The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New Year's Eve
Pam stood in the Great Hall of the Met, waiting for Jim. Twinkling lights filled the room, stretching from one side to the other above her like an enormous constellation. Christmas was over but the room still felt like a winter wonderland even though no snow had touched the city yet this season.
She fiddled nervously with the buttons of her coat, shifting her weight from one ridiculous high heel to another. Her feet already hurt and she didn't know what to do with her hands.
It wasn't a date, she kept reminding herself. She'd been on so many non-dates with Jim she wasn't exactly sure why she was nervous. But this felt like a date. He was essentially her plus one for a work function, and everything just felt so… fancy. He'd never even seen her wearing a dress before.
Soon enough he arrived, entering the museum through the front door. His hair looked a bit unsettled from the wind, and he reached up to fix it, spotting her as he did, the corner of his mouth turning up in his familiar smirk. It wasn't raining, and he wasn't carrying a dripping umbrella, but she couldn't help but be transported back to that moment several weeks ago when she'd spotted him across the hall and her life took a new turn.
"Sorry I'm late, the subway broke down," he said, slightly out of breath. "Luckily only for a few minutes."
"That's okay. I decided to fork over the money for a cab." She pointed down to her strappy heels. "These boots definitely aren't made for walking."
They stepped over to the coat check and after depositing their outerwear, she noticed Jim taking in what she was wearing. It was a deep burgundy A-line cocktail dress that stopped just above her knees.
His eyes roamed down her figure, and she was surprised at how differently it felt to have Jim looking at her this way than her date from the other night. He was staring. Gaping, actually, while at the same time valiantly attempting to avert his eyes from her slightly-more-plunging-than-usual neckline. She couldn't deny she liked it.
"What happened to subtle, Halpert?" she asked him playfully.
"I'm sorry, it's just… wow," he said. "You look great."
She smiled shyly. "Thanks."
"I've never seen you out of your Keds. You clean up nice, Beesly," he grinned.
She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, which was half-up, pulled back with gentle curls. She appreciated his compliment but she'd always had a difficult time accepting them. After eight years with Roy, from whom she couldn't remember the last time she'd received a compliment, she almost didn't know how to react when she got them.
"You look nice, too," she said to him, which he really did. He was wearing a charcoal suit with a black button-down shirt she'd never seen him wear before, complete with a bright red tie. She pointed to it. "Very festive."
He grabbed the tie and fidgeted with it as he spoke. "I planned to wear it on Christmas, but forgot to pack it. And now here we are. And I don't know why I told you that."
She giggled. "We sort of match, actually."
"You're right. How adorable are we?"
"Very."
They looked at each other for a moment, another one of those loaded silences that made her wonder what he looked like underneath his clothes. She cleared her throat, shaking off that errant thought.
"Want to go get a drink?" she asked.
"Yes please." He gestured for her to lead the way and he followed closely behind her.
They reached the bar and she ordered two champagnes. Jim sipped his, looking around the room, then leaned in closely. "Do you know any of these people?"
Pam searched the room for a familiar face, but it was mostly museum members and patrons. "Not a one," she grinned. "But whatever. I just came for the free booze."
"Only reason I came too," he replied. She elbowed him playfully, and they walked over to an empty bar table, staking their claim.
"Ooh, I've met that guy," Pam said, pointing. "Toby. He's in human resources."
"How do you know him?"
Toby was standing in line at the buffet about twenty yards away from them, looking awkwardly at the ceiling. "I don't, really. But he made me fill out my start forms three times."
Jim looked skeptical. "Hmm."
"What? He said it was a clerical error."
"Clerical error or huge, obvious crush?"
Pam made a face. "Oh, come on. No way."
"No way? More like one hundred percent yes."
"You think so?" She looked across the hall at the unassuming human resources rep. "Nah."
"You always underestimate yourself." He looked at her for a moment, then his eyes quickly returned to scan the room.
"He's kind of cute, I guess," she said, her eyes never leaving Jim. Toby wasn't really her type, but she was more interested in why Jim would suggest she was Toby's.
She sipped her champagne, looking around the hall at their surroundings. For a while she and Jim simply people-watched, making wry observations to one another, in their own little world. The dance music changed from Prince's 1999 to Britney Spears' Baby One More Time to TLC's Waterfalls.
"Do you think this DJ graduated in the same class that we did?" she asked him.
"It's a safe assumption." He eyed the dance floor, then Pam. "You... want to dance?"
She felt her cheeks flush with impending embarrassment and looked down at the tiny silver 2002s scattered all over the table. She picked one up, turning it over with her fingers. "No way, I'm such a dorky dancer."
"Well, now I have to see it."
"No, you really don't."
"Come on," he laughed. "It can't be as bad as mine."
"You want to bet?"
"I would love to bet," he grinned, and every time he smiled at her like that she thought she might just do anything he asked. "And the winner gets… what?"
"Nothing, other than more embarrassed, I'd imagine," she said.
He nodded thoughtfully. "How about the title of Dorkiest Dancer, henceforth."
"You know how much I like a good hence."
He laughed. "Alright. Show me what you got, Beesly."
The song changed to YMCA, as if the universe (or the DJ) were more invested in this bet than anyone. Pam downed the last of her champagne and grabbed him by the wrist, dragging him after her. She started moving to the music, a little shyly at first, but when Jim started dancing wildly, jumping up and down, waving his arms around and widening his eyes like a crazy person, she burst out laughing.
"Come on, you can do better than that," he shouted over the music.
She pushed herself as far as she could go, which was sufficiently dorky, but Jim seemed intent on winning. In any event, she was having so much fun that it took her a second to realize Jim was focusing on something over her left shoulder. Suddenly he halted his spastic dancing, the color draining completely from his face.
"Oh my god," he said, fixated on whatever it was behind her.
"What?" Pam asked, and began to turn her head to look.
"No, don't!" He moved close to her, putting a hand on her shoulder, leaning in to explain. "It's Karen."
Karen.
All of the fun they were having completely swept out of the building. Pam felt a different kind of feeling flooding her body now, one of equal parts dread and curiosity. She'd never even seen a picture of Jim's ex, and now they might be about to come face to face.
"I can't look?"
Jim was trying as hard as he could not to look uncomfortable, and was failing miserably. He grabbed Pam gently by her shoulders, spinning her around a bit until he had his back to Karen.
"Just… dark hair, black dress," he hissed under his breath.
Pam now had an unobstructed view of the infamous Karen. Whenever she'd imagined this phantom woman Jim used to date, Pam had assumed she'd be attractive. Jim was, so how could she not be? But Karen wasn't just attractive. She was absolutely stunning. She was wearing a tight black cocktail dress, very obviously designer, that hugged all of her curves in the right places. She looked mature and elegant in what Pam suspected were most likely Chanel and Manolo Blahniks, and she immediately felt self-conscious about her own appearance and her twenty dollar heels.
This is Jim's ex? This total knockout?
Pam wasn't a person who typically fixated on her looks, or the looks of other women, but she couldn't help an overwhelming feeling of inadequacy standing in the same room as Karen.
Pam wondered why Jim was so flustered by seeing her, considering they'd presumably been working together for some time after the breakup. "When was the last time you saw her?"
"A few weeks ago, but I thought she transferred to the Utica branch in November."
Karen stood just off the dance floor at a nearby table, talking with a handsome older man with silvery hair and a silk handkerchief in his breast pocket.
"Is that the ex-boyfriend?" Pam asked.
"I don't know. I never met him."
"He looks like one of those Enron guys," she remarked.
"Why is she here?" Jim seemed a bit off-kilter, and for someone who had always seemed so nonchalant about his breakup, was clearly being affected by the presence of his ex. "Should we leave? I think we should leave."
"I'm serious, I think I saw him on the news!" Pam said, squinting at the man.
"Pam!" Jim was tugging on her arm, pulling her off the dance floor, but it was too late. Karen had clearly spotted him.
"Jim, we can't just run away. She's coming over to talk to you."
Karen was indeed now striding over towards them, her arm looped through the Enron guy's arm, a martini glass in her other hand. Pam could feel nervous energy radiating off Jim, and an audible groan sounded from his throat as Karen came closer.
"Jim, hello," Karen said.
"Oh, hi," he said casually. "How are you?"
"Doing good, actually," she replied. There was a softness in her eyes Pam hadn't expected, and she remembered what Jim had told her Karen had been through after 9/11. "How have you been?"
"Fine," Jim managed.
Karen glanced curiously at Pam. The four of them stared at each other for several long seconds.
"This is Joe," Karen finally said, gesturing to her date. "Joe, this is Jim." She turned to her date to explain. "We used to go out."
The man stuck his hand out and Jim shook it stiffly, but said nothing. Pam was worried he might have actually swallowed his tongue.
"Joe is a Friend of the Met donor," Karen said. "He's always invited to these parties. It's classy, don't you think?"
"It is," Pam finally said. She stepped forward and extended her hand, concluding that Jim wasn't going to introduce her. "Hi, I'm Pam."
"Oh, it's nice to meet you." Karen shook Pam's hand.
"I'm a project manager here," Pam said. "I assist the curators."
Karen looked impressed. "That sounds amazing, what a cool job!"
"It is really cool," Pam parroted back. She could still sense tension in Jim's body, which surprised her. Perhaps he wasn't as indifferent to his breakup as he'd been letting on, after all.
"Jim never liked going to museums when we were together," Karen noted, narrowing her eyes. Pam felt Jim loop his hand around her waist and pull her back, closer to him. She wondered if he was trying to give off the illusion they were a couple, or if he was simply trying to use her as some kind of physical barrier between himself and his ex-girlfriend.
"He's… um, coming around," Pam said simply. She didn't know what else to say. Also, the feel of Jim's fingers against her hip bone was making it hard to stay focused.
"You two looked like you were having fun out there," Karen then said, gesturing at the dance floor. Pam was mortified remembering their dance-off, and felt her cheeks flush at the realization that this gorgeous, put-together woman had seen her at peak dork. She bit her lip and offered Karen a polite smile that held no mirth, her dislike for the woman growing by the second. Jim still didn't say anything at all.
An unplugged version of Champagne Supernova started up, echoing inside the enormous Great Hall. Pam, seizing an opportunity to rescue him from this interaction, grabbed Jim's hand from her waist and began tugging him away.
"Ooh, I really love this song," she said to Jim. "It was really nice to meet you both. Bye."
Jim mumbled a goodbye and allowed Pam to drag him away from a slightly unsettled Karen. She led him out onto the dance floor and put her arms around his neck, keeping his back to his ex. Over his shoulder she could see Karen eyeing them over her dirty martini.
"What was all that about?" she asked Jim, who she could (thankfully) begin to feel relaxing, the tension in his shoulders ebbing beneath her touch.
"I'm sorry, it was just… weird to see her here, I guess. I wasn't expecting it."
"I understand," she replied. They spun around lazily, and he glanced behind her, probably trying to keep an eye on Karen.
Pam wanted to say the right thing. "It's okay, you know. To feel a little unbalanced, running into an ex."
"I know. I'm not made of stone," he said a bit defensively.
"I never thought you were," she said quietly, and she really hoped she hadn't ever made him feel like she did. His behavior regarding Karen had indeed been erratic, and even somewhat inconsistent over the past several weeks, but it only further confirmed her prior belief that he still hadn't properly processed the breakup. Nothing else made sense to her.
Jim shook his head. "I can't believe she saw me dancing like that."
Pam couldn't help but notice his unspoken meaning: that it had been perfectly okay for her to have seen him at his absolute dorkiest. She felt a jolt inside her, a reaction to the very distinct difference there was in the way he acted around her, as opposed to the way he wanted to portray himself in front of someone to whom he had a romantic attachment.
"Well, she's still watching us," Pam said, having spun back around to see Karen and her martini again. "Here's your opportunity to show her you can dance like a normal human being."
"You mean someone not in need of an exorcism?" He grinned at her, and she was pleased that he seemed to be returning to his usual joking self again, at least.
"Exactly," she laughed.
"Thanks," he said. "But I'm okay."
"Good. Then forget her. And her stupid Enron Joe."
Jim laughed, and she couldn't remember ever being so relieved to hear it.
Liam Gallagher's crooning echoed around the room, and Jim finally seemed relaxed again. At first he rested his hands at her waist, and they swayed back and forth for a while. It felt sort of like middle school, and her first instinct was to point this out to Jim, maybe share a laugh over how silly it felt. But what stopped her were those very same middle school butterflies; the ones that made moments like these feel so very important, even in seventh grade.
Eventually he pulled her into him a bit tighter. Pam hadn't been this close to him all night, and was just now realizing how good he smelled. Different, actually, as if he'd put on cologne or something. His eyes kept darting around the room, as if he wasn't sure where he was supposed to look. Every so often they would land on her, and he would smile a bit awkwardly. She wanted to believe he was nervous too, or maybe even having the same butterflies she was, but she found herself reeling it back. She was getting swept up in the romance of the evening, that was all.
Jim is my friend. My best friend. End of story.
"What do these lyrics mean? I never know what these lyrics mean," he asked, out of nowhere. "How do you walk slowly down a hall faster than a cannonball? I always get tripped up on that."
The question left her a bit thrown. "I have no idea."
"It's mostly nonsense, I guess."
She wanted to laugh at his clear attempt to dispel the inherently romantic mood, but knowing that was what he was doing only furthered her belief he was probably uncomfortable. She wanted to find the whole thing amusing but she couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment.
"So who won the dance-off, after all?" he asked. "I don't think you were giving it your full effort."
She laughed. "You don't want to see my full effort, trust me."
"Well, your half-effort was very cute."
Cute. Again, she knew he meant it as a compliment but it was a compliment she didn't know what to do with.
The song was coming to a close, echoing around the hall.
"How many special people change?
How many lives are living strange?"
His hands slid up her back a bit, and he was bending down slightly, leaning in so that his mouth was next to her ear. She couldn't see his face anymore, but he also couldn't see hers, and for a moment she forgot herself; closing her eyes, letting her cheek brush against his. It was so soft, as if he'd just shaved this evening. For a few seconds, there was no new year approaching, and time seemed to stop. All she wanted was to let him hold her, suspended in this moment as long as possible.
"You know, you deserve someone who likes everything about you, Jim," she said softly into his ear. "Even your dancing."
She could sense his hesitation, feel his gentle breathing against her face. "Oh yeah?"
He pulled away from her slowly, his eyes softening, looking right at her. He held her gaze for several seconds, smiling in his familiar way, but there was something unfamiliar in the air now. She could sense the mood shifting between them, that thing that happened from time to time that made her want to grab him by his tie and pull his lips against hers, hard.
Suddenly his smile disappeared. He looked very serious, like he was about to speak, and his mouth opened slightly, hanging there on the edge of… something. His pupils darted down to her mouth, and for a moment, just a millisecond, she was genuinely convinced he might kiss her. She felt her entire body tense with anticipation, wanting it to happen so badly she could hardly breathe, but at the same time she was terrified.
Did she really want them to change?
She wasn't sure what her own face looked like, if any of her conflict was registering to Jim, but then he leaned back, the look in his eyes shifting almost imperceptibly.
"You want to go get some air?" he asked.
As suddenly as the moment had arrived, it passed. She nodded, feeling incredibly disappointed and somehow relieved in equal measure.
They exited the building as a crowd of people inside began chanting the inevitable countdown to the new year, and stopped at the top of the steps just as they reached "one" and began cheering wildly. It was officially 2002. Outside her periphery, she could see couples around them cheering, hugging, and kissing. Pam and Jim stood facing each other, the mood from inside still clinging to them like perfume.
You wanna? he said with his eyes.
Sure, hers said in reply.
And before she even knew what was happening, Jim leaned down and pressed his lips to hers in a brief, chaste kiss.
"Happy New Year, Beesly," he said quietly against her lips. She couldn't see him because she'd closed her eyes involuntarily when he'd kissed her. But when she opened them, she saw her favorite face in the world grinning back at her.
"Happy New Year," she replied.
The mood dissipated, and they both leaned in to give each other a hug. As he held her she remembered how she spent last New Year's: at home, having just broken up with Roy, feeling incredibly lonely.
She wasn't entirely sure how to feel. But one thing she did know was that kissing Jim seemed like a great way to kick off the new year.
###
Pam took her heels off once inside her building and continued barefoot all the way up to her apartment, closing the door behind her. It was quiet inside, and at first she assumed Kelly was either already asleep or still out partying. But to her surprise, she found her roommate on the couch, huddled underneath a blanket, crying softly.
"Kelly, what's wrong?"
Pam hurried over to her, tossing her shoes to the floor and kneeling down next to her.
"Nothing." Kelly sat up, trying to put on a brave face.
"Are you okay? What happened?"
Kelly's face crumpled and a fresh wave of tears began as she recounted the tale of her evening, which had begun with Married Ryan at some party, and concluded with him ditching her an hour before the new year to go meet his wife.
"Pam, he's never going to leave her!" she cried.
Pam had still never actually met Ryan, but she'd heard enough to know that Kelly deserved better. Married men never left their wives, that wasn't the way these stories went. But she also knew Kelly didn't want to hear that right now.
"Kelly…" Pam said gently. "I really hate telling you this, but I think you need to end this relationship. You should find someone who respects you. Someone who loves you and actually wants to be with you."
"You're right, you're right," Kelly sobbed. "I know you're right… I just love him so much! It's frustrating, because, like, we'd be so perfect together."
Pam sighed. "Sometimes the people we like just don't like us back, Kelly. And it sucks."
Kelly nodded. For a moment she was quiet, just dabbing at her eyes with a well worn tissue, and Pam thought she might have actually gotten through to her. Then, turning on a dime, Kelly blinked a couple times, looking at Pam's dress.
"Pam, where have you been tonight? You look straight up hot."
Pam looked down at herself. "Thanks. I was at a work party."
"With who?"
"With Jim."
"Jim?" Kelly feigned confusion. "Oh right, your 'friend' Jim." She made air quotes with her fingers.
"Cut it out, he is my friend."
"I don't dress up like that for my friends."
"It's New Year's Eve, Kelly. We were at the Met. What was I supposed to have worn?" She didn't want to tell Kelly she'd actually tried on every single dress in her closet and, after finding nothing sufficient, had taken an extra long lunch break to go shopping.
Kelly narrowed her eyes, then reached out towards her shoulder, sticking a finger underneath Pam's black bra strap. She then sat back on the couch, crossing her arms.
"Show me your underwear."
Pam blinked. "What?"
"You heard me, Pamela Beesly. Show me your damn panties right now."
"No!" Pam replied indignantly. "And what exactly is your point?"
"My point is you're totally wearing black lacy underwear, to match your black lacy bra, which totally means you'd hoped there was a chance someone else might see it."
Pam's jaw dropped, gobsmacked. "That's… I…" she sputtered.
"I rest my case."
"He's my best friend," Pam said lamely.
Kelly made a face. "I thought I was your best friend."
"Well," Pam hedged, "he's... my other best friend." She didn't really know how to respond, still reeling over Kelly's impressively shrewd Operation Matching Lingerie takedown.
"Whatever, Pam," Kelly said. "You look hot. And I'm sure Jim thought so too."
Pam shook her head. "I seriously doubt it. You should have seen his ex-girlfriend. I'm not even in his league."
"First of all, yes you are," Kelly said immediately, and Pam felt a warmth towards her that was rare but very genuine. "Second, you met his ex? Oh my god!"
"She was at the party. With her new boyfriend, who looked exactly like Michael Douglas, I might add."
Kelly leaned forward, eyes wide. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god."
There were definitely limits to what Kelly could add to the conversation at any given moment.
"Anyway, it doesn't matter. We're just friends." Pam realized she'd now said the same thing about four times.
Kelly looked at her, no doubt picking up the lady doth protest too much vibe. "You are into him, Pam. Just admit it."
Pam was silent, unsure of what to say.
"You can tell me, you know," Kelly said. "I am your best friend."
Pam sighed. Kelly hadn't exactly proven herself to be the best listener over the past couple of years, but she had been there for her during her breakup. Maybe telling someone the truth - that she was most definitely having more-than-friendly feelings for her best friend - would help her work through some of her confusion.
"It doesn't matter how I feel about him," she said, resigned. "He obviously doesn't feel the same way. So I'm trying not to think about it."
Kelly looked very annoyed. "Didn't he tell you he had a total crush on you back when you first met?"
"Yeah, but that was three years ago," Pam sighed. She tried not to think about 1999 Jim, because 2002 Jim clearly wasn't interested in taking things any further. The fact that they were so entrenched in the current state of their friendship only proved to her that the crush, or whatever it was, hadn't been that serious in the first place. "Besides, I don't think he's even really over his ex yet, despite what he tells me."
"I don't get it," Kelly said. "You guys are soooo perfect for each other. Every time I see you hanging out I want to take both of your heads and knock them together."
Pam laughed. "Well, how do you really feel?"
"I think you should tell him you like him."
"No," Pam shook her head. "No way."
"Why not?"
"Because if he rejects me, which I have every reason to believe he would, how could we come back from that? I don't want to lose him."
Kelly considered this. "And… there's no chance he likes you too?"
"Sometimes I think he might, you know? Just by the way he'll look at me, or like… something he'll say, or do. But nothing ever comes of it, so I just have to tell myself I'm imagining things." She looked over at her friend. "Right?"
Kelly nodded, looking very thoughtful. "You know what this reminds me of? Bridget Jones."
Of course it does. Pam gave her roommate a tiny smile. "How so?"
"Well, it's like… Jim is Mark Darcy, and you're Bridget, and I'm Shazzer. And this is the part where I tell you," Kelly switched into a terrible Cockney accent, "there 'ave been all these bloody hints and everything, but 'as he ever actually stuck his fucking tongue down your fucking throat?"
"Not once," Pam laughed, playing along. "Although we did sort of kiss tonight."
"What?!"
"Calm down, it was just a stupid New Year's kiss. Barely a peck. It was nothing."
"It's not nothing. That is so. Cute."
"Can we stop talking about this now?" Pam asked.
"Only when you admit you like him."
She sighed. "I like him. Okay? If he were open to more, I would definitely be interested. But it just seems like if that was what he wanted, it would have happened by now. And it just keeps… not happening."
Kelly looked thoughtful, then her eyes lit up like an actual lightbulb had turned on above her head. "You know what you need? A girls night."
"You think?"
"Let's go out!" Kelly squealed. "Next weekend. Maybe you should get some distance, you know? See what else is out there."
She didn't really want to see what else was out there. The idea of spending time with men that were not Jim didn't appeal to her at all right now. But maybe Kelly was right. Maybe she needed to try to forget this. The further she let herself fall for her best friend, the harder the impact would inevitably be.
Pam said goodnight to Kelly, went into her bedroom and stripped off the dress that she knew was, whatever her roommate had to say about it, inferior to Karen's in every way. She changed into her favorite new pajamas, went into the bathroom and washed off her makeup. She climbed into bed and tried not to think about how good Jim looked tonight, how good he smelled, how it felt when he touched her waist.
How it felt to touch her lips to his, even for a moment.
She tried not to imagine a scenario in which Jim could ever see her as more than just a friend. But as she lay in bed, warm and cozy in the pajamas he'd given to her, she found that impossible.
