The Scranton Branch

Part Two - Chapter 8

Part 2

Chapter Eight

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Michael won't stop talking. He's on the phone with Dwight, who was supposedly picking up ice cream Michael had asked for last night. My attempts of avoiding Jim and Karen have been successful thus far, but it was only 12pm on Monday, and my headache was beginning to become wildly bruising.

"Michael--"

He holds a finger to me and I fall silent once more, sighing and glancing down at the stack of papers in my hands. Sometimes I wonder if he is pretending to be on the phone as to avoid other work responsibilities. In fact, I probably didn't need to think too hard about that. He'd come up with any excuse to get out of work.

There's a knock on the door and then Jim's lengthy figure leaning against the frame. Our eyes meet and he gives me a lazy-Jim smile. I fail to return the gesture.

When I said I've been successful in not seeing him, I really mean I haven't made physical contact with him since Friday night. I even went to the gym Sunday evening before he was home from dinner with his parents, and have been eating junk food to avoid walking through the apartment to the kitchen. Though it made me sad I was willingly not seeing my good friend and who I've convinced myself was the love of my life, I knew Jim would try to make awkward conversation about what went down with Karen. Or even worse, would try to ask me why I acted the way I did. And then mention how Karen felt about it all--which I could care less about.

Jim makes a throaty noise, but Michael gives him the Silent Finger too. I stand and throw the papers on Michael's desk, sick of him ignoring me for the past ten minutes, and turn, roughly bumping into Jim and heading to my own desk. As I cascade into my seat, the beautiful Karen Filippelli is sitting on the corner, waiting like a predator for it's helpless prey. I groan subconsciously, pretending not to see her as I organize the two papers on my desk.

Karen clears her throat and I smile painfully at her tan face.

"Hi Karen," I say, voice surprisingly cheerful. She blinks and then smiles back.

"Hi, um, do you have a second?"

My stomach sinks. I would never pin Karen as unprofessional, coming to a "higher-up" in the middle of the workday to talk about her relationship. Regardless, I nod and continue to fake-smile.

"It's about Friday night, when I came over," her eyes glance over my head, to whom I assume is Jim coming out of Michael's office. My throat clenches but I keep my eyes trained on the Italian woman. When her gaze finds mine again, she looks deflated and tired. There are noticeable dark bags under her eyes and her makeup doesn't seem right either. I blink, a little shocked to see her looking distraught.

"Anyways, I just wanted to talk about Friday night, that's all." She finishes and waits for me to say something. Though my stomach is full of anxiety, I maintain a serious composure and shrug, glancing over my desk casually.

"I have nothing to say."

"Are you sure? You were a little drunk," she whisper-shouts the last word without hesitation, and it causes Ryan and Phyllis to look over at us. I narrow my eyes at her and see her barely-there smirk. So her plan was to try and embarrass me in front of the entire office? Jokes on her, Michael is one of the biggest embarrassments this office has seen, and Meredith could easily beat any of us in a drinking competition, with no surprise from anyone. I didn't want to even have to think about it but...she's a bitch.

"No, I wasn't, actually," I say in a matter-of-fact tone. She plays it off, looking surprised, crunching up her face and looking over my head again.