Pam had never been good at telling people how she felt.

She hadn’t told Roy to go, but when she stopped working on wedding plans, lifting her face to be kissed, and eventually even meeting his eyes when they talked, he had gotten the idea. She hadn’t begged Jim to stay, and he had left her for Australia and then for Stamford.

In the months since the Stamford branch had been downsized and Jim had ended up back in Scranton, Pam had never told him how happy she was that they had fallen back into their old roles as partners in crime. She also hadn’t told him how disappointed she was that her friendship was all he ever asked for. Pam was sure Jim still had feelings for her. She noticed now how often his eyes followed her, how his day wasn’t complete until he had made her laugh, how he tried to save her from the worst of Michael’s shenanigans…

But if they were ever going to move forward, Pam knew she would have to be the one to tell Jim she was ready--and she thought Thursday night might be the perfect time to give him the green light.

Pam hadn’t been able to stop smiling all day. She had spent half an hour before work choosing an outfit to change into for the bus. She had finally settled on black yoga pants, a black tank top, her new light blue zippered sweatshirt with the short standup collar, and running shoes. She was hoping it was the right combination of comfortable and sexy, and she thought it wouldn’t hurt to get Jim thinking about her in pajamas. She threw a pink lip-gloss into the bag for good measure.

As usual, Pam finished her actual work responsibilities before lunch. She spent the afternoon looking up silly road-trip games on the Internet and loading the video iPod she had bought herself in July with carefully chosen songs. Jim had come up to reception several times to peer at her computer screen and ask her what she was working so hard on, but Pam quickly alt-tabbed her desktop clean and told him innocently that it was a surprise.

When the clock finally hit five, she flashed Jim a giant grin and held up the mini-cooler and backpack she had packed that morning. His face broke into an answering smile before he raised his eyebrows mockingly. “You’re really excited about this conference, aren’t you, Beesly? I don’t know, it all seems a little ‘high school band trip’ to me. I mean, Le Bus? And have you seen the itinerary Michael passed out? Apparently we will be enjoying the many amenities of the Green Haven Rest Stop from approximately 10:05 until 10:17 pm.”

“I typed that itinerary, so suck on that, Halpert.” Jim just shook his head, but Pam noticed he couldn’t stop a smile from curling the edges of his mouth as he looked down at the canary-yellow paper she had chosen.

Michael came bounding through his office door, already wearing his favorite jeans. “OK, people! Oscar? Can you get off the phone? Kevin? Angela? Jim, can you rrrrrip yourself away from the reception desk for one second?” Pam winced as Jim, blushing, took a step toward Michael and turned away from her. “In a small matter of two hours, we will be leaving for the first…” Michael drum-rolled his hands on the wall. “Annual.” He pounded the wall some more. “Office-wide field trip…conference…thing… EXTRAVAGANZA!” Stanley rolled his eyes while the rest of the office just stared at Michael. “OK, so everyone can change and get their stuff together. We will be loading the bus at 6:45 sharp--right, Pam-a-lama-lama? If anyone wants to eat before we leave, I…will be at Chili’s.” Pam was sure she could actually see every person in the office making a mental note not to go to Chili’s…except maybe Dwight. She felt herself start to smile again, and caught Jim’s eye.

Pam changed in the bathroom, pulling her hair into a floppy bun with a black elastic. She put on a coat of lip-gloss and practiced a few smiles in the mirror before Kelly came in and almost caught her. “You look really, cute, Pam!” was all Kelly had time to say before Pam cut her off with a friendly smile and a “see you out there!” Pam left the bathroom laughing ruefully at herself.

She lugged her things down to the parking lot, where Jim was pulling his Corolla back into its spot. He climbed out of the car and then ducked back in for two fast-food bags and his duffel. Pam looked appreciatively over his jeans and t-shirt, feeling her cheeks grow hot when she realized Jim had seen her looking. Then she remembered her resolution, steeled herself, and cocked her eyebrow appraisingly. “It’s about time you started doing something with yourself, Halpert. You can’t expect the ladies to fall for you based on your charm alone.”

Jim’s eyes widened for a moment, but then he just handed Pam one of the fast-food bags. “Bon appetit.”

At 6:45, Jim started for the door of the bus, but Pam squeezed his bicep with her hand, holding him back. “Old traveler’s tip: you want be the one to choose who you sit by, trust me.” Once everyone else had climbed aboard, Pam handed Jim her cooler, then grabbed his other wrist and dragged him up the steps of the bus and down the aisle. She passed Dwight in the driver’s seat, and remembered Michael explaining that Dwight would be driving the bus to save the company some ‘cash-ola,’ since Dwight had a commercial driver’s license. At the memory of Jim’s soft “of course he does” over the bowl of jellybeans, Pam giggled. She hurried them past Michael, a few rows behind Dwight, trying not to think about the fact that Michael was holding a ukulele. She found an acceptable empty row behind Kevin and flopped down into the window seat, pulling Jim down into the aisle seat next to her.

Jim looked at her with a slightly bemused expression. “Pam…” She didn’t stop to listen. Pam dug a grape soda out of her cooler and pressed it into Jim’s hand, slipped a pack of playing cards out of her backpack pocket, and shoved the pack back under Kevin’s seat.

“I thought we’d start out with something comfortable. Something familiar.” Pam started laying out the cards on her tray table.

“Solitaire? But that’s a one-person game.”

“Not the way we play.”

Pam felt Jim’s eyes on her face, but she just looked down at the cards, searching for the first move.

“Black seven on the red eight,” Jim breathed into her ear, reaching across her to point at the card. Pam smiled to herself. This was going to work.

The next three hours flew by. They worked their way through four of Pam’s travel games, an episode of Knight Rider on Pam’s iPod (very helpful for blocking out the sounds of Michael’s ukulele), and a giant bag of peanut M&M’s which they had successfully kept hidden from Kevin. Pam was sitting cross-legged on her seat, knees against Jim’s leg and back against the window, laughing out loud at his David Hasselhoff impression. Jim looked down at Pam’s fingers clutching his t-shirt sleeve, then back up at her with a soft smile. “Pam. What has gotten into you today? Wait, are you drunk?” His tone had turned joking, but Pam felt her face grow serious. She looked right into Jim’s eyes and opened her mouth, when the bus suddenly pulled off the highway into a rest stop parking lot. “Green Haven,” Jim remembered with a nervous laugh. “Twelve minutes exactly.”

Pam knew this wasn’t the time for what she needed to say, and when a basketball standard in the parking lot caught her eye she said the first thing that came to mind. “I think twelve minutes is enough for me to take you in basketball.”

“Well, Pamela Beesly, I accept that challenge. And I just happen to have a basketball right here.” Pam grinned, satisfied that her hunch about the basketball-sized lump in Jim’s duffel bag had been correct. When the bus rolled to a stop, Pam was first to run down the steps and over to the hoop. She unzipped her sweatshirt and left it on the curb next to the nearest streetlight, and was already bouncing on her feet and trash-talking as Jim jogged up, dribbling the ball.

Pam hadn’t played basketball since the horror that was her high school gym class, but she didn’t think that would affect her strategy: ignore the rules completely and put Jim off his game as much as possible. Oscar had joined Pam’s team, and she knew she could count on him to make baskets or do anything else that required actual basketball skills. Whenever Phyllis threw Jim the ball, Pam would try to wrestle it from him. Whenever he tried to get a rebound, Pam was behind him trying to hold his arms back. And whenever Jim went in for a shot, Pam placed herself directly in his path so that he would run into her in the semi-darkness. In spite of Pam’s efforts, Jim and Phyllis were still ahead when Jim stopped and lined himself up for a three-point shot far from the hoop. With Jim’s arms above his head, there was no way Pam could reach the ball, but she had something else in mind. She placed both hands on Jim’s chest and stepped in close. Jim paused and she felt his body stiffen in response to her touch, waiting. She put her face close to his cheek and whispered his name. Just then, a piercing whistle came from the direction of the bus. “All aboard!”

Pam rolled her eyes and stepped back. Jim looked down at her, his head tilted to one side. “Are you trying to seduce me so that I’ll miss my shot? Truly diabolical, Beesly.”

Pam winked at him mischievously. “Half right.” She grabbed the ball from Jim’s hands and ran back toward the bus.

Pam watched Jim through the window of the bus, a little breathless from running and from the memory of Jim's chest under her hands. He paced up and down the basketball court a few times, then appeared to notice something on the ground and leaned over to pick it up.

"Count off, everyone!"

Pam groaned. Dwight had apparently used their time at the rest stop to figure out how to use the bus’s PA system. No one started counting, and Pam wasn’t sure what good it would do anyway, since they hadn’t been assigned numbers. "Question: is anyone missing? I repeat, is anyone not on board this bus?" Jim, his face flushed, appeared at the top of the steps. Pam noticed he had to tilt his head to one side to avoid hitting it on the roof of the bus, and for some reason it made her smile. Dwight glared pointedly at Jim's back as he headed down the aisle of the bus toward Pam. Getting no satisfactory reaction from Jim, Dwight sighed loudly and turned to Angela in the seat across from him.

"I think that’s everybody," Angela offered, looking up from the tiny purple cat she was crocheting and right into Dwight’s eyes. He gazed back at her with his mouth open. Pam turned to the window with her hand over her mouth, stifling a giggle. She involuntarily gasped.

"What is it?" Jim's voice came from over her shoulder, and he leaned forward to see what she was looking at. They held their breath, watching Meredith peel out of the parking lot on the back of a Harley behind a leather-clad man in aviator glasses. "Oh, my god, Pam, what just happened? Should we tell someone? Michael?"

Pam turned to face Jim, touched by his concern. He hadn’t moved from his vantage point at the window, and she glanced involuntarily at his mouth, only a few inches away from hers. Pam took a deep breath through her nose and dragged her eyes back to Jim's. "Maybe we should call Toby."

As the bus pulled out of the lot, Jim used his cell phone to leave a message for Toby (the only member of the office staff Michael had not invited to the conference in Boston) with the time and a description of the biker. "I guess that’s all we can do, right?" Pam, embarrassed that she was still thinking about Jim's mouth, just nodded.

"Oh, here." Jim retrieved a ball of blue material from under his arm. "You left your jacket out there."

"Thank you! I totally forgot it." Pam let her tone turn teasing. "My hero!" She leaned over and playfully pecked Jim on the cheek before she could think better of it. Pam shook out the sweatshirt, pushing her left arm into the sleeve. She leaned forward, trying blindly to find the other opening behind her back. After a few tries, Pam craned her neck to look back along her right arm, pretending not to notice Jim’s eyes catching on the little bit of cleavage she knew was showing at the neck of her tank top. He caught the collar of her sweatshirt and held it steady for her, guiding the sleeve onto her arm, and waited while Pam fit the ends of the zipper together. She stopped zipping just below her breasts. No reason to hide an asset, right?

Jim leaned over and whispered in Pam’s ear. "Be careful, I think Kevin just checked out your, uh…"

"My what?"

"You know. Your, ah…" Jim waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the area in question.

"Wait, are you talking about my rack?" Pam raised her eyebrows in what was clearly a challenge, hoping she hadn’t taken it a step too far; that he would play along.

"No! Bosoms?" Jim guessed tentatively.

"Jugs?" Pam giggled.

"Ta-tas?"

"Hooters?"

"Okay, Michael. Dinners?" Jim deadpanned.

"What are you, 75 years old? I think you mean...headlights."

"Wow. That is just so inappropriate, Beesly."

Laughing, Pam faced forward and realized that Kevin really was peering at her through the crack between the seats now. She turned to Jim. "Do you have an extra t-shirt or something?" Jim wordlessly rummaged in his bag and handed her a faded college t-shirt. Pam thought she detected a hint of his Snuggle fabric softener as she spread out the shirt over the backs of the seats in front of them. When she was satisfied with the barricade Pam turned to Jim, who was looking at her expectantly. She knew he must be confused, waiting to see what the new, flirtatious Pam would do next. For a moment, Pam started to doubt herself and her plan. What if she had been wrong about how Jim felt? What if he really did just want to be friends? What if she had missed her chance? What if she was making a complete fool of herself?

Suddenly, the interior lights on the bus dimmed and Michael started saying something about a 'groundbreaking' film. Pam stood on one leg so she could see over the seats, and found that Michael had coerced Ryan into helping him with the bus’s VCR. Pam flopped back down, looking up with dread at the tiny TV set hanging from the roof a few rows in front of her. After a few seconds of snow, the credits began. White Chicks. Pam and Jim groaned in unison. She rolled her head over on the seat and looked up at him. "Want to play a game?"

"Sure. What’s next on your famous list?"

Pam squinted at him, trying to decipher Jim’s expression in the faint light coming from the TV. "Truth or Dare?"

"No way," Jim said flatly. "Do you want to just talk?"

"Okay." Pam sighed, unsure of what to do next. "Tell me a story." She leaned in to Jim's side and curled her legs up on the seat next to her. Jim hesitated, then wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and she nestled in close to him.

"Once upon a time, there was a little girl who loved to draw." Pam's face broke into a wide smile, and she closed her eyes to listen.

Pam opened her eyes with a jolt. She was curled against Jim on the bus seat, his arm around her back and her hand resting on his stomach. The last thing she remembered was the sound of his voice, soft and low, close to her ear and vibrating through his ribs into her shoulder. Now all she could hear was his deep, steady breathing and the noise from the tinny TV speakers. Blinking rapidly, Pam roused herself to full wakefulness and squinted at the hands of her wristwatch. 11:15. She still had 45 minutes before they would arrive in Boston, 45 minutes to let Jim know that she was ready to be more than friends.

Pam carefully extricated herself from Jim’s arm and shrugged out of her sweatshirt, suddenly feeling too warm. She heard him groan next to her, disturbed by her movement.

Jim arched his back and yawned. “Are we there yet?” His eyes were half-closed with sleep and Pam couldn’t stop herself from reaching up to smooth down the left side of his hair, which was sticking straight out.

“Not yet. We must have fallen asleep.” Pam felt Jim’s eyes on her face, but she concentrated on her fingers in his hair and then lightly touched his left ear with her fingertips, thinking. Finally she let her eyes meet his and smiled brightly. “Turn around and try to guess my message!” Jim raised his eyebrows at her. “We have already established my immaturity, Halpert.” He smirked but turned toward the aisle obligingly.

Pam turned to face Jim’s back, one leg crossed beneath her. She took a deep breath and raised her hands to his shoulders. Pam took longer than was strictly necessary clearing her “slate,” smoothing Jim’s t-shirt against his back as though adjusting the fit of a new suit coat. She traced the first letters that came to mind.

“Dwight sucks? That was your message? Come on, Pam, I don’t think you’re even trying.” Jim laughed.

“Fine. Your turn--and it had better be awesome, Mr. Superior McKnows-It-All.” Pam folded her arms, trying to look offended, and offered her back to Jim. She felt his hands on her shoulder blades, fingertips grazing the skin at the edges of her tank top. Pam found herself breathing a bit harder as she pictured his long fingers carefully writing the letters on her back or gently brushing her shirt smooth between each one. After a few minutes Jim leaned in and Pam could feel his breath hot on her collarbone.

“Well?” She could hear the expectant smile in his voice.

Pam realized she had not attempted to decipher even one letter. “Um. I wasn’t really...paying attention?” She winced and kept staring out the window, afraid of what Jim’s response would be. He slid his hands to cover her upper arms, and Pam gasped as she felt his lips brush her shoulder.

“You never wear your hair up,” Jim breathed, and kissed the curve of her neck lightly. Pam heard a tiny sound escape her throat and she tilted her head a little to the side to allow him more room to work. Instead of another kiss, Pam felt Jim freeze, and he suddenly dropped his hands from her arms and sat back in his own seat, carefully leaving several inches between them. “I’m sorry,” he said almost mechanically, looking down at his hands.

Pam whirled around in her seat to face him again, desperate to let him know it was okay. She looked into his face, but Jim wouldn’t meet her eyes. She pulled one of his hands into her lap, absently running her fingers over his knuckles. “Jim, I...I just...” she looked at him pleadingly.

“What, Pam?” He looked up at her, his hazel eyes dark and sad.

“I wanted…I thought…on the trip tonight…” She paused, hoping that somehow he would just know what it was that she couldn’t say, that he could read it in her eyes.

Jim kept his voice low, but his tone was serious, almost desperate. “Pam, I can’t do this. Please just tell me what you want. I know we’re friends, but now you’re right here, and you’re so gorgeous, and you smell amazing, and I’m pretty sure you’re flirting with me, and I just need you to tell me exactly where we stand. And if we’re just friends, then I need to just be friends.”

Pam felt tears starting to form, but she blinked them back fiercely. Her eyes found Jim’s mouth, and she dropped his hand and reached for his face, leaning in for a kiss that would make him understand.

“Pam.” Jim held her away from him, his hands strong at her elbows. There was a new look in his eyes now that Pam couldn’t quite read. “You know I want nothing more than to kiss you right now. But I need you to tell me what you want. Say it. In words.”

Pam wanted to laugh hysterically, but she took a deep breath and looked back at Jim. It’s now or never. “Jim.” Pam had to steady herself with another deep breath. “I am so in love with you. You--”

Before she could say any more, Jim was kissing her. His hands were on her waist, her back, pulling her into his lap. Relief flooding through every part of her, Pam relaxed and kissed him back, hard. She felt his lips curve up into a smile and pulled back. Jim chuckled, and Pam couldn’t help but laugh herself. “What?”

Jim shook his head at her. “Now, Beesly, was that so hard?”