December 19th, 2001

After she'd broken off her engagement to Roy, it took several weeks for Pam to feel somewhat normal again. She wasn't depressed, or even upset, necessarily, but being on her own — really and truly on her own — was strange and new. She had been living by herself in New York without him, but it still felt like she'd always been depending on Roy, whether it was for his presence (which was sorely lacking), or his love (which she'd gradually begun to doubt). In Pam's case, absence hadn't made the heart grow fonder; it had rendered it inert.

Then there was the strange matter of Jim. She'd be lying to herself if she didn't admit he was the catalyst in the chain of events that led her to believe marrying Roy would be settling for something incomplete. As the months passed, however, what she'd initially interpreted as romantic feelings for Jim turned into something else. It wasn't about Jim specifically - how could it be? They barely knew each other - but about what he represented: a life outside of what she'd boxed herself into, the possibility of something that felt real, even for a moment.

The dollar bill with Jim's phone number had hung there, pinned to Pam's cork board, untouched for months. She'd considered calling him several times, even had gone so far as to punch in a couple of the digits before hanging up. Every time she went over the conversation in her mind, it just felt silly. She had no idea what she would say, and each time she thought about calling him she reminded herself that it was entirely possible he'd felt pressured to give her his number in the first place and had no desire to actually see her. But she also couldn't bring herself to throw it away. And as a result of her only connection to him being on perpetual display in her bedroom, she thought about him more often than she probably would have otherwise.

Eleven months after their last meeting, when she saw Jim standing in the Great Hall of the Met, something clicked inside her heart like pin tumblers in a lock falling rapidly into place. This finally felt right. They were meant to run into each other, meant to be in each other's lives, whether she'd made the decision herself or not.

Are we actually becoming friends now?

She had to admit when she first saw him again, soaked head to toe holding a dripping umbrella and that unforgettable smirk on his face, she'd had more than "friends" in mind. He looked just as good as she remembered (even in his drowned-rat state). Better, actually. And all of those confusing feelings from their brief past had risen up inside her again, as predictably and powerfully as a rolling tide; particularly the crush he'd told her about. But, she rationalized, that crush was long over with. Of course it was. He'd been in a relationship since. And they'd only known each other for a short period of time. It hadn't meant anything, and it was ridiculous to even entertain the idea he might still harbor any feelings for her.

Moreover, when she learned that Jim's relationship had ended so recently, it perplexed her that he didn't seem to be bothered much by it at all. She suspected he hadn't fully processed it. In her own experience, it took months for her to feel somewhat normal again, and even now, almost a year later, she still didn't believe she was quite ready to start dating again. The possibility of jumping into something with Jim then fucking everything up was a very real fear in her mind.

So many emotions were swirling around in her brain when she'd laid eyes on him again, but regardless of what she wanted or didn't want, her primary belief was that, right now, Jim was unavailable. And in a very real way, so was she.

Pam didn't know exactly how her friendship with Jim was going to unfold over the ensuing weeks, but she definitely didn't expect it to ramp up as quickly as it did. It started with lunch, which turned into a long walk. Then there were more lunches, and phone calls that lasted for hours.

She learned he grew up in Pennsylvania but his family had moved to Chicago when he was in high school, and that their schools were actually football rivals but they'd never crossed paths. He loved seafood, ordered his steak medium rare, and drank his coffee black, his previous caffeine embargo apparently lifted. He walked faster than she did, and she found herself pulling on his arm now and then to keep his long strides under control. He preferred the subway to cabs, but would occasionally splurge for a taxi to make sure Pam got home safely at night. (He really was a nice guy. It was one of her favorite things about him.) She didn't know what cologne or aftershave he wore but he smelled the same every day - just Jim - and there was a small chip in his front tooth that made his crooked smile even more adorable.

Soon enough, they were spending practically all of their free time together. She hadn't dated anyone but Roy, really, and that had been a very long time ago, but this felt a lot like dating- only she and Jim both seemed to have drawn an invisible line between "friends" and "more than that" that neither would cross. She couldn't deny the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach any time he turned his head a certain way and smiled, or slid his sleeves up a bit to reveal his forearms, but she tried to tell herself it was because he was cute, that was all. It didn't mean anything more.

Friends, he'd said. She reminded herself daily. Letting her thoughts take her any further could be dangerous.

So… friends were exactly what they'd become. Good friends. And the funny thing about being good friends with Jim was that it truly felt that way from the start. Being with him was like being thrown into the middle of a favorite movie. She felt like she'd known him forever.

Ever since she arrived in New York she'd had a strong desire to make a real connection with someone, but it wasn't until September 11th that she felt this desire morph into a compulsive need. And then suddenly, there was Jim.

Right now, having a good friend felt important. She was happy. And as the days turned into weeks and the leaves fell off the trees, as much as she liked Jim — which was a lot — she began to realize that she enjoyed their friendship so much the way it was that she almost stopped wondering whether or not they'd ever become more.

Almost.

###

"Hey, what are you doing?"

Pam smiled at the familiar voice on the other end of the line, tucking the cordless between her chin and shoulder. It was a Wednesday night, and for about a month now, Wednesday nights were when she and Jim would watch Felicity together; she at her tiny East Village apartment, he at his place in Murray Hill.

"Cleaning up dinner," she answered as she wandered around the kitchen. "Why, what are you doing?"

"Oh, nothing," Jim replied casually. "What did you have?"

Pam picked up the empty Lean Cuisine box that sat on her counter. "Fiesta Chicken. Five stars. You?"

"Grilled cheese."

"Again?"

"Hey, I make a killer grilled cheese."

"I believe you," she said. "It's all you ever make, so you'd have to be pretty proficient at it by now."

"You'll see," he said smugly. "Someday I'll make it for you."

"I can't wait."

"Anyway, I was thinking about what you said earlier and I really think you're wrong."

She frowned. "About what now?"

"That Die Hard isn't a Christmas movie."

Pam sighed. This again. "Whether I'm wrong or not, you're never going to get me to change my mind on this one, Jim."

"Okay wait, hear me out," he said, and she grinned as she rinsed off her plate and stuck it into the dishwasher. "I know you said that if you remove all of the Christmas elements it still works as a movie, and… yeah, that's a really good point. But, John McClane learns a very... Christmassy lesson by the end."

"And what's that?"

"Family comes first. What screams Christmas more than that?"

"Are you suggesting family isn't important at any other time of the year?" she lobbed back. "Or that any movie where the protagonist learns family is important is suddenly categorized as a Christmas movie?"

"No, what I'm saying is that the Christmas backdrop supports the overall theme of the movie. Ergo…"

"Ooh, an 'ergo,'" she rolled her eyes.

"Consequently? Hence?"

"I like a good hence."

"Hence, it's a Christmas movie."

Pam flicked the lights off in the kitchen and went into her bedroom. Her place was blissfully quiet, as Kelly was apparently out with Mysterious Married Ryan.

"You sound like Roy," she remarked. "Did you all hang out in your frat house and discuss this?"

"Ugh, don't say that," Jim replied, and sounded genuinely offended. "And no, I didn't have many conversations in general with Roy."

The R word had been coming out of her mouth a lot more often lately, Pam had noticed. She hadn't missed Roy much but with the holidays approaching she felt a very specific kind of loneliness on the horizon. It wasn't quite the same as last year; the breakup had been terribly fresh and the only person she really had to comfort her was Kelly. But this year, she had Jim. She had high hopes her holiday season would be much brighter.

"Christmas movies are about Christmas, and there's a certain feeling you get when you watch a Christmas movie," Pam explained.

"Exactly," Jim replied. "It's that warm and fuzzy feeling I get watching Alan Rickman fall off a building in glorious slow-mo."

Pam rolled her eyes again. "Well, maybe it's subjective but at the end of the day, it's my opinion and I'm sticking to it."

She clicked on the television and glanced at the clock: she had about two minutes before the show would start. Pressing the speakerphone button and tossing the phone onto her bed, she went to her dresser, removing her favorite flannel pajamas.

"I guess we'll have to agree to disagree on this one, Beesly," Jim's tinny voice filled the bedroom, but even through the phone she could tell he was smiling.

"Guess so."

She began undressing, throwing her clothes into her laundry hamper, and pulling on her pajama pants.

"You sound far away now, what are you doing?" Jim asked after a few seconds.

"Um. I'm changing, hang on a sec."

She removed her sweater, then her bra, and while she'd done this before with Jim on the phone, she realized it was the first time he was actually aware she was doing it. He remained quiet and waited, exactly what she'd requested, but the sudden intimacy of being near-naked while in the middle of a conversation with him wasn't lost on her. As quickly as possible she threw on her top, buttoned it and walked back over to the phone, picking it up.

"Sorry about that," she said, switching the speakerphone off. "I'm back."

"Well now I have to know what took so long," Jim said.

"There were a lot of buttons."

"What, pray tell, could require so many buttons?"

Pam smiled. "Are you asking me what I'm wearing? Because it sounds like you're asking me what I'm wearing."

"What are you wearing, Beesly?"

His voice had dropped a bit, giving it a slightly husky tone. She felt herself blush, wondering as usual if he was just messing around or not. Every time their conversation dipped its toe into flirty territory she got nervous, and wondered if he felt it too.

"Gray flannel pajamas," she answered, playing along. "The stuff of all men's fantasies, really."

"Definitely have featured in some of mine," he replied. "Sweatpants, too. And sweatshirts, those really big baggy ones."

"Oh, shut up," she laughed. "They're warm and fuzzy and perfect for cold nights like this."

"I'll bet."

"Although these ones are getting a little ratty, to be honest," she mumbled into her collar as she picked off a tiny piece of lint from the dryer.

"Okay, shhhh. Show's starting."

Pam turned the television up and got into bed, situating her pillows all around her so she could cradle the phone next to her head and hear Jim's voice in her ear without having to hold it. They watched together for several minutes, enjoying each other's commentary, laughing and cringing at all the same lines.

"Oh, I love a good running-to-stop-her-at-the-airport story," Jim said about halfway through. "Classic."

"I was getting worried about those two for a second," Pam admitted.

"Felicity and Ben? No way. They're soulmates."

"Soulmates? Wow. You've come so far, Jim."

"What do you mean?" he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

"Well, you didn't always think so. You used to think she should be with Noel."

"When did I say that?"

"On the road from Chicago to New York," she recalled.

"I never said that. I would never say that."

"You did! You said because they were friends they had a stronger connection, or something like that. That passion fades."

He was quiet for a moment.

"You're right," he suddenly said. "I did say that."

"So what changed your mind?"

"I didn't change my mind. Honestly, I just don't really like Noel anymore."

She laughed. "Fair enough."

"He went one way and Ben went the other."

She smiled, and they watched the rest of the show together like usual, laughing at Javier's antics and Meghan's one-liners. When it was over, they usually said goodnight and hung up but for some reason tonight she didn't want to let him go. He didn't either, it seemed, and it was another twenty minutes (and her entire bedtime routine later) before she started to yawn.

Pam walked over to the window and pulled her curtains aside. The streets were dark and fairly still. "Do you think it will start snowing this year by Christmas?"

"I read the other day that this has been the warmest December in New York on record. So I'm not holding my breath."

"This sucks," she declared. She reached up to yank down the blinds, struggling with them as she spoke. "I had all these ideas of what it would be like in New York at Christmastime and for two years in a row those plans have just been totally ruined."

"What kind of plans?" Jim asked curiously.

She paused. For some reason she didn't want to tell Jim that all of those plans had involved a disinterested Roy. She'd probably hit her R word quota for the day.

"Pam?"

"Yeah, I'm here," she said, finally pulling the blinds down. "Never mind."

"Lots of rain coming up, looks like," Jim mused. "Sorry, I know that doesn't help your plans."

Pam sighed. "Well, we can go to the park and make sludgemen, I guess."

Now it was Jim's turn to be quiet.

"Jim..?" she asked, climbing back into bed. "You there?"

"Yeah, I just… I guess I forgot to tell you, I'm actually going back to Chicago for Christmas."

Pam's heart sank. She wasn't planning to go home this year. It had been presumptuous, but she thought she and Jim would be spending time together for the holidays.

"Oh," she said, trying to hide her disappointment. "When do you leave?"

"On the twenty-first."

Pam closed her eyes. That was two days from now.

"No, yeah, that'll… that'll be good. Family comes first, and all."

"That sludgemen plan sounds fun though," he said, and she could tell he was trying to be positive.

She felt ridiculous for being so disappointed. She would see him in a week. But she'd become so accustomed to his company, she didn't like the idea of being without him. Plus, she had a Christmas present for him and now probably couldn't give it to him before he left.

She'd been quiet for a few seconds and Jim sensed her discouragement. "Pam, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, it's nothing. It's stupid."

"It isn't," he insisted. "What's wrong?"

She sighed, something deep inside her saying it was okay to tell him.

"I don't know… just, there were all these things I wanted to do. I heard they have sleigh rides in Central Park, well, if there's snow. And there's the ice skating rink in Rockefeller Center, which I know I could still do, it just… wouldn't be as much fun alone. And New Year's Eve was just so depressing last year."

Jim was quiet for a second.

"Honestly, Jim, it's not a big deal. I really don't mean to bring everything down. I'm just bummed that my best friend isn't going to be around for the holidays, that's all."

She'd never said he was her best friend aloud before, and for a moment she worried she'd overstepped. But it was the truth. And even though it had only been a few weeks, she was pretty sure he considered her his best friend too.

"I'm really sorry, Pam. I guess I just assumed you were going to see your family too."

She didn't want to make Jim feel bad for doing something as perfectly reasonable as going home for the holidays, so she adjusted her attitude quickly. "It's seriously okay. Kelly will be here. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"I'll be back in time for New Year's," he said encouragingly.

"You will?"

"Yeah."

She smiled. "Well, I probably won't see you before you leave, so have a safe trip, okay?"

"Thanks. I'll talk to you soon."

"Okay."

There was a lingering silence, and she still didn't want to say goodbye to him.

"Merry Christmas, Pam," he said.

"Merry Christmas, Jim."

She hung up the phone, looking around her empty bedroom, and her eyes landed on the phone number stuck to her bulletin board, the one she used daily now, the one she knew by heart. Next to it was a vertical photo strip from a photo booth: her and Jim smiling, laughing, making crazy faces. They'd gotten it at the arcade around the corner from his place last week.

Pam sighed, that same dreaded feeling of loneliness creeping up on her again. She wondered what her plans would be for Christmas this year. For the first time in her entire life, she considered renting Die Hard.

###

"What do you think?" Holly Flax asked the next day, showing Pam around the newest installation at the Met. It was a collection of photographs, ancient petroglyphs and sculptures from Easter Island.

"Looks amazing," Pam said, gesturing to an enormous moai statue. "This one right at the entrance is really striking."

"I didn't really know a whole lot about this subject when this exhibit was announced," Holly admitted. "But it's actually pretty fascinating. I spent about four hours last night researching the Rapa Nui and their history."

"Wow," Pam said. "And they're not even paying you for that."

"Thrilling, right?" Holly smiled. She shook her head. "God, I need a social life again, don't I?"

Holly had broken up with her boyfriend fairly recently. It had also been somewhat of a long-term relationship, so she and Pam had a mutual bond, except Holly seemed far more eager to start up something new than Pam was.

Pam shrugged. "I don't know, I'm sort of enjoying the single life."

"It's been long enough, hasn't it?" Holly asked. "What's stopping you from getting back out there?"

Pam opened her mouth and closed it. She didn't know how to admit to Holly there was actually only one guy she was interested in; one guy who had pretty clearly defined their relationship as platonic.

"I'm pacing myself," she said instead.

"You're still so young," Holly said with a smile. "You should be out having fun, seeing people."

"I see people," Pam said defensively.

Between Holly and Kelly, Pam preferred Holly's more calming presence, but she was a few years older than Pam, and she saw her as more of a mentor than a friend. As a result, Pam didn't necessarily confide in her much.

Just then, her walkie beeped. "Pam Beesly, there's a Jim Halpert here to see you."

Pam's brow creased in confusion. She didn't have any plans with Jim today.

"Jim?" Holly asked with a smile, intrigued. "Who's that? Have you been holding out on me?"

"He's just a friend," Pam assured her. She checked her watch. "I'm off in five, I'll just tell him to wait."

"Go ahead," Holly said. "It's fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, we're just about done here. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thanks," Pam said, and headed downstairs.

When she got to the front desk, Jim was leaning against it with his arms crossed, grinning at her.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Everything's great," he said. "I knew your shift was over and I was trying to catch you before you left."

"Why, what's up?"

Jim shrugged. "I just want to spend my last night with you, and I had some fun stuff planned. If you don't have any prior engagements, that is."

She smiled, so happy to see him she couldn't even remember what day it was, let alone if she had any plans she needed to immediately cancel.

"Um, yeah," she said. "I'd love to. Where are we going?"

They began to walk towards the exit, and he held open the front door for her. "Well… what do you think about going ice skating?"

###

Jim insisted the rink at Central Park was far superior to the one at Rockefeller Center, and Pam rolled with it. She ended up glad she did, because they had a great time wobbling around the huge rink together, snow or no snow.

Afterwards he suggested they go back to his place since he had a Christmas present for her, and while she was unprepared and would have preferred they wait until he got back to exchange gifts, he was rather insistent. Her curiosity got the better of her, and soon enough they found themselves getting off at his subway stop.

Murray Hill wasn't terribly far from Pam's place in the East Village. Jim had been fortunate to live far enough north of Ground Zero to not have been evacuated, but he'd told Pam that he could still sense a very real shift in the air ever since. Despite the changes all around him in the neighboring areas, he enjoyed living there, and Pam could see why: his apartment, while fairly small, had an incredible view across the river.

Jim went into his bedroom and Pam took off her coat, sitting at the counter in his kitchen and looking out his window at the city.

"I still can't believe you live here," she called after him.

"The building manager is a friend of my dad's," Jim called back from the other room. "When he found out I was moving to New York he offered me this place."

Pam heard him rustling around a bit, then he emerged, carrying a large brown bag from Bloomingdale's. He set the bag on the counter in front of Pam.

She narrowed her eyes. "Bloomingdale's? Did you go shopping, Jim?"

"Yes, and I admit this was last minute, but I wanted you to have it before I left."

She reached into the bag and pulled out a wrapped present, slightly larger than a shoebox. "Nice wrapping job, I'm impressed."

"I can't take credit for that," Jim admitted. "I'm hopeless."

She chuckled as she tore open the wrapping, and when she opened the box, nestled between some tissue paper was a set of cerulean blue pajamas. Pam's eyes widened in surprise as she lifted them out of the box. She ran her fingers along the material, which was a soft flannel. The edges were lined with a vibrant magenta piping.

Jim cocked his head, looking a bit anxious. "Do… you like them?"

"I love them," she said, and she meant it.

He looked down at his feet. "You said yours were old, so."

It was such a sweet, thoughtful gift, and she was touched that he always seemed to listen and remember the things she said to him, even if only in passing.

"Thanks," she said.

"You're welcome."

She put the pajamas back into the box and gave him a shy smile. "I guess you'll have to wait for yours." She was grateful she had time to return the Felicity boxed DVD set she'd gotten him in favor of something better.

"Something to look forward to," he grinned, looking at his watch. "Hey, are you hungry?"

"Um, yeah, actually."

"Excellent. I'm gonna make us some grilled cheese."

She laughed. "Don't you have packing to do?"

"Dinner, then I'll kick you out of here, Beesly."

"Deal."

Jim set to work on his culinary masterpiece, explaining that his secret was to use mayo instead of butter on sourdough bread, and to coat the outside with parmesan cheese before cooking it. A couple slices of sharp cheddar, some tomato, and voila. Pam had to admit it looked delicious.

As she set some plates on his counter, she glanced out the window again. "Your view is really great," she remarked. "Mine is basically an alleyway and a couple of dumpsters."

"You should see it from the roof," he said, placing the sandwiches on their plates.

Pam was intrigued. "Can I?"

Jim smiled. "Sure."

They bundled up and managed to carry everything they needed up to the roof. When they pushed open the heavy door, a blast of chilled air slapped her in the face. Pam noticed there were already a few beach chairs strewn around, and the roof was absolutely covered in cigarette butts. But Jim was right; the view was incredible. They could see the Queensboro Bridge a bit up the river, and the Chrysler and Empire State Buildings as well.

"Wow," she breathed, a plume of fog escaping from between her lips. "If I were you, I'd be up here all the time."

Jim dragged a couple of the chairs over. "Well, just be glad it's freezing out tonight and no one else is as crazy as we are," he said. "The amount of secondhand smoke that's usually up here is enough to keep me downstairs."

They sat and ate, Jim's famous grilled cheese exceeding her expectations. They chatted like usual for a while, but suddenly he got a bit quiet, and she noticed.

"You okay?" she asked.

He hesitated, but kept whatever it was close to the vest. "Yeah, I'm good."

Whenever Jim got quiet like this, Pam figured it was about his ex. He rarely talked about Karen, if ever, but she'd picked up on his body language pretty quickly.

"Are you thinking about Karen?" she asked.

He paused, but then nodded. "It's just… I brought her up here once or twice."

Pam was interested but remained silent, as if even a slight movement would scare him into not revealing anything more.

"Her view was better," was all he said.

"I don't know," Pam said softly. "I think yours is pretty great."

Jim smiled at her and sipped his Coke. Neither of them said anything for a minute.

"Do you miss her?" Pam finally asked.

"Not really."

She was dumbfounded. "Not even a little?"

Jim sighed, and looked thoughtful. "You know what I miss? I miss the idea of her. I liked her, and I liked having a girlfriend. Things were pretty lonely before I did."

"But... it just never went further than that?"

He shrugged. "I guess not."

She shook her head, letting out a small scoff. He noticed and suddenly looked a bit defensive.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing, it's just…" she briefly considered chickening out, but she really did want to know why. "You just sound so indifferent about it, Jim. Like what you two had didn't even matter."

Jim sat up a bit. "Wait, I never said it didn't matter. Just because it never got really serious, it doesn't mean I didn't care."

"But you were with her for over a year," Pam said. She didn't want to upset him, so she looked down at her sandwich and prepared to retreat. "Sorry, I know it's not any of my business. I guess I'm just a little sensitive to that after spending eight years with someone who didn't turn out to be the right person."

He looked at her for a moment, regarding her closely. Jim wasn't anything like Roy, and she knew that. She shouldn't have been internalizing his hangups. But she couldn't help but wonder how long he might have stayed with Karen if she hadn't ended it herself.

"You said something to me on our road trip, do you remember?" he asked softly. "You said it was obvious I hadn't been in love before."

Pam blanched a bit, feeling slightly ashamed. "Yeah, I don't know why I said that. I didn't even know you."

"Well, exactly," he said. "You didn't even know me but you were right. Somehow it was like you saw right through me."

She looked over at him, trying to make sense of all this.

"And… I don't know why, or how, but the entire time I was with Karen I just… didn't feel it either. I can't explain it. I'm just telling you the truth."

"But you stayed with her for so long," Pam said. "If it didn't feel right, why didn't you end it sooner?"

Jim sighed. "I don't know. Because… maybe it didn't feel perfect, but it felt good enough."

She stared at him, wanting more.

"And sometimes when you're lonely you do stupid things, I guess," he added quietly.

Pam nodded, the mystery of Jim beginning to unravel.

"How did you know? With Roy?" he asked. "How did you know it was right?"

She scoffed again. "Well, obviously it wasn't."

"But it was enough," he pressed. "It was enough for you to say yes."

She tried to remember how she felt when Roy proposed to her. She thought she was in love, and she believed it was true for years. But the fact that she was here without him was the loudest truth of all.

"It was just a feeling," she said. "Like what I said last night, about Christmas movies, it's kind of the same thing. I can't describe it. But when you know, you know."

She looked at Jim. And I guess I was right from the start- you don't know because you haven't felt it yet.

The unarticulated thought sat in her chest like a stone. When she wasn't actively wondering whether Jim had feelings for her, things were fine. Things were actually great. But anytime something reminded her he did not, she felt it acutely.

They sat in the dark chill, a weighty silence hanging all around them. He tapped softly on the edge of his soda can and she sipped hers. Eventually the cold did them in, and they gathered the remnants of their dinner and made their way back downstairs. When Pam contemplated taking her coat off, she figured it was probably best to leave it on and head out, letting Jim get ready for his trip.

"I think I'll take off," she said.

"You sure?" Jim asked. "You can stay if you want."

She smiled, relieved they were both trying to brush past the loaded conversation. "Thanks, but I should get home. It's been a long day."

"A good day, I hope?"

"Yes," she assured him. "A really good day."

He picked up the box containing her Christmas gift and put it back into the brown bag, holding it out to her. "Don't forget your present."

She took it and he walked her to the door.

"Thanks again," she said, lifting the bag up a bit. "It's awesome."

"No problem."

"And for everything," she continued. "I had a really great time tonight."

"I'm glad," he grinned. "I'm sorry I won't be around for Christmas, but hopefully this was better than nothing."

They looked at each other for a moment, then Jim stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. She hugged him back, her cheek pressed into his coat, which was still cold from the roof.

"Have a good Christmas," he said, his voice muffled against her hair. "I hope Santa brings you something good."

"You too." Her heart pounded and she was thankful her incredibly puffy jacket concealed it.

She held him for longer than she probably should, longer than was reasonable, but it felt so good her mind drifted to a place she didn't want it to. She wanted to know what it was like to kiss him. If she still believed in Santa, it would be the only thing on her list.

She knew she couldn't have that, and tried to shake the thought from her mind. But she did have his arms around her, and she had his present. She closed her eyes, imagining putting the pajamas on; wrapping herself up in something he gave her. Maybe whenever she put them on, she would think of this moment. It wouldn't be the same as having him next to her, but it was the next best thing.

Better than nothing.