Pam shakes the thought out of her head forcefully as she emerges from her slumber. She smells the scent of bacon wafting in from the kitchen and she’s not sure if she’s still dreaming. She stretches and is disoriented for a moment. What am I doing on Jim’s couch? The events of the previous night come hurtling towards her in disjointed images, Karen kissing Jim, Jim putting on his jacket to go confront Roy, Roy yelling at her, Her getting her admission’s packet from Stanford, Roy pushing her, Roy’s face looming over… She shakes her head defiantly; she is not going to think about that. Not anymore.

She rolls off the couch and stretches again, a quick glance at the clock shows that it’s already ten. Work. The thought makes her head ache.

“You know if you had slept any longer I would have considered checking your throat for apples.” Jim calls out from the kitchen.

“Why aren’t you at work,” she asks as she pads over to the counter, sliding onto a barstool.  “Besides shouldn’t you kiss me instead?”

Jim reddens at the thought of kissing her and for a few seconds while he pretends to laugh his mind contemplates grabbing her by the waist and pushing her against the wall, sliding his tongue into her luscious mouth, sweeping his hands against her full breasts…

“Earth to Jim,” Pam says as she makes her way around the counter, “I asked if you had an extra toothbrush.”

“Yeah, in the medicine cabinet attached to the new box of toothpaste,” he hopes his voice doesn’t give away the fact that he was imagining ravaging her in his kitchen. Where the fuck did that come from.  She emerges from the bathroom a few moments later, her face scrubbed clean and her hair swept into a messy bun.

“You never answered my question,” she says as she retakes her seat at the counter, her legs swinging like a child’s. 

“I figured it would help if you woke up and someone was there.” He says with a shrug,

Her eyes start to water at his thoughtfulness and she has to reach for an apple to shield both of them from the oncoming waterworks.

“Careful not to choke, I might have to kiss you,” he mumbles as she takes a bite.

She smiles into the apple as she takes a bite and pretends to choke in ‘surprise’ at his words. She’s always been a fabulous actress and taunting Jim has always produced some of her greatest performances.

He’s around the counter in less than a second, concern and panic fighting for room on his face. As she looks up at his earnest expression, the game isn’t fun anymore and she straightens and says “psyche!”

The look of relief on his face is quickly replaced by indignation. “One,” he says sticking out his index finger, “Not fucking funny Beesly, Two,” he says with emphasis as his thumb emerges from his fist, “Not fucking funny Beesly, Three,” Out comes his middle finger, “Who even says psyche anymore? Isn’t that from like 1987?”

She sticks out her tongue at him as she makes her way around the counter towards the stove. “What are you making?” she asks lifting up the lids on the various pots and pans.

“Filet mignon and mussels,” he deadpans as he reveals bacon, sausage and pancakes.

She claps her hands in delight and despite her brattiness, or maybe because of it, Jim feels on overwhelming surge of tenderness for her. They heap up their plates with food and forego the kitchen table and plop on the couch to eat. After he finishs his bacon he begins to try to snatch some off of her plate instead of going back to the kitchen for seconds. The second time he tries to snatch a piece she catches the end of it in her mouth and grins up at him.

He tries to look disgusted but he can’t help but grin.

He hates, absolutely positively hates to rain on her parade when she seems so happy but he promised Karen that they would spend the evening together, so he has to get this process started. “I know this is the last thing that you’re going to want to do, but I thought that we might go over to Roy’s place and snag some of your stuff today.”

Her fork hovers in mid air and suddenly her appetite is gone. She carefully places the plate on the coffee table and curls up on her end of the sofa, “It was my place too,” she says her voice eerily calm, “I lived there for three years.” She says this with a shudder, “That’s a really long time to lie to yourself you know?”

He stares at her for what seems like forever before whispering, “Yeah I think I do.”

Karen takes the cigarette from him and takes a long deep drag; the sheet is bunched up around her mid section as she leans her elbows on her knees. How did this happen again?

She had come here to break up with him and he had been so nonchalant- so Ok with it. His acceptance had almost made her blood boil. Had she been just a casual lay? Did he not even want her for himself? Not even a little bit? At that moment it had seemed to be the most rational thing in the world to make him want her, to make him beg for her. So when she lowered herself to the ground and took him in her mouth and heard him groan her name she had been relieved to know that yes- she still had what it took to bring a man to his knees.

Now, an hour and a half later, sitting in his bed, his tanned torso lying next to her, she’s not really sure what she’s doing anymore.

“I think my fiancé is falling in love with his best friend” she says almost to herself.

“Fuck,” he says in that entirely non-committal way that she abhors, “That sucks, is his best friend a dude?”

“No!” she replies with indignation, “It’s his neighbor from childhood, she’s also the receptionist from our office.

“That’s hard to compete with he says,” as replies as he taps the ash of his cigarette into the ashtray on his bed.

She gives him a withering stare and she takes another drag, “She broke up with her fiancé yesterday and showed up at his place in the middle of the night soaking wet, with no stuff and no place to stay.” She shakes her head in disgust, “And now I’m sure she expects him to let her stay at his place until she can find somewhere to live.”

“You should get her to move in here,” he says and at her look of indignation he shrugs his shoulders, “What? There are efficiencies open here and you can keep an eye on her if you really think she’s that big of a threat.”

She studies his face for a moment as she looks him over, “You know, you’re smarter than you look,” she finally says with a wry smile.

“Baby, what you don’t know about me could fill a book,” he replies with a cocky grin as he puts out her cigarette and pulls her towards him.