He glanced over to her for the third time in—what, a minute now—and allowed his eyes to linger just slightly longer than usual. Her face was tense as she spoke on the phone and without his knowledge, his body echoed that, his shoulders rising, jaw clenching with a mixture of empathy and jealousy. He wondered who she was talking to, who was making her so upset.
"We'll talk about it when I get home, Roy."
Roy, of course. Part of him knew that. He experienced a peculiar joy at this latest example of how very wrong Roy was for her, then chastised himself for feeling that way. When she hung up the phone, she looked over at him, and he could only smile weakly, sympathetically. But he didn't go to her desk to comfort her even though his entire core burned to do so. It seemed wrong, somehow. He almost couldn't give her advice anymore, because everything he said had begun to drip with his own desire for her to end the engagement, and that wasn't right. He was biased.
Pam was beside him suddenly. "Want to go out for lunch?"
His eyebrows arched. An unspoken question about her regular lunch partner hung in the air, and he wondered whether he should pretend that he hadn't heard her heated phone discussion.
"I—need some time away from here today. Besides," she laughed nervously. "I'm in the mood for something other than a sandwich."
"Hey," he said, standing and smiling. "Don't knock the sandwich. The sandwich has gotten me through almost every lunch hour in the past three years."
She rolled her eyes. "I know. God, you're dumb." She went to get her coat from behind her desk. "Ready?"
-------------------------------They didn't go to Chili's—they'd had enough of it to last quite a long time anyway, and Pam wasn't really allowed there anymore.
"If we really wanted Chili's, I'd be willing to risk the horrible consequences of sneaking in and getting caught," she said, leaning back against the passenger seat of Jim's car. "I mean, what are the odds they'd recognize me from my driver's license photo? It's at least five years old, and I'm wearing glasses in it anyway."
"Lemme see."
She started to refuse, then reached for her purse and took it out, handed it to him. He smiled at it a little too fondly, looked at it a little too long, and that made her nervous. She yanked it back with a shaky laugh. "Pretty dorky, huh?"
"You look…nice in glasses." Nice. That's a good, innocuous verb.
"Um, so, anyway, they wouldn't recognize me, I bet…if we wanted to go."
"But we don't, right?"
She shook her head. "Naah. What do you think they'd do to me anyway? You know, if they caught me."
"I don't know. Death row, probably." He shrugged. "Or maybe just a fine."
She giggled. "Yeah, I think that's more likely."
They smiled at each other for a moment before Jim cleared his throat.
"Anyway. Where do we want to go?"
She glanced at her watch. "We're running out of time. Let's just try that new place down the road."
"'Kay." He started the car and she found herself studying his forearm as he turned the key, the skin left uncovered by his just barely rolled-up sleeves. It looked soft, and his muscles moved slightly, smoothly. Then Roy's arms entered her mind, just slightly too pudgy and too hairy for her tastes. She'd always liked men's arms…
Her heart jumped and she looked quickly at her shoes, trying to focus on how white they were and how clean she kept them. That led her to more thoughts she knew she shouldn't have, thoughts of the Dundies and her award and how she'd hugged everyone. You didn't just hug everyone, you know. There's a certain someone you didn't just—
Her own voice broke her reverie as she forced out the first words that came to mind. "I hope this place is good."
"Huh? Oh, yeah."
Pam smiled inwardly. Looks like I wasn't the only one lost in thought. She didn't allow herself to wonder what he was thinking about. The bland scenery of Scranton sped by for a scant few minutes before Jim pulled into the parking lot of the new restaurant.
"Looks pretty empty in there," he said.
"Looks pretty closed in there," Pam corrected. She turned in her seat. "I'm sorry. I thought I saw a 'Now Open' sign this morning."
"Don't worry about it." He leaned back. "Now what? We've got…half an hour left."
She bit her lips. "I'm not really hungry anyway."
"Me either," he lied.
They sat in silence, their usual flow of conversation blocked by words they could not say. The next time Jim looked over at her, her chin was trembling and he wasn't sure why.
"Pam," he whispered. He placed his hand on her shoulder with as much pressure as he dared. She shook her head, kept her eyes on her lap. "Pam, what's wrong?"
"Plenty," she croaked. She looked up at Jim, her eyes wide and surprised at the broken sound of her own voice, and burst into tears.
He held her while she sobbed, hating her pain but loving the way she felt in his arms. His face fell forward into her hair and he didn't stop himself from breathing in deeply, relishing her scent. "It's okay…it's okay."
It wasn't, of course.
"He isn't right for me, Jim, he isn't! He's very, very wrong!" Her sobs were muffled in the fabric of his shirt, her tears beginning to soak through to the skin.
"Yes, he is." He was amazed at how level he sounded, how calm.
She looked up at him suddenly, eyes wild and pleading. "Don't let me marry him. Please don't let me marry him." In a few minutes she knew she would regain composure and pretend it had never happened; she'd pretend it was cold feet and pre-wedding day jitters, and she'd be trapped again.
He took her shoulders and held her with firm hands, staring directly into her eyes. "I won't let you marry him, Pam."
She collapsed in his arms, leaning in the awkward position the car allowed for, and felt her soul refilling her body. "Thank you," she murmured.