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“Oh, come on, Jim! Expiration dates are arbitrary! The FDA doesn’t even regulate them!”


“I...don’t know if that’s true. But, hey,” he said, “It’s your funeral.”


“My funeral?”


“Well, your gut, I guess.”


“Yeah.” Then, with more conviction: “Yes. Yes, it is. And I say that it doesn’t matter.”


“Okay.”


“That’s why we have noses.”


“Sure.”


“And taste buds.”


“Whatever you say.”


“So we can tell if food has expired.”


“We also have these handy dates on packages, so we don’t have to risk--”


“It’s fine. I’m not risking anything. Mr. Know It All.”


“Okay.”


She ripped the lid off her yogurt, now less chilled than she usually liked it, and threw Jim a sideways smile. She looked at him as he stood on the other side of her desk, still but for his twitching smirk.


He needed a haircut. It suited him, even when it was longer--a Beatles-style mop-top--but, despite the outward-curled ends, it nearly covered his eyes. And he had beautiful eyes. Unusually long lashes.


She wondered if he knew--if he knew how unusual he was. No one else would warn her about a passed expiration date. No one else would have known that this yogurt was her yogurt. Her favorite.


“You should cut your hair,” she blurted, then dipped her spoon into her yogurt.


“You mean--like, myself? Because I’m not sure I even own a pair of scissors.”


“You--” She sputtered. She stirred her yogurt. “You don’t own a pair of scissors?”


He smiled widely at her. His eyes practically twinkled from under the awning of his hair. “I don’t think so? Why, Beesly? Is that a crime?”


“Well,” she said, floundering for a comeback. “Well, how do you cut--”


“What?” he challenged her.


“Uh--”


“Yeah, ‘uh.’ That’s what I thought.”


“Clamshell packages!”


“Oh, my god, Beesly.”


“Or coupons!”


Coupons? Do you hear yourself?”


“Okay, well, what about the, uh--” she hesitated, her brain whirling, then she plowed ahead as soon as she saw that he was about to interrupt her. “The tags on clothes!”


He rolled his eyes.


“Ah-ha!” she said, pointing at him. Triumphant. “The tags on clothes! Everybody needs scissors for those!”


He leaned onto her desk. His folded hands extended toward her, past the plane of her computer monitor. Into her space. She felt the breeze of his breath when he responded: “Not if you rip them off, fabric be damned.”


Her eyes lingered on his hands, clasped together in front of her. She pushed her own second-guesses away and wrapped her fingers around both of his wrists. An impulse. Only an impulse. 


Under her touch, he tensed. His lips parted. His eyes lost their playfulness, and he sucked in a fast, noisy breath.


She squeezed his wrists, then smiled slyly as she whispered, “I should check your fabric sometime.”


He dipped his head, chin to chest, and closed his eyes. He kept them closed for several seconds. She thought she saw the ghost of a smirk on his face, but she couldn't be sure.


Notions--unspeakable, forbidden notions--crossed her mind. Crossed her mind of their own accord. 


She spoke to short-circuit her imagination. “You can’t have ripped clothes,” she said.


He lowered his forehead to the surface of her desk.


“That would be unprofessional.”


In an instant, he raised his head. “Pam.” 


She ignored his tone. “Jim?” she asked, playfully.


“Don’t.”


She straightened up in her chair. Stared at him. His chest moved with deliberate breaths. His eyes locked with hers. His hands separated to grasp her forearms. 

 

She couldn't read him, but stopped herself from pulling away. Instead she maintained her light-hearted tone. “Why, Jim. Whatever could you mean?”


She watched as he released her arms, then stepped back and stood tall.


“Don’t,” he started, then drew a short breath. “Don’t eat that yogurt.” Then he turned and walked back to his desk, keeping his poker face raised. 


Minutes passed. Jim lifted the handset from the phone. Dialed a number. Refused to look at her.


Even though he didn’t see her, she tossed her yogurt into the trash. “I won’t,” she whispered, then resumed her work. A stack of faxes should have been sent an hour ago.

Chapter End Notes:

This wrote itself. I actually returned to watching episodes of "The Office" after quite a long time. I still have one more section to go on my long WIP, but, again, this wrote itself. No apologies. :) 

I hope you enjoy it. I did. :) 

Feedback is ♥ 



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