Three Months (I Need You So Much Closer)

 

The silence isn't breaking

Backwashed and stranded memories

Of something I thought could be 

*

 

December

 

It takes her a couple weeks to realize she's lonely. And of course, now is the worst time to be lonely, because of all the cheery, family-filled holiday commercials that she makes faces at when they dare to come on her television or the jingles on the radio which make her promptly change the station. She's even avoided going shopping too much, because she doesn't know if she can take another rendition of "I'll Be Home for Christmas" without breaking down in the middle of some outlet mall.

It's nice having Jim back, but it's not what she expected. She can't remember if there was ever a time where she hesitated to call Jim a "friend," if not her "best friend," but now she certainly has her doubts. She knows it will take time for things to really be "normal," if that even applies in their situation, but it's harder than that.

Watching Jim and Karen, she starts to understand why it took Jim so long to tell her about his feelings. When she heard about Jim coming back, she kept having all these ideas about how she was going to tell him, or how he would find out how she felt, but now she's lucky to catch a glance from him during the day. That makes the loneliness more palpable, because she has him there, but she knows he is no longer hers. Instead, she watches the subtle smiles and touches Jim and Karen share and somehow remembers to breathe.

Sometimes they all end up in the break room and Karen asks her to come out for drinks with them. Karen can't see it, but Pam notices Jim's eyebrows rise or his eyes widen, just a little. It doesn't matter, because she always declines, saying she has art class or dinner with her sister, when in actuality, most nights, she returns home, zaps a frozen dinner in the microwave, and thinks about drawing until it's eight and she can lose herself in the fictional problems and people on television.

The price of her art classes is going up next semester, and with her car payments and rent, she isn't sure if she's going to register for spring. The community college doesn't offer many advanced classes anyway, and she doesn't want to be one of those middle aged students who keep taking Drawing IV and the only thing they get to perfect is a sketch of boxes. She's already remade herself once this year, and now she wonders if she has to do it all over again so soon.

It scares her a little that Jim is changing too. She thinks about moving sometimes, just a fleeting thought as she cleans the kitchen or folds laundry, but she realizes how big a pain that would be. Moving across town is one thing, but relocating would involve job hunting and apartment hunting and meeting new people. She imagines moving to New York or Boston, but all those scenarios involve Jim coming with her.

If being with Jim at work is hard, being around Karen is almost harder. Pam can see she would have an easy ally in Karen—she recognizes the loneliness in Karen's face whenever she refuses an invitation—but she can't let Karen in. It's been so long since Pam has had a girlfriend (Kelly doesn't count), someone she could let her guard down with and get tipsy off too much wine and talk about boys and bad sex and laugh until her sides hurt. Most of her girlfriends are old college buddies who are already married and who all but disappeared when the wedding was cancelled.

She realizes she had tried to use Jim as a replacement for all these things and she's ashamed at how thoughtless it had been of her to complain about Roy. Being friends and accomplices and making each other laugh was one thing, but now it embarrasses Pam to think about how easily she had aired her dirty laundry with Jim. He hardly ever talked about the girls he dated. Of course, it became effortless, she realizes, because he was so sympathetic and understanding and could always tell when something was bothering her. "Spill it, Beesly," he used to say.

 

*

 

Her old sleeping habits come back to haunt her as well. For a couple months leading up to the wedding-that-never-happened, she slept terribly. It got worse after casino night, and ever since she'd heard that Stamford was merging with Scranton, her problems returned. Her brain refuses to shut off, her pillow isn't fluffy enough and she keeps alternating between being too hot and too cold. The loud vibrations of her cell phone charging at her desk make her sit up and crawl across her bed to answer it. Her heart jumps when she recognizes the number. "Hello?" At first, all she can hear is an indistinct murmuring of voices and laughter, but after a moment, the noise gets quieter.

"Hey." He says and she shivers slightly, rubbing her legs.

"Uh, hi. What are you—are you okay?"

"For the most part. I sort of got dragged out tonight by um, MichaelandAndy," he says quickly.

"Wait. You're out with Michael? Please tell me Dwight's there too," she giggles.

"No, it's Wednesday. He stayed home to watch <i>Lost</i>."

"Right. Of course."

"Sorry. I didn't realize what time—did I wake you?" His voice lowers a little and Pam lets her eyes flutter close for a second, imagining him with her.

"No," she stutters. "Couldn't sleep." She shifts, turning on the light and he clears his throat. "Sorry. Why did you call?"

"Oh, well, uh, I guess I just thought you would understand this hell better than anyone else."

She feels the smile spread across her face. "How drunk is Michael?"

"Oh, gosh, I don't know. He was hitting on anything that moved when we came in, but oddly alcohol seems to revert him to being five years old."

"Which is different from when he's sober how?"

Jim chuckles. "Good point, Beesly."

"Jim…" She starts, but Jim suddenly sounds like he's in the middle of a crowd of rowdy teenagers and she waits for the noise to clear.

"Sorry," he apologizes. "It's some girl's birthday. What were you saying?"

"Oh, I don't—nothing important."

"I probably shouldn't have called. I can let you go."

"No! I mean, I'm glad you called."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You guys don't need a ride home or anything, do you?" She flinches for not letting the moment last.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm sober Steve tonight."

"Oh, well, good."

"I'll see you tomorrow though. Bye, Pam."

"Yeah. Tomorrow." She whispers as she hangs up.

 

*

She starts looking at community colleges a little farther away and she finds a continued education program in Dunmore. They have watercolor and drawing concentrations. A ceramics class sounds fun, too. Suddenly she doesn't care about the cost, because she remembers how much she loves to lay out all her freshly sharpened pencils or mix paints together on a palette.

She gets Karen for Secret Santa and wonders if it would be inappropriate to buy her a bottle of wine. Instead, when Karen comes in the break room to buy a drink, Pam asks her if she's free on Sunday.

"Yeah, I think so," Karen nods.

"Well, if you want, I thought maybe we could get together for drinks or something. Just girls."

"Okay," Karen smiles. "That would be good."

Sunday at seven, she pulls up to the sushi place not far from her apartment and finds Karen already ensconced at the bar. "Hey. I wasn't sure if we were going the sake route or just sticking to beer."

"Whatever you want." Karen orders her and Pam two Asahi beers and they fall into talking about the office. Karen mentions that she's been asking Phyllis about knitting, but was overwhelmed when she went to the craft store to buy yarn. She asks about Pam's art classes, but Pam just blushes and says she might be changing schools in January. Inevitably though, the conversation turns to guys.

"Are you seeing anyone?" Karen asks.

She shakes her head. "No. I was actually supposed to get married this summer, but--" She shrugs. "It didn't work out."

"Oh," Karen's eyes widen. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about, I broke it off. I wasn't happy."

"So you're happy now?" Karen asks.

She nods. "For the most part. I'm taking art classes, which is something I love. Work is work," Karen laughs. "But it's not too bad. I mean, it's nice to have new people come in."

"Okay, now I know you're lying. Andy is Mr. Super Ego and Hannah is obsessed with her kid. I guess you knew Jim pretty well before, though."

"Yeah, we were really good friends."

"He seems pretty sane," Karen nods, but Pam doesn't miss the small smile before she takes a sip of her beer.

"He's a nice guy," she agrees.

 

*

 

She buys Karen some yarn and a pair of blue knitting needles for her Secret Santa gift. It's a little over twenty dollars with tax, but Pam figures no one will notice.

Since Jim's been back, Pam usually avoids eating lunch in the break room unless everyone else is there, because she doesn't want to run into Karen and Jim eating together. So one day she ventures back to the break room and is surprised when she finds Jim eating alone.

"Where's Karen?" She asks before she can catch herself.

"Huh?"

"Karen. I just, noticed you two usually eat together." She turns to study the snacks in the snack machine so she doesn't have to watch him.

"Oh, uh, I think she went out to lunch or something." Pam decides she feels like orange soda today and the can clanks as it falls down out of the machine. "She told me you two went out last weekend."

"Oh." She falters. "Yeah. Hey listen," she turns on her heel to face him. "If it's too weird that we're hanging out, I mean—"

"What? Why would it be weird?" Jim stops studying his carrot sticks and frowns up at her.

She sighs. "Because you're dating her."

"Oh, Pam," he breathes. "It's not—you know what, it doesn't matter. I'm not going to tell you who to hang out with."

"Well, okay," she says slowly, curious about what Jim started to say. She tries to think of a way to change the subject, but her hand is getting cold from the soda can, so she walks back to her desk.

He comes out of the break room a couple minutes later, his head down as he approaches her desk. "Hey," he says softly.

"What?" She won't look up, staring straight ahead at her computer screen.

"I'm sorry for being so snappy."

"It's just—this hasn't been the easiest thing…" She blinks rapidly, trying to will away the tears blurring her vision.

"I know." His voice is low, almost a whisper. She can see his hands start to move towards her, but he stops, shoving them in his pockets instead. "Can we talk?"

She bites her lip. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Okay." For once she's glad he's not sitting at his old desk anymore.

 

*

 

She makes it through the stupid Christmas party at work. She doesn't stay long, slipping out after the food. She's actually excited about the holidays, but only because she plans on spending them far away from work and Scranton. She has managed to save up her remaining sick and vacation days so she can spend about a week at her parents'. The next morning she's up making coffee, leaning against the counter in the kitchen as she chews on a bagel when she hears her phone ringing. Figuring it's just her mom checking in on what time she's leaving, she answers it without even looking. "Hello?"

"Hey."

"Oh, hey. What's up?" She tries to be casual, biting her lip.

"Just calling to wish you happy holidays. You slipped out of the party yesterday before I could tell you to have a good trip."

"Oh, well, thanks. You too. I mean, have a good Christmas and all that."

"Are you driving?"

"Not yet. Are you on your way to work?"

"Yep. I wonder who Michael will assign to answer the phones. Ryan will refuse."

"I bet Dwight volunteers."

Jim chuckles and she plays with the luggage tag on her suitcase. "How much do you want to bet, Beesly?"

"Umm, a bag of York peppermint patties."

"What are you? Fifty?"

"No," she laughs. "I just like them."

"Okay." He agrees, before he tells her again to have a nice trip and hangs up. He sends her a text message later: You win, Beesly.

There'd be no distance that can hold us back

 

January

 

*

 

She used to love winter, but in the early mornings when she spends twenty minutes scraping snow and ice off her windshield, she thinks about warmer climes. Even though her car is new, it takes a couple minutes for the heat to kick in, and she spends it involuntarily shivering and trying to brace herself so her teeth stop chattering. She rubs her arms and stomps her feet at the red lights, finally feeling the warm blast of heat when she puts her hands up to the vent. Just as quickly though, she's pulling into the parking lot and dashing inside. Her nose tingles and she can feel the flush in her cheeks as she rides up in the elevator.

She's catching up on her email when Jim walks in the door.

"Hey," he grins. "Did you have a good break?"

She can't help but smile back, even though it hurts a little, reminding her of how excited Jim had been to see her after she and Roy had spent a week in the Poconos. "Yeah," she replies. "How—how was yours?"

"It was okay," he shrugs, ambling over to his desk. She watches him for a minute, wondering if she can tell anything from his body language, but she knows how Jim can hide things, how he can compress things so well. For years, he compressed how he felt and she had no idea.

Karen comes in a few minutes later and greets her, but doesn't linger by reception. She notices Karen barely makes eye contact with Jim as she settles in for the day.

For some reason, she's surprised by the sameness—the quiet clacking on keyboards, the occasional muffled cough, a phone ringing, the printer gearing up for another task, the murmured voices of the office. Of course, Michael doesn't let things stay quiet for long, interrupting his employees' flow with something inane. She rolls her eyes and sort of hides behind her desk, hoping she won't be called out to participate. When she glances up, she can see Jim turning her direction in his chair, giving her a knowing smirk.

Later, when she comes back from the supply room, she finds a bag of York peppermint patties next to her keyboard.

 

*

 

At lunch time, she hesitates before walking back to the break room. She hopes Jim and Karen aren't sharing furtive glances over a shared bag of chips. Instead, when she walks in, Jim and Toby look up from their lunches, and both smile at her. She ducks her head, setting her stuff down and gets a drink out of the machine. She doesn't bother to inquire where Karen is, just enjoys the staggered chatter between Jim and Toby about goings-on. Toby's going to train for another race. Sasha is doing really well in first grade, but Toby's ex-wife is probably going to get remarried. She doesn't know the details of Toby's divorce: if his wife left him for another man and if her new husband is that other man, but she knows that Jim knows, so she sympathizes and lets Jim ask the questions.

They talk a little about Phyllis's wedding; they all got their save the date cards over the holidays. Under the table, her right index finger and thumb find the place where her ring used to be. She doesn't regret it, but it strikes her as a little weird that last year at this time, Roy had re-set the date for their wedding and she had started to worry about her dress, the invitations, and all the little details she had made herself forget for the past three years. It's like some odd game of fate played by the universe. When she looks up, she notices Jim watching her, and she wonders if he's thinking the same thing. Toby cleans up his trash and waves to them before exiting to his cubicle in the back of the office.

 

*

 

For a few days, she eats lunch with Jim again. It's sort of nerve-wracking at first, having to put thought into when to chew and when to talk, so she doesn't accidentally pull the old "You know what my favorite food is? See-food" joke, because she's so eager to have him actually converse with her, ask her questions, and tease her.

On Friday, Jim comes in and shoots his empty water bottle into the trash. "Good shot," she comments. "But if you're evolving, shouldn't you know how to recycle by now?"

"I do recycle, but this office doesn't have a recycle bin. Imagine that, a paper company not recycling."

"Well, we should. Have one, I mean."

"Al Gore taught you well." Jim teases.

"Think about it. They've been teaching us this since we were, what, five? And people still don't do it."

"I never knew you were an environmentalist." He raises his eyebrows as he scoots out one of the plastic chairs, sitting down with a sigh.

"I guess it's rubbing off," she ducks her head. "There's this group of girls in my art class that are always talking about new stuff they've found that's made of recyclable material."

"Cool. Are you still taking classes at SCC?"

"Nope. I started going to the Penn State campus in Dunmore. It has evening programs for a bunch of stuff. I'm just taking classes now, getting a feel for it, but I like it a lot." She shrugs.

"That's great! I kind of, uh, am doing my own version of the art thing." He blushes and drops his head.

"Oh, really?" She tries to muffle her smile, but she lets it peek out, inordinately pleased that they are sharing things again.

"Yeah, I started coaching a basketball team. It's just for Parks and Rec, but it's a lot of fun."

"Jim!" She smiles; she can imagine him yelling good-naturedly from the sideline. "What age?"

"Seven and eight-year-olds." He sits forward in his seat. "These kids are hilarious. I mean, they're like three feet shorter than me and they're out there giving me crap."

"Oh, that's priceless." She giggles. She hears someone walk in behind her, but she doesn't turn to see who it is until Jim looks embarrassed and starts cleaning up his trash. Pam glances around to see Karen punching one of the buttons on the soda machine and she turns back around, pretending to finish her lunch. She nods at Jim, who gives her an apologetic look before he follows Karen out to the office. She stays in the break room for a minute, staring at the wall so she won't see Jim leaning against Karen's desk, trying to make up for whatever's gone wrong.

On Monday, she feels her stomach drop when Karen follows Jim into the break room, both of them all smiles. 

 

*

 

She doesn't pretend to be overly friendly with Karen, and their discontinued girls' nights are never mentioned. It's evolved into a game. The thing is, Pam's good at playing games, at keeping a straight face when she's pulling something over on Dwight or trying to be earnest with Michael, but she's not sure she's ever been good at playing games with Jim. They both seem to lose, picking themselves up only to start again.

She thinks about hosting a party for her new friends from her art classes, but she realizes it would be pretty obvious if he's one of the only guys there. Instead, she shows up to one of his games on a Saturday morning. Parents litter the stands, but she tries not to be too self-conscious and is pleased when Jim notices her during warm-ups, a ball almost hitting him in the face. He gives her a wave and she waves back, smiling. They go out for coffee afterward, laughing over the kids' efforts. She wishes she could ask questions about him and Karen, but she likes this rhythm they've fallen into, and she can't let on that she's curious. But sometimes she looks at up at him smiling over at her and she thinks, maybe.

They pause outside the little café and Jim's quiet, his shoes scuffing along the sidewalk as he walks her to her car. He asks her if she thinks she'll come to anymore games.

"Oh, I don't know," she laughs softly. "You're great with them, though. Natural."

"Thanks," he blushes and tucks his chin to his chest before looking up at her. She holds her breath, because she recognizes the look in his eyes.

"What?" she asks in a puff of breath.

"Nothing," he shakes his head. "Have a good weekend."

"Yeah," she nods, opening her car door. "You too." She leaves him standing in the icy parking lot, the mixture of snow and salt and ice a slushy gray mess at his feet. As she drives home, she bites her lip and wishes she had asked him to dinner.

 

*

When the RSVPs are due for Phyllis's wedding, he sends her an email: You better come to this thing, Beesly. I am not crying over Bob Vance (of Vance Refrigeration) by myself.

She rolls her eyes and writes him back: Sure thing, Halpert.

 

tbc... 

You'll be loved
Like you never have known

 

*

 

February

 

*

 

Hannah leaves at the beginning of the month. There's no big to do; Pam comes in one morning to see her packing up her desk.

"You can't take the stapler," Angela's firm voice floats across the office and Pam glances over at Jim, who has his hand over his mouth.

"So three out of five, huh? Who's going to be next?" Michael asks when she's gone. He widens his eyes at them, his line of vision bouncing between Karen and Andy.

"It should be Survivor: Scranton."

"Yesss," Michael hisses, laughing at Jim's joke as he goes back into his office.

Michael has a meeting with Jan that afternoon, so he leaves the office early. An IM from Jim pops up on her screen.

JHalpert: I've been trying to think of a way to get out of here early all day.

JHalpert: I think I've got it.

She coughs and he turns just a little in his chair. She smiles and he spins around, pointing to the break room with his thumb. She nods and a moment later, he's off his chair, heading that way.

A minute later, she follows. "So what's the mission?" She asks as she walks in, seeing him pretending to study the contents of the snack machine. "This better benefit us both or I'm not helping." She teases, folding her arms across her chest.

"Oh, it benefits all," he smiles, buying a bottle of water, before joining her at one of the gray plastic tables. "Okay. First, I need you to get into Michael's office while I delay Dwight somehow. Do you know where all the clocks are in his office?"

She squints, thinking. "There's just the one on the wall. What's this about?"

He takes a sip of his water and she watches the grin grow across his face. He leans in conspiratorially and it's all she has not to close her eyes as she breathes him in. "It's our own little daylight savings time here at Dunder Mifflin."

She giggles, glancing at her watch. "So it's really…"

"Twelve o'clock." He taps his watch. "But we'll be getting out of here at four."

"Gotcha." She starts to get up.

"Ooh! Don't forget the clock on Michael's computer."

"Right," she nods. "Wait, doesn't Dwight wear a watch? How are you going to trick him out of that?"

"We have to convince him it's out of sync. Try and keep up here," Jim smiles at her.

"Clever." She grins back, pushing open the door to head back to her desk, and muffling her smile as she crosses the office.

They both work on the plan diligently, trying to change all the clocks Dwight might check. She tries not to notice how Jim leans over Karen's desk, his hand on top of hers as he takes the mouse. At one point, Dwight stretches and yawns and she hears Jim cough. A moment later, Dwight heads towards the bathroom. Ryan's apparently been filled in on the plan, because Jim calmly gets up to change Dwight's computer clock and then shoots her an "ok" sign before heading into the back to delay Dwight.

She picks up two file folders and strolls into Michael's office. She closes the blinds and stands on a chair to take down Michael's wall clock. As she's working, she hears muffled voices and strains to hear if its Dwight and Jim, but one of the voices is female and distinctly Jan, so she slaps the clock back on the wall, hoping it doesn't come crashing down again. She swings open the office door and steps outside just as Michael and Jan come around the corner. She sees Jim emerging from the back of the office, his eyes wide that they've been found out. She shakes her head slightly and turns to Michael, smiling sweetly, telling him she left last month's expense reports on his desk.

After Michael shuts his door, there's a crash and she flinches as Michael curses. Jim meets her at reception.

"Abort, abort," she murmurs as she sits back at her desk.

He chuckles. "Maybe another day."

She nods. "It was a nice thought."

"Yeah," he lets his elbow rest on the counter, his lanky frame shifting to find a comfortable position, his old position. "I was going to catch a matinee."

"A movie? Really, Halpert? It's so nice out today."

"It is freakishly warm today."

"Global warming," she raises her eyebrows at him.

"I don't think so," he shakes his head. "It's supposed to snow tonight."

"Oh, that'll be nice." He gives her a look. "What? I like snow. Not the gray, slushy stuff, but when it first snows. It makes everything clean, like you can start over."

"No, snow's nice."

 

*

 

He doesn't follow Karen out of the office anymore. That night, she watches him slip on his coat and blue scarf before he looks over at her. "You're killing me. Why are you still here?"

"Some of us actually work around here." She turns from her computer to see him holding her coat. "Fine," she relents. She switches off her monitor and takes her coat from him, looking away when his fingers brush hers. She pulls her hair out from under the collar and grabs her purse. "Okay."

She's putting on her gloves when they step out into the parking lot and she feels that electricity in the air. She looks up at the darkening sky and notices the bulge of gray clouds in the distance. "You can almost smell it."

Jim shoots her half a grin, but she thinks she notices him lift his chin a little and sniff the air. He stays by her side as they pick their way across the icy parking lot. She only has to grab his hand once, but the way he catches her wrist almost makes her lose her balance again.

"Careful," he cautions.

Later, she looks up from the TV, hearing the gush of wind against her window and sees the thick flakes dancing towards the ground. She picks up the phone. "It's snowing."

"Oh, yeah, it is. Wow." She listens to him breathe for a minute, both of them quiet as they watch the snow together. She wants to tell him then.

"Do you think you would ever leave Scranton?" He asks after awhile, his voice low.

"If I had a reason, yeah, I think so. Why?"

"Just curious."

"Did you like living in Stamford?"

"It was nice," he sighs. "For a little while."

 

*

 

She spots him across the hotel ballroom, talking with Oscar and Kevin. He's wearing a navy suit, the knot of his tie slightly crooked as he smiles at something Kevin is saying. She pulls at the waist of her dress. She's been worrying about it being too fitted, too tight, but when she tried it on for Kelly and Phyllis one day after work, they both told her she was crazy.

"You're so tiny, Pam. And you look hot. You're wearing that dress." Kelly demanded.

"I love the color," Phyllis had added.

She likes the color too, the layers of dark blue silk fluttering at her knees. She feels bold, flirty, and it reminds her of that night in May.

Jim looks over at her and he stops. It's clear he's not listening to whatever Oscar is saying. She manages a smile and half a wave before Kevin and Oscar look over at her, and she feels her cheeks tingle, looking down at the ground where her toes peek out of her shoes. Ryan and Kelly come in and stop to talk to her, but when she turns back around, Jim is there.

"Hi," she smiles. "You look nice."

"Thanks. You look…amazing." She notices how his eyes flit from her face all the way down to her toes.

"Thank you." The justice of the peace comes in then and tells them to take their seats.

"Ready?" Jim raises his eyebrows. She steps past him and can feel his hand meet the small of her back as they find seats next to Ryan and Kelly. Michael has somehow convinced Jan to accompany him and they come in together at the last minute; Jim shoots her a surprised look and she puts her hand up to her mouth to muffle the giggle. Bob Vance, his best man, and the justice of the peace walk to the front of the room and everyone falls quiet. The crowd is small, but almost all the seats are full. Phyllis's sister is her maid of honor and she makes her way down the aisle. Phyllis walks down the aisle by herself and Pam thinks it’s the happiest she's ever seen her.

After the ceremony, everyone mills around, waiting for what exactly, she's not sure. She starts to say something to Jim, but she catches herself admiring him in his suit instead. She's studying the slope of his shoulders when he turns, meeting her eyes, and she blurts out the first thing she thinks of. "This is why I don't like weddings."

"Wow. Flattery is your forte."

"No," she laughs. "That’s not what I meant. I just mean…you know, weddings. I don't think I've ever actually had fun at a wedding."

"Well, Beesly, what can I say? You've never been to a wedding with me." He finishes, pointing to himself.

She realizes that maybe their awkward exchange the day before really had been an invitation to be his date, but she isn't sure. One of the hotel staff comes in to escort everyone to the room for the reception and she's suddenly aware of how Jim's sleeve brushes her arm as they walk or the way he leans into her as they try to get through a doorway at the same time. He laughs and she can feel his breath on her neck.

The reception room is decorated tastefully, but not overdone, and there's a small table between the dance floor and buffet area that is reserved for the wedding party. She hears Jim ask her something about drinks and she agrees to scout out chairs as he goes off to the bar. It's weird that they're doing this: getting drinks and finding a place to sit, but it's familiar, like she's done this with him before.

She gets a minute to breathe and take in her surroundings, but realizes Andy is heading in her direction, and she glances around for Jim, who fortunately, is also coming back to the table. She widens her eyes at him, tilting her head towards Andy and she sees Jim visibly speed up. He gets to the table a moment after Andy. "Hey, Tuna."

"Hey," Jim hands Pam her drink.

"I was just coming over to see if the lady, Pamela, would do me the honor of a dance."

"Oh, I don't--"

"Oh, you don't want to do that." Jim shakes his head. "She's a bad dancer," he stage whispers to Andy.

"Yeah, sorry," she shrugs.

"I don't mind," Andy replies.

"Well, I--" She stutters.

"I mind," Jim says quickly. "She's saving all the bad dancing for me." He winks at her and she tries her hardest not to beam at him.

Andy notices the exchange and leans into Jim. "Ooooh, Big Tuna! I think you found your open waters."

"Uh, yeah--" She watches his cheeks flush.

"Wait, what about Karen?"

"Oh, we…" Jim shakes his head. Pam swallows, glancing down at her drink.

"Gotcha. Well, maybe I'll see you two out there."

"Yeah, maybe," she nods, noticing how Jim seems to be frozen.

"Jim…" she starts, but he interrupts.

"I know, I know, you're not a bad dancer."

"No," she puts a hand on his arm, not letting him get away with a joke. "Thank you."

"Yeah, well. That's what I do." He shrugs, still not meeting her eyes.

"I know." She squeezes his hand. "You're a good wedding date," she whispers and Jim looks up at her in surprise. He opens his mouth, but she just nods, giving him a small smile. He nods back and looks away, but she notices the smile pulling at his cheeks.

Jan bustles over then, saying she doesn't want to interrupt, but that she needs a brief reprieve from Michael. She asks how Jim is fitting back in here and Jim glances over at Pam and then back at Jan.

"It's been easier than I thought it would be. It's good to be home."

 

*

 

After they watched Phyllis and Bob Vance cut the cake and have their first dance, Pam is feeling warm and a little giddy from the wine. She taps Jim on the shoulder.

"Let's go."

"Huh?"

"You haven't seen any of my bad dance moves," she stands, reaching out her hand for him. "Let's go."

"Okay," he laughs, shaking his hand.

The DJ is playing a cheesy fifties song as they make their way out on the floor. She feels self-conscious and she thinks Jim can tell, because they both stand at the edge of the floor and wait for the song to change. Abba's "Dancing Queen" comes on and she giggles. "Oh my God, did you request this?"

"No, I swear." She knows how Jim hates this song, because it gets stuck in his head.

"Well, let's do this thing, Beesly." He nods and she moves out onto the floor, pulling out her disco moves, and he matches her. After one song, she doesn't mind that she probably looks like a complete dork. She barely notices when another song she doesn't recognize comes on and they stay out on the floor.

But when a slower song starts to play, they both stop. He swallows and she wishes she could stop looking at him, three feet apart from him in some ballroom. "What are we doing?"

"We're missing the slow dance."

"Jim," she sighs. "I need to--" He pulls her forward and she sucks in her breath, then realizes he was preventing her from getting run over by another pair of dancers. "Can we go somewhere? I mean, we don't have to leave."

"No, yeah, sure." Jim follows her off the dance floor and they're both quiet as they walk out to the hallway. Their shoes don't make any sound on the carpet. She stops outside the room, her hands on her stomach. He leans against the wall next to her, staring at the big windows across from them that look out onto the hotel's gardens.

"I just needed to get out of there for a minute." She tucks her hair behind her ear and looks over at him. "God, I hate weddings."

"I thought we were having a good time," he murmurs.

"No, we are. Sorry." She takes a deep breath. "Do you think we'll ever be happy?"

His gaze meets hers, studying her face. "You're not happy?"

"I could be. With you." Her hands are shaking, but he reaches out, finds her hand, covering it with his. She shivers, remembering how something so simple can make her feel safe.

"I could be too."

"Then what are we doing? I want to be happy, Jim. I want to be happy," she repeats, hearing her own voice crack.

"I know," he murmurs. "I know." He tugs on her wrist and she steps towards him. She tucks herself into his chest, taking in deep, ragged breaths. His cheek rests against her temple and when he talks, she can feel the vibrations, the echo of his words in his chest. "I tried to change, but God, Pam…"

She looks up when he says her name like that. "I don't want you to change." Her hands grip his shoulders, because for a second, she's not sure if she's really here, if he's really here, standing in front of her, waiting. "Is it too late to tell you?"

He doesn't let her finish, doesn't answer the question, because his lips are on hers, and she's so startled that they sort of stumble back against the wall. She doesn't hesitate this time, her hands sliding up, fingering the hair on the back of his neck, the soft whorls, the way she remembers it. The fabric of her dress rustles, echoes in her ears, and it's almost like before. This time when they break apart, she looks him in the eye, and his lips pull into a small smile. Her cheeks feel flushed and his fingers sweep across her collarbone, making her eyes flutter close again.

"I should have told you a long time ago," she mumbles, her lips brushing across his cheek.

"No," he whispers. "Now's good." She tugs on his collar and pulls his mouth towards hers, her fingers splayed across his cheek, feeling the light scratch of stubble, and it makes something in her stomach drop, her breath hitch. He pulls back, his breath in her ear, his eyes searching hers, and she gives his hand a squeeze.

"So what do we do now?" She asks.

He lifts his eyebrows. "We never got that slow dance."

 

*

 

It's hard for her not to spend her days at work watching him, knowing things are different now. They eat lunch together and laugh at Oscar or Kevin or Toby's stories, and if anyone notices that they sometimes split a bag of chips or that Jim shares his carrot sticks with her, they don't say anything.

They have their first real date on Valentine's Day, but she tells him not to worry about reservations or flowers; instead he comes over to see her apartment for the first time, and they watch anti-Valentine's Day movies like Die Hard and The Hunt for Red October and part of Patton. They both drink too much wine and fall asleep on her couch, his arm warm around her waist. She calls him when they're driving to work the next day, because she needs to tell him again how glad she is that they're doing this, and he laughs, saying he'll see her in a minute.

When she pulls into the parking lot, he's waiting for her.