IN THE SPIRIT OF THE SEASON

"Happy Valentine's Day"

I never learn. He invited me to the Valentine's Day dance, but it turns out it was another pre-fab double date. He brought the blonde temptress and stuck me with Don Knotts. The goofy sidekick. I guess that's all we are to him: the entertainment sideshow.

But he's not getting off easy. Uh uh. Not this time. I lead Pacey out onto the dance floor and, surprising even myself, pull him in close enough to smell his cologne. Actually, it smells…good. What fragrance is that? He didn't buy this in a bargain basement; this one has pedigree. I'm thinking Ralph Lauren or something.

What do you know? Pacey Witter has better taste than I thought he did. Except for that godawful red shirt. Could've done without that optical effect.

"So what are we doing here, Jo?"

"Compensating."

"Pissed off much?"

"Very."

He throws me into a dip and neatly pulls me back. I look into his eyes and inexplicably shiver at their astonishing depth. What secrets are lurking in there?

I see Dawson watching us and decide to turn up the heat. I nuzzle Pacey's cheek and, surprisingly, I like it there. The next thing I know, I'm planting butterfly kisses, sweet little ruby red pecks down his neck—and I like that, too.

"Jo?" he says. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"Probably not," I agree. I look at his full lips through half-lidded eyes. Do I dare? "Pacey…"

"Joey, stop!"

I look up in horror. Was that Pacey or Dawson who interrupted the moment? My eyes dart back and forth between them and I can't tell. It doesn't matter 'cuz the utter humiliation is coloring my cheeks a nice shade of crimson. I run out of the gym as swiftly as my size 8 feet will take me.

One boy follows. "Joey? What's gotten into you tonight? Are you okay?"

My eyes are brimming with tears but, for some reason, hearing Pacey's voice makes me feel calmer. What's happening here?

"Nothing. Strike one for the hormonally-challenged. I'm sorry, Pace. I just can't watch him parade her around like I don't matter. He takes too much for granted."

"Ah, a disquieting attack of killer teen hormones. Feelings of social inadequacy and general 'how-do-I-measure-up' insecurity about…"

"The Buxom Blonde from Beekman Place."

Pacey moves in closer, nearly pining me against one of the lockers. "Jen is the least of your worries."

"What do you…"

He captures my smudged red lips with his glossed ones, sliding across mine with sensuous ease. I am amazed we never tried this before. He tastes so good. He feels so good. He takes his time as we both warm up to the kiss, which is growing more and more passionate as the seconds tick by.

"Pacey," I whimper. I can't help it. I am so unbelievably turned on. I open my eyes and readjust to the light. I had forgotten we were in a school hallway. Now is not the time to show him what I'm thinking.

"Should we take this somewhere else?" he asks, seeming to intuit my furtive desire. When did he get to be so smart?

"Mmm hmm," I murmur softly—too shy for my own good, if you ask me. Especially considering what we just did!

Our arms wrapped around each other, my head resting against his shoulder, we bounce down the hall to make a quick escape…and are confronted by Dawson and his silver disco shirt before we reach the door.

"Jo…"

"See ya later, Dawson!" I declare enthusiastically—damn, almost merrily. Can that possibly be me?

"Joey?"

"I'm taking her home," Pacey says, opening the door.

I can't help smiling. That perturbed look on Dawson's face is classic. "We're not really going home," I inquire, hopeful, as I slide across the front seat of the Witter Wagoneer.

"Eventually," Pacey replies with a wicked grin.

zzzzzzzzzzz

"Take this off," I tell her. I can't believe we're actually doing this. I drove as far as the Ice House before Joey showed me a discreet parking place in the alley which, incidentally, has a decent view of the creek.

The scenery is mere cosmetics; she is the real thing.

She looks at me, unsure. "I meant the necklace," I say, gently touching her hand. She reaches back for the clasp and the beads have no sooner slipped into obscurity than I am greedily plundering the sensitive skin under her ear and down her neck to the red satin neckline of her dress. I can't believe how much she is turning me on…how much I am turning her on.

"Mmmmm. You taste so sweet."

"Brown sugar and vanilla," she pants, threading her fingers through my hair.

"Really. So tasting Joey Potter has nutritional benefits as well."

"Shut up!" she giggles. Does she even know how sexy she is? I am determined to tell her in actions as well as words. But right now she is drawing me back to her lips. Hungry lips that seem to savor everything.

"Oh God, Jo. Why didn't we do this before?" I query against her luscious mouth.

"I don't know, Pacey. I don't know."

zzzzzzzzzzz

I hear the humming of the dryer and a clatter of pans, but all I can focus on is the large cup of black coffee in front of me.

"Joey, is something wrong?" Bessie asks.

"No. Why?"

"You're up early and you woke up smiling. You never wake up smiling."

"So?"

"Where's the barely-awake demeanor, the morning Potter pout? Either I'm misinterpreting grouchy indigestion for a smile or…" She looks at me suspiciously.

"Or what?"

"Somebody got lucky last night."

Some bodies did. Crap. I'm busted for sure. Let's give the senior Potter a round of applause for her spot-on sleuthing. But I'm not saying anything. I just smile.

"You did, didn't you? You and Dawson finally…"

"Hold it. Dawson and I didn't do anything."

"You didn't?"

"No!" That was perhaps a bit too adamant. Try calming down for a second. She doesn't know as much as she thinks she does. There's a knock at the door and I use it as an excuse to slip away from the table.

"Hello, beautiful," he says, and I melt into a pool of goo in a matter of seconds. My voice becomes tiny tot small as I try to force out a reciprocal greeting.

"Hi," I gush. I have absolutely no control over anything in the mind, body or soul department. I feel tremendous waves of energy bouncing between us. It's like being hit by sonar. I'm drawn in by the current and the next thing I know I'm kissing Pacey Witter. Again.

"P-Pacey?" Bessie stutters, dumbfounded.

"Mmmm mmmm…Hi, Bess," he chokes out, miraculously maintaining the contact between us. "We should…go," he growls, softly. That was meant just for me.

" 'K," I whisper on a sigh. If I cared about anything else, I would be embarrassed that I just did that—in front of my sister!—but instead I take his face in my hands for one last sweep of our lips. Pacey grabs my backpack and we stagger out the door.

"Joey?" Bessie calls out in amazement.

"Later, Bess," I toss back. I can't be bothered to shout, certainly not anything more than a couple of nonsensical syllables. Not when he just took my hand in his, entwining our fingers, and I feel my whole body light up.

Like last night.

"So, Jo, I guess we should talk."

I withdraw my hand. "About what?" I reply, instantly wary, already in defense mode and determined to limit the predictable fallout.

"About this," he says, pulling me aside and depositing a generous kiss on my lips. He's so tender I want to cry. How can anything feel this good?

Like last night.

"What do we have to talk about?" I ask, easily shifting gears back. I am oblivious to everything except the sound of his voice, the sensation of his body tacitly pressed against mine.

Like last night.

"Is this going to be a problem for you?"

Kissing him? Holding him? What?

"Seeing Dawson," he clarifies, forcing both of us back into reality.

Oh yeah, him. I almost forgot about that. Block complex relationships, especially quasi-romantic ones, out. "Is it going to be a problem for you?" I respond.

He puts his head down. He's thinking much too hard about it. But then he gazes up at me and his eyes reveal everything. "Nope," he says, grinning slyly. "You?"

"No. Not at all." I smile back. I have to stop this, my face is beginning to hurt.

"Excellent. So then, Miss Potter, shall we proceed to our institution of higher learning?" he asks, putting my arm around his as we begin walking again.

"And that would be?" I retort, leaning into him and nearly catapulting both of us back off the road. He hip-checks me in retaliation.

"Capeside High, little lassie. Capeside High."

zzzzzzzzzzz

I spot Jen first. That means Dawson can't be far behind. Jen gives me a worried, quizzical look—I guess Dawson didn't tell her. Maybe he thought he could will it away, will us away. Fat chance. We've been his toy soldiers long enough.

Joey squeezes my hand and I know she's found him in the crowd, passing out casting flyers around the commons. "Do you think if I jump you right here he'll go away?" she murmurs in my ear. My hairs are standing on end.

"It will certainly get his attention."

"Pacey?"

"Yeah?"

"Happy Valentine's Day," she says, pushing me down on to the bench while she showers me with kisses—right cheek, left ear, chin…upper lip, lower lip, side…and then deliciously in reverse. Each and every meeting of her lips against mine is a certifiable heartstopper.

I could get used to this.

Coming soon: 4th of July