Night… 

As she pulled into a parking spot in front of Jim’s building, Pam breathed a sigh of relief simply to have arrived with all four limbs intact. She’d driven the last half hour practically asleep at the wheel, doing everything she could think of to stay alert: she’d blasted the air conditioning to a goose bump inducing level; sang along with grating top forty radio; even pinched and swatted herself. When her parents persuaded her to stay for dinner, she’d briefly considered spending the night at their house as well. She’d called Jim to confer and he’d shared their concern about her driving back alone so late at night, but it was no use. The sound of his voice was all it took to erase any question of where she’d be sleeping.

When she’d arranged with her mom to visit her aunt in the hospital, Jim had volunteered to tag along. However, that seemed above and beyond the call of duty, after barely a month together. She could tell he was anxious enough about meeting her parents without turning it into a particularly boring episode of Grey’s Anatomy and frankly, chatting about hysterectomies and estrogen replacement therapy didn’t quite jibe with how she’d imagined introducing him. Besides, she knew he’d missed his last two Saturday morning basketball games because he’d been…otherwise engaged. Not that he’d complained.

She let herself into Jim’s apartment with the key he’d given her a week earlier. He hadn’t made a big deal about it, but one look at his face and she’d known it absolutely was. Later, he confessed that he’d never given a woman his key before.

‘Not even Karen?’ she’d blurted, before she thought to edit herself.

They’d already discussed that relationship (and other, less pertinent ones) fairly exhaustively, but oddly, asking about the ‘big’ aspects of what went on between him and Karen seemed somehow less intrusive than prying into the mundane details. Pam was mortified by her own question, even as it left her mouth. But Jim didn’t seem put off by her curiosity.

‘Nope, not even,’ he set the matter to rest, even if the tinge of guilt she saw momentarily cloud his expression gave her a residual pang of sadness.

At lunchtime that same day, she’d had a key to her place made and left it for Jim to find on his keyboard when he returned from a sales call. She’d watched him notice it as he approached his desk and silently pocket it, still affecting nonchalance. Once again, he was betrayed by the slow small smile he couldn’t quite contain as he quickly glanced over to meet her eyes.

As Jim’s front door clicked shut behind her, Pam dropped her bag and kicked her sandals off next to his discarded sneakers. She was beginning to feel at home in his space. He’d left a lamp on for her and she briefly scanned the room, still somewhat startled to be privy to his formerly mysterious weekend world: his basketball sat on the upholstered arm chair where she pictured him tossing it when he came in, alongside the day’s junk mail and bills (he’d get around to going through them in a couple of days, once the accumulation had reached critical mass); the empty paper bag from the Chinese food delivery remained on the counter separating the living room from the kitchen (Mu Shu Chicken and an order of Wonton Soup, that Buddha’s Delight vegetable thing if she really wanted it); a jumble of books and newspapers overflowed from the coffee table onto the floor (surprisingly literary novels haphazardly intermingled with more predictable sports-related books and magazines.)

She also noticed that their morning dishes, still piled in the sink when she’d left, were now stacked clean in the dish rack - even the egg and cheese encrusted skillet he’d used to cook her breakfast had been scoured. She couldn’t help thinking that Roy would have done neither the scrambling nor the scrubbing; or, if he had, it would have constituted a gratitude worthy event. It was nice, having everyday incidents be…. well, incidental, instead of brownie points to be bartered for favors or forgiveness at some future, but inevitable, date.

‘Pam?’

Again galvanized by the sound of Jim’s voice, she switched off the lamp and headed to the bedroom. It was a warm night and he was lying on top of the sheets, leaning back against the headboard. Waiting for her. Wearing only his boxer briefs, an open book resting across his bare stomach, his hair was still damp and freshly combed as if he’d just showered.  His skin looked slightly golden in the dim night table light, his body all long lean muscles. He was almost unbearably beautiful. She found it hard to believe that just a few weeks earlier, she’d felt nearly as self-conscious as turned on under his rapt gaze as he’d slid off her bra and he’d blushed as she’d shakily worked at his belt buckle or wrestled with his straining zipper.

‘Hey,’ his face came alive as she walked toward him. ‘How was dinner with the ‘rents?’

‘Okay, I guess. I don’t know…they just seemed a little off, or something.’

She took hold of the hand he held out and he reeled her in, pulling her down for a kiss. His lips lingered a second against hers, as if to confirm that her sudden late-night appearance in his bedroom wasn’t just some old trick of his imagination.

‘Why?’ he asked as they parted, sounding concerned, ‘what’s up with them?

‘Probably nothing. Hanging around a hospital all day just isn’t my dad’s kind of thing. That’s probably all it was,’ she explained, as much for her own benefit as for his. ‘Oh, but hey…they totally want to meet you.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ he was clearly pleased.

‘Definitely,’ she squeezed his fingers. ‘God, I’m so tired, Jim. I’ll tell you about it in the morning, okay?’

‘Yeah, sure,’ he released her hand so she could get ready. ‘Just come to bed.’

She quickly brushed her teeth and undressed, slipping into Jim’s old college t-shirt, which was still hanging on the bathroom doorknob where she left it that morning. The cotton was faded, worn soft by a history she was only now learning, in long talks over wine-fueled dinners and from rambling conversations in the dark, when sleeping seemed beside the point.

When she returned to bed, he maneuvered beneath the sheet, raising the corner for her to climb in with him. She practically collapsed onto her back, her entire body going limp, as if the fatigue didn’t fully hit until she could lie down safely beside him. Her joints were jelly, her eyelids ached to close even as she fought to look up at Jim, who was propped on his elbow only inches away.

‘I’m really glad you came back tonight,’ he said softly, lowering his face to her hair.

His cheek was smooth and warm against hers. She could tell he’d shaved that evening, anticipating her return. As maddeningly handsome as he looked with a day or two of stubble, she’d recently discovered that there were more uncomfortable – not to mention unmentionable - places to have beard burn than her face. This hadn’t been a consideration with Roy – and not because he was any more avid a fan of weekend shaving. She wanted to tell Jim that she appreciated it, but the way he was nuzzling her neck, his hand snaking under her shirt as he pressed against her hip, already half hard, was far too distracting.

As good as it felt - and god it felt good - it was still no match for the wave of exhaustion that had overtaken her. She actually found herself nodding off, even as his tongue traced a trail of tiny kisses toward her mouth.

‘Jim,’ she pulled back slightly, ‘I…I think I just really need to sleep.’

He regarded her blankly for a moment, before comprehension registered in his expression.  

‘It’s okay,’ he answered almost too rapidly, as if letting her off the hook in embarrassment.

‘I really want to,’ she continued, desperate not to hurt his feelings. ‘Being with you is all I thought about the whole way home. But now I can barely keep my eyes open and …’

‘I’m sorry,’ she sighed guiltily, adding ‘I love you’ for good measure - and because it was such a glorious relief to finally be able to say it.

‘Love you too,’ he squeezed her thigh, ‘and seriously, don’t worry about it. I’ll live. Just get some sleep.’

He leaned across her to shut off the lamp, kissed her once soundly - if more chastely - and gathered her to him as he lay back down. She brought her lips to his chest before resting her face against the soft hair there, settling into him as he rubbed soothing circles over her back. Within a few minutes, she was practically asleep again when she felt him shift slightly and clear his throat.

‘Hey,’ he whispered tentatively. ‘You still awake?

‘Mm. Kinda,’ she mumbled groggily.

‘Can you…’ he began, his voice now low and gravelly with sleep too, before pausing to lift the edge of her t-shirt. ‘Can you take this off?’

She raised her head quizzically, not quite sure what he was asking. Even in the darkened bedroom, she could see his eyes shining, regarding her almost nervously.

‘No, not that,’ he immediately clarified, obviously worried it sounded like he was pushing her. ‘I just want to feel your skin,’ he added softly.

Without hesitating, Pam sat up, pulled the shirt over her head and threw it towards the foot of the bed.

‘Better,’ he murmured, as she lay back down enveloped in his arms.

He gently nudged her onto her side and spooned close behind her, easing one leg snuggly between hers. His fingers splayed across her stomach to hold her flush against him, then gradually slid up to cup her breast. Even from the depths of her fog, she felt her nipple tingle and harden against his palm and began to wonder if maybe she was getting a second wind after all. But just as she was about to flip over to explore the possibility, she felt Jim’s breath, warm against the back of her neck, slowing to its now familiar sleep rhythm. When she pressed gently back into him, he just tightened his arms around her with a contented sigh.

She placed her hand over his - over her heart - and gave in to sleep with him.

   *********