochester, and I wanted to state – for the record – that I am, in fact, engaged in a consensual sexual relationship with Jim Halpert – who, by the way, is fucking incredible in bed!’”  

She’d laughed at him when he blushed, shaking his head at the image she presented.  He told himself that the reason he wanted to keep things quiet was so that they’d be spared the mortification of talking about their sex life to Toby, but he knew on some level that he was also protecting Pam.  He really didn’t want her to know about Andi just yet, and he wasn’t exactly sure why.  After all, she probably wouldn’t even care, right?  

He didn’t see much of Andi after that, as Michael had given her the desk next to Kelly’s because it was the only one available.  He could hear Kelly chattering to her all the way out at his desk, and he smiled softly to himself, thinking that he couldn’t wait to get her impressions of Kelly.  He felt sorry for her, truly, but it was also very, very funny. 

“Hey Jim.” Kevin appeared beside him, grinning at him as if he had a naughty secret. 

“Hey, Kev, what’s up?” He asked, thinking for a split second that it was kind of good to be back in a way; he’d missed these people….even Dwight, who had been glaring at him suspiciously all morning.  

“She’s hot.” Kevin said, smiling broadly.  

“Who is?” Jim asked, his mind blanking for a second. 

“That girl you brought back with you.” Kevin answered, then added a long, protracted, “Niicccee.”  

Jim nodded, unable to say anything to that, very aware that Pam’s eyes were on him, that she was listening to the whole exchange. 

Michael had interrupted them then, coming up to clap Jim heartily on the shoulders as he said, “So dude, you’re letting me take you out to lunch today, right?  I mean, first day back and all!” 

“I really appreciate it, Michael, but I’ve got a lot of---“ 

Michael interrupted him, and Jim saw his eyes flick to the camera for a second as he said, “Come on Jim, we used to be close, remember?  Remember when we went to Hooters that time, and we talked about the –“ 

“You know what?” Jim interrupted him, casting a glance at the camera himself, then at Pam before he answered, “Yes, yes, let’s do that.  Definitely.” 

“Good deal.” Michael winked at him, pointing his hand as if it were a gun and clicking his gums before he turned and went into his office. 

Pam was giggling at her desk, and Jim glanced up, shaking his head at her.  She was hoping he’d come up, lean on the counter like he used to, but he didn’t.  She told herself that he was just busy, that he had a lot of catching up to do, which was understandable.  The important thing was that she could look across that counter any time and see his face instead of that horrifically empty chair.  She knew she’d never take him for granted again. 

When it was time for lunch, Andi came out from the back, stopping at Jim’s desk, her eyebrows raised, smiling at him.  “So do we do ham and cheese in this break room, too?” 

He smiled back at her, and he could’ve sworn that Pam was listening. “Yes, actually, usually it’s a ritual, but today….  Well, today Michael wants to take me out to lunch – you know, to sort of celebrate the first day back and all.” 

“Ah, I see.” She nodded, then gave him a knowing smile, leaning down to whisper, “Hooters again?” 

He laughed, but his laughter sounded too loud to his own ears; he’d glanced at Pam out of the corner of his eye, catching a fleeting look on her face – jealousy?  Shock?  

“Probably, actually.” He smiled at Andi, then Michael appeared. 

“Ready?” 

“Ready.” Jim gave her a last smile, then followed Michael out the door.  Andi laughed as she heard Michael asking him, “So hey, let’s tell the waitress we’re brothers again….” 

She looked around for a second, then cautiously stepped up to Pam’s desk.   

“So….can we eat lunch together?” Andi asked, then giggled. “I feel like the loser new kid on the playground or something.” 

Pam smiled at her, finding her comment endearing, feeling incredibly curious about her, then said, “Sure, yeah, we can eat together.  Has anybody shown you the kitchen and the break room yet?” 

“No, actually….”  Andi followed her in, and within ten minutes, they were seated side-by-side at the table, eating their lunch and chatting.  

“So how long have you worked here?” Andi asked her. 

“Um….about three and a half – no, close to four years now.” Pam answered, then laughed, “Time stands still around here.” 

“Yeah, it did at our branch, too.” Andi told her, then added, “Although I have to say, between Dwight, Michael, and Creed, I think you guys have the market cornered on the weirdest men in the office.  We only had Glenn, who was nothing compared to those guys; now I know what Jim has been warning me about.”

Pam forced a smile, tried to look nonchalant at the mention of Jim’s name, then said in her most casual tone, “So you and Jim seem close…...” 

“Yeah, we are.” Andi nodded, taking a sip of her drink.  “I’m the one that showed him around the office, helped train him, that sort of thing.  And we became friends really quickly; he’s just the sweetest guy.” 

She was aware that Pam was staring at her, eyes searching her face, and for a second, Andi was afraid she’d said too much, so she added with a wave of her hands, “What am I saying? You’ve known him longer than I have!  You know what I mean.” 

Pam nodded, “Yeah, Jim’s…a great guy.” 

Andi nodded. “He is.”  And then, again feeling the need to overcompensate for what she worried had been a dead giveaway that she was dating him, she added, “He’s listened to me moan about my ex-boyfriend more than once.” 

“Oh?” Pam asked, relief starting to settle in.  So that’s what it is….  She’s still hung up on her old boyfriend, and Jim’s just a sounding board.   

“Yeah.” Andi nodded. “It’s nice to get a male perspective sometimes, you know?”

“Definitely.” Pam agreed enthusiastically, thinking she really did like this Andi girl after all. 

“So are you dating anybody?” Andi asked, eager to turn the conversation off of her own love life.

“No, I’m…single.” It still felt weird to say those words.  She was suddenly aware that Andi was watching her, her eyes scanning Pam’s face. 

Then she said softly, “I’m sorry….I didn’t mean to pry.” 

“No, it’s okay.” Pam shook her head. “It’s just…. Well, I was engaged to a guy who…. Anyway, we broke the engagement a while back.” 

“I’m really sorry.” Andi said, and she genuinely meant it.  Something struck her as almost haunted about Pam, but at the same time, she clearly picked up that Pam was an inherently kind person, a good person.

“No, it’s okay.” Pam shrugged, then remembered the roses Roy had sent that morning.  For some reason, she felt overwhelmed for a second at the way her life had changed so drastically; before she could stop them, tears had welled in her eyes. 

“Oh my god, Pam, I’m so sorry.” Andi saw the tears and reached out to touch Pam’s arm.  “Really…. I’m sorry I brought it up.” 

“No, it’s okay.” Pam shook her head, running the edge of her hand beneath her lashes to catch the tears as she laughed. “I’m really okay with it; I think it’s that I haven’t really had anybody to talk to about it…well, other than my mom.”

 Andi nodded, again touched at what she’d said. “I understand, believe me.  I just left my best friend back in Stamford, so I was already feeling a little anxious about not having a girlfriend to hang out with.  And definitely now, having seen some of the men in this office –“ Andi gave an exaggerated shudder – “I’m more convinced than ever that I need to make a good friend here.” 

What she said again made Pam feel relieved – partly because she genuinely liked the girl already, and partly because what Andi had said just confirmed for Pam that apparently, she wasn’t as close to Jim as Pam had originally thought; otherwise, why would she have said she needed to make a good friend?  

“Well…count me in.” Pam smiled at her, and they exchanged another little laugh.

Then Andi leaned forward and asked conspiratorially, “So what’s with Angela?” 

The rest of the day had gone quickly enough.  Pam teased Jim when he came back from lunch with Michael, asking why he hadn’t brought back a tee-shirt for her.   

Out of habit, Jim cocked an eyebrow and retorted, “Oh, trust me, Beesley – Michael’s got the whole outfit for you out in his car, orange shorts and all.” 

She’d blushed, them murmured, “You’re horrible,” loving it when he took a jelly bean just like he used to….back before he’d told her he was in love with her, before they’d both shed tears in front of each other, before she had known the heady feeling of his lips on hers. 

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged, then, “Hey, you started it. That’s all I’m saying….” 

She almost felt as if she were soaring for the remainder of the afternoon.  Jim was back – he was back!  And it seemed as if they were settling right into their old routine, which was wonderful.  She could be patient, could give him time to get comfortable again.  After all, it was the least she could do, when he’d been patient with her for so long.

And Andi – for as wary as Pam had been of her at first, she was really happy to have her there after they’d had such a great talk at lunch.  She didn’t have many close girlfriends herself – most of them had fallen away over the years as she’d focused her attention on Roy – but it seemed right somehow that she’d make a new friend now, now that she was on her own and doing things the way that she always should have. 

She sensed that she and Andi had a lot in common already, just from their brief lunch together. Almost as nice as the prospect of a new friend was the relief she’d felt when she’d realized that she’d apparently overestimated Andi’s relationship with Jim; knowing that Andi had talked with Jim about her old boyfriend was such a relief to Pam’s mind, because it told her that obviously, Andi just didn’t think of Jim in anything other than a platonic way.  Pam couldn’t fathom how she wouldn’t, but then, she had to remind herself that not everybody was in love with Jim…only she herself was.

At the very end of the day while Pam was in the supply room re-stocking the shelves, Jim heard the doors open and close.  He glanced up casually and then did a double take when he heard a familiar voice call out in surprise, “Halpert…. Hey, man, I thought you transferred.”

Jim couldn’t speak at first.  Roy was the last person he’d expected to walk through that door, it was true, but he was also caught off guard at how different Roy looked.  He’d lost weight and had a beard now, one that was well-trimmed; he was carrying his gray uniform shirt under his arm, wearing a tight-fitting black tee-shirt instead.  Even to Jim’s untrained eye, he had to admit that Roy looked great – fit, handsome. 

He tried to ignore the fact that he felt a little threatened. 

“Yeah, I….um….” He began, but he was saved an explanation by the gasp he heard from behind his desk. He turned to find Pam standing there, seeming frozen, clutching a box of manilla folders in her hands as she stared at Roy, looking absolutely shocked.  Jim was confused for a second – he’d seen the roses, had assumed they were from Roy, so why was she looking so stunned? 

“Roy….” Her voice was hoarse as she forced herself to start walking again, aware that Jim was watching her closely.  She couldn’t believe the sight of him – he looked incredible, had actually taken her breath away when she’d first lain eyes on him.   

“Hey, Pam.” His voice was subdued, his smile tentative, almost shy; she was reminded for a moment of the expression he’d worn after their first kiss so many years ago.   She kept putting one foot in front of the other, painfully aware of the fact that this was a very public reunion, and wishing desperately that it weren’t. 

“You look….great.” She said, then added, “You’ve lost weight….” 

“Yeah, a little.” He looked down at the floor for a minute, then gave her a wry grin, reminding her of how much she’d always loved his dimples. “Haven’t had much of an appetite these past few months.” 

She didn’t know what to say, so she just stood there, his eyes meeting hers for a long moment.  It was positively surreal, because he seemed so different, like a new man almost.  Could he have changed that much in all of five, six weeks, she wondered? 

“You got the roses, I see.” He nodded toward the huge vase that sat on her desk.  

“Yes, I…thanks.” She smiled at him, still finding it a little difficult to pull her eyes from his face, because it was so familiar, yet so changed….so unexpectedly devastating.

 “I meant what I wrote on the card, Pam.” His voice was low, but she knew in her gut that Jim had heard him, that Jim was listening to the whole exchange.

“Roy – “ 

“No, Pam.” He shook his head. “I’ll wait for as long as I have to.” 

Jim couldn't help but raise his eyes to look at Pam, not daring to lift his head. So he's trying to win her back.... He heard the rustle of the cameraman’s equipment and felt annoyed, knowing that the guy was zooming in to get a shot of the expression on his face.  

Pam didn’t know what to say to Roy's comment, then he surprised her, asking, “So would you be willing to go to dinner with me tonight?” 

She opened her mouth to answer, but then she saw Andi appear around the corner.  Their eyes met, and Jim watched as Andi’s eyes fell to Roy, then back to Pam, her eyebrows raising as if to say, Is that him….? 

So Pam cleared her throat and said, “Roy, this is one of our new co-workers, Andrea.  She’s from the Stamford branch.” 

Jim felt like he was caught in some bizarro alternate universe as he watched Andi shake Roy’s hand, looking dwarfed beside him.  He hoped she wouldn’t hear his name and put two-and-two together, because even though he hadn’t told her Pam’s name when they’d talked about it all, he had mentioned Roy’s.  But thankfully, his name didn’t seem to register with her.   

“Nice to meet you,” Andi told him.  Jim could’ve sworn that he saw a knowing glance pass between Andi and Pam.  He shook his head, thinking, This day could not possibly get any weirder.

And then, as if to prove him wrong, Pam said suddenly, “I can’t have dinner tonight, Roy; I’m…having dinner with Andi.  You know, showing her around, helping her get acclimated.” 

Jim had to struggle not to jerk his head up, forced himself to sit there very still, though he couldn’t keep his eyebrows from raising.   

“Oh, okay.  That’s good, actually; that’s nice.” Roy nodded, and an awkward silence fell, then he leaned down toward Pam, kissing her gently on the cheek before he whispered, “Just think about what I said.” 

Then he stood to his full height, giving Andi a smile as he said, “It was nice to meet you.”  Just as he reached the door, he turned and called, “Hey Halpert – good to see you again, man.” 

“Yeah, you, too.” Jim felt like an ass as he waved halfheartedly at Roy. 

As soon as the door closed behind Roy, Andi leaned over toward Pam’s desk, Pam leaning to meet her halfway, their heads almost touching as Andi whispered, “Oh my god, was that the ex-fiancé?” 

Jim couldn’t believe his ears for a second – how did she know Pam had an ex-fiancé? Had they bonded over lunch?  He realized suddenly that they must have, and for a second, he felt panic seize him at the thought that Andi might’ve told Pam the truth about their relationship.

“Yes, that was him.” Pam whispered back.  

“Wow, Pam….he’s really gorgeous.” Jim heard Andi whisper. 

He felt a surge of jealousy seize him, but it was irrational and he knew it. For a second, he almost expected Roy to burst back into the room, camera crew behind him, all of them smiling and pointing at Jim, calling out, “Hey – you’re on Candid Camera!”  

If only….. He thought. Every day was like Candid Camera around here.  

Then he heard Pam say, “I know; he looks really…amazing. I hadn’t seen him in about six weeks, and he’s lost a lot of weight.  And the beard is new, too….” Her voice trailed off. 

“Are you okay?” Andi asked her, and Jim had to resist the urge to stand up and physically drag Andi away from the desk.  No, no, no, no…. This is not a good idea.  They can like each other, sure, but they cannot become friends.  And they absolutely cannot whisper about how hot Roy is looking; this just…. What the hell is happening here?  

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Pam nodded at her, then, “And hey, you totally don’t have to have dinner with me; I just said that to get out of it, because he kind of put me on the spot there….” 

“No, I’d love to grab some dinner – if you would.” Andi said, looking shy for a second as Jim bit his lip to keep from springing out of his chair and yelling, in a manner worthy of Michael Scott, “Okay, okay!  That’s enough with the girl talk!  Off you go, back to your desk – hey, why don’t you make friends with Kelly!  That’d be a swell idea!” 

Of course he didn’t, though he wasn’t sure he’d rule it out as a possibility if this continued.   

“You know, that sounds like a great idea.” Pam said. “I know just where we can go.  Do you like Italian food?” 

“Are you kidding?” Andi asked, then they both laughed again.   

Jim stood, going into the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee, praying that Andi would follow him so he could ask her if she’d told Pam what was going on.  Not knowing was killing him, and the fact that they were suddenly so chummy unnerved him beyond belief. 

He turned anxiously when he heard the kitchen door open and close, but as luck would have it (his luck, anyway, he reasoned), it wasn’t Andi but Pam who stood behind him.  She smiled at him, moving to rinse her cup out in the sink. 

“So, you and Andi have dinner plans…?” He asked her.

She smiled, sensing that he was prodding her, searching for something, and she assumed he wanted her to confirm that no, she was not having dinner with Roy.   

“Yeah, we are.” She smiled up at him.  “She’s really a nice girl, Jim; it’s so great to have a….normal girl my age in the office to talk to.” 

“Well…” Jim smiled, not sure of exactly what to say to that.  He was getting the impression that Pam didn’t have any idea what was going on, and he felt relieved, but not entirely.  There was something else he needed to know. 

“So….” He watched her face carefully. “Roy looks different.” 

“I know.” She shook her head. “I hadn’t seen him in, like, six weeks or something.  I had no idea he had….”  

Her voice trailed off, her eyes staring off for a second.  Again Jim felt that pang of jealousy, then dismissed it as habit, nothing more. 

“You okay?” He asked her. “What?  Yes, I’m okay.” She nodded, then gave him another smile before she went out the door, almost bumping into Andi on her way out.  Jim heard them laugh, then heard Andi whisper something to Pam, which caused Pam to throw her head back and laugh harder as she went back to her desk.  

Andi waited for the door to close behind her, then murmured to him as she passed by on her way to the fridge, “I don’t know about you, but I’m having the hardest time keeping my hands off of you today.  There’s something about this being a secret office romance that seems terribly illicit.”  

“Hey, whoa….shhh.” He immediately looked around anxiously. “Remember, I told you that the cameramen are like…Ninjas.”  

She giggled at him, then whispered, “Fine. Then I’ll settle for showing you tonight just how much this is all driving me crazy.” 

“Fair enough.” He whispered back, ignoring the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that something seemed very wrong, out of place.  

Then, in a normal voice, he asked, “So hey, are you really going to dinner with Pam?” 

“Yeah, I was thinking I’d really like that….” Her voice trailed off, and she looked up at him, raising her eyebrows as if to add, if you wouldn’t mind…. 

He immediately shook his head, then said, “Good, that sounds like a great idea.  You can…get to know her and all that…..” 

“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you joined us.” Andi told him, and Jim struggled to maintain a normal expression.  He was a little shocked that Andi hadn’t picked up on anything yet between he and Pam.  And it wasn’t so much that he wanted to keep it from her, as much as it was that he just desperately didn’t want to fall back into it all again….and he knew that if he told Andi the truth about his history with Pam, he’d be forced to delve into it.   

“Nah – but thanks, though.” He smiled at her, opening the door and giving her a last smile before he returned to his desk.

Pam had a blast with Andi that night, sitting in the restaurant and drinking entirely too much wine as they talked, so they had to sit even longer, picking at bread after dinner so that they would be okay to drive home.  Andi was so easy to talk to, and Pam envied her the fact that she seemed amazingly comfortable in her own skin.  Two guys at the bar had sent over drinks, and Andi had deftly sent the waiter away, instructing him, “No thanks.  Tell those guys that if we were here to be picked up, we’d be sitting at the bar, okay?”           

Pam was impressed with her spunk, and she told her so.  Andi just laughed and waved her hand, prompting Pam to giggle.  They talked for a long time about Roy, and Pam explained a little of their history – how they’d gotten together too young, how he’d drifted into indifference, taking her for granted until slowly the smaller things he’d missed became bigger and bigger until she realized he didn’t even know who she was anymore.  

Andi, in turn, opened up about Shannon, her ex-boyfriend, who had been an aspiring (emphasis on the word “aspiring”) actor and had been incredibly inconsistent, moody….frustratingly ambivalent.  She left out her last encounter with him, the one that had landed her in Jim’s bed, because she figured it’d be best to play it safe, though she really felt like she could trust Pam with the secret.  But Jim had been fairly adamant that they not tell anyone, so she had to honor that agreement.  

Pam, in turn, found herself tempted – incredibly tempted – to talk to Andi about Jim, to confess their past; she really wanted to ask Andi if Jim had said anything about her, but she didn’t.  After all, it wouldn’t be fair to Jim to share that with someone they both worked with; besides, he was friends with Andi, too.              So she didn’t say anything and was, in fact, careful not to mention Jim again. 

 But they weren’t lacking for conversation, and before Pam knew it, it was eleven o’clock.            

 “Oh my god!  I didn’t realize it was so late; I’ve got to get home, or I’ll be dead at work tomorrow.” She giggled, then, “Well, more dead than usual.”  

 “Tell me about it.” Andi rolled her eyes.           

“Hey,” Pam asked suddenly.  “Where are you staying?  Have you found an apartment yet?”           

“I have, but my stuff’s in transit.  I’m staying at a hotel until Wednesday.” Andi explained, averting her eyes. It was a lie; she was actually staying with Jim.           

 “Oh, okay.  Well listen, I guess I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” Pam smiled, then added, “This was really great; I needed it.”           

“Me, too.” Andi said, then smiled and waved as Pam went to get in her car.                        

Jim was all but pacing the floor when he finally heard her knock on his door.   

“Finally!” He exclaimed, swinging open the door.  She took what he’d said to mean that he’d missed her, so she immediately threw her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his.

 “God,” She whispered against his lips, moving to kick her heels off. “I’ve been dying to do this all day.” 

“Wait….” He was trying to pull back, to ask how her evening went, but she wouldn’t hear it. 

“Mmm-mmm.  No more waiting.  Tired of waiting – I’ve been waiting all day.” She murmured, her lips lowering to his neck.  He tilted his head back despite himself, trying to keep his head clear. 

“Did you have a nice dinner?” He asked her, unable to stop himself. 

“It was great.” She answered, reaching with one hand to unzip her skirt, letting it fall to the floor.  Before Jim could even respond, she’d pulled her shirt off over her head, throwing it unceremoniously on the floor beside her.  She smiled when she saw that slightly glazed look in his eye. 

“So are you just going to stand there, Halpert, or are you going to make love to me?” Her voice was low, almost a purr; it always drove him out of his mind when she used that tone.  

He wasn’t sure why he felt strange when he slowly walked toward her, backing her against the wall, feeling her press her body close to his as her fingers began unbuttoning his shirt.  Didn’t know why, even though he wanted her so much that he moaned when her fingers unzipped his pants, he felt out of his element, like he was hovering above watching himself with her instead of actively participating in it.  Couldn’t have explained how, when he heard her scream his name, nails clawing at his back, something didn’t seem right, even as he himself shuddered a few minutes later, feeling his whole body tense, then relax.  

He couldn’t have articulated it until afterward, when she was lying with her head on his chest, both of them sticky and damp with sweat: guilt, that’s what it was, as if he were betraying someone.  ________________________________________________________________________               

“Attention everyone!” Michael stood in the middle of the office, chin tilted toward the ceiling, a look on his face like that of an excited five-year old who’s planning a trip to the zoo.  He’d made them all gather around, had even called the warehouse guys up.  Jim noticed that Roy 2.0 (his private nickname, couldn’t help it) had immediately sought Pam’s eyes, but she had pretended not to see, so he gave up and sat between Daryl and Lonnie.  But his eyes didn’t leave Pam’s face for the duration of the time that Michael spoke, which caught Jim off guard;  he wasn’t used to seeing Roy look at her that way…the way that he himself always had.  It seemed that losing Pam had been what it took to convince Roy what an incredible woman she was. 

Jim didn’t care to think about the likelihood that Roy might win her back.

 “In honor of our defeat of the Stamford branch –“

“Whoa, defeat?” Jim couldn’t help but interrupt him, exchanging a smile with Andi, who was standing off by the fake fichus tree, Toby just behind her.  

“Yes, Jim, defeat.” Michael looked annoyed, then gestured with his hands as if Jim had asked a stupid question.  “Hello, we’re still open; they’re not….?” 

“I see.” Jim nodded. “I’m sorry.” 

“Thank you.” Michael told him, Dwight crossing his arms, nodding self-righteously at Jim.  “As I was saying – in honor of our defeating the Stamford branch, I’ve scheduled our annual camaraderie event a few weeks ahead of schedule this year.” 

He was greeted with silence, with the exception of a few groans.  “Hey, come on!” He exclaimed, somewhere between a whine and a plea. “Wasn’t the Booze Cruise fun?   Meredith – “ He pointed at her. “You had fun on the Booze Cruise, didn’t you?” 

Meredith was nodding emphatically, then a better idea seemed to dawn on Michael, as he pointed at Pam and said, “Hey!  Pam, you almost got married on the Booze Cruise, you and Roy!” 

Neither Roy nor Pam spoke as Michael gestured from one to the other of them; Roy’s eyes didn’t leave Pam’s face as she lowered her head, looking at her desk. 

Jim bowed his head, jaw tensing, unable to stop himself.  It didn’t matter that she wasn’t engaged to Roy anymore; it didn’t matter that he was in a relationship with a woman who was crazy about him, a woman who knew just what to do to drive him crazy.  He still couldn’t bear to think about that night, to think about those interminable moments of silence on the deck when he’d come so close to just telling her how he felt.  He couldn’t help but wonder if things would be different somehow now if he had. It doesn’t matter anymore, he told himself. It was becoming his new mantra, something he’d had to remind himself of more times than he cared to consider in the three weeks he’d been back. 

He and Pam had slowly, slowly inched their way back toward some semblance of what they’d once been, at least in the sense that they exchanged wisecracks on a daily basis.  But the warmth, the closeness he’d once felt with her….  He couldn’t have articulated it, because it wasn’t that those things weren’t there anymore; it was that he was keeping them at bay, afraid to really let her in, for fear things would spiral out of control.  And he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he could not handle that again.   

Michael’s voice broke through his thoughts as he announced that he’d reserved some banquet hall for them, complete with a DJ and a karaoke machine.  When no one really responded, he added, “Hey, it’s got a dance floor!  ….And it’s private – no Captain Jack bossing us around!  What do you say?” 

Dwight, of course, leapt to his feet and slapped a high five with Michael, exclaiming, “Yeah!”  

“Who else is with me?” Michael asked, then, “Darryl?  You with me?” 

Daryl raised an eyebrow and simply shook his head.  Every time Jim was in the same room with Daryl, it occurred to him that Daryl was sort of his hero. Then Daryl had said in his wonderfully sardonic tone, “As long as it’s not in my warehouse, Michael, it’s good with me.” 

“Dikin’flicka, my man.” Michael said, holding his hand out toward Daryl, his fingers curled in a fist.  Jim watched in amusement and something akin to awe as Daryl went through the motions of an elaborate handshake with Michael, and as Jim realized that Daryl was doing nothing other than making an ass of Michael, he thought to himself again, Yes, Daryl is my hero.

In the end, it didn’t matter what anyone thought or what anyone wanted; of course they all stood in the banquet hall two weeks later, looking around at the sad streamers that hung from the ceiling, balloons that were half out of helium already in pitiful little bunches in each corner.  The party planning committee had been in charge of the decorations, and since Michael had forced Ryan to be the head of it, Jim couldn’t help but wonder if Ryan had made it look pathetic on purpose. 

But there was a hardwood floor and a nice little stage, complete with karaoke machine; there were little round tables scattered around the edges of the stage, and a makeshift bar in one corner.   When they all arrived and Michael made his official welcome speech, he announced that the karaoke machine was “very old” and that it had come with cds – only two of them.   

“So the selections you have to choose from tonight are….” He paused, and as if on cue, Dwight made a ridiculous drum roll sound.  “From one of two excellent greatest hits cds: Either Cyndi Lauper or Hall & Oates!” 

There was a murmur among them all: Dwight looked thrilled, and so did Kevin; Kelly looked quite happy herself, while Ryan looked as mortified as he always did.  Michael had brought Carol as his date, and she smiled up at him, a soft expression on her face as winked at her.

 “Is he serious?” Andi whispered to Jim, glancing up at him. 

He nodded, a wide grin on his face. “Oh yes, he’s serious.” 

“Hmmm.” She said, then gave him a mischievous smile, adding, “I know just what song I’m gonna do!” 

“What?” He was a little caught off guard; he hadn’t realized she’d actually want to join in.   

“You just wait.” Then she added under her breath, “And just know that my performance will be all for you.” 

He gave her a tight-lipped smile just as Pam approached them, looking a little nervous.  Jim suspected it was because this was their first out of the office function since he’d been back….and Roy was here, too. 

She took a seat on the other side of Andi, and Jim felt himself very aware of her presence, pretending with all he had that this was all just fine, completely normal.  They were distracted for a while as Dwight took the stage to do his best “Maneater” rendition, and when Pam glanced across the room at Angela, she noticed a small, perverse smile pulled at Angela’s lips.  Ew, she thought.  She didn’t even want to know.   

Phyllis was next, putting her heart into “True Colors,” then it was Kevin’s turn, as he managed to belt out without changing his monotone, “Kiss on my List.” 

“This is actually damned good entertainment.” Andi said, prompting Pam to giggle while Jim smiled.  

“Who’d have thought, right?” He asked, then a silence fell that was painful for he and Pam…not so much for Andi. 

As if she could sense it, Pam asked, “Hey, do you guys want something to drink?” 

“Yeah, actually – you know what?” Andi stood. “I’ll go with you; you can’t carry three drinks.” 

“Thanks.” Pam gave Jim a tight-lipped smile, then turned away , walking to the bar with Andi. 

She thought it strange that Andi ordered him a gin and tonic without even asking, but before she could really contemplate it, Andi asked, “Hey, do you like appletinis?” 

“I’ve never had one.” Pam answered, prompting Andi’s eyes to widen. 

“Ohh, they are the best drink on the planet!” She exclaimed, and Pam laughed. 

“Then I’ll have to try one.” She smiled, watching as Andi took the drink for Jim, then her own.  Pam waited for the bartender to slide her drink across the counter, then they headed back to the table where Jim was waiting, eyebrows raised a little, chin in his hand as he watched Oscar singing, “Time After Time.” 

When Pam and Andi came back, he murmured a quick thanks as Andi handed him his gin and tonic, then noticed with surprise what Pam was drinking.   

Just to have something to say, he grinned and commented, “Ah, so I see she’s corrupted you, Beesley.” Pam looked at him in surprise, and he wondered what it was he’d said to make her get that expression.  “I mean,” He stammered, “I’ve never seen you drink an appletini before, and that’s…well, that’s all that Andi will drink.” 

“Oh.” Pam nodded, hoping he wouldn’t notice that her eyes were narrowing in spite of herself.  How did he know what Andi’s drink preference was?   

Michael interrupted her thoughts then, calling out suddenly, “Jim!”  He was up on the stage, gesturing wildly at Jim, saying, “Hey, let’s do another duet together!” 

“Oh no….” Jim shook his head, then added, “I’m not really….” 

“Oh come on.” Andi nudged him, and he looked down at her in surprise.

“What?” He asked her, wishing she wouldn’t give him that look when Pam was sitting so close, when all eyes were on them. 

“I know you like karaoke,” She told him, adding, “And Michael looks so excited up there.”  

He was aware that Pam’s eyebrows raised slightly, and to ward off any other questions, he shook his head and trudged his way to the stage, reluctantly standing next to Michael, who had already cued up the machine. 

“I want to sing this one for Carol.” He whispered in Jim’s ear, and Jim nodded, feeling sorry for him for a brief instant because Michael was terribly serious and every bit sincere.   

Jim was only vaguely familiar with the song, but the tune came back to him as he scanned the lyrics quickly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes when Michael handed him the “Karaoke this!  Hall & Oates edition” CD sleeve, insisting that he read the lyrics. 

“You start first.” Michael told him as the music started.  Jim immediately protested. “Why do I have to….? It’s your thing.”

He shook his head, wondering how in the hell he had ended up on that stage in the first place.  Then, looking out at the sea of faces clustered in front of him, his eyes rested on Pam and Andi, and suddenly, he realized he’d have sung, “It’s Raining Men” if it meant he wouldn’t have to be anywhere near those two as they sat next to each other chattering and giggling.  It was just more than he could take.  

Michael’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “You have to sing the first part, because the second part is just for Carol.  She’ll know it – she told me the other day that she just never wants to get old.” 

Jim looked at him blankly, then Michael whispered fiercely, “’I don’t want to be wise/ I just want to stay young…’?”  

Jim’s eyebrow raised, and Michael groaned, saying, “Never mind.  Go!  Go! You’re supposed to be singing now!” Jim found himself thinking that never again would he participate in karaoke, no matter how awkward the circumstance or how pitiful the host.  But he was there now, so he had to just suck it up and do it, which is exactly what he did.  

They met on the dance floor of the old high school gym

He felt like a rock

She kinda liked him

And his heart beat like thunder as they moved across the floor

When the music was over, she slipped out of his arms

And out of the door 

Now a man loves a woman, but he can’t understand

why she’s sad when she stares at the ring on her hand

or she sits in some club where the long shadows fall

drops a coin in the jukebox, not the phone on the wall 

Pam sat next to Andi feeling rooted to her chair, unable to move, unable to even muster the kind of enthusiasm that Andi was; she was waving her arms, whooping at Jim and Michael, mockingly assuming the air of a delirious teenager.  

But nothing about this was striking Pam as even remotely funny.  First of all, he had a better voice than she’d anticipated he would; apparently ”Islands in the Stream” hadn’t been enough to do him justice. Or maybe it wasn’t that he had a great voice so much as it was the way those lyrics hit her hard in the stomach.   

She glanced around, her eyes catching Roy’s as he leaned against the wall next to Daryl, sipping whiskey slowly from a highball glass.  He wasn’t looking at Jim, didn’t appear to be listening to what Daryl was saying; he was looking at Pam. 

She swallowed hard, grateful when Michael joined Jim on the chorus, the two of them together ridiculously off key – so much so that she knew she should’ve been laughing hysterically like Andi and the others around her were….but she couldn’t tear her eyes from Jim, aware that what he was singing, trite as it was, echoed all too true.  Did he realize it, too?

Jim couldn’t believe the irony, never would’ve imagined that he should be wary of a Hall & Oates song because it might be too emotional; he had been picturing having to sing something along the lines of “Private Eyes,” something light and stupid.  He’d never have thought he’d get stuck singing a song whose lyrics were so painfully direct, agonizingly ironic.  In fact, he would’ve stopped and refused to go on if he weren’t so hyperaware of Andi’s eyes on him, laughing delightedly while Pam sat next to her looking stony and terrified.  

So close yet so far away

We believe in tomorrow but we’re stuck in today

We’re living so close, but so far away

There’s a restless look in your eye tonight

There’s a secret hurt in my heart

And the dream that pulls us together, girl

Is the dream that’s gonna tear us apart

There’s a restless look in your eye tonight

Are you looking for some way out of here?

I see you looking

We’ve got to fight to keep it together

For the dream that keeps us so closeyet so far away

Who would’ve thought, girl, that we’d end up this way?

Living so close but so far away 

When they were finished, they were greeted with cheers – from an exuberant Andi, a drunken Meredith, a sweet Phyllis, and a warehouse guy that he couldn’t quite place, the one who knew how to mew exactly like a goat.  He’d have laughed if he wasn’t so hurt by the haunted look on Pam’s face, her eyes never leaving his as he was up there doing his best to make it through that fucking song. 

The stage somehow had provided him with a safe buffer, so he’d dared to hold her eyes longer than he had in all the weeks he’d been back, though he knew it was a mistake….especially when he’d had to actually sing the words, “Who would’ve thought, girl, that we’d end up this way?” It was too much, too painful, but as soon as he’d sung the line, “There’s a secret hurt in my heart,” he’d been unable to look away from her, feeling her eyes almost burning into his.  

He gladly relinquished the microphone to Kelly, who was all too eager to launch into a version of “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” that was worthy of Betty Boop.  Her eyes hadn’t left Ryan the whole time, as he looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. 

Jim was waiting at the makeshift bar for a drink when suddenly Andi materialized beside him. 

“So you’ve been holding out on me, I see.” She grinned up at him as he ordered a gin and tonic. 

“How so?” He asked, feeling a momentary panic shoot down his spine.  Had Pam told her something….? 

But she was smiling as she told him, “You’ve really got a nice voice.” 

She was looking up at him, that smile on her face speaking volumes, and he had to look away, still not quite ready to face her just yet.  But when he really thought about it, he was more ready to talk to her than to Pam.  

So he forced himself to laugh and say, “Right. Yeah, I can really pull it out on the Hall & Oates, but I tell you, I’m waiting for the Cyndi Lauper stuff to get started.  That’s where I’ll truly shine.” 

She burst out laughing as he smiled down at her, reminding himself that he was lucky to have her, that she was an incredible girl….that she was so obviously crazy about him, that she’d never wavered, never asked him to pretend his feelings didn’t really exist. 

And then she’d suddenly said, “So, I’m up next – remember: It’s all for you!” 

With that she was gone, moving to stand just beside the stage, waiting in the wings for Kelly to finish.  He glanced around, his eyes somehow finding Pam  -- of course immediately settling on her as she stood in a corner looking upset, Roy standing in front of her, his body language indicating that he was pleading with her about something. 

Then Andi’s voice had caught his attention.  “Okay, so I hear this is a naughty one, but….what the hell?  I’ll do it anyway.”

She gave a mischievous grin as Michael started the music. As the music started, Meredith screamed out from the crowd, “Hell yeah!” 

Jim jerked his head in surprise, pursing his lips and raising his eyebrows as Andi started singing the opening lines to “She Bop.”  He wondered briefly why in the hell she’d said that song could possibly be all for him. He smiled, shaking his head a little, then, very much aware of Pam and Roy in his peripheral vision, he tossed back his first drink. 

Then he turned back to the bartender, signaling for another gin and tonic as Kevin sidled up to the bar.

 “Hey Kev, how’s it going?” He asked mechanically, not really caring.   

“She is so hot.” Kevin said, nodding toward the stage as Jim wondered if he were, in fact, like one of those dolls with the string that you pull, only capable of saying a few phrases: “She is so hot.”  “Niiicceeee.”  

Jim just nodded, then Kevin leaned toward him, asking, “Do you know what this song is about?” 

“No, Kev, can’t say that I do.” He responded, scanning Kevin’s face and wondering if he was drunk.  No, he appeared totally sober….which was actually kind of sad, Jim realized. 

“It’s about masturbation.” Kevin told him, his smile widening as he added, “Girls masturbating.” 

Jim’s eyebrows rose in surprise.  “Thanks for the heads up, Kev.” 

Kevin nodded, then repeated, “She is so hot.”  But then he added, “I bet she’s freaky in bed.” 

Jim pursed his lips, tilted his head to the side.  Suddenly this conversation had gotten a little too uncomfortable for him, so he gave Kevin a quick nod, then moved away, going to sit at their table front of the stage to watch Andi, who was eliciting many a whoop from both the guys and the girls in the crowd.  He had to admit that she was good; she was sexy, at ease with her body in a way that showed on stage.  He tried to remind himself that he was a lucky man, realizing that her eyes were on him, giving him her best come hither look. 

It struck him as odd that, even though she was center stage and obviously moving just for him, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Pam, who was now walking quickly away from Roy.  Roy looked defeated for a second, then Jim saw him head for a bar, where he ordered some sort of shot, which he immediately downed, then signaled for another. 

He forced himself to turn his attention back to the stage, laughing right out loud when Andi sang, “They say that a stitch in time saves nine / They say I’d better stop / or I’ll go blind” giving Kevin a knowing wink. 

Yeah, he thought. She’s an amazing, amazing girl…. 

“Hey.” Pam’s voice made him jump a little as she sat down next to him. 

“Hey.” He smiled at her nervously, then, “You okay?” 

She nodded, but she didn’t speak, her eyes moving to Andi, who gave her a big grin and a nod of recognition. “Wow, she’s really good.” Pam looked caught off guard and genuinely impressed.  

Jim nodded, but before he could say anything, Andi’s eyes had rested on him – very obviously so – and she’d given a seductive twist of her hips as she sang, “Hey they say I better get a chaperone / because I can’t stop messin’ with the danger zone / No I won’t worry, and I won’t fret / Ain’t no law against it yet….”   

Jim felt his eyebrows raise in spite of himself, his lips pursing, wishing that Andi wasn’t giving him that look while she moved on stage, the look that so clearly said, I want you; wishing that  he couldn’t feel Pam’s eyes on his face, gauging his reaction….wishing that he could just crawl under the table and die.  

Thank god the damned song was over soon, and Andi came to slide into her chair next to Pam, breathing heavily, as Pam said, “You were really good!  You look like you’ve done this before.”

Andi grinned. “Yeah, I did it a lot in college.  I love karaoke.  Hey, you and I should do a duet!” 

Pam immediately shook her head as Jim’s eyes lowered to the table.  He absently traced rings around the bottom of his glass as he thought, Please god, don’t make me have to watch the two of them on stage together…. 

“No, not me….” Pam started to say something else, but then her attention turned back to the stage, as she saw with a deep sinking feeling in her chest that Roy was up there clutching the microphone drunkenly.  Oh no, please no, she thought.  How bad could it be?  He’s got Cyndi Lauper and Hall & Oates to choose from, and surely the one Jim had to do was the worst.   

“I think everybody knows….” Roy began, his words slurred as Pam’s head lowered.  Jim’s eyes flicked to her, and he felt helpless for a second, like maybe he should do something – but what?  “Everybody knows who this is for.”

And then he pointed drunkenly in the direction of Pam’s table, but his finger landed more toward Jim than Pam.  Jim would’ve cracked a joke if he weren’t so damned afraid of what was about to happen, because clearly, this was bound to be a train wreck of epic proportions.   

As he waited for the music to begin, he searched madly in his memory through all the Hall & Oates songs he could remember, trying to figure out if there was possibly one that could make things even more uncomfortable – and then he remembered the overly mournful, almost bluesy, “She’s Gone.” Oh god, he thought, Please no. 

He took a deep breath, glancing again at Pam, whose head was bowed now as if she, too, were bracing herself.  When a string of somewhat upbeat notes rang out, clearly signifying that Roy was not, in fact, going to be singing “She’s Gone,” Jim actually let out a sigh of relief, thinking, well thank god for the little things.

But Roy did the best with what he had to work with, looking right at Pam as he sang:  

Say it isn’t so painful to tell me that you’re dissatisfied

The last time I asked you, I really got a lame excuse

I know that you lied

Now wicked things can happen…. 

Jim wasn’t the only one watching Pam; Andi leaned over to her and asked, “You okay?” 

Pam nodded, then smiled suddenly, her expression looking almost frozen, like one of those clowns that’s supposed to be funny but seems more grotesque and creepy than anything. 

“This is just….such a horribly awful idea.  It’s just –“ She shook her head, unable to continue.  She and Jim exchanged a quick, uncomfortable smile, then their attention turned back to the stage, drawn, as it were, to the train wreck that was unfolding.  

Roy’s voice was pleading now, and Jim thought with a pang of disgust that it didn’t seem fair somehow that the guy could suddenly have lost weight and become all good-looking and sensitive in the span of a few months.  

Tell me what you want yeah I’ll do it baby

I promise right now

Who propped you up when you were stopped

low motivation had you on the ground

I know your first reactionYou slide away, hide away goodbye

But if there’s a doubt

baby I can give out a thousand reasons why

You have to say it isn’t so…..

 He was gesturing openly now at Pam, his hands clenched in supplication while everyone watched, some fascinated, some amused.  Angela, in particular, seemed unable to look away from Roy, and for a second, Jim could’ve sworn he saw absolute adoration in her eyes, while Dwight sat next to her shaking his head in disapproval.  

Jim was still a little stunned that he was having to sit here and witness this, feeling like he should do something or say something, but again, what?  He found himself debating silently whether or not this was worse than the Booze Cruise, and he concluded that no, at least it wasn’t as bad as the Booze Cruise, because as painful as this was, at least Roy wasn’t setting a wedding date….and at least Pam wasn’t gazing up at him in adoration, but was instead looking at the table as if she wanted to disappear.   

In fact, as Jim stole a glance at her, she seemed to be trying not to even look at Roy, struggling to pretend that he wasn’t up on that stage doing his damnedest to serenade her with a freaking Hall & Oates song.  Jim was suddenly aware that this whole scenario had tremendous comedic potential….but given the circumstances, it struck him as anything but funny.   

After a few minutes, he decided that a drink was definitely in order – for all of them; Pam was looking horrified, seemingly unable to turn her eyes from the stage, while Andi was looking more shocked and just a tad bemused, glancing from Roy to Pam and back again.

So he leaned toward Andi, asking if she’d like another appletini; Andi nodded, then he asked Pam, who couldn’t hear him over Roy’s warbling, holding a hand to hear ear as she almost shouted “What?” 

So he leaned even closer across the table, his head nearing Pam’s as he asked, “Do you want me to get you a drink?” 

At just about that time, Roy’s voice got noticeably louder, prompting Jim and Pam to pull back, looking at the stage fearfully. 

Jim watched in horror as Roy actually pointed drunkenly at them as he sang, “And if I’m faced with being replaced / I want you even more / You have to say it isn’t so….” 

At that, Jim stood, shoving his chair back and heading to the bar without saying another word.  He knew that in an alternate universe, this would be very, very funny…but it so was anything but at that moment. 

“Wow, he’s really drunk.” Andi commented at Pam, who nodded absently.  

“Apparently.” She murmured, taking her drink gratefully from Jim when he returned.   

Thankfully, there were no more mishaps, aside from a brief skirmish when Meredith, at the conclusion of her rendition of “I Drove All Night,” took her shirt off and swung it around over her head.   

As they all stood in the parking lot saying their goodbyes, Andi reached out to touch Pam’s arm as she asked, “Hey, do you want me to come over and hang out for a while?  I mean, that got pretty….intense for a while.” 

Pam smiled gratefully at her. “No, that’s okay; you’re so sweet to offer, but I really think I just need to get to bed and get some sleep.” 

Andi nodded, then leaned over to hug Pam, saying in her ear, “It’ll get easier, you know.” 

Pam gave her a squeeze as they pulled back, and Jim suddenly felt terribly awkward as he realized that Andi was looking at him almost expectantly, as if he, too, should hug Pam.  

He hesitated, but then, afraid to draw too much attention to how incredibly uncomfortable he was, he leaned forward and gamely put his arms around Pam, feeling something deep in his stomach harden at the familiar scent of her hair.  He tried to tell himself that it didn’t mean anything, that it was just out of habit that his heart started to pound just at the way she smelled, that he found himself wanting to just stand there with her in his arms all night….that suddenly, it occurred to him as he was holding her that he felt for the first time in months that he was home, where he belonged. 

Pam’s arms went around his neck, her face on his chest for a second, and in spite of herself, tears welled up in her eyes.  She missed him so fucking much – and it was the worst kind of ache because he was right there, every day, and yet there was such a distance between them that she had no idea how to breech.  And now that she was in his arms, breathing in his scent – clean, masculine, spicy, familiar – she felt desperate all of a sudden. 

She wanted so much with him that she almost couldn’t breathe, worried that if he tried to let go, she’d stumble and fall, collapse in a sobbing heap on the asphalt.

So she pulled back quickly, turning away without meeting Andi or Jim’s eyes, hoping neither of them would see the tears as she waved, scurrying off to her car.   

“Meet you at your place?” Andi asked, looking up at Jim expectantly. 

He really didn’t want company; he wanted more than anything to be alone because he was still reeling from the feeling of having Pam in his arms, but he nodded, saying, “Sure.” 

They talked for a long time that night as they lay in bed, and he felt himself stiffen when Andi brought up Pam. “I’m telling you, Jim, there’s something absolutely….haunted about her.” She shook her head, deep in thought. “I can’t put my finger on it.” 

Jim’s jaw tensed as he desperately hoped she’d stop talking.  He didn’t want to hear Andi go on about how haunted Pam was, because of course Andi was right…..only he knew full well why Pam was haunted, and he was beginning to suspect more and more that it had less to do with Roy and everything to do with him.  

“I can’t figure it out, either.” Andi continued. “I don’t get the sense that she’s still in love with that guy she was engaged to – what’s his name – but there’s something in her that seems to be almost…. I don’t know, grieving? Like she’s lost someone that she loves so much, and it’s eating away at her.  But that doesn’t make sense, because if she feels that way about him, why not take him back?  He obviously wants her.” 

“Excuse me for a second – I’ll be right back.” Jim leapt to his feet, making his way quickly to the bathroom, where he leaned heavily on the sink, bowing his head, hearing Andi’s words in his mind: There’s something in her that seems to be almost…. I don’t know, grieving? Like she’s lost someone that she loves so much, and it’s eating away at her.… 

It occurred to him as he looked at his reflection in the mirror – tie askew, hair tousled, eyes red – that she could well have been describing him when she said those words.   

When you try your best but you don't succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse

When the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
and ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

High up above or down below
when you're too in love to let it go
If you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth

Lights will guide you home
and ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face and I

Tears stream down your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face and I

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

-- Coldplay, "Fix You"

Pam cried on the way home that night, her breath coming in deep, ragged gasps.  The whole night had just seemed like a nightmare – having to sit there and try to look normal while Jim sang that fucking heartbreaking song….. She’d never forget the look on his face when he sang, “There’s a restless look in your eye tonight / There’s a secret hurt in my heart.” 

And the last line was too painful in its irony: “Who would’ve thought, girl, that we’d end up this way?  Living so close but so far away.”           

She knew it had hurt him, too; she knew it, could see it all over his face, in his eyes because he didn’t move them from her face for the duration of that line.  And it was just too much. When she’d gotten up from the table, needing to escape Andi (envying Andi for being able to watch Jim up there and find him amusing instead of feeling like she was drowning because of how in love with him she was, but how helpless she felt – because that was what it had been like for Pam), Roy had cornered her.  

“Did you hear that babe?” He’d asked, those blue eyes burning into hers as he stared at her with a drunken intensity.

“Hear what?” She’d asked warily, raising a trembling hand to her forehead and praying he wasn’t going to accuse her of having feelings for Jim. 

“What he was singing – those words….oh my god.” He had shaken his head. “The beginning of that song, man… It’s just…us.”  

“Roy—“ 

“No, Pam…. I just…” There were tears standing out in his eyes as he’d asked, words slurring a bit, “Why can’t you love me again?  Why?  What’s changed so much?  I’d – I just…. I’d do anything to have you back.” 

She’d had to turn away from him, unable to bear the expression on his face.  Then the paralyzing thought occurred to her: What if nothing ever changes? What if we’re stuck in this purgatory forever – Roy looking at me with his heart in his eyes, begging me to come back; Jim trying not to look at me, keeping that invisible wall between us….me feeling daily like I’m just drowning and can’t even come up for air because I can’t find my way out of this darkness…?  

It occurred to her then that she was beginning to fully understand what the past three and a half years had been like for Jim.  She wondered how he’d even stood it, because it hadn’t been more than a month, and already she felt that desperation closing in on her.   

They all hadn’t even recovered from Michael’s Annual Camaraderie event when he announced that it was time again for the Dundies.  As they ate lunch in the break room that afternoon, Pam tried to explain to Andi what the Dundies were, exactly, because they hadn’t observed that particular tradition at the Stamford branch. 

As Jim sat listening to Pam, he couldn’t help but remember the Dundies the year before, when Pam had gotten incredibly drunk, had stunned him by kissing him, had wanted to ask him an important question at the end of the night, but seemed to lose her nerve.   

He wished sometimes that he could just erase all of the memories he had of Pam, of the two of them, of how things had once been.   

Because he was happy with Andi; he really, really was.  But he was finding it more and more difficult to be around Pam without succumbing to those old feelings, and it seemed that the harder he tried to pretend they weren’t there, the more he failed.  

What also made it difficult for him was the fact that he could sense Pam’s eyes on him all the time now when he wasn’t looking.  He could have sworn on more than one occasion that she was dangerously close to saying something to him – what, he couldn’t have been sure.  Only he recognized that longing in her eyes, and he tried desperately not to see it. 

He kept telling himself that he could not take steps backward, that it would be unfair and cruel to Andi if he even tried to sort things out with Pam – to really be honest with himself, with her – and aside from that, he had seen the way Pam looked at Roy sometimes now.  She obviously wasn’t entirely over him, and maybe she never would be. 

Jim certainly knew what that felt like. 

He was also feeling himself wrestling with guilt more and more of late, as Andi grew closer to Pam and started to spend time with her outside of work.   

She’d startled him a few weeks earlier, asking, “Hey, would you mind if I told Pam?” 

“Told Pam what?” He asked, knowing full well what but needing to buy some time, to stall and get his thoughts together. 

“You know,” She gave him a small smile. “If I told her about us.” 

“Oh, I don’t think that’d be a good idea---“ He immediately started to shake his head. 

“Why not?” Andi asked. “You know she’s trustworthy; she wouldn’t tell anyone if I asked her not to.” 

“I know, but….” He shook his head, then shrugged. “It might make things weird…for us, for all three of us.” 

Andi was silent for a minute, then nodded slowly. “Okay, yeah, I see what you mean.  I wouldn’t want her to feel like a third wheel, like she couldn’t hang out with us anymore at work and stuff; you’re right.” 

He tried not to breathe a sigh of relief, but he already felt the guilt stealing over him.  On some level, he knew that he should be honest with Andi, to tell her about his history with Pam because she had a right to know.   

Or did she?  It was all in the past, he told himself, so it didn’t matter anymore.  Why make an issue of it when it just wasn’t one?  Aside from that, Pam didn’t seem too eager to tell her either, so maybe Pam just didn’t want her to know.  Or maybe Pam was really struggling, as he was, to leave it all in the past.  What right did he have to dredge that up again, to tell Andi, who would certainly want to talk to Pam about it?  

And so he kept his silence, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that this might well just blow up in his face.    

As Pam sat at the table next to Andi and Jim, she found it hard to believe that the last Dundies ceremony had been just a year ago.  It seemed like a lifetime had passed since then.  She’d gotten so drunk that night that she only remembered snatches of what happened: stealing drinks from other people’s tables; giggling loudly at Michael’s bad jokes; whooping at the top of her lungs at the end of her acceptance speech; throwing herself into Jim’s arms, planting a kiss on his lips right in front of everyone….  She remembered, too, the way he’d hovered close to her all night, knowing she was drunk and keeping a close eye on her.   

Jim had teased her this year when they’d had to hold the Dundies at the same private banquet hall where they had held the Camaraderie Event a few weeks earlier.

 “Man, Beesley….” He shook his head at her. “I’d forgotten about the whole banned-for-life-from-Chili’s thing.” 

“I hate you.” She’d retorted, and he’d smiled sweetly at her in return, taking a jellybean from the dispenser on her desk.   

In moments like those, she pretended to herself that things hadn’t gone so horribly wrong, that there was still a chance. She was feeling hopeful that night as she sat beside Andi, Jim across from her, because she couldn’t help but think about the year before, when she’d wanted so desperately to ask him a question….  Even though she’d been in a drunken stupor, that question had still been burning in her mind the next morning: If I weren’t with Roy, would you want to be with me? 

But now she wasn’t bound by Roy anymore, even though he sat at a table across the room, his eyes following her every movement.   

All night as Michael handed out award after award, she found herself feeling that hope building slowly within her.  Maybe it was the fact that she was on her third appletini, but she didn’t think so; all of a sudden, things seemed to be sliding into focus for her with a startling clarity. She was just going to have to confront Jim, show as much backbone as he had all those months ago.  She’d just have to look him in the eye and say those same words he’d said: “I’m in love with you.” 

Because he felt it, too; she was certain that she could see it all over him, especially at moments like these, when he’d had a few drinks, and his defenses seemed to be weakened.   He couldn’t meet her eyes squarely for very long, but it didn’t matter; she could feel his eyes on her when she wasn’t looking.  He still loved her; she knew it, knew it with a conviction that would have startled her if it hadn’t come as such a relief.  He was just afraid, and with good reason; she still couldn’t stand to think of what she’d done to him before – how he’d told her he was in love with her and she’d responded with a mechanical, “I can’t.” 

No.  She was going to make up for that tonight.  Because he needed her; he loved her, and he still wanted her, but he was just too afraid. She’d show him tonight that he had nothing to fear from her. 

She found it difficult to sit still knowing that she was finally going to put an end to this hell as soon as the ceremony was over.  She wished Michael would hurry up and get through all those stupid awards; it was all she could do not to ask Jim to step outside with her. She gazed across the table at him, taking in his handsome profile as he watched Michael drone on and allowed herself to fantasize for a second about what it might be like when she finally told him, when she at last said the words: “I’m in love with you.” 

He’d kiss her, surely; the very thought made her feel a little weak.  Those kisses on Casino Night had been chaste, but incredibly sexy somehow, as if he’d had to kiss her gently, hesitantly, for fear of losing control altogether; she’d known immediately that his trepidation masked a heat that matched her own.  And the feel of his lips on hers had been positively intoxicating; she’d been shocked at her immediate response, at the sudden urgency she’d felt.  She wanted more of him, wanted all of him.    

Pam had been staring at him all night, and it was starting to make him nervous, because she wasn’t even trying to hide it.  Every time he looked up, those eyes were on his face; sometimes she smiled, and sometimes she just continued to stare at him, something pleading in her eyes.  He knew she’d had a lot to drink – so had Andi – and he wondered if maybe that was it.  This bartender’s version of a gin and tonic had almost made him cough on his first sip, barely able to detect any tonic, so he figured their appletinis were probably equally heavy on the vodka. 

Again he was reminded of the year before, when she’d gotten so drunk.  He’d never forget the shock, the tingle that went down his spine when she’d so exuberantly hurled herself in his arms, pressing her lips to his.  And the look on her face out in that parking lot – so intense, almost hungry, as if there were something she desperately needed to say, to know.   

“Wow.” Andi’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he turned to look at her, smiling at the flush on her cheeks as she exclaimed, “This drink is STRONG!” 

What she’d said sent Pam into a fit of giggles, Andi joining in as Jim watched them both, feeling a little helpless for a second as he realized that they were tipsy – no, actually, Andi was certifiably drunk, and Pam was well on her way to getting there. 

“You know what?” He said suddenly, pushing back his chair and standing to his feet. 

“What?” They’d asked in unison, which sent them into more giggles, and Pam suddenly pointed at Andi, exclaiming, “Jinx!  Buy me a Coke.” 

Jim had stiffened, remembering that day a lifetime ago and feeling her eyes wander to his as she said softly, “Never mind…”  

“I’m going to go get you guys a couple of Cokes; I think some caffeine might do you good.” He shook his head when they both nodded, each of them trying to appear sober and failing miserably, dissolving into another fit of laughter as he walked away. 

“How sweet is he?” Andi asked, leaning heavily on her elbow.  

Pam nodded enthusiastically, taking a sip of her appletini.  “He really is a great guy.  The best.” 

She contemplated for a second telling Andi the full truth about her and Jim, decided that maybe it was time to come clean, but before she could, Andi gave a naughty giggle, leaning conspiratorially toward Pam, and saying in a loud whisper, “You’d think that a guy who is that sweet wouldn’t be as fucking unbelievable in bed as he is, but Jesus….” 

Pam pulled back, staring at her, blinking in shock, feeling sick for a second, thinking that surely she’d misheard her, or maybe Andi was just kidding. “What?” She asked, feeling herself start to tremble all over. 

Andi winced, smacking her hand drunkenly against her forehead, then said, “Oh my god…. I forgot that you didn’t know.” 

“Didn’t know what?” Pam could barely breathe, her heart pounding in her ears. 

“Well, it’s….” Andi clearly had no idea what she was doing to Pam as she smiled, then whispered, “Jim and I are…together.” 

“How….?” Pam couldn’t even form the question, then forced herself to. “How long….?” 

“A while…since before the transfer.” Andi told her, her attention turning to the stage as Michael announced her name for having won the Best Newcomer award. 

Pam rose to her feet, feeling stunned and sick, worried for a second that she might throw up.  She blindly stumbled across the floor, not sure where she was going, just that she needed to keep moving, to keep walking, had to get out of there.  The tears had already started to roll down her cheeks at the implications of what Andi had told her.  She kept her head down as she quickened her steps, almost running. And then she’d smacked right into someone’s chest, raising her tear-stained face to see Jim – of course, Jim – staring down at her. 

When he saw the look on her face, his expression changed, and he asked, gentle hands on her arms to steady her, “Oh my god, Pam….what’s wrong?  What happened?” 

She stared at him for a few seconds, trying to make herself believe that she’d been wrong about him all this time – he wasn’t a good guy.  How could he be and do something like this?  

All she managed to do was shake her head, then try to shove past him.  But he held her arm gently, saying, “Hey, what’s –“ 

She yanked her arm away, eyes wild, hissing, “Get away from me!”  

She turned then and ran toward the door, and without a second thought, Jim followed her, running after her out into the parking lot.  His legs were much longer than hers, so he easily caught up to her, again taking her arm.  She was sobbing now and tried to wrench away again, but he wouldn’t let her. 

He held her gently by both arms, trying to steady her, feeling tears well in his own eyes just at the sight of her like this – she was crying so hard she couldn’t breathe, her hands shaking horribly as she tried to wipe the tears off her cheeks, her head shaking back and forth as she refused to look at him. 

“Please, Pam….” His voice was hoarse.  “You’ve got to talk to me.  What happened?” 

It took her a few minutes to find her voice, and when she did, she looked him full in the face, her chin trembling, then asked, “How could you do this to me?” 

“What?” He shook his head, not sure of what she was talking about, but he was feeling desperate now, willing to do anything to make that grief-stricken expression leave her face.  

She shook her head again, choking on a sob as she asked, “What….  Were you just making fun of me all this time?”  

“Pam….” He shook his head, still not quite sure what she was talking about. “I don’t understand what you’re –“ 

“Don’t do that – don’t….!” Her voice was growing louder, and finally, she screamed, “You’re fucking sleeping with her!  How could you…?” 

And then she turned away, sobbing again, and he felt his stomach drop to his feet.  “Pam….” 

“Stop!” She spun to face him, still trembling, a hand covering her mouth. “Don’t you say my name!  Stop now!” 

He stared at her helplessly, his jaw tensing.  He couldn’t believe he’d not seen this coming.  He thought regretfully that he’d have never touched Andi if he would have even suspected Pam would be this devastated.  He’d never seen her look this way before, and it was killing him. 

“I’m so sorry….” He whispered, swallowing hard, hoping he wouldn’t cry.  She turned away again, standing with her back to him, her shoulders shaking as she cried.  There was so much he wanted to say, but he felt frozen, stunned by the depth of her sorrow, sickened by the force of his own.  

Then he heard her voice, small and quivering, “Why would she do this to me?  I thought she was my friend, and I….  And you – you were my best friend but I….  Why would you do this to me?” 

“Pam, you have to believe me….” He reached out, gently touching her shoulder.  He was relieved when she didn’t shove him away again, so he moved to stand in front of her.  She couldn’t even look at him, just stood there wracked with sobs, that ineffectual hand over her mouth, as if she could somehow keep the tears from coming.  

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered, and then, unable to stop himself, he felt the tears come as he added, “I’m so…fucking sorry; I’d do anything to fix this.” 

“I want you to leave me alone.” She murmured, her voice muffled. “Just….go, go away.” 

“I can’t do that.” He said, shaking his head, wiping a tear impatiently off his cheek.  “Don’t ask me to do that.” 

For some reason this infuriated her; before he knew it, she’d raised a hand and slapped his face, then she instantly cringed, pulling back and raising her hand again as if to touch his cheek, to caress the side of his face she’d hit.  But she didn’t; her hand froze there just beside his cheek, trembling visibly. Clearly, she was horrified that she’d actually struck him, and he could see the conflicting emotions on her face as she grew angry again.  

“Please just leave me alone.” She whispered again, closing her eyes.   

“I can’t.” His voice caught on a sob as he shook his head, unsure of what to do, unable to move, to make himself stop crying.   

She looked up at him again, her eyes huge, watery, looking like a heartbroken little girl.  He saw her take in his face, saw her mouth twitch when another tear rolled down his cheek, as she clearly struggled to come to terms with what she’d found out, with his reaction.

“I never expected this from you.” Her voice was low, tight, and he winced, closing his eyes.  “Never from you.” Her voice broke on the word you.  

“Pam ---“ He opened his eyes, and she was backing up, holding up a hand, warding him off.  “Please don’t….”

He tried to call after her, but she shook her head.  

And then suddenly Roy was there, pushing open the doors, striding toward Pam with a look of alarm on his face.  Jim watched as Roy pulled her into his arms, unable to make himself turn away even when she laid her head on Roy’s chest, curling her hands into fists on his shoulders, sobbing against him as his lips passed over her hair. 

“Babe, what happened?  What’s wrong?” Roy was close to panicking, trying to pull back and look at her face, but she wouldn’t let go of him, just clung to him miserably, unable to stop crying. 

“Just take me home.” Her voice was muffled in his chest. “Take me home, please.” 

“Pam-“ 

“Just please,” She wailed, her voice louder now. “Please get me out of here.”

 “Okay, okay, shh….” He held her for a second, startled; he hadn’t seen her this upset since the day she’d postponed their wedding that last time. She was grateful to Roy for being so great, for keeping his arm around her while she leaned heavily against him as they walked toward his truck. 

As they rounded the corner to the back parking lot, she saw Jim standing in the distance, and she tried not to look at him.  Roy helped her into the passenger’s seat, shutting the door behind her once she was inside.  Only then did she dare to raise her eyes to where Jim stood, and he was watching them.  His eyes met Pam’s for a second, and she could see that there were tears on his cheeks, but she forced herself to look away as she started to cry again.

 “Hey….” Roy had climbed into the driver’s side, leaning over and touching her cheek gently.  “Babe, what is it?  Can you talk to me now?” 

She shook her head, whispered, “Just drive.  I don’t want to….” 

He nodded, cranking the engine, putting the truck in reverse.  She was grateful that Roy didn’t seem to have noticed Jim standing off to the side, out of his range of sight….and she thought bitterly that she was glad Jim had seen her leave with Roy.   

“Where do you want to go?  To your place?” He asked, his voice interrupting her thoughts. 

“No.” She shook her head; she didn’t want to go to her apartment now.  She wanted to go home with Roy, to the house she’d once lived in with him…. She just needed to cling to the familiar right now, because what she’d found out about Jim and Andi seemed to shake the very foundation of her life; she found herself questioning everything – Jim, herself…. How could she have been so wrong about him?  

“I want to go back….” She couldn’t finish, and she saw Roy’s jaw tense briefly.

“Home?” He asked quietly.  She nodded, tears trickling down again, feeling his hand reach over and gently take her own.  

She had calmed down by the time they got there, and once inside, they sat next to one another on the couch, Roy having brought her a glass of water and a box of tissues, leaning back to look at her closely.  

“Can you tell me what’s wrong now?” His voice was so gentle, and the look on his face reminded her of the way Jim looked at her. She felt a wave of nausea.  Jim had been misleading her all this time, and…. 

She shook her head, closing her eyes and trying to block out the images of Jim kissing Andi, of him touching her…. But she couldn’t; it was as if the images, so vivid and tangible, were burned there, almost as though she’d witnessed them together with her own eyes.  

When she opened her eyes, Roy was watching her closely, looking so concerned, an intensity in his eyes she hadn’t ever noticed before.  She touched his cheek, noticing how much leaner his face was now, partly from the weight he’d lost, but partly because of the beard.   

Jim had touched Andi everywhere with those hands; he’d kissed her, made love to her.   

She shook her head again to try to make the words and the images they brought with them to just disappear, but they wouldn’t go away. So she leaned forward suddenly and pressed her lips to Roy’s. She heard his breath catch, felt his hands on her face as he kissed her back, his lips familiar but new all at the same time, the beard tickling her face.  

It didn’t matter that Jim had made love to Andi god knows how many times, didn’t matter that all this time when she’d believed they were making their way back to one another, he was really keeping this secret with someone else, her friend….. 

She shifted toward Roy, moving to climb onto his lap, straddling him, lips not leaving his.  He pulled back, breathing heavily, staring up at her for a minute. 

“Pam….?” He asked, aware that she’d been drinking; aware, too, that she was obviously upset about something.

 “No.” She shook her head, lips on his neck as her hands unbuttoned his shirt. “I don’t want to talk.  Don’t make me talk.” 

“Okay, but –“ She silenced him, her lips pressing on his again, running her hands on his bare chest, loving how lean he felt now.   

Andi had done this with Jim, had probably run her hands all over his bare chest, knew sides of him now that Pam had never gotten to see, to discover. 

She impatiently pushed Roy’s shirt off his shoulders, pausing to pull her own shirt off over her head, throwing it to the floor carelessly, the moving back to reach for the snap on his jeans.  She wanted him now, needed him to touch her now, needed him to be inside her, to just make her mind stop racing…. 

He was caught off guard at her impatience, her intensity; she’d never touched him with such an urgency before, and there was a tiny part of him that felt a little afraid, because he knew she was upset, knew that this may well have nothing to do with him. 

But he didn’t want to believe that, so he told himself that this sudden passion was indicative of the fact that she had been missing him as much as he’d been missing her all those months…. 

She, too, was pretending the same thing; she told herself that’s what drove her to impatiently clutch as his back, pretended as she fell back on the bed, feeling his weight on top of her, that she was making love to him because she wanted to, because it was right, because he was the only man she’d ever been with, the only one she could trust….not because she needed Roy’s touch to somehow erase for her those images of Jim and Andi.  

As she lay next to him afterward, a lone tear trickled down her cheek, sliding down her neck and pooling in the hollow of her clavicle.  She closed her eyes with the realization that those images just wouldn’t go away.    

____________________________________________________________________________

“Hey.” Jim touched Andi on the shoulder as she sat watching Stanley accept his Even Finer Work award.  

“Oh hey, I was wondering where you guys were.  Where’s Pam?” She glanced behind Jim.  

“She left with Roy.” Jim answered gruffly, swallowing hard, then, “Come on.  I need to take you home.” 

“What?” She looked caught off guard, then seemed to really see him for the first time, noticing his red eyes, his tense jaw.  “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Come on.” 

“But it’s not –“ 

“Please, Andi.” He couldn’t look her in the eye.  Then he added, “You’re not okay to drive yourself, so just let me get you home.” 

She nodded, standing and putting her purse over her shoulder, wondering why he wasn’t trying to be more discreet about the fact that they were leaving together, wondering why he looked so miserable, so serious. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” She asked him, eyes narrowing.  But recognized the glaze there, and he was glad she was just drunk enough to put off until tomorrow. 

“I’m really tired.” He answered.  She nodded, seemed satisfied with that answer. 

He wondered how she’d told Pam, wondered if she was even aware of what she’d done to Pam in telling her. …wondered how the hell he would ever make things right with Pam.  

He dropped Andi off at her place, despite her protests, telling her that she needed to get some rest and so did he.  He promised to call her the next day, feeling something shift in his stomach when she leaned in the window to kiss him goodnight.   

Once he’d made it back to his apartment, he went inside and stood in front of the sliding glass doors that led out to his balcony, just standing there staring out at the night for so long that his back and legs started to ache. 

He’d never forget the sight of her sobbing like that; he’d never get over the fact that it was his fault she’d been so devastated.  When he tried to re-trace his steps, tried to figure out how he’d made such a fucking mess of his life – and hers, apparently – he just couldn’t figure out where he’d gone wrong. She’d rejected him, so he’d tried to move on, had tried to go somewhere else and start over.  He had started over with Andi, had been happy; it wasn’t his fault that he got transferred back. 

Should he have told Pam immediately that he and Andi were seeing each other?  It just hadn’t seemed like a good idea, ever.   How could he have known that they would become friends?  It had been so unexpected, really. 

And now Pam was feeling betrayed, not just by him but by Andi as well.  Andi, who had no idea that anything was even going on at all.  Jim knew that she’d feel betrayed, too, and he knew that she’d have every right to feel that way.  

He never went to bed that night, just finally moved to sit in a chair in his living room, one hand over his eyes as he tried to erase the image of her standing in front of him, head in her hands, shaking all over as she sobbed.  

Andi swung open her apartment door to find Jim standing there wearing a pair of faded jeans and an untucked button down shirt, his usually tousled hair even more so, stubble covering his jaw. 

“What happened to you?” She asked, opening the door wider and gesturing for him to come inside.  He didn’t answer her, just came in and sat next to her on the sofa, having no idea what he was going to say, only knowing that he had to try to fix this somehow. 

“Jim…?” She asked, her eyes narrowing as a look of concern settled over her features. 

“I need to…talk to you about something.” He told her.  

“Okay….” Her voice was cautious. 

“I….” He dropped his head, eyes on his hands as he said softly. “It’s – Pam.” 

“What about Pam?” Andi asked, then, “Is she okay?” 

“Yes – well, no.  It’s….” He shook his head in frustration, then, still avoiding her eyes: “Pam’s the one.” 

“What are you talking about?” She genuinely seemed confused.  

“She’s….” He took in a deep breath. “She’s the girl I told you about before.” 

“Wait….” Andi held up a hand, drew back in confusion. “I thought that girl got married.” 

“No, she broke it off.” His voice was hoarse. Andi fell back against the sofa, looking shocked and more than a little hurt as she tried to make sense of what he was telling her.   

“I don’t understand….  If she broke off the engagement, then why didn’t you two just….give things a try?  I mean, if Roy wasn’t a factor anymore….”  It hurt her to ask him – he could hear it in her voice – but he knew she was confused, that she was just trying to make sense of it. He couldn’t answer her question, didn’t know how to answer her because it hurt too fucking much to even contemplate the question.  

“Wow.” Andi said softly.  He raised his eyes to her face, watching helplessly as the reality seemed to settle over her.  “So all this time, you wanted to keep the fact that we were dating from Pam because….” 

“Andi, it wasn’t….” He took a breath. “It wasn’t just because I didn’t want Pam to know.  I mean, that was part of it, but….it was every bit as much that I thought it’d be better for you and me if we kept it quiet because we work together.” 

She seemed faraway, lost in thought.  

“Andi….?” He asked. 

Then she turned her eyes to his, and he was startled to see the tears welled there as she whispered, “You’re the one that haunts her, aren’t you?” 

He felt a lump rise in his throat, wishing she hadn’t put it that way.  “Andi, listen….”

He began, but she shook her head, the tears falling to wet her cheeks.  He could not believe he’d made such a fucking mess of everything, that he’d made the two women he cared about most in the world cry in twenty-four hours.  He felt awful, the guilt biting at his gut.  

He moved closer to her, taking her into his arms, grateful when she let him, crying against his chest the way she had that night so long ago, the night that they’d made love the first time….the night that he had comforted her when another man had hurt her.  He hated the thought of being just the next guy in line to do that to her, because she was a good person; she didn’t deserve this.

“Hey, it’s okay….” He whispered, kissing her on the top of the head.  

She sat back to smile tearily at him, wiping the back of her hand across one of her cheeks as she said, “No it’s not, Jim.  Come on….” 

His eyes met hers for a long moment, and he heard himself whisper, “This doesn’t have to mean it’s over between you and me.” 

She tried to laugh, but failed as her breath caught on a sob, then: “How could it not mean it’s over between you and me, Jim?  I mean, I’m apparently the only thing that has been standing in the way of you finally being with the woman you’ve been in love with for so long.” 

He hated hearing her say that, hated knowing what how hard it must’ve been for her to her to say it; he could see that she was nothing short of devastated, the tears continuing to stream down her cheeks even as she smiled at him bravely.  He felt so confused, so helpless. 

He lowered his head then, feeling a lump in his throat, then he said softly, truthfully, “You haven’t been in the way, Andi.” 

He raised his eyes to hers, then: “And I’m not just….giving up on you and me.” 

She took another deep, quivering breath, wanting so much to be strong, but the tears kept coming anyway as she looked at him sitting there next to her, head bowed, shoulders slumped, so obviously in anguish….not just because of the situation in which he was caught, but because he knew he’d hurt her, and that’s what was obviously bothering him the most. It made her realize that she was falling in love with him, that he maybe was the most incredible man she’d ever met.   

The realization didn’t make it any easier to say what she was about to say.  

“Jim, I’ve…. I’ve been where you are right now.” She told him, watching him raise his head to look at her, misery all over his face. 

“Where I am?” He repeated.  

“Yeah….dating someone you really like, someone you don’t want to hurt….” Her voice trailed off, and when she spoke again, her voice was so soft he had to lean forward a little to hear her, “But in love with somebody else.” 

Tears were standing out in his eyes when she dared to look up at him again, and even though he was shaking his head slowly, she knew from those tears that she was right. 

“C’mon, Andi, don’t….” He couldn’t finish.  

“Jim…you come on.” She tried to sound light-hearted, as if it weren’t killing her to say what she was saying with such false bravado. Then, taking a deep breath, she forced herself to look him square in the eye, asking, “Are you in love with Pam?” 

An expression of anguish crossed his face briefly, and he looked for an instant like he might just lose it. 

She saw his jaw tense as he tilted his head at her a little, then he whispered, “Andi, c’mon, don’t do that; we don’t…. I don’t want to do this.” 

“Just answer the question, Jim.” She managed to smile, but then her expression broke as she whispered, tears falling again, “Please. I need you to.” 

His head dropped, and it was a long time before he looked back up at her.  He swallowed hard a few times, his jaw trembling; she could see that he desperately didn’t want to answer the question, that he couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her.  

And she suspected that he was struggling to face the fact himself that he was still in love with Pam.  

“Jim –“ 

“Yes.” He whispered then, his head dropping to his hands.  

As much as it killed her to hear him say it, it hurt even more to see him sitting there like that, looking just bare, raw….devastated. In spite of herself, she started to cry. 

He raised his head, then reached to pull her into his arms again, holding her as she cried, whispering over and over, “I’m sorry, Andi; I’m so sorry…. I didn’t mean for this to happen.” 

She let herself cry against him for a while, knowing it was the last time, probably, she’d ever feel his arms around her.  She told herself when she pulled back and smiled bravely at him that she was doing the right thing.  She knew she was; she’d seen the same anguish that was on Jim’s face now on Pam’s so many times.  And it wasn’t fair to try to stand in the way of that, no matter how much she wanted to cling to him, beg him to let her try, promise him that she’d love him in a way that Pam never could. 

Because even as she thought that, she knew it wasn’t true.  He and Pam had a history; they had so much more. 

“Hey.” She pulled back to smile bravely at him again, closing her eyes when he reached to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Why are you sitting here with me?  Go.” 

She nodded toward the door, pretending that it didn’t hurt her to do it.  She didn’t convince him; he just cocked his head at her, looking so….helpless, so tortured for a second.  

“Andi….” He whispered throatily.

“No.” She shook her head. “Not having it, Halpert. Go to her; go now. You’ve got a lot to straighten out.” 

She stood then, pulling him to his feet, forcing herself to keep smiling at him, willing herself to hold it together until he was gone.  

He looked hard at her for a second, then touched her cheek again, saying softly, “You really are an incredible woman, Andrea Rochester; I hope you know that.” 

She nodded, unable to say anything, then tilted her head toward the door again.  He knew she was trying to be brave, knew it was killing her to do what she was doing…but he also knew that it would only hurt her more if he prolonged this.

So he nodded slowly, moving to the door, where he paused and turned, saying, “Hey…thank you.” 

She shook her head, unable to do more than give him a tight smile.  As soon as the door slammed behind him, she sank onto her couch, clutching a pillow as she let the sobs just come, shaking violently as she told herself over and over, I did the right thing; I did the right thing.

Pam opened her eyes, her head pounding, feeling slightly disoriented for a second, and then the events from the night before came rushing back to her with a clarity that should’ve been dulled by the alcohol she’d consumed the night before, but somehow wasn’t. 

She looked over her shoulder at Roy, who was sleeping next to her, and she instantly thought, What have I done?  

She crept out of bed quietly, trying not to wake him, but he woke up anyway, his eyes resting on her as a smile made its way across his face. 

“I thought I was dreaming for a second.” He said quietly.  

She couldn’t bring herself to smile back at him, couldn’t even look at him, her eyes lowering to her hands as she began, “Roy, listen – “ 

He saw the look on her face, and his smile faded a bit, worry creeping in the edges of his expression as he asked, “Pam….what’s wrong?”  

She shook her head, hating herself, not even sure where to begin, what to say.  It seemed to her that she was at the bottom of a dark pit, having dug herself in blindly, impulsively.  And she just had no idea where to begin in finding her way out without making things worse.  

She knew that the only thing she could do now was be honest with him; she was beginning to slowly realize that it was her own inability to be honest with herself, to face her feelings, that had landed her here in the first place.  She was through with denial, through running away.  

He was watching her closely, picking up on the fact that she was regretting what had happened, so he sat up slowly, then asked, “What? Why do you look like that?  I thought you wanted this.” 

“This is entirely my fault.” She murmured, then, “I had no right to do this to you. It was stupid, and I was weak….and I’m so sorry.” 

“Pam, what are you….?” He shook his head, then, “So this isn’t what you wanted...”

“Roy, I was drunk, and I was…upset.” She lowered her eyes, feeling like a coward for blaming it on the alcohol, but she didn’t know what else to say.  I’m in love with another man? Please. 

“Why were you so upset?” His eyes narrowed.  

“I can’t talk about it, really.” She shook her head, feeling the tears threaten again, then forced herself to say, “Could you please just take me home?”           

“Are you serious?” He asked, looking stunned, hurt.

“I’m sorry, Roy; I just….” She shook her head again. “This was a mistake.”           

“A mistake?” His eyebrows raised as he drew back. “Are you kidding me?”           

“No.” Her voice was low.            

He was angry now, and he suddenly threw the covers back, standing to pull on a pair of jeans, shaking his head at her, then saying, “I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, Pam; I’ve been up front with you, told you what I want, but….”           

He couldn’t finish, and her head bowed again. But the truth was that he was more angry at himself than at her; he’d known the night before, even as she’d pressed her lips against his, pulling at his clothes, that there was more to it….that there was a possibility that she was acting on impulse – and hurt – and that she might well regret it the next day. But it was easier to be angry at her than to face how much the reality hurt.   

_________________________________________________________________________ 

Jim stopped by his apartment long enough to look up her address online, not allowing himself to think, to analyze, to hesitate.  He had the strong sense that he needed to just go, to keep taking steps forward…toward her.  Because the one thing that he had learned from all of this is that apparently, taking steps away from her led him in the wrong direction, caused him to make stupid mistakes, to hurt people, including himself. 

He knocked on her door hesitantly, not sure what to expect.  Would she slam the door in his face?  Slap him again?   He didn’t care; he had to try, couldn’t stop trying until she would let him in, let him talk to her.  

When she didn’t answer, he paused, then knocked again, calling out, “Pam, it’s me; we need to talk about this, please.”  

Her car was there; he knew she had to be home.  He waited for a few minutes, not sure of what to do; did he have a right to keep banging on her door like that, or should he just leave her alone, try again later?  

He was still debating what to do when he glanced over and saw Roy’s truck pulling in across the parking lot. In a purely instinctive move, he backed away from her door, moving to stand farther down the sidewalk, half concealed by some shrubbery, feeling suddenly nervous, his mind racing: Why is she with Roy?  

Roy hadn’t said a word on the way to her apartment, and she sat there with that lump in her throat, knowing she needed to say something, knowing he deserved an explanation, but she wasn’t even sure how to articulate what had happened.   How could she explain that she’d slept with him in a knee jerk reaction to the fact that Jim and Andi had been carrying on some illicit affair behind her back without hurting him?  

When he pulled up outside her building, she turned and looked at him, then said softly, “I’m really sorry about last night….about everything.  And I know that’s not enough, but it’s just….all I can offer.”  

Her voice was sincere, and he bowed his head for a second.  He was clearly contemplating something, seemed to be working up the courage to ask her a question.  

Then he raised his head, eyes meeting hers. “I need to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me, no matter how much you think it might hurt me.” 

She nodded, feeling fear creep into the pit of her stomach at what he might ask. “Is it Halpert?”

His eyes were on her face, and she was stunned at what he’d asked.  How had he….?  

He could tell what she was thinking, so he added, looking away from her, out the window, “I saw him out in that parking lot last night when we were leaving; I know that he has something to do with how upset you were.” 

“Why didn’t you say something….?” She was confused.  

He didn’t answer for a long time, then said, “Because I had an idea of what might be going on, and I was just hoping that somehow, being with me again might make you see that….it’s me that you want, not him.” 

She couldn’t speak, feeling a lump rise in her throat, stunned at what he was telling her.  All this time, she’d thought he had no idea about her feelings for Jim. 

“So I’m asking you now.” He turned back to her, eyes meeting hers.  She saw him notice the tears in her eyes, his lips tightening. “Is he who you want?” 

“Roy….” She started to cry, reaching out for one of his hands. 

“Pam, I need to hear you say it.” His voice was tight, strained. “I can’t move on if I think there’s hope here. If you can look me in the eye and tell me that this is over, really over, then I’ll….leave you alone.  But if there’s any chance….” 

"I’m in love with him.” She whispered, a tear trickling down her cheek. The words had just slipped out, and she felt awful, cruel…. But at the same time, she knew that honesty – brutal honesty – was what he needed, was what he was asking for.  

And there was something strangely liberating in saying it out loud for the very first time, no matter how hopeless it was, no matter that it was too late, no matter that Jim was with someone else now.

Roy winced, turning his head away from her sharply.  He sat silently for a few minutes, then turned back to her, tears standing out in his eyes now.

“That’s what I needed to know.” He said, his voice rough, strained.  They sat in silence for a few minutes, she wiping the tears away, he looking out the window, as if it hurt too much to look at her. 

Then he said, “I need to go.” She nodded, wanting to hug him, but she knew that the kindest thing to do would be to leave him alone, just get out of the car, no matter how much it hurt to see him sitting there looking so destroyed.

 “Bye.” She whispered, getting out and slamming the door behind her, not looking back at him.   

Jim felt frozen, unable to move as the full implications of what he was seeing washed over him: She’s wearing the same clothes she had on yesterday; she spent the night with him.  She slept with him….   

He felt as if someone had knocked the breath out of him, because he’d been so sure that it was completely over between she and Roy, because he’d just taken for granted that she had successfully broken away from him….and she so obviously hadn’t.  

 And then, feeling like he might throw up, he thought, I can’t believe I’m back here again.  

She didn’t even notice Jim standing on the sidewalk until she’d almost gotten to her door.  Then she’d seen him, standing there looking shocked, hurt.

 “Jim….” She said, realizing that he’d put two and two together, feeling humiliated, horrible. 

“No.” He shook his head, holding up a hand. “You know what?  Just – this was a bad idea.  Never mind.” 

She called out his name again, but he just shook his head, getting in his car and driving away. 

In a moment of desperation, she contemplated getting in her car and following him, but she was afraid to because she didn’t know what she’d say if she caught up to him.  

She ran a bath as soon as she got in her apartment, trying to steady herself, trying not to panic at the little snatches of memories that kept invading her mind from the night before: How she’d cried like such a fool in front of him, jerking away when he tried to touch her; the tears in his eyes as he tried to explain; when she’d slapped his face….  She closed her eyes, thinking, I can’t believe I actually hit him. 

She slid into the tub, not wanting to really face what this signified.  She told herself she had just been upset that they’d been keeping it from her, but in the light of day, she knew that wasn’t really a good excuse; in her drunken rage, she had just let go, not even able to stifle what she was feeling.  But now the voice of reason was starting to creep in:  What right do you have to deny him that?  You rejected him; you told him to forget about it all, and that’s what he tried to do.   

Why had he kept it from her? That was the sticking point, the thing that made her cry all over again when she thought of how many hours she’d spent sitting next to the two of them at lunch, at meetings, at office functions…and all that time, they’d been…..           

She knew, though, somewhere deep down – in some honest place buried by her wounded pride, her aching ego – that the reason Jim had kept it from her was that he hadn’t wanted to hurt her.  Last night she’d been so humiliated and stunned that the first logical step was to assume the worst, that maybe they were getting off on keeping it from her.  But that wasn’t Jim, and she knew it.  He was just doing what he always did in keeping it from her: looking out for her, protecting her feelings, regardless of what that meant for him.

 ….Just like he’d been waiting for her this morning, probably to apologize for the night before when he hadn’t even done anything wrong, just to make sure she was okay with the fact that he’d moved on.   

The realization made her drop her head in her hands and cry, because it reminded her of just why she’d fallen in love with him in the first place.  And now it was too late; he was with someone else now, someone who seemed like she might actually be right for him – good for him.   

That was the hardest thing about all of it, Pam knew – that Andi wasn’t some vapid former cheerleader with whom Jim couldn’t possibly relate; Andi was warm and smart and funny….and he was probably happier with her than he ever had been.

She knew she deserved this for putting him through so much hell for so long.  She knew, too, that she couldn’t begrudge him this, his happiness, even if it meant the end of her own.   

_____________________________________________________________________________ 

He told himself the whole way home that it didn’t matter, that none of it mattered; that it didn’t matter that he’d broken Andi’s heart, that it didn’t matter that Pam was apparently still very much involved with Roy….nothing mattered.  

When he got home, the silence of his apartment was deafening. Even though he knew better, he dug out the nice bottle of whiskey that Mark had given him when he’d moved out, pouring himself a stiff drink.   He sat silently at his kitchen table, feeling pathetic as he slowly got drunker than he’d been in longer than he could remember. 

He found himself wanting to call Pam, then alternately wanting to run back to Andi as he wondered if he’d made the biggest mistake of his life in walking away from a woman that had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt in that last thirty minute conversation that she really loved him.  She loved him enough to sacrifice her own happiness for his; she loved him like he loved Pam. The realization made him chuckle bitterly, drunkenly.  It just never seemed to end.  

Late on Sunday night he’d gotten an email from Andi, and he felt a sense of dread as he clicked on it, knowing somehow already what it would say before he even read it:  

Jim,  

So I figured that I was brave enough yesterday morning to earn the right to wimp out and tell you this via email; I hope you’re not too disappointed in me.  

I sent Jan an email yesterday afternoon asking if we could discuss my possibly transferring to the Pittsfield branch.  (This is like musical chairs, I’m starting to realize – musical chairs for the lovelorn, maybe.)  

Anyway, I didn’t expect to hear back from her so soon, but I did, and she indicated in her email that they could still use me in Pittsfield.  I’m supposed to meet her there first thing Monday morning to discuss the transfer, work out the logistics. You should know that I’m planning on pushing not to have to come back again to the Scranton branch, if it’s at all possible to avoid doing so.  And I don’t want you feeling guilty either, because this is not your fault.   

I knew when I got involved with you that you were still in love with someone else; I just didn’t realize that she was in love with you, too. 

But that’s the reality, and yes, this hurts like hell – you’re an amazing guy, Jim Halpert, and you should know that as well – but I also know that this would have hurt a lot more if we’d dragged it on any longer….if you’d been less of a standup guy and given into the guilt, begged me back.  

As much as I’m missing you already, I’m grateful that you didn’t do that.  It will be easier this way in the long run; I know that.  Because Jim, I wouldn’t have wanted to be your equivalent of Pam’s Roy – the wrong person, the one that keeps you from being with the person that you really love….the person with whom you stayed out of obligation, not passion. 

I believe with everything in me that things work out for a reason; it’s a philosophy that has always sustained me in the worst of times.  It usually takes a while for its healing powers to kick in, but already I know this: From the perspective of someone on the outside, I have to tell you that there is just no way it wasn’t meant to be that you tried to transfer to get away from Pam, only to be transferred back; it also wasn’t an accident that she called off her wedding anyway.  

And I’m forcing myself to believe that it wasn’t an accident that I said that stupid thing to her the other night (please, please apologize to her for me, please). 

This was all meant to be – even my losing you, having to leave you.   Someone told me once that you could gauge a relationship by whether or not it left you better than it found you, and I can tell you that ours certainly did.  You helped me heal a lot; had I been left with what Shannon did and nothing else, I wouldn’t have half as much hope for the future as I do now.  

So take good care, Jim; I genuinely hope you can find happiness with Pam, because if anyone deserves it, it’s definitely you --- and I really, really mean that. 

Much love,  Andi 

Pam had been stunned to hear that Andi might not be back, and she’d immediately looked at Jim.  He steadfastedly avoided her gaze, looking miserable, weary.             

The hours ticked by slowly, neither of them speaking to the other, as if they were too bruised by what had happened that Friday night to even pretend to be casual.  But she watched his face closely, unable to keep one single thought from running through her head: I love this man more than I’ve ever loved anyone.  

It was why she’d made such a mess of things with Roy, and it was even why she’d screwed things up with Jim so badly.  Because it was a love that ran so deep that it terrified her.  Jim knew her – really knew her in a way that Roy never had, and sadly, never would – never could.  She’d been afraid of that for so long, but now she was realizing that it was a gift.  

She didn’t know what had happened between he and Andi, but she suspected it was over between them; whether he had ended it or she had, Pam wasn’t sure.  But it didn’t matter, ultimately; she was suddenly painfully aware of the fact that they were wasting so much time, so much precious time, when already they’d wasted years. 

Maybe he loved Andrea; maybe he was already pining for her.  She didn't think that was the case, but she couldn’t be sure.  Regardless, she knew that he had put himself on the line for her months and months ago, and she’d devastated him in a way that she was only now beginning to understand – because even though she’d loved him then, she’d never had to feel even for a second what it might be like to be in his shoes.  And Friday night, she had been painfully transported right to that place when Andi had let it slip that they were together.  

And she’d screamed at him, sobbed like a child, even slapped his face.  But he had still stood there in front of her, unwilling to go away because he loved her that much.   

Even when he’d seen her get out of Roy’s car the next morning, he hadn’t been awful, when god knows he could have been.  He’d just slowly backed away, more out of self preservation than anything else; she knew that instinctively. 

So at the very end of the day, she sent him a simple email: “We’re wasting time, and all I can think is that I need you so much closer.” 

It was cryptic and it didn’t make sense, but she knew that he’d understand.  How she knew, she couldn’t have said, but she was just certain that he’d get it.  

She watched his face as he read her email, color coming to his cheeks.  His eyes slowly raised to hers, and she smiled softly at him.  A slow, hesitant smile broke out across his face, and then he began typing: “Can we talk after work?” 

He heard the faint ding on her computer when she received his message, and when she read it, she glanced up at him and nodded almost imperceptibly.   

The remaining thirty minutes seemed to drag on for eternity, but at last it was time to go.  They got on the elevator together, waiting for the doors to close. She was suddenly painfully aware of the confined space, gazing up at him and then quickly turning her eyes away as she asked, “Why don’t we go back to my place?  We can talk there.” 

“Sure.” He nodded, his eyes resting on her profile.  The hope that swelled within him was almost unbearable.  

She suggested he ride with her, just to avoid the hassle of having to bother with two cars, and he readily agreed, anxious at the thought of being separated from her for some silly reason. On the way there, she’d cautiously asked about Andi; he’d answered equally carefully. 

“It’s over between us.” He said softly, eyes on Pam’s face.  

She nodded. “I’m sorry.” She paused, then asked, “Is…it okay?” 

He smiled sadly, saying, “Yeah, actually.  She was really great about it.” 

Pam nodded again, taking that to mean that Jim had been the one to end it; she couldn’t help but feel relieved. Then he said, “Pam, she didn’t know anything about….you, us, our history.”

His eyes were on her face as she drove, and he was caught off guard to see that she didn’t seem surprised by that. “I didn’t think that she knew, after I had time to really….process everything.” She paused, glancing behind her before she made a turn. “At first I thought maybe keeping it from me was something that you two were…enjoying–“

“Pam, no – “ 

“No, it’s okay.” She glanced over, giving him a quick smile. “I mean, I realize now that it wasn’t like that at all.  I liked her a lot, actually, and…. I know she wouldn’t have deliberately tried to….”  

She didn’t finish, and he simply said, “Yeah.”

 Then she laughed for a second, saying, “It’s really kind of ironic, but…. I hate to see her go.” 

He smiled at her wryly, but didn’t comment.   Then Pam surprised him by saying, “I thought about it a lot over the weekend, and I realized that I could be okay with you two because….well, I really think a lot of her as a person, and I knew that she must make you happy, that she was probably…good to you.”

 She stopped then, and he saw her swallow hard. He resisted the urge to touch her cheek, take her hand; instead, he simply said, his voice soft, warm, “She is a good person, Pam.  Just not the right person.” 

He was surprised at himself for being so bold, but then he remembered what her email had said: We’re wasting time, and all I can think is that I need you so much closer. 

When she’d opened the door to her apartment, he stepped inside, his eyes wide as he took in everything around him, immediately exclaiming, “Wow…Pam, this is incredible; what a great apartment!” 

She’d watched him nervously as he’d walked around her living room, taking in her artwork, the pictures in frames, everything.  For some reason, it thrilled her to see the way he seemed to be looking at everything, admiring every single detail.  It was so like him to do that.  

He had then turned to her, looking so proud as he told her, “This place is awesome, Pam; it’s so…you.”  

She’d flushed then, going to the kitchen to grab a few cokes, pouring them into glasses as she called out for him to have a seat.  When she’d brought the cokes to the living room, the sight of him sitting on her sofa sent the strangest feeling through her: It was complete exhilaration, pure happiness, because she was so excited to have him over; it felt so right to share her apartment with him.  And at the same time, there was a sadness there as she thought of the past few months and beyond, the time she’d spent without him.  She never would have believed that he’d be here with her this way.   

She sat curled up on the opposite end of the sofa from him, and a slightly uncomfortable silence fell for a moment.  They’d glanced at each other shyly at about the same time, then they’d simultaneously smiled self-consciously.  He bowed his head, eyes focusing on the glass he held, and she realized that he was waiting for her to say something.      

She finally took a deep breath, then said, “I’m sorry, Jim.” 

He’d glanced back up at her then, looked surprised, asking, “For what?” 

She shrugged, looking away from him for a second as she shook her head, then said, “For everything.  For the past few months, especially.  It’s been…hard.” She went on. “I’m sorry for what I did to you Friday night; I had no right to go off on you like that – “ 

“Yes you did.” He said softly.   

She was caught off guard, then asked, “Why do you say that?” 

He shook his head. “I’m not sure, to be honest.  I just…. You had every right to be hurt, upset.  …Maybe not to slap my face, but….” 

She put her hands to her mouth as he laughed, then she exclaimed, “I am so sorry!  If it’s any consolation, even in my drunken, infuriated state, I immediately felt guilty.” 

He chuckled at her, marveling at the fact that he was actually able to see the humor in it already, then said, “Well, you should have. I did not expect that.”

 They laughed together for a second, then he took a deep breath. “Listen, I need to talk to you about the thing with Andi, to explain….” 

“You don’t owe me an explanation.” She forced herself to say, though part of her really wanted to know…needed to know how he’d gotten involved with someone else so quickly.

 “Look, logically – no, I don’t.  I know intellectually that you had no right to be angry at me for getting involved with someone else.  So no, logically I don’t owe you an explanation.” He paused, then, “But I just…it doesn’t seem like logic or reason have ever factored in where my feelings for you are concerned.” 

She smiled at what he’d said, then nodded, waiting for him to go on.

 “She and I worked together closely at the Stamford branch; we started to go out after work for drinks.  I didn’t….pursue her, didn’t even really have an interest in pursuing her.  I was just enjoying her company, the distraction.  And then we just sort of….fell into dating unexpectedly. I never took the time to analyze what it was, what I was doing.” He hesitated, swallowed hard, and then, “I just need you to know that I wasn’t in love with her, that whatever she and I had or were…is resolved.  I don’t want you worrying about that.  Okay?” 

Pam nodded, looking up at him gratefully, wondering how it was exactly that he always seemed to know just what she needed.  Because she’d needed to hear that; she’d been so afraid that maybe things had gotten more serious with Andi than she’d initially thought.

 Okay, she thought. Now it’s my turn.  

Her voice was gentle as she said, “I’m sorry about….the whole Roy thing.” 

He lowered his eyes, thinking, Ah, here’s where it gets really painful and difficult.

 “Pam – “ 

“No.” She interrupted him. “I need for you to know; you need to hear me: I’m not waffling on what I feel for him; I’m not second guessing my decision to break up with him, to cancel the wedding.  I’ve never hesitated about that.” 

Jim nodded, unable to look at her as he couldn’t help but be aware of the reality of what had happened Friday night: She’d surely slept with him, for whatever the reason.  He had no right to feel jealous or angry, and he knew that, but somehow, he couldn’t help it.  

She went on. “And what happened between Roy and I Friday night was…. It was the first time anything like that had happened, and it was the last.  And in the interest of being brutally honest….” 

Her voice trailed off, and Jim looked up at her expectantly.  “It was a knee-jerk reaction to….what I’d found out about you and Andi.”

She lowered her eyes briefly, and Jim nodded, unable to speak. 

“But you should know that there’s no question there, no ambiguity as far as what I feel for Roy is concerned.” She watched Jim’s expression carefully, relieved when he raised his head to look at her, as she added, “I mean that.” 

“Okay.” It was all he could manage to say.  

A somewhat awkward silence fell, then Pam said: “And there’s no doubt in my mind about what I feel for you, what this is….but I need some time; I need to take it slow.”  

Then she’d laughed suddenly, adding, “I mean, we see where acting on impulse seems to get us.” 

He chuckled, then nodded again, and when his eyes raised to hers, it occurred to her: This is it; this is real.  

As if he could read her mind, he whispered, “It’s going to be okay; we’ll work this out somehow.” 

She thought for a second of those months she’d spent without him, missing him, willing to give anything to see that face one more time, and then she suddenly and unexpectedly burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably, her hands covering her face.   

He gently touched her hands, taking them in his own as he moved them from her face, saying, “Hey, Pam…” 

Her eyes, still awash with fresh tears, met his; the expression on her face was so heartbroken – nose red, cheeks streaked, chin trembling, breaths in hiccoughing gulps – that he winced, closing his eyes.  She saw his jaw tense, saw something like fear flicker behind his eyes.  His reaction only made her sob harder.  This man loves you. 

He only paused for a second before he moved closer to her, pulling her into his arms, guiding her head to his chest as one hand roamed her back while the other stroked her hair.  Although he loved the way she immediately clung to him, her face buried in his shirt as she shook, little gasps emitting from her, it also broke his heart to see her so devastated -- again.  She was like a little girl whose feelings are suddenly hurt – seeming so vulnerable, almost incapable of protecting herself. 

She felt five years old again for a second, so tired and vulnerable and unable to control her tears, but so safe at the same time, as if nothing bad could happen as long as he was holding her there.  The realization made her cry harder.   She clung to him desperately, as if she were afraid he’d disappear; it felt so good to cry on his broad shoulder, to take in the familiar scent of him, so masculine and clean…comforting. 

It occurred to her how many times she’d wanted to do this; there were too many times to count.  After the way she’d so suddenly turned on him at the dojo that day, or on Christmas, when she’d realized how awful it had been of her to pick that stupid ipod over the teapot he was so proud to have gotten her…or the day of that ridiculous conflict resolution fiasco Michael had caused, when she had realized how much she’d been hurting him by planning her wedding when he could hear her. 

Now it was actually happening; she had finally let go, and he was holding her, speaking softly in her ear, telling her over and over, “It’s okay,” murmuring, “I’m here...”  

Close to ten minutes or more passed as he held her, she clutching his shirt absently, not even trying to contain the tears anymore; she was just letting it out, all the misery of the past few months, all the emotions she’d been trying to pretend didn’t exist for so long.  And he continued to hold her as if he understood, occasionally brushing his hand down the back of her hair, once or twice pressing his lips to the top of her head.   

The sorrow in him started to dissipate, a sense of tranquility replacing it.  He could tell that she was letting go finally, that she trusted him enough to do so.  She was clutching his shirt so tightly, he knew, because he somehow made her feel safe. 

It was the strangest, most powerful mix of contentment and heartbreak to hold her as she sobbed – the tears killed him, but the fact that he could hold her and comfort her instead of looking on helplessly seemed to just chase away all the regrets.  

Then he found himself thinking, This is the way that it should be.

He held her for a long time, listening as her sobs gradually, gradually subsided, her breathing returning to normal.  She pulled back a little to smile up at him, and he reached out to brush one of her damp cheeks with the back of his hand, feeling the moisture of her tears lingering on his fingers as he asked, his voice soft, his feelings all over him, “You okay?”            

At his question, her brow had furrowed a bit; for a second she’d looked like she might cry again.  He was immediately alarmed, but she laughed suddenly, nodding, then waving her hands back and forth quickly as if to try to snap out of it. 

He couldn’t help himself; before he knew it he was staring at her lips, seized with the sudden urge to kiss her.  She obviously picked up on this, because her eyes, too, moved from his to rest on his mouth.  There was something in her expression, though…a fear mixed with that longing.   

So he asked her simply, his voice soft, “Hey…what do you want?” 

Her eyes met his, her head cocked slightly as if she wasn’t sure what he meant by the question.  So he smiled a little wider, then: “I mean, what do you want from me?” 

In her mind she saw the image of herself in his arms, his lips on hers, and she felt a heat steal over her.  She looked away quickly. 

He was caught off guard – and delighted – when a blush immediately stained her cheeks, prompting her to quickly avert her eyes.  He had no idea exactly what she’d just been thinking, but he could clearly see that it apparently involved something with him….something naughty.   He’d teased her, raising his eyebrows at her when she dared to sneak a peek at him. 

He affected a tone of indignation, exclaiming, “Well, I’m not sure how easy you think I am--“ 

“Oh my god, would you please just shut up!” She groaned, burying her head in her hands, then glared up at him. “Can’t you let one go by?  Do you have to pick up on everything?” 

He loved her reaction – that she hadn’t even tried to deny it, that she’d groaned and covered her face in embarrassment.   He burst out laughing, instinctively pulling her into his arms again, loving the way she eagerly rested against him, holding her there as he continued to laugh. 

It struck him then that he’d laughed with her a hundred times in the past three and a half years, but he’d never been able to laugh with this much abandon, because there had always been that lingering sadness there, a result of the knowledge that he wanted her so much…that she couldn’t be his.   

But now he knew without even asking that she was his – well, almost. 

As if she could read his mind, she said quietly, her voice a little muffled because her head was resting again on his chest, “I want to do this, but I need it to be slow.  Really, really slow.  Especially since…well, since you just broke up with Andi, and….” 

The vulnerability in her voice and the way that she clutched his tie like a little girl moved him deeply; for one inane moment, he remembered how Katy had had a propensity for pulling him by the tie, and it had always annoyed him for some reason.  But with Pam, it was altogether very different.  She can grab me by the tie any time she wants, he thought, and it’ll make me melt; I know it.  He pulled back a little to gaze down at her, loving the sight of her nestled against him like that.           

“I meant it when I told you I’d do anything you want.”  Again, an appreciation washed over him at the fact that he could say that to her now.  There had never been a time when it hadn’t been true, but it had always been his secret, one that he’d wanted so desperately to tell her – and had tried to, in fact, by doing the tiny little things that he could safely do, like talking Michael out of giving her the Longest Engagement Award, or immediately buying the teapot she’d mentioned in September and holding onto it until Christmas.  

She wondered for a split second if he had any idea what it did to her to hear him say that.   Her voice broke through his thoughts, and it quivered a little when she asked, “Can we go really, really slow?  Like…stupidly slow?” 

The fact that she seemed so afraid made his feelings quicken for an instant; all he wanted to do was reassure her, make her happy. 

So he cocked his head at her and said, feigning ignorance, “I’m not sure what you mean…are you implying that we act like Michael?” 

She laughed at the look on his face; he loved the fact that he could feel her giggles vibrating in his chest because her head was resting so comfortably there. 

For some reason, he was reminded of Michael’s kindness on the Booze Cruise, so he said, “Okay, so I’m feeling guilty about that joke; Michael can really be such a great guy, actually.  It’s just the way you said it---“ 

Then she’d peeked up at him, not lifting her head from his chest, then retorting, “Suck it, Halpert.” Okay, he thought, so it’s always been cute when she says that, but oh my god – the sight of her saying it with her head resting against my chest, peeking up at me with those eyes? I’m just a goner; I’m done. 

He grinned at her, saying, “See, now you talk like that, but you say you want to take it slow. I’m starting to feel like maybe you’re trying to lure me into a trap or something.  Wait a minute – have you formed an alliance with Dwight?  Are you just setting me up?”  

Then he took one of her hands in his, adding, “Seriously, though…anything you need.  I’ve suddenly got all the time in the world; I hope you know that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do…” 

She positively beamed up at him, her face radiant, all trace of the tears erased, with the exception of the little black mascara smudges she’d left on his shirt.  He didn’t care; he loved what they represented.  

He felt that familiar attraction creeping up on him, so in the interest of honoring her request that they take it slow, he asked her, “So…what now?  A game of go fish?” 

She immediately burst out laughing at him, raising her head to giggle at him, obviously assuming he’d been kidding.   

He had to struggle not to smile, pursing his lips together as he asked, “Hey, what are you laughing at?  I am so not kidding.” For effect, he’d cracked his knuckles, then informed her, “I play a mean game of go fish.  Just so you know.” 

As she sat back, moving to the other side of the couch, all she could do for a minute was smile at him, and then she felt those damned tears welling again.  She knew what he was doing, and she was so grateful.  He was taking it slow; he was doing what she wanted, what she needed, what he knew was best for her…just like he always had. 

He sat quietly for a few seconds, watching her affectionately, then he couldn’t stand it; he had to try to do something to keep those tears from falling.  “Okay, so I’m beginning to wonder if maybe it’s me.  Is it my hair? You don’t like the hair – it’s too tousled, right?” 

Her face instantly brightened, and he thought, Thank god….

“No, it isn’t the hair; the hair’s actually quite nice.” She retorted. “It’s that you’re freakishly tall.” 

He raised his eyebrows at her, pretending to be offended, though he was secretly overjoyed that she said she liked his hair.  Even though she had all but confirmed her feelings for him, he still out of habit found himself clinging to every little hint that she dropped.   

He leaned his head at her skeptically, then said, “Well then. Don’t hold back, really.  For your information, I met a particularly saucy girl at a party once who whispered in my ear that she wanted to climb me like a tree --” The look on Pam’s face was priceless – was, in fact, very much like the expression he’d worn when the girl had said that to him.  

He pointed at her, then said, “Yes, that was exactly my reaction.” 

She  looked at him closely, her eyes narrowed as she thought, he has got to be making that up; who would have the nerve to walk up to a guy and say something like that?

 “Are you making this up?” She was looking at him suspiciously. 

“Hand to god, it happened.  How would I make that up?” He shrugged, then: “By the way, what does that even mean?  Climb me like a tree….?” 

She wasn’t even entirely sure what that meant, but standing there looking at him, she could certainly imagine: Oh, it probably meant that you’re tall and lanky and sexy, and when you’re sprawled out in a chair, it’s really very tempting to want to climb in your lap…. 

But of course she didn’t say it, only laughed instead at the baffled expression on his face, then said, “That you’re freakishly tall.”   

“Thanks, Beesley.  You make me feel so…pretty.” He grinned at her.    

She laughed at him again, then suddenly said, “So, I’ll make you a deal: You deal the go fish hands – no cheating! – and I can make dinner.”  

For some reason he was reminded of that night on the roof when he’d made her a grilled cheese sandwich and she’d murmured, “I can’t remember the last time someone made me dinner.” The knowledge that now – soon – he may well be able to make dinner for her all the time made him feel again that rush of happiness that left him feeling positively giddy.  

“Well that doesn’t seem even remotely fair.” He told her.  “Why don’t we make dinner together, then you can watch me deal the hand afterward? That way, you know I won’t cheat, and you can’t accuse me of doing so when you lose.” 

Her eyes widened, her mouth opening in mock surprise, and he gave the face right back to her.  At his boastful challenge, her eyebrows had raised at him as if to say, Oh really?  He mimicked her expression with one of his own, as if to say, Oh yes…I went there. 

A comfortable silence fell, then she was narrowing her eyes, looking at him suspiciously before she asked, “Do you know how to cook?” 

“Do I know how to cook?” He scoffed at her in mock indignation, standing and holding his hand out to her, which she took, allowing him to help her to her feet. “Do I know how to cook? I’ll have you know, Pam Beesley, that I am practically famous for my chicken marsala.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes, I am.” He affirmed smugly. 

“So what all do you need to make it?” 

“Well I don’t know.” He said it as though she’d asked a stupid question, trying for as long as he could to keep a straight face, then he grinned sheepishly. “I’d need to look at the recipe.” 

She’d sighed, then countered, “Well then it obviously isn’t your chicken marsala, now is it?” 

He’d raised an eyebrow at her, searching for the right retort, then had finally given up and said, “Touché.” 

They laughed together for a second, and he resisted the urge to reach out and catch her hand in his.  He happily followed her in the kitchen, where they compromised, making spaghetti instead, because that’s what she had the makings for there in her kitchen. He loved making her laugh, watching her shoulders shake as he put on her apron, pretending not to understand what was so funny about that.  That, of course, had only cracked her up even more, and she’d had to lean against the kitchen counter to catch her breath. 

He was true to his word; they played seven games of go fish, and he gladly let her beat him at five of them, allowing himself to win only two just so he could salvage some shreds of his manhood.   

When they’d grown tired of playing, he felt a tiny sense of sadness at the thought of the night coming to an end, but he knew he needed to go home, to give her some space.  After all, they’d have tomorrow…and the next day, and the day after that.  Never before had time seemed like such a precious gift, had it held such incredible promise.  

She stifled a yawn, prompting him to smile at her affectionately before he said, “So here’s the thing.” 

She returned his smile. “Oh, so there’s a ‘thing.’ Interesting.” 

“It’s close to one, and I’m just thinking that…” He paused, feigning discomfort. “Well, this is a little awkward, but I’m supposed to pick up Peaches in half an hour.” 

She didn’t skip a beat. “Oh, well by all means.” 

“Seriously, though… I know you must be tired, and I don’t want to…overstay my welcome.” He searched her expression, aware that there was just no way he could stay, but hoping somehow that she’d tell him to anyway.  He was fine with waiting, with taking it slow – he was actually quite the expert at that, having once satisfied himself with just buying her the occasional bag of potato chips from the vending machine.  So he could sit here and play go fish with her for weeks, months, years…. 

She nodded an idea beginning to dawn. “Yeah, you’re right.  I guess you should go.” 

He nodded soberly and they stood, she heading over to the sofa, where he’d tossed his jacket earlier.  She was wondering how long it was going to take him to realize that his car wasn’t there.  

She walked him to the door, and he smiled down at her, so tall his head almost touched the door frame as he rested one arm on top of it.  She couldn’t help but think, a small smile on her lips, Climb you like a tree indeed…. 

“Pam….” His expression was so serious, so earnest.  Then he smiled. “It sounds trite, I know, to say that I had a great time tonight, but really…” 

She smiled up at him, almost feeling guilty at how she was deliberately setting him up, but she knew he’d appreciate it once he finally figured it out. So she touched his arm gently, then pulled her hand back quickly, having figured out some hours before that if they were indeed going to take this slow, she could not be touching him. 

“Pam….” Just the sound of her name on his lips made him smile. “It sounds trite, I know, to say that I had a great time tonight, but really…” 

She noticed that he had his keys in his hand, and despite her will to remain serious, she burst out laughing.  She laughed so hard that she had to bend at her waist, trying to catch her breath. 

He wondered if he’d missed something. “What’s so funny?” 

“Oh nothing…” She stood back up, her hand passing over her lips for a second.  “Just go.  Get in your car and go.” 

She burst out laughing again, making an odd snorting sound through her nose, and even to herself, she sounded like Michael when he thought he’d made a particularly great joke. 

It was then that Jim realized what she was up to. “Very nice, Beesley. Very nice.  Do you have any idea how frighteningly like Michael you sound when you snicker like that?”  

What he’d said seemed to crack her up even more, as she’d made her way to the couch, falling on it and laughing hysterically.  He loved seeing her so free, so happy.  

He sat down next to her, struggling to look serious, to sound offended. “What, so that was your plan? To get me trapped over here?  I have no car, no way to get home?”  

She sobered at his words, her face still glowing from her laughter. “Oh man…this means that I have to drive you back to your car.”

“Wow.” He pulled back a bit, as if completely offended and shocked. “Pam, if you keep this up, I’m calling your mom.” 

She smiled at him, but it was obvious that she was distracted by something else.  She seemed to be contemplating something, mulling something over…. 

He waited patiently for a second, then she said hesitantly, “Okay, so this will sound really awful, but I’ll go ahead and say that I don’t mean it this way—“

He couldn’t resist, shaking his head at her in disapproval. “No, I will not dance for you for money. I told you not to ask me again.” 

She rewarded him with a flying sofa cushion to his chest. What she said next at first shocked him, but then delighted him. 

“Seriously, though…do you want to stay?  Like…like a slumber party?” She looked shy, a little embarrassed.

 Strangely, the idea had crossed his mind as well – not in so many words (“slumber party” hadn’t been in his lexicon since he was ten) – but he’d so wanted to ask her if he could stay, sleep on the couch, just because he wasn’t ready to let her go for the night just yet.    

But again, he couldn’t resist the urge to tease her a little.  “Well I don’t know.  What does a slumber party involve?  Because I always heard there were tickle fights and practice make out sessions, and you said you wanted to take it slow, so…” 

“What you and Dwight do at your slumber parties is your business.” She said smugly. It was hard to pretend to be offended when he was secretly proud of how quick she was, how good at this she was.

“Okay, see now that’s just gross.”  

“You suck.” She retorted. 

He couldn’t keep the surprised smile from breaking out on his face as he shook his head, thinking, Good god, she is so adorable when she says that….   

Then without even thinking, she suddenly blurted, “Hey, so why do you look so shocked whenever I tell you to suck it?” 

All he could do was blink at her for the briefest of pauses, unable to let something that good go by.  “Wow.” 

She shocked him again by flashing him a naughty grin, then whispering, “That’s what she said!” 

“Oh my god!” He immediately exclaimed, taking a step back and pretending to be shocked.  “Okay, you’re starting to scare me now.  Man, Beesley, do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” 

But she wasn’t done yet: “No, but I kissed you with it, and you sure didn’t seem to mind.” 

“Ohhhkay!” He was really caught off guard that she’d mentioned it, because it was the one thing they hadn’t really addressed – the fact that he’d kissed her all those months ago, that she’d kissed him back. 

Just a mention of it was enough to conjure the image in his mind of what it had felt like to have her in his arms, lips on his, fingers in his hair.  Okay, he thought,  so I absolutely can not think about that while we’re in the slow phase.  Can’t handle it.  Wow.  

He could feel her eyes on his face and knew he was blushing, so he laughed and said, “Talking trash now, I see.” 

That cracked her up again – if he hadn’t known better, he’d have sworn she was drunk, but she hadn’t had a thing to drink all night.  The fact that she was happy – no, giddy – just because of him was almost too much.  He’d laughed along with her, partly in reaction to her hysterical laughter, but partly out of pure joy.   

Then he’d suddenly sobered, straightening to give her a dead serious expression before he informed her firmly, “That’s totally inappropriate.  Seriously.”  

She folded her arms at him, staring up at him defiantly. “Then answer the question.” She instructed him. “Why do you make that face whenever I say that?”

He was interested in her reaction – had he ever complimented her right to her face before? - as he told her, “So if I answer this honestly, you’re going to blush.” 

She seemed a little shocked, which he hadn’t expected, but she’d nodded at him, encouraging him to go on.  So he took a breath, then told her, “Because you’re just so damned cute…and that’s like the last thing I ever expect to come out of your mouth.” 

Instead of blushing – which is what he’d fully expected her to do – she exhaled, emitting what sounded an awful lot like a sigh of relief.  And then he realized what it was she thought he’d say.   

When he drew back, it was a genuine reflex, and the surprise in his voice was also very real.  “Wow. You have such a charming image of me, I see.” But he couldn’t keep a straight face. 

She shook her head at him, sighing again, then asked, “So what do you say? Slumber party?” 

Oh yes, he thought, absolutely, practice make out sessions and all….  

He really wanted to stay, but at the same time, he wasn’t entirely sure if it was a good idea, given that she wanted to take things slow.  He didn’t want to rush her, and he didn’t want to put her in a position in which she might rush herself or feel overwhelmed.  He wasn’t entirely sure what she had in mind when she said “slumber party.”  Sleeping in the same bed?  Because he didn’t know if he could handle that – was fairly certain, in fact, that he couldn’t.   

So he said in a serious, quiet voice, “Listen, Pam, you said you wanted to take it slow…” 

To his surprise, her eyes widened and she exclaimed, “Oh my god…what kind of sick slumber parties did you go to when you were a kid?  I am so not planning on doing anything remotely sexual with you!” 

He couldn’t help but tease her.  “Ahh, the words every man wants to hear.”  

She felt guilty for some reason, bearing in mind their past. “Listen, I’m not…telling you that I don’t…” She was frustrated at her inability to articulate the point she was trying to make. “Look, I just have no idea if this is totally stupid or not.  I mean, it’s been a while since I’ve had to negotiate…”      

He was sort of enjoying this, thinking it was kind of fun to see her flustered; it flattered him to know that he could possibly have that effect on her. 

So he gave her an amused smile and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, then saying, “Go on.  Since you’ve had to negotiate…?”   

A blush immediately colored her cheeks and he suddenly felt guilty; he hadn’t realized that she was serious.   So he moved away from the wall, taking a step toward her as he said, “I’m sorry; I’m being awful.  I’m not trying to make this hard for you…honestly.” 

“I know.”  She smiled up at him, but she still seemed to be having a hard time finding the right words.  Then, as if she were forcing herself to just get it out, she said in a tumble of words, “Okay, so I’m just going to say it: Roy’s the only guy I’ve ever been with, so---“  

He was stunned, and before he could stop himself, he said, “Really?”

He hoped she didn’t notice that his voice cracked a little.  It had just been such a shock to hear her say that; for some reason, he’d just assumed she’d had some experience with other men before Roy.  But then, given how long they’d been together, it made sense that she hadn’t; she had only been sixteen when they’d started dating.   

She hesitated, her eyes scanning his expression, gauging his reaction.  “Well…yeah.  Is that bad?” 

Is that bad? He found himself thinking.  Are you actually asking me if it’s bad that you’ve only been with one man?  No, it’s not bad; it just makes me that much more ready to give you everything that I have, to treat you the way you deserve to be treated – the way I know he never treated you.  

In spite of himself, it dawned on him that Roy had probably sucked in bed, as single-minded as he seemed to be.  And then he’d had to stop himself at the realization that he couldn’t wait to make love to her, to hopefully make her feel things she’d never experienced before. 

He forced himself to stammer, “No, no.  Not at all. I just…didn’t realize.” 

She noticed that he was flustered, and so she’d waved her hands, saying, “I meant that I haven’t had to do this whole…navigating what’s okay and what isn’t thing since I was fifteen, so I’m pretty sure the rules are different now.” 

He couldn’t stop smiling as he gazed down at her, a protectiveness rising in him.  All he wanted was to make up to her everything that he was sure she’d missed….all she’d never had. 

He cleared his throat, not trusting his voice not to crack. “Listen, Pam, it’s me.  I mean…I don’t even know what the rules are.”  

For some reason, she’d smirked and raised an eyebrow at him, catching him off guard.   “What?  What was this?” He imitated the face she’d just made. 

“I don’t buy that, Mr. I’ll-just-sweep-right-in-and-charm-the-purse-girl-in-two-minutes-flat and by the way, also seduce a female co-worker from Stamford!” She was grinning at him as he flushed.

He was embarrassed and caught off guard.  Was she implying that he was some sort of Don Juan?  Did she really believe that he’d ever been the kind of guy who just went around effortlessly charming women into bed with him?  Seriously?  

He wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or offended, so he cracked a joke instead.  “Okay, so I don’t know what you presumed about me that day, but I have to tell you that I had no idea you were attracted to Katy; otherwise, I would’ve totally respected you and let you take a shot at her just like Dwight and Michael did.” 

“You are impossible.”  

She glared up at him and he grinned down at her, then said, “Seriously, somehow I was trying to be sweet to you, and you turned it on me.  Not sure how you did that… Really, though, Pam: It’s me; it’s us.  Nothing has to change until you want it to.  Clearly we don’t have a problem falling right into our old…dynamic – which is awesome, by the way.” The silence that fell was wonderful; she grinned at him in a way that told him she completely agreed.

“So if you’re asking me to spend the night, then I accept; you can trust me completely.  Your couch looks incredibly comfortable anyway.  I’ve been eyeing it all night, thinking I might try to steal it, but I’d probably have to enlist Kevin’s help for that one.  Or wait – maybe Creed’s.  Yeah, definitely Creed’s.” The expression that washed over her face was incredible; it was layered with affection and amusement and joy…and something more. 

She stood there smiling at him for a few moments, dying to hug him, but afraid to confuse him.  And then she couldn’t stand it anymore; she skipped toward him and quickly threw her arms around his neck, standing on her tiptoes to reach his shoulders, her hands instinctively twining into the hair that waved at his collar.  His arms quickly went around her, too, holding her close.    

Then she pulled away suddenly, making her way down a small hallway and reaching into a closet, calling out behind her, “Yep.  Freakishly tall.” 

“Nice.” He couldn’t pull off even pretending to be offended; the happiness crept through his voice.

There was a momentary awkwardness when she came back to stand in front of him with an armful of pillows and blankets.  Without thinking, he reached out and took the burden from her.

“So…what now?” He asked her, raising his eyebrows. “We do each other’s hair? Paint our nails or something? Because I don’t know how I feel about that.” 

He watched her as she laughed at him, again feeling so grateful for this amazing chance.  He didn’t care how long he had to wait to really have her; he could live on these small moments forever.  He remembered how wistful he’d always felt on Friday afternoons, hating to see her walk out that door knowing that he wouldn’t see her again until Monday. And now…now he had all night.  Even if she slept in the next room, it would still be more than he’d ever dared to hope for. 

Her voice broke through his thoughts, as she gave him a shy smile.  “I’m not sure.   I’ve never really had a slumber party with a boy before—“ 

At the word “boy,” Jim’s eyes widened, lips smirking a bit.  As she stood there looking up at him, she wished for a second that he’d never kissed her, that she’d never kissed him back, because surely it would have made it easier to maintain a platonic relationship with him if she hadn’t known what a great kisser he was, what it felt like. 

She found herself wondering briefly what he thought about it all – that night, all that had happened. Could he possibly think about it as much as she did? She was dying to ask him, but then thought, no…after all, he’d been with Andi for all those months…. 

He couldn’t help himself; at the word “boy,” his lips had twisted into a slight smirk.  He wanted to say something naughty, but he didn’t dare.  As he watched her face, her eyes getting a faraway glaze, a flush on her cheeks, he realized he apparently didn’t have to say anything naughty; she appeared to have beat him to the punch by thinking something that caused those cheeks to flush.   

He wondered if she’d been this transparent before -  there was just no way she could have been; he wouldn’t have missed these kinds of expressions.  Was it different now because they’d kissed, so she had tangible memories to make her blush this way?  He didn’t care what it was that was responsible for the change in her; he just loved that he could read her so well.  

He knew it would be kind to be discreet and pretend he hadn’t noticed that expression, but he couldn’t resist.  “What? You’ve got the weirdest expression on your face.” 

“I do?” He could see that she was trying to be nonchalant, but she turned an even brighter red, so she failed miserably.   

He was loving this.  “Okay, so you’re going to have to tell me what’s going on.  I’m starting to get self-conscious.  You’re not going to somehow try to take advantage of me while I sleep, are you?”  

“Again, I say: suck it, Halpert.” There was the look on his face again, making her want to clap her hands gleefully.  She refrained.

But then a silence fell between them, leaving them standing there staring at each other.  He felt the attraction, palpable, rising in him, but he couldn’t make himself look away.   

She shook her head then, her eyes roving over his face. “It’s just… This is just a little…” 

Her voice trailed off as if she’d gotten distracted by his lips.  Or maybe it was just that he was distracted by her lips.   

When she didn’t finish after a few seconds, he whispered, “amazing?” 

“Yeah.” Her eyes never left his. “I keep thinking that it should be different – like awkward or something – but it just isn’t.  I just feel really…close to you.” 

He understood exactly what she was feeling, the awe and the happiness; it was overwhelming, this.  So he said, “I know. Me, too.” 

Silence fell then as they stood staring at one another, their smiles having faded.  The expression he wore was so intense that she felt it in the pit of her stomach; she was reminded for a moment of the way he’d gazed at her on the Booze Cruise, that same intensity on his face.  But this time she couldn’t pull her eyes from his; she felt fascinated by the look on his face.  

He watched as her eyes slowly drifted down to his mouth, as if she couldn’t help herself.  Again, he felt that desire swelling, thinking to himself, You have to stop looking at her; turn away so you won’t see her looking at your lips.  My god, why is she so fascinated with my mouth?  Does she know what it does to me when she looks at me this way, hunger all over her? 

He forced himself to say, “Pam…” but he was still unable to tear his eyes from hers.

“Hm?” She sounded wistful, faraway, still staring at him unashamedly. He would’ve smiled, but the intensity held him in thrall. 

“If you want to take it slow, we can’t do this.”  As if to illustrate to her exactly what “this” meant, he deliberately lowered his eyes to her mouth again.   

Then she caught him off guard and – thank god – shattered the tension by exclaiming, “You are so right about that.”

 “Wow.” He burst out laughing, knowing he’d used that word at least a hundred times tonight, but there was just no other that would do; she was killing him. 

So am I going to be able to handle this?  He thought.  Am I going to be able to stay here all night and not give into this?  For that matter, am I going to be able to spend time around her and not touch her, not kiss her, for god knows how long?  Maybe I need to tell her that we just can’t make eye contact.  And she has to wear only the loosest, ugliest clothes she owns.  And she can’t smile at me that way.  Or laugh.  Or look at my lips. Ever.   

Again, her voice interrupted his thoughts. “Okay, so if we’re going to be totally backward about this—“ 

“Backward?” He cut her off, totally lost.  

“Yes, backward.” She looked at him as if it were obvious and simple. “Like, cards are on the table; we’ve kissed—“ 

Okay, he thought, and she can’t keep mentioning the kissing either, because all she has to do is say it, and I’m there in my mind.

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to forget that in the interest of taking it slow, but you seem fairly insistent on bringing it up.” He smiled at her. 

“I know!”  She sounded as delighted and awed as he felt.  He loved feeling this close to her, loved knowing that if he’d wanted to, he could’ve told her that at that moment, he was really praying she wouldn’t look down past his face because the desire was killing him.  

“Yeah, so we’re going to have to come up with some ground rules for a while.” For a second she looked a little shy, hoping that he wouldn’t think she was being stupid.  

He felt his eyebrows raise. This should be fun, he thought. “Ground rules?  …Sounds fair.  Go on.” 

“No kissing.” She couldn’t look at him as she said it, but then her eyes immediately sought his. 

No remembering kissing either, he thought, when you kissed me back, put your hands in my hair.  By the way, did you have any idea what that would do to me? Because let’s just be clear: It has wrecked me, okay?  It has dominated my thoughts more than it possibly should. 

Of course he said none of this out loud, just stood there blinking at her, trying to figure out what to say to that. 

Then: “Obviously.  I’m thinking that if there were…that then we wouldn’t exactly be taking it slow, now would we?  Because if there were…that—“ He paused and gave her another grin. “Then we probably wouldn’t be inclined to take it slow.  Just a guess.” 

It was the closest he’d allow himself to come to giving in to the hyper-masculine need to boast about his own prowess.  He’d never in his life felt even an inkling of temptation to do so, but in the face of her confession that Roy was the only man she’d been with, well…. How could he not be just a little confident that he could really take her places she’d probably never been?

 Jesus…no thinking about that either, what you’d like to do to her…. 

He’d sounded a little too satisfied with himself, so she glared at him, then had announced, “No touching.”  

“Okay – but I mean, if you recall the events of this evening, whenever any touching has gone on, you’ve been the one to initiate it, not me.”

She swatted at him, prompting him to duck, then exclaim, “See!” 

She ignored him and went on. “No…prolonged eye contact.” 

Immediately he nodded in agreement, and before he could stop himself, that running interior monologue that had been echoing in his head became words; he heard himself saying, “Yeah, that gets problematic, doesn’t it?  Because looking at your eyes makes me want to look at your lips, and looking at your lips makes me want to kiss you, and then it’s just all kinds of hard.” 

He realized too late what that had sounded like, and truly, that was not what he meant, regardless of how apropos it might be.  Her eyes grew wider, eyebrows raising.  She could tell by the look on his face that he hadn’t meant to say it that way, and she tried desperately not to laugh.  Then, seeing the embarrassment on his face –he seemed completely flustered – she’d really begun to enjoy the moment, watching him with one eyebrow raised, waiting to see how he’d get himself out of this one.   

He cleared his throat exaggeratedly, then added, “To just stand there, I mean.  I mean it makes it hard to just stand – you know what?  Never mind. No eye contact.  Yes, good call, Beesley, good call.” 

She smiled knowingly at him while he tried to come up with a rule of his own.  And then he settled on one: “No using the perfume or shampoo or whatever it is that you usually wear – what you’ve got on right now.  Can’t handle it.”  

A wave of fascination settled over her face, morphing into satisfaction.  She looked enigmatic and every inch a woman as she said, “Really?”, her tone clearly implying, I’ll have to make a note of that… 

He knew exactly what she was thinking, so he raised an eyebrow at her, gave her the most threatening look he could muster, then said, “Don’t you dare.”

He gave her a look that was meant to intimidate, but instead sent a flutter low in her belly.   

Then he added, “No playing dirty.”  

She was dying to ask him what he’d do to her if she did dare, if she did play dirty….but she refrained.

He paused again, feeling the corners of his mouth pulling slightly as he couldn’t resist adding, “Not yet, anyway.” 

She wanted to act outraged, but his words and the expression on his face had caused her knees to go a little weak.  Just the hint at that other side to him, the side she’d only seen a glimpse of, was enough to peak her curiosity.   

He felt dazed as he stared down at her, then whispered for the hundred and first time, “Wow.” 

“I know.”  He felt that pull to her lips again, so he forced himself to whisper, “I think we’re breaking rule number three.” 

He’d successfully cut through the tension a little bit; she burst out laughing, then actually shook her head, saying, “All right, all right…let’s shake this off, seriously.”  

He nodded in agreement, then her eyes had fallen to his tie, and he could see that her mind was working again.   Then she asked, “Are you completely uncomfortable?  You’ve still got on your tie.” 

He was dying to say, Yes, I am; I’m terribly uncomfortable, and I’m even having difficulty breathing. I think you should take it off for me.  Immediately. 

Instead, he glanced down at it for a second, then said, “Rule number five—“ 

She corrected him. “Four.” 

He shook his head again, then told her, “No, four was that you’re not aloud to wear whatever scent you’ve got on right now, whatever it is you always wear.  Smells like peaches or strawberries or something…good.  It’s just….” He paused with another shake of his head, then went on, proud of himself for maintaining a straight face in light of what he was about to say. “So as I was saying…rule number five: No undressing in front of each other.” 

“Oh my god!” She immediately exclaimed, and he was dying to laugh at her shocked expression, but he forced himself to keep a straight face. 

“No, seriously, Pam.  I mean, yes, the tie is totally uncomfortable, but I just think it’s a bad idea for you to try to con me into taking my clothes off – not to mention that it seems unfair and a little disrespectful to me.  I don’t know.” He paused for dramatic effect, then turned his eyes to the ceiling, pressing his lips together as if he were deep in thought. “Makes me feel cheap somehow.”

 “I hate you.” Odd that it could be so…delicious to hear her say those words, only because he was so certain that she was feeling just the opposite as she stood there trying not to smile at him.   

He knew better, but he couldn’t stop himself from holding eye contact with her for a second, then very slowly and pointedly dropping his gaze to her lips before he said in a low voice, “I don’t believe that.” 

Oh my god, she thought. Why did I say I want to take this slow? Because if he looks at me like this one more time, if he uses that…that voice one more time, I swear I will just tackle him. 

She seemed unable to speak for a second, then she said, “Rule number six: no using that voice.” 

Again he thought, Wow.  He knew as he stood there staring at her that he’d probably never get over the fact – much less truly believe it – that he could affect her in much the same way that she’d been affecting him for years. 

He tried not to smile, but couldn’t keep the grin from his face. “Agreed.” 

“Okay, so seriously,” She gestured at his tie with her head. “I’m putting on my pajamas, so it’s really okay if you want to take off your tie, get more comfortable.  Just don’t strip down or anything.” 

With that, she was on the way to her bedroom.  He couldn’t resist calling after her, “This isn’t your attempt at reverse psychology, is it?  Because it’s not going to work!”

He heard her muffled laughter as the door shut behind her.  For a split second, he just stood there in her living room grinning to himself like an idiot.  Then he’d realized that just beyond that door, she was changing clothes.  He almost felt guilty at how badly he wanted to go and knock on her door, push it open, just to see her…. 

He’d had to shake his head, forcing those images from his mind as he loosened his tie, then unbuttoned his shirt.  As he slipped his shirt off his shoulders, wearing a tank top undershirt beneath, he found himself wondering what she’d come out wearing.  He thought for one split second of the possibility that she’d be very, very mean and walk out of her room wearing something sexy – maybe a little nightgown, or just her bra and panties… 

I have got to get a grip, he thought.  Thank god we have rules.  But then it dawned on him why it was that they had rules: Because she felt it, too; because she wanted him, but she wanted to take it slow, so she’d asked him not to do the things that apparently made her want him.  Oh my god. She wants me. Unbelievable. I can’t handle even thinking about those godforsaken rules, because just knowing why we have to have them…. 

She made sure to put on pajamas that were the farthest thing from provocative (sweatpants and a tanktop from Halloween that said “Boo” on the front in sequins – leaving her bra on, of course).  She felt the momentary urge to put on a short little nightie just to see the look on his face, but of course she didn’t.

She came out ten minutes later, having washed her face and put her hair in a ponytail. When her eyes rested on him, she had to really concentrate on continuing to put one foot in front of the other. He was sitting on the sofa, smiling a little shyly at her, having discarded his button down shirt and tie, wearing a white tank top undershirt, the blanket covering from his waist down.  His chest and shoulders were broader than she’d expected; the hair on his chest surprised her, made him seem even more masculine, sexy.  Holy god, she thought. I am so not going to be able to handle this… 

Even though he’d been prepared to steel himself against the attraction he’d feel at the sight of her, one look at her shirt prompted him to burst out laughing as he actually clapped his hands in delight.  She wore a white ribbed tank – much like his own – but hers said “Boo” on the front of it in sequins. 

It was, he realized, quite possibly the funniest thing he’d ever seen; it was just so unexpected, so random.  

“What?” She asked him, obviously feeling self-conscious. 

He pointed at her shirt, then asked incredulously, “Boo?” 

He actually had to cover his mouth with his hand, feeling the need to laugh even harder when she asked indignantly, “What is so funny about that?  You’re wearing a tank top very similar to this one, may I point out.” 

“Yeah,” He looked down at his own plain white tank top. “But mine’s just a wife beater – yours says ‘boo’ on the front.  In sequins.” 

He started to laugh again at the absurdity of it, wondering how her wearing that little tank top could possibly make him love her more, but somehow it just did.  

But she wasn’t having it. “I got it on sale for $3 after Halloween at Old Navy.  As a matter of fact,” Oh god, he thought, she is so adorable when she puts her hands on her hips like that and tries to look defiant, “I actually bought three of them, thank you very much.” 

For some reason, that had made him laugh even harder, though he was secretly delighted; he knew that just because of this night, he’d always, always have a soft spot for the “boo” tank tops. 

And then as his laughter died down, he found himself just gazing at her softly, taking her in. He was grateful for a brief moment that she’d worn a bra with the tank top; at least she really wasn’t going to play dirty, thank god, because she’d have won, hands down. 

Even as he thought that, he noticed that her eyes fell to his shoulders, lingering on his chest.  There was something in her expression that he recognized, only because it was a reflection of what he himself had felt too, too many times.  Again, there was a swell of desire in him as he tried to distract himself.    

So he did what he’d learned worked when the tension got bad – something he suspected he’d better get used to doing, if they were ever going to successfully take it slow – he cracked a joke. 

“I still have my pants on – just so you know.” He informed her.

It took her a second to snap out of it, then she had given an exaggerated sigh of relief, saying, “Well thank god for that.” 

He rolled his eyes at her, then said, “I thought of another rule while you were in the bedroom.”  

“Let’s hear it.” 

He looked her in the eye, smiling quietly. “No more acknowledging the rules and why we have to have them.” He paused, ignoring the urge to look down at her lips. “Turns out that I can’t handle that either.” 

“Deal.” She smiled up at him, then said, “So…a movie?” 

They hadn’t watched an actual movie, but had just flipped through the channels randomly, watching late night television, silent and lost in their own thoughts.  After half an hour, she’d stood to flip off the lights, leaving them in complete darkness but for the bluish glare of the TV screen as it flickered on the walls, on her face when he glanced over at her.  She was curled up on one corner of the couch, her legs tucked behind her, while he sat at the other end, his long legs resting on her coffee table. 

He had forgotten himself, and as he’d gotten drowsy, had let his hand fall to rest on her ankle, rubbing it absently.  Then she’d raised her head sleepily, not saying anything but just giving him the look that he’d grown to recognize and secretly love: Can’t handle that, Halpert; you’re making it difficult.  

He’d smiled softly at her, raising his hand and dropping it in his lap, unable to keep the smile from his lips.  It was amazing to just sit there with her in silence; he knew without asking that she was doing the same thing that he was: just thinking, marveling at it all, at this night, at how lucky they were to discover this, how exciting it was to think of exploring it. 

He fell asleep thinking of all the places that he wanted to take her now that they could actually spend time together outside of work, of all the things he wanted to do with her: Take her to a romantic restaurant, make dinner for her himself, go to the museum, the zoo….  

She woken up at some point in the middle of the night, disoriented for a moment, then feeling the realization rush over her of where she was, what had happened.  It was such a different feeling than she’d been experiencing for so many months now, when sleep had been the only respite from feeling overwrought, when it had been hard to wake up to the awareness of what her life had become.  To wake up and look across to see Jim sound asleep -- head against the arm rest, legs stretched out in front of him, one of his hands having found its way back to her foot -- made a peace steal over her.   

She fought the urge to reach out and touch him, though for a second, she’d had the crazy impulse to wake him gently, take him by the hand, lead him down the hall to her bedroom, climb into her bed, and lay her head on his chest.  But she knew full well where that would lead, so she simply rested her head back against the sofa cushion, watching him sleep and feeling a contentment like nothing she’d ever felt before.  It was strange – a centeredness, a tranquility.  It was the best feeling, comforting enough to send her right back into sleep.  

When he woke up the next morning, he’d looked around, trying to get a handle on his surroundings, and then it had all come rushing back to him, washing over him and bringing with it a surge of pure joy.   She was still asleep, curled against the other side of the couch, looking so peaceful, her back rising and falling with her steady breaths. 

He wanted more than anything to crawl up next to her, to stretch out and pull her close to his chest, but he didn’t; instead, he just sat there watching her, caught off guard by the tears he felt rising in his eyes, blurring the sleeping image of her.   The emotion swelled in him again at the sight of her, this woman that he’d loved for so long; it was unbelievable that she was almost his…that he could take care of her, treat her the way he’d always wanted to treat her, make up to her for all the times when Roy disappointed her.  He was overwhelmed, felt dizzy at the thought of all the things he wanted to do for her.   

Her eyes fluttered open a few minutes later.  He left his head leaning against the sofa, gazing at her, unable to shake the tenderness; it seeped into his voice when he said, “Hi.”             

She was reminded for an instant of that day when the Jinx had finally ended, when it had taken everything in her not to just kiss him full on the lips when he’d looked up at her with that same warm smile, saying in the same tone that he did now, “Hi.” 

In spite of herself, she sat up suddenly, shaking her head as she said, “Don’t do that!” 

It wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting…but he didn’t feel devastated or anxious or anything other than just content, in his element, secure in where he was, made confident by the warmth in her eyes when she looked at him. 

“Don’t do what?” He looked surprised.  His hair was disheveled, and she noticed that stubble covered his jaw, which made her honest to god feel a little light-headed for just a second.  She found herself wishing for a second that he was wearing one of those ugly old man undershirts instead of that white tank top that made her want to run her hand along his shoulders.    

He noticed that she seemed to be taking in the stubble that covered his jaw.  For a second, he wished he had a razor; he didn’t know how she felt about facial hair – though Andi had never commented on it, Katy had absolutely hated it, had insisted that he shave later in the day if they were going out. He felt briefly guilty at how much he loved the fact that Katy was such a distant memory, that Pam was now his reality.  

She shook her head in answer to his question, pulling her eyes from his face for just a second and saying, “Nothing.” 

Despite herself, though, her eyes wandered back to his face, amazed at how different he looked with just that tiny bit of stubble – sexy, masculine…maybe a little dangerous.  

He couldn’t stop himself – she seemed to be staring at the stubble on his face, making him self conscious – so he said, “I’m sorry – do you hate the scruffiness?” 

She looked surprised by the question, blurting out almost indignantly, “Why would I hate the scruffiness?” 

He felt a little embarrassed, then said cautiously, “I just…. Katy hated it, so I was worried that….” 

Katy hated it? She thought. Of course Katy hated it; Katy used to be a cheerleader, for crying out loud!  Katy was totally unworthy of you – what the hell does Katy know? 

She’d forgotten how much she hated Katy, how wrong she’d always seemed for him.  The strangest expression flickered across her face as he watched her – jealousy, indignation, possession - then she immediately exclaimed, “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!  How could she hate it?  It’s so ---“  

And then she’d caught herself, shutting her mouth, looking sheepish, thinking, stop talking Pam. 

“It’s so what?” He asked, smiling down at her, having thoroughly enjoyed both the vehemence as well as the content of her tirade.  She shook her head shyly, but he wasn’t letting her off the hook. 

He pestered her until she grudgingly said, glaring at him in a way that he found totally disarming, “It’s very…nice.” 

“Nice?” He repeated, sounding indignant.

“Masculine.” She said.  Then, a wicked little smile pulling at her lips: “Sexy.”  

Oh god, He thought. Don’t do this to me this early in the morning; I can’t handle it….  Note to self: Never shave again.  

He was silent for a few moments, desperately trying to collect himself.  Then he announced smugly, “So, apparently you snore.” 

“No I don’t!” She was immediately indignant, and he loved it. 

He crossed his arms at her, cocked his head, then asked, “Well…how would you know?  I mean, if you’re asleep when you do it, then how would you be aware of whether you’re doing it or not?” 

She pretended to glare at him, but he could see the color in her cheeks, the light in her eyes, even though she grouched, “Are you always this cheerful in the morning?”  

“Sometimes.” He gave her an angelic smile. “Depends on the morning.  Sometimes I’m a real bastard.  Other times, I can truly be an absolute delight.” 

He smiled, sitting back to watch her as she laughed right out loud, then asked him, “So can I interest you in cereal?” 

He pretended to be offended. “Cereal? Seriously? Wow, Pam….  Where is your mom’s phone number?” 

She gave him a dirty look, then wagged a finger at him. “You’re starting to make me worry about this fixation you have with calling my mother.” 

He suddenly remembered that day her mother had come to the office, how he’d felt like such an ass because he’d been excited all day to meet her.  Then just as he’d gone up to introduce himself, Roy had come in the doors, leaving him nothing to do but take a jellybean and return to his desk.  But after Roy had gone, he’d heard her mother whisper conspiratorially, “Now, which one is Jim?” He’d smiled at that, but his smile had grown even wider at Pam’s reaction, which gave so much away – she’d exclaimed, “Mom!” sounding for all the world like an embarrassed teenager with a crush.

So he smiled across the sofa at her, then informed her. “Oh, it’s okay; I know she’d be glad to talk to me.” 

“I beg your pardon?” She did a horrible job of pretending not to know what he was talking about.  

He gleefully cleared his throat, then said, unable to suppress a smile, “Well she did ask that day she came by, ‘Which one is Jim?’” 

Pam felt the blush sweep over her, wishing she’d never been cursed with that particularly heinous trait – it was like hanging a sign on your forehead that says, “I’m embarrassed because you know something about me that I wish you didn’t!”

Blushing was like cool’s kryptonite.

In a feeble attempt to change the subject, she said, “I think you just broke a rule.” 

“No, you did.” He retorted.

“How did I break one?” She asked him, a smile pulling at her lips.  

“Um, Pam, I believe the last rule was that we were not to acknowledge the rules.  It’s like a Fight Club thing.” 

She stood, shaking her head, then said, “You suck, Halpert.” 

He laughed, calling out after her, “In spite of that comment, I’m taking you out to breakfast!”

From that point forward, they started spending time together outside of work, and their slumber parties became a weekend ritual, though they alternated apartments.  Jim was a perfect gentleman, just as she knew he would be (and truth be told, it frustrated her sometimes that he could be so controlled…though she was looking forward to making him lose it one day), and she, in turn, basked in just spending time around him. 

They stayed away from doing anything that would be too overly romantic, and without even really talking about it, they decided that they wouldn’t venture out together on any “real” dates until they decided to take the leap fully.   

So they stayed in, oftentimes making dinner together at his apartment or hers, having discovered that they shared a mutual love of cooking.  But they kept it light; no candlelit dinners, nothing that might somehow make the tension that lingered just beneath the surface bubble over.   

She wondered sometimes why she was torturing herself – and him – by being so hesitant about really taking the next step.  As she sat on her bed late one Sunday afternoon, watching him while he hammered nails into her wall, hanging a small shelf for her, she found herself musing at how incredibly attractive he was. 

She took advantage of the fact that he was distracted with the task at hand, allowing her eyes to rest on him, taking him in, silently appreciating him. He was wearing an old pair of faded jeans with a tee-shirt that looked well-worn, the collar stretched and fraying.  She could just barely see the hair on his chest peeking out of the collar of the shirt, and it made her hungry suddenly to see him with his shirt off.   

His hair was shorter now than it had been in the past, but it still curled at his collar, which she’d always loved; it was damn near impossible to really look at him for an extended period of time without wanting to run her fingers through those tousled waves.  She remembered the night that he’d kissed her, how soft his hair had felt beneath her fingers. 

She took in his profile, his brow furrowed, lips tight around the two nails sticking out of his mouth.  She often mused that his jaw was one of her favorite parts of him – strong, defined, and ever since she’d let it slip that she found stubble irresistible, he’d immediately stopped shaving every day.  It was all she could do sometimes to look at his jaw darkened by that masculine stubble and not just press her lips on his.  

He reached up and took one of the nails out of his mouth, positioning it carefully against the wall as she watched his long, graceful fingers, thinking, No, maybe his hands are my favorite part….  Even as the thought crossed her mind, he raised the hammer, hitting the nail hard a few times, the sinewy muscle in his forearm tensing.  No, she thought, the forearms are the best…definitely.  

It occurred to her as she watched him that she’d never before appreciated a man’s physique the way that she did with him.  She’d found Roy attractive, of course, but she had never found herself distracted by him at the strangest moments – when he was hanging a shelf, for example, or spreading cream cheese on a bagel….  

With Jim, sometimes even his simplest actions struck her as flat-out erotic, driving her to distraction, and the best part of all was that he was delightfully oblivious.  She knew if she’d told him, he’d have laughed, blushed.  

She could remember when she’d first met him, how she’d immediately found him attractive, thought he was a cute guy in a funny, unassuming way.  But when she looked at him now, it seemed that he had changed so much since then, somewhere along the way having shed the last of that boyishness, a startling masculinity in its place.  She wondered sometimes what was responsible for the change; was it that she was in love with him now?  Was it that he was more confident now, more sure of himself? Or was it just that he was just getting sexier as he got older?  

The thought made her smile to herself, thinking, god help me if he’s just going to keep getting better and better looking….

“Hey.” He was looking at her, his eyes scanning her face. "What?” 

“Oh, nothing.” She shook her head, blinking rapidly, feeling bit of a flush on her cheeks.

 “Come on, Beesley; spill it.” He laid the hammer down on her dresser, propping one hand on top of the doorframe as he leaned against it.   She could’ve sworn he was reading her mind; she loved it when he leaned against the doorframe like that, or against her desk…. 

“Seriously, it’s….nothing.” She couldn’t wipe the smile from her lips, and one of his eyebrows raised.  

“You know, you should be very grateful for those rules.” He told her. 

“Oh?” Her eyebrows raised as she contemplated telling him that if it weren’t for those rules, she’d have taken that hammer out of his hand fifteen minutes ago, would’ve taken great pleasure in appreciating his body in a less visual and a more…tangible fashion. 

“Absolutely.” He said. “Because if it weren’t for those rules, I would tickle you right now until you spilled whatever it is that’s making you smile like that.” 

“Then it’s a good thing we’ve got those rules, isn’t it?” She asked, smiling enigmatically at him. He felt something in the pit of his stomach weaken at the sight of her sitting there on her bed, looking up at him with that smile that held so much promise. 

He’d noticed the subtlest change in her expression lately when she looked at him; a small smile would pull at her lips, as if she were aware that she was slowly bringing him to his knees with her rules and her laugh and her scent…. 

He wondered sometimes if he’d be able to stand it much longer; the only thing that held him in check was the fact that she’d asked him for time, had wanted to take it slow, and he wasn’t about to pressure her or push her….no matter how much he wanted to sometimes. And as much as he sometimes hated those godforsaken rules, he had to admit to himself that it was a good thing they’d instituted them, because it was hard enough to keep his hands off her even with all the self-imposed limitations; he suspected they wouldn’t have lasted a day if they hadn’t identified the things that would get them into trouble right away and made those things off limits.                        

This wasn’t to say that they didn’t slip sometimes, and they were always quick to call each other out on it if the other violated a rule.  Jim, in particular, enjoyed correcting her for slipping up.  

One evening when they were in his kitchen making dinner - he slicing vegetables, she flouring chicken - she'd needed to open the drawer that he was standing in front of.  So without thinking, she'd come up behind him, taking hold of one of his belt loops and playfully tugging him out of the way.

“Hey now, Beesley…watch it.” He raised his eyebrows at her, giving her a stern look, although he couldn't help but think to himself, Who am I kidding?  She can grab me by the belt loops anytime....

“What?” She asked, grinning at him.

“That was a serious rule two infraction there.” He informed her.

“Oh shut up.” She rolled her eyes at him, but he pretended to be serious.

“No, Pam… I mean,” He sighed dramatically, looking up at the ceiling. “If I let that go, then it’ll be a slippery slope from there.”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow at him, folding her arms over her chest and leaning back against the kitchen counter in anticipation of whatever gem he’d come up with. 

“Yes, it’s serious business.” He shook his head, then, “I mean, first it’ll be tugging on my belt loops, but the next thing you know, you’ll be doing really outrageous things….like trying to kiss me, maybe….”

He raised his eyebrows, his eyes wide, lips twisted in one of his trademark faces.

But she wasn't about to let him get away with that one; she tilted her head at him, gazing up at him innocently, then saying with a little sigh, "Well, if I were to be so naughty as to do something like that, I guess you'd just have to...punish me accordingly."

He looked like he couldn't breathe for a second, actually gulped loudly while she laughed, then said, "Jesus, Beesley....you win. Wow."

Six weeks after their first slumber party, they were again at her apartment, having cooked dinner together; now they were sitting on the floor, Jim with his back against the couch, Pam sitting just opposite of him.  They were drinking wine tonight, which wasn’t something they made a habit of…for obvious reasons. 

When they’d gone to the grocery store earlier to get the ingredients for the pasta dish they were making that night, Pam had nonchalantly picked up the wine and put it in their buggy.

 “Beesley….” He’d warned, hunched over the buggy, glancing sideways at her.

 “What?” She asked innocently. 

“The wine….?” He nodded briefly at the bottle nestled in the front part of the buggy. 

“What about it?” She pretended not to know what he was getting at, when in all actuality, she was rather enjoying making him say it.  Because what he didn’t know – and what she (dear god) so deliciously did was that she was through with the rules tonight; she couldn’t take it anymore.  

“Do you really think that’s the best idea?” He asked, giving her a sincere expression for a moment. She loved it that he took her needs so seriously; all kidding aside, she knew it hadn’t been easy for him these past six weeks, but he’d been so good, taking care not to do anything that might make her feel rushed or impulsive. 

Of course, what he didn’t realize was that sometimes just the sight of him made her want to rush and be impulsive. 

“Why would it not be a good idea?” She asked, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips, wanting to put him on the spot just to see what he’d say.   

He realized then what she was up to, so he said, “Well, I just…. I know how you get when you drink – I don’t think I even need to remind you about the Dundies two years ago, do I? – and I just don’t want you to….get me drunk and then try to take advantage of me.” 

“Suck it, Halpert.” Then she stood on her tiptoes, leaned close to his ear and whispered, “And by the way – you should only be so lucky.”  

She strolled away from him, leaving him staring at her, mouth slightly agape. 

When he caught up to her, he murmured in a low voice, “That was just mean.” 

But she’d won: The wine had stayed in the buggy, and she was enjoying the sight of him sitting across from her now, his long legs stretched out in front of him, wine glass in his hand as he grinned at her.   

They’d been laughing together about Michael’s over the top devotion to Carol, engaging in a debate about who seemed more smitten: Michael or Bob Vance. Jim had won the argument hands down when he’d suddenly exclaimed, “Kelly!” 

Pam shook her head, laughing at the memory of the expression that always came over Ryan’s face whenever Kelly was near him; it was utter and complete mortification.  The fact that Ryan somehow still hadn’t been able to bring himself to put an end to his relationship with Kelly was a source of amusement for both Jim and Pam. 

“I think he likes her more than he wants to admit.” Jim said, then shook his head, adding, “I just wish she’d get a clue and stop being so clingy!  He’d probably morph into Bob Vance right before our eyes if she’d just give him some breathing room.” 

They’d laughed for a while at the image of Ryan suddenly falling effusively over Kelly.  

Then a comfortable silence had fallen, but as it stretched a bit, Jim felt that old familiar stirring that he’d grown so used to trying to ignore.  The silences were the worst, the air thick with everything that hung between them.  

Then she’d suddenly said, “I know! Let’s play ‘Truth or Dare’.” 

He felt something in his stomach weaken as he thought, oh my god…. 

“Are you serious?” He asked her.  

“Sure, why not?” She countered, smiling primly at him. 

“That is just not a good idea at all.” He said, then, “Well actually, it’s a damn good idea, but I don’t think we could play the way that we’d want to and still observe our rules.”  

It was the one of the bolder thing he’d said to her since they’d instituted said rules, and she felt her stomach tighten. 

“Fair enough.” She said, then, a wicked little gleam in her eye, “Let’s play ‘Who Would You do: The Would You Rather?’ version instead then.” 

“What?” He asked, shaking his head at her.  “How much wine have you had, Beesley? Those are two separate games.” 

“I know.” She grinned at him, “But it’s really fun to combine them.” 

He smiled at her, taking in the glow on her cheeks, then said, “All right – you start, because I’m not entirely sure how this even works.” 

“Okay." She thought for a second. "Would you rather have sex with Kelly or Angela?"

"Oh my god." He could only stare at her, shaking his head as he said, "You are a sick woman, Beesley."

"And you are a big fat sissy." She laughed when he raised his eyebrows at her. "Quit stalling, Halpert, and answer the question."

"Well, let me think about this for a second...." He put a hand on his chin, rubbing it thoughtfully. "Angela's so uptight that she might just be a hellcat, but then, Kelly would probably, like, make me breafast or something and send me flowers the next day, so...."

Pam laughed at him, shaking her head as he finished, "Gonna have to go with Kelly, on the basis of the promise of flowers and food alone."

He grinned at her, and she found herself thinking that he always managed to say just the right thing, even when they were just being silly; he was always careful of her feelings, careful not to belittle her the way Roy so often had.  

"All right, Beesley." He rubbed his hands together. "Would you rather sleep with....Creed--"

"Ohhhh!" She exclaimed, but he held up a hand, silencing her.

"--or Dwight?"

"Ew, ew, ew, ew...." She was shaking her hands, and he threw back his head and laughed when she whispered, "Do I have to pick one?"

"Hey, you made me, so...." He raised his eyebrows.

"Well, okay...." She thought about it. "Even though I would be scarred for life, I'd have to go with Dwight, because Creed smells really, really bad."

"I know - what is that?" Jim asked, laughing with her. 

They laughed together for a few seconds, then their laughter slowly died, eyes meeting. 

Jim shifted to lean back against the couch, smiling at her as he took in the glow on her face, the way her eyes danced.  As she looked across at him, she found herself reminded of Casino Night when they’d played cards, and he’d gazed at her in much the same way, just open adoration all over his face.  The expression made her want to lean over and kiss him full on the lips, just as it had on that night more than six months before. 

“What are you thinking right now?” He suddenly asked her, his eyes affectionately taking in her expression; she'd looked so wistful, so happy. 

She felt her stomach tighten, caught off guard at the directness of the question, then, unable to help herself, she whispered, “I’m thinking that right now, what I want more than anything is to kiss you.” 

His breath caught slightly at what she’d said -- he had not expected that -- and he wasn’t sure what he should make of that.  Was she telling him she was ready to throw out the rules? 

He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything, just sat there staring at her, caught in a daze, watching as she shifted, raising up on her knees to slowly crawl toward where he was sitting.  He watched her, his chest rising and falling as his breaths came a little faster.  

When her lips touched his, he moaned in spite of himself, putting his hands on her face, feeling her tongue touch his for the first time, her hands somewhere in his hair. She felt a tremor down her spine; his lips were so soft, and his tongue tasted like wine.   

She felt impatient, wanting to be closer to him, so she shifted, suddenly halfway in his lap, their lips parting, then meeting again.  He pulled her closer to him, causing her to end up falling forward slightly; the only way she could keep her balance was by straddling him, so she did, feeling him hard against her when her hips rested against his.  

He pulled back then, breathing heavily as he gazed up at her, smoothing the hair from her eyes; she, in turn, hovered above him, one hand trailing his cheek.  His eyes were glazed, his expression serious as his eyes searched hers. 

“Pam….are you okay with this?” He asked.  She smiled softly at him, nodding.   He took a breath, then said, “Listen, we need to figure out --- I mean, this is going to…get intense pretty quickly, and I don’t want to push you or –“ 

She put a finger to his lips, tilting her head as she gazed at him, taking in his familiar features.  She wanted to tell him that she knew he’d never push her, because he seemed to intuit her needs without her even having to articulate them; she wanted to tell him that she wasn’t afraid anymore, that she was ready for this, for all of it…for all of him. 

She wanted to tell him that she was hearing those same words echoing again in her head that she’d written in the email that day when they’d finally found their way back to each other: I need you so much closer.

But instead, she simply said, “I want this…and I’m in love with you.” 

She watched as his head dropped to the side just a little, his whole expression softening; the look on his face was so moved, so full of emotion that she felt the tears sting her eyes.  She could see that he was struggling to find words, that she’d caught him off guard entirely.  

Then, almost as if he hadn’t intended for it to happen, he whispered fervently, “God, I’m so in love with you.” 

Even though he’d said it on Casino Night, hearing those words still sent a chill right through her, made the breath catch in her throat. 

“That’s good to hear.” She smiled raising a hand that trembled a little to smooth the hair from his forehead. “Because I do…  I just…fucking love you so much….” 

There was a slight tremor in her voice; she blushed for a second at the language she’d used – had she ever said fuck in front of him before?  But he started to shake his head slowly, as if it were just too much. When he looked up at her again, his eyes seemed darker, more intense as he looked at her hard for a moment, searching her expression to try to gauge what she wanted.  

He paused for a split second, then slowly pulled her down closer to him, his lips meeting hers, moving to trail from her neck down to her shoulder as she let her head fall back, giving in completely.  It was almost agonizing, but at the same time, it was…heady and wonderful in the promise of what lay ahead.  The knowledge that there was no stopping them anymore made her feel almost as dizzy as his lips did. 

In some corner of her mind, she couldn’t believe that she’d managed to spend all these hours with him without giving in to this, because it was nothing short of intoxicating, addictive. The memories of that night would distract her for a long time, she knew.  

The expression on his face when he’d nudged her tee shirt up, when she’d raised to a sitting position so she could take it off, throwing it absently over her head.  She’d had to immediately lie back again, her legs trembling so much that she couldn’t keep her balance.  She was momentarily grateful that she’d worn a black, lacy bra. 

He’d gazed down at her, an utterly mesmerized expression on his face as he whispered, “My god…you are so beautiful…” 

But she was impatient.  She pushed at his shirt, shoving it up over his chest, while he readily complied with her silent demand, lifting his arms and pulling it off, tossing it over his head to land somewhere behind him.  The sight of him bare chested – shoulders wide, dark hair covering his chest, that small line of dark hair traveling from his navel to the waistband of his jeans – she felt hypnotized. 

A part of her couldn’t believe this was happening. She didn’t remember exactly at what point his arm had slipped beneath her legs and he’d lifted her, carrying her to her bedroom; she only remembered feeling as if she’d completely swoon at the gesture, because it was so like one of the men in the fairytales she’d read as a child.  As he laid her back on her bed carefully, falling to rest on his elbows above her, his eyes glazed slightly, his breathing shallow, she heard that all-too truthful voice in her head: Some fairytales do come true. 

He had moved slowly, deliberately, kissing her everywhere, seeming as though he were appreciating some great work of art in her body; she’d run her hand along his broad shoulders, touching his chest, trailing her hand down that line of hair from his navel, further down. 

She’d traced his jaw line, loving the way he just let her when she pushed his jaw to the side slightly, tilting his head a little, his neck so taut she could see the vein in it throbbing.  

It felt surreal; she was never unaware that this was Jim, her best friend; for all the weeks that they’d been so good, so chaste, faithfully observing their rules, she’d worried sometimes at the sheer lust that she felt for him, worried because she didn’t want this relationship to ever become only about sex.  But there in her room, seeing the way he looked at her, so reverently, she realized that this was about finally expressing what she felt for him – and he was clearly doing the same – after so many months, years, of pretending there was nothing there.  She understood in those moments what it was like to feel so much that there was nothing left to do but touch each other, just no other way to really express it.    

At some point, he’d pulled her pajama bottoms off of her, throwing them to the floor as her hand reached for the snap on his jeans, prompting him to moan softly.  Soon they were naked, tangled up in one another, sweat from their bodies making them slightly sticky, the room filled with the sound of their breathing.        

Then he’d paused, raising himself on his arms above her, his hair slightly damp as he whispered, “Are you sure?” 

For some reason, the fact that he’d asked made her want him even more.   “Yes.” She whispered back, smiling a little as he lowered his mouth to her lips. 

His lips never left hers as he slowly pushed inside of her, filling her completely.  When she gasped, he whispered softly in her ear, “Are you okay?” 

All she’d been able to do was nod, overwhelmed at everything that was happening. He’d been so gentle, so cautious, moving slowly at first, never turning his attention from her and what she was feeling, what she needed.  And god, he knew what he was doing; he knew when to move faster, just where to kiss her neck, his breath in her ear catching as he whispered, “I love you…” 

It was so much more than anything she’d ever experienced – the way he was moving, the way he’d touched her, his lips on hers, on her neck, that low voice in her ear – this was what making love really was.  This was what she’d never felt before, missing out on it without even knowing it.    

Despite herself, she hadn’t been able to keep the tears from streaking her cheeks when it was over, tremors still shaking her; she felt like she could’ve just drowned in him, disappeared entirely in him – in his eyes, his lips, his body. He’d held her close, feeling the wet tears on her cheeks.  She loved the feeling of her breasts pushed against his bare chest, one of his long legs wrapped around hers. 

“Shh…” He whispered into her hair.  “What is it…?” 

She couldn’t say anything, was momentarily mortified at how ridiculous it was of her to have actually cried the first time they’d had sex.  But Jim looked moved, his eyes softening as they rested on the tears that covered her cheeks. 

Unable to say anything, she’d simply pulled back a little, tracing her finger over his face, feeling that masculine stubble she loved so much.  “Nothing. I swear, I never used to cry this much.” 

She was met with dead silence, and she suddenly realized what that had sounded like.  When she glanced at him, he was looking at the ceiling, his lips pursed as he tried to look offended, tried to keep from laughing. 

“Oh my god, Jim!” She’d shaken her head, leaning to kiss his neck, then his chest while he feigned indignation.  

“Thanks, Pam….” He sighed, then, “I guess I’ll just have to try a little harder next time.”

Then he flashed her a wicked grin.  She’d shaken her head, laughing out loud at what he’d said, then sobered, her eyes locked to his before she whispered hoarsely, “You’re so…incredible, and I’m so in love with you; it’s just…. ” 

He’d grinned at her, for a split second reminding her of the old Jim, the one she’d pretended to be just friends with.  But at the same time, things were completely changed, and she knew that; she’d never look at him that way again.  She’d always know what it was like to feel him inside of her, to clutch his bare back with her nails, to hear him moan softly in her ear….

“Really?  So it’s not just about the sex?  Because I have to tell you, I’ve got concerns that maybe you might just be using me for sex.” He’d pulled back, propping on one arm to smile at her.  She was surprised that at that moment, she could actually be distracted by the way his bicep looked, but there it was.  

“Well, now that you mention it…” She smiled wickedly at him, then added, “All I can say is that if I had known all this time….” 

He looked surprised, a little embarrassed, but definitely interested. “Go on.  If you’d known what…?” 

Suddenly she felt shy, squirming in his arms, but he wasn’t letting her get away with it.  He tightened his grip on her, pulling her closer playfully against his naked body. “Oh no you don’t!  You can’t just say something like that and then not finish the thought!” 

“Okay, okay.” She playfully shoved at his shoulder, then rested her hand on his bare chest.  “If I had known all this time what you’re…like” (his eyebrows rose again at that, and she could’ve sworn he was blushing), “then I’d have tossed those rules out a long time ago.  Wow.” 

He threw back his head and laughed, seemingly searching for the right words, but failing completely. 

And then, “Well I guess that’s a relief.  How awkward would it have been if you’d hated it?” 

She rolled her eyes at him, then his fingers trailed her face, his expression sobering suddenly. “I have to tell you…obviously, this is something I’ve wanted for a long time – not just this specifically—“ They exchanged a grin. “—but you, us.  And it’s just…exceeded even my wildest hopes.  Seriously. You’re…incredible.” 

His eyes met hers for a long moment, neither of them speaking.  And then she whispered softly, “Yeah…definitely in love with you.”

Again his eyes softened, then he said quietly, “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say that….” 

Silence fell, then she suddenly exclaimed, “Hey!  Let’s take a bath!” 

He raised an eyebrow, looking down at her, asking playfully, “Are you kidding me, Beesley?” 

“I am so serious.” She sat up then, and he smiled when she quickly covered her breasts with the sheet, looking shy for a second.  She clutched the sheet at her collarbone, then shifted, moving off of him to stand next to the bed, taking the sheet with her, almost bouncing on her heels as she said, “A bubble bath, actually!” 

He pretended to groan in exasperation, but he couldn’t pull it off; he was smiling happily at her, watching her back as she went to her bathroom, filling her garden tub with water and something that instantly brought a little foam to the surface.  

“Hey!  What do you think you’re doing?” She demanded when she turned and saw him sliding his boxer shorts on. 

“What?” He drew back, looking at her like she was crazy. 

“You’re not wearing those in the tub, Jim.”  

He laughed, then looked a little embarrassed. “Fair enough, but I’m also not about to just stride right into your bathroom stark naked either.” 

For some reason, she loved it that he was modest; somehow she’d known he would be.  It made her love those moments when he lost control that much more.  

After a brief debate, he made her agree to let him get in the tub first, instructing her to close her eyes, and when he’d slid down into the warm water, he called out for her to open her them.  She couldn’t believe the sight of him sitting in that tub, covered up to his pectoral muscles in bubbles, hair on his chest glistening, his shoulders so broad, knees sticking out of the water because his legs were too long to stretch out.  His hair was tousled and damp, and she noticed a slight scratch mark on one of his shoulders that made her smile and blush.

“Okay, come on in.” He’d folded his arms then, causing the water to gurgle a little with the motion, looking pleased with himself, clearly waiting for her to drop the sheet. 

“Are you kidding me?  What, you get to sit there and look at me naked, but I had to close my eyes when you got in?” She pretended to be incredulous. 

He nodded as if it were the simplest, most common sense thing, then said, “That’s right, yes.  Besides, everybody knows that the female form is a thing of beauty, while the male is…not so much.” 

“Who knows that?” She asked him, then said smoothly, “I beg to differ…. I find your form quite attractive, in fact….” 

He smiled at her, that sweet flattered expression flickering over his face for a second. 

Then he said, a mischievous gleam in his eyes she’d seen before, “Thank you.  I find yours equally so…so much that I would, in fact, very much appreciate it if you’d just drop the sheet and get your ass in here with me.”

She pretended to be shocked at him, and when she saw the satisfied little gleam in his eye because that was the reaction he’d been going for, she couldn’t resist the urge to one up him. With a single graceful movement, she let go of the sheet and it fell to the floor, pooling around her ankles. 

She wished she had the nerve to stand there and gaze at him boldly, but she was too shy; nevertheless, he’d seen enough to make his mouth actually gape open a little, his smile fading as he looked completely transfixed.   But because he was Jim, he didn’t stare; his eyes didn’t linger on any one place, just swept over her in appreciation, then rose to her face, as if he understood the need to be a little discreet. 

“My god…you are just incredible.  I mean, seriously,” He offered her a hand as she slipped down into the water, turning so that her back rested against his chest, his arms finding their way around her, linking his fingers with hers. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?  Stupid question – I know you don’t.  I can tell that you just…have no idea.” 

“I can tell you that you definitely make me feel that way.” Her voice was soft.  He leaned forward a bit, raising a hand from the water to gently turn her face toward his. 

His eyes were so serious as he said quietly, “I hope I always make you feel that way.  You deserve to feel that way.”  

Their eyes met, and she felt her heartbeat quicken. She was fully prepared to turn back around, to distract herself, to talk for a little while, because he probably wasn’t ready yet to go again, but before she could, he’d leaned forward and touched his lips to hers. 

Their lips held for a long moment, then his tongue was hot on her damp skin as he kissed down her neck.   When his lips found hers again, she felt an urgency sear through her, so she turned, the water sloshing around them as she raised herself up, facing him.  His hands were wet, his face and the edges of his hair damp; his eyes bore into hers, and then he urged her lips back down to his own, one arm sliding around her back, resting at her waist, pulling her down on top of him.  

She realized with a shudder that she’d obviously underestimated him earlier in thinking he might need more time.  

He lifted her slightly, then gently eased her hips down to rest on his, pushing inside her again, the pressure exquisite, causing her to gasp loudly, the sound echoing through the bathroom.  He moaned then, moving slowly, which sent a shudder through her; she never wanted this to stop, wanted to just make him lose control, make him feel as out of his mind with desire as she herself felt. 

 “Don’t stop…” She whispered against his lips, prompting him to move a little faster, stifling another moan, his hands moving from her hips to her back, gliding up so that his hands rested on her shoulders, guiding her movements, pushing a little deeper, causing her to gasp sharply. 

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He whispered, concern in his eyes as he pulled back to look at her.  She didn’t bother to answer him, just pressed her lips back on his impatiently.  Water sloshed out of the tub as they moved, splashing onto the floor; she loved the sound of it because somehow it seemed to reflect the wild abandon she was feeling as she pushed his neck to the side, sinking her fingers in his damp hair as she lowered her lips to his neck, tasting the salt of his skin, loving the way he whispered her name, loving the way it felt to have him inside of her.   

She wanted to be able to really feel him, without the water distracting her, so she reluctantly pulled back to stand up, offering him a hand.  He followed her lead, standing, his eyes never leaving hers as he stood to his full height, eventually leaving her staring up at him.  She’d intended to lead him back to the bedroom, but the expression on his face, the intensity in his eyes, distracted her;  he lowered his head, pressing his lips back to hers with an urgency that mirrored how she felt. 

Maddening to want him this much when she’d just made love to him less than an hour before.  The thought occurred to her, delicious and jarring, that they could just make love all night, that this could go on for hours…. 

She knew she was kidding herself, though, because she couldn’t handle it and she knew it; already she was clutching at his shoulders, nails in his back as he pushed her against the wall, both of them still standing in the tub, the warm water swishing around their feet.  

“Oh god…please….” She’d whispered, wanting him inside her again, unable to even articulate it, unable to do anything other than let her head fall back, clutching his hair as his tongue trailed down her neck to her collarbone to her breasts.  And then she’d felt one of his hands slide under her right leg, lifting it slightly; with another moan, she’d wrapped that leg around him as best she could, hearing him moan her name, then say something like, “God, you are so….”

But he didn’t finish, his words lost as he moved his mouth back to hers. Those now familiar tremors started low, deep in her belly as soon as he was inside her again, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his lips everywhere. 

It seemed as if everything went black for a second as she felt herself being swept away by that trembling that emanated from somewhere deep, deep inside her, shaking even her knees, causing her to say his name, somewhere between a scream and a gasp.    

She would have fallen if he hadn’t tightened his grip, holding her up, his head lowering momentarily to her neck, a moan escaping him when she ran her nails lightly down his back.  Then he moaned her name, a shudder passing through him just as it had her a few seconds earlier.   

They’d stood there holding each other for a few minutes, waiting for their breathing to return to normal, waiting for the trembling to stop.  He’d pulled back to gaze down at her, his eyes more green than hazel, his hair wet, face slick with sweat or bathwater – she wasn’t sure which.  He looked like he wanted to say something, but all that came out was a deep, guttural, “Wow.”

She smiled up at him, swaying on her feet for a second, prompting him to lean down, sliding his arm under her knees and lifting her up, carrying her as he stepped out of the tub, reaching out with one arm to grab a towel that hung on the wall on the way out. 

She sighed, burying her face in his damp shoulder, inhaling his scent, murmuring, “Ahhhh….I could get used to this.” 

She could feel him smile, could hear it in his voice when he asked, “Get used to what?” 

As he deposited her gently on the bed, she smiled up at him, loving the width of his shoulders, taking the towel he handed her. “You carrying me everywhere.” 

“Nice – so the carrying was the best part of what just happened – that’s great, Beesley. Thank you.  Anyway….”  He’d pretended to dramatically change the subject. 

She’d silenced him with a kiss on the lips (the realization that she could kiss him full on the lips whenever she wanted was nothing short of exquisite), pulling his head down to hers, loving the feel of the damp curls at the nape of his neck in her fingers, then handing the towel to him, moving to lie back on the pillows, her arms crossed over her breasts, sheet covering up to her waist, watching him as he dried off a little.  

“Believe me.” Her voice was throaty. “The carrying was so not the best part of what just happened.” 

He tossed the towel aside and climbed into bed next to her, scooting under the sheet so that it covered him to his waist, turning to face her and again propping up on one arm to gaze at her, the smile on his face reflected in his eyes. “I mean…” She raised her eyebrows, then, “Wow.  Just – wow.  Who knew?  I mean, I had no idea it could be so…” 

She couldn’t finish, just tilted her head to one side, gazing over at him as he lay propped on one elbow beside her.  Her eyes fell from his eyes to his bare chest, then back up to his face; she took in the stubble on his jaw, his full lips, which were darker than usual from the way she’d kissed him, his damp, tousled hair.

 “Can I just say something?” She asked him, eyes wide. 

He chuckled at her, then said, his voice cracking a little the way that he did when he spoke softly, “I’m thinking that right about now, you can say absolutely anything you want.”  

She smiled at him, then – her eyes sweeping his face again, his shoulders, his bare chest – “You are so incredibly…hot.” 

He had the most adorable smile on his face, lips almost pursed, a faint hint of a blush lurking.  And then he again chuckled, clearly flattered and embarrassed, shaking his head.  She was reminded for a split second of how he’d looked when they’d played cards on Casino Night, when she’d been completely unable to hide what she felt for him…when he’d seemed so enchanted, disarmed in the face of her too obvious affection. 

She went on. “No, Jim, I mean it.” She shook her head slightly, then said, “You’ve always been adorable – really, just…like, achingly adorable.  But now, it’s like….  I had no idea you could…that it would be so….wow. Just…wow.”  

He gave her another smile, then said, “This is just unreal, isn’t it?” 

“It is.” She nodded, snuggling up to him when he offered her his arm, letting her rest her head on his bare chest, breathing in the delicious scent of him, so distinctive – clean but somehow…a hint of musk there.  Like…ylang ylang?  myrrh?  Some deep, sensual spice came to mind whenever she caught his scent…something maddening, something that conjured the most exaggeratedly, outrageously sensual images, like ancient Roman bathhouses, water dripping, air humid and heavy; old gothic rooms, ornate, with blood red draperies concealing elaborate beds canopied with gauzy tulle, candles flickering.  Clean, masculine…pure sex to her.  Well, now anyway.  

“So….work’s going to be fun on Monday.” He said, his voice muffled in her hair.  Her giggles reverberated in his chest, shook the bed. 

“Oh my god…I don’t know how I’m going to sit across from you all day and not just….” Her voice trailed off with a contented sigh, causing him to laugh at her again.  

And then she shifted, moving her head from his chest to raise up on her hands above him, beaming down at him, thinking, My god, the sight of him with no shirt…his chest is incredible. And his shoulders – have they always been this broad? Have his eyes always seemed this green?  I could’ve sworn they were more of a lightish brown…. I can’t even begin to think about his lips.  Full, sensuous…the things he can do with that mouth….oh my god.  

He lifted a hand to her face then, smoothing her hair back when it fell in her eyes, the smile on his face so familiar – she’d seen it a hundred times, had witnessed the emotions that it so clearly conveyed many times – at the poker table, after the Jinx, the day they’d had the Office Olympics…and here it was again, just for her.  

“So I have an idea.” She told him, feeling shy for a second – but only a second.  She realized that one of the reasons she’d fallen so in love with Jim was that he made her feel completely safe in that he accepted her entirely, loved her with a depth that truly was unconditional.  He’d never once let her down, hurt her feelings by being callous or insensitive.  There was something in him that enabled him to just innately understand her, to the point at which it was absolutely astonishing sometimes. 

“Okay, but I have to tell you, if it involves having sex again, I’m going to need a while – like, much longer than just forty-five minutes.” He grinned at her as she rolled her eyes at him. 

Then she suddenly smiled at him shyly, ducking her head conspiratorially, whispering, “Oh my god, Jim… We had sex!  Twice!” 

He burst out laughing at her, then suddenly sobered and said, “Wait…what?  What the hell are you talking about?  That is not what just happened.” 

They laughed together for a few seconds, then he said, “Unbelievable…yes, I totally get what you’re saying.  In fact, I think it’s going to be difficult not to burst out in the middle of the office and go, ‘Oh my god, everybody – I had sex with Pam!’  Like, I’m gonna want to taunt Dwight with it, high five Kevin, maybe even do a victory dance with Michael….” 

She roared at the images he conjured, then said, “So help me, if you do, I will make you pay…..” 

“Hmmmm….” His voice was deep as he closed his eyes for a second, then murmured, “That actually sounds kind of nice.” 

She shook her head at him, then said, “You are shameless, Jim Halpert. You know that, don’t you?” 

He gave her his most innocent look, then said, “Hey, you’re the one who took advantage of me in the bathtub.” 

“Oh, right – you hated every second of it, didn’t you?” She raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Every second.” He said, his voice low and throaty, one hand stroking her waist, his fingers lightly trailing her ribs, giving her chills. 

Then he said, “Okay, so you said you have an idea…?  Let’s hear it, Beesley.” 

“Okay, well….” She felt silly for a second, but the look on his face was so warm, so full of obvious affection.  “I’ve always wanted to have a romantic weekend – like, one where you don’t even leave the house again until Monday morning.  I’m not saying we have to, you know, have sex –“ 

He interrupted her, an eyebrow raised. “Oh yes – we will have to….” 

Something in the pit of her stomach went a little weak, and she loved it.  They smiled at each other for a second, and she went on.  

“No, but seriously….  I mean, this is a pretty big deal….” For a second she felt a little unsure.  Am I being totally stupid? He’s had sex with more than one person, so maybe it’s not that big a deal…. 

He was watching her face, clearly ascertaining her train of thought from her expression.  He caught one of her hands, bringing it to his lips, then said, “Yes, Pam…this is a huge deal.  Don’t question that – okay?” 

She couldn’t help it; tears filled her eyes before she could even stop them.  She was astonished when she saw his eyes start to shine a bit, too.  She would have been fine had his eyes not filled with tears; as it was, the sight of those tears – the knowledge of why they were there, of how much he loved her and had for so long – made it impossible for her to hold them back.  

“Hey…” His voice was soft, his smile so gentle as he reached out and wiped a tear from her cheek.   

“I can’t believe this.” She shook her head, crying openly now, unable to stop.  He had a fleetingly helpless look on his face, but it settled again into warmth, as he apparently stopped trying to hold it together himself. 

“I just…. Jim, just knowing that you’ve wanted this for so long, and here we are….and it’s so incredible.  I love you so much that it just….” She wanted to finish, but she couldn’t; one of the tears in his eyes trickled slowly down his cheek, causing her to tilt her head slightly, resting a hand on his cheek, the depth of her feelings overwhelming her for a second.  

Then he said, “I love you; I’ve loved you for a long time. And this --- it’s amazing, isn’t it?” His voice was hoarse, throaty from the tears. “I know that the newness will wear off eventually, and we’ll settle in, get used to the idea that we’re…us, a couple.  But I want you to know that I’ll never take this for granted, take you for granted – ever.” 

She gulped, choked back a sob at what he’d said, then wiped her tears with the back of her hand, gazing down at him with an expression of such love and depth that it took his breath away for a moment. 

Touching his face, she said, “I’ll never take this for granted either; I’ll never forget what it felt like to look you in the eye and lie to you, to tell you you had misinterpreted things, that all I wanted to be was your friend.  I’ll never forget everything you’ve done for me, ever.” 

Silence fell as they gazed at one another softly for a moment, then he gave her a small smile and asked, “So your idea was to make me cry?  Because that’s just mean, Beesley.”

“Suck it, Halpert.” She grinned at him, then couldn’t stand it anymore – had to lean down and touch her lips to his for a second, loving the way that his eyes closed, hands rested gently on her cheeks – then pulled back to smile at him again. 

“So tell me more about this weekend idea of yours – any specifics involved?  Like, do I have to blindfold you and feed you strawberries or something?” And then his expression changed; he pursed his lips, adding, “Hmm. That’s a good idea, actually; I’ll have to make a note of it….” 

She laughed at him, then said, “No, no specifics – just….” She shrugged. “I don’t know.  I’m just thinking that this is….such a big deal, and it has been such a long time in coming ---“ 

“Oh my god – such an incredibly long time in coming!” He groaned. “You and your damned rules.  You were killing me, Beesley; I genuinely believed I might actually die on one or two occasions.” 

“Shut up. You loved it, and you know it.” She gave him a knowing look, and he burst out laughing. 

“Maybe a little….” 

“So anyway, yes, this is a….” She couldn’t find the words, so he finished for her. “A momentous occasion?”

“Yes, thank you; that’s a very nice and proper way to say it.” She smiled at him, one hand touching his hair, then thought, Oh my god, I can touch his hair – sink my fingers into those fantastic, tousled waves any time I want. “And I think it would be… I don’t know, kind of cool if we didn’t leave the apartment until Monday morning.  Is that totally stupid?” 

He touched her cheek, seeing the insecurity in her eyes, wondering how long it would take her to really let down all of her defenses, how long it would take him to undo the damage that Roy had done over all those years of humiliating and belittling her.  

“It sounds like the best idea I’ve heard in a long time, actually.” He smiled. “Seriously.  I’m happy not to go anywhere.”

 “Good.” She grinned back at him, then, “So…what about a bubble bath?” 

He groaned, glanced at the clock on the nightstand, then said, “Beesley, it’s only been thirty minutes – you gotta give me more time than that.”

 “Oh my god!” She exclaimed, swatting at his bare chest.  “For future reference, Halpert, ‘bubble bath’ is not code for sex.” 

“Well you can excuse me, I’m sure, for being a little confused.”  Then he threw back his head and laughed at her, and it occurred to her that she’d never seen him laugh with such abandon before…and she loved the sight of it.   

He’d taken her up on the bubble bath invitation, and this time, they’d made it through, sitting across from one another.  (“See, that was the mistake, Beesley – you can’t possibly sit that close to me when you’re naked and expect me to keep my hands off of you – just so you know, for future reference.”)   They sat in the water until long after the bubbles subsided, their hands pruning, talking about everything and nothing.  They talked about the serious (each musing about how absolutely surreal it was to be sitting naked in a bathtub together, after all that had happened) to the mundane (sharing their collective theories on where Creed lived – Jim swore he lived in something like a hippie commune with a harem of women, while Pam insisted that it had to have been a cave out in the woods somewhere).   

They'd fallen asleep tangled up in each other, voices fading to murmurs as they drifted off. 

 ________________________________________________________________________ 

She’d awoken the next morning close to nine, curled up on her side.  Jim was behind her, his arms around her waist, one of his legs entwined with hers.  She could feel the hair on his chest against her bare back, rising and falling with his breathing.   

Little snatches of the night before rushed back to her in her first moments of consciousness, delicious in their vividness: Sitting in the living room with him, drinking wine and confessing to all the things they’d left unsaid; making love with him for the first time, overwhelmed at the feel of his lips, his touch, him….; the intensity in his eyes when he’d moved inside her for the first time, their eyes locked; making love again in the bathtub, he pressing her against the wall until she called out his name, her voice thin with passion as her self control had vanished long since; lying in her bed, naked, sharing their innermost thoughts, all the things they’d never been able to say aloud before.  

I can’t believe he’s in love with me, she thought. I can’t believe that he’s mine.  I can’t believe that it took me more than three years to get here.  How did I ever spend time around this man and not just….give in to this heady desire, to the fact that I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone?   

She smiled, shifting so that she faced him, her head resting on his chest.  In his sleep, he pressed his lips to her forehead, causing her to feel a weakness in her stomach, a lump rising in her throat.  She wondered if he’d known all along that it would be this right…. The very thought made her want to cry, because now that she knew what it was like between them, how utterly incredible it could be, the thought of going without it was unbearable.  

And he was hers for the whole weekend. 

The images that pervaded her mind were so random and sudden that she had to open her eyes and focus on the clock that sat on the nightstand, just to keep from squealing in sheer delight at all the possibilities.   She wanted to make breakfast for him, make one of her famous omelets – something she’d learned to do in a foods class in high school, of all places.  But they were good and she knew it; she wanted to make one for him, maybe as a sort of thank you for the night before…. 

God, last night…. Just the memories of it left her with that distracted, heady feeling; she knew the images would pervade her mind for days, weeks.  And god knows, there was probably more where that came from.  It almost didn’t seem possible, that he could be such an incredible man – her best friend, the guy who knew her inside and out, understood her like no one else – and at the same time, he was so fucking unbelievable in bed.  She hadn’t expected to be disappointed, but at the same time, she hadn’t expected him to just blow her mind the way that he had.  A slow smile spread across her face as she remembered the night before, then thought, Time to wake him up; time to maybe do to him what he did to me last night…. 

She started at his neck, taking her time as she moved down to his clavicle, at which point he woke up with a sharp intake of breath, his arms almost reflexively tightening around her.

 “Good morning.” Her voice was low, a little hoarse as she paused, raising her head to give him an enigmatic smile, her eyes deliberately shifting from his eyes to his lips. He seemed unable to speak for a second, breaths already coming faster; she could feel that he wanted her, that he was ready now. For a second, she wasn’t sure that she could maintain her control, but then, the thought of torturing him was so…appealing that she knew she could hold off. 

“Oh….you’re mean.” He whispered, eyes glazed.  Then, “I’ve got to brush my teeth.” 

“No….” She shook her head, lowering her lips back to his chest (god, he sounds so sexy when he moans) before murmuring again, rather decidedly, “No.”

He took in a deep, shuddering breath, then: “You have to let me brush my teeth…because there’s no fucking way I can keep from kissing you –“ 

And before she could react, he’d leapt out of the bed, rushing to her bathroom.  She lay back and laughed, embracing herself, arms wrapped around her breasts, inhaling at the memory of what he’d said, the tone in his voice: There’s no fucking way I can keep from kissing you.  That tiny, tinkling tremor in the pit of her stomach awakened again. 

So she slowly got up to follow him, leaning in the doorway of the bathroom wearing only a very small pair of pink panties, knowing damn well what it would do to him to see her standing there like that…loving the anticipation of his reaction. She saw his eyes darken in the bathroom mirror, his toothbrush moving slower and slower until it almost stopped.  Ah yes.

She stepped up to stand next to him, then said, “Excuse me,” brushing past him, deliberately moving full against him, picking up her toothbrush and putting toothpaste on it.  When he’d left a toothbrush at her place back when they’d first started their slumber parties, she had always wondered if there would be a morning like this one. 

He didn’t say a word, didn’t have to; she could see how much he wanted her, and it made her feel that quickening low, low in her belly.  He didn’t say a word, just stood there as she brushed her teeth, rinsing his mouth with mouthwash next to her, his eyes eventually meeting hers in the mirror. 

When they’d finished brushing their teeth, he suddenly turned to face her, taking slow, deliberate steps toward her until she was against the wall.  Then he slowly, slowly lowered his lips to hers, just brushing gently at first, then seizing her face in his hands and deepening the kiss, pressing close against her so that she could feel him hard against her, his tongue tasting like peppermint. She felt dizzy, but she forced herself to pull back. 

 For a second, he looked tortured, almost devastated, breathing heavily. 

“Oh no….” She said softly.  “It’s my turn now.”

His eyebrows raised, but something in his eyes darkened as he seemed to pick up on what she was implying. She took him by the hand then, leading him back to the bed, where she paused, pushing him gently until he fell back on it.  A small grin pulled at his lips, and she could tell he was tempted to crack a joke – but she silenced him with a look. 

“Now….” Her voice was smooth, silky as she crawled on the bed next to him.  “Your job is to just lie very still, and let me do whatever I want to do to you….okay?” 

He clearly wanted to respond, but all he managed was a muffled groan when her head lowered to his neck, pushing it roughly to the side so that she could find an angle that suited her.  She kissed him all the way down, moving slowly from his neck to his clavicle, to his chest, further down, down, loving the way he writhed at her touch, her lips.  After a while, he’d clearly had too much and had suddenly grasped her arms, in one swift motion pulling her down on top of him, pressing his lips to hers with a fervor that made her moan in spite of herself. 

They made love for the next half hour, he moving exquisitely slowly, taking great pleasure in repaying her for the torture she’d previously inflicted on him, both of them damp with sweat and trembling when it was all over.  Neither spoke for several long moments as they lay side by side in her bed, and she found herself wondering for a second if she’d ever get sick of this.  Would there ever be a day when she wouldn’t want his hands on her, wouldn’t want to feel him, wouldn’t want him inside her? She knew that it would inevitably wear off, but she just couldn’t imagine it somehow.

At somewhere close to eleven o’clock that morning, they’d made it out of bed, forced, as Jim proclaimed dramatically, by their hunger. He’d come out of the bathroom when they’d gotten up for breakfast to find her standing in the middle of her room buttoning up the white shirt he’d worn to work the day before, her legs peaking out from beneath it. He knew he’d never forget the vision that she presented, like she’d walked right out of one of his fantasies; he loved the way his shirt was so huge on her that the shoulders hung almost to her elbows, that the hem skimmed her knees. She was in the process of rolling up the sleeves when he’d first walked out.

He’d been speechless for a few seconds, unable to do anything but stand there and stare at her, mouth slightly agape, thinking, Is this actually happening? Because this is much, much better than I ever even imagined it would be….

When she’d turned to find him staring at her, she blushed a little, then said shyly, “So is this just a complete cliché – me wearing your shirt the morning after?”

At first he couldn’t do anything other than shake his head, then he finally said, “If you had any idea how incredible you look right now – or how many times I fantasized about seeing you like this, wearing one of my shirts and nothing else….”

A sly smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as she slowly walked toward him, stopping in front of him and standing on her toes so she could put her arms around his neck.

“Really? So you fantasized about me?”

He shrugged slightly, then said noncommittally, “Eh, maybe once or twice.”

Of course she didn’t buy it.

“Do I even want to know?” She couldn’t resist teasing him.

“Well, I could tell you, but it would be much more fun to show you.” And then, unable to keep himself from smiling, he added, “But in order to do that, we’d need to find a goat.”

She threw back her head and burst out laughing at that while he stood watching her, smiling down at her, loving the sound of her laughter, the way she seemed so different now…happy…free.

They’d gone into her kitchen then, where she instructed him to sit while she whipped up one of her famous omelets. He’d sat for as long as he could stand it, then had crept up to wrap his arms around her from behind, kissing her on the neck, then nuzzling her effusively as she giggled and shooed him away. (Although it was a side of him that was one of the more pleasant surprises – he was so amazingly affectionate! She loved it.)

Then he stole the spatula from her, poking gently at the eggs as she scolded him, telling him to be careful not to break the edges. He pretended to be offended, wielding the spatula at her and calling her “young lady.”

She’d laughed at him, then laughed even harder later when he took the first bite of her omelet and pretended to die on the spot, falling face down on the counter.

“Wow – I had no idea you were capable of this, Beesley.” He shook his head, then, “If I’d have known you could make such a killer omelet….”

“Oh?” She’d given him a threatening look, one eyebrow raised, prompting him to raise his hands in surrender, pretending to be petrified of her.

When they’d finished breakfast and had done the dishes, they stood looking at one another, Jim’s eyebrows raised.

“So…?” He asked.

“So what?”

He grinned, reaching out to catch one of her hands in his, thrilled that he could actually do that now. “So, Beesley, this is your weekend; what now?”

She shrugged. “Go Fish?”

It wasn’t what she really wanted to do most; what she wanted most was to go back to bed, to cuddle with him and just talk. She’d discovered that she loved the rumble, the reverberations of his deep voice when she laid her head on his chest while they talked. But she wasn’t sure whether or not he was sick of lazing around in the bed.

His eyebrow raised. “You challenging me?”

“Maybe.”

He gave her a threatening look, then asked, lowering his head a little, a conspiratorial tone in his voice as he asked, “Seriously? Because I was kind of hoping that we could retire Go Fish for a while – you know, now that we’ve said to hell with the rules.”

She laughed at him, secretly thrilled at what he’d said. “Do you want to go back and get in bed…just because we can?”

He didn’t hesitate, just said decisively, “Let’s do it.” Then he turned and led her by the hand back to the bedroom, where he climbed into bed and then held up the covers, turned on his side, gesturing for her to crawl in beside him.

She did, initially snuggling up with her back to his chest as his chin lowered to her shoulder, then she suddenly flipped over on her back, prompting him to look at her quizzically.

“I want to be able to look at you while we talk.” She explained, watching as a familiar warmth washed over his features. She loved it that he was so transparent – that she could always tell when she’d said or done something that made him soften toward her a bit. And the best part was that now, she didn’t have to feel guilty when she saw that look; now that look was simply a reminder of the fact that she’d made the right choice.

They lay side by side, each propped up on an elbow facing one another. She’d discarded his shirt, claiming it to be too “big and bulky” to be comfortable in bed, and the sheet covered her breasts; he was wearing his boxers, chest bare, shoulders broad.

The conversation had turned again to the years they’d spent dancing around the issue, to all the things they hadn’t said. Somehow the subject of Andi came up, and he told her the truth about the conversation they’d had the morning they had broken up.

Pam listened quietly, truly feeling for Andi, realizing how horrible it would be to lose him, to have to try to get over him.

“Wow.” Her voice was soft. “That’s really….amazing, that she just sort of let you go like that. That must’ve been really hard for her.”

He nodded slowly, feeling that slight twinge of guilt that he always felt when he thought about Andi. “Yeah….but I think she really understood that there was just no way it was going to work between us. It’s like she told me in that last email she sent me: She’d known I was still in love with someone else when we got involved; she just didn’t realize that that person was in love with me, too.”

Their eyes met and they exchanged a smile, Jim’s fingers trailing her cheek.

Then she got a wicked gleam in her eye and couldn’t resist saying, “Well, she was right about one thing.”

“What’s that?” His eyebrows raised in anticipation of her confirming again that yes, she was in love with him.

Instead, she said, “You are fucking incredible in bed.”

He looked shocked for a second, then threw his head back and laughed, shoulders shaking.

“Beesley, you just…you kill me with that.” But he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face.

“Why?” She was smiling at him innocently, eyes wide. “It’s true, you know.”

His smile widened and that adorable blush darkened his cheeks for a second, then, “I’m glad you think so…believe me. And trust me, you’re not so bad yourself.”

He made one of his trademark faces then – a mixture of ecstasy and shock -- prompting her to laugh out loud, shaking her head at him; now it was her turn to blush.

“What?” He pretended to be indignant. Then his expression shifted and he added, his voice more soft, “Understand – I’ve always thought you were the most beautiful girl; you’ve been the woman of my dreams for…years, literally years.”

He looked shy for a second, so she touched his cheek, eyes meeting his, feeling that swell of emotion within her as she marveled yet again at how incredibly lucky she was to have a man like him…such a truly good man who absolutely worshipped the ground she walked on, and the best part of all was that he knew her better than anyone else on earth did, even her mom.

Then out of the blue he said, “Hey, did I ever tell you about what happened with Michael on the Booze Cruise?”

She shook her head, asking fearfully, “Oh god, what did he do?”

“Amazingly, nothing obnoxious – well, apart from the maniacal dancing and the announcement that the ship was sinking.” He shook his head, rolling his eyes as she laughed. “He was really so great to me that night – and actually, there have been a few moments since then when I’ve seen the grown up side of him reveal itself once or twice.”

He told her then what Michael had said to him the night of the Booze Cruise, and tears were standing in her eyes when he finished talking. “Wow…makes you wonder what really goes on in that head of his.”

“I know.” He smiled. “But I’ll tell you this: I get the impression that Jan has seen this side of him once or twice herself, and that’s how she ended up getting involved with him.”

“Interesting theory….” She was getting groggy, so he smiled and turned to shift to his back, gesturing for her to lay her head on his chest, which she did gratefully.

They talked for a little longer, their voices soft murmurs, his hand stroking her hair absently, her cheek against his chest, both of them eventually dropping off to sleep.

They slept for almost two and a half hours; she’d awakened to the feeling of his finger gently stroking her cheek. When she’d opened her eyes, he was propped on an elbow, watching her, his expression so familiar, yet so…warm, so tender that she felt it deep in her very being – in her head, a tightening feeling in her chest, streaming to alchemize into that delicious twinge low, low in her belly.

“Hi.” He said softly, voice cracking.

“Hey.” She smiled back at him, snuggling a little closer to him, then murmured, “What time is it?”

He glanced at the clock. “It’s 4:30.”

“Wow…guess we slept the day away, huh?” She lifted her head to smile at him.

“Guess so…but I’d say we made the most of last night and this morning, so we’re still right on schedule for our romantic weekend.” He grinned, then added, “And speaking of…. I know you wanted this to be a sort of lock-in type thing—“

“A what?” She was looking at him strangely, and he felt self-conscious for a second.

“A lock-in…you know, like at a church…?”

She was staring at him like he’d lost his mind. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Ah, so you were a heathen – probably never went to church when you were a kid. Is that it?” He tsk-tsked, giving her his best Angela expression.

“Excuse me, I went to church, but I assure you, we didn’t do anything like what you and I did last night and this morning at my church. I have no idea what you guys did at your ‘lock-ins,’ but really….”

His fingers found their way to her ribs, tightening with the threat of tickling her, causing her to instantly shriek, “Okay! Okay! I take it back! I take it back! Tell me what you were going to say….”

“Mmm-hmm. Watch it, Beesley; I am so not afraid to tickle you until you beg for mercy – don’t make me do it.” He laughed when she pulled a face at him, then continued.

“Well I know you mentioned that you really wanted this to be an entire weekend deal –and I want that, too. But I have to tell you that I’m starting to feel a little gross; I mean, I don’t have any clothes to change into over here, don’t have any deodorant – and no, I will not use yours because I don’t want to smell like peaches…” He grinned, then , “I don’t know. Can you give me an hour – just one hour – to run home, get some stuff, shower, shave, then come back?”

She smiled at him then, saying, “I suppose I could…you do stink.”

He looked so shocked and indignant that she immediately laughed, pressing her lips to his and exclaiming, “Oh my god – you so do not stink! I swear, you smell good; you always smell good – like spicy, sexy, aromatherapy something or other.”

Now his eyebrows raised at her in utter confusion. She swatted at him. “Shut up. I don’t know what I’m trying to say, other than that you smell good to me. Why do you think I’m always stealing the shirts right off your back? But yes, if you want to go home for an hour – one hour only! – I don’t mind.”

“Seriously?” His eyes held hers. “Because I don’t want to mess this up for you; if it’s really important that we stick to the whole never-leaving-until-Monday-morning thing, I really don’t mind.”

It was one of the many moments that had caught her by surprise, one of the moments that made her fully realize just how very different he was from Roy, who had so often lacked consideration about the big things, to say nothing of the smaller things. But Jim…it was obvious that he’d do anything for her; it was obvious, too, that he took her needs seriously, even the simple ones like her romantic weekend idea.

“What?” His voice brought her out of her reverie; she hadn’t even realized she’d fallen silent.

“Nothing.” She shook her head with a small, cryptic smile, prompting him to nudge her.

“No, tell me what that was about – you looked like you were really thinking about something there….”

So she looked up at him and smiled, touching his cheek. “Okay then; you win. I was just thinking that you, Jim Halpert, may well be the most amazing man on the planet.”

He chuckled, looking embarrassed, then shook his head slowly, eyes meeting hers as his expression grew serious for a moment. “That’s all I want….” His voice was low, a little throaty. “All I want is for you to think that – just you.”

A comfortable silence fell, then to break the moment, she teased, “Now, if you try to hold that over my head, I swear I’ll deny ever saying it.”

“Figures.” He snorted, and she laughed.

She told him then to go, to take the hour – more if he needed it – so long as he came back to her by that evening. She watched wistfully as he pulled on his jeans, then put his shirt back on, buttoning it as he smiled at her. It occurred to her then just how much she loved this scene: lying in her bed in her underwear, sheet pulled up under her arms, watching Jim get dressed, feeling absolutely satiated, full…euphoric, almost.

He leaned to kiss her goodbye (oh my god! she thought. Now we’ll kiss goodbye instead of exchanging one of those painful silences in the elevator, stealing glances at each other.), his hand touching her hair; when their lips met and held, she felt that ever increasingly familiar twinge deep in her belly. She could tell by the way his lips lingered that he was feeling it, too.

He groaned suddenly, lips still on hers, then murmured, his voice a delicious growl against her lips, “You are so lucky that I’m already dressed – but god help you when I get back!”

She laughed, then pulled back to smile at him through half closed lids. “I’ll look forward to it.”

That look she’d come to recognize already darkened his eyes – the look that clearly told her he wanted her, that she was torturing him a little…. She loved it.

He kissed her again, quickly, then said, “I’ll be back in an hour – probably less. Promise.”

“Okay.” She settled back in bed, then just as he reached her bedroom door, called out, “Jim!”

He turned, cocking his head at her.

She smiled, then said, her voice silky, “Don’t shave.”

A slow smile spread across his face, then he moved as if he would leave, but stopped, turning back to her. He gave her another smile, then turned to leave again.

She couldn’t help but call him back, saying softly, “Hey…”

Again he turned, an eyebrow raised, that smile still on his face. “Yes, Beesley?”

She grinned at him, then said, her voice soft and a little husky, “I love you.”

She saw him swallow hard, blinking a few times; it was amazing to witness just how much he’d wanted this, just how happy he was…just how little he took for granted. If she thought about it long enough – how long he’d wanted to be with her, how long he’d suffered at her hands – she’d cry again, and she knew it. So she tried not to.

He stared at her hard for a moment, then the smile returned to his lips as he shook his head in disbelief and said, “I love you, too…. Wow.”

The sound of her contented laughter followed him out the door, quickening his steps; he couldn’t wait to get back to her.
_______________________________________________________________________

She’d lain in bed for about fifteen minutes after he left, just savoring everything about the moment: the cool sheet against her naked skin, his scent all over the sheets, all over her, the feel of his lips on hers, his body pressed against hers…. And he was coming back. It just seemed too good to be true.

She got out of bed, pulling on the old tee-shirt of his she’d been wearing the night before, then began to bustle around the apartment, turning on soft music, then lighting every candle she owned. She counted as she lit them, and when she got to thirty-two, she wondered if this was the way Angela felt when she looked around at all her cat stuff. Probably not.

Then she’d taken a quick bath, smiling softly to herself as she thought of the night before, wondering if she’d ever look at this bathtub quite the same way again. Every so often it would just hit her out of nowhere – almost randomly, and always with a shock that ran from her hairline down her spine – that oh my god, she’d slept with Jim! That they were together now! She’d touched him, tasted him, now had the answers to all the questions that had once burned so deeply….

It also occurred to her as she dug through one of her drawers that she couldn’t remember when – if ever – she’d felt this sort of anticipation about Roy. As she pulled on a lace and satin cream colored bra and matching underwear (one of her only two matching sets, as she realized she was going to have to go shopping….), she found herself a little caught off guard by the need she felt suddenly to dress up a little for Jim. (Well, dress up in her sexiest bra and panties, but still….) She put on a little make up, brushed her hair out, leaving it down and long, sprayed on a little perfume, her train of thought still moving….

She hadn’t taken any pains in so long to look good for Roy because she hadn’t really wanted to; she hadn’t really wanted to because he had never noticed when she did make an extra effort. She felt sad for a second that she couldn’t remember when the last time had been that she had tried to look nice for him, that she couldn’t remember the last time Roy had ever told her she was beautiful.

It was a bittersweet sort of sadness, the kind that comes not with regrets, but with a little touch of something akin to sympathy, a little bit of an ache – both for Roy and for who she used to be that she would have settled for that for such a long time. The realization that she’d come so close to marrying him almost terrified her now.

Jim was just so different…the embodiment of all she’d ever wanted in a man, just as she’d told him the night before. It was strange that, in getting closer and closer to him – and certainly, in finally taking the huge leap that they’d taken the night before – she didn’t feel at all like she was losing her self; rather, she felt more centered, stronger, more in touch with who she was at her very core than she had in longer than she could remember. He made her feel alive, made her motivated, made her hungry to do the sorts of things that had always put most in her element – painting, for example; she couldn’t wait to put a brush to the canvas again.

Somehow, being with him made her dreams seem less distant, made them seem more like a reality that was just waiting for the next sunrise.

That so much had changed while at the same time, so much remained the same was amazing to her. Second only to the fear of actually leaving Roy and embracing something new had been the fear that if she ever did take a chance with Jim, they might lose their friendship. Much as she’d been attracted to him, she also loved the best friend that he was to her, loved their dynamic, so much that the thought of gambling with that relationship had petrified her.

It was hard to believe now that she’d ever worried about that; it was harder still to believe that somehow, everything was still as it had always been – he called her Beesley, made faces at her, challenged her to the same sorts of games they’d always played.

But he also locked eyes with her when they made love; his hands had touched every inch of her body; he told her he loved her now, saying it out loud instead of emoting it through those fleeting, heartbreaking expressions he’d once worn.

She was still musing about this when she heard his knock at the door. Glancing at the clock as she went to answer it, she was impressed: forty-eight minutes. Not bad, Halpert.

She’d opened the door slowly, a small, sexy smile on her face, anticipating his reaction to the candles, her lingerie – one that quickly turned into surprise, because he was standing there with a dozen roses hiding his face, looking a little sheepish at first as he lowered them, saying, “Okay, so I’m hoping this isn’t just too---“

He stopped abruptly when his eyes rested on her, standing in the doorway wearing nothing but the bra and underwear. He felt something deep in him weaken, then harden, that aching feeling sort of sliding all the way down to his feet. He had not expected this and could do nothing for a few seconds other than stare at her stupidly, his mouth literally agape.

She loved his expression – awed, dazed, a hunger registering in his features, burning in his eyes.

But she wasn’t able to maintain the sexy stance she’d assumed; at the sight of the roses, she’d gasped, exclaiming, “Oh my god – Jim!”

She grabbed him by the arm, pulling him inside, where he stood, still speechless, staring at her, taking her in from head to toe – her hair, her lips that gleamed with the lip gloss she’d applied (she couldn’t wait to tell him later that the color was called “Orgasm” – how apropos!), her hair, her body….

“You’re killing me, you know.” He whispered, then suddenly looked down at the roses in his hand, almost as if he was shocked to find them there. Then he said, voice a little throaty, “Obviously these are for you. I know that daffodils are your favorite – “

“How did you….?” Had she ever told him that?

“You told me a few years ago – said that your grandmother always called them ‘jonquils’ and that reminded you of your great Uncle John.” His voice trailed off, and all she could do was stand there staring at him, mouth agape.

My god…he’s unbelievable, she thought. Nothing is lost on him, nothing. Is this real?

His voice interrupted her thoughts (he seemed wholly unaware that he’d just floored her with what he’d said; it was just second nature to him to listen to her, always, and to value what was important to her).

“Anyway, I couldn’t find any daffodils this time of year, so I figured red roses might be the next best thing. And there’s more stuff that I need to get out of my car, but right now, I can’t….”

His voice trailed off again as he stepped forward then, still holding the roses, leaning to press his lips lightly to hers. She was reminded of the very first time he’d ever kissed her – how it couldn’t have been more perfect: chaste, reverent, tentative, but so…deep, so heavy with the promise of more, with the weight of his feelings. His hesitation that night had alluded to a passion that was burning beneath the surface, so hot that he had to step very carefully. Oh yes, he knew what he was doing….

Her hands roamed up to his hair as she pressed closer to him. For a second he responded, his lips yielding to hers, the hand that wasn’t holding the roses trailing over her bare skin. He wanted to just drop the roses, sweep her up off her feet, and carry her into the bedroom…but he had a plan, and he had to stick to it.

So he forced himself to pull back suddenly, saying, “No – wait. Aggghhh…” He shook his head, then made a sound that was similar to the one that Michael made when he found himself overemotional or just overwhelmed, which made Pam start to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” He asked her, handing the roses to her with a smile, trying desperately to pretend that the woman of his dreams was not standing in front of him in nothing but a bra and panties, with a smile that was threatening to bring him to his knees.

“You sounded just like Michael when you made that noise.” She informed him, prompting him to raise an eyebrow at her. Before he could say anything, she held up a hand, pointing at the roses she now held, saying, “Can I just say…? This? Wow. How did you…? Why…?”

She couldn’t even form the words. Again, she couldn’t help thinking of her relationship with Roy, how he’d sent her flowers maybe three times – and had never recognized the value in hand delivering them. And she knew for certain that he couldn’t have told anyone – even after almost ten years with her – that her favorite flowers were daffodils, much less why, and he had met her Uncle John’s widow several times.

Jim smiled at her, that glint still in his eyes – the one that said so clearly, I’m thinking about how much I want you right now because I just can’t help it….

He cleared his throat, then said, “I was hoping you wouldn’t think it was too –“ And then he seemed to notice for the first time the candles blazing, the soft music, as he looked around for a minute in wonder, then said, “Wow….it looks amazing in here….”

She smiled at him, loving the way his eyes roamed the room, taking in everything. Then he stared at her for a minute, eyes sweeping over her before he cleared his throat and went on. “The roses – yeah, I don’t know; I really wanted to get some daffodils, but when they didn’t have those…. Well, I worried that roses would be totally corny or clichéd –“

Then he stopped abruptly again and said, “I’m sorry, but I’m having a hard time – and I do mean quite literally a hard time –“ He paused when she snorted loudly at what he’d said, then gave her a wry grin and continued. “-- standing here talking to you while you look like…that. I’m going to ask you probably for the only time in our lives to put some clothes on, but only because…well, I have a couple of things up my sleeve, and if I just seize you now and make love to you right here on the kitchen floor -“

She raised her eyebrows at him teasingly, though something in his tone had made her think for a moment, oh please do….

“Yes, I considered it, Beesley; yes, the thought actually crossed my mind – and don’t think I won’t just do it one day, either.” He gave her a sly little smile, then continued. “But anyway, yes, I need – or rather, I would like to take some time with…you, with…this.”

“You are making absolutely no sense; you realize this, don’t you?” She grinned at him, turning to fill a vase with water. Then she turned back to him suddenly and exclaimed loudly, “Oh, wait! You want to take some time…so, what, do you want to re-institute the rules? Because we can re-institute the rules….”

She couldn’t help but smile at the look on his face; he truly did look like he was doing everything in his power to control himself.

“You know, Beesley, I would take a page from your book and say, ‘Suck it,’ but somehow, given the nature of our relationship now, I don’t think that would be appropriate at all.” He laughed when her mouth dropped. “Mm-hmm. See, at least I have some sense of decorum.”

“Ha!” She scoffed openly at him.

“Okay, I’m going to get some things from my car – please, for the love of god, Beesley, have some clothes on when I get back.” And then he added, calling out over his shoulder, “But something that’s easy to take off!”

She laughed all the way to her bedroom, where she slipped on a robe, then returned to the kitchen just in time to see him come in, two grocery bags in his hands and a duffel bag over his shoulder.

As she went to take one of the bags from him, she said, “Oh my god, Jim…what did you do? And how did you find the time?”

He gave her a wide grin, setting the other grocery bag on her counter. “Well with the time you saved me by asking me not to shave, I was able to accomplish a surprising amount.”

“Seriously?” She asked.

“No.” He laughed, then gestured to the bag over his shoulder. “I didn’t get a chance to shower at my place, so I’ll have to do it here – if you don’t mind, of course.”

She smiled at him sweetly, then replied, “I don’t mind at all, just as long as you let me get in there with you. If I recall, you’re capable of some pretty amazing things in my bathtub.”

He tried to keep the smile from spreading across his cheeks, but he couldn’t; he closed his eyes for a second, marveling at her. He hadn’t suspected this side of her – or rather, had never dreamed he’d see it. But he loved it, and somehow he still couldn’t believe that she was as attracted to him as he was to her – and best of all, that she loved him, actually loved him.

Okay, Halpert, settle down; you’ve got a plan, and if you’re going to execute it in full, she cannot get in the shower with you.

“Here’s the thing,” He began with a grin. “I have a little plan here, and…well, let’s just put it this way: If you join me in the shower, my plan will go all to hell very quickly. Trust me on that.”

“Oh?” She looked intrigued.

“Yes. Now, may I….?” He gestured to the grocery bags, and she stepped back, leaning against the counter and folding her arms.

“By all means.”

He began to take things out of the bags, and as he did so, she was reminded of the night he’d made dinner for her on the roof, how he’d been so proud of his grilled cheese sandwiches. She’d gone home that night , hearing her own words echoing in her head: “I can’t remember the last time someone made me dinner.”

For some reason, that night haunted her; her own words kept rattling in her head, that damned voice whispering, If you were with Jim instead of Roy, you wouldn’t possibly be able to say such a thing, because things would be so different with him. She’d fallen asleep on the couch that night, unable to bring herself to climb into bed next to Roy.

As she stood in her robe looking at the excited smile on Jim’s face, she thought to herself, if only I’d known then what I know now….

The first thing he pulled out of the bag was a bottle of champagne. He smiled, holding it aloft and saying, “I assume this needs no explanation.”

She smiled back at him, loving that he’d gotten it. Then he pulled out a plastic container of strawberries, and her eyes widened.

“See, I know what you’re thinking,” He told her, grinning and looking a little shy. “And my initial intent with the strawberries was just to have them with the champagne – nothing terribly naughty. But then I got this….”

And he pulled out a tub of Cool Whip, prompting her eyes to widen even more, then she started to giggle uncontrollably.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, struggling to keep a straight face. “Oh Beesley, there’s lots of fun to be had with Cool Whip – or hadn’t you heard?”

“I hadn’t, actually.” She told him, feeling a little bit of a blush on her cheeks, that lovely tingle low in her belly again.

Then he pulled out a bag of dark chocolate truffles. “These…? Well, I’m not sure why I got these, other than the fact that they seemed decadent…and this is our big romantic weekend, so….”

“Nice.” She nodded. When he then produced a carton of mushrooms, she burst out laughing at him.

“What?” He pretended to be offended. “You don’t find mushrooms sexy? Oh c’mon, Beesley – they are hot! Seriously, have you ever made love on a bed of mushrooms?”

Her shoulders were shaking as her hand covered her mouth, then she choked out, “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Totally.” He flashed her a grin, then pulled out a package of chicken breasts, along with butter and cooking wine, a few other ingredients in the bag. “They’re for…my famous chicken marsala!”

“Really?” She looked excited. “We’re making chicken marsala?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I’m making chicken marsala and spinach orzo; you will be sitting at the counter keeping me company while I do so.”

She couldn’t help but smile at him, and then, just because she felt like it – just because she could -- she suddenly rushed toward him, hurling herself into his arms with a giddy giggle. He laughed, falling backward a little with the force of her hug, his arms instantly circling her as he lifted her for a moment off of her feet. She hugged him tight for a few seconds, then pulled back as he set her on her feet again, saying, “Jim…this is just…the best.”

He gave her a quick kiss, then said, “Well don’t speak too soon; you haven’t tasted it yet.”

“Oh…but I have.” It slipped out before she could stop herself.

“Beesley!” He exclaimed, looking genuinely shocked at her, shaking his head. “I had no idea you were so naughty.”

“But you love it.” Her eyes gleamed. “And just so you know, I’ve never been this naughty before – seriously. You must bring it out in me.”

He was glad to hear it. “I try.” Then he said, “Okay, so I need to go take a shower, change clothes, clean up a little. Do you mind….?”

“Can I watch?” She was having a ball, gazing up at him and twisting back and forth, striking a perfect balance between innocent little girl and sex kitten.

He tried to look disapprovingly at her, but he failed miserably, shaking his head at her. “Beesley…c’mon, what am I? Just a sex object?”

She looked at him with a wide-eyed, serious face, then said solemnly, thoughtfully, “No…I was thinking you’d be useful to have around to kill bugs, too.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, taking a step toward her, gazing down at her with a dangerous gleam in his eye. “You are so going to pay for talking trash, you know.”

Her smile widened as she gazed up at him, grasping the bottom of his tee-shirt in one hand, somehow managing to look both innocent and terribly seductive as she said quietly, “Bring it on, Halpert.”

Jesus, he thought. She’s killing me. He wanted her so much that he forced himself to suddenly turn away, saying loudly, “Okay, I have GOT to get in the shower if we’re going to eat before midnight!”

“Okay, fair enough.” She told him, then added, “I’ll just stay in here then – you know, so I’m not tempted to follow you in the bathroom.”

She could hear him laughing at her even as he disappeared down the hall to her bedroom.

He emerged ten minutes later, and when she glanced up at him, she had to do a double take. He had changed clothes and was wearing a pair of old faded jeans with a white button down shirt; she could see his chest hair peeking out of the top of it, which made that feeling in her belly quicken. His hair was tousled as usual, light stubble on his face, and he looked incredible. She was touched that he’d gone to the effort of looking nice for her, instead of just wearing the usual tee-shirt. She knew without asking that he had worn the nicer shirt in honor of their romantic weekend.

“Wow….” She stood, making her way to him, pausing to stand in front of him and gaze up at him. When she was close to him, she caught a familiar scent – it was the scent she associated with him, that intoxicating mix of something clean but spicy, a hint of patchouli maybe. She’d just never been able to smell it quite so distinctly before. “My god, what are you wearing? What smells so good?”

He laughed at her when she stood on her tiptoes, burying her face in his neck as she inhaled deeply. She could feel him blushing, and when she pulled back, he looked embarrassed.

“Okay, so I have this overzealous aunt –“ He began, but she interrupted him.

“Oh my god – your aunt sniffs at you like I just did? That’s sick!”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Beesley, you scare me sometimes. No, as I was saying, I have this overzealous aunt who…worries excessively about my status as a single guy; she’s always giving me these bizarre helpful hints and things, and…well, she gave me this cologne for Christmas a couple of years ago ---“

He looked completely embarrassed, and Pam grinned at him. “If you think I’m going to pick on you for wearing cologne…well, you’d be right if it didn’t smell so damned good! So tell me what it is.”

His blush deepened. “Gucci Rush.”

Her eyebrows raised, and she couldn’t help but say, “It sounds hilarious just to hear you say those words – BUT…damn, Halpert. Keep it up. I love it.”

He shook his head at her again, then shooed her out of his way, saying, “Okay, you sit right over there and keep me company while I cook.”

“You really won’t let me help at all?” She asked.

“Nope. Just talk to me.” He had turned his back already and began opening the chicken. She couldn’t believe it – one, that he was making dinner for her and refusing to let her help, and two, that he’d instructed her to talk to him. She felt so guilty whenever she found herself comparing him to Roy, but she couldn’t help it; maybe it was because she’d been with Roy for so long, or maybe it was because Jim was just so wildly different from Roy – in any case, she was constantly struck by how…amazing Jim was, what a contrast he represented.

Roy hadn’t made dinner for her in years – not since before they’d been engaged. In his defense, he hated to cook, whereas Jim genuinely seemed to enjoy it.

But Roy had also been impatient with her when she’d chattered on at him about the less important things. He did listen when it was a big deal, but he really grew impatient when she tried to talk about the more mundane details of her day, like how Angela had been just jaw-droppingly rude, saying after Pam had suggested green streamers for Meredith’s birthday party, “Green is kind of whorish.”

Not only had he been unable to see the humor in that, but he’d not even wanted to hear it. When he hadn’t responded, Pam had asked, “Can you believe she said that?”

He’d looked at her blankly, then: “Are you seriously upset about that? Jesus, Pam, let it go.”

“Are you serious?” She’d asked incredulously, not at his advice, but at the fact that he was so indignant that she was sharing details of her day.

“What?” He shrugged. “You know she’s a tight-ass Christian, so why are you surprised?”

After a while, he’d stopped even pretending to listen.

And now here was Jim instructing her to talk to him – and he meant it. For some reason, she felt compelled to tell him the story of what Angela had said over a year earlier – so she did.

He’d stopped chopping the onion in his hand as soon as he heard her say, “And Angela said in this really judgmental voice, ‘I think green is kind of whorish.’”

He turned to her then, an eyebrow raised, disbelief on his face. “She said that? She actually said that?”

“Yes.” Pam smiled at him.

“Oh my god!” He’d thrown his head back then, laughing in delight, then shaking his head as Pam watched him, feeling as though she wanted to just immerse herself in him, in this….

She loved watching him work; as she watched the way he moved around the kitchen and handled the various ingredients – chopping the mushrooms deftly, flouring the chicken, squinting as he adjusted the temperature on the stove eyes – she was reminded of the way he’d been so graceful on the basketball court. For the millionth time she found herself wondering how on earth she could possibly have ever managed to even pretend that all she wanted from this man was his friendship. But even though she’d known him well and suspected that he had even more to offer, she never could’ve dreamed he’d be so amazing.

She couldn’t stand it; she knew she should sit there and keep chattering at him, should ignore that slow burn that had risen in her at the sight of him when he came out of the bedroom, but she just couldn’t help herself. She stood and crept up behind him on silent feet, pressing herself against his back as he stood at the kitchen sink washing a red pepper.

“Hey….” His voice was soft, surprised. She slipped under one of his arms then, moving to stand facing him, her back to the sink, her body dangerously close to his. Their eyes met and held for a second, and she couldn’t stand it anymore; she stood on her toes, pulling him down to her as she pressed her lips to his.

Their lips held for a moment, and she could tell that he was trying to bring himself to pull back; he groaned slightly as she moved her hand from his cheek, sliding it down his neck, past his chest, over the snap on his jeans, sliding past it, down further until she found what she was looking for.

“Jesus, Pam…” He moaned against her lips, then tried to back away. “You have to trust---“

But she wasn’t having any of it; she kissed him even harder, drawing him to her, one hand on the back of his head.

“What are you—“ He began, but he didn’t finish, because she cut him off with another long kiss. He gave into it, the red pepper in his hand falling into the sink with a dull thud as he kissed her hard for a minute or two, then finally pulled back, gasping for breath, his cheeks flushed, lips red and swollen.

“Okay….” He took a step away from her, his hand moving to rub the back of his neck. “Okay, you have to…give me a minute here.”

“Why?” She was smiling at him.

“Because….” He smiled at her then, and she could see that he was regaining his composure. “I promise you, Beesley, you can do whatever you want to me after dinner.”

She loved the sound of that.

“But you have to let me make dinner for you; it’s part of the plan.” He told her, then, “I mean, remember, this is our big romantic weekend – our first romantic weekend, so it’s got to be perfect, better than you even envisioned it.”

The flutter she felt in her stomach this time stemmed more from her emotions, as she found herself thinking, I can’t believe how much this man loves me; I can’t believe how hard he’s trying to make this so terrific, when it already has exceeded any of my expectations….

She swallowed hard, then said, “Fair enough. But you’re mine later, Halpert.”

“Oh believe me….” His eyes fell to her lips for a second. “You can have all of me – whatever you want.”

His dinner was as incredible as he was; she couldn’t believe it – that he could cook, too. She was starting to suspect that there was nothing the man couldn’t do. Chicken marsala? Spinach orzo? Seriously?

When dinner was over, he insisted that she remain seated, instructing her again to just sit and talk to him while he did the dishes, then threatened her if she even dared to think of moving. (“I will throw a fit so like one of Angela’s that you will not believe it. ‘Green is kind of whorish’ will pale in comparison, believe me. Don’t make me, Beesley.”)

So she let herself relax, watching him as he filled the sink with soapy water, loving how broad his shoulders were, the sight of that shirt straining over his back as he washed the dishes. And the sight of him in jeans? Good god. She was grateful that he didn’t take advantage of casual Fridays, because….damn.

She couldn’t help but giggle when he pulled the strawberries out of the fridge, moving to wash them in the sink. He heard her and turned to glance at her over his shoulder.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, and she could tell he was having a hard time keeping a straight face.

“Oh…nothing.” She snorted, unable to stop herself.

“Beesley, we may need to have a talk about the influence that Michael has on you…because that’s like the third time I’ve heard you snicker just like him.”

“Suck it, Halpert.”

His eyebrow raised, then he said, something wicked in his eyes, “You might want to come up with another directive to insult me with – just saying.”

She laughed, head thrown back, the sound conjuring for him images of Christmas when he’d been a child, of lying under the tree staring up in wonder at the lights.

When he’d washed the strawberries, he put them on a plate, then took out a bowl and scooped the Cool Whip in it. He could feel her eyes on him, watching his every move, and he loved it. He brought the berries and cream to the table, returned to the kitchen for the champagne and two glasses, then went to open the bottle as he stood next to the table, Pam watching him, the look on her face one of complete adoration…fascination.

When he’d poured the champagne, he raised his glass, eyes meeting hers. “To us….to our first romantic weekend – the first of many, I hope.”

He felt shy for a moment; even though she’d been so incredible, he had spent years – literally years – pining for her, fairly certain that he was picking up on the fact that she seemed to feel more for him…but never really being sure. Even now, despite all that had happened, he felt that tiny twinge of insecurity, as if she might suddenly come to her senses and say that she had to leave, go home to Roy.

As if she could read his mind, she smiled softly, eyes meeting his as she said in a low voice, “To us. And yes, this is the first of many, many weekends like this. I mean…. I keep looking at you, thinking you’ve amazed me as much as you possibly can, and then you do something else that’s just…incredible. You’re just – you’re it, Jim.”

The words had slipped out before she could stop herself, and she was momentarily embarrassed. Had she said too much?

But then she saw the look on his face…just raw, vulnerable, and so full of love that she had to look away for a minute.

“Hey….” His voice was so soft. “Don’t do that.”

He shook his head, then, “You just don’t realize…. You have nothing to fear from me, nothing at all. All I want – all I’ve wanted for so long – is you.”

She smiled, tears stinging her eyes; when he saw them, it was almost an instant reaction – his eyes shone a little brighter. They exchanged a glance then, a silence passing between them; they raised their glasses, touching them together, then at the same time said, “To us.”

He grinned, almost expecting her to jinx him again, but she didn’t; instead, she took a sip of her champagne, never moving her eyes from his.

“So….” He was watching her expression carefully. “Would you care to dance with me, Beesley? I mean, I’m fairly certain you owe me one – since you so heartlessly said the swaying didn’t count.”

For a second she couldn’t speak. Was he serious….? Oh my god.

“I only said that because I went home that night thinking about you, couldn’t get you out of my mind because I was wishing we could spend every night on that roof, and it really freaked me out.” She blurted before she could stop herself. He cocked his head at her, lips in a small smile, thinking, amazing….

Then she gave him a coy smile and said, “Yes, I would love to dance with you.”

He pushed his chair back, standing and offering her a hand. She let him lead her to the middle of the living room floor, pulling her gently to him, his arms resting lightly on her waist, his chin almost on the top of her head. He was so much taller than she, but it didn’t matter; somehow, their proportions seemed perfect to her…she’d take resting her head on his chest over laying it on his shoulder any day, because with her cheek against him, she could hear his heart beating. 

She wasn't surprised when the song that was next on the playlist was Train's "Love Will Come Through.  She found herself thinking, Of course....She felt slightly giddy, almost drunk, as if somehow the gods were smiling on them and had arranged for that song to be playing when she danced with him for the first time. It was as if fate had decided to reward her for all the years of pretending, of settling, of fighting against what she felt for Jim; fate seemed to be rewarding her for making the right choice by just handing her a weekend so perfect that it exceeded even her own ridiculously idealistic expectations.

His thoughts ran along the same course: gratitude, disbelief, awe. It was perfection, sheer perfection, and had been since he’d walked into her apartment the night before. She loved him; he knew it with a certainty that shook him, only because he knew on a very instinctive, almost visceral level that this was the woman he’d spend the rest of his life with. He just knew it, knew it with a conviction that would have scared him if he hadn’t been longing for this for so many years, if he hadn’t been waiting and hoping for so long….

It was delicious and frustrating and almost awe-inspiring to stand there in his arms, swaying gently, feeling him against her, breathing in the delicious scent of him as they danced while that songn played in the background. It had made her freeze when she'd heard it in his car on Michael's birthday, when they were on their way to Rite Aid.  She'd been startled because the lyrics were so apropos, so fitting, and the look on his face - flushed, caught, flustered - betrayed all that he was feeling.  In that single instant so much had rushed over her: This reminds him of me, and that's why he's so caught off guard; these lyrics must be the kind of things he thinks, the things he doesn't share with me because he can't - because we can't. 

If I told you a secret 

You won't tell a soul

Will you hold it and keep it alive

Cause it's burning a hole

and I can't get to sleep

and I can't live alone in this lie

So look up

Take it away

Don't look down the mountain

If the world isn't turning

Your heart won't return

anyone, anything, anyhow

So take me, don't leave me

Take me, don't leave me

Baby love will come through

it's just waiting for you

Well I stand at the crossroads

of highroads and low roads

And I've got a feeling it's right

If it's real what I'm feeling

There's no makebelieving

the sound of the wings of the flight of a dove

Take it away

Don't look down the mountain

If the world isn't turning

your heart won't return

anyone, anything, anyhow

So take me, don't leave me

Love will come through

It's just waiting for you

She’d never even dreamed it would be this perfect, this overwhelming. During the interminable months that they’d played by their rules, she had fantasized incessantly about what it would be like to finally give in to it – the attraction, the emotion, the…sheer force of it all. But even her hyper-romantic, idealistic imagination hadn’t been able to conjure this.

She pulled back to gaze up at him, and when their eyes met, his pupils dilated even as she watched; she felt that twinge, that delicious, exquisite desire looming, threatening to take over. She could feel him hard against her, and his scent was absolutely maddening.

Without realizing it, they stopped swaying to the music, eyes locked, both breathing a bit too heavy. And then slowly, slowly he lowered his lips to hers, but only for an instant – it was a light, feathery kiss, one that sent a tremor down her spine.

When he spoke, his voice was throaty, deep. “I want you to let me make love to you.”

Her eyes instantly closed, her stomach tightening at his expression, his tone, what he’d said. She knew immediately what he meant – not that he thought he had to ask her permission, but that he wanted it to be all about her this time, that he wanted her to just let go…to surrender completely to him.

She couldn’t say anything, could only stare at him – his eyes, his lips.

“Is that okay?” His voice was so low, barely above a whisper.

She nodded, unable to speak, feeling almost as if the room were spinning – and she hadn’t had that much champagne.

He stood stock still, eyes locked on hers, neither of them speaking for several long moments that felt infinite. And then he lowered his lips to hers again, kissing her slowly, luxuriously, as if they had all the time in the world. For the longest time, he just kissed her, over and over, as if it was all they were “allowed” to do; she felt sixteen again because of the sheer impatience, the lovely frustration at wanting more from him. Eventually, he’d pressed her against the wall, pushing up against her, doing nothing more than just kissing her, his hands roaming her back, her hair, while she found herself desperate for him…his hands, his touch, more of him; she wanted more…..

Just about the time she decided she couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled back, eyes again resting on her face; she felt absolutely dizzy for a second, like she might sway and fall to the floor.

“C’mon.” His voice was low and hoarse as he nodded his head toward the bedroom, the gesture itself causing that weakness to heighten, making her question whether or not she could manage to even walk to the bedroom. In her haze, she didn’t even notice it when he picked up the bowl of whipped cream and their two champagne glasses, twining them in two fingers as he followed her.

When she fell back on the bed, she realized for the first time what he’d brought with him, and she almost felt as though she were sinking into the bed just at the hint of what she suspected lay before her – Jim, a bowl of whipped cream in one hand, eyes glazed with desire, lips swollen, white shirt slightly askew, two glasses of champagne balanced between his long, graceful fingers.

It occurred to her inanely at that moment that if he’d asked her to marry him, she would have said yes on the spot.

The thought fled her mind when he handed her a glass of champagne, eyes on hers, only a hint of a smile on his lips. Each of them took a sip, and then he took her glass from her, moving to place it on the nightstand next to his own glass. She started to tremble in spite of herself when he turned his eyes back to her, gently easing her back so that her head rested on the pillow.

“Hey….you okay?” He noticed that she was shaking, and the concern on his face touched her.

“Oh yes….” She whispered, her tone almost a gasp.

“Good…just relax.” His voice was so soft, so deep.

He lowered his lips to hers again, gently, as if to calm her, his tongue tasting like champagne, then moved slowly, kissing down her neck, taking his time. She couldn’t stop trembling, feeling as though her body were completely acting of its own volition.

He could feel her shaking like a leaf beneath his touch, his lips, and he couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe that she was responding this way, but it only made him that much more determined to give her everything…..

He thought he’d lose control when he felt her fingers find their way to the buttons on his shirt, unbuttoning it languidly even as his lips moved against hers, eventually pushing it off his shoulders and to the floor. He forced himself to move slowly, despite the fact that he wanted to just tear the robe off of her, mainly because he knew exactly what lay underneath it; the image of her standing in the doorway in her bra and panties was burned into his mind, and he knew it would haunt him, likely at the most inopportune moments. But he didn’t care – she was his now.

He untied the sash of her robe slowly, his fingers deft, graceful, as if he’d done this a million times. She felt her breath catch in her throat when the knot slipped free, but he didn’t immediately pull apart the fabric; instead, he moved back to her neck, pressing his lips gently just beneath her ear, then again to her mouth, where they lingered long enough to make her writhe a bit.

Then he slowly, slowly pushed aside the folds of the fabric, his breath catching at the sight of her body. He was certain he’d never seen anything more incredible, and he wondered if it was just because he was so fucking in love with her, or if it was that she was just that amazing…. He was sure it was both, had to be both.

He lowered his lips again to hers, reaching out with one hand to dip his fingers into the Cool Whip, the other hand deftly unhooking her bra; she raised slightly on her elbows, helping him push it off of her shoulders, tossing it to the floor. Then, lips still pressed to hers, he trailed his fingers down from her clavicle to her belly button, leaving a path of the whipped cream in their wake. She gasped at his touch, at the chill of the whipped cream…. When he saw tiny goose bumps raise on her skin, he wasn’t sure if it was the temperature or his touch.

She didn’t dare to breathe when his lips followed the path his fingers had taken, passing over the cool trail of whipped cream, his tongue hot as it moved down her collarbone, lingering exquisitely on her breasts, then down past her belly button, farther down, moving expertly, causing her to clutch his hair and writhe against her own volition, whispering his name over and over.

His hands, his tongue…. She found herself thinking absently that he knew exactly what he was doing, that he was so fucking good at this, as she wondered whether or not she could handle it; she never wanted it to stop, but at the same time, she wanted more than his tongue inside her; she wanted him….

He didn’t stop, even when she tried to gently nudge him, whispering his name in agony, wanting his lips on hers, ready to feel him inside of her; he simply reached out to take hold of her hand, loving it when she clutched his fingers, moaning again.

He didn’t stop until he felt those tremors rising in her stomach; he thought he might not be able to control himself when he realized that he could actually feel them coming on, but he held on, waiting…waiting….

When he finally allowed himself to give in to her pleas, moving to press his lips to hers as he pushed inside of her, her back arched and she moaned again, saying his name, begging him not to stop; he heard her say she loved him, but it was muffled in the heat that clouded his mind. When he felt himself approaching dangerously close to the edge, he stopped moving, trying to quell the rising flood in him.

“Whoa….don’t move. Just…give me a second.” He whispered to her, almost panting in her ear. He didn’t want this to be over, not just yet, no matter how much he was aching.

She tried, tried desperately to be still, but she couldn’t stand it; after a few minutes, she suddenly leaned up, pulling his face to hers, whispering, “Please” just before she pressed her lips on his; she began to move, hands clutching him, nails in his back as he moaned.

“You’re – I can’t….” He didn’t finish, and she was glad; all she wanted was to make him lose control. When she felt him tense all over, when she heard him gasp her name twice, she knew he was close, so she tightened around him, whispering again in his ear, “Please, Jim….”

He shuddered all over, a moan escaping his lips, his body slick with sweat as she clutched him, wondering if it would always be this incredible, this breathtaking.

They held onto each other for what felt like several long minutes, not speaking, not moving, just breathing…first rapidly, then gradually returning to normal breaths. She loved the weight of him on top of her, his arms still around her, hips still in line with hers; loved the scent of him, the feel of his damp hair beneath her fingers.

When he pulled back, he did so slowly, almost as if it hurt. Their eyes met, and she wanted to say something, but she couldn’t bring herself to for a few seconds; she was still overwhelmed at it all – at his eyes, his touch, just…him.

An hour earlier, she wouldn’t have believed that she could possibly feel closer to him, but now…now she did somehow. It was as if in those thirty minutes, they’d crossed yet another threshold.

“This is really it, isn’t it?” She whispered, voice choked, the words escaping just as they entered her mind, before she could even stop herself. But she couldn’t help it; she just felt overwhelmed, lying there looking at the face she’d come to love so much, wondering how on earth she’d ever thought she could marry another man.

He didn’t hesitate, didn’t flinch, just gazed harder at her, those eyes scanning her face – her eyes, cheeks, lips, then back up. He knew he was going to cry as soon as he’d heard what she’d said – caught her tone, the expression on her face. After so many months and years of waiting for this, he still found himself completely overwhelmed at the sheer force of it…the absolutely surreal realization that she felt it too, now….that she loved him.

“God, Pam…yes. This is it.” His voice was hoarse, and she felt tears start to sting her eyes. She felt stupid for a second as she realized that she was actually going to cry again, so she shook her head.

“Hey….” He pulled her close to him, moving to lie on his back, cradling her head against his chest. When he felt one of her tears drop on his chest, the tears welled up in his eyes, making him swallow hard.

“I’m so sorry.” She sobbed, trying to laugh, but failing. “I don’t know why I keep ruining things by crying like this; it’s totally stupid—“

He silenced her by lifting her chin, making her look at him. When she did, she saw the tears standing out in his eyes, which made her laugh briefly – a tender, short little laugh that emoted so much. They gazed at each other for a few minutes, each certain of what the other was thinking: Yes, this is really, really it.

Then she sniffled and said, “If you weren’t so fucking good in bed, I wouldn’t cry like this, you know.”

He threw back his head and laughed then, pulling her closer. Then he suddenly exclaimed, “Oh my god! The strawberries! Beesley – we didn’t even use the strawberries!”

She laughed, too, then asked, “What were you planning on doing with the strawberries, exactly? We didn’t ‘use’ them? That makes me feel a little nervous.”

He grinned at her, but that tenderness lingered in his eyes; she could tell he wasn’t ready – or perhaps able – to let go of the moment just yet, one of his fingers trailing her cheek as he said, “Well, Beesley….it’s okay, really; I mean, the strawberries don’t really work unless you’ve got a goat and some mushrooms to go with them.”

He loved the way her giggle started low in her stomach, gurgling up into her throat, sounding for all the world like the wonderful belly laugh of a small child. The sound of her laughter got him started, and they lay there laughing like kids for several minutes, then she sighed deeply.

“Wow…. I tell you, Halpert, you’ve spoiled me.”

“Oh?” He propped up on an elbow, and she recognized the gesture now as one of his mannerisms that she’d never been privy to before. The realization that she knew a completely different side of him now – such an intimate side – was delicious.

“Mmm-hmm.” Her eyes closed for a moment, and he watched her, somehow drawing comfort at the sheer contentment on her face.

Then he couldn’t help himself: “Wow.”

There was that giggle again, making his smile widen. “What?”

“Nothing.” She was looking shy now, so his hands immediately went into tickle position, fingers resting gently at the top of her ribs as he marveled again at how impossibly tiny she seemed.

“Start talking.”

“Okay! Okay!” She laughed for a few minutes more, then: “Well, I don’t know if I should ask this or not….”

“Spill it, Beesley.”

“Okay.” She propped up to smile at him, eyes wide, looking so incredibly innocent. “Have you ever done this before?”

He blinked at her blankly for a few minutes, then sucked in a breath. “Wow…this is awkward…. Well, yes, Pam; I have had sex before. This wasn’t my first time.”

“Oh my god!” She smacked at his bare chest, eliciting an indignant “Ow!”

“That’s not what I meant!” She was smiling, but he caught a glimmer of something more serious in her eyes…was that insecurity?

He cleared his throat, catching one of her hands in his and bringing it to his lips. “If you’re asking me whether or not I’ve ever had a weekend like this before with someone else, the answer is no. Not even close.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He smiled at her, reaching a hand to smooth the hair from her forehead gently. He forced himself not to ask her the same question – after all, she and Roy had been engaged, had been together for almost ten years, so surely there must’ve been many times when---

“Me neither.” Her voice was soft, eyes wide and so amazingly innocent.

He wanted to sigh with relief, but he was actually too caught off guard to do so. The notion that Roy had never wanted to have a weekend like this with her was…simply unfathomable.

“Then it’s official.” He smiled.

“What is?”

“This is officially christened the first Halpert-Beesley-palooza.” He grinned.

“That’s an awful name!”

“It is, isn’t it?” He asked, then without thinking said, “So if we get married, you have to either take my name or keep your own – no hyphenating.”

It had seemed so natural for him to say it that he didn’t even realize for a moment the implications of what he’d said, the gravity of it. As he suddenly realized, he felt a blush staining his cheeks, a sense of panic, but she was looking at him with soft eyes.

“Deal.” Her voice was low, soft. “I’d probably just keep my own name, I think.”

“Sounds about right.” He smiled at her, flattered and thrilled to the core, both at what she’d implied – that she could actually envision herself married to him – as well as what she’d said. He liked it that she thought she’d keep her own name, because it was so different from who she’d been with Roy. He wanted her to be strong, to have a firm grasp of her own identity; he never wanted to stifle it the way Roy had.

He couldn’t help but add, “And besides, I couldn’t possibly get used to calling you ‘Halpert.’ I mean…how lame would that be? It’d totally lose its comedic effect; it’d be like I was challenging or insulting myself, and that’s just wrong.”

She laughed, though for a split second, the thought of sharing his last name warmed her throughout, but somehow, part of what was so wonderful about Jim was that he nurtured her identity, her self….. So she giggled at him, then: “So what’ll we call this in the meantime? This? Us?”

“Hmm….” She loved the rumble of his voice deep in his chest. “Well, if we followed the Michael Scott lead---“

“Ew! Don’t talk about Michael when we’re naked.” She made a face.

He raised his eyebrows at her, contemplating a zinger. But then, “Excuse me. He would say that we should do a Brangelina thing, right? So….Pim?”

She laughed at him. “That sounds like some sort of twisted word game – hey, we should totally make up a Pim game!”

“Absolutely.” He smiled. “First thing Monday morning: let’s make it a priority.”

“But no… Hey! How about Jam? The first weekend of Jam?”

“Nice.” He nodded. “I like it – lots of connotations there – like the sugary sweet, fruity stuff, but also like a good song maybe….”

“Or being stuck together in an elevator.” The words slipped out of her, and he pretended to be shocked, peering down at her in mock indignation.

“What’s that?” He smiled wider when her blush deepened. “You harboring a little fantasy there, Beesley?”

“Maybe.” She raised an eyebrow at him, and he smiled again, touching her cheek, then he murmured in that sexy voice she’d never heard him use before they’d gotten together, “Well, we’ll have to see what we can do about making that a reality…..”

She felt her stomach catch, then he suddenly groaned and said, “I really don’t know how we’re ever going to get anything done.”

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“I mean that….” He made a face, then, “Well, I know that every day won’t be like this weekend, but…c’mon, all I’m going to want to do is make love to you—“

She started to sing the song, and he pressed his hand to her lips. “Don’t you dare cheapen this, Beesley; don’t you dare soil our love by singing a cheesy Heart song.”

She threw back her head and laughed, just laughed and laughed for several minutes, then: “Hey….so how about a bubble bath?”

His eyebrow raised. “Do you mean a bubble bath…or a ‘bubble bath’?”

“I told you that bubble bath is NOT code for sex! Jeez, Halpert, pay attention!” She pretended to be exasperated at him and he laughed.

“Let’s do it.” He nodded.

When she stood, her legs felt shaky, so she said, “If we keep this up, I’m not going to be able to walk on Monday.”

“Pam Beesley!”

“What?” She gave him her most innocent look as she walked to the tub, then reached to turn on the water, picking up a bottle of bubble bath and squeezing it into the swirling mass that filled the tub.

He tried to look disapproving, but he couldn’t pull it off.

Their second “real” bath (as she put it) was much like their first: they alternated between the serious and the mundane. She confessed to him that she’d been keeping the secret of Angela and Dwight, and he was mortally offended.

“What?” His voice had cracked, almost as if he were in the midst of puberty, which made her laugh.

“I am totally serious; it’s the truth.” She grinned at him as he sat across from her in the tub, his hair tousled and damp, bubbles again up to his chest.

“Wait a minute….let me get this straight.” He raised a wet hand to his lips, then said, “You mean to tell me that you’ve known ever since last January that Dwight and Angela are –“

“Ew!” She interrupted him, then began shaking her head, murmuring, “No, no, no, no…..”

He laughed at her, then asked, “Seriously? You’re not making this up?”

She raised a hand, a gurgling sound following the motion, the water trickling from her wrist. “Honest. They’re…an item. Jim, you should’ve seen her face when he had the concussion.”

“Wow.” He fell silent for a moment, then, “That’s kind of sweet, actually.”

It occurred to her that, had they still been in the absolutely forced and contrived “just friends” mode, she would have cackled at him for saying something like that, only to mask the fact that such a statement revealed his own romantic streak, what an incredible man he really was.

Instead, she smiled softly and nodded. “Yeah… I don’t know; it humanizes Angela for me somehow. She just seems so…genuinely crazy about him.”

A comfortable silence fell as they gazed at one another from their opposite ends of the tub. He loved the sight of her with her hair in a tousled heap on top of her head, her lovely shoulders and clavicle so…elegant somehow. (As he’d told her earlier, he’d never noticed a clavicle before, but she’d made him suddenly feel as if he were a fanatic, an aficionado of sorts.)

She, in turn, loved watching him gesture with his hands the way he did when he was really excited, his chest bare, hair damp at the edges, sitting across from her in her tub. More than once as they sat talking, she found herself marveling at the whole scenario: I’m in my bathtub with Jim, and we’re gossiping just like we sometimes do at work….only we’re both naked, and he made love to me earlier, and it was incredible…. He is incredible….and he loves me. And I’m in love with him.

The most glorious part of all was the fact that she didn’t have to stifle those feelings anymore; she didn’t have to pretend, to feel guilty for the depth of her emotions when it concerned him. Instead, she could just immerse herself in the force of it all, wrapping herself in all that he was, all that he’d always been….all that he would always be.

They’d talked for a while when they’d climbed back in her bed, neither of them bothering with clothes this time; it felt so wonderful to just lie naked next to each other. (They’d actually discussed it and had come to a consensus: No clothes. Why should there be?)

Somehow the conversation turned again to the time when they’d been apart, when he’d believed she was married, and she’d assumed he had forced himself to move on. Music drifted softly through the room, as her ipod was still hooked to her speakers; song after song filled the room, providing the perfect balance for their silent pauses.

And then Jim had been surprised when the strains of Snow Patrol’s“Chasing Cars” had begun. He’d never forget the first time he’d heard it, driving to Stamford, feeling miserable, missing her already. It had haunted him ever since.

We’ll do it all, everything, on our own
We don’t need anything or anyone
If I lay here
If I just lay here, would you lie with me
and just forget the world?
I don’t quite know how to say
how I feel
Those three words they’re said too much
They’re not enough
If I lay here
If I just lay here would you lie with me
and just forget the world?
Forget what we’re told before we get too old
Show me a garden that’s bursting into life
Let’s waste time chasing cars around our heads
I need your grace to remind me
to find my own
If I lay here
If I just lay here, would you lie with me
and just forget the world?
Forget what we’re told before we get too old
Show me a garden that’s bursting into life
All that I am, all that I ever was
is here in your perfect eyes
They’re all I can see
I don’t know where, confused about how as well
Just know that these things will never change for us at all
If I lay here
If I just lay here, would you lie with me
and just forget the world?

“Hey…” His voice was hoarse, partly from the emotion, partly from the fact that it was nearing three in the morning and he’d made love to her four times in just under forty-eight hours. “I didn’t realize you knew that song.”

“Mmm-hmmm.” She murmured; he loved it that he felt the vibration of her words on his chest. She went on. “I heard it at the mall one day right after I moved in here. Made me cry on the spot.”

“Seriously?” His voice cracked a little.

“Seriously. Why?”

“Because I heard it on the way to Stamford, and….” He paused for a second, then, “Well, same effect, basically.”

He felt her shake her head slightly, then she said softly, “The line, ‘Show me a garden that’s bursting into life’ reminded me so much of you. I always dreamed of living in a house with a garden terrace…. I confessed that to the cameras the day that Jan came for the Women in the Workplace seminar. Remember, when you were so great about the internship, and Roy completely ruined it?”

He nodded, his voice throaty. “Yeah.”

“And I was talking to the camera that day about the whole garden terrace thing, and it was after you and I had that fight in the kitchen. God, Jim, I was such a bitch to you; I’m so sorry.”

“No…” He shook his head, hand touching her hair. “I was out of line; I shouldn’t have pushed you. It wasn’t my place.”

“Yes, it was. Or it should’ve been.” She could feel the tears threatening, and it occurred to her rather randomly that she’d never been this prone to tears before. Something about being with Jim brought her emotions close to the surface, always hovering….but in a way that made her feel truly alive.

“I was telling the camera about my terrace dream, and as I was saying it, I realized all of a sudden that it would never come true.” She paused. “And I knew in that moment that if I’d just let go, be with you, let you love me like you just so obviously…did, that that dream would come true. Because there’s something about you that brings out who I really am – it’s like you…cultivate my identity, nurture it without trying to claim it, without ever trying to stifle it. And I realized this on that day, but I just couldn’t….”

She started to cry, and his arm tightened around her. “Shhh…. You’re here now, right? So it’ll happen. I promise you, Pam; you’ll have that garden terrace.”

She cried even harder at his words, just because it was simply overwhelming….so him. And then, sniffling, she asked him, “So why did this song get to you? You didn’t even know about the garden thing.”

He hesitated, and by the time he started to speak, she was slowly calming down again. His voice was low, soft, as he said, “It was the last few lines – ‘all that I am/ all that I ever was/ is here in your perfect eyes/ They’re all I can see / I don’t know where / confused about how as well/ Just know that these things will never change for us at all.’”

He was silent for a minute, then, “Those words killed me, especially that last line, because it rang so true. I was on my way to a new place – new job, new state - for no reason other than to try to run from what I felt for you, and it was like that song came on as karma’s way of reminding me that I couldn’t escape it…that I’d never escape it. And…I mean, I thought you were getting married, so it was like I was suddenly faced with the realization that I’d spend the rest of my life alone, because I just knew instinctively somehow that I’d never be able to get over you; those feelings would never just….change, go away on their own.”

Her voice quivered a little as she said, “I’m so sorry I hurt you….”

“No…” He pulled her closer, planting a kiss on her forehead. “It’s okay. I mean, I hear that song now, and all I hear is the….hope in it, you know? It’s hard for me to believe now that I ever heard this as a sad song, because now, it just seems filled with so much…promise, so much hope for what’s ahead. You know?”

She didn’t answer him, only murmured, “I love you.”

She could tell he was smiling as he whispered, “I love you, too.”

She’d fallen asleep with her head on his bare chest, one of his hands twined into her hair.
________________________________________________________________________

At some point in the middle of the night, she’d awakened to the feel of his lips on her breast. She wondered briefly if she was dreaming, but when she’d reached out and felt his soft hair beneath her fingers, it had all come rushing back to her. She wasn’t dreaming: This was Jim, and he was hers; she was his. Life was almost perfect.

She’d only half awakened, writhing beneath his touch, whispering his name as her hand slid down from his chest, farther down, loving the feel of him….

She didn’t remember anything else, just moaning a little, twisting in impatience but not even really being awake, feeling his lips leave a damp trail from her clavicle to her neck…then she slipped into a darkness permeated with desire, the desire seeming to somehow smear her consciousness.

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The next morning, she woke up first. Her head was on his chest, one of his hands resting loosely on her waist, her breasts pressed against him, the hair on his chest tickling her when he breathed.

She blinked slowly as she emerged into consciousness; the first thing she remembered was the middle of the night. Had they made love….? No, just had sort of indulged in that passion without even waking up.

Nice, she thought. Just….delicious.

As if he could sense a shift in her breathing, he suddenly opened his eyes, blinking for a few seconds, then: “Hi.”

She smiled, lifting her head from his chest to say, “Hey.”

A comfortable silence fell, his hand on the small of her back, one of her hands absently touching the hair on his chest.

Then he said, “So….did something happen in the middle of the night, or did I dream that?”

She laughed at him. “That was the first thing that I thought this morning! I think something happened, but not everything….”

He grinned. “I prefer to think of it as a little two am excursion.”

For some reason, that struck her as terribly funny, so she laughed for a solid two minutes before sighing against his chest.

“So….breakfast?” She asked.

“Sure.” His voice was a little hoarse, then: “Hey, I know! Why don’t we have fresh fruit! I hear the strawberries are good this time of year….”

“You and your strawberries, Halpert.” She pretended to grumble, moving as if she’d get out of bed. But he pulled her back, planting a kiss on top of her head (and in doing so, faithfully observing one of their newest rules: number seven: “No kissing in the morning before teeth brushing.”).

“I’m being so innocent, Beesley, and you’re just…well, it hurts me that you think I have only one thing on my mind.” He tried – quite successfully, she thought -- to look hurt and pitiful, his expression reminding her of so many other times….

“You are shameless.” She informed him, then swept the covers aside and disappeared into the bathroom.

They’d chopped the strawberries together, comparing techniques. He insisted that the berries maintained their “dignity” (as he put it) when they were simply cored and halved, while she insisted that it made more sense to cut them into quarters, so they were more manageable on a fork.

They’d settled into her living room shortly after breakfast, luxuriating in the glory of just talking, asking each other absolutely anything…and answering completely honestly.

“Oh my god.” She looked across the living room floor at him. It was close to two in the afternoon now, and she had a glass of wine in her hand – initially startled at the thought of drinking wine in the middle of the day on a Sunday (gasp!), but then realizing with a slow smile the delicious promise of such an idea.

He’d asked her about Casino Night, when they’d played poker, and she’d said, her voice husky, “I’m going to take you all in.”

“I didn’t mean for it to come out.” She shook her head, then, “Jim, if you had any idea how….incredibly…I don’t know – devastating - you looked. And it was like you weren’t even trying to hide it, what you felt for me, and I don’t know…. I’d just never seen you look like that before; even though I’d always been attracted to you on some level, that night at the card table was the first time….”

Her voice trailed off, her eyes lowering as a flush of embarrassment stained her cheeks.

“What?” He was having a hard time concentrating; it was beyond surreal to hear her describe that night in intonations that he himself would’ve used.

“I don’t know…” She shook her head, and he caught her hand, both of them momentarily distracted by a loud clap of thunder in the background as a ferocious storm raged outside.

“What….?” He asked again, his voice so soft; when she looked up, the expression he wore reminded her so much of the way he’d looked on Casino Night that she couldn’t help but be honest, keep talking.

“You were just so…..” She couldn’t continue for a moment, then: “so obvious in how you felt for me; you were looking at me like I was the most….incredible woman in the room – “

He interrupted her then, his eyes on the floor, then rising to lock in with hers. “You were.”

Whenever that gravelly tone was in his voice, she couldn’t help but be reminded of what it felt like when he was inside her, because when he moaned, that same note was in his voice.

She felt weak for a second, then: “And when I said I’d take you all in –“

In spite of himself, he blurted, “So you knew what you were saying? You knew what that did to me?”

Slowly, slowly, she raised her eyes to his, understanding again what authors meant when they described someone’s gaze as burning…..

“Yes.” Her voice was soft, throaty. “I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did, but as soon as I said it…..”

His head bowed, and she was reminded of how heartbroken he’d been when he’d told her he was in love with her and she’d been so fucking….unresponsive, dishonest, implying that he’d misinterpreted her actions.

A long silence fell, and then, because she felt so terribly guilty and couldn’t stand it anymore, she asked, “So hey, how about some strawberries?”

He’d smiled gamely at her (of course he had; it seemed to be his mission in life to make things easier for her, to absolve her of how ridiculously stupid she’d been in the past) and said, “Sure, sounds great. I’ll help you.”

He’d stood then, following her into the kitchen, opening the fridge as she reached into her cabinets for dishes. Without even negotiating it, they somehow worked out that she would handle the Cool Whip and the dishes, while he would wash the berries.

And that had been fine until she’d suddenly turned to him, finding him seemingly immersed in washing each berry.

“I’m so sorry; I love you so much.” Her voice was hoarse.

“What?” He’d looked caught off guard for a minute.

“Casino Night – I was so wrong…..” She shook her head, and he immediately moved toward her, sensing that she was dangerously close to tears.

“Hey…whoa….” His voice was soft. “It’s okay….”

“No, it’s not.” She shook her head, looking up at him, taking in that face – god, that familiar face. “I love you – please tell me you believe that.”

There were tears in her eyes, and he was stunned at the intensity of her expression.

“I believe you, Pam.” His voice was hoarse, throaty.

“Do you?” She took a step closer to him, suddenly taking one of his hands and pulling it to her lips. “Because I love you so much that it’s hard to….breathe sometimes.”

He couldn’t speak, and he lost the capacity to breathe when he realized that she was taking his hand and guiding it toward the waistband of her pajamas. He could see in her face that maybe she’d had too much wine, but at the same time, he knew that it was just releasing her inhibitions.

“You can feel how much I want you.” She whispered, eyes glazed, then closing as his fingers touched her, sinking into her.

He couldn’t have explained how he’d ended up on top of her on the kitchen floor, only that it had started with a hot, sizzling kiss and progressed to her taking his hand and actually moving it beneath her pajamas, his eyes closing as he felt how slippery she was beneath his fingers, hearing her voice say softly, “Do you know how much I want you? How much I love you?”

He suspected that maybe it was the wine that was making her this bold, but he didn’t care; she was being real, uninhibited…and she wanted him.

He’d somehow ended up on top of her on her kitchen floor, her hands pushing frantically at his boxers, shoving them down past his knees. He couldn’t remember exactly how he’d she’d ended up completely naked, but there she was…..

He heard himself moan throatily, “Oh yeah…,” thinking very briefly as she guided him inside of her that it shouldn’t have been as exiting now as it had been the very first time, but somehow it was. Why? Was it that they were literally making love on her kitchen floor, the linoleum sticking to his back? Was it that every few minutes, a loud clap of thunder actually rattled the pictures on her walls, the rain falling in a sheet outside her kitchen window? Or was it that she’d shocked him by whispering, somewhere between a growl and a plea, “Give it to me, please….I want to feel you…..”?

He didn’t know, only was aware that he couldn’t handle this, that she was driving him slowly out of his mind, seeming all nails and teeth, rougher now than she’d been before, echoing his own needs, his own innermost thoughts…..

She had actually screamed his name when she came, his own moan rivaling hers a few minutes later. He felt dazed, dizzy as he came back to earth, as it was, lying on his back on her kitchen floor, she resting against his chest, completely spent, the sweat from both their bodies sticky….exquisite.

He couldn’t have said how long they’d lain there….fifteen minutes? Thirty? An hour?

Only that after a long while, he’d stood, helping her to her feet, leading her silently into the bathroom, where he reached to turn on the water, seizing the now familiar bottle of bubble bath that smelled just like her, squeezing some of it into the water.

Neither spoke as the tub filled; silence prevailed even as he slid down into the water, then helped her down into it as well, she sitting with her back to his chest. Silence must’ve have reigned supreme for at least half an hour as they both just tried to catch their breath, tried to….grasp the significance of this whole weekend, of all that had happened.

It was one of those comfortable silences that’s thick with understanding, a mutual understanding.

She couldn’t speak, only because she didn’t trust herself to articulate all that she felt for him. This is it; he’s the one. The realization kept passing through her mind, over and over, somehow never losing its impact, delicious every time. She felt numb, a little sore from the force with which he’d made love to her on the kitchen floor, from the way she’d wanted him to be a little rough….. Even that made her feel speechless.

He, in turn, couldn’t speak simply out of his absolute disbelief at how incredible it all was. She loved him; he knew it, had known it for a while, actually, but somehow, the realization never lost its force.

And then he’d said, his voice soft but echoing off the walls of the bathtub, “Wow.”

She started to giggle then, immediately whispering, “Oh my god!”

They’d laughed together for a few minutes, then she’d sloshed her way away from him, moving to the far end of the tub so that she could face him.

The flush on her cheeks was met by the one on his, as both just looked at each other in stunned silence for several long minutes.

Then she blurted, “I just want you to know that I have never in my life begged a man to ‘give it to me’!”

He threw his head back and laughed then, his shoulders shaking, hair on his bare chest gleaming. Then he settled down to smile at her, reminding her so much of the way he’d grinned at her on Casino Night (only now he was naked in her tub!), then said, “Well, Beesley, I’ve never made love to a woman on her kitchen floor before….have never even felt the slightest inkling to do so, in fact. But…I don’t know; seeing you handling that whipped cream, those dishes….

He shook his head, assuming an expression of mock ecstasy as she laughed at him. Then they’d both fallen silent, staring at one another. She was musing to herself how different he looked now than he had the day she’d met him; his hair was shorter now, and she could’ve sworn that he looked older somehow, more sophisticated….absolutely fucking devastating now. She’d thought he was cute from the moment she’d lain eyes on him, but now, she wondered how any woman could possibly look at him and not just feel overwhelmed at how incredibly gorgeous he was…..

“Jim….” His name escaped her lips in spite of herself.

“Hmmm?” His eyes still looked a little glazed.

“I love you….tell me it’ll never change.” What she’d said didn’t even make sense to her; the words had somehow tumbled out of her mouth.

“It’ll never change.” His eyes never left hers. “I promise you that; I’ve been in love with you for years, Pam Beesley, so trust me…. I’m not going anywhere.”

Just as they climbed out of the tub, she wrapping herself in a towel, another loud rumble of thunder shook the apartment, prompting her to jump. Jim instantly moved to put an arm around her.

“You okay?” He asked, prompting her to laugh in delight.

“Oh yes…. Here’s the thing, Halpert.” She loved being able to still relate to him like the best friend he’d always been to her, even though an hour before, she’d been begging him to make love to her on her kitchen floor. “I live for thunderstorms.”

“Oh really?” He asked, grinning down at her, then kissing the tip of her nose. “Good to know, Beesley; good to know.”

“Why?” She asked.

“No reason.” He gave her a sly little smile, then held the covers for her to climb into bed with him.

“Wow….” She sighed again, glancing at the clock; it was 6:06 pm now, and it was nearing time for them to start winding down, because they both had to go to work the next morning. It occurred to her that, for the first time in longer than she could remember, she felt truly excited about going to work the next day.

“So….” His voice was hoarse. “What now?”

“I don’t know.” She giggled, then, “But I have to be honest: after that last go round, I’m going to have to take a moratorium on the sex, because I am so sore!”

He chuckled then, trying at first to be discreet, then just dissolving into full-on laughter as she smacked his chest.

“I’m serious!”

“Well…” He did his best to sound serious and failed miserably. “I was just following your lead in the kitchen, you know….”

She giggled in the way that he’d grown to love so much, then: “Hey…so when you came over here Friday night, did you have any idea---“

He interrupted her, saying loudly, “NO IDEA, Beesley! If I’d had some idea, believe me, I’d have had a much better day Friday….a much better week, month for that matter!”

She laughed at him again, prompting him to chuckle, then burst into full-on laughter. They lay in silence for a few comfortable minutes.

“Hey….” His voice was hoarse. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes, actually.” She murmured back, then added, “Now that you mention it….I’m starving. But you’re not making dinner for me again.”

“Ouch.” He pretended to be hurt. “Was it that bad?”

“Please.” She propped up on an elbow, gazing down at him and running her finger along his jaw. “Your dinner was amazing, right on par with….the rest.”

“’The rest’?” His eyebrows rose. “So it’s not ‘bubble bath’ anymore; now it’s ‘the rest’?”

She laughed at him again, rewarding him with a smack to the chest. “You’re impossible. Come on; let’s figure out dinner.”

They’d settled on Chinese, primarily because there was a great place near her apartment that delivered, and there wasn’t a whole lot in her kitchen that they could make a meal out of. Plus, the storm raging outside hadn’t calmed in the least, so they weren’t eager to venture out in it.

By 8:30, they’d eaten dinner and had settled into the living room, having just started a discussion about what movie to watch when the power suddenly flickered, then went off entirely. They’d sat in silence for a minute, then both burst out laughing for some inexplicable reason.

“You see,” She told him as she stood, moving to grab her matches from a kitchen drawer. “This is why I have over thirty candles in the apartment….”

“Smart, Beesley – how very Boy Scout of you.” He nodded seriously at her, then grinned. She saw him notice something out of the corner of his eye – a book lying on her coffee table that he hadn’t noticed before.

He reached to pick it up, reading the title and looking at her quizzically: “Lasher?”

She blushed in spite of herself, then said, “It’s a sequel, actually, to The Witching Hour.”

She was fully prepared for him to make fun of her, but then she realized that that was Roy’s way, not Jim’s. Instead, he was perusing the back cover before he asked, “So what’s it all about?”

She began to tell him, then suddenly remembered the day she’d fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder during Michael’s interminable Diversity Day seminar. (See Away From the Cameras: Diversity Day.)

She couldn’t believe she was confessing the dream she’d had to him, but there they were; he seemed to be hanging on every word, looking fascinated. When she stopped speaking, he simply stared at her for a few minutes.

“Wait a minute….” He shook his head, eyebrow raising, then, “You mean to tell me that the day you fell asleep on my shoulder, you actually had a sexy dream about me? Are you making this up?”

“Swear to god.” She raised her hand, then, “My god, Jim, I was mortified; I was convinced that somehow you’d see right through me, know what I’d been thinking.”

He looked baffled then, “No way. I was too…dazed, in heaven just because you’d fallen asleep on my shoulder, and it had been the most perfect moment….”

They exchanged a quiet smile, then he picked up the book again. “So let’s see what this is all about, see if it can inspire some dreams, shall we?”

She laughed at him, loving the sight of him, wearing jeans and an old tee-shirt, hair deliciously tousled, his lips pursed as he opened the book and began to read. She settled back, sitting on the floor with her back against the couch, arms crossed as she listened to his voice, that deep, deep voice….

He opened it, perusing the page quickly, an amused expression settling over his features as he exclaimed, “Aha! Jackpot…. Wow, either this is a smutty book, Beesley, or I just happened upon a very fortuitous passage.”

She started to laugh at him, but another clap of thunder startled them both. He made a face, then cleared his throat as he began to read: “’What did you expect me to do?’ he asked. He leant down and kissed her again –“ (At this, Jim pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows, then whispered, “Oooh, scandalous!” causing her to laugh as he continued.)

“He leant down and kissed her again. She turned away. Her hair was wet now. She wanted to slide down into the water, but she feared she might not be able to bring herself back up. He crushed the rag in his hands, and began again to bathe her. He bathed her all over. He squeezed the water into her hair, washing it back from her forehead.

“She was so used to his scent that now she didn’t really smell it; she felt only a warm sense of his nearness and a deep enervating desire for him. Of course, desire for him.”

She didn’t realize until he’d stopped reading that she had closed her eyes at some point; it was just too…lovely to hear him read from one of her favorite texts – better still that the last two lines of the passage he’d read were such that she could have written them herself, because she was never unaware of the faintest hum beneath her skin borne of “a deep, enervating desire for him. Of course, desire for him.”

Then his voice broke through her thoughts, causing her to open her eyes as he said quietly, “Wow. Beautiful prose.”

“Are you serious?” She asked him, for some reason (read: nine years with Roy) expecting him to make fun of her.

“Yeah, why?” He looked surprised.

“Nothing, I just….” She shook her head, the rain pelting against her living room window. “I just thought for some reason that the writing…might not appeal to a guy.”

“Why not?” He asked, then an expression of understanding washed across his face as he realized why she’d said what she had. So he added, “You said this was a sequel – do you have the first one in the series?”

All she could do was stare at him, speechless. Was he serious?

“Yes, of course I do; the first one is my favorite book.” She told him.

“Well I’ve got to read it.” He told her, grinning at her as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

“Really?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Really.” He leaned to kiss her gently on the lips, then pulled back to gaze at her softly.

“So do you want to go to bed and read?” She asked.

“Sure – I mean, we’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow.” He told her as she stood, taking the hand he offered her.

“What do you mean?” She was confused.

“Oh c’mon, Beesley….it’ll be our first day in the office after….” His voice trailed off as he pursed his lips, raising his eyebrows, then, “And I suspect that – for me, anyway – it’s going to take A LOT of energy to keep from giving all of this away.”

She laughed at him, following him to her bedroom, reaching out to grab The Witching Hour off the shelf, then climbing into bed next to him, handing him the book.

They settled into the bed, having brushed their teeth and blown out all the candles but for those just next to the bed, he lying on his back, she curled sideways with her head against his chest, her copy of Lasher resting against him as she read, he holding The Witching Hour out to the side as his eyes scanned the pages.

Every so often, amazingly, he’d say softly something like, “Hey….wow, this is beautiful – listen to this….” And he’d read a passage to her, then ask, “Do you remember this? She’s really incredible with prose, isn’t she?”

Pam couldn’t believe it the first time he’d done it; it was amazing enough that he’d even wanted to read the book in the first place (she’d begged Roy for years to just give it a try, but he was never interested), much less that he was so enthralled by it that he read passages aloud…that he just got it.

And the first time he’d done it, she’d suddenly said quietly, “It doesn’t get any better than this.”

He’d paused, lowering his chin as he looked at her, curled there in what seemed to be her favorite nook between his chest and his arm. He allowed himself to just bask in her for a second, to just take in how gorgeous she looked – innocent but somehow sexy, eyes peering up at him, breasts covered by only the sheet, swelling out above it with the promise of her incredible body.

“What?” He asked, but his voice was hoarse, giving away the fact that he sort of knew where she was going.

“Just….this, you.” She shook her head, then, “You’re reading my favorite book, Jim, and it’s not because I had to beg you to; even better than that…you love it; you just…get it.”

Their eyes met and held, and then he whispered, “I’m in love with you…or had you forgotten?”

They’d fallen asleep fairly early, no more than an hour later, she first, still with her head on his chest, her book falling to rest beside her. He’d gently extricated it from her fingers, moving to lay it on the nightstand next to the book he’d been reading, then he quietly blew out the last two candles.

As he listened to her breathing, he again felt that incredible peace settle over him – that tranquility that was such a departure from the hell he’d lived in for the three years that he’d believed she was going to marry another man. In his head, those same words echoed, the ones that had once torn at him, but now filled him with hope: All that I am / all that I ever was / is here in your perfect eyes / They’re all I can see / I don’t know where / Confused about how as well / Just know that these things will never change for us at all….
________________________________________________________________________

She’d awakened early the next morning, before the alarm even went off, surprised to find that they’d not even changed position – that he was still on his back, she with her head resting on his chest. She loved the fact that she could feel his chest rise and fall with his steady breaths, loved the scent of him, the feeling of his hand resting gently on her waist.

It struck her that she should sneak out of bed and make coffee; after all, they were going back to work today, leaving the blissful cocoon they’d created over the weekend. Although somehow, it didn’t seem quite so terrible, given that they’d still be spending the next nine hours together…and then some. And she had to admit that she was rather looking forward to walking into that office with all that she knew now…. The thought of meeting his eyes across her desk, remembering what it felt like when he was making love to her, filled her with a thrill that made her feel alive.

But when she’d moved to climb out of bed, suddenly feeling terribly thirsty, he’d tightened his grip, murmuring, “Hey now, Beesley….where do you think you’re going?”

She laughed at him, touching his face, smoothing his hair from his forehead (how had she gone all those years without touching his hair?), then whispered, “I’m going to make some coffee and get something to drink.”

He raised himself up on one elbow, shaking his head, then blinking a few times before he said, “But, don’t you think we should….?”

His eyes met hers and she didn’t even have to ask. Again? Seriously?

She smiled at him, her eyebrows raised, then he looked sheepish and added, “Okay, so maybe there’s some sick fantasy in there of mine; maybe I secretly love the idea of making love to you before work, so that all day whenever we look at each other, we’ll think of…that.”

What he’d said made her feel weak, but her mouth was so dry. So she suddenly leapt out of bed, saying, “I’ve got to get some Gatorade, but I’ll be right back!”

With that, she rushed to the kitchen, hearing him chuckle, then call after her, “I’m not planning on robbing you of any electrolytes – just your dignity!”

He grinned to himself at the sound of her laughter, as he heard one of her hands smacking down on the counter. He could so clearly picture her in there, bent at the waist, trying to catch her breath.

When she made her way back into the bedroom, a glass of Gatorade in one hand, he was propped up in bed, one hand behind his head. “Best idea you ever had, Beesley – the whole staying in for the weekend thing. Brilliant. Just brilliant.”

She gave him a threatening look, then fell on top of him, her giggles muffled by his lips.
________________________________________________________________________

An hour later, she was sitting at her desk, having quite primly driven herself to work alone, despite the twinge she’d felt at being separated from him for the first time – with the exception of his trip to the store – all weekend. They both agreed that it would’ve been a very bad idea if they’d driven in together. Happy as they were, neither was even remotely interested in letting the cat out of the bag, so to speak; they’d talked at one point the night before about how mortifying it would be if Michael ever found out – not that he wouldn’t have been happy for them, but that he would’ve insisted that they disclose their “consensual, sexual relationship” to Human Resources.

“Can you imagine?” Jim had said, laughing, his head leaning back against the sofa. “Yes, Toby, hey, can we talk for a second? Good, because…well, Pam and I had the most amazing sex this weekend. What’s that? Was it consensual? Well, to be honest, Toby, the first time it was, but the second time…well, she totally took advantage of me in the bathtub. Actually – funny you should mention it – yes, I’m thinking that sexual harassment charges are in order, definitely.”

She’d rewarded him with a sharp smack to his bare chest, then, “Watch it, Halpert.”

Per agreement (well, really, per a three-fold rock/paper/scissors contest), Pam had gotten to work first, settling in at her desk before Jim appeared ten minutes later. (“No earlier, do you hear me?” She’d threatened. “Let me get settled in first, so I’ll be less likely to just…flip out when you come in.”)

When Jim strode in, he casually hung his coat on the coat rack, then greeted her with a warm smile.

“Hey, how are you?” He asked warmly.

At first she felt insecure, certain that everyone in the office saw it all over her face, that she was in love with him, that he’d made love to her in the shower that morning, less than two hours before.

“Great, Jim.” She nodded. It was completely surreal, because for a brief moment, it was as if nothing had changed, and he was just Jim, her best friend, her confidant…the secret object of her attraction, her fascination.

But then he gave her the most discreet wink, and it all became real again: Oh yes, he was hers, and she was his, and this was…amazing.

When Dwight came in five minutes later and settled in at his desk, unlocking his drawer to retrieve his phone receiver, Jim greeted him happily, “Good morning, Dwight.”

Dwight glared at him, hands working to re-connect the handset to the base of his phone, choosing not to even bother to respond to Jim’s greeting. Jim was caught off guard, as Dwight had never chosen this particular tactic. But he pressed on.

“Beautiful day, huh?” He asked, eliciting yet another stare from Dwight.

“Yes, but not for the reasons that you’re thinking.” He spat, then added, “Today is the day, one hundred and thirty-two years ago, that J.R.R. Tolkein was born.”

“Yes, I knew that.” Jim immediately responded, hoping his eyes didn’t give away the fact that he was lying.

“No you didn’t.” Dwight gave him another icy glare, but before Jim could continue, Angela appeared at Dwight’s desk.

“Excuse me,” She said, a forced tone of formality in her voice as Jim remembered what Pam had told him a few nights earlier. It was fascinating – and a little scary, he had to admit – to witness one of their exchanges in light of what he now knew.

“Could I speak with you for a moment?” Angela’s voice was as crisp as usual, but something in her eyes changed. “In private.”

She’d cast a disapproving, withering stare at Jim, who gave her his sweetest smile in return. He was rewarded with a slight roll of her eyes, and for a moment, he was almost unbearably tempted to say, “Hey Angela….. Nice green shirt you’re wearing; I myself have always found green to be a somewhat…whorish color, but on you, it looks almost…prim.”

Of course, he didn’t dare, simply sat there looking at his computer screen innocently, waiting for them to leave before he jumped out of his chair and went to lean on the reception counter, ostensibly to get a jellybean and small talk with Pam….but in reality, to see her face, to remember what it had felt like when he’d kissed her, when he’d been inside her …..

“Hey,” He greeted casually.

“Hey.” She smiled at him, and he immediately saw a flush on her cheeks as she asked, “How was your weekend?”

Her voice sounded exaggeratedly loud, and as he scanned the office – Stanley on a sales call, Meredith poring over a spreadsheet and sipping from a styrofoam up – he realized that no one was listening to them, particularly because Dwight and Angela had disappeared.

“It was incredible.” He told her enthusiastically, loving it when she looked completely flustered, then asked, “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” He answered (it occurred to her briefly that she’d heard him say that – well, moan it, really – in an entirely different context), then said, “My weekend was amazing. What about yours?”

She gave him a warning look and was rewarded by a satisfied, almost smug grin on his part as she forced herself to say, “Oh, it was nice – just the usual.”

“Really? That’s nice.” He nodded at her, then: “I’m pretty convinced that this weekend changed my life.”

She was speechless, glancing around in panic, relieved to find that – again – no one was paying them the slightest bit of attention.

Then Michael had appeared just outside the double doors to their suite, so Jim had said, “Hey – I gotta get back to my desk.” Then, in a whisper, “Yeah, definitely in love with you.”

He left her sitting there a flustered mess, so much so that she hadn’t even gotten a hold of herself when Michael walked in, exclaiming at her loudly, having glanced at the cameras, “Pam! Wham! Bam! Thank you, Pam!”

Her eyes widened even though he’d said it to her before. For some reason, her gaze drifted to Jim, who was pretending to concentrate on his monitor, one hand over his lips to stifle his laughter.

Oh no, she thought; he’s not getting away with enjoying this quite so much.

So she’d murmured, confident that Michael’s short attention span would render her comment innocuous, “Oh no….not at all.”

Her voice was just loud enough for Jim to hear, and his head jerked in recognition, eyes meeting hers briefly as she gave him the most angelic smile.