"And you stood at your door with your hands on my waist, and you kissed me like you meant it. And I knew, that you meant it."
First dates generally can be nerve wracking. Sweaty palms, a quivering stomach, trembling knees... All came with the territory of being in such close contact with someone that could potentially be one of three things- a friend; a foe; the person you never want to live without again.
She was pretty confident that he was the third one.
Pam had been on exactly three first dates in her entire life. Roy, when she was sixteen. Jeff Davis, when she was seventeen and she and Roy had broken up for two weeks. And Ben, the cartoonist that Kelly had set her up with when Jim was in Stamford. Three first dates. Two with men she didn't think she'd ever recognize again on the street. One with a man that she'd loved, that she'd planned a life with, that she'd been engaged to.
Three first dates.
It kind of explained why when Jim poked his head into the conference room, asking simply if she was free for dinner that evening, her heart started to race, her palms became moist, her eyes welled with tears, and she nearly collapsed under the weight of her own joy and fear.
Her fourth first date. With a man she'd longed for since she was with the man who'd been her first, first date.
Her breath caught in her throat as she stared in surprise back at Dan and Melissa, the director and cameraman in the conference room with her. Their faces were alive with smiles, radiating excitement. And she was terrified.
**********
It's amazing when one is getting ready for a first date how much care and effort goes into looking perfect. Of course, when dating a new individual, one tries to keep their appearance as perfect as possible. But for that first time - for that first time that he was going to come to her apartment, ring her doorbell, and pick her up in his new Saab - For that first time that he was going to take her to a restaurant, for that first time they were going to sit across from one another as something that could realistically, potentially be more than friends - For that first time that he was going to bring her home, maybe he'd come in for coffee, maybe he'd kiss her goodnight... That first time needed to be perfection.
Pam found herself standing in her bedroom approximately seventeen minutes after she'd clocked out for the day, pulling on a simple black, cotton skirt, shorter than the ones she normally wore to work. She had no idea where they were going, going only on Jim's quick, "I'll pick you up at 6:30?" question, but Lord, she needed to look perfect for this night.
It was a worrying feel, the not knowing. What had happened with Karen? Should she dress in slacks instead of the skirt, maybe pull on a well fitting jacket and straighten her hair? Was that what he wanted? Should she wear a shorter skirt, one that Kelly had begged her to buy one afternoon at Macys that she'd never dared to drag out of her bureau? He was what she wanted. But what was he thinking right now? Should she go all out sexy? No, no, that wasn't her. The slacks weren't either. This was becoming a problem.
Maybe... Maybe he just wanted her, too.
So. Black skirt that was a good inch above the tops of her kneecaps, that flared out with a flirty lace edging. She slid on a push up bra under a pale green v-necked, short sleeved sweater, and attacked her hair with a big curling iron. She carefully applied her makeup, smoothed lotion on her legs, slid on black pumps, and sat to wait. Which seemed surreal. To be sitting on her sofa, dressed in an outfit to please the man she wanted so badly. She briefly contemplated rushing back into her bedroom to change into an outfit more like what his (maybe current??) girlfriend wore, when the doorbell rang.
**********
Her hands shook as she opened the door. He stood with his hands at his sides, his hair short. He was still wearing the suit from that morning, but he'd lost the tie, and had unbuttoned the first button of his white oxford shirt. It took everything in her not to launch herself into his arms, to squeeze him tight, to kiss him, to remind him that he'd once loved her. To remind him that maybe he did still love her.
Instead, she stood with her hand on the doorjamb, and softly whispered, "Hi."
He grinned. A smile she felt like she hadn't seen in months. "Hi," He replied.
And she couldn't stop herself.
She stepped towards him, her hand going to rest in the center of his chest. They stood so closely - much closer than they had in months, and she searched his eyes for answers. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, his brow furrowed, as if he didn't know what to say back to her, silently with his own eyes.
Knowing he was scared... Seeing the pleading look on his face. Understanding exactly how he was feeling without saying a word.
She stood before him and slid her other hand up to cup the back of his head, bringing it down to hers, so close she could feel his breath on her lips. His eyes were wide with surprise, but they crinkled up like the smile that registered on his face. And she kissed him.
**********
A first kiss is something special. Of course she'd kissed him once before, at the Dundies, but this time was different. A first kiss of being completely sober, of having (maybe) nothing standing in the way of their wanting to be together. A first kiss of begging and wanting and willing to give everything.
And that was what that kiss was.
Her lips found his soft and aching as his hands found her hips, dragging her closer to him, pressed right up against him, the heat of his body threading itself into her. It was new, but it was oddly familiar.
They stood locked by their mouths for what felt like a long time. Until she realized they were standing like loons in the doorway of her apartment. When she pulled back, she smiled gently at the redness of his lips, of the flush of his cheeks, of the shock and awe on his face.
She put his hand in hers and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind them. And she kissed him like she meant it.
Story Notes:
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Chapter Notes:
I love this song, almost as much as I love me some JAM. So, the thought of putting them together was too good for me to NOT write something.
I own nothin'. Not JAM, not "Hands Down" by Dashboard Confessional, not anything. ::sigh:: But I really wish I did.
I own nothin'. Not JAM, not "Hands Down" by Dashboard Confessional, not anything. ::sigh:: But I really wish I did.
Chapter End Notes:
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