Different colored minds

What about his red car

PAMELA POV

I'm sitting in math class looking at my assignment when the teacher walks up to Joe. I keep my eyes focused intensely on my paper. My heart's been beating uncomforabley fast when I'm around Joe. I know it means I like him but I don't really care about that. I don't think he and I would ever work. We're too different. I chuckle to myself as I continue writing a math problem down picturing all the ways he'd break my heart.
"Joe, I know you've been going through a lot lately. I was sorry to hear about your car but I'm happy you're safe. I know things have been rough in math and so I'm going to give you an extension. As you know there are many resources you can use on campus to help up your grades, or there are always people in your class who are willing to help. In fact," the teacher leans down to say it quietly, "Pamela here is getting an A, if anyone could help you I'm sure it's her." But that's not what I'm paying attention to. Car? Was his car the one that had a brick jammed into the windshield? But why?

"Anyways, I'm glad you're safe and i was able to help and I'll be here after class to talk to if you'd like." And with that he walks away.
Joe glances at me.
"Staring at me again I see," he mutters. I look over at him, I'm sure I'm beat red.
"Um... it's not because I... Well."
"Well what?" his hand is lazily scrolling down math problems.
"What color is your car?'
His head jerks up, his eyebrows creased.
"Why do you need to know?"
"The other day I saw someone throw a brick through a windshield, at the time I assumed the car belonged to someone I didn't know. But I was curious." There's a slight paler that comes over Joe.
"What color was the car?" He continues to write math problems down.
"Red," the pencil stops, and I notice his eyebrow lift.
"What did the guy look like?"
"Black shaggy hair, I couldn't really see his face very well. He looked oddly familiar though."
"Did that person see you?"
"What?"
"Did they know you saw what happened?"
"I don't think so."
"Good."
"Was it your car?" There's another pause.
"Was my car,"
"Was? I thought you could fix broken windows in cars,"
"It's not because of that,"
"Okay, what's up with your ride then?"
"Honestly I'm trying to focus on class work, you should be doing the same." But I can see the cogs turning behind his eyes.
"I'm not stupid you know,"
"I didn't say you were, but this is really not your business."
"Weren't you just asking me questions, this seems like an unfair trade,"
"Ha ha."
"If you tell me I'll help you with math."
"I don't need help."
"Really?"
"Yeah," he continues writing more intensely.
"Alright, have it your way." He doesn't respond, but keeps writing on his notebook.
I don't know why I'm surprised. I knew I shouldn't expect much from him. It just proves more than anything, that I need to figure out how to get over him, and fast, before I end up growing more attached. It's stupid anyways. He doesn't care. He clearly has better things to do. Or worse things.

There's this pit in my stomach that I'm being unfair. Something tells me I'm being unfair. Unfair? Me? Unfair? After I gave him an olive branch he threw it in the garbage. Why do I even have these feelings if he's this kind of asshole, I'm not stupid. So why?

It's because he saved my brother.

It's because of the times he's held the door open for me and let me hold it open for him.

It's his laugh.

It's that drive he used to have.

It's that way his eyes say he's thinking about something he's never going to say out loud.

It's the feeling that there's something in there that wants to be a good person.

It's the fraction of his soul that wants to grow.

It's the tip of his mind that wants to be honorable.

To be himself.

To say what he means.

To not hurt when he has to say hard truth.

It's the way he talks.

The way he says things.

The way he keeps going without a single complaint.

Its his drive to be different.

The grit.

The confidence.

The glow from a light that doesn't care if it's shining it's so busy in his own lane.

He's hot.

Because there's so much more to him.

He's like the ocean.

And I want to dive in.

And let him out.

The bell rings. My cheeks burn red as I let the bell ring above me. I wait until he's already left to get up. I wait until the smell of his cologne isn't in the room before I leave.

The unrequited love of Pamela.

That's what I like.

My unrequited love of this ocean.