Saturday
everybody's working for the weekend:
The basketball game ends with Jim's nose bleeding profusely and Roy's triumphant crowing drowning out the disappointed groans of the office staff and Pam just knows it's not going to be a good weekend.
She wants to help Jim, or at least apologize for her fiancée's elbow smashing into his face, but Angela has already whipped out the First Aid kit. Before Pam can take a step towards joining them, Roy has bounded over and pulled her close for a victory kiss.
"Great game, honey!" She tries to sound enthusiastic, but he doesn't notice that her voice falls flat. "The lake should be beautiful on Saturday!"
"What? Oh, yeah, listen, Pammy," Roy says, and it's just how he always says I'm disappointing you again. "Me and the guys were talking about camping out there this weekend. You know, to –" He raises his voice and glares at Jim. "Celebrate our win."
While his back is to her, Pam mouths "I'm sorry" to Jim. She blinks when Roy faces her again, shakes her head when he asks if she minds. He turns away, and her lips move once more, I'm sorry, but Jim is being led away and she's only talking to herself.
everybody wants a new romance:
The sad fact is, she doesn't even mind coming into work on a Saturday. Roy is gone and even if he was home with her or they were at the lake together, she knows what she would be doing. Watching him watch sports and trying not to wonder What's Jim doing right now?
Pam arranges herself at her desk, clicks her computer on, then spins away from it. Her chair revolves in a slow circle and when she comes back to her rightful place, Jim is standing in front of her, grinning.
She's dizzy.
"Being productive, Beesly?" he inquires, and he's kind of bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking far too happy for a man who's about to spend his entire Saturday afternoon selling paper.
"Not even trying," she manages to reply. He's wearing a blue shirt as bright as his eyes and why is that so distracting? "Why Michael thinks a receptionist is necessary when no one even knows the office is open today is beyond me."
"Why, Beesly." Jim feigns horror at her lack of enthusiasm. "You know you're an essential part of the Dunder-Mifflin family. Michael can't tie his shoes without you. I wish I didn't mean that as literally as I do."
He winks at her before heading over to his own desk and she wonders why she still feels so dizzy.
everybody's going off the deep end:
Boredom rolls in like a thunderstorm, fast and furious, and Jim organizes a thumb wrestling tournament that leaves the two of them with their hands interlocked and their game faces on.
"I'm going to kick your ass," she informs him, and he laughs a little, because she sounds so prim even when she's trying to be threatening.
He lets her win because he likes to see her eyes sparkle and later, when they're alone in the kitchen, he sets his ham and cheese down like a gauntlet and demands a rematch.
Jim traps her thumb in record time and she gasps, laughs, calls him a cheater. He doesn't mind, because her fingers are warm against his and then her lips are, too, and he's not sure how that happened.
She's kissing him, or maybe he's kissing her, and their fingers are still entwined but this isn't a game anymore.
everybody wants a second chance:
Pam avoids him for the rest of the day and that's not the same thing as ignoring. If she was ignoring him, she'd be pretending he's not there, but with Jim, that's an impossible task, so she just keeps her eye on him and veers off course every time he looks like he's heading her way.
The phone doesn't ring once – it's Saturday, for God's sake – so she has plenty of time to weigh her options. Tell Roy. Don't tell Roy. Apologize to Jim. Kiss him again.
She's leaning towards that last one as the clock ticks towards five, so she gathers her things a few minutes early and doesn't wait for him to walk out.
He notices, of course, and sixty seconds later he slips into the elevator beside her, squeezing through just as doors start to close. She's not surprised - he's always been good at coming through in a pinch for her.
"I'm sorry," he tells her, and now he's avoiding her eyes, and she hates it.
Pam takes a deep breath. She looks at him. She says, "I'm not," and he kind of stares wide-eyed at her and asks her to repeat herself and she shakes her head and tangles their fingers together again. "I'm really not."
It's not so bad, working on a Saturday.
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