She said I misinterpreted. As if that stops me from loving her.
As if that takes away the urges to grab her hand and entwine our fingers, just to see how well they would end up fitting together. I'm sure they would fit like puzzle pieces, if she just let me try.
But I know that I didn't misinterpret things. Why else would she have returned the glances and the "accidental" brushing of shoulders? Why else would she have kissed me back that night?
But things return to normal after a week or so. We pretend like nothing ever happened, and we eat lunch together. We go out and get drinks when she and Roy fight, and we mess around with Dwight.
I don't know how to describe it. It's beyond words what I feel when I'm around her. I need to hold her in my arms, even if its just for a second. I need to see her smile or hear her laugh, and if I don't then I feel like I'm going to explode. Sometimes I bump into her or elbow her playfully just so I can touch her and be satisfied for a couple of minutes.
One night Roy gets mad while he's drunk and she calls me. I can hear the echo of the bathroom and Roy slamming around in the background, and she doesn't even need to say anything before I drive over and pick her up.
Her face is wet from the salty tears and she's shaking. My heart physically feels like it's being squeezed as I drive to the bar.
I'm about to climb out of the car when she calls my name and puts an arm on my shoulder. I can't help but smile.
"Yeah?" I glance back at her.
"Can we just talk for a little bit?" She asks, and I know she wants to tell me what happened with Roy. I nod and lower myself onto the drivers seat. I wait while she stops crying and gathers her thoughts.
"He's so stupid." She murmurs, and I nod sardonically in agreement.
"Tell me something I don't know." I say to her and she gives me a look, so I shut up.
"He came home drunk from hanging out with Derryl, and then he complained about how I didn't have dinner for him when he got home. I had figured he'd already eaten and that he would just come home and go to sleep, but he said he was hungry still. Then he got onto the topic that I think was really bugging him, which is how you and I hang out more often than we do, and I told him it was because he's always gone. But he said no and started getting angry about how he thinks we have a thing for each-other. He started being all noisy, slamming doors and whatnot and I just sat on the couch while he yelled." She paused and looked at me with teary eyes.
"What did he do to you?" I know something is wrong with the look that she gave me.
"Jim. Don't." She warns, but by that time I'm already pulling out of the parking lot fuming.
"Jim stop, please! Just stay in here, if you get hurt I don't know what I'll do. He's a lot bigger than you, and he's drunk, and angry. So just stay here. It wasn't that big of a thing anyway. Just a small…smack." I pull over on the side of the road and look at her desperately.
"Please." She pleads and I can't help but give in, thinking that I'll make him pay for hurting her later.
"God, Pam." I gather her in my arms and hold her while she's shaking. I'm in an uncomfortable position, with the stick-shift digging into my ribs, but I don't move. I can't move. I won't.
She sobs in my arms and I kiss the top of her head while soothing her and telling her it will be alright. When she calms down she pulls away and brushes hair out of her face. My hand lingers on hers, but I don't lace our fingers together like I had wanted to so many times.
The next morning I wake up on the couch to the sound of Pam grabbing stuff from the pantry and making her breakfast. By the time I'm up and in the kitchen with her she has a bowl full of cereal sitting in front of her.
I look at her.
"You know you have to leave him right?" She nods.
"You can stay with me." I offer and she nods again. I sit down next to her and glance at her hand. She notices because she takes mine in hers and meshes our fingers together, making them fit like a perfect puzzle would.