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Paper Rings
chapter twenty seven
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ONE BEER WASN'T ENOUGH IT SEEMED. Evelyn was sitting with her second glass, leaning into Jim as they shared their appetizer. "This next award," Michael announced, "goes to somebody who really lights up the office." Music flooded from the speakers. Evelyn's head rested comfortably on Jim's shoulder.
"Somebody who, I think, a lot of us cannot keep from checkin' out."
"It's Ryan," Evelyn whispered with a breathy giggle. Jim shuddered from the warmth of her breath on his neck. "The Hottest in the Office Award goes to... Ryan the Temp!"
Evelyn straightened, turning in her seat to see Ryan's look of shock. She applauded, giddily, cheeks flushing. "You were right," Jim laughed. She turned back toward Jim with a brilliant smile. "Of course!" she exclaimed. "Michael totally has a crush on him."
Her head snapped toward a passing Ryan and she cupped her hands around her mouth to cheer for him. He shook his head at her, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile. Michael was singing along to the song, teasing Ryan with the small trophy. Back and forth, back and forth until Ryan finally caught it in his grasp.
The dark haired man raised the award toward his co-workers with an embarrassed expression. As he turned, Michael slapped his butt with a cheer. Evelyn gasped, turning toward Jim in surprise. Michael chuckled.
Jim brushed back hair from her face, her skin hot to the touch. "You okay?" he asked, his smile soft. He tucked a strand behind her ear, fingertips lazily tracing the shell. She nodded, bottom lip bitten between her teeth. "I feel good," she replied. "Tonight is going great. I'm having lots of fun!"
Jim chuckled. She leaned into his touch, cheek pressing to her shoulder. Her glasses slipped, now sitting crookedly on her face. He bit down on his lip to stifle his laugh. "Next up!" Michael exclaimed once the music had shut off. "It appears we have a reigning champion in the house!"
Evelyn looked back toward Michael, her fingers pushing her glasses back into place. Jim's eyes stayed on the brunette. His arm rested on the back of his chair, fingers itching to touch her. His head tilted slightly, biting his pointer finger between his teeth.
"The Fountain of Youth Award goes to Miss Evelyn Takahashi!" he exclaimed. Before the alcohol, she would have grimaced. However, she felt elated. She clapped her hands together, sliding from her seat. Jim's eyes widened when she teetered to the side, only for her to regain her balance almost immediately.
Michael felt proud to see her so excited. She approached him, tucking her hair behind her ears, eyes shining bright. "Tell us your secret," he teased the girl, passing off her trophy. "Is it because you're Asian or because you bathe in the blood of young women?" He finished his question off with a snort. Evelyn's smile faltered a bit, her head cocking to the side.
"I'm teasing," he said into the microphone, having picked up on the awkwardness of his question. "Go– go sit down." Quietly, she spun around, beaming toward her co-workers. They all clapped for her, Jim cupping his hands around his mouth to cheer her on. Her name fell from his lips like honey.
She walked back to her shared table with Jim. Hands gripped her seat after she set the award onto the table. "You're officially sitting with an award winning celebrity," she joked, nose crinkled. Jim nodded his head, leaning into her unconsciously. "I'm starstruck," he replied, earnestly.
Something tickled at her nose. It was a scent, a scent she knew quite well. A woodsy scent, with a hint of flowers. Evelyn's eyes shifted toward Jim. He had moved closer, impossibly closer. She could smell the perfume he wore, the food on his breath. She swallowed, her smile twitching. "I need to pee," she blurted out, immediately wincing at her choice of words. "Sorry. I meant that I'm going to run to the bathroom."
"Sure," Jim replied, amused. She hesitated. Her eyes flickered from his golden irises to his irresistible mouth. His tongue darted over the pillowy flesh, pink and inviting. Just as fast as it had come, it was gone. "Be right back," she told him. She snatched her phone from her bag and made her way away from the main floor.
Her stomach was alive with butterflies. Her cheeks felt feverish. She flipped open her phone as she stumbled toward the bathroom, barely sparing a glance to the path before her. Her palm met the door, shoving it open just in time for her phone to be pressed to her ear.
It rang several times. A woman was standing at the sink, washing her hands. Another seemed to be occupying a stall. She was just about to hang up when she heard the line come to life. "Payton," she blurted out, her tone tight.
"Why are you calling me?" her roommate asked, her voice laced with sleep. Evelyn winced. "Big problem," she summarized. "I've got a big problem. And I'm not sober. Not drunk, but definitely not sober."
There was rustling on the other end of the phone, followed by the sound of a switch. "What kind of problem? Guy problem?" She made a noise of confirmation, pressing her clammy palm to her face. She filed into the very last stall and used her foot to tug the stall door closed. She locked it right after.
"Spill," Payton demanded, her voice gentle. Evelyn leaned against the tiled wall. The tiles felt cool against her burning skin. "It's Jim," she admitted. "I want to kiss him."
She felt like she was regressing. Sure, years ago she had a crush on him. It was normal. He was nice to her, and funny. And he made her feel welcome. But then their friendship grew rather than a relationship, and she decided it was time to move on. She thought she had, despite those tiny moments. She had fooled herself quite well until that very moment. God, did she want to kiss him.
"I should go home," she blurted out. "It's the alcohol. I'm just drunk." Payton sighed. Evelyn's mouth clamped shut. "Don't let a guy ruin your night," she said. "Have some more to drink, or don't. Order some food and then go home. It'll all work out."
Evelyn's teeth worried her bottom lip. Her eyes darted from the small chip in the paint to the small break in the door. She spotted the woman at the sink grabbing a few pieces of paper towel to dry her hands. "Okay," she exhaled. Her nerves still felt alive, buzzing soundly beneath her clammy skin. "Okay, yeah. I should just chill out."
"Let fate run its course," Payton said. A shiver escalated up the brunette's spin. "Let fate run its course," she echoed. Unconsciously, the corners of her lips began to twitch up into a smile. "Thanks, Pay. I'm sorry about waking you up."
The girl on the other end scoffed. "Only twenty minutes before my alarm," she teased. "It's all good. I need to check up on some patients, 'kay? Feeling better?"
"Thanks to you," Evelyn exhaled. Her words seemed to be enough to satiate her roommate right then. "Good. Talk to you later." The two exchanged their goodbyes before Evelyn closed her phone. With a sharp inhale, she unlocked her stall and slipped out. Despite her lack of using the toilet, she still decided to wash her hands of the remnants of the bathroom stall.
"Let fate run its course," she whispered. "Let fate run its course."
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"There she is," Jim said, smiling over at his approaching best friend. She grinned over at him, stopping a waitress on her way back to the kitchen. "Hi," she greeted the woman sweetly. "Could I get another drink? Beer, please." The waitress nodded her head, slipping away to do what she needed to do.
"What did I miss?" she asked, slipping back into her seat. She wasted no time in swinging back the remnants of her last drink, swallowing it with a grimace. Jim sighed. "Well, um, Angela got the Tightest Ass Award. And Kelly... got the Spicy Curry Award," he recited. His lips pressed together in a painfully forced smile. Evelyn winced.
She shook her head in disappointment. "Typical," she huffed. She leaned back into her chain, arms crossing over her stomach. One leg was thrown over the other, her skin shimmering with sweat. Jim mirrored her stance, turning to watch Dwight fiddle with his keyboard.
"You okay?" he asked, turning back to the brunette, a sliver of worry pressed between his brows. She glanced toward him, face soft. "Yeah," she replied, "I'm fine." His head cocked to the left, arms tightening around his chest. She smiled, her own brows furrowing over her eyes. "What?" she asked. "Why're you analyzing me like we're in a CSI episode?"
He snorted a laugh. His face flushed in embarrassment. "I'm not," he argued, his broad shoulders moving in a lazy shrug. "I just don't believe you. Something's up with you."
"No," she replied. "I'm peachy keen. Stop acting like I'm a book and enjoy the evening." The waitress returned, setting another glass of foaming beer before Evelyn. The brunette thanked her with a smile. "Fine," Jim exhaled. "I'm sorry. I won't pry."
Her twitching fingers circled the glass. It felt cold to the touch. She sighed, tightening her grip and taking a large gulp from the liquid. Dwight sat back once the music began with a satisfied smile. Michael jogged back out there, his bowtie unclasped and hanging to one side. Evelyn couldn't help but smile.
She recognized the tune almost immediately. Tiny Dancer by Elton John, one of her mother's favorites. She glanced toward Jim with a look of amusement clear on her features. "My mom loves this song," she told him, her head shaking. Jim felt his chest warm. An idea suddenly popped into his head.
Along with Elton, Jim began to sing. "Blue-jean baby. L.A. lady. Seamstress for the band." Evelyn sat there, mouth agape, eyes twinkling. "Pretty-eyed. Pirate smile. You'll marry a music man."
"Ballerina," Evelyn joined in, her voice surprising Jim. "You must've seen her. Dancing in the sand. And now she's in me. Always with me." She snorted, breaking out into a fit of giggles. Jim couldn't stop his own laughter from spilling out. He wasn't sure what exactly was making him feel so warm. Was it her laugh? Her smile? The alcohol filling his veins?
Her palm met his arm. Gooseflesh pimpled across his skin. Slow movements of fingers dancing across his shirt sleeve until her palm kissed his. He wrapped his fingers around her hand with a big smile, their fingers interlocking. "Turning back," he continued, catching up to the song, "She just laughs. The boulevard is not that bad."
She watched his mouth wrap around his words. They were wet and shining under the low light. Her head felt foggy. Her skin felt tingly. With her free hand, she reached for her drink. Her mouth felt entirely too dry.
Jim sighed, turning to face Michael and Dwight with heavy breaths. The bespectacled man swayed to the music, his eyes closed as he digested the song. He remembered just how he did that with Miki Matsubara.
Michael hummed along to the song. He must not have known the words, or perhaps it was that he was trying to memorize his own version of the lyrics. Either way, it was entertaining to watch. "Oh, God," Evelyn suddenly muttered. "He's going to butcher Elton John."
"Yeah," Jim agreed. His hand was starting to get clammy. Silently, he glanced down at their conjoined hands. They'd held hands before. Plenty of times, actually, but this felt so different than those. It wasn't because she felt nervous, or as a prank on Dwight. It wasn't even unconsciously. She had grabbed his hand. And she was holding it just as much as he was, and it was invigorating.
"You have won a tiny Dundie," Michael sang along to the song, albeit off key. Evelyn grimaced, but didn't seem too bothered. A cheer suddenly erupted from the bar not too far from them. "Sing it, Elton!" a guy exclaimed sarcastically. Instinctively, Jim and Evelyn's heads snapped toward the sound.
Michael seemed flustered. His breath hit the microphone, a snort leaving his nose. "Thanks, guys." He glanced toward the group of what appeared to be college students. "Hey, where are you guys from?"
"We just came from your mama's house," the other replied. Evelyn's mouth fell into a pout. Michael laughed awkwardly. He may be oblivious at some times, but he seemed to notice what was going on now. "Sing another song, dude."
"Uh, you know what, guys? We're just having a little office party. So, if you wanna—" Suddenly, a lemon was thrown. Jim's eyes widened in surprise. "Hey! You know, cool it, guys. Really."
Something hit Michael, liquid flying from the object. He looked stunned. Evelyn, feeling a newfound rage due to those assholes and the alcohol fueling her system, squeezed tight against Jim's hands. "You suck, man."
"Not as bad as your mother!" she fired back. Everyone fell silent. Michael's attention turned toward Evelyn, surprise present on his features. There was a chuckle at the bar. Apparently one of his friends thought she was funny. Choosing to drop it, those guys left them alone. However, the damage was done.
Michael turned to Dwight and waved his hand next to his throat. He turned to his employees solemnly. "I had a few more Dundies to give out tonight. But I'm just gonna cut it short. And wrap it up, so everybody can enjoy their food. Um, thanks for listening, those of you who listened."
The anger felt hot in her stomach. She threw a sharp glare to the bar. "This last Dundie is for Kevin. This is the Don't Go In There After Me award. It's for the time that I went into the bathroom after him, and it was really, really smelly."
It felt weird to hear Michael Scott so lifeless. He didn't even ask Kevin to come down. Instead, he took the small trophy to him. "We should do something," Evelyn whispered, leaning toward Jim. He could feel her body heat through their sleeves. He turned to face her, curiosity filling his eyes.
"Like what?" he asked. Their faces were inches apart. When had their chairs gotten so close? She blinked. "Uh..." Slowly, hesitantly, she pulled her hand free from his. She began to applaud Kevin, eyes wide. Jim joined her. "Go, Kevin!" she cheered, mouth curling into a smile. "Yeah, Kevin!" Jim shouted with a slight tremble to his voice.
One by one, the rest of Dunder Mifflin chimed in. Their applause grew in volume. She beamed, clearly satisfied. "Oh! Michael, Jim hasn't gotten an award!" she announced. The sandy haired man shook his head. "It's true. I haven't."
"More Dundies!" Evelyn exclaimed. Jim had to pause to giggle. "Dundies! Dundies! Dundies!" Slowly, each of the Dunder Mifflin employees began to join her chant, clapping their hands along. Michael felt his face grow hot. The edges of his mouth curled into a slight smile. "Alright," he exhaled. "Alright, okay. We'll keep rolling."
He reached for another award, reading off the title. "This is the Fine Work Award," he stated, "This goes to Stanley for all the fine work he did this year." Evelyn cheered, happily, like a child cheering for their favorite sports team. Stanley stood up, cracking a small smile.
Evelyn leaned forward onto the table, glistening eyes focused on the man. "Speech!" Jim shouted. Excitedly, she joined in. "Speech! Speech! Speech!"
Stanley took the microphone along with the small trophy. "Well," he sighed, "the last year, I got Great Work. So... I don't know what to think about this award." Evelyn's fingers pressed to her lips. A burning sensation blossomed behind her eyes. "But at least I didn't get Smelliest Bowel Movement like Kevin."
A choked giggle slipped past her smiling lips. She covered her burning face, bottom lip quivering. It had to be the alcohol. There was no way she was about to start crying after talking about Kevin's bowel movements. But, there she was, teary eyed, applauding Stanley's speech.
She slipped her hands around her drink and swallowed the rest down. Tears twinkled in her eyes like small stars. Jim, curiously, tilted his head toward the woman. "You okay?" he asked.
Softly, she sniffed. Tears began to slip down her cheeks, stained black from her mascara. "I'm fine," she replied, wiping her eyes. A giggle bubbled in her throat. "I think I'm drunk." His brows lifted in surprise. His tongue prodded at the inside of his cheek.
She leaned forward just enough to invade his space. Her breath reeked of beer. His nose scrunched up slightly. "You have a really nice smile," she stated, the tip of her finger pressing into his cheek. He scoffed. "You are drunk," he whispered. Her head slid forward, forehead grazing his chin. A soft noise of discomfort sounded from her throat.
"Let's get you some fresh air," Jim stated. "Sound good?" She nodded in response, her hands moving to take hold of his arms. He pushed his seat out of the way, feet now planted on the floor. "I think he's wrapping it up now, anyway." Gingerly, he pushed her hair away from her face before taking her cheeks in his hands.
Her eyes fluttered closed. His palms were cool against her skin. A small smile crawled across her reddened face. "It's hot," she muttered, her words barely above a whisper. Jim sighed and helped her from her chair. "Yeah, that's the alcohol."
She stumbled forward, chest falling into Jim's. His hands slipped to her waist, eyes widening in surprise. "Can you stand on your own?" he asked. She craned her head back to look up at him. "Duh," she retorted. "I'm not a child."
She steadied herself on her feet using the table, one hand brushing her hair behind her ears. Her face was scarlet. Jim grabbed her coat and her bag before looping an arm with hers. The two moved from their spot toward the entrance door.
"Tonight was fun," she exhaled, breathing the cool night air. Jim laughed. "Way better than napping on my cough to The Shining." She leaned into him, her head pressing to his shoulder. "Definitely," Jim agreed. "You would have never gotten to duet with me tonight if you had stayed home."
She shot upright, a gasp ripping from her throat. Wide, sparkling eyes met Jim's. "You're right!" she exclaimed, her hand squeezing his bicep. "Tiny Dancer! I've got to tell my mom. She'll love it."
"You talk about me with your mom?" Jim suddenly asked, surprised. She hummed in confirmation, already searching her person for her bag. "What about?" he pushed. She turned toward Jim, finally noticing the bag she had bought off of Katy hanging from his opposite arm. "Everything," she admitted.
That doesn't tell me much, he thought, but he didn't pry. "She thinks we're going to get married," Evelyn said with a snort. Once more, she rested her head against his arm. They paused just next to his car. "Really?" he replied, a sliver of a grin playing on his lips.
"Because you're Jim Halpert." Evelyn sighed. "My feet hurt." Quickly, Jim fumbled into his pockets to take out his keys. Just as he retrieved them, Evelyn had already kicked off one shoe. Now barefoot, the brunette began swaying on her legs. The tune of Tiny Dancer hummed through her body, her eyes falling closed.
"What are you doing?" Jim asked, his voice breathless. One of her hands slid down to grasp his hand. "Let's dance," she suggested, turning toward Jim. She looked up at him, her eyes all round and beautiful. He couldn't say no to her. "I'm no pro," he whispered nervously.
She guided his free hand to her waist with a smile that turned her eyes to crescent moons. His fingers squeezed her hip, tugging her ever so close. Her humming returned, just loud enough to influence their movement.
Their chests pressed together, hearts synchronized. Evelyn pressed her cheek to Jim's chest, her eyes fluttering closed. The cold air littered her legs with goosebumps. Gently, Jim began to hum along.
His cheek pressed to the top of her head and they continued to dance to their own voices under the moonlight.