She’s been wondering if he ever thinks about her, or when he does, or why. She wonders when she'll stop thinking of him in this way, or if she ever will, or if she'll ever find out what his lips feel like.
She’s thinking about this as she’s getting ready to leave at the end of a long work day, when the phone rings. And it’s him.
“Oh, my God,” she says, because hearing his voice is like seeing a ghost, and it’s scary and wonderful and weird.
And then, after a few awkward exchanges (she can’t believe she asked him what time it was where he is, how stupid was that?), they somehow fall right back into their old habits of conversation. They’re trading stories and making each other gasp and laugh and she doesn’t notice the time until Ryan and Dwight suddenly walk in and holy shit, it’s 9 p.m.
Ryan looks like hell, like he’s been through some kind of battle, and he doesn’t respond when she speaks to him, so she calls a goodnight after him, and then Jim is asking her, “Oh, do you have to go?”
“No,” She says quickly. “Sorry, no, Ryan just left.”
“Ryan is still there?”
“Well, no,” she says, smiling with the familiarity of their back-and-forth. “Because he just left.”
“Ok, Beesley,” he groans, and now she’s grinning.
“Hey,” she says, “Can I call you back on my cell phone? It’s like nine o’clock at night and I have to get out of this building.”
“I guess I can allow that,” he agrees, and she can hear his grin. “But do it fast, because I’m going to need to hear more about why you and Ryan were at the office so late.”
“Oh, yeah,” she agrees. “Here’s a little preview: it definitely somehow involves Dwight.”
***
“Hey,” he says, out of the blue.
It’s hours later, and she’s in her apartment. As far as she knows, he’s still at his office. Since they’ve been talking, she’s tidied up her living room, cleaned her stovetop, and done some dishes. She’s gone through the messy stack of papers that’s been littering her little kitchen table forever. She’s placed her newly paid and ready to mail bills in a neat stack on the small table by the front door and is throwing out all of the junk mail when he speaks up, and something in his voice makes her stop. Smile.
“Hey.”
There’s a pause, and then, “What are you doing right now?” It almost doesn’t sound like a question and his voice is so gravely.
“Um,” she says, and laughs a little.
“Right,” she can hear the smile in his voice, and then he sounds serious again. “How long do you think it would take us to meet halfway between Scranton and Stamford? Do you think we’d make it before the sun rises?”
***
He calls her back from his cell phone and she can hear his car starting when she picks up. Her dad talked her into installing this Bluetooth thing that makes her phone sync up with her car speakers so she puts her phone on the passenger seat and then it’s like he’s right in the car with her while he gives her directions. Neither of them knows where exactly halfway between their two offices is, so they’re periodically interrupting themselves to announce the exits that are coming up.
“What are you listening to?” She keeps asking at random intervals. He has his iPod plugged into his speakers and she keeps picking up on melodies.
The numbers between exits keep getting closer and closer together, and then he tells her to get off at a scenic overpass he knows she’s about to drive by. “I’ll be there in five minutes,” he promises. “Wait for me in your car, I’ll be right there.” And he hangs up.
Her heart is pounding as she pulls into a space and puts her car in park, thudding in her ears as she taps her fingers nervously on her steering wheel. She thinks to look at herself in the mirror, and she’s quickly smudging some lip-gloss over her lips when she sees headlights in the reflection and whips her head around to watch his car pull into the spot next to hers. She quickly stows the lip-gloss back in her glove box and sort of gathers herself and then gets out of the car. As she stands up, she catches a glimpse of him through his windshield, watches him take a deep breath before unbuckling his seat belt and opening his door.
He comes around to meet her and she can’t stop grinning at him, but he’s doing this funny thing where he keeps trying to smile and then his gaze drops and it fades and then he looks up and tries to smile again.
Wordlessly, they meet in the middle of their two cars, eyes fixed on each other’s.
“Hi,” she finally says in a small voice.
“Pam,” he breathes, and then they’re in each other’s arms. Finally. Forever.
Story Notes:
It always strikes me that if Pam or Jim made the tiniest changes, everything might have been different. Here's a story about what might have happened with one of those tiny changes. -s*
Author's Chapter 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.
watchthesky84 is the author of 10 other stories.
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