A Collection of Imagines

John

Why do I care?

She's asleep. How long has she been asleep? I was just talking to her. Oh my god, she fell asleep when I was switching the radio station and talking about the sky hopefully clearing up. I look back at her after turning on the windshield wipers. Her body is curled up. Her legs bent into her chest as her whole body leans against the door. Her hair pulled into a messy bun with some strands falling over her face. I mean I have to give it to her. We had a long day at the shoot. I know now why she didn't want to drive. God, she would have fallen asleep at the wheel. I drive at speed with the rain pattering against the roof of the pickup truck. I look back at her again. Still sound asleep. I move to turn the radio off. It clicks loudly and my stomach jumps. I glance at her and I relieved that she's still asleep. I sigh out. God, what is it with me and this woman? Why do I care if she's asleep or not? Why do I care if she had enough to eat during the day? Why do I care if she answered a call from her boyfriend? ... oh come on, John. You know the answer to those questions. You knew the second she came on set and introduced herself with a firm handshake. You knew when she told you that she was a big fan of the Office. You knew when she laughed at your newly found inside joke. Checkered pants. An inside joke that you would like to keep to yourself. A bang of guilt goes off in my gut. I have a wife. A woman that's not her. She has a boyfriend. A man who's not me. I grip the steering wheel tighter at my own thoughts. Oh, how much I want to tell her. To yell at her about what I'm feeling for her. I want to take her away from here. Just the two of us. In the wilderness somewhere. For two weeks or so. I don't think we would get out much. I would beg her to stay in bed with me the whole day. The sun would peek through the glass window of the master bedroom, making her look radiant in the light. I would pull her in by her arm. She would laugh at me and call me lazy before resting her head on my chest while bringing the thin sheet up to cover our bare bodies. I smile at the facade. My hand goes up to fix my baseball cap, before turning to her again. She still hasn't moved. I look back at the now wet road in front of me. I would give anything right now to reach over and touch her. To run my knuckle down her arm and have her not notice. To know what it feels like to hold her hand. To know what it feels like to have her lips on mine. I mentally slap myself. You already know what that feels like. That whole day was amazing until right about the end of it. We had a scene where our characters figure out that they're in love with each other. She runs through a lush forest to jump into my arms and places a passionate kiss on my mouth. She wanted multiple takes and I was sure as hell not complaining. I must have gotten to taste her like 7 times before our director said it was enough. To be completely honest, she's intoxicating and I'm pretty sure that I'm hooked. We had a break shortly after that. We went into the break room and ate a few snacks. At one point, I threw a singular grape at her. Eventually, we ended up throwing grapes at each other from all corners of that room. God, how she would squeal and laugh at the top of her lungs. It's contagious. It was like heaven until her boyfriend came in. She was surprisingly shocked and I was severally annoyed. The look on his face made me want to punch him. He was analyzing the scene in front of him with this complete douche bag look on his face. What an asshole. She took his hand into hers as she greeted him with a bright smile on her face. But I noticed something. It wasn't as bright as the smile she had a minute ago with me. There it was. That little glimmer of hope. Hope for me. Hope for us. I slow to a stop in front of a red traffic light. It's really late. That's why there are no other cars on the road. That's why it's so quiet. That's why all I can hear is her steady breathing. She shifts suddenly. My eyes immediately go to her at the movement. Her arms move closer to her. She's cold. I quickly put the truck in park and take off my seat belt, not thinking as I take off my jacket. I carefully drape it over her small, frail body. I panic as the heavy material creates a loud ruffling noise. However, she doesn't budge. I sink back into my seat as I lean against the door. I watch her breathe go slowly in and out. God, what am I thinking? She could never be mine. She would never call me hers. We have our own people for that. If I tell her how I feel, I know she'll reject me. I couldn't live with that. How could I? I look up at the ceiling, trying to suppress the amount of tears that are flooding my eyes. Stop crying, man. You never had a shot to begin with. I look back at her sleepy body. "If only you knew, Checkered Pants," I say to the void quietly. I move to sit properly in my seat and pull the seat belt over me. I put the car out of park and drive on, looking both ways before crossing the intersection. I press my thumb against my eye, trying to stop a tear from falling. She could never know. No one should ever know. No one should know that I'm secretly in love with my younger costar. Woah. In love? I laugh at myself. Smiling down at the steering wheel. Yeah, I'm in love with her.

If only you knew, John Krasinski.