disclaimer: It all belongs to the geniuses behind The Office and NBC.
summary: Probably one of my most favorite J/P eps ever and they OWN
swaying so back off, VM.
rating: PG-13
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Unless You Sing
“You have new music?”
“Yeah.”
She holds out her hand to me and smiles. The
smile that kills me ten different ways.
“Definitely,” I say, not bothering to hide the huge, idiotic grin on my
face.
I hand her the other earbud and I try not to stare as she places it in her ear.
I try not to notice when she moves closer to me.
I try not to inhale the smell of her.
Especially her hair which is two inches below me and smells like
something really…fantastic. It
isn’t exactly flowery or fruity…it’s unique and awesome.
It’s her. Pam.
I know I’m being that guy.
The guy that doesn’t care that the girl already has a guy. But can you
blame me? You tell me how to not
love this girl and I’ll give it a shot because so far?
Nothing has worked. Nothing.
Zip. Zilch. Nada.
Of course, standing here, sharing music, both us just sort of moving to
the song…that doesn’t exactly help
with not loving her. She must like
it. She’s staying and nodding her
head.
I will never not listen to Travis again.
This isn’t fair.
Standing here, smelling her, having her be so close and not being able to just
reach…right…out. It just isn’t
fair.
And tonight was so great. Like a
date, even. I wonder what she would
think of that. Maybe I’ll casually
ask her tomorrow. Just like I do
everyday. I keep everything casual
when everything regarding her is anything but.
I’ll ask her.
Why?
Because I’m a glutton for punishment.
Because I’m a glutton for her.
She stayed late.
Roy
went home and she actually stayed. Next
to me at the conference table. And
then after, long after we were all done mocking Michael’s script, she still
stayed. Doesn’t that mean
something? Anything?
More than the fact that I might be reading more into this than I should?
But I do that. It’s what I
do. Who doesn’t when they feel
this way?
But, really, Roy comes, she sends him home and she stays…with me and we eat
together and we watch Dwight…sorry, Dwigt and Kevin play with
fireworks…which if I had been thinking clearly and it was anyone but
Dwight, I would have nipped it in the bud.
But as it was, she sat next to me again and there was a candle and my
amazing grilled cheese sandwiches and she told me she couldn’t remember the
last time someone made her dinner. And
I’m not supposed to react to that? Or
think more of it?
And all I could think was that I would make her dinner every night.
Every single night for the rest of our lives.
But I can’t say these things because if I could, I would.
Right now, actually, because right now is perfect and it would be even
better if I dipped my head a couple inches and kissed her.
I could just kiss her and whisper against her lips how I would love her
like no one ever had before, that I would take care of her and treat her the way
she should be treated and –
“Thanks,” she says and I have to shake my head to clear it.
She’s holding out the little bud that just thirty seconds ago connected
us. “I guess I’ll see you
tomorrow.”
“Oh, you didn’t hear?
I quit. I’m going to
Hollywood
to try and option a really fantastic screenplay,” I say with a smile as I
take the earphone from her and try to suppress the shiver that runs through me
when my fingers graze hers.
“Nice try, Halpert. You’ll never
quit.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” I agree, nodding knowingly and I think I’ll never
quit you, Beesley. It’s silent.
It’s always silent.
“Besides, finder’s keepers and that bad boy is all mine,” she tells me and
she tries to be so serious and it’s adorable and then she laughs at herself
and I think I just fell even more in love with her.
She
waves
at me and walks away but I can’t have her leave.
Not yet.
“So, tomorrow, I’m thinking maybe a little game of annoy the Dwigt,” I
call out to her, hoping all desperation in my voice is gone.
She twirls around to look at me and says, “I already have that penciled in
from 9 to 5.”
She winks and finishes her spin and I can do nothing but watch her get into her
car and drive away.
I replace the earphone in my ear and I have an overwhelming desire to write a
letter to Apple to let them know how much I enjoy their product.
***********************
I’m thrilled to be leaving. I
can’t believe how late it is and I wonder if
Roy
’s even waiting up for me. I see
Jim through the glass doors and I have the very distinct feeling that he is
waiting for me.
“You have new music?” I ask and he tells me yes.
I hold out my hand and he smiles at me.
That smile that makes every morning just a little bit better because,
yeah, I work at Dunder Mifflin. Smiles
are hard to come by and Jim has…really…great…teeth.
“Definitely,” he answers and hands me the extra ear piece.
As I place it in my ear and hear the opening strings of music that I know
I’ve heard trickling out of his speakers at work before,
I move closer to him and I’m not even sure why but I can’t over think
it. I just can’t.
I feel like I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be this close, not close enough
to smell him. But it’s such a
pleasant smell. Not like
Roy
’s Brut or Michael’s knock-off Draakar.
Jim doesn’t smell like any kind of cologne.
It’s soap and detergent and something else under all that, and I
suppose that it’s him. Just him.
And I feel my knees go a little weak but I continue to bob my head to the
music because I don’t want him to see that I’m having trouble standing this
close to him.
I shouldn’t be having problems with my knees…or have that flipping in my
stomach…or that fast beating of my heart…for anyone other than
Roy
and yet…
I want to look at him. But I’m
afraid to. What if I see something
there and I can’t stop myself? I
can’t help but think of that night…the Dundies night when I drunkenly kissed
him and when I was going to ask him if he…
I need to stop thinking about that night.
I need to get away from this situation.
But…he made me dinner. And
we mocked Michael, which is always fun
and tonight was pretty perfect. And
now we’re listening to this song and I like what it says but I don’t like
the way it makes me feel because I don’t feel like singing.
Not anymore…and I don’t even want to think about what that means.
And, God, he’s so close to me. Just
standing right there and he’s so tall and I feel so comfortable and not like
he’s looming over me like I do sometimes with
Roy
. He’s there and I feel…safe and
at ease and I’m completely petrified by that.
I wonder if he can hear my heart because I can’t even hear the song
anymore.
I look up at him through my lashes. That’s
safe. And I catch my breath because
he looks so peaceful and there’s a small smile on his lips and he seems so
content.
And that frightens me, too.
Because if I just moved an inch closer and went up on my toes, I could kiss him.
I could. And I wouldn’t be
drunk and I wouldn’t have to pretend it didn’t happen.
I could kiss him and thank him for dinner.
Thank him for being my friend. Thank
him for making me feel like I am the most special girl in the world.
Just one inch forward and two inches up and my life could change.
I lean in and in my ear I hear nothing. It
startles me back to reality and I quickly remove it from my ear.
I exhale, slowly, gathering myself and say, “Thanks.”
I think I’ve surprised him and he shakes his head and frowns…I think it is
supposed to be a smile but it just doesn’t quite make it.
I tell him I’ll see him tomorrow and he makes a crack about quitting which
will never happen. I hope.
What would I do if he quit? What
would I do if he weren’t across from me every day?
Who would challenge me at Sudoku and Freecell?
Who would torment Dwight with me?
I tell him that he’s never quitting because if I tell him that, if I say it
out loud, maybe it will actually happen and he tells me I’m right and
there’s a look on his face that breaks my heart a little.
He looks like he knows that he is going to work at Dunder Mifflin for the
rest of his life and he hates that fact. I
hate it, too, but if he’s there, it’s okay.
And I know it’s selfish of me but I don’t care.
I’m not selfish about many things in my life.
I joke that the script is mine and I giggle when he makes a face like I just
took away his one last hope…which, normally, wouldn’t be funny but Jim just
has this way of making me laugh. No
matter what. It’s a really nice
feeling.
I wave as I walk away, towards my car, not wanting to say goodbye.
Wanting just to keep that moment fresh and not ruin it because I know
when I get in my car and I’m driving home that this feeling will wane and I
will make myself forget how great I felt. It’s
easier for me to do it this way.
“So, tomorrow, I’m thinking of a little game of annoy the Dwigt.”
I love that he said Dwigt.
I turn to look at him and tell him in my most professional of manners that I
already have it planned and he smiles like I’ve just said the best thing and I
wink because it seemed like the thing to do.
I get in my car and I sit for a minute. I
look in my CD holder and quickly pull out the mix CD that Jim had made for me.
I put it in the player and close my eyes as I hear the familiar music of
the first song.
I drive away and look at Jim in my rearview mirror.
I see that he’s still standing in the same spot and he’s smiling.
And I don’t want to think about how happy that makes me so I turn up the
stereo and let the music wash over me.
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