Making the decision to suddenly tell Pam that he loved her was strangely simple. It was the execution of said plan that had Jim's mind and feet literally in a heated race to see who could cover more miles that day. He was sure that, by time Mark returned home with his girlfriend for the night, ("I call dibs on the living room tonight, brotha!"), there would be a sizeable hole in the floor, engulfing his body to the waist, from where he had been pacing fervently back and forth.
It wasn't as though he could just call her up. "Hey, Beesly. How's it goin'? Enjoying this cold weather we're having today? Also, I'm in love with you."
It couldn't be done at work, what, with her fiance three stories under their shoes. "Oh my god, Beesly! That prank execution was flawless! You are so great at this. God, I love you- oh, hey Roy." His lips puckered, cheek flinching a touch as he imagined the bafoon's fist colliding with his face.
He could do what he'd always dreamed about-late at night while lying awake in bed; on a random Tuesday while he mulled over his breakfast; driving home from visiting his parents every other Sunday evening; whenever he heard her giggle from 10 feet across the office and his heart grew four sizes larger in his chest cavity.
Sometimes in his dreams, they were on the beach, toes tangled in the sand while the sun set low over the water. Sometimes they were in Paris, the Eiffel Tower in the background, stars dotting the sky. Others, they were tangled up in the sheets, the morning light cascading halos around their heads that were so insignificant to the glow that positively radiated from the smile she cast.
While each of his visions differed, one part always remained constant. There would be a moment where the texture of the air around them changed, became somehow lighter than she had already made it. He would reach out and cup her cheek in his hand, her smile stretching into his palm as he gently stroked her soft skin with his thumb. The words would be written in his smile; she would know them before they became vibrations in the air. But he would say them all the same.
"God, I am so in love with you."
It had always been a dream, beyond his wildest fantasies. But all of a sudden, it was pounding on his chest, pulling at his hands and feet to go, to make it his new reality.
She needed to know. Just once.
The problem was getting her alone.
He had no doubt that Pam's Saturdays were filled with one of two contrasting itineraries: She was either busy from dusk until dawn with her family or Roy's, or she was at home with literally nothing to do.
Based on her text message earlier, he knew she was more than likely participating in the latter.
Would she come if he called?
Sure, they'd had a pattern of hanging out over the past few weekends, but that didn't mean she was at his beck and call.
Maybe he was better off planning something, setting up a date with her to hang out, so that he could use their scheduled time to his advantage.
That plan seemed like the most solid idea.
He spent a good chunk of his afternoon online, searching for places in town that he could take her that was a comfortable balance between "we're just friends hanging out" and "I'm about to tell you the biggest secret I've ever kept." After relentless hours of searching, he was exhausted, and decided a Sports Center break had been earned.
Three hours later, he was being awakened by the ringing chimes of the doorbell.
She looked so tiny, standing there on his front porch, clutching her jacket tightly around her body. It was almost comedic, the childlike stature that she embodied, with her lips drawn down, eyebrows knit with confusion. As he opened his mouth, his eyebrows began to do the same.
"Hey." With one arm resting high on the doorframe, he lazily dragged his other behind his neck, rubbing nervously.
"Hi." She didn't meet his eyes, focusing instead on his bare feet, his long legs wrapped in soft, grey cotton sweatpants. As she finally met his eyes, noticing his rumpled hair and slowly unglassing eyes, her own eyes suddenly popped open, a deeper red springing to her cheeks.
"Oh my god, did I wake you up? God, Jim, I'm such an idiot, I'm so sorry-"
She was interrupted by his chuckle.
"Nonsense, Beesly. If you hadn't done it, Mark and Kimmy would have, and trust me, this is so much more pleasant."
She returned his smile, though tight-lipped, as the wind picked up around her.
"Hey, why don't you come in out of the cold? We can continue this conversation in temperatures that are at least moderately above freezing."
She nodded curtly, following him inside the foyer that had become all too familiar in these past few weeks. A sense of comfort washed over her, seeming to melt the tension that had been mounting since this morning. As it poured out of her body, it transferred directly into Jim's. Not hours ago, he had been wondering how in the hell he was going to get her alone, get the chance to put it all out on the line. And somehow, by fate or luck or the hand of God, she had been delivered to his doorstep?
Here goes nothing, Halpert. Don't screw it up this time, pal.
She was here. She had gotten herself here. But now, they were standing in his foyer, not quite out of the hallway, not quite making a motion in one direction or another. She was here. But she quickly realized that she had no real plan other than making it past the doorway.
"You know, I should honestly be thanking you right now."
She let out a grateful sigh of relief when he broke the tension. Somehow, in her world, he always did.
"Oh yeah?" she retorted, a smile forming on her cheeks for the first time since she had arrived. "Why's that?"
"Well, because," he began. "I knocked out for an afternoon nap, and it's almost eight o'clock now. If you hadn't come knocking on my door, I'd probably still be sleeping, which means I'd wake up around one in the morning wide awake, and then my sleeping schedule would just be totally screwed for the rest of eternity. So, I believe I owe you a debt of gratitude, Beesly."
He ceremoniously bowed, and finally, finally, she was giggling.
"You're very welcome." She curtsied in return, and followed him as he extended his arm towards the living room, "Shall we?" trickling past his goofy grin.
Still wearing her coat, purse still nestled on her shoulder, she took a seat on the couch. She was stiff, awkward, so contradictory to the way she usually felt on this couch. How at home she usually felt on this couch.
"So," he said as he joined her, offering a glass of water that she gladly accepted. She needed something to do with her hands. "How's the hangover treating you?"
His lips were pulled up and to the side, his lopsided grin causing her to roll her eyes and groan and throw her head back into the cushy leather.
"I'm never drinking again."
"Doubtful, Beesly. So doubtful."
Her smile was present before she opened her eyes and found him staring at her. He was sitting sideways on the couch so that he could face her, his right elbow pressed into the back of the couch so that his large palm could cradle the side of his head. His eyes, though still glossy, twinkled; his smile sent a shiver down her spine.
"But seriously, I'm glad you're okay. You were kind of out of it last night."
And here was her opportunity. Her one chance to put together the missing pieces of her night. To make sense of the gut feeling that she'd had since this morning that something in her life just wasn't quite right.
Immediately, her gaze dropped to the glass in her palms, fingers toying with the condensation that had already begun dripping down its sides. Suddenly, she was hot all over.
"Yeah…" her voice trailed off. How did she even begin this conversation? Focusing more on the problem of her body's rapidly increasing temperature, she stood and turned her back to him, removing her coat and scarf carefully before folding them neatly and topping the pile in her lap with her purse.
"So, about that… Jim...god this is so embarrassing. I...I kind of don't...remember much from last night."
Slowly, her eyes left their trained place on the rim of her glass and sought Jim's. While he tried so, so hard to mask the hurt by keeping that smile plastered through the pain, his eyes told the true story. She wasn't sure why, but an immediate sorrow filled them, the hurt overwhelming his pupils.
"Oh."
And there it went.
As quickly as the opportunity had presented itself to Jim-literally on his doorstep-it had slipped between his fingers. That one syllable was all he could muster, incapable of formulating anything else to say to her. Their conversation on the phone had been flushed down the toilet with the rest of her night. Memories faded in the wind.
"Actually, the uh...the reason I came here tonight was...I wanted to see if...if you could maybe fill in the blanks for me?"
Her words were so tentative and small, her gaze focused once again on the rim of her water glass.
But no matter how small she looked, how hopeful she was that he could repair the hole in her night, fill in the cracks, he couldn't do it. If she had said those words-those words that had burned themselves onto his heart, the I miss you's and the I don't miss Roy's and the jealousy that tinged in her voice and bit at his ears when she cried about his date-and didn't remember the importance that positively drowned them in, then there was no way he could be the one to paint them back into her memory.
His moment was gone.
And yet here he sat, literally crumbling apart on the inside at the thought of the most pivotal moment in their relationship coming to an impasse, but having to put on a brave face and give her answers anyway. Luckily for him, the countless years of pranks and jokes and-honestly? Having to hide his emotions from her in general-had prepared him for such a moment. Swallowing his pride, along with the growing lump in his throat, words somehow found their way to his lips.
"Wow. Beesly. I knew you could get a little rambunctious when you drank too much, but total blackout?" His chuckle masked the fact that the tears in his eyes were actually from the sorrow that hung over his head, but she couldn't tell. To her, they were a wave of relief, a comedic parting from the nervous cloud that was finally beginning to dissipate.
"Ya know, there's always been this part of me that was sad that I never got to experience Wild Crazy College Beesly, but thanks to you and your friend Pinot Grigio, my wish has been granted. I can officially die a happy man."
Her giggles found their home echoing off his living room ceiling.
"Glad to be of service."
As she half-bowed in her seated position, and their laughter trickled out into nothingness, she noticed his evasion.
"So, to repay the favor, could you tell me what exactly Wild Crazy College Beesly did last night?"
Her eyes were more hopeful than tentative now, but his gut was still knotted like a Boy Scout had done the damage. Taking a deep breath, while trying not to let on how much he was hurting, he began to weave his believable tale.
"Well, aside from the obvious table dancing, body shots, and lampshade wearing," he paused, giving himself one fleeting moment of that smile that had positively stretched the skin of her face taught. Her cheeks were glowing brighter than any light bulb in the room. Here it was: his fantasy. He could do it, right now. Could reach up, cup her cheek, mutter those simple words that fueled his existence.
But he knew that right now, that wasn't what she needed.
She didn't need large professions of unrequited love. In this moment, she needed reassurance. And that, he could provide for her, no matter how false.
"It was a lot of like, incoherent babbling, if I'm being honest." As the lies formulated, he refused to meet her gaze, refused to meet those wondering eyes, refused to let them search in his own for the actual truth.
"Really?"
"Yeah, really." His chuckle, to her, sounded as though he was recalling the conversation, lost in the thoughts of her slurred words that strung together all out of order. But as he chose his words, something stung in the back of her mind that said he wasn't telling her the whole truth.
"So, what exactly do you remember about last night?"
It was her turn to fester in her own mind. A wave of blush washed throughout her body, and she stiffened.
I remember being sad that you were going on a date.
I remember wanting to call you.
I remember missing you.
Of course, she couldn't just say those things.
But why?
Why couldn't she just tell him the truth?
She had come here tonight in search of the truth, hadn't she?
If she was going to do this, she was going to do it right.
She set her things on the seat to her right, secured her glass atop a coaster on his coffee table, and turned to face him.
"Honestly, Jim? I don't remember our phone conversation at all," she began slowly, picking at her fingers as she chose her words. "But what I do remember is everything that led up to it."
His eyes were intense, searching frantically, trying to find her motivations before the words came. He nodded, ever so slightly, encouraging her to continue.
"I...I remember hearing you tell Kevin and Abby that you had a date."
His entire body was a thousand degrees.
"And when I got home, well Roy had already made plans to go out, so I...opened a bottle of wine."
She refused to meet his gaze, tending to her cuticles suddenly an integral part of her storytelling.
"The more I drank, the more upset I got."
Seriously, had Mark messed with the thermostat? He tugged at the collar of his t-shirt, willing the sweat to avoid seeping through the cotton.
"And suddenly, I wasn't upset that Roy was out, but…"
She gulped, willing the tears back inside, as she finally met his eyes. That forest green had deepened to a color so intense, she had to look away for a moment.
"I was upset because...I think I missed you."
She didn't think it; she knew it. But this way was much easier.
"You were out with someone else, and I guess...I guess I was jealous?"
He pleaded with his body to stop shaking. She could feel that through the leather, couldn't she?
"I was jealous, because you're my friend. You shouldn't have been out with someone else. God, how selfish is that?"
He nodded, surprised that his body was able to handle even such a simple motion in his paralyzed state.
"And that's really all I remember."
She offered him a sheepish grin, a shrug of her shoulders, willing him to pick up where she had left off. When he sat motionless and unresponsive, she encouraged him.
"So, Halpert. Think you might be able to finish the story for me?"
He was unmoving, paralyzed by that word friend.
You're my friend. You shouldn't have been out with someone else.
But at the same time, she had admitted to jealousy. Hadn't said a goddamn thing about the drinking and the date being unrelated. Maybe, just maybe, he could do this, too. After shifting his body so that his legs now touched the floor, so that he faced forwards now instead of lounging in her direction, he took a long sip of his otherwise untouched glass of water, wishing so much that it would transform itself into something that would give him a bit more courage.
"Well, um. I mean, now that you mention it…" He was grappling, stalling, and they both knew it.
"Yeah, Pam, that's...that's kind of what the whole conversation was about."
His eyes drifted upwards from where they rested in his lap, landing on hers that were riddled with tension, apprehension, but still filled with questions. As he had moments ago, she nodded in encouragement.
"So, you called me, obviously…" His fingers traced the rim of his water glass, the squeaking sound barely audible under his digits. "And you said...well, you said that you missed me."
He squeezed his eyes shut, for only a second, flashes of their phone conversation positively attacking him.
"You didn't...you didn't know why you missed me. You wanted me to answer that for you. Which, I think, is why you called me in the first place."
He offered her a sheepish smile, finding humor in the purpose of her call.
"Like, you thought I knew your motivation behind missing me or something."
And there it was. Her upturned lips. A sense that he was at least doing something right.
"Well, at least I remembered something," she offered.
"Yeah, yeah that's true."
"So, Halpert. Did you tell me why?" Her eyes pinched, eyebrow cocked, as she tried to bring back their joking aire.
"Did I tell you why what?"
"Did you tell me why I apparently spent my entire night missing you?"
His lips twitched, fighting between going up or down, when he decided that, at this point, he might as well just play along.
"Unfortunately, Beesly, I cannot read minds-don't tell Dwight that, by the way. I'm in the process of convincing him otherwise." A giggle. A pause. Time to breathe. "So in that respect, I did not. But, I have some theories."
"Oh? And they are?"
"Well, it could be a number of things: My amazing sense of humor, my epic pranking skills, my devilishly handsome looks."
He waggled his eyebrows. She shook her head from side to side in laughter, masking the chill that had shocked her.
"But, to be honest, Pam, I don't know. That's one question I can't answer for you. And I'm pretty sure that's what I told you last night."
His smile was apologetic. Hers was sad, but understanding. He continued.
"And then it was...it was a lot of me worrying about how much wine you'd had, and you telling me that you missed me again, and then...well, you were asking me about my date."
He paused, needing to catch his breath, to ground himself back to this living room, this earth. She was still listening; her gaze hadn't wavered from his lips, trying to hold onto every word that passed.
"You wanted to know where we went, and what we did, and then...you asked me if I kissed her goodnight."
Suddenly, nothing else in the world was more important to her than the question that poured out of her lips without warning.
"Did you kiss her goodnight?"
Their eyes met, for the first time, in intensity.
"No."
She gulped.
"Did you want to?"
He gulped.
"No."
In the same instant, their eyes found each other's lips, flicking up and down, lips to eyes, the heat between them seeming to cook.
He was leaning forward.
She was leaning forward.
His palm positively covered her thigh.
Her tiny hand posessively grasped his forearm.
And Mark and Kimmy barreled through the front door.
Jim and Pam both nearly jumped out of their skin, stealing to opposite ends of the couch as the couple came bounding down the hallway into their sights.
"Hey, Halpert! I called dibs on the living room tonight, bro!"
His voice preceded him, and his eyes widened as his body followed, his eyes dropping in on the sight in the living room. There was a Jim, and there was a Pam, but not the Jim and Pam he knew. No, these two humans were oh so clearly flustered. They were red, flustered, sweat beaded on foreheads. He cursed himself for coming back so early.
Both parties on the couch were suddenly standing before him; Pam clutching her things protectively against her chest, Jim with hands clasped behind his head as if he'd just been for a run.
"Yeah, yeah sure, man. We'll get out of your hair."
And then they were gone, headed down the hallway towards the door.
As he saw his roommate disappear around the corner, he made a silent prayer that he wouldn't be left brokenhearted tonight.
They were caught in the hallway between the stairs and the front door, neither knowing quite what to do.
Did they talk about it? Resume what they were doing?
Do what they always did and run away from it all?
Their "So's" escaped at the same time, overlapping one another, being forgotten in a string of giggles that eventually petered out.
"You wanna watch a movie or something?" Jim finally said, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants to keep from touching her again. "I have a TV in my bedroom."
A small sigh escaped Pam's lungs. She was exhausted from their conversation, but she didn't want to leave him. Not yet.
"Wow, how very ninetys of you."
Their nervous smiles matched, and he led the way upstairs to a room she'd only ever seen once before.
She didn't remember what movie they picked, or when they had turned the lights off, or when he had suddenly nodded off. What she did remember was the overwhelming sense of Jim that had assaulted her from the moment her socks crossed the threshold.
He had offered to sit on the floor so that she could lie on his bed. She had immediately declined, patting the spot next to her as she cozied up to the pillows that were tattooed with his scent and imprinted by his face. Their position mimicked the one that they had formed that Valentine's Day night, with legs outstretched. But this time, being on a bed, hers barely made it three-quarters of the way, while she noticed that his frame had to fight to stay all the way on the mattress. She didn't sandwich his feet between hers this time, didn't lay her head atop his shoulder, but not because she didn't want to.
It was because she feared that if she did, she wouldn't be able to stop herself from touching more than just that.
She should've felt ridgid, uncomfortable, awkward on his bed. Instead, that hole that had been itching her chest for the past-well, she really didn't know how long-was suddenly more whole.
They didn't speak, just laughed at a screen filled with people she didn't know, whom she didn't care to find out more about. She laughed when he did, was silent in his silences. Until she felt movement beside her in the nodding of his head. Aside from that one morning, she'd never seen him asleep before. This opportunity was one she was going to seal permanently into her mind.
The way his mouth opened just a touch.
The way his eyes vibrated behind the lids, hopefully chasing good dreams.
The way his face turned almost instantaneously from man to boy, skin softening in the light of the television.
She stared at him for seconds, minutes, a half hour? She couldn't keep track. Didn't want to. Didn't want to answer the part of her mind that asked why she was all of a sudden inching closer to him. Didn't want to be questioned as to why she was slinking down from her seated position. Didn't want to admit to why her head was suddenly cradled to his chest, why her arm was snaking around his waist, why her leg was coming to cross posessively over his own.
Wouldn't admit to every part of her that was screaming as she carefully grabbed her phone to text Roy that she would be home in the morning.
As her eyes blinked slowly shut and she let sleep envelop her, she thought she felt his arm come around her, too.
At 3:47 AM, Jim was suddenly awake.
Not awake in an alert sense, but awake enough to know that if he didn't open his eyes, he'd drift back to his dreams in a matter of minutes.
As a matter of fact, he realized, he was still in one of his dreams.
He was in his own room, that much he knew.
But this time, his arms were wrapped possessively around her small body as he spooned her from behind.
Of all his dreams, this was truly his favorite.
He could imagine risque and downright dirty things all he wanted to. But this? Wrapped around the woman that he loved, protecting her as she slept, was all he wanted in life. And when his subconscious mimicked that wish, he thanked it each and every time. He tried his best to lock this one away before it escaped him, to pocket for a rainy day.
Their bodies were essentially molded together, back to front, bottom to crotch, legs running the length of one another. His arms held on tightly, as they always did in dreams like these, one wrapped around her waist, the other across her chest.
Usually, his dreams didn't have smells, but the scent of her familiar shampoo must've cut itself loose from his memories and given him an extra added bonus tonight.
Doing what he always did in this favorite dream of his, he nuzzled his nose into her hair and placed a tender, lingering kiss atop her head. And like she always did, she nuzzled her body closer, gripping him tighter as he did the same.
The first thing Pam noticed upon waking up was that she was absolutely, positively, cold. Roy was a hot box, so she never needed to worry about a lack of covers at night. But as she became more familiarized with her surroundings, she remembered that she wasn't with Roy.
She was with Jim.
Her head was nestled neatly under his shoulder, where his nose brushed atop her forehead, his slow breath tickling her skin. She was cradled into a fetal position against him, his arm wrapped loosely around her shoulder where it came flush with her own arm that was gripping the cotton of the shirt above his chest. Her left leg was draped unceremoniously over his thighs, nearing dangerously towards his waistline.
This time, she didn't startle, or jump ten feet in the air. This time, she let her body come to know, to understand, what was happening. What it would be like to wake up with Jim.
But she was still cold.
Because Jim Halpert was a goddamn cover hog.
The entire green and brown striped comforter was wrapped around him like a burrito.
And his lanky frame was weighed on top of the sheets.
Her shivering startled him from his slumber enough to squeeze onto her tighter, as if he knew that once he opened his eyes, this moment would be gone. Her eyes closed too, searing this feeling to her brain.
As his eyes blinked open, his arms slipped from their place around her body, the cold now overtaking her. He stretched, long, lanky arms winding above his head, toes extending under the covers, squeaks and moans trickling in his throat.
She'd always wondered what he would look like first thing in the morning. Was he a chronic snoozer? Up before the alarm?
At least she had the answer to one question. He was most definitely a cover hog.
As he concluded the last of his stretches, he slowly turned his gaze to meet hers. Through one opened eye, and bedhead that stuck out in all directions.
He wasn't running away this time.
He was going to wake up next to her, and he was going to enjoy the next five minutes of his life.
"Hey."
His voice was gravelly, filled with sleep that was still trying to hold on.
Roy's was usually grumbling, loud, and worse most days than her alarm clock.
"Hi."
Her smile stretched to her ears.
He watched her, still crumpled into a tiny ball, hands now clasped together under her chin.
"How'd you sleep?"
Her eyes closed, smile reaching her ears, as she gave herself a passing moment to remember the way his body had been wrapped around hers.
"Great, actually. I'd rate your bed a solid seven out of ten."
"A seven? Seriously, Beesly?" He scoffed, propping himself on his side. He'd never had a conversation this intimately close with her. He'd do everything in his power to keep it going all day long.
"And where exactly am I missing those three points?"
She giggled.
She was giggling in his bed.
The halo of light that came in through his bedroom window didn't hold a candle to the way her smile lit up the room.
He could do it right here. Right now. Reach out. Take her face in his hands. Tell her that he loved her. Stay in this bed, all day, wrapped up in her.
"Well, the comfort level is pretty great. But where you lose points is in temperature."
Her eyes drifted to the blanket that was still cocooned around his body, laughing as his eyes bulged out of his skull.
"Oh my god, Beesly I am so sorry!"
Her laughter shook his bed in a way he hadn't ever wished for, but was now encouraging.
He untucked the blanket from where his body warmed it and extended a corner to her small frame.
"God, I feel like such a dick. I'll have to help you warm up. Wouldn't want you getting sick now."
It was those words that did it, that flooded memories upon her like a monsoon.
I'll have to help you warm up. Wouldn't want you getting sick now.
Suddenly, they were in her house, tumbling down the hallway, lying on the guest bed.
He was ravishing her body, clothes disappearing, lips and hands everywhere.
Her legs wrapped around him, begging for more.
Him, positively everywhere, inside her, filling her to a wholeness she'd never known.
She was on the couch, an empty bottle of wine coursing through her veins.
Beesly, are you drunk?
Maybe a little.
How much is a little?
Maybe, like, the whole bottle.
Jim, why do I miss you?
I'm more than a little worried right now. I'll drive across town to come check on you if I have to.
Yes. You should do that. B'cause then I wouldn't have to miss you.
'Cause when I see you, I get all tingly inside. When I see Roy, all I feel is blech.
Is Roy home?
No.
It was all back.
And it was hitting her as square in the face as hard as the words fiance and infidelity and cheater were. She felt as though she had a giant scarlett "A" tattooed on her forehead.
This moment was gone.
As gone as she was, as she pounced from the bed, grabbing her neat pile of coat and scarf and purse, before bounding down the staircase.
She heard his faint, "Pam! Pam, wait! Pam!" as she headed towards the door, but her mind was positively overwhelmed by the ringing of mockery in her ears.
He met her, flush against her back, large hand covering hers as it hovered on the doorknob.
"Pam."
His voice was hot in her ear, only causing the tears to spill harder down her cheeks.
"Did I… Was it something I…"
She shook her head, hair brushing against his chest, as she turned their hands against the doorknob.
"I have to go."
She refused to meet his eyes as she backed down the driveway, tearing across town as fast as the motor would take her.
