She’s taken to a band called the Plain White T’s, and she paints a lot while listening to them. She’s even started hiding her ear buds under her hair while at work, plugged into her computer. She has to race for the pause button whenever Michael comes near, but other than that, no problems.
It’s been two weeks since her party. Jim hasn’t said a single word to her. Not one.
Fine, run away, you coward! She screams at the back of his head. She wants to be done with this – with him – so badly. So fucking badly.
Phyllis has stopped telling Jim anything; "If you want to know so bad, ask her yourself." Everyone heard or saw what happened at the party.
Pam guesses he doesn’t want to know so badly.
On a particularly slow Tuesday (she still hates them), she decides to hell with it, and takes her iPod into the kitchen with her while she goes to make herself a cup of tea. Nobody says anything, if anyone noticed in the first place.
Except him. He always notices.
It’s kind of creepy, anymore. Not kind of. It’s just plain fucking creepy.
Creepier when he follows her in there. Creepier when he taps her on the shoulder, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin.
She yanks the headphones from her ears and wraps the wire around her iPod, staring at him, daring him to speak first.
He just stares. He stares for a good minute, while her water’s heating up, and she just stares back. She’s not speaking first. She refuses to think the puppy-dog eyes and changes in expression mean anything. She knows better, deep down; but to think he still has that power over her makes her want to die.
"Pam," he starts, but her pot whistles and interrupts his whole thought process. She turns her back to him, focusing all her attention on her teapot, and putting all her strength into not crying.
"Pam." It's nearly a command.
"Yeah?" She asks, stirring her cup. She looks up at him, casually, as she turns around and then tries to fixate herself on her drink.
Maybe if I spiked it, I'd be able to focus a little more on it.
"I'm...The party. I'm...It was...I'm sorry." He whispers the last part.
"Um, don't be? We all had a great time. I mean, yeah. Don't be, Jim. It got better, after you left, you know." She walks away from him, but nods her head towards the office area, and he follows her back into the land of the slightly insane. "Kelly did a really...Unique...Version of The Warrior. You know. Cheesy, 80's, totally not something you'd expect her to know." Before she realizes it, she's led him straight to her desk. He's leaning on her counter, munching on some M&Ms (she got more visits from Kevin than Jim - why not?). "She was pretty drunk, though..." She sits down.
"Sorry I missed it," he whispers. His eyes grow dark, and he suddenly looks enraged.
Taken aback, she turns to her screen. "I've gotta..." She points to the screen. "Michael, corporate, you know."
"Yeah, yeah, no. Sure."
She turns her computer on for the first time that day and tries to think past what the hell he could be angry at her for.
