Mark ducks out of the party with his girlfriend while you're singing your second karaoke song with Michael. You'd tried to get Pam up there, offered to sing with her if she was too shy, but she'd just sat there with a glowing smile, shaking her head every time you'd asked. She enjoys seeing you suffer way too much, you think with a smile.

An hour later, you're wrapping up the last of Phyllis's brownies for Kevin who'd said they were the "best brownies ever". He's the last remaining guest besides Pam, and as you're sending him home with a "Thanks for coming, man. See you Monday," you collide with Pam in the kitchen doorway, crushing some dirty paper plates between the two of you. You slide a hand to her elbow to steady her, apologizing for almost knocking her over, and she blushes in that most adorable way, saying it's okay.

Then you notice that she's cleaning your house after your party.

"Um, Beesley, guests don't clean after the party. That's my job."

"Your roommate ditched you with the cleanup duties, and the people we work with are slobs. Let me help."

You can't resist the idea of you both being in your house alone together, spending time together, even if it is while cleaning, so you nod and say okay.

You think you make a good team. Things are cleaned up in record time, and just as you're coiling up the cord to the karaoke machine- the last task of the night- you happen to look out the window and see Dwight coming up the sidewalk. Pam seems to see him at the same time, because she turns to you with big eyes and a conspiratory smile on her face. You dive for the light switch, and she closes the blinds, and you both have to cover your mouths to keep from laughing out loud.

"Come on," you say before you know what you're doing, and you reach out for Pam's wrist. She slips her hand in yours instead, and giggles quietly all the way as she trails behind you up the stairs to your bedroom. You know you're being more dramatic about this than you have to be. You could have just sat quietly underneath the windows and waited for Dwight to leave, but this is much more exciting, involves much more time for you and Pam to be touching, to be laughing together.

You both collapse on your bed, and you can't help the disappointment that sweeps over you when your hands separate.

"Why do you think he's here?" you whisper.

 "Maybe he dropped one of his Birkenstocks in the playhouse out back while making out with Angela."

"What?!"

"You know that theory I had about Dwight and Angela?" she asks and you nod. "Well, I was right. I saw their feet- together- sticking out from your shed, They were doing something in there."

"Wow," you laugh.

"Yeah, ew," she says.

You're both still whispering even though Dwight's knocking has ceased. Soon enough, the headlights from his car swing across the house, briefly illuminating your room.

"Finally," Pam says, and flops back against your pillow. You find yourself staring because this is surreal. For the second time in one night, Pam is in your bedroom, and this time, she's making herself comfortable against your pillows, and she looks like she belongs there. Instead of questioning it, you decide to enjoy it, and join her, lying back with your head on the other pillow.

You're both silent for a long time, both staring up at the ceiling together. You listen to her breathe, slow and steady, and begin to wonder if she's fallen asleep.

But then you hear her voice, soft and intimate. "I think you need some of those glow in the dark star stickers for your ceiling, Jim."

You chuckle. "Oh yeah?"

"Definitely."

"I'll look into it."

Pam laughs softly. "I think it's a good idea."

You feel the bed shift beneath you as she rolls onto her side to face you. Her arm is underneath the pillow, propping her head up a little, and you're just overwhelmed with a feeling of amazement, seeing her make herself so comfortable on your bed. It takes you a moment with a sore neck before you mirror her position, rolling to your side to face her.

"Hey," she says, softly, and it takes you a moment to find your voice and answer her back. You both lie there, gazing into each other's eyes. You'd always been amazed at the depth of connection you felt whenever you met her eyes directly, though it had never lasted long. But now, it's as if you're daring each other to keep the connection, and the longer you do, the deeper you fall for her.

Your hand on her waist makes her inhale sharply, and you see a spark of fear flash in her eyes. It's so brief, though, you don't know if you'd really seen it, and soon, with a rustle of fabric, she's moving closer to you. You feel like your stomach is falling in an elevator as she keeps eye contact and slides her hand up your neck to cup your face. You take a deep breath that matches the one she'd taken moments earlier, and soon, her leg is between yours, her head is on your pillow, and you're connected all the way from your legs to your foreheads. Your faces are so close that she looks like a cyclops, but you don't care, because you're still looking into each other's eyes like that, and holding each other tight, and your breathing is labored, and she keeps letting out shaky sighs.

Finally, something clicks in your brain- you can practically hear it- and you close your eyes and tip your head up slightly, making contact with her lips. They're so soft and yeilding, you think you might go a little crazy, and then you do when you hear a quiet whimper in the back of her throat as you release her lips with a little wet sound. When you open your eyes to look into hers again, you're alarmed to see the tears glistening in the corners of them. The one that slides onto the pillow breaks your heart a little, and she buries her head in your shoulder. You hear a sob, and you hold her a little tighter.

You know things couldn't have gone any further, but you can't help but feel the sting of rejection when she scrambles from your arms and your bed to stand in the middle of your dark room. She spins around twice, obviously disoriented and looking for your door, and it gives you just enough time to catch her before she runs, to grip her hands in yours.

"I- I have to go," she sniffles. Tears are running down her cheeks.

"Pam?" you ask simply, unable to keep from reaching out a hand and wiping away her tears. She looks so broken, and you want to get into her head- you want to fix her.

"I just- Jim, I can't- Roy..." she answers in broken sentences, and you understand. You drop her other hand and shove your own into your pockets.

"I know. I'm sorry..." you're sorry she got so upset, but you're not sorry that you both shared what you did.

"It's okay. I just--" she points over he shoulder, and you nod.

"See you Monday?" you ask, trying to smile.

She smiles slightly and nods, and you stand in the middle of your dark bedroom as you watch her walk away.