"Jinx," Pam said quickly, wanting to be sure that she said it first. A mischievous smile crawled upon her lips. "You can't talk until you buy me a coke." I began to protest, but she silenced me by putting one finger to my lips. "Nope, no talking. Those are the rules and if you can't follow them…"

I tilted my head and raised my eyebrows, daring her to finish that sentence, but she didn't say a word. Instead, she crossed her arms and grinned, wordlessly challenging me to make the next move. I gave her a shrug, letting her know that I did not intend to let her win this little game.

The nearest vending machines were near the bathrooms at the front end of the park. As I started in that direction, Pam followed, a little bounce in her step, giddy that I had decided to go a long with the game. "So, is there anything you'd really like to talk about?" she teased as we made our way across. Apparently, she had no intentions of backing down either, since she looked determined to get me to speak. "World politics? Literature? How I believe that the dinosaurs will come back and instead of cohabitation, we'll be forced to endure years of violent wars until society is left to starve in caves and fear the day that cross breading begins?"

I chuckled as we walked, though it was going to take more than her saying weird things to get me to speak. I was, however, half tempted to say something anyway, just to see how she would react.

"So, you're not going to talk, huh?" she ragged. I remained speechless, trying not to give her any attention, remaining focused on the vending machine a good fifty feet away. "Well I'm not going to stop talking. I'm going to say every useless fact that I know about everything and expound on it until you crack."

I suppose that was meant as a threat, but I don't think she got that I could listen to her all day long, that I had listened to her all day long and was far from cracking. I took my time walking to the vending machine, partly to see how far she would take this.

"No," she said in a faux-serious voice. "Talking isn't going to do anything. But I could just sing to you." And she did, starting in on the most annoying, off-key version of "Islands in the Stream." She didn't know the words, fumbling with the verse, and she was laughing too much to really make it coherent. If it weren't such blatant mockery, it would be endearing.

I kept my head low, shaking it at the ground, though I couldn't help but let a smile form on my lips. Her attempts were amusing if nothing else. By the time we reached the vending machine, she was laughing so hard that she couldn't even keep up saying silly things.

As I fished for my wallet, she leaned up against the red and white machine. The bathrooms were in a secluded area of the park, only a single, dull yellow light spilled over the tiny paved section we were on. The festival, now winding down, seemed distant, like a fading memory. She smiled widely, the white light from the vending machine making her glow.

I pulled a dollar out of my wallet and simply slipped it in the slot as she watched. I lightly placed my hand over the Coke button, but hesitated, a little sorry to see the game end. "What are you waiting for?" she teased, anxious for her Coke.

I squinted my eyes at her, then looked back at the Coke button and shrugged. Instead of pushing it, my hand wandered down to the Diet Coke button and flashed her a grin.

"Hey," she said, pretending to be offended. She lightly swatted my arm. I bent lower, reaching for the bottom button, which happened to be Peach Iced Tea. She rolled her eyes. "It's gotta be Coke, or you lose," she joked.

Before I could push the button, my cell phone began to buzz. I reached in my pocket and pulled it out, but Pam grabbed it out of my hands before I had the chance to see who it was. "You're still under Jinx," she stated firmly, "so no phone calls." She read the tiny orange screen. "Stanley," she stated aloud. "Maybe I should tell him you are currently unavailable."

My eyes grew wide for a second, as I realized Stanley was probably calling because he was late for his anniversary dinner. But, I figured if she wanted to answer it and get yelled at, it was better than me. I leaned against the side of the vending machine, crossed my arms, and shrugged. It was my turn to see if she'd actually do it.

"Alright," she said, though I could see the hesitancy in her actions. She flipped the phone open and answered in a perfect receptionist-like voice, "Jim Halpert's phone, how may I help you." I could make out Stanley's low, harsh tones coming from the phone. Pam was not expecting this. "No, sir, I'm just a- Yes, he's still here, but he can't come to the phone right now…No, this isn't a prank." There was a pause, as I heard Stanley yelling into the phone and for a moment, I felt bad that I let her answer it. She nodded, quite unsure what to say. At one point, she offered me the phone, but took a step back and shook my head. "I'm so sorry, sir," she said finally. "Alright, I'll tell him, bye."

She sheepishly handed me the phone and I gave her a half smile, letting her know it was alright.

"Um, he wasn't too happy with you," she told me, again leaning against the vending machine. "He said he didn't think that it was funny that you had other people answering your phone and that the game went long and he was late for his dinner. Apparently, it's the last time he'll be covering a game for you."

I nodded, knowing full well that Stanley would only call if he were upset. I titled and shook my head to let her know I was sorry.

She took a deep breath in, "I didn't know you were a sports reporter." She questioned me with her eyes, but grateful that I hadn't yet pushed the Coke button I turned away. "I just think it's odd, you know. We've spent all this time together and I had no idea-" She didn't sound upset, but she didn't sound pleased to hear this information either. "What else aren't you telling me?" she asked, sincerely probing for answers. "I mean, Jim, really, there's no reason you should feel to withhold talking to me. We're friends now, and-" again, she let the sentence die.

She shifted uneasily, waiting for me to speak, but here I was hiding behind the rules of a children's game. Because I wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, and how I've enjoyed every minute of this day because I was with her. I wanted to let her know I was torturing myself inside, trying to ask her out, wanting to hold her hand, wanting to do other things. I stared at her intently, wanting her to see that there was plenty I wasn't telling her. I wanted to show her there was much more hidden behind all the games and the mask for friendship.

I don't know if she didn't understand what I was feeling or if she was choosing to ignore it. Either way, she turned from me, shifting her gaze to the ground. She tapped her foot on the ground for a moment, also deep in thought, but then, just when I thought I should break the jinx anyway, a tiny smile curled on her lips.

"I could use this to my advantage," she said, the teasing tone returning. "So, you're a sports guy," she nodded searching for the right thing to say. "Well, I don't know much about sports, but I do know that Phillies suck." She grinned.

She completely ruined the moment with such a blasphemous statement. In retaliation, I banged on the Coke button, a can came tumbling down and I reached down to retrieve it.

"Aw, you've got nothing to say?"

I held out the can for her, but when she reached for I pulled it away.

"Hey," she said grabbing for the Coke, but I pulled it out of her reach. "That's supposed to be mine," she informed him, laughing as she continued to reach for it.

I smiled at her and shook my head as I cracked open the can and began to drink. The Phillies do not suck, I thought as I enjoyed the beverage.

"Jim!" Pam cried, as I kept moving the drink out of her reach, even as I was consuming it. "Come on, Jim, you're not playing by the rules."

* * *

I did eventually buy her a Coke, but only because I didn't think I could keep up the charade much longer. As much fun as it was to tease her, talking to Pam felt even better, so I gave in and bought her the soda. The only downside was that I was out of excuses. The festival was winding down, only a few stragglers walking up the paths.

"I have to announce that we're closing soon," Pam informed me. I wasn't sure whether that meant I needed to go or that she needed to finish her job before anything else could happen. I nodded silently to her, acknowledging it as just a statement.

I followed her back up to the pavilion, where Angela busily worked at getting all the chairs back on the rack. She glared at Pam and I, pausing her task, as we walked past her. Pam made her announcement, her soft voice floating through the park, reminding everyone that the festival was over for the day. I leaned against the nearest pillar, letting her work, enjoying just the sight of her. I felt Angela's eyes linger on me, judging me, though she said nothing.

When Pam finished, she came to my side. Unfortunately, so did Angela. "What is he still doing here?" she jeered at Pam, as if I weren't even standing there.

Pam eyed her confused, "He's doing a story for the paper."

Angela rolled her eyes, "Oh please."

"Hey," I said defensively, "What's the deal?"

Angela didn't respond, only shook her head at Pam. "Well, if he insists on taking up space, he can help us clear off the pavilion."

"Actually, Angela," Pam started slowly, obviously afraid of what the tiny woman might do. "I'm going to be going home soon. Jan said that I didn't need to be apart of the clean-up, that you guys have it under control."

Angela's eyebrow arched high and she pursed her lips. "It's bad enough that Phyllis thinks that she can just get out of this because it is her birthday and that Ryan and Kelly think it's ok to sneak out early so they can do- who knows what and that Michael still feels like he can't walk because of- well, I didn't catch what happened exactly, but do you really expect me to move all these chairs by myself? Do you really think that you are the only one that has a life outside this festival? I have cats at home who are waiting for their home-cooked meal. If I don't get home soon, who knows what will happen."

"I'm sorry Angela," Pam returned kindly, "But it's just some chairs. And Jan is here somewhere, I'm sure she'll help out."

"You can not just leave me here alone," Angela angrily shot back. "This is your responsibility. You are the one in charge of this festival, aren't you? Maybe I should talk to Jan and let her know how incompetent you are at your job."

Pam threw me a guilty and apologetic look, and then obediently grabbed one of the chairs. I came over and place one hand over hers, stopping it from picking the chair up. "You don't have to do this," I said, feeling elated by the mere touch of her skin. "You've worked hard all day and your boss promised you could go early. You haven't eaten and, well, I haven't eaten and-"

"Don't tell her what to do," Angela yelled, pushing me away from Pam. She may have been small, but there was a lot of force in that little blonde woman. "Maybe you should go home."

I backed up a step, shocked at Angela's intensity. I glanced over at Pam, waiting for her speak. "Jim, really, its ok. I can help Angela out." She said, though the day had worn her down and it shown in her eyes.

"But, Pam," I protested. "I know you've had a long day and-"

Angela again interrupted, "What is your problem? She has an obligation to her job. You can not honestly tell me you are actually doing yours."

Pam let out a sigh, "Angela, are you sure you can't finish up on your own? My feet are killing me and I feel like I haven't had a break all day. Jan did say I could leave after the speech."

"The speech has been over for nearly forty minutes," Angela informed her, glancing at her watch. "Why are you still here then."

Pam gaped a little, but nothing came out. "She was helping me," I jumped in. "We were finishing the article."

Angela gave me another strong glare. "I think I will just find Jan and ask her," she said sternly. She whipped around quickly, marching off the pavilion. "You better be here when I get back, Pam Beesly," she warned.

"Come on, let's go," I said, tilting my head towards the parking lot. "I'm sure we can sneak out of here before she gets back."

Pam looked reluctant. "I don't know, Jim, I mean it is my job. And Angela is atrocious when she doesn't get her way. She's already pissed enough."

"You're really afraid of that woman?" I asked, doubtful that any real harm could come from Angela.

"She has a wrath like you wouldn't believe," Pam assured me. "Plus, I feel bad, I mean she is right, this is my festival."

I let out a sigh, "And you did a great job with it. So, give yourself a break. Seriously. Let's go."

Pam looked around, but she saw no one and in a move that I assumed was daring for her, she nodded, "Ok, I just have to grab my stuff."

We raced off the pavilion and towards the parking lot, stopping only for a moment at a private staff tent where Pam's purse was located. Soon, we had exited the park, Pam giving a short look back at it before facing the parking lot. I smiled to myself, happy to get her to come a long with me.

"Well," she said, as we stood under a lamplight, watching the last few festival-goers climb into their cars. "I have to wait for the bus, but I guess I'll-"

"Why don't I just give you a ride home?" I jumped in, not wanting to miss my opportunity this time. "I mean, if you're taking the bus, you can't live that far away, and I have my car here and it's no big deal."

She crossed her arms over her chest and drummed her fingers against the fabric of her shirt as she thought it over. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," I insisted, heading away from the lamp light over to where my Saab sat a few parking spots away. I motioned for her to follow. "Come on, it's better than having to wait an hour for an old smelly bus."

She smiled, "Alright, I guess I can let you drive me home."

I unlocked the doors quickly and opened the passenger's side door for her. I caught the pleasant, but fleeting smile that swept across her face. I began to clear out the seat half-heartedly tossing my jacket, messenger bag, old food wrappers, and a few CDs into the backseat. Pam grabbed the only remaining item, a quart-sized bag of nickels. She held it up, raising an intrigued eyebrow.

"They're for Dwight," I said sheepishly, grabbing the bag from her and placing it behind the driver's seat. She looked interested in the story, but I brushed it off. "It's a long story," I said and left it at that.

Soon we were on her way to her apartment, which was only a mile and a half down the road. With the exception of Pam giving me directions, neither of us said a word, creating an uncomfortably quiet atmosphere. Pam leaned an elbow up against the window and watched the buildings fly by as we passed them. I was growing nervous, knowing that it was time. I couldn't have another bridge moment. No more missed opportunities.

In my head, I debated on what I would ask her. I could ask her to dinner tomorrow night, something nice and fancy. Or maybe she wouldn't want to do fancy. I could ask her to my place, but that felt too forward and besides, my place was far from clean. I couldn't exactly invite myself to her place, that was rude.

As I contemplated the right thing to say, possibly tired of the silence, she reached over and turned on the radio. Pam turned the knob until a song by the Police blared through the speakers. She let out a laugh, completely breaking my concentration. "What's so funny?" I asked, as I turned onto the street where her apartment complex was located.

"Oh, um," she started, "Tomorrow night is the big dance, party thing the festival is holding and I was not in charge of picking the bands. Kelly was. So she picked this local band called Scrantonicity. The other day I had the pleasure of listening to the demo. It was the worst cover of 'Roxanne' I've ever heard. I tried to get it changed, but there weren't any other local bands available, so who knows how it's going to turn out. I don't know why Jan let Kelly pick the bands."

"Ah well," I said, although, Kelly and bands weren't what was on my mind. "So, this party tomorrow night, do you need to be there?" I tried to play it as casually as possible, hoping she wouldn't notice the anxiousness in my voice.

"Yeah, we all have got to be there," Pam said rolling her eyes. "It'd be a lot of fun if I didn't have to work." She placed her head on her hand and stared out the window again.

My heart sunk a little. "Well, maybe I could-"

"My apartment building is right there," she said, pointing to the right with her finger.

'Roxanne' was replaced with a slow 80's ballade, the name of which escaped me. I turned into the driveway and around the corner. I parked in one of the visitor parking spaces, which faced away from the actual building. I stopped the car and shifted the gear into park.

I turned to her, my heart racing, more nervous than I had been all day. My palms were sweating, so I wiped them on my pants. This was it, I told myself, not matter what she said, it would be such a relief to get it over with. My stomach turned with the anticipation. I thought I was much too old to get butterflies, but I guess some things don't change.

"Thank you, Jim," she said, her voice soft. She looked at me directly, with her warm green eyes and placed one hand over mine, giving it a squeeze. My breath quickened at the touch.

I parted my lips, about to speak as she opened the car door, turning away from me. When I heard her shoe hit the pavement I called out, "Hey, Pam-"

She looked back, curious and if I wasn't imagining it, hopeful. She said nothing, but waited for me to speak.

I swallowed hard. "Uh," the words weren't coming. "Have a good night," I let out finally.

She frowned at first, eyes becoming fixated on the dashboard, but managed a half-smile. "You have a good night too," she said before climbing out of the car.

When she slammed the door shut, I leaned back in my chair feeling foolish.

* * *

Life, as a friend once told me, is made up of a series of moments, each one leading to the next, each defining the person that you are, each accompanied by a choice, which will ultimately lead to the next one. But by the end of your life, I think there are a few moments that stand out among the rest, like stars that blink brighter in the sky compared to all the others. These moments are the life changing ones. The moments that when you go back and think about how you got from point A to point B, you start with these.

After she left, I sat in the car, thinking that my moment had passed. I watched in the review mirror as she made her way up to the door of the apartment complex and then it hit me. That this was my chance and I had to take it. I shut off the car, unbuckled my seatbelt and climbed out. The nervousness melted away as a new, anxious sensation took over. All day I wanted to tell her how I felt and all day I couldn't, but maybe I was supposed to wait until now.

My mother, when I was a child, used to go on about fate and destiny, about how everything happens for a reason and no matter how hard you try, it's impossible to escape the inevitable. I never really believed her, I still don't, but I was under firm belief, as I slowly made my way across the parking lot, that if Pam and I had led completely different lives, our paths would have eventually met at this particular moment. This is how the story goes, or else, how my story goes. We may have a choice of how to get there, my mother would say, but the destination was always the same.

My eyes remained fixated on her as crossed the pavement. She was on the porch, digging through her purse, for keys I supposed. She tucked her hair behind her ear, something I noticed her do all day, a trait, I suppose, she had done all her life. I wanted to learn more about her, see more of her everyday traits. I wanted to know her opinions on everything. I wanted to know what she tasted like.

I shoved my hands in my pockets, the thought vivid in my head, as I walked onto the sidewalk. I tried to think of the right things to say, but words escaped me and so I wondered if any words needed to be spoken at all. She didn't notice as I approached, instead she fumbled with her newly found keys. They dropped to the ground, a fortunate accident because it gave me the last few seconds I needed to reach the porch.

She scooped down to pick up the keys and noticed I was now beside her. "Jim?" she asked, her eyes narrowing, confused yet curious. My heart was racing, but I was no longer scared of what I had to do. She looked so beautiful in that moment, even under the unflattering, dim light over the porch. I wanted to tell her that, but I said nothing. Instead, I gave her a knowing half-smile, leaned down and kissed her.

She went limp with shock, her keys slipping out of her hands and landing with a clink on the cement. My arms were quickly around her waist to catch her, pulling her into me as I deepened the kiss. Her lips were soft and sweet, so much better than I had imagined. I could smell the flowery scent of her skin. I feared she might pull away, like she had done earlier that day, but instead she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me back just as hard, just as passionate. It was like I found everything I was missing in my life and I didn't even know I was missing it. She fit comfortably, perfectly in my arms and I never wanted to let her go. As her hands brushed through my hair, my arms squeezed tighter, wanting to take in all of her. I felt energized and exhilarated by the warmth of her body so close to mine. She began to pull away slightly and I clung on eagerly desperately with my lips, wanting the kiss to linger, wanting to explore more of her.

But then she put one hand on my chest and gently pushed away. I released my grip on her waist, taking a step back to look into her eyes, trying hard to read her reaction, but a million different thoughts passed over her features. I knew just as many thoughts raced through my mind, none of which could so easily be summed up in only a few words.

The kiss was my moment, but now it was her turn. I looked deeply into her eyes and waited.