So… Meredith kept what she called “a healthy stash” in her van, which had nothing to do with granola bars or kale smoothies, and a lot to do with stuff you’ll need an ID to buy from a corner store. Part of it was donated to her own birthday party only five minutes after it started, despite Angela’s frown.

Meredith didn’t really spike the punch, but actually drowned it in strong unidentified alcohol, and then Creed decided to add syrup and now the thing was sweet, burned the back of your throat and made you see stars. Blurry stars.

The first cup Pam took was to help her get through Michael’s speech in honor of Meredith. Afterwards Pam claimed that this time he had surpassed himself on the amount of offences he could say per minute. Jim argued that this speech came close second to the one he gave at Oscar’s birthday and maybe he was right.

The second cup was offered to her just as Kelly was asking her why Roy wasn’t around. Without breathing, she gulped half of its contents and shrugged “who knows”. The second half followed suit.

Afterwards it got a little difficult to tell what did she talk about with Ryan, what made her give Stanley a hug and how many more cups of that maroon stuff went down her throat. Not that it really mattered, until…

“Whoa, Beesly, are you planning on drinking Meredith under the table?” Jim asked behind her back and she turned around to smile at him. Was it cup number 4? 5?

“Oh, I will,” she said trying to sound confident. “Don’t you think I can?”

Jim scratched his chin thoughtfully before answering. “You know you always have my full support, but in this case, I’m sorry but my money is on her.” He pointed at the improvised dancing floor where the birthday girl was jumping to the rhythm of “Let’s get loud”.

Pam chuckled. “Maaaybe you’re right. But you should support me, regar- regardless.”

“Oh yeah? And why is that?”

She took a half drunk, discarded cup from the nearby table and drained it, before leaning towards Jim. She had to stand on tiptoes and use his chest for balance in order to reach his ear. “Because I’m your Beesly, remember?”

At this she could swear he blushed, but she couldn't really look at him because she almost fell back. He steadied her with his arm and seemed to consider her for a moment. “Yeah, you are. But please stop drinking that crap.”

Pam grinned. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now, did they get French onion or all my efforts went wasted?”

“They got BBQ. Just to annoy us.”

“They are evil.”

She nodded enthusiastically, which turned out to be a bad idea as her head started spinning.

“I’m getting a glass of water,” she said.

Maybe he would have followed her but Michael’s voice boomed behind them, “Jimbo!” which turned out to be for the best.

Stumbling against the counter, she barely made it into the bathroom before throwing up what felt to be much more than what she had drunk on the first place. It tasted terribly and left her head spinning so hard she had to lean on the tiled wall for support for a while.

With weak, trembling steps she managed to get back to the kitchen and poured herself two large glasses of water. The taste of Meredith’s concoction still lingered at the back of her tongue.

She succeeded in finding two quarters and, making efforts to focus on the little numbers of the vending machine, she got some gum. Slightly better, although the strong mint flavor made her a little nauseous again.

The party was in full swing, with Michael, Phyllis and the guy from downstairs who run the refrigerators company now joining Meredith on the dance floor. The rest was watching, Angela whispering angrily with Dwight on one corner. And Jim?

Jim was nowhere to be seen.

Pam went back to the restrooms and nocked. Nothing. The annex was almost empty but for whispers that sounded a lot like Ryan and Kelly so she fled as quickly as she could.

He was not at his desk or at hers, although his bag and coat were still on place. Had he gone to get something from his car, maybe?

She was about to go down the elevator when she saw that the small door of the supply closet at the end of the corridor was half open.

Sure enough, there he was, intently looking at brooms and a mop.

“Hey,” she greeted.

“Hi, come on in,” he said smiling. She could tell, from a little quivering of his voice, that he had had some of Meredith’s punch as well. Also because there was something a little exaggerated on the way he showed her into the tiny closet and closed the door behind her.

“Why are we hiding?” she whispered with a giggle.

“Not hiding, Beesly. I’m looking for inspiration!”

She turned around to make sure that, indeed, they were surrounded by cleaning supplies. It even smelled strongly like some detersive. Pine? Lemongrass?

“Inspiration?” She faced him again, although the small room made it difficult to maneuver.

“It’s been too long since I’ve last planned something on Dwight,” he lowered his voice to a low whisper and she imitated him.

“Yeah… 48 hours, isn’t it?”

“You offend me. 72 hours, actually, since the stapler incident.”

“That long?”

“Yup. And we don’t want him to get comfy, right?”

“Nope, we don’t.” She looked at him, at the bottles on the shelves at his back, their bright colors gleaming under the light of the single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. His eyes were bright, and fixed on hers, almost without blinking. She cleared her throat, but kept the whispering. “So, have you found it? Inspiration?”

“Not yet,” he sighed, and softly touched her forearm. “At least not the type I was looking for.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Pam raised her free hand and placed it on his chest, feeling bold and also a little overwhelmed under the intensity of his gaze. “At least now we know this place exists.”

"That’s very useful information,” he leaned closer.

“Knowledge is power,” she nodded, right before his lips met hers.

There were traces of salt on his lips. He tasted like BBQ, despite his claims that he didn’t like it. A moment after those very lips were opening, exploring hers, taking her lower one in an almost possessive way.

She opened her mouth to him, remembering a second to late that it was half-full of gum.

"What’s-?” he asked with a small laugh.

She took it with her fingers, but he stopped the gesture with his hand. “Wanna share?”

“Ok,” she murmured, putting it back inside her mouth, challenge in her eyes.

“Oh, Beesly,” he groaned, and the kiss grew deeper, as he pressed his body to hers. His tongue may or may not have found the gum, she didn’t care, as long as he kept on doing that and making her feel all sorts of warmth spreading through her body.

She couldn’t remember being kissed like this before, with such care, and intensity, and careful hands touching her cheeks, toying with her hair, staying for a moment on her neck to finally press her back, pulling her gently even closer…

After glorious hours, or maybe just too short a moment, he drew back a little.

“Whoa,” she managed to whisper.

“Whoa back at you,” he said with a grin. And then, nonchalantly, he popped the gum. Her gum.

“Very sneaky,” she said with a giggle.

“I have some skills,” he shrugged, and she giggled again, not sure of what to say or what to do. Suddenly the empty space between their bodies felt cold, and wrong, and she all but wanted to grab his tie and pull him forward back to his lips, only-

“Do you think the party is over?” he asked, and he reached for the handle of the door.

And that felt even worse.

“Maybe,” she managed to say. He stepped into the hallway, and she had to take a deep breath before following him.

The moment she was outside the supply room, it hit her, like a ton of bricks. Roy. She was supposed to be with Roy. She was engaged to Roy, for crying out loud.

Jim was walking towards the office, and then turned around. “You coming?” His voice sounded normal, but his eyes didn’t meet hers. Was he regretting this? Was he remembering Roy as well, almost as if that closet had held a spell that had made them conveniently forget reality and get lost on an amazing world of 16 square feet?

She followed without a word, and he held the door open for her as they entered the office. Michael was singing an old country song, Meredith slumped against his shoulder, and Pam decided she had had enough. After that kiss, everything would be downhill, and she didn’t want to have to be taken home by a reproving Angela, who, by the way, was nowhere to be seen.

“I think I’ll call it a night,” Jim said from behind her, and he reached towards his desk to get his bag.

“Yeah, me too.”

“D’you want to share a taxi?”

Pam nodded, and he reached for his phone to call it.

They rode down the elevator in silence, while she wondered what exactly had gone wrong… besides the fact that she had cheated on her fiancée. But, strangely enough, she was having difficulties feeling how wrong this was supposed to be. It just didn’t hit her. The only overwhelming feeling was that she missed Jim’s body against hers, and it seemed there was no room inside her for any other thought.

The taxi hadn’t arrived and she and Jim stood side by side next to the front door.

“So…,” he finally spoke, and she felt relieved that he wouldn’t stay silent for the rest of the night. “Where is Roy?”

On second thought, maybe silence was not that bad.

“I don't know,” she shrugged, trying to sound indifferent and finding, to her surprise, that this was not a foreign emotion regarding her fiancée. “Out drinking with his brother. Or maybe on the way to the lake for the weekend. Or something like that… I really don’t know.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” Jim said, his eyes fixed on the gated to the parking lot.

“Are you?” because it didn't seem like it inside that small closet, she wanted to add.

“I’m not sorry he’s not here,” he clarified, scratching his neck in what Pam had learn to recognize as a nervous gesture. “I’m sorry you’re having a bad time because of that.”

She nodded. It seemed like words were taking longer than usual to reach her brain. “Actually,” she started, as her own thought slowly formed inside her head. “The funny part is I wasn’t having a bad time without him.”

“No?”

“No. The opposite, maybe.”

“Huh,” Jim buried his hands on his pockets and didn’t say a thing until the cab parked in front of them.

He opened the door for her and gave directions to the driver. She had the impression his mind was somewhere else, but she didn’t know how to ask, and didn’t like the fact that there was other person. And yet the way his leg was jumping, and his eyebrows frowned, made her open her mouth at least three times, just to close it without a clue of what to say.

Too soon, the car was parking at the curb of hers and Roy’s house, dark and empty, and unwelcoming. She wanted to say out loud that she'd rather stay in the car, or wait outside the office building or… well, anywhere, if he happened to be there as well, but she didn’t know how.

So, silently, she followed as he exited the car and held the door open for her. And watched as he climbed back in.

“Well, bye,” she muttered.

“Yeah, bye.” She turned around, slowly, but then he called for her. “Pam?” He reached out, and held her wrist. “You know, this… what happened, it wasn’t a mistake, all right?”

“A mistake…?”

“Don’t wake up tomorrow thinking it was a mistake. Because it wasn’t.”

“Ok. It wasn’t,” she agreed firmly, and he finally smiled and let her go.