Dear readers,
Please do not hate me. I promise you from every fiber of my being that I did not plan this chapter. It was pulled out of nowhere. I didn't even plan what they would be doing for this chapter. I didn't plan the beginning, middle, or end. It just happened. I had a picture of Jim swigging his beer, and that was all, and all of a sudden, it was the story and it evolved into this. However, please note that while this chapter does change the course of the story as far as things unrelated to the JAM relationship, it will not change any of the date plans, or what is accomplished on them.
I ask that you please examine more than what's being said, and look at this chapter and see how Jim and Pam have changed throughout the course of the story. How different they are from chapter one. And maybe that will make you feel better. Also, I ask that you really do respond to the questions she'll post at the bottom of the chapter because now she's a little confused.
Also, I want you all to know that you're the best readers/reviewers out there and I love you bunches. :) I love the little community I find in my reviews :) Also, those of you looking for more AG stuff (because I can't seem to lay off writing more stories!) I posted a new one. This Is Your Life. So, check it out if you wish.
-AG
Reviews:
Kerber- Thank you. I was hoping you all would like it... I feel like Jim's past is NEVER explained, so I thought I'd put it to good use.
Penguin- Aww thanks!! The Office will come back on April 10th. The writers returned last week, and the actors return on March 10. Dinner Party is first episode. Ahh, Sora, cool. Is she on MTT too? I have a friend named Sora there.
Eaglechic- Glad to make your day better!!! And yes, she definitely, definitely did! Kudos to you! I watch Full House with my kid and that's what we watched that day, lol.
Squint- Thankkkks! And yeah, I see Jim as being the wanderer. Haha. George. RAR. haha.
Anon- Felicity is dang awesome!!! We put that play on in 4th grade, just like Jim! And there was so totally something going on with Felicity and Ben:)
Pirate- Hahahahah. I love Adelaide. She's my favorite. And MTMT is my favorite song on there... I do like Luck Be A Lady, too. :) And thank you.
DPP- Aww, sorry to make you almost cry. Unfortunately, that's life. I try and incorporate a lot of my own life into fics, which is where Andy came from. I just think there needs to be real problems and real conflict in fics, so... Yeah. Oh, I loved when Jim responded! It cracked me up. I swear, I'm so weird. I write stories and they crack me up sometimes!
Nat- Hah, I love making up things about Jim! I'm glad you think it fleshed him out--thats so important!! And the latin competition is fun... Guilty as charged!! Thanks for reading!
LoveMeSome- Thank you, thank you! Jim is precious!
Autumn's Child- Yeah, it's definitely a lighter story than Diary... Diary's all about inner conflict and turmoil. And thanks so much about the realistic thing. I was going for that. And about Alyssa--I know I PM'd this to you, but my god, that cracked me up that you found that!!! Definitely an oversight.
KT- hah, I hardly ever write this story in one setting again. That was almost 30 pages. This one was written in one setting, three hours. It's the first one in a while :) And no, W is not for Wedding.
Henantz- Aww thanks. Jimbo is the hardest character for me to write, so of course this one is entirely in his perspective. Shrug, go figure. I'm already in love with him, haha.
Dancer- Aww thanks! Kathy! Hah, the zit faced girl :) And 7 letters.. Yikers! here's to 6!
Ruli- sigh you leave such great reviews, darling! The clues were so hard to come up with, lol!! And George is funny, and I debated not putting him in there, but I figure if I talk to my lions so does Pam. School tours yes! and the mom-Pam thing is great. Especially the beginning when Mom ignores jim! hahaahah. And autistic girl! Wow!!! Andy is a four year old boy, which is much more common. And he's severely autistic, too. I understand the heartbreakingness of it all, believe me. Sorry to hear that about your cousin, but it is such a growing thing. T is for... Tuna Fish.
Princess- Haha! I love to make you all cry! And thank you!
Christine- I'm glad you didn't hate it! And I won't make you wait that long, I promise... And I'm glad you loved it:)
Lunar- Thanks! And your last review was fine, just wanted to set things straight. Sorry if I sounded mean :) And thanks for the compliment!
Tacos- I love your name. Cracks me up. And thanks! I hate one-sided secondary characters. Haha
RabidFrodo- Phoenixville is just trying to be like Snyders, PA ;) Which MB is it? I'm on MTT already and LJ... Let me know if its another. :)
Jgrrl- Sorry to dissapoint re: the kiss. Haha. but there was one at the beginning!!
Brney- Aww thanks. And I hope you do cry! then you're invested and I gotcha. Haha. Haha, no, we cant make up letters...
Iluvhalpert- Aww thanks!! Thanks for reviewing, I love hearing your thoughts! This one's way shorter!
KristinePotter- Yah, I think it was a hard step for Jim because now he's letting her in a bit more and letting Alyssa go... Not sure if you got that symbolism or not, but yeah. She's basically stepping in and being the fifth that left. :) And seven letters, but I never said seven chapters...
Jim took a swig of his beer, listening to the sounds of the TV blaring in the background. It was 4:10, and he'd already gotten back from his date with Pam, exhausted and utterly unable to even remember everything that had happened. He normally wasn't like this. He was Jim. He could remember every single detail of every single conversation when it came to her. But something had changed that day. Something had snapped and suddenly, it didn't seem as important to him that he memorize every wrinkle on her forehead, every tone in her voice, or every word she said.
The dates were getting less creative, and honestly, he was fine with that. He didn't need to impress her anymore. He didn't need to try and make her fall in love with him. That Jim was done. For so long he'd treated her like an unattainable object, some sort of prize to be won. She wasn't. He'd treated her like the Queen of England, and for the first time, he realized she wasn't.
He'd knocked on the door five times before he heard her bark at him inside her apartment. "Jesus Jim! You have a key!" she'd yelled. He sighed, rolling his eyes and opening the door.
"Where are you?" he called, looking around the apartment, noticing she hadn't yet done her weekly clean up. There were newspaper clippings and paint brushes all over the place, a few paper plates here and there, a stack of CDs on the floor. He stepped over the Beatles collection as he followed her voice.
"Shh! You're waking me up," her voice sounded groggy, and he rolled his eyes, laughing as he put his ear to the door. He knocked slowly, softly, before opening the door quietly and slowly, afraid she might be dressing or mute. Not that she ever had before, but today was a day to take extra precautions. She groaned as the door creaked, putting the pillow over her head and screaming into the mattress. "No, I don't want to get up," she said as the bed shifted under her.
He sighed, reaching his hand out and rubbed her back, "c'mon, you got to, Beesly. We've got a day in front of us, you know."
She muttered something, and the tone of her voice made him not want to know what it was she'd said, but then she stuck her butt in the air like a three year old, bringing her knees to her head and said, "why do we have to do this so early? Dates are normally after I brush my teeth."
"Well, today's can't be. Come on sleepyhead," She groaned in response, so he tickled her sides. She turned over, clutching the sides as she told him to stop sternly, but he could see a bit of a smile playing on her face. He sighed, standing up and walking towards the door. She grinned, putting her face back down in the pillow before he turned around, tickling the bottoms of her feet. She jumped three feet into the air, shrieking and giggling.
"Stop! Stop! Oh please! Please stop!!" she whimpered as he continued to tickle her.
"That's what she said," he replied, letting her feet down against the comforter. She sat up in bed, rolling her eyes as she rubbed them, yawning.
"I hate you for waking me up this early," she said, climbing out of bed and into the bathroom. She loaded toothpaste on her toothbrush, positioning it near her mouth. "What are we doing today?"
"I don't know yet," he replied as she stuck the toothbrush in her mouth.
"Umphadoya?" she said, and he laughed, hearing sounds but no words in what she said.
"Finish brushing," he said, heading out into the kitchen to make her morning bagel. He made sure not to let any of the spices fall anywhere other than her plate.
He took another swig of his beer, flipping the channels on the remote. He'd missed the Phillies game that afternoon and was hoping to at least catch the score on ESPN, if not a few of the highlights. She'd been so moody all morning long he couldn't understand why. He'd checked Dwight's calendar the day before and nothing out of the ordinary was coming up (or at least there were no little red Ps anywhere). Maybe she'd just woken up on the wrong side of the bed, but normally she looked somewhat happy to be out on a date with him. Today, though, she seemed like she'd been dreading it.
A commercial for Clorox came on, and he couldn't help but sneeze in reaction. He thought he might be allergic to the commercial itself, which was ironic considering the commercial was for a cleaning agent. He rolled his eyes, his forehead wrinkling as he thought back to earlier that day.
"What kind of cream cheese is this?" she asked, picking up the bagel and staring at it.
"Well, it's pink, so strawberry."
She made a face in reply. "There's a whole tub of plain in there."
"What? You didn't want Strawberry?" he asked, and she shook her head lightly. "I thought since it was close to empty it must be your favorite."
"No. Everything goes with the plain," she said, taking a bite of her bagel. She sighed, putting it down. "It's no the same. Let's just go." He watched as she got up out of her seat and walked toward the door, grabbing her purse on the way out.
The Giants were running the bases. He couldn't figure out why. He'd been in la la land, thinking about how she'd been reacting earlier that day. What was her problem? It was like there was a new Pam going on their date that day. The old Pam wouldn't have cared if he'd put the wrong kind of cream cheese on her bagel. She would have just eaten it, thankful he'd made it for her. When did she start reacting this way? And if she really wanted her bagel with plain cream cheese, she should have told him that last week when she told him about her bagel regiment.
"Jim, I'm going to have to be a stickler here," she said as they approached the entrance to the mall. "You can't use the T date for The mall. That's cheating."
"I'm not," he replied, looking at her. She was biting her cheeks, looking ahead almost angrily. He couldn't figure out why she was so upset. He opened the door for her, and she went straight in, muttering a small 'thanks' under her breath but nothing else. He watched her walk in front of him.
"Well, you're welcome your majesty," he muttered under his breath. She stood by the gumball machines, waiting for him to catch up, and when he did, she just turned on her heel and walked beside him.
There was something different about her, and he couldn't figure out what it is. She was angry at something, but he wasn't sure what. Was it something he'd done? Said? He wasn't sure. But there was something that was keeping them from having a normal date… Something was keeping her from being open to him, and he had no idea what it was.
"We're going in here," he said, touching her arm and leading her away from the bookstore and into the silent shop with cotton flying all over the place.
"What is this?" she asked, looking around the store at the children running around everywhere. "Build-A-Bear?"
"You make your own teddy bears," he replied, and she pursed her lips together, nodding slightly. "Can you try and be a little bit more pleasant?"
"What?" She snapped, turning to face him.
"You've been acting angry all morning. Either tell me what's wrong or try and be a little bit more pleasant," he replied.
She didn't say anything, just smiled at him in one of those fake smiles that children put on after being scolded to 'be nice'. He sighed in frustration as a young girl in a bright blue polo shirt came towards them.
"Hi, I'm Brittany!" she said, overwhelmingly perky, her dark brown hair shining. "Have you ever been to Build-A-Bear before?"
"No," Pam muttered under her breath. Okay, so it must not just be me. "How do we do this?"
"Oh, no problem!" Brittany said happily. "I'll help you, come right this way." She walked toward the back of the store, pointing at the different shades of bear fur there was to choose from. "Pick your bear color."
Pam sighed, looking up at the wall and pointed to a color quickly. It was a light, butterscotch colored bear. Brittany grabbed the outline of the bear down from the shelf, leading them over to a group of music boxes. "Do you want your bear to play any music?" she asked, smiling.
"What do you have?"
"Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star…" Brittany started, reading off the list of songs, "The teddy bear song… That's the one from Full House, if you know it." She said quickly, and Pam nodded, rolling her eyes when Brittany looked back to her list. He watched her, mesmerized by how strange she was acting. God, what the hell is up with her today. "We have a lot of Christmas songs," Brittany said, "I know it's not Christmas, but still… Happy Birthday… Umm, Jesus Loves Me. And we have A Whole New World, So This Is Love and Colors of the Wind."
"A Whole New World," Pam sighed, as Brittany reached into the cupboard and pulled it out, placing it inside a little pouch built inside the bear.
"Now we're going to stuff the bear," Brittany said, walking over to the stuffing machine.
"Yippee," Pam deadpanned to herself, but Jim heard her. He wanted to slap her upside the head for being so damn difficult.
Her bear had turned out really well. They'd placed a star over his heart where the music box was, so anytime Pam pressed it she could hear Aladdin singing through the bear. The cute button nose glistened, and the bear's dark brown eyes were happy and cheerful, even if she hadn't been. They'd given her a Certificate of Birth, asking Pam what the name of her bear was. She'd shrugged, so Brittany had left it blank, telling Pam she could fill it in later. Pam had whispered under her breath something about it not being likely, and when they'd gone to leave, Jim had no choice but to say something.
"Pleasant, remember?" he said, carrying the bag from Build-A-Bear that Brittany had offered them once they'd finished.
"I'm being pleasant enough," she replied, pursing her lips in silence. "Where are we going now?"
"I was going to take you somewhere I think you'll enjoy, but you have to promise to be nice."
"I am nice," she replied.
"Yes, for the majority of the time you are," he said, and she glared up at him. "What's wrong with you today?" he asked softly, begging her to tell him.
"Nothing," she said quickly, plastering a fake smile on her face. It didn't look fake to anyone other than him, but for someone who had become a master at knowing the smiles of Pam Beesly, it looked like the fakest smile he'd ever seen.
He sighed, thinking about it. Why had she been so darn defensive, all day long? She'd been much better after that little talk, rolling her eyes without looking at him and not muttering what he was sure was on the edge of her lips. She'd been almost completely silent the entire next activity, leaving him to run ragged in his mind, trying to figure her out.
"What is this?" she asked, walking into the cold room filled with square 6' by 6' stones and random pieces of glass, glues and paints. "What are we doing here?"
"We're making tiles," he replied, leading her to a place on a small bench. She sat down slowly, sitting at just the right place on the bench where he couldn't have sat next to her if he wanted to. She'd forced him to sit across from her. "It's a tile-making company. Kids have their birthday parties and stuff here."
"Okay," she replied. "Why are we making tiles?"
"I figured you might want something leading up to your garden," he replied.
"I don't have a garden," she said, looking at her stone, as if contemplating what to make.
"Well, I'm talking about when you get your terrace. I'm sure you'll have a garden to go with your terrace," he replied, but she was already working, no desire in her to give him the benefit of replying to him again.
They'd made three tiles each, in complete silence. She'd smashed glass squares into little pieces, her hammer hitting them hard, at some points, the glass even sputtered all over the place. One time it hit him in the face, but she didn't look up, even when he reached his hand to his face and cried out in pain. Hers were better than his, jagged pieces of glass everywhere, glued down roughly. On one she'd painted the sun, shining bright against a dark sky. It was a kind of strange painting. The sky was a dark blue on one end of the stone, fading into a light one on the other. A sun in one corner, the moon in another. Her second mosaic was simply abstract, glass plastered all over the place, as if she hadn't even tried, but it looked incredible. The third one was nearly all black. She'd painted it straight black, before attaching a few shining pieces of electric blue mosaic on the stone. It glimmered lightly, but the dark overtook even the glimmering parts with ease.
His weren't as lovely. On one, he'd made a mosaic family. A pink stick figure and a blue one, a little pink stick figure out to the side. On the other, he'd simply painted random splotches of paint, going with the paint on a canvas idea he'd been so intrigued by when they were at the museum. The third had been a yellow background with one hand on each side, reaching out to each other, their pointer fingers just barely grazing.
He got up with his beer and looked at the mosaic squares on his kitchen table. They were drying before he'd give them to her. She hadn't wanted them to dry at her house. He was planning on letting her keep all six, after all, he'd only made his for her, and if he had it his way, they'd end up at the same place anyway.
He sighed. When had she become so mean and cruel?… No, she wasn't mean or cruel, but something had obviously been bothering her. He couldn't put his finger on why he felt differently at the end of this date. Sure, she'd been behaving strangely, but it was more than that. It was like, maybe, for the first time in his life, he'd looked at her and not seen perfection. He'd seen something different.
He'd always chalked her little imperfections up to be a product of Roy and her broken heart. He'd always made excuses for why she was behaving differently in real life than she was in his head. If dating Pam had done anything for him this week, it was give him the image of the person she really was. He wasn't stupid or hurt enough to think this was how she was all the time. He knew he wasn't that fuzzy in his brain to have missed her so completely, but it was a sense of clarity to him, hearing how she'd acted. Seeing her reactions to him. Seeing her in her worst mood. It was as if, finally, after years of her climbing up and being on the top of his mountain, being put on that pedestal, she'd finally fallen off. She'd just jumped off and fallen flat on her face in front of him, and it was almost like that pedestal didn't exist anymore. He'd gotten rid of it. And he wasn't sure if that was a good thing, or a bad thing. He just knew it was different.
His phone rang in his pocket, and he pulled it out, glancing at the caller ID. He sighed as soon as he saw those three letters popping up. P-A-M. Normally he would have jumped at the chance to talk to her. He would have marveled at how amazing it was to hear the special ringtone he'd picked out for her (Best of Friends from Fox and Hound) and he would have answered cheerily, chipper. But this time, well, this time was a little bit different. He groaned lightly to himself, unable to control it as he remembered how she'd been behaving earlier. But there was something about her that caused him to be physically unable to turn away from her.
He opened his phone slowly, "hello?"
She was silent on the other end.
"Hello?" he repeated more urgently, getting fed up with her every extra moment he spent on the phone with her.
"Hey," she said softly. She sounded sad, dejected, hurt. He couldn't quite figure out what it was that she sounded, but even though he wanted to have walls up around his heart, he couldn't. Not when he heard her sounding like that.
"Hi," he said, even more softly. And then, "are you okay, Pam?"
"I…" she trailed off, before sighing. "Will you come over? Or can I come over there or something? I…" she trailed off.
"You what?" he asked.
"I need to talk to you," she said softly, barely a whisper, but he heard it. His heart raced. What? What does she need to talk to me about?
"Okay," he managed to croak out. "I can be there in five minutes."
She sighed. "No you can't. You're a good fifteen minutes away."
"I was planning on speeding," he said gruffly.
"Don't. I don't want you to get killed on your way over here," she replied, and then he heard the click on the other line. He sighed. What in the world? He took one more swig of his beer before grabbing his keys and rushing to the car.
When he got there, he knocked three times. She didn't answer the door. He turned the door knob slowly, finding it unlocked. He eased himself into the apartment, tossing his keys on one of the tables by the door, right next to hers, and took a quick look around her apartment, noticing she wasn't there. He could see a vase on her table, the flowers withered and about to fall apart. He noticed a tablecloth on her counter, and he could tell it was dripping with water still, even though it was obvious that she hadn't been using it yet that day because her painting was dry and the towel no longer felt cool. He noticed on the floor shreds of a piece of paper, charcoal smudges all over it, and he walked towards her room, for the first time noticing that her hallway wall was bare of the thing he loved most about her apartment (other than her): her art.
He knocked on the door to her bedroom lightly, opening the door and walking in, leaving it open to the wind. She was laying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, her cell phone resting on her chest. He walked over to her, whispered her name, but she didn't move. Finally, he picked up the bear, pressing the small star on his heart, the sounds of A Whole New World filling the room.
She sat up, looking right ahead before she sighed, getting up out of bed and walking a few feet out of her room. She turned to look at him, before turning back toward the living room, beckoning him to follow her. He did, and she sat down on the couch, extending her legs as she wrapped the quilt around her legs and arms, swaddling herself in it. "Can I see my bear?" she asked quietly, and he nodded, tossing it into her lap. She reached up to grab it, holding it under the quilt in her arms.
"Pam, what's wrong?" he asked, and she looked down at the floor, sighing.
"I'm sorry," she said softly, looking up at him. "I don't know why I was such a jerk to you today."
"It's okay," he said softly.
"No it's not." They were both silent for a moment, before she continued. "I completely ruined our date."
"Neah," he assured her, even though he'd been thinking the same thing himself earlier. "You were just upset," he said. Weren't you?
She nodded. "Yeah… but I had no right to treat you that way."
"Okay," he said softly. She looked up at him, and for the first time since that morning, she let a small tear fall down her cheek. Well, at least we're seeing some emotion… he thought, watching the tear fall. "Can you talk to me about it? Whatever it is?"
She shook her head no slightly, and he sighed, getting up out of his chair. He walked over to the couch, sitting down next to her.
"Can I hold you?" she shook her head no again, and he sighed, before changing the subject. "Have you decided what to name your bear yet?"
She nodded slightly.
"Well, what?" he asked.
She rested her chin against her knees, looking over at him with soft eyes. "Burke."
"Burke Beesly Bear?" he asked, and she smiled lightly. "That's quite a name."
"Actually," she said softly, her voice barely a whisper, "it's Burke Bear Beesly."
"Ahh, like Paul "Bear" Bryant," he said, and she nodded, smiling. "Well, where did you get a name like Burke?"
She smiled, cocking her head to the side. "I have a friend. It's his middle name. I guess I just wanted to name the bear after him." She sighed, and he smiled, reaching out to touch her hand. She looked at him, her eyes wide and somewhat fearful.
"Does Burke Bear Beesly know what's going on?" he asked, and she smiled lightly, her head bopping up and down slowly. "Do you think he'd tell me?" She shook her head slowly, smiling.
"He keeps secrets," she said, glancing down at Burke the bear.
He nodded, and they sat in silence for a moment, before he finally asked, "Pam, do you want to tell me and you just can't? Or do you really not want to tell me what's going on?"
"I…" she stuttered, looking up at him. "I can't."
"Why?"
"I'm scared," she said softly, and he sighed, looking over at her.
"Why? It's just me," he said, and she looked up at him, her eyes still fearful, nodding. "Whatever it is, I'll still think you're the greatest girl in the world."
She was staring at her knees. "Even after our horrible date tonight?"
"Mmhmm," he said, and they were silent for a moment before he reached his hand out and placed it on her knee. "Tell me, Bees."
She was breathing steadily, so steadily and silent he almost wasn't sure if she was even still with him anymore, or if she'd drifted off to sleep, her breathing was so deep. She barely whispered when she did speak. "I got rejected."
"From what?" he asked, his forehead wrinkled.
"I applied for an art school," she said softly, and he was so immensely proud of her he could hardly contain it, but then he remembered that she was sitting in front of him, obviously broken up about it. "I… You said my stuff was really good, so I just thought I'd try…" she trailed off, shrugging.
"Your stuff is really good," he replied, and she laughed bitterly, shaking her head.
"They rejected me." She repeated the phrase. "I… I shouldn't have believed you… I knew I wasn't good."
"Beesly, you are good," he said, brushing her hair from her eyes. "They're just idiots." She sighed. "Did they tell you why or anything?"
She was looking at her feet, before tears started rolling down her face again. She looked up at him, or rather past him, not quite meeting his eyes. "They said my pieces didn't look professional enough… They said they looked like I did them in my high school art class."
He wrinkled his forehead. "Nobody in my high school ever did art like yours," he said. She sighed, exasperated.
"I think they meant I didn't put enough time into it. It looked choppy or something," she said. He ran his hand over her arms, scooting closer to her on the couch until he was close enough to wrap his arm around her. She nestled into his chest.
"Beesly, just apply to another one. You're too good to give up, and if you need more time to work on your art, let me know. We can postpone our dates, I can come help you and be your muse, anything you need. I'll be here."
"Really?" she asked. He heard her question, but looking in her eyes, he could see it even more vividly.
"Really," he repeated, kissing her forehead. She nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
"I feel so stupid," she said, slight laughter in her voice. "I just… I guess I really thought I'd get in. And then when I didn't… I didn't want to tell you."
"Why?" he asked.
She shrugged lightly, her voice smaller again. "I guess I thought you'd think less of me… stop appreciating my art or something."
He ran his fingers through her hair. "Pam, I'll never think less of you. I think you're phenomenal, even on your worst day." She smiled into his chest. "And I feel confident saying that because now I'm pretty sure I've seen you on your worst day," he cracked.
She laughed, hitting him in the head with her pillow. "You suck."
He smiled. "Man, Beesly, you had me really worried here. I thought somebody died or something."
She smiled weakly. "Just my dreams for a minute there."
"Well, good thing we could resuscitate," he quipped, and she smiled, nodding against his chest. "Okay, so, you keep doing your art. I'll look up some schools in the area too. We'll get you in there, Pam."
She nodded, smiling. "You know what, Jim?"
"What, Pam?" he asked.
She bit her lip, looking down at her hands for a moment before she looked back up at him, talking fast. "There was an opening for an art teacher at Scranton High. I saw it in the paper the other day."
"You should apply," he said quickly. "You'd be great at that. You could go to art school in the summer while the kids are off."
She nodded slowly, "do you think I'd get the job? Honestly?"
"I think you were made for that job," he said, and she smiled. "You're great at teaching people how to do stuff. Remember when you taught Michael how to use post-it notes? He got it right away, which is really something for Michael." She giggled. "And, you taught me how to use the coffee machine on the first day of work," he said, and she smiled. "And, you'd be able to pull pranks on all of the other teachers, which would make you, like, teacher awesome with the students."
She smiled. "Yeah, but I'd get fired."
"Well, then you could just come back to Dunder-Mifflin. Get all of those inappropriate sexual jokes back… Wasting time… Dwight… Angela…." She laughed at him, sitting up in his lap.
"You think I should go for it?" she asked.
"I do," he smiled.
"Okay, then I'm going to go for it," she said, smiling. "And this time I promise I'll let you know, no matter what the outcome is."
"Sounds great," he replied, and she smiled at him. "I'm really proud of you, Pam."
She looked up at him, a quizzical expression on her face. He elaborated, "you're really going after your dreams. I like that. You didn't used to do that."
"I know," she smiled, poking his chest. "Next week, we'll work on finding you some dreams."
"All of a sudden, I really want to be a gym coach at Scranton High," he said, winking at her. She laughed, rolling her eyes. "I hear they're all either gay or hooking up with the art teachers."
"You would be a great gay gym teacher," she teased, and he laughed. She smiled up at him. He smiled back down at her, before she spoke again. "If I get the job, promise me you'll come to all of the kids' art shows, and you'll email me and call me randomly, and we'll spend some Saturdays hanging out."
"Of course," he smiled, patting her head. "When that gym position opens up, though, I might have to reevaluate how much time I can allot for a female friend," he teased her, winking. She smiled, standing to her feet.
"Can I make you dinner?" she asked, and he nodded, happy to have her back to her normal self. "I can make pasta or pasta," she said, shrugging.
"Pasta sounds great," he replied, watching her as she headed into the kitchen. He followed, sitting down at the breakfast nook to continue talking to her.
"Jim?" she asked all of a sudden, and he looked up to meet her gaze. "How did you know I wanted a house with a terrace?"
"You mentioned it to me one day. Something about a book you'd read and how ever since then you'd wanted a terrace outside your window," he replied, and she nodded, slowly. "Do you still want that?"
She smiled for a moment, stirring the pasta in the pan. "You know… for a while, I gave up on wanting that but right now… yeah, I'd say I still want my terrace." He smiled, watching her as she turned back to the pasta. She looked up at him again, "and I'll want a garden, too." She smiled, stirring the pasta more as he thought about what she'd said.
"I want a garden too," he replied, and she reached for the colander.
She emptied the noodles into the colander, shaking it to let the excess water drain out before she carried them back to the stove, emptying them into the pan. She looked at him. "I know you do," she replied softly. "And a terrace."
Okay, so, we've all survived the wrath of bitchy beesly. Sorry to inflict that on you all, I didn't realize she existed, but she does...
Questions I want you guys to answer when reviewing... Along with the whether you liked it, favorite part type stuff...
A) Do we want Pam to get the job?
B) What do we want Jim to do with his life?
C) Where the hell do you think this chapter came from? (I still have no idea)