They were dancing, her arms around his neck and his fingers curled around her waist. He pulled her even closer, pressing his cheek against hers, so that she couldn't see him disappear into his most intimate secret; couldn't see him quietly breathing in the scent of her hair and closing his eyes. Holding Pam like this effectively banished every single thought of Karen from his mind.
"You deserve someone who likes everything about you, Jim," Pam said quietly into his ear. "Even your dancing."
He was falling head over heels for her, more and more with every passing second. Now was the moment. Now had to be the moment.
He looked into her eyes, green and bright. They were always seeing everything, perceiving his every thought except the ones he reserved for her. She didn't seem to believe him when he told her how incredible she looked. It was as if she was her own blind spot. He wanted her to know how amazing she was, how beautiful she was; how she too deserves someone who loves every single part of her.
Someone like him.
He wanted to tell her this so badly he felt it start in his toes, rising up through his body like a stirring volcano: up, up, up, until he felt like he couldn't keep it inside anymore.
And then he choked.
###
January 4th, 2002
Jim stood at the bar of The Palm with Michael, who ordered them each a beer. It had been a couple of days since New Year's Eve, and he and Pam hadn't seen each other since they'd shared a cab home after the party and he'd dropped her off at her apartment, completely uneventfully.
He sighed heavily, remembering how close he'd been to confessing his feelings. Looking into Pam's eyes had left him feeling so vulnerable, so afraid she didn't feel the same way, that he'd completely chickened out.
They'd shared a kiss, which was something, but small consolation. And it had done nothing to communicate what he wanted to tell her - after all, there was nothing necessarily significant about two best friends planting one on each other on New Year's.
He'd been incredibly disappointed ever since he left her that night, a bitter start to 2002. Michael's mood, on the other hand, seemed relentlessly positive as he raised his glass, and Jim begrudgingly toasted him.
"I'm glad we're finally doing this. Guy's night! Let's hear it for the boys!" Michael's smile faded at Jim's blank stare. "Bette Midler, Jim."
"Yeah," Jim said, his own tone slightly downtrodden.
Michael proceeded to take an enormous swig of his drink. "What crawled up your butt?" he asked, his mouth half full of beer.
Jim didn't really want to talk about it. Instead he decided to shake it off. "Nothing, man. You're right, it's good to be out."
"To a new year!" Michael said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "To new friends, new leafs, and… new… lovers!"
Jim chuckled, always entertained by Michael's ability to commit so earnestly to every ridiculous thought that entered his head. At least the man had a talent for distraction. Maybe his antics could keep Jim's mind off Pam, if only for one night.
As they waited for their table, they chatted about the Giants, who had fallen way behind the Eagles, and their perpetual disagreement over how unfunny Todd Packer was. Then Michael's expression changed dramatically as he spotted someone across the bar.
"Jim. Psst. Bogey at eleven o'clock," he whispered over the brim of his glass.
Jim raised an eyebrow. He slowly turned around to see whoever Michael was looking at, and when he did, he was surprised to see Pam at the opposite end of the bar.
Of course. He should have known that, despite the insurmountable odds of it happening, the moment he began having a pleasant Pamless evening she would inevitably appear.
"Michael, that's Pam." He had absolutely no qualms about breaking it to Michael that Pam would definitely not be one of his "new lovers" of 2002.
"I didn't know Pam was a blonde," Michael said.
"She isn't, she's-" he spun around again, noticing that Pam was accompanied by Holly and Kelly. Pam caught his eye and waved, and he waved back. He turned again to Michael. "Oh, the blonde is Holly. Pam's friend."
"Holly," Michael repeated dreamily. "She's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on."
"They work together at the museum."
"Oh god, a museum? How boring, yuck."
Jim nodded encouragingly. "Perfect. I'd open with that."
He picked up his beer and began to step away from the bar. Michael looked terrified.
"Wait, are we going over there?"
"Sure, why not?" Jim replied. "I'm sure they'll call our table soon anyway."
"Okay, wow. Okay." Michael took a deep breath and adjusted his tie, straightening his suit. They had both come directly from the office and were still dressed that way. "I forgot to bring my hat, Jim. Should I cab it back to my apartment and get it?"
Jim was torn between knowing that idea was ridiculous and wanting Michael to do exactly that for his own amusement. "Date Mike" was certainly a sight to behold. But Holly was Pam's friend, and he didn't want to traumatize the poor woman.
"No, you got this, buddy." Jim clapped Michael on the shoulder, and turned to walk over to Pam and her friends.
"Hey, stranger!" Pam greeted him as they approached. She stepped forward and he pulled her into a hug.
"Of all the steak joints in all the towns in all the world," he smirked as he let go, and she flashed his favorite smile. Michael cleared his throat expectantly.
"This is Michael," Jim said, gesturing to him. "He works with me at Dunder Mifflin."
Michael put on his best 'seductive' face. "Ladies."
Pam, who had surely heard enough from Jim about Michael to size him up instantly, gave him a little wave. "Nice to meet you, I'm Pam. That's Kelly," she gestured to Kelly, who had a cell phone pressed to her ear, not listening to anything and looking slightly annoyed, "...and this is Holly."
"The lute guy," Holly smiled, looking at Jim. "Nice to put a voice to the face, by the way."
"Yeah, I'm… really sorry about that," Jim said, scratching the back of his neck.
"Did you get a chance to see the Baroque piece? Or the Byzantine?"
Jim looked slightly abashed. "Um… we were just playing a game, actually. I had to… be really quiet."
"Oh," Holly laughed. "That makes more sense. I was going to say I don't think I've ever met anyone so fascinated by a Renaissance lute before."
"No idea what I was looking at," he admitted with a grin.
She laughed. "If it makes you feel any better, I still haven't seen every piece in the Met."
"I've been to the Met," Michael interjected, his impatience at not being the center of attention quite evident. "But it was just to use the bathroom."
Holly looked at Michael. "I understand, a lot of people probably only remember it from their childhood."
"Oh no, this was last year."
Holly raised an eyebrow. "Oh."
Jim's eyes darted over to Pam, bracing himself for this to turn as awkward as he'd anticipated.
"What do you do, Michael?" Holly asked. Jim couldn't tell if she was actually interested or simply being polite.
"I sell paper," he said proudly. "I'm a traveling salesman."
"You mean like door to door?" she asked.
"Well, not really. To clients, not to customers directly."
"I see."
"That would sort of be like the Girl Scouts."
Holly nodded. "I guess it would."
"We don't hire Girl Scouts. Child labor laws, and everything."
Jim knew Michael was being absolutely serious, but Holly seemed to think he was kidding and found his joke humorous enough to laugh. Kelly, who had her back turned to everyone, spun around, hanging up her phone and addressing Pam.
"Oh my god, Pam, I am so sorry but I have to go."
"What? Why?" Pam asked. "Don't tell me you're bailing on us for him."
"He totally needs me, Pam, he ran out of cash and can't get home."
"Why doesn't he call his wife?" Pam asked, clearly irked. Jim was intrigued.
"Are you kidding? She'd be totally pissed. He's at a strip club," Kelly said, as if this were the most normal situation in the world. "Rain check, okay? Byeeeeeee!"
Pam watched Kelly flounce out of the restaurant, then turned to Jim, annoyed. "So much for Girls' Night."
"What was that all about?" Jim asked her. Michael and Holly, engrossed in their own conversation, hadn't even noticed Kelly's departure.
Pam let out a disgusted sigh. "I keep telling her she shouldn't be dating a married man, but she doesn't listen to me."
Holly was laughing at something Michael had said, and Jim turned just in time to catch her sipping from her Cosmopolitan, accidentally spilling a bit as she laughed.
"Oops, I'm such a mess," she said, setting the glass down on the bar, reaching for a napkin.
Michael put on a loud, affected voice. "Your glass is defective! It's springing a leak!"
Holly looked confused for a second, then immediately caught on. "Hey Harry!" she said, in the same crazy voice. "What's the matter with these cans?"
Michael cracked up. "He hates these cans!"
"Stay away from the cans!" Holly squealed. She laughed, then spoke in her normal voice again. "I love that movie!"
"Me too!" Michael replied. Jim, who had no idea what they were talking about, looked over at Pam, who shrugged. Michael glared at both of them. "The Jerk. Steve Martin? Come on!"
Holly shook her head, and in the same crazy voice, said with disapproval: "Neophites, all of youse."
Michael turned back to her. "Jim never gets my movie references."
"Can't take him anywhere, huh?"
"I'm actually writing my own movie," Michael then said, and Holly looked impressed.
"Kelly, party of three?" A hostess with heavy dark eye makeup wandered over to them. "Your table is ready."
To Jim's very great shock and bewilderment, Holly looked reluctant to leave Michael behind. She turned to him. "Would you two like to join us for dinner?" she asked Michael directly, not acknowledging Jim or Pam in any way.
"We would absolutely love to," Michael replied, his eyes never leaving hers.
Pam looked at Jim, her eyes betraying her own confusion at this very strange turn of events. Holly turned to the hostess.
"We actually have a party of four, would that be alright?"
"It's fine," the hostess said, looking either bored or stoned. "Follow me."
Michael gallantly gestured for Holly to lead the way. As they walked to their table he turned around and, with as much discretion as Michael was capable of, gave Jim two very enthusiastic thumbs up. Jim returned the gesture and when Michael spun back around, Jim looked at Pam, who shrugged, still completely befuddled. They all sat down around the table, Michael pulling a chair out for Holly. He took one next to her, presumably so that he could gaze into her eyes all evening, and Pam took the seat on her other side.
"Has anyone eaten here before?" Pam asked, looking at her menu. "What's good?"
"I've been a couple times," Jim said, leaving out the tiny detail that he'd been here with Karen.
"It looks like there's actually another one of these restaurants in Hollywood," Michael said, perusing the back of his menu. He eyed Holly with a huge, stupid grin on his face. "I'm sure you've been to Hollywood."
Oh my god, Jim thought, inwardly groaning. But Holly inexplicably continued to hang upon Michael's every word.
"Nice," Holly said, beaming. "I've never heard that one before."
They gazed at each other completely unabashedly, and the most infuriating part of all of it was how clearly they were both into each other in a very decidedly non-platonic way. After meeting no more than twenty minutes ago. As much as he didn't want to be, Jim found himself profoundly jealous of his friend.
"Anyway…" Jim said, trying to keep the evening from turning into a one-man-(bad)-comedy show courtesy of Michael Scott. "The oysters are good, although I know they're not for everyone."
Pam shrugged. "I've never actually had them before."
"I've heard oysters are a major aphrodisiac," Holly offered.
Michael started giggling uncontrollably, and Holly smirked behind her menu.
Jim looked at Pam, who was watching their interaction with great amusement. Every so often she glanced over to Jim with her familiar are you seeing this too? expression.
After a few minutes they ordered their food and resumed what, for all intents and purposes, was turning out to be the strangest non-double date Jim had ever found himself on. Their oysters arrived pretty quickly, and after watching Pam struggle with eating one, Jim grinned at her.
"Having a little trouble there, Beesly?"
She sighed. "It's just... really slippery and it keeps falling out."
Holly, who was working diligently at removing her oyster from the shell with a tiny fork, let out a small chuckle. "That's what she said," she muttered under her breath.
The table grew silent, and Pam and Jim stared at Holly in bewildered astonishment. Michael, on the other hand, absolutely giddy, as if his dream woman had just dropped down from heaven. It was at this precise moment Jim knew they were probably in for a long evening.
Holly looked up, her face pink. "Oh man, did I just say that out loud?"
Pam attempted to stifle a laugh at this side of Holly she clearly hadn't seen before. Even Jim couldn't recall actually hearing that particular joke from anyone other than Michael, at least not since his frat days. The waitress came by to fill up everyone's water glasses, and an untimely silence hung over the table as Pam and Jim looked at each other, wide eyed, barely controlling their laughter.
"Would you like another beer, sir?" the waitress asked Michael. He was still looking at Holly with an expression of wide-eyed wonder on his face.
"Michael," Jim said gently. Nothing. "Michael!" Jim snapped his fingers in front of Michael's face to get him to focus, which he finally did, turning to the waitress and indicating that, yes, he would indeed like another beer.
"I am going to go wash up," Pam suddenly said, standing. She looked at Jim pointedly. "I will be right back."
She laid her napkin on her chair and turned, her hair swishing behind her, heading to the back of the restaurant towards the bathrooms. Jim, assuming she wanted to talk to him, waited a minute or so, and then begged off as well (as if Holly and Michael would have even noticed his absence). There was an anteroom that led back to the bathrooms, and as Jim rounded the corner, Pam grabbed his arm and pulled him behind the wall partition.
"What the hell have we gotten ourselves into, here?" she asked him, trying not to laugh.
Jim shook his head. "I have never seen Michael like this. He's actually killing it with her."
They peered around the wall together, Pam's head just below his. "I've never seen her this way before either," Pam said. "It's like... she's under his spell."
"Michael Scott," Jim said, shaking his head in wonder. "Who knew?"
Michael was now performing some kind of magic trick for Holly involving a quarter and a fake dove, which he pulled out of his pocket.
"Does he just… keep that in his pocket all the time?" Pam asked, giggling.
"Pam, you never know when you're going to have to perform an emergency magic trick. It's good to be prepared."
Her giggle turned into her laugh, which was his favorite sound in the world, and they stood there together just watching their friends for a couple of minutes. Observing Michael working literal magic on Holly was not the worst thing in the world, but Jim was far more cognizant of the way Pam was pressed up against him. Because of her height and their proximity to each other, her back was sort of nestled against his chest, and he could smell her shampoo, a scent that had become so familiar to him over the preceding weeks. Maybe it was pathetic - it probably was - but every opportunity he had to be close to her was one he didn't want to let go.
After witnessing the food arrive and Michael beginning to feed Holly bites of his pasta, Jim reluctantly suggested they return to the table. Michael and Holly were still talking to each other, but they glanced at both Jim and Pam, then each other, as they sat down.
"Welcome back, you two," Holly said. Jim thought she said it rather suggestively, but maybe he was just imagining it.
"What are you guys talking about?" Pam said.
"Oh, I was just telling Michael how I haven't been to a steakhouse in forever," Holly said. "My ex was a vegan."
Michael scoffed. "He sounds like a complete stupid idiot."
"Michael, come on," Jim said.
"Not because he's a vegan, Jim, because he broke up with Holly," Michael explained, like duh.
"Aww, that's so sweet," Holly replied. Jim took a deep breath and rolled his eyes at the ceiling, taking a sip of his beer.
"Maybe we should ask Pam and Jim," Holly said. "Let them weigh in."
"Ooh, on what?" Pam asked, leaning forward.
"Well, Michael here says that the third date is traditionally when you're supposed to have sex," Holly said.
Jim nearly choked on his drink.
"Yeah, what do you think, Jimbo?" Michael asked.
All three of them looked at him curiously, particularly Pam. This wasn't a topic the two of them had discussed in their hundreds of conversations over the past several weeks. He wasn't sure how to tailor his answer to be as neutral as possible, so he just told the truth.
"Yeah, I guess that sounds about right."
"You see?" Holly said immediately, turning to Michael. "Told you."
Pam sat back into her seat, looking relieved no one had asked her, and Jim suspected it was because she hadn't really been on the dating scene much at all. But there was something else on her face he couldn't figure out. He looked back down at his surf and turf, but he could feel her eyes on him.
The rest of the meal went well, other than Michael and Holly making Jim and Pam uncomfortable with their over-the-top googly eyes and the way they kept scooting their chairs closer and closer to each other. Eventually their dinner concluded, and it was clear Michael and Holly had no interest in parting. Michael suggested they all go down the street to a bar to continue their evening, and Jim shrugged, looking over at Pam, neither of them having any other plans anyway. He secretly hoped that maybe he and Pam could break away from their heart-eyed friends for a while and just hang out together.
Luckily, that was precisely what happened. As soon as they entered the bar, Michael and Holly found a tiny booth in the corner and began making out rather aggressively, giving Jim and Pam the opportunity to leave them behind and sit at the bar on their own.
"Well, this evening certainly didn't go the way I'd envisioned it," Jim said, having to practically yell to be heard over the music. The bartender set down Pam's mojito and his beer.
"Me neither." She took a sip, then looked at Jim. "What exactly does a typical night with Michael entail? I have to know."
"It's a lot of the same, just with less… sexual energy."
"Really?"
"That's a lie," he admitted. "There's just as much sexual energy, it's just nice to see it directed at someone other than myself."
She laughed. "Does he have an off button?"
"I've never found it."
Pam pursed her lips together and nodded. "Well, whatever it is, it's working on Holly," she observed wryly, gesturing at them. "This was supposed to be a girls' night, not Girls Gone Wild."
Jim turned to sneak another peek at the lovebirds, who now appeared to be practically undressing each other in the booth. He shook his head incredulously, then felt Pam's hand on his wrist, which made him turn back towards her.
"Hey, I never thanked you for coming to the party with me," she said.
He smiled. "You don't have to thank me. I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else."
She took her hand off his arm to pick up her drink. "Last year was… tough, you know. Because of Roy." She looked down into her glass and swirled it around a bit with the tiny straw. "It was just nice not to be lonely this year."
He couldn't have agreed with her more, and it occurred to him as she said this that he never felt less lonely than when he was with her. Something about that was, quite frankly, magical.
"Anytime, Beesly," he said with a gentle smile. He held his glass up, and she raised her own. "To the worst Guys' Night ever."
She laughed. "And to the worst Girls' Night."
They clinked their glasses, and she took a sip of hers. He tried really hard not to notice how pretty she looked tonight: her hair was curled more than usual, and she wore nice jeans and a sweater that hugged her curves a bit more closely than day wear. Her makeup was different too, almost like she'd put a little more on than usual.
"So tell me more about this guy Kelly is seeing," Jim said.
Pam looked disgusted. "Yeah, she's been seeing him for months. I keep telling her he's never going to leave his wife for her, that she should just move on."
"But she won't?"
"She says she's in love with him." Pam shrugged. "What do I say to that?"
Jim considered this. He was just about to ask Pam more when she glanced past him, looking slightly alarmed. "Oh god, where did they go?"
Jim turned around and, sure enough, Michael and Holly had vacated their booth. He scanned the room for them with no luck, but he did notice a small line forming outside the bathroom.
"Do you think…?" she asked.
"Actually, I do."
"Ew. Ew, ew, ew," she said, but she was laughing.
He turned back to her with an exaggerated grimace. "Wow, I'm really going to get an earful Monday at work, aren't I?"
"So much for that third date rule," she remarked.
"Sex in a bar bathroom is definitely a romantic story for the grandkids."
"Please don't tell your grandkids any sex stories, Jim," she said. "That's disturbing."
"You're right," he chuckled. "Still, bathroom sex. It's definitely… a choice."
"Something about that is kind of hot, though," Pam mused. Her eyes had gone a little unfocused, staring at the bathroom as if she were really deep in her thoughts. "Just... wanting someone so badly you can't keep your hands off them. You can't even make it out of the bar."
Jim felt prickles on the back of his neck, that fantasy of slamming Pam up against the wall of his apartment and kissing her with reckless abandon forcing its way into his mind whether he'd asked it to or not. His lips against her skin, her hands sliding underneath his shirt…
"...Yeah," he said, staring at her mouth. She still had her eyes on the bathroom door. He wondered what she was thinking about.
"Anyway," she said, taking another sip, seemingly snapping out of whatever it was. "God, I need a boyfriend."
Jim shifted a bit, trying to refocus on something else, anything else. "Any… prospects on that front?" he asked instead. Idiot.
"No, but I'm seriously considering that guy right there," she said, pointing over his shoulder. Jim turned to look at a man dressed in a silver tuxedo, dancing his heart out to Waiting For Tonight.
"I don't think you're his type, Pam," Jim smiled. "But to be fair, J-Lo isn't his type either."
"You're right," she sighed. "The good ones are never straight."
"Easy, now."
"Not you, Jim. You're the nicest guy I know."
He shrugged. "It has to count for something, right?"
They continued talking for several minutes. He was having fun with Pam, of course, but all he really wanted to do was go home, preferably with her. The music was giving him a headache.
"Hey!" Michael suddenly popped up behind them like some kind of crazed Whac-A-Mole, which disappointingly interrupted the really nice flow they'd gotten going. "It's really hot in here, isn't it?"
"No," Jim said, Michael's unruly hair and sweaty forehead not escaping his notice. "It isn't, actually. Where have you been, Michael?"
Michael was beaming from ear to ear, and burst out giggling. He looked positively euphoric.
"You didn't take any… um, candy from any strangers, did you?" Jim asked.
"No," Michael replied, slightly confused.
"Just making sure."
"Where is Holly?" Pam asked him.
"She's still in the bathroom. I mean… she went to the bathroom." Michael looked at Jim. "I need to go get some air, can you come outside with me, Jim?"
"Um, sure." Jim picked up his coat, shrugging at Pam. "I'll be right back. Are you okay by yourself until Holly gets here?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks."
Jim nodded at her, and turned to follow Michael outside.
The cold air felt really good on his face as they pushed the heavy bar door open, and Jim realized he was probably warmer than he'd realized. Pam's earlier musings about fast and dirty bathroom sex probably had something to do with it.
"Well, it seems like you and Holly are getting along," Jim said with a smile. They walked a few steps away from the front door, standing next to some construction scaffolding.
Michael smiled, a really big smile, and let out an excited breath. "Who knew I would find a living, breathing angel from heaven right here in Tribeca?"
"I'm happy for you, man." And despite that persistent underlying jealousy, he really was.
"She's amazing. She reminds me of those dolls, what am I thinking of?"
Jim shook his head. "I really have no idea."
"The ones that stack up inside each other, with the painted faces. She reminds me of those, with her creamy skin and her big eyes. I'm gonna tell her."
"You really, really should not," Jim said, slightly horrified.
"I think… Jim, I think I'm in love with her."
Jim's eyebrows leapt skyward. "What?"
"I'm going to bring her two dozen red roses in the morning, and when she comes to her door, I'm going to declare my love."
"Wow. Okay. Well, you can't do that, Michael. You know that, right?"
Michael looked genuinely confused. "Why not?"
Jim sighed. "Michael-"
"A matryoshka!" Michael suddenly blurted, looking triumphant, as though he had solved an impossible problem. "The doll is called a matryoshka. My god, that was bugging me. Matryoshka. Matryoshka. You know when you say a word over and over and it stops sounding like a word?"
"Please stop."
"Maybe I should write her a love letter and put it inside a matryoshka."
Jim rolled his eyes. "Michael, you do not love Holly. You just met her."
Michael grinned broadly. "This feels a lot like love to me, Jim."
"And how do you know that?"
There was a faraway look in Michael's eyes. "Because… it feels like she's wrapping my heart into a cozy warm blanket... and at the same time, squeezing my crotch with a handmade mitten... and I just want to scream out my love from the rooftops so everyone can hear me, because I am the happiest I have ever been in my entire life."
Jim stared at him. "Okay. Well, that's really sweet, but I think keeping it to yourself for now is probably your best play."
Michael scoffed. "Right, Jim. And end up in your situation? Blech."
Jim blinked. "What are you talking about?"
"You and Pam," Michael rolled his eyes. "Come on. You're completely in love with her."
Jim felt the very real weight of his secret being out and in someone else's mouth. His first reaction was flight. "Don't be ridiculous."
Michael scoffed. "Oh yeah, I'm the one who's ridiculous."
Jim was completely taken off guard. Was he really that obvious?
"How many times do I have to tell you," Jim said, exasperated. "We're just friends."
"I get it," Michael said. "And you're so deep in the friend zone now that you don't know how to change that. Am I right?"
Jim gawked at him. Michael Scott had never been more perceptive in the entire time they'd known each other. It irritated him to admit it, even to himself, but the truth was that the longer he and Pam did this "just friends" thing, the harder it was to seriously consider crossing that line into something more. Being Pam's friend wasn't the bad part… it was the just. Because every time he thought about that just, every time he thought about her having something more with someone else, it made his guts twist. He was starting to hate that word, just.
Jim stood there staring at Michael, feeling extremely exposed and slightly defensive. He didn't know what to say, how much to reveal.
"You can tell me, you know," Michael said. "I'm not an idiot. I saw the way you looked at her tonight."
Jim shoved his hands into his pockets. "Fine. Okay? Fine. Maybe I do have feelings for her."
"Then you should tell her," Michael said. "You should tell her right now, the way I plan to tell Holly."
Suddenly Jim was angry, and frustrated with himself. Mostly because Michael was right. He should just tell her. He should have just asked her out from the start, but he hadn't, and he couldn't change that. But it all just felt so much more difficult now.
"It's not that simple," Jim protested. "I mean… the way our friendship began, it was just so unusual. And now so much time has passed."
"Well, what have you been waiting for?"
Jim threw his hands up. "It's always been something! First she was engaged, then I was with Karen."
Michael stared at him. "That's really the reason? You've both been single for a while, right?"
Jim sighed. "No, that's not the reason."
He looked down at the sidewalk. He could rationalize all of the reasons he didn't ask Pam out months ago, why he hadn't yet told her how he felt. He could make up excuse after excuse, argument after argument. But at the end of the day he knew that none of those reasons mattered. The truth was much, much simpler. And it was perhaps the unkindest truth of all.
"The reason is that I'm terrified, okay?"
Michael looked at him sympathetically.
"It just feels like every time I might want to ask her out..." he trailed off, frustrated. "I'm just not sure she likes me that way at all, and if I say something now, it could ruin everything we have."
"And… are you okay with what you have?"
Jim thought about this. Yes, he had feelings for her that transcended friendship. But if revealing those feelings meant losing her completely, did he want to risk that?
"I'd be lying if I said I don't love what we have, because I do. Our friendship means the world to me, and if she wasn't in my life anymore, I'd just… I'd be devastated," he said. "But I do want more. I think about her all the time, Michael. When I go to sleep, when I wake up. When I'm with her, when I'm not with her. I'm tearing myself up about it." Jim's brain was on overdrive. Michael just listened, which was rare and welcome. "I just… I don't know what to do."
Jim stared out at the street, his breath visible in front of him in short plumes. He had his back turned to Michael and couldn't see him, but he could sense his presence, and it was an odd comfort.
"I don't know either," Michael said. "And maybe you're right, when you said that the usual rules don't apply here. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't tell her how you feel."
Jim tilted his head back, looking up at the night sky. He closed his eyes and contemplated this: actually telling Pam how he felt. How would she react? The possibility he'd make things weird and ruin everything loomed large in his mind like a dire omen.
"I don't want to lose her."
Michael nodded. "Well, you might. I guess that's the chance you're taking. But if you wait much longer, she's going to move on. And then you'll definitely lose her." Michael looked at him quite seriously. "In case you didn't notice, Pam is pretty hot."
"Believe me, I noticed," Jim grumbled.
A couple of people passed by them on the sidewalk, holding hands. Jim felt a pang deep inside, and he knew that whatever this was, it was not going to just miraculously go away. He needed to deal with it. He needed to put it out there, see which way it would go, because he couldn't carry on in this agonizing limbo anymore.
"It seems to me like you guys have something special," Michael said. He kicked at a patch of dirt on the sidewalk. "I wish I had someone to have inside jokes with."
Jim smiled. "Maybe you'll have one with Holly."
Michael looked up, as if only considering this for the first time. "Hey, maybe I will."
They smiled at each other. "Anyway, you're right," Jim said. "Maybe I should just ask Pam out."
"That's the spirit!" Michael said. "Go do it right now!"
Right now?
"Really, right now?"
"Jim, you've waited long enough," Michael stated, and it was the truest statement he'd ever uttered.
Jim looked at his friend gratefully, seizing the opportunity to share a rare genuine moment with him. True to form, however, Michael didn't let it linger. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a condom, tossing it to Jim.
"Here you go. Just in case."
###
Michael headed back inside to find Holly, and Jim took a detour to the restroom. He'd never been more nervous in his life. His palms were sweating, for fuck's sake.
He turned on the sink and splashed some water on his face, looking at himself in the mirror. He didn't look half bad tonight; underneath his coat he had on a blue collared shirt, and his hair looked okay. He was still wearing his tie, which felt like it was suffocating him, so he loosened it a bit.
He faced the mirror directly.
"Hey Pam, can I talk to you for a sec?"
He cleared his throat.
"Pam, I've been thinking a lot about some stuff lately, and, well, the thing is… that I really like you, you know. Like more than a friend."
That sounds so stupid.
"Hey Pam, are you free tomorrow night for dinner?"
How the hell was he supposed to do this? They always had dinner together anyway.
A stall door opened just then, and an older guy with short gray hair and wide eyes came out. He walked up to the sink and began washing his hands, then turned to Jim.
"This gal," he said. His left eye twitched. "Is she into you?"
The man was staring at him so intensely, Jim was unnerved. He turned behind him to see if the guy was talking to someone else, but only the two of them were in the bathroom.
"Um… I'm not sure," he said, confused.
"No small talk. Show her who's the boss. Just walk right up and kiss her."
Jim nodded slowly, but said nothing because he had no idea how to respond.
"Have I ever steered you wrong, Morty?"
Jim blinked. "Uh…"
The man clapped him on the side of his shoulder. "Sayonara, my friend."
The man pulled out a pair of earbuds, put them into his ears, and just as mysteriously as he arrived, he was gone.
Jim must have stared after the odd guy for several long seconds before shaking his head and returning to the task at hand. He gripped the edge of the sink, trying to get as psyched up as he possibly could. He stood up and straightened his coat, patting the pocket, where he could feel the outline of the condom Michael had tossed to him. Who knows? Maybe it would bring him luck.
You can do this, Halpert.
Jim exited the bathroom and made a beeline for the bar, but when he saw Pam sitting there he stopped, hanging back. He watched her for a moment, sipping her drink, tucking her hair behind her ear in that way she did, and let his mind wander. If he asked her out and everything went wrong, this could be the last time he ever got to look at her. Just contemplating that possibility made him ache.
But what if everything goes right?
What if she says yes?
He let himself imagine, just for a moment, what his life would be like if Pam actually said yes. Everything would be the same as it was right now, only there would be no more secrets, no more confusion. He wouldn't have to hold anything back from her ever again. And he could hold her, and kiss her, and everything between them would finally be right.
Not just right. It would be perfect.
He was done imagining. He was ready to make this a reality.
Jim took one final deep breath and began to make his way over to her, then stopped in his tracks. A man was approaching Pam, talking to Pam. Smiling at Pam. The guy was handsome, almost comically so, with perfect hair and a flashy smile. Jim watched as the guy leaned on the bar, signaling to the bartender for two drinks. Pam was smiling back at him.
And then, to Jim's horror, Pam was laughing.
Some fucking guy was making Pam laugh, that same laugh she always laughed when she was with him.
Jim felt his heart sink into his stomach, all of his previous confidence completely shattered. He'd waited too long, just like Michael had warned him. Something like this was bound to happen.
Michael stepped up next to him just then. "Well, are you going to- oh."
Jim ground his teeth. Thirty seconds. He'd been thirty seconds too late.
"Is that… Danny Cordray?" Michael asked.
"Who?"
"It is! He works for Osprey Paper! Ugh, he's one of our biggest competitors. And I heard he used to be a model."
"A model? Are you kidding me?" Jim had no idea who this guy was, he just knew that he hated him.
Michael shook his head. "That bastard. First he steals Steve Nash, now he's stealing Pam."
Jim glared at Michael.
"Sorry," Michael replied. "I'm sorry, Jim."
The greatest salesman-slash-male-model in the city, apparently, was now sitting down next to Pam. Jim felt his fists clench.
Holly appeared from the direction of the bar. "Hey, what's going on?"
"Pam is getting hit on by a really hot guy," Michael explained. "You should go over there and rescue her," he then suggested to Holly.
"Oh, I don't think she needs any rescuing," Holly remarked, and Jim felt even worse, knowing she was right. He couldn't be upset at Holly. She had no idea how he felt about Pam.
"You think that guy is good looking?" Michael said, turning to her.
"Well, sure," Holly said. "But he's not my type. I prefer funny guys. Specifically ones who can do magic."
Michael beamed, and Holly took his hand. Jim couldn't muster up an iota of warmth for them right now.
"Well, I'm getting pretty tired," Holly said. "I think I'm going to head out."
"Do you want to go back to my place?" Michael asked quietly, but not quietly enough.
Holly nodded at him slowly. "Hell yeah." Michael immediately started giggling, and she leaned in to whisper something into his ear, which made him giggle even harder.
Holly then addressed Jim. "Hey, you're sticking around, right? Will you make sure Pam gets home safe?"
Jim found himself nodding, even though he had no idea how to navigate the possibility of Pam going home with someone else. He felt his dinner sloshing around in his stomach.
Holly told Michael she'd go get a cab, and disappeared. Jim turned back to watch the scene at the bar. Danny was sitting closer to Pam now, far too close. And she was still smiling. He wanted to throw up.
"You should still talk to her, Jim," Michael said. "Tell her how you feel before it's too late."
Too late.
"And what if it's already too late, Michael?"
Michael gave his friend one last sympathetic look. "Never, ever, ever give up," he said. Then he departed.
Jim considered his advice. He wanted to go over to Pam, to take her by the hand and make her listen to him. To tell her she didn't want that perfect, handsome, funny salesman. Why would she want that one when she could have... a less perfect, handsome and funny salesman?
He couldn't watch the scene unfolding anymore; couldn't watch Pam lean towards this guy and laugh at his jokes. But he also didn't want to leave her there alone with some stranger in a potentially dangerous situation. He didn't know what to do. What he did know is that the room seemed to be spinning, the music was too loud, the lights were too much.
He wasn't sure exactly how long he stood there watching them, but eventually he found himself back outside, wandering around the corner into an alleyway. He felt so alone, so dejected, he hardly noticed the secondhand smoke he usually detested swirling around his head from the nearby smokers.
"Hey," came a voice from a few feet away. He looked up and saw a small group of people smoking, the young woman who had addressed him standing next to them without a cigarette. It was dark, and he couldn't make out too much detail, but from what he could see she was about his age, with red hair and a huge faux fur coat.
She walked over to him and smiled. "Are you okay?"
He was slightly taken aback, wondering just how upset he looked. "Yeah, I'm fine," he stammered. "Just had to get out of there. Get some fresh air."
She laughed, waving away a cloud of smoke. "This isn't really the place for that."
"Yeah, I just noticed that."
"Come on." She took his arm and led him back out onto the sidewalk, around the corner, until they were far enough away from the smokers for the smell to no longer be so pervasive.
"You look really sad," she said. "Bad night?"
He scoffed and raised his eyebrows a little bit. "Yeah, I guess."
"Want to talk about it?"
"Not really."
She nodded. They were under a streetlamp now and he could see her face a bit better. She was very attractive, maybe even too attractive. Not someone he'd expect to give him the time of day.
"I'm Katy," she said. She put her hands in her pockets.
He managed a small smile, wishing he was in a better headspace to give her his proper attention. "Jim."
"So, Jim, what's with the tie?" she asked with a smile.
He looked at his tie, held it out in front of him. "I uh, came from work. No good?"
She shrugged. "Not really what I'd expect to see at this kind of place on a Friday night."
"Well, I'm not usually in this kind of place."
"And you're here tonight because…?" she prompted.
"Here with some friends. Just had to get away for a minute."
She nodded. He could tell she was studying his expression, and he was well aware he was still reeling from how he'd felt mere minutes ago; he knew it was plastered all over his face.
"What happened, some girl break your heart?" she asked.
He laughed again, looking at the ground. "Maybe."
She stepped closer, and gave him the kind of look that was impossible to misinterpret. Sometimes, with some girls, this stuff was easy, he reminded himself. She reached out and took his tie in her hand, playing with it a little bit.
"Well, you know what they say is the best way to get over someone," she said in a quiet, seductive voice. And then, very suddenly, she was kissing him. Not aggressively, or even assertively. Softly, her lips slightly parted, just enough to let him know exactly what her intentions were. And he kissed her back, because it felt so good to be wanted by someone, even though she wasn't the person he wanted.
He let her kiss him long enough to wonder exactly where this was headed, and even though his most primal instincts were telling him all the things he did not want to hear, he knew he was in no shape to take this any further with some stranger he literally met in an alleyway outside a bar. Before his body started to publicly betray him, he pulled back from her kiss. Her eyes were closed and she was smiling.
"You're a good kisser," she said. "Whoever she is, she doesn't know what she's missing."
He cleared his throat and felt his cheeks flush, the reality of what had just happened crashing around him like firecracker fallout. "Um, thanks," he said. "So are you."
She smiled in a coy way that didn't feel rehearsed, more like she was just really naturally talented at this whole seduction thing. He found himself wanting her in spite of all the other thoughts and confused emotions running through his mind, but not now. Not like this.
Her companions from the alleyway appeared and called out to her. Katy stepped back from him and laughed a little. "You're cute. Can I… see you again sometime?"
Yes, his dick told him.
"Yes," his mouth said.
She took a pen out of her purse, pulled the cap off with her teeth, and reached for his hand, writing her phone number on his palm.
"See you around, Jim."
He waved, and she smiled at him again, flipping her hair over her shoulder and disappearing down the street with her friends.
Jim stared after her, then looked down at his hand. The numbers stared back at him like a dare, a challenge. If he called Katy, he'd be making an active decision to attempt to move on, to seek something outside of Pam. But maybe that was what he needed to do. She was inside the bar right now doing the exact same thing. And there was strange comfort in the knowledge that, whether he saw Katy again or not, Pam would still be just a phone call away. She would still be part of his life. If he tried to tell her how he felt and she didn't feel the same way, that would no longer be the case.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and headed back inside the bar, hoping that Pam wasn't still talking to Danny Fucking Cordray, but as soon as that thought entered his head he reproached himself. If he planned to move on, he shouldn't be having these jealous thoughts anymore. He should be happy for her, he should be rooting for her to be happy too.
He glanced around, looking for her, with no luck. He walked around the bar searching face after face for her familiar one, getting increasingly panicked that she'd either left without telling him or been abducted or something, when finally he saw her coming out of the bathroom. She looked slightly startled to see him.
"There you are," he said. "Are you ready to go? Because I'm getting sort of tired, and I don't want to leave you here all by yourself."
"I can take care of myself, Jim," she said, a little abruptly.
"I know you can," he said, a bit taken aback. "I'm… sorry, I didn't mean to imply you couldn't."
She looked at him for a moment, then shook her head. "You didn't. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap. I just… I was looking for you, and for Michael or Holly and I didn't see anyone. It freaked me out for a second."
He reached out and grabbed her gently by the shoulder. "You want to get out of here?"
"Yeah."
They headed for the door, out into the night air, and walked to the nearest subway stop. It didn't escape his notice that neither of them had much to say to each other the entire train ride home. He desperately wanted to ask her about Danny, but pursuing that line of questioning would only augment his state of confusion. He didn't know how to broach the subject anyway.
They reached Pam's stop, which Jim always got off at with her to see her home safely. But this time she stood up, fast, and gave him a quick hug.
"You stay put, okay? I'll be fine. It's only a couple blocks."
"Are you sure?" The train was squealing to a halt, and they only had a few seconds.
"Yes."
"Text me when you're home so I know you're okay."
"I will."
The subway doors opened and after a quick wave she bounded out, as if she couldn't get away from him fast enough. He sat back down, wondering if she would call Danny when she got home. He wondered if she would start calling Danny every night instead of him.
Then he told himself it was time to quit wondering.
He was so busy telling himself to quit wondering that he missed his own stop.
