The mornings were always the hardest for Pam. Her fiance Roy would wake her with a nudge to the shoulder, and by the time she was out of the shower he had already left for work. The house was quiet, and it was easy for her to imagine any sort of life she wanted without him. Mostly, she imagined things she shouldn't, things that hurt her in the end. She found she truly had a masochist streak when it came to yearning for could've been. Should've beens.
Anyone could see it in the office, in fact many had. Jim Halpert, her bestfriend Jim. He was the life she imagined for herself. The notion that kept her going during the bleak moments in her life. Somewhere in the back of Pam's mind she had thought some how, some way they would find eachother. They would have their happily ever after. It was a silly thought because she knew Jim wasn't a possibility. He was a sweet guy, he wasn't interested in her. She had seen him do many nice things for various people he didn't even seem to care that much for. And he did care for her which made him do many nice things for her. That was all.
The mornings were always the hardest for Pam, and this morning was of no exception. She stared at her curling hair in the mirror, and she could almost imagine Jim standing behind her. His large hand on her shoulder, making her feel soft and delicate. And he would smile at her, his hair sticking every which way and he would whisper something to her. Something, anything. Probably something ridiculous in a romantic voice to make her laugh. He would lean down to kiss her neck, she knew his lips would be as soft as they looked. And she would simply melt.
Shaking herself out of the dream that was causing a hollow ache inside of her chest she headed towards the bedroom to find her shoes. Pam was situating herself in the car moments after, driving too fast as she had let herself linger much too long in her dream world. Quickly she pulled into the parking lot when she approached the Dunder Mifflin building, and exited her car.
"Beesly!" Her heart tripped, just like the romance novels she secretly devoured. She heard his long stride, his shoe hit a puddle. "Dammit Beesly. My foot is soaked now. How much do you want to bet that I can convince Dwight I'm dissolving limb by limb into water?"
He caught up to her and bumped her affectionately with his shoulder. "It depends. What kind of back story are you going to put into it? Like is it some sort of super power? Wait, that doesn't even make sense. What would you be? The Incredible Puddle Boy?"
"Boy? I'm a man, Pam. I don't think I've been called a boy since I reached the 6 foot mark," he said as his infamous tilted smile played on his face. She looked at him from his feet, to his head and had to admit it was quite a journey.
She shrugged her shoulders at him and grimaced. "You have boy-like qualities."
"Such as?" He asked as he opened the door for her, and she didn't miss when he layed his hand on the small of her back to guide her in first. They pushed the elevator button and waited.
"Well, not many grown men know how to put objects in jello. Or write ransom notes for bobble head dolls. Not to mention your hair."
"Oh my god! Is something wrong with my hair?!" Jim asked in mock horror and he batted down the pieces, it didn't do much. They stuck right back where they had been before and it made her smile.
"No, it's just not the most grown-up style." She nibbled on her lip as she watched him tilt his head to consider what she was saying.
"Should I get it cut?" He seemed sincere, and it worried her.
He laughed. Her voice was emphatic, and a little louder than she had meant it to be. She could feel herself blushing under his stare. The elevator finally opened and they stepped in. The doors closed and they stood in silence for a second before Jim felt the need to speak again.
"So, I shouldn't cut the hair then?"
"No. I've grown attatched to it." She stood on her tip-toes to grab a soft piece between her tiny fingertips. Jim's breathing seemed a little uneven at her unusual closenees. And suddenly, before she had time to see him move his hand was clapped on her wrist. Not tightly, but forcefully. His slightly calloused thumb rubbed against her inner wrist, and she felt a shiver down her spine. The doors dinged, and she tugged away guiltily but not before looking in his eyes. She saw something there, something she had never seen before. Something she was sure she was never meant to see.
It changed everything.