Chapter Eight

It was something he never expected. He missed his old life.

Jim. C'mon now. Be honest. It's not your old life you miss - it's…simply…

HER.

He looks up every five minutes expecting to see her face - but all he sees is Margaret, the grandmotherly looking woman from Quality Control who sits at the cube across from him.

There were days when he just expected to see her rounding the corner or in the break room or…anywhere.

He wanted to just see her…for like…five seconds.

Yeah, right. Like five seconds would be nearly enough.

Overwhelmed, he starts to type an email but he stops just short. He can't imagine how to begin.

Hey. What's new?

Way too casual.

Maybe he should send her a card or something. Does Hallmark even have cards for that? As he thinks it he can picture one in his mind.

Sorry to hear you won't tie the knot…

Mind if I tell you that you're hot?

He's ashamed that type of rhyme is even something he could imagine. Wow. That's not cheesy…AT ALL.

There's no hope of any work getting done, and he's filled his quota for the day anyway. Jim continues to daydream, leaning back in his chair and picturing in his mind what it would be like when he finally saw her again.

It would be late. Definitely after work. He'd shuffle, head down towards his lonely apartment and see her, slumped against his door, her legs crossed at the ankles and her keds white as ever.

Her head would be down and she'd be fiddling with her necklace. She used to fiddle with her ring but her left hand was bare now.

And, knowing that fact, relishing in it, he would smile widely as he walked towards her.

"The sign downstairs says no loitering." He'd whisper.

She'd look up, as if she's the one who should be surprised. She would take a deep breath and reply. "No. It says 'no soliciting'."

And he'd nod his head to concede her point. "OK then. Loiter away."

He'd hold his hand out to her, and as she took it a jolt would charge straight up his arm, making him shiver a bit.

He'd be holding Pam's hand. Her left hand. The one conspicuously bare ring finger.

She'd stumble a bit as she rose to her feet, swaying into him and his arms would catch her.

She'd look up at him, her tongue would dart out to wet her lips and his stomach would fall to the floor.

"You forgot something in Scranton." She would whisper as she'd rise on her toes and place her hands on his shoulders.

"What's that?" He'd manage to croak out as he swallowed the lump that suddenly would find it's way to his throat.

"Me." She'd say as she'd touch her mouth to his.

He'd fumble with his keys but finally get the door open and he'd drag her towards the bedroom, not caring that it was the day before he'd planned to wash his sheets.

His hands would span her waist, his fingers slipping up and under the hem of her shirt and her hands would be tugging at his tie, pulling him down as they tumble together onto his bed.

She'd laugh they fell, and laugh harder when he'd bump his head against hers clumsily. And while she's laughing he'd press his lips to hers again as her hands…

His phone is ringing. As difficult as it is for him to shake the image from his mind he finds himself blindly grasping for the phone.

He sighs as he answers it, not at all interested in talking to who's on the other end. Who were you kidding? This whole waiting thing? Not going to be quite as easy as you thought.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

She was lucky that she had so much downtime.

It was amazing how willing people were to help her out, now that she and Roy were over. Even Angela seemed to be sympathetic.

That would change. The minute she found out about her feelings for Jim she'd be looking at her disapprovingly.

She'd look at her as if to say - Cheating on your fiance? I always knew you were a hussy.

As if she had a right to talk. It was completely ironic that the real "secret" office romance was Angela and Dwight. She shivered just thinking about it. Dwight. Of all people.

They were actually perfect for one another. Both of them were beyond quirky and lacking fundamental interpersonal skills.

She knew she should call him, or email him, or something.

She reached into her file drawer and dug out her sketch pad. Michael had a lunch date with Carol so it was blessedly quiet. Honestly with both him and Jim absent the office functioned as an almost normal place of business.

Then again, there was always Dwight, she thought as the watched him manically measuring manila folders. He was convinced the latest shipment was a half an inch short.

Some things never changed at all.

Her hand began to move over the paper and she realized she was drawing his desk. It was eerily the same. She knew that night he'd taken almost nothing with him but she noticed his pictures were gone. Someone must have taken them from his desk and sent them to him.

His desk. She sighed. Her hand stilled as she remembered the last time she'd stopped by his desk.

She hadn't expected him to follow her. She thought for sure he was on his way home. And she hated that she was the reason that he'd walked away.

The night had been so perfect. When she sat across from him at the poker table she had a fleeting feeling - like they were the only two people in the world. When Roy told her he was leaving she didn't even care. She was feeling incredibly giddy and it was so nice to dress up for a change. And when Jim walked by she couldn't help but smile. He looked the same - but different.

Here she was all dressed in silk with her hair in curls and he - for once - wasn't wearing a tie. He looked casual yet dressy, like he would on a date. As she gazed up at him for a split second she'd indulged herself by thinking what it would be like to be on a date with him.

And then, he'd said it.

The words came out and ground shifted beneath her feet, the world spun. She'd looked into his eyes and simply panicked.

She'd run upstairs and found herself sitting on his desk, talking to her mother about him. Suddenly he was there. Right in front of her.

Kissing her.

She couldn't believe that it was happening. Finally. But even as she leaned closer and felt his hair slide through her fingers she felt herself pulling back.

Because the idea of finally having something she wanted terrified her completely.

The scene faded and new images flew through her mind. What if she'd never pulled back?

Her hands would have slid to the back of his neck, applying pressure to keep his mouth fused to hers. She'd have sat back on the desk and he'd have moved over her, his fingers sliding down her sides and shifting her hips.

She'd lean back, bringing him with her, knocking over his pencil cup and sending the contents sliding across the slick surface of his desk. Papers would fly.

His fingers would tug at the clip in her hair as his mouth skims her throat and she'd moan and whine a little, wanting his mouth on hers again.

Her hands would slide under his sweater, his hands would inch under her skirt and then…

The phone rings. It takes her a three rings for her to actually realize it's ringing. She presses a shaky hand to her heart as she tries to find her voice.

She sighs as she answers the phone. Who were you kidding? This whole waiting thing? Not going to be quite as easy as you thought.