Jim runs his hand across the back of his neck. He can see the tab she’s talking about. He’s just grappling with two questions right now:

1)      How drunk was he that he decided to log on to his Dunder Mifflin email on a weekend, on Mark’s computer? Where did this productive Jim come from, and why now? Should he start drinking at work or something?

2)      hb123 is Pam’s mom?!?

He decides #1 is just something he’s going to have to deal with on his own time. #2, however, he’s going to need Pam for.

“Wait, that’s your mom?”

She giggles. It’s very distracting, especially with his arms around her (when did that happen? Not that he’s complaining).

“Yeah. That’s her personal email. And I want to know, mister,” she pokes him in the ribs and he can feel the warm spot long after her finger moves away “what you’ve been telling her.”

“Hey now, Beesly, slow down. She emailed me. I didn’t even reply yet. See?”

He shows her the tab, the email open with no reply.

“She wants you to call her?”

Shrug. “Seems like it.”

Her face lights up like a small child at Christmas, or Dwight when they announced the Hobbit movies (but not at all like Dwight when the Hobbit movies came out).

“You should totally call her back on speakerphone so I can hear!”

“I’m not sure that’s…”

“C’mon Jim! We need to prank her somehow to get back at her for emailing my boyfriend behind my back.”

There’s a long silence. Well, it’s actually like a second, but it feels long. Really long. Because she’s just called him her boyfriend and…

“Pam, I”

“Jim, I”

“You go.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I just…”

“Pam.”

He puts his hands on her shoulders and looks deep into her eyes. OK, bad idea. He can feel himself getting pulled in, the urge to kiss her is rising, and so he forces her to look at her nose instead. He still thinks it’s adorably cute, just like all of her, but he can concentrate a little better this way. He takes a deep breath.

“Pam, you know how I feel about you, and you told me you feel the same way.”

She’s about to interrupt and he puts up a finger to silence her, mouthing “my turn” before putting his hand back on her shoulders.

“And I’m extremely willing to be your boyfriend”

She brightens.

“But I think we need to address three things first.”

She nods and throws this look at him that he knows means “go on.” She mimes zipping her lips to emphasize that she’s going to let him say what he needs to say. He grabs her hand as she throws the key away and keeps staring at her nose.

“One, I need to know this isn’t a rebound. I…I don’t think I could handle that. I can’t just be the guy you use to get over Roy. This is…this means…you mean too much to me for that.”

She’s bouncing up and down and he gestures for her to speak.

“It’s not. You’re not. I’m in this for you, Jim, I really am. This…I know I just broke up with Roy but this isn’t a rebound. I promise. This is real, Jim, at least for me. You’re my best friend, but that’s not it, you’re more than that, or at least I hope you are, and I want to be more than that for you too.”

He smiles at her and without meaning to the smile widens to a grin. She’s smiling up at him and it takes real effort to go on.

“Two, I also need to know: did you break up with Roy just for me? Because I don’t want to be that guy who’s stealing you” (almost true) “or have that kind of baggage hanging over us, whatever us is” (very true).

This time she almost interrupts him, hurrying over his words.

“No, no, no. Or rather, yes but no. I didn’t break up with Roy because of you, I broke up with him because of him, and me, and us. Not this us,” she gestures between them “but him and me us. I realized he didn’t really care for me the way I wanted to be cared for, needed to be cared for—and more importantly than that, I realized I didn’t care for him that way either. I don’t think I would have realized that without you, without seeing you, really seeing you; I’m not even sure it would have happened if I hadn’t met you and discovered what things could be like. But I didn’t do it for you. I want you; I want us; I want this. But I did what I did and I’ll be happy I did even if this doesn’t happen, or doesn’t work out.”

She’s looking so worried at him that he has to grin, has to twinkle at her just to improve her mood even if he didn’t feel like doing it. But he does feel like it, so it’s not exactly an imposition.

“Bite your tongue, Beesly. This’ll work out. I just needed to know. That leads me to Three: how long have you known?”

“Today. This morning.” She glances at the computer clock “about eight hours.”

“That you liked me?”

“That you liked me. That I liked you, this way? Maybe six or seven.”

“Wait, what?”

“I think I’d known somewhere inside for longer; probably months, maybe years. But I figured it out today. It became real for me today. And I just…I broke it off with Roy because I realized he was never going to give me what I needed. But I came here because I recognized in myself what I saw in you. And I’m sorry it took so long, and I’m sorry if I hurt you along the way, and I’m sorry I…”

“Sssh, ssh, it’s OK. We got there in the end, didn’t we?”

“We did. And now it’s my turn for questions.”

“Oh really? Who said you got to ask any? This is my question time, Beesly, not yours.” He loves calling her that. It’s a constant reminder that she’s not just Pam, she’s still Beesly. She didn’t marry Roy. She’s not going to marry Roy. She’s here, for him. For him.

“Suck it, Halpert.” His heart flips. “My turn now. First: how long?”

“How long did I know I…felt this way? Six seconds after we met.”

She smacks him on the shoulder.

“Seriously, Beesly. Although I won’t deny I feel it more than I did now. As for the other half, I’ve known you felt this way for about five minutes. Maybe six now.”

“Well get used to it.” He thinks he could do that. “Second question: what do you want this to be? Because Jim, I’m in. I’m sorry I called you my boyfriend before, but….”

He cuts her off. “Stop apologizing, Pam. I’m in too. Whatever you want to call it. Boyfriend, girlfriend, whatever. I’m in.”

“Jim, you’d make a terrible girlfriend.” She sticks out her tongue.

“Suck it, Beesly.”

“Maybe later.”

While he’s trying to comprehend what he just thinks he heard, she pipes up again, looking mischievous.

“Third question: are we going to prank my mom now, or what?”