After dropping off the groceries—which Jim insisted on helping with, and Pam couldn’t deny there was a little thrill to having Jim in her kitchen, putting away her coffee and cereal—they turned out of the driveway together in search of lunch. Pam hadn’t had the time to realize it when they were leaving the Y (she was too busy being embarrassed, amused, and enchanted all at once by Jim’s little performance) but she appreciated that Jim let her drive, unlike Roy who always had to be at the wheel. Of course, it was their—her—Roy’s truck, but still…she remembered driving around in high school and even when it was her car Roy had had to be in charge. After a brief swaying dance, where Jim tried to open the door for her only to realize it was her truck so she, not he had the keys and he had to get out of the way, Jim just folded himself into the passenger seat without a complaint.

Of course, now that they were on the road she had to address the fact that they hadn’t actually decided on a place to go. They were just…going. Out on the town. “Footloose and fancy-free,” as Jim put it when she pointed this out to him. She laughed, he laughed, it felt good. Somehow, without actually talking about it, she found herself driving to Chick’s Diner, and Jim nodded in approval as she pulled into the parking lot.

“I always said you had good taste.” He grinned. “Or maybe I have psychic powers, making you come here. It’s my favorite.” He waggled his fingers and made “ooo” noises at her. She stuck her tongue out as she stepped out of the car, then quickly bent over while he couldn’t see her because of the truck and made a snowball. He was still “ooo”-ing when she stood straight and threw the snowball right in his face.

“Did you see that coming, Mr. Psychic?” she crowed, as he wiped snow out of his face.

“You are so asking for it, Ms. Sassy.” Pam squealed and ran for the door of the diner. A snowball hit the back of her coat and she wheeled around just in time to take another in the chest.

“That’s it!” Before she could finish scooping another snowball a third hit her, this time in the leg, and she glanced up to see Jim scraping more snow out of the back of the truck. No wonder he’d been able to get three off before she could get inside: he wasn’t bending over to gather snow. She flung her last snowball and ducked into the diner as another snowball hit the glass door, and found herself confronting the scowl of the elderly lady behind the counter—a scowl that turned into a bright smile as Jim slipped into the restaurant behind her.

“Jim! It’s been too long.”

“Hi Tina!” Jim let the woman—Tina, apparently—fold him into a hug and winked at Pam over her shoulder. “Table for two, if you don’t mind. And sorry about your front door.”

“It’s snow, Jim, it’ll brush off.” Tina grabbed two menus and then pulled Jim’s arm down to put her mouth to his ear and stage-whispered, loudly enough to be heard over the jukebox in the corner: “Who’s your date?”

“Uh…” Jim turned beet red (specifically Schrute Farms #3 beet red—Pam and Jim had spent a good afternoon that week examining Dwight’s product catalog to establish the “beetiest” red, and it was standing Pam in good stead right now) and turned towards Pam.

Before he could say anything, Pam surprised herself by taking the bull by the horns. “I’m Pam.” She slipped her arm around the one of Jim’s that Tina wasn’t holding. “And I’m delighted to meet you, Tina. But don’t let this hooligan get away with vandalizing your front door just because he’s got a handsome grin. Put him to work Do you have any heavy boxes to lift, or high shelves to reach?”

Tina smiled at Pam, but her next words were addressed to Jim in that same stage-whisper of a voice. “So this is Pam…”

Jim coughed. “Uh, yes. Tina, Pam. Pam, Tina, my mom’s best friend from high school. Tina, Pam and I…”

“Work together. I know.” Now Tina made eye contact and…yes, definitely winked at Pam. “Good to have you here.” She led them to a little table by the window. “The usual, Jim?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be right back to take your order then.” And she was off.

Pam directed her attention to Jim, who was now the color of a ripe plum. “So this is Pam, huh?”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry about that. Tina’s like family, and…well, she likes to pry.” He gestured around. “And, um, I kind of eat here a lot.”

Pam’s mind was going a mile a minute. So Tina was like family…and Jim talked about Pam to her? Or to his mother? Or both? Not that she didn’t talk about Jim to her mother—she could see more than a little of her mother’s “so, which one is Jim” in Tina’s “so this is Pam”—but she couldn’t help but wonder what he had to say about her and why.

Whatever it was, he was clearly embarrassed by it, because he was still trying to do damage control. “So, uh, when she comes back I can explain that this isn’t a date.” He made a little gesture of deprecation. “She, uh, she likes to jump to conclusions.”

Pam pretended to ponder this for a moment. “So you’re saying…this isn’t a date?”

Jim looked at her like she had grown a third ear. “What?”

She tapped her fingers on the counter. “I suppose you’re right.” He looked ever more confused. “I mean, there was dancing—when you tried to open the car door, which was very sweet, but completely unnecessary. And there’s music,” she gestured towards the jukebox, which was gamely pumping out a rock-and-roll version of “Silent Night,” “that’s two out of three. Though I suppose we haven’t eaten yet, so…you’re right, this isn’t a date.” She picked up her menu and hid behind it in order to give herself a moment to marvel at her own boldness. “So, what’s good here…”

Before Jim could speak—he seemed to be stricken dumb for some reason—Tina returned with a giant, steaming hot chocolate in one hand and a mug of tea in the other. “Your usual, Jim. And tea for your date.”

Pam looked up at her in shock. How did she…she stole a glance at Jim, who was looking red again, and she knew exactly how. She and Jim were going to have to have a serious talk about this—though of course, by now they’d need to have several serious talks, not least about her own behavior. If she’d realized how much her attempts to cling to her relationship with Roy had been covering up an interest in Jim…let’s just say that the last couple of years would have been very different indeed. Assuming Jim was interested…which the color of his ears definitely suggested was a safe assumption for her to make. Not to mention the presence of the tea in front of her. She decided to let this bold New and Improved Pam keep running things for the time being and smiled up at Tina.

“Oh, this isn’t a date.” The other woman looked briefly disappointed before Pam continued. “Jim and I agreed, it doesn’t count as a date until you bring the food. So…” she glanced down at the menu and back up. “Pancakes?”

Tina’s answering grin threatened to swallow her face whole. “Sure thing, Pam. The usual, Jim?”

“Uh…sure.” Jim looked relieved to have a handle on at least one thing.

“I’ll be right back.” And she was gone.

Pam smiled at Jim over her tea and gestured to the hot chocolate in front of him. “Your usual, huh?”

“Um, yes. Pam…”

“Drink up, Jim. There’ll be plenty of time for us to talk after the food arrives.”

He picked up the hot chocolate and took a deep sip. “I’m going to hold you to that, you know.”

She shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”