"Count off, everyone!"

Pam groaned. Dwight had apparently used their time at the rest stop to figure out how to use the bus’s PA system. No one started counting, and Pam wasn’t sure what good it would do anyway, since they hadn’t been assigned numbers. "Question: is anyone missing? I repeat, is anyone not on board this bus?" Jim, his face flushed, appeared at the top of the steps. Pam noticed he had to tilt his head to one side to avoid hitting it on the roof of the bus, and for some reason it made her smile. Dwight glared pointedly at Jim's back as he headed down the aisle of the bus toward Pam. Getting no satisfactory reaction from Jim, Dwight sighed loudly and turned to Angela in the seat across from him.

"I think that’s everybody," Angela offered, looking up from the tiny purple cat she was crocheting and right into Dwight’s eyes. He gazed back at her with his mouth open. Pam turned to the window with her hand over her mouth, stifling a giggle. She involuntarily gasped.

"What is it?" Jim's voice came from over her shoulder, and he leaned forward to see what she was looking at. They held their breath, watching Meredith peel out of the parking lot on the back of a Harley behind a leather-clad man in aviator glasses. "Oh, my god, Pam, what just happened? Should we tell someone? Michael?"

Pam turned to face Jim, touched by his concern. He hadn’t moved from his vantage point at the window, and she glanced involuntarily at his mouth, only a few inches away from hers. Pam took a deep breath through her nose and dragged her eyes back to Jim's. "Maybe we should call Toby."

As the bus pulled out of the lot, Jim used his cell phone to leave a message for Toby (the only member of the office staff Michael had not invited to the conference in Boston) with the time and a description of the biker. "I guess that’s all we can do, right?" Pam, embarrassed that she was still thinking about Jim's mouth, just nodded.

"Oh, here." Jim retrieved a ball of blue material from under his arm. "You left your jacket out there."

"Thank you! I totally forgot it." Pam let her tone turn teasing. "My hero!" She leaned over and playfully pecked Jim on the cheek before she could think better of it. Pam shook out the sweatshirt, pushing her left arm into the sleeve. She leaned forward, trying blindly to find the other opening behind her back. After a few tries, Pam craned her neck to look back along her right arm, pretending not to notice Jim’s eyes catching on the little bit of cleavage she knew was showing at the neck of her tank top. He caught the collar of her sweatshirt and held it steady for her, guiding the sleeve onto her arm, and waited while Pam fit the ends of the zipper together. She stopped zipping just below her breasts. No reason to hide an asset, right?

Jim leaned over and whispered in Pam’s ear. "Be careful, I think Kevin just checked out your, uh…"

"My what?"

"You know. Your, ah…" Jim waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the area in question.

"Wait, are you talking about my rack?" Pam raised her eyebrows in what was clearly a challenge, hoping she hadn’t taken it a step too far; that he would play along.

"No! Bosoms?" Jim guessed tentatively.

"Jugs?" Pam giggled.

"Ta-tas?"

"Hooters?"

"Okay, Michael. Dinners?" Jim deadpanned.

"What are you, 75 years old? I think you mean...headlights."

"Wow. That is just so inappropriate, Beesly."

Laughing, Pam faced forward and realized that Kevin really was peering at her through the crack between the seats now. She turned to Jim. "Do you have an extra t-shirt or something?" Jim wordlessly rummaged in his bag and handed her a faded college t-shirt. Pam thought she detected a hint of his Snuggle fabric softener as she spread out the shirt over the backs of the seats in front of them. When she was satisfied with the barricade Pam turned to Jim, who was looking at her expectantly. She knew he must be confused, waiting to see what the new, flirtatious Pam would do next. For a moment, Pam started to doubt herself and her plan. What if she had been wrong about how Jim felt? What if he really did just want to be friends? What if she had missed her chance? What if she was making a complete fool of herself?

Suddenly, the interior lights on the bus dimmed and Michael started saying something about a 'groundbreaking' film. Pam stood on one leg so she could see over the seats, and found that Michael had coerced Ryan into helping him with the bus’s VCR. Pam flopped back down, looking up with dread at the tiny TV set hanging from the roof a few rows in front of her. After a few seconds of snow, the credits began. White Chicks. Pam and Jim groaned in unison. She rolled her head over on the seat and looked up at him. "Want to play a game?"

"Sure. What’s next on your famous list?"

Pam squinted at him, trying to decipher Jim’s expression in the faint light coming from the TV. "Truth or Dare?"

"No way," Jim said flatly. "Do you want to just talk?"

"Okay." Pam sighed, unsure of what to do next. "Tell me a story." She leaned in to Jim's side and curled her legs up on the seat next to her. Jim hesitated, then wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and she nestled in close to him.

"Once upon a time, there was a little girl who loved to draw." Pam's face broke into a wide smile, and she closed her eyes to listen.