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"How about June 10th?"
Her heart stops for a moment, but she isn't entirely sure why. Something like fear is bubbling up in the back of her throat, threatening to overflow with uneasy thoughts and spoken words she wouldn't mean and might regret later.
He's staring at her from behind the microphone, a glass raised in self-praise at his announcement. In his eyes, she sees a mixture of happiness, pride, and alcohol, even from this far away. The gaze is beginning to burn a hole into her, still immobile in her seat.
The clapping dies down fast, and she is more than aware of everyone's eyes on her.
"I . . ."
She doesn't know how to form a sentence in the vast chaos that is now her mind. Her fiancé is right here, setting a date for their wedding, and after the three-year engagement, she should be happy. She should be thanking God that there's an end in sight. But instead, she's thinking of him. The other him.
The one that's staring into the dead air before him, his face a collision of shock and hopelessness. But she can't see that from where she's sitting.
"Pammy? Did you hear me?" Roy calls out to her,still amplified over the microphone. She cringes because now everyone can hear the problem, if they somehow hadn't noticed her reaction. Or the lack of one.
"I can't do this right now," she blurts, the fear coming to a boil. She can't even feel her feet move as she grabs her coat, hustling out of the room before she can catch anyone's faces. It has suddenly become very hot, and she feels short of breath as she takes the stairs two at a time down to the lower deck.
As she leans against the railing, her gaze hanging over and gliding along with the boat's waves, she feels her eyes sting. She doesn't want to cry, especially when she still can't figure out what's going on. It's like she's watching herself on a television screen, wondering what she was going to do next and why she'd even gotten herself here in the first place.
Someone is behind her, undoubtedly the man she'd just left hanging. She doesn't want to see him now.
"Roy, I'm so sorry. I don't know why . . . Can we talk when we get home?"
She hears a soft chuckle, and a familiar, deep voice reaches her ear.
"I'm about ten drinks short of being Roy, I think," he says, and she turns to meet his face.
The other him.
"Oh. Hi Jim."
The indifference in her voice startles even herself. Its almost like she can't feel right now; everything is numb. She wonders how Roy is taking everything, but she knows it shouldn't be a surprise to her that he didn't come after her.
"I don't know what I'm doing," she admits in a small voice. She's staring at her feet, and the white of her Keds is obnoxious against the dirty black floor. She can't get herself to match his gaze, and she doesn't know why.
He sucks in a breath, and then she feels his hand on her arm.
"It'll be okay," he whispers.
She wants to melt into his hand, to embrace him, to hide from the world with him for a little while. Even his hand feels warm through her many layers. She wants to believe that it will be okay, except she isn't really sure of anything right now.
"I just . . ."
She can't finish the sentence. She doesn't even know how it ends. He nods, and for the second time that night, she wonders how much of her he can understand without words. It's almost alarming, but she likes it.
"I know," he answers. It sparks a million questions in her mind, but she's too scared to ask any of them. But maybe they're why she's out here and not upstairs dancing with her fiancée.
She feels like she isn't in control of her body again, because she's suddenly moving towards him, and her face and arms are pressed against his warm chest. Her heart jerks when she feels his arms around her, protecting her from her own decisions. A stray tear sinks into the material of his trench coat. She prays that no more come out.
"Why?" he asks simply. He sounds like he really wants to know. He also sounds a little hopeful. She's thinking she might have found part of the answer here in his arms, but the idea frightens her. She's tried not to think about it for so long, so she just shrugs in defeat.
She feels cold as he pulls back, holding her arms and looking at her in a way that makes her want to cover her face. It's like earlier that night, in the half minute of silence they caught themselves in. Only now, he doesn't seem to be looking for something. Maybe he thinks he can find it.
"Lots of reasons," she says honestly, but it’s not enough. He scoffs.
"Such as . . . what?"
"I don't know." She's back-pedaling, and is positive he can tell.
"I think you probably do."
A wave of anger hits her. Who is he to tell her what she's thinking, how she feels, what she knows? Why does he always have to say things that make her think of a hundred different 'what ifs'? How come half a minute of staring at him has suddenly made her rethink all her future plans?
"You have no idea what I'm thinking, Jim," she says sternly, a little taken aback at her own defenses.
He's staring her down again. He's willing her to speak, and she's at a loss for words. He's waiting.
She almost says it.
"Pam? I think Roy just passed out, and we'll be breaching shortly, so you best tend to him before we hit land."
Her gaze falls past Jim and lands in a glare on Dwight.
"Yeah, I'll . . . get to that."
Dwight nods his head in approval, before hurrying back. She doesn't move an inch, but her eyes stay focused somewhere past Jim. She's vaguely aware that he's still holding her arms, patiently.
"I don't want to get Roy," she whispers, surprised she's said it at all.
"Then don't."
Looking at him now, she tries to ask through her eyes. She can't get herself to say it out loud, but he's not giving her anything. She's too timid to jump off the ledge with him.
"Jim? Come on! Last call for drinks before it’s over!"
He sighs at the sound of her voice; the other her. Pam can't see why he's dating her, when she's so glaringly a wrong fit. But he is, and she's with Roy, and it used to make a little bit of sense, but it doesn't anymore. But it’s the only thing she knows.
"We better get going, I have to figure out what I'm going to tell him tomorrow."
"Just be honest."
He turns away from her, and she can tell his words have double meaning. Triple, even. Be honest with Roy. Be honest with him. Be honest with herself. She doesn't really know how to do that.
But right now it's late, and she's tired and just wants to curl up in a ball and sleep and think. Maybe she'll stay on the couch; she hates the smell of alcohol on Roy's breath at night and the lazy snoring it causes.
Maybe tomorrow, she'll talk to Jim, and maybe he'll help her figure this out.
Maybe she already knows.
Maybe all that's left is to take the final leap.
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Story Notes:
An AU take on Booze Cruise.
I might have to add genres and warnings as I go on.. not entirely sure what the story will entail yet.
The title is from the song of the same name by the Goo Goo Dolls.
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I might have to add genres and warnings as I go on.. not entirely sure what the story will entail yet.
The title is from the song of the same name by the Goo Goo Dolls.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Okedoke, here we go. I'm venturing into the world of chaptered Office fanfic. And I'm a little excited, hehe.
The rating is really low now because I don't know exactly what this story will entail. Genres and warnings and ratings will probably change as I go along.
Big thanks to Becky215 and Cousin Mose for the helpful betas!
Disclaimer: Don't own them, wish I did. Man, if I owned Jim... that would be THE life.
Reviews are crunchy and full of fiber.
-
The rating is really low now because I don't know exactly what this story will entail. Genres and warnings and ratings will probably change as I go along.
Big thanks to Becky215 and Cousin Mose for the helpful betas!
Disclaimer: Don't own them, wish I did. Man, if I owned Jim... that would be THE life.
Reviews are crunchy and full of fiber.
-
Chapter End Notes:
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To be continued...
Seriously, reviews would be so appreciated. Thanks!
To be continued...
Seriously, reviews would be so appreciated. Thanks!
flonkerton is the author of 8 other stories.
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