I always wondered how readers would respond if they didn't have that initial setup—which, admittedly, was fun for some and not others. This is the test. This is the "R" rated version.
Disclaimer: I did not create nor do I own the characters of Dawson's Creek. Dialogue from actual episodes has been quoted here; I don't own that either.
ADMISSIONS
CHAPTER ONE
"Je t'aime"zzzzzzzzzz
I remember everything.
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"Worthington! You got in!" the boy kept shouting as he twirled the girl around the school hallway. She was getting dizzy and pretty sure she was about to annihilate someone with her long legs as they careened through the air. But she was so happy she just couldn't let go. Worthington College, her number one choice, had accepted her. This doesn't seem real, she thought. Things like this just don't happen to me.
"Come on," the boy said as he put her down; she had to adjust to her land legs first. "Where are we going? We still have 6th period." "With all due respect to Mr. Ringler's history class, today is about the future—your future," he said. He knew that she needed to read that letter for herself, she needed to see her future confirmed on a typewritten page.
So for the second time in her academic career, Miss Fourth in Her Class allowed Mr. Slacker No More to convince her to cut school. There was a brief stop, however, in the ubiquitous boiler room where the couple enjoyed a brief celebratory make-out session before going home. Why the boiler room only they knew—maybe they were acting out another fantasy—because everyone at school was used to seeing them make out in the halls. No one even bothered to yell out "Get a room" anymore.
"How do you do that?" the boy asked as he stared intently into his lover's eyes. "What?" "How do you manage to glow like that?" "Guess I took an extra Good Mood Pill this morning," she said as a wide, beaming grin crept across her face. She drew him into a patented, tingling-from-head-to-toe kiss. Now he radiated as well.
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The revelry was premature after all. Joey's euphoria came to a blistering end a couple of days letter when a letter arrived from the Financial Aid office telling her that, as far as she was concerned, she wasn't going anywhere. Certainly not to Worthington. She knew that the only way a girl from the wrong side of the creek could enter the Ivy League was with a full financial package—but the pencil pushers didn't see it that way. Their offer was $15,000 shy of the mark. So that was it, she wasn't going.
Someone forgot to tell the guests outside who had come to celebrate Joey's victory that Saturday, and she was too proud to tell them otherwise. Pacey's heart broke as he watched her quietly accept everyone's congratulations knowing that every single pat on the back felt more like a knife. When the Leerys came over to give Dawson his acceptance package from USC, he was sure she felt the knives twist; she fled the scene without anyone except he and Bodi noticing. He wanted to run to her, comfort her, but knew she needed time to collect herself.
It was Dawson who walked in on her breakdown. Even then she resisted telling him, wanting him to have his moment while she kept the humiliation of her brief over-confidence private. But he prodded her until she finally blurted out the truth: the scholarship had been a pipedream, her financial package had come up short and she wasn't entering Worthington's hallowed halls after all.
"Jo, it's just money. There's got to be a way around this," he said with typical optimism. "You can't let it stop you from achieving something you've worked this hard for." This was her "soulmate" telling her this, right? After all these years…after all they had been through together…after witnessing for himself the ways in which he was treated differently from his "best friend", Dawson still didn't understand that there was no such thing as JUST money in Joey Potter's world. Money kept her in her place and Dawson Leery safely ensconced in his white middle-class utopia.
Money was the dividing line between Capeside alumnus and Worthington elite, and once again it had been thrown back into Joey's face. Mrs. Valentine, who always treated Joey like poor white trash whom she allowed to work at the Yacht Club out of the kindness of her heart, would love that comeuppance.
Dawson had that look on his face. The look that announced a light bulb had just turned on. Uh oh. "I want you to have Mr. Brooks' money," he said. "Are you insane?" "Look, I know you're going to say no, and that's fine, but don't say no until you've at least considered the possibility." To him, it was as simple as that. There was an "easy answer"—all she had to do was to accept his offer, say yes.
What Joey hated to admit was that she did seriously consider it. It was, seemingly, a simple solution. Why should she fight it? But it just didn't feel right. Despite Dawson's protestations to the contrary, she knew that there was no debt without obligation, and she would feel obligated to him. That was no way to start off her college career and, even more important, it wasn't fair to Pacey. She was not going to scare up those ghosts again.
She said no. But Dawson went around her, trying to use Pacey to convince her to change her mind. Feeling somehow responsible for her predicament—how that was possible was never explained—Pacey agreed to talk to her. He understood her world better than anyone. He could see the fork in the road even if she didn't—or perhaps she refused to. Sooner or later, he was going to have to let her go.
Acceptance at Worthington made it sooner, denial of full financial aid indicated later; neither option made him very happy. Was he now standing in her way, preventing her from moving on? Joey & Pacey's relationship had always been about allowing each other to grow, but lately they both seemed to be floundering. They had been so focused on their epic sexual journey that they had neglected Reality with a capitol "R". And the reality was she was leaving… and he would probably stay.
If she decided to defer college for a year and declare herself financially independent would that really make a difference in their relationship? Would she have even considered that option a year ago—before she risked everything to be with him? With the stakes this important, how could he ask her to risk everything again?
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"Promise me one thing….That if the day ever come when you did feel like I was holding you back, promise me you'll cut me loose, yeah?"
"Pacey, I won't promise you that. You're asking me to promise to let you go; I can't do that."
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I don't deserve Pacey's love; he's been thinking only of me in this and I can see it's killing him. And I don't deserve Dawson's generosity. I believe his intentions are honorable but, being Dawson, he can't resist the opportunity to rush in and fix something Pacey can't. At least I had the guts to tell him he was no longer the most important person in my life. My actions should have shown him that already, but he still needed to hear it from my lips. I'm not his Joey Potter anymore and I haven't been for a long time.
"Is this going to be weird? My accepting money from Dawson?" Pacey and I were cuddled in bed. We had spent most of the evening comforting each other, assuring each other that as much as things were bound to change, our love remained steadfast. It was eternal. I love him with my heart and soul and every part of my body—I actually told him that. Little Joey Potter would've thought that was corny, but this one believes the Witter boy is my anchor and my shield. I can't imagine living without him.
I turned to face him. I looked into those blue-hazel eyes flecked with green and found myself falling again. I know now what it means to really fall in love. Because it happens every time he looks at me…or touches me…every time we make love. I can feel myself tumbling, falling. I touched his cheek and he brought my hand to his lips, gently kissing my fingers and palm with a series of sweet little nips. I couldn't resist sampling that mouth again for myself. My lips brushed against his as my nostrils drew in the scent of his musky cologne and our mutual moans danced around each other.
Then I remembered that he still hadn't answered my question. I slowly pulled myself away and instantly ached for that loss of contact. "Is this okay? Are you going to be okay with this?"
"Jo, you are going to Worthington. Period. End of discussion. And if accepting Dawson's money is the only thing that can make that happen…then I say, thank God and thank the man. And move on."
"I can't help think that…"
"He means well, Jo."
"I know he does. But, at the same time, it feels like another manipulation. It's not the first time he's given me money." Pacey looked perplexed, and I knew that I had better explain everything—fast. "Sophomore year. He won that prize for Sea Creature from the Deep, remember? And when he found out that I couldn't work with him on his next project, he offered me half the prize money."
"Half? He didn't offer the Sea Creature anything! I need to get a better agent," Pacey responded cheerfully. All glibness aside, I thanked God that my man was one to roll with the punches. Although sometimes I kinda liked the jealous thing.
"Well…" I started to say as I pulled myself closer to him, mixing my legs with his. "Producers do get to partake in the profits. But the more I thought about it, the more it felt like Dawson's effort to retain his position as the 'most important person' in my universe. He wanted me to be able to buy some art supplies, so I did—for both Jack and I—and then I returned the rest to him. I put a money order for $1000 in a thank you note I made and taped it to a tin of chocolate chip cookies."
"You never baked me chocolate chip cookies," Pacey chided.
"Because I feared that it would stand between us and your afternoon craving for Count Chockula!" I answered light-heartedly. He slid our entwined hands around and across the small of my back. My body tingled. I kissed his chest, massaging his pecs with my remaining free hand. "Some might call this a manipulation," I whispered seductively in his ear.
"And this?" he responded, as he rolled on top of me and slid his body up and down mine. I could feel his arousal—as massive and potent as my own.
"Pace, I just want you to know that no matter what Dawson does, you are and always will be the most important person in my life. I love you."
"I love you, too, Miss Potter." "Miss?" "Josephine," he growled as he planted sensual, mind-bending kisses down my neck and across my breasts. My nipples hardened and I began to quiver. That's what he does to me.
"How about this, Josephine. Would you call this a manipulation?" he countered, bringing down the register of his voice to a soft bass. "No…" "No?" he growled again, moving his hand between my legs, teasing me with his charmed fingertips. I was excited beyond mere pleasure. "Definitely not," I insisted rather meekly, my breath hitching on every searching movement of his fingers.
"I should give the money back," I said as I consciously moved against his hand. "Why?" "Because I would much rather do this than go to Worthington."
"Can't you do both?" he asked as his lips seared a path down my stomach. He massaged my navel with his tongue while his other hand caressed my hip. I forgot what we were talking about. "What?" "Can't you do this and go to Worthington?" he reminded me, kissing the last bit of flesh above my curly mound of hair. I instinctively arched my body to greet him. Each kiss sending high-voltage electric jolts straight to my heart.
"Yes, yes," I moaned as I gave myself completely to him. Because he loves me.
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Two hearts were on fire, neither one saved from the precipitous fall; two pairs of hands and two beating hearts linked as their owners tumbled willingly, eagerly, gratefully. They made love until dawn—a reawakening that was heralded not by a rooster and the sun, but by an alarm clock and the boy's morning hard-on. It was the time when both of them felt recharged like Energizer bunnies. She was getting used to it by now, the best part of her morning in her estimation.
"I should go," the girl said, cupping the boy's face in her hands and kissing him sweetly on the lips. "Dear Juliet, it is not yet near morn," he said, pulling her back to him for another rapturous kiss. "'Tis the nightingale and not the lark that sings so out of tune." "Me thinks it is the tape machine on low batteries," she retorted. He laughed as he wrapped a blanket around them. She rested her head on his chest and listened to his heart beat. She was addicted to this feeling of comfort and peace, the warmth of his body against hers, the warmth of her love combined with his. The feeling of oneness.
She listened to the quiet rattle of his sleep. Next to his growls and groans, she thought, it was the sweetest sound of all.
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It was not yet near noon, when my day begins, but the scent of my Juliet has invaded every pore of my body. She is in my pillow, in the blanket, in the air around me, in every breath that I breathe. And she smells like…vanilla. It is the sweet smell of home. I meant what I told her last night, she is my home.
I know I'm not good enough for her. If I hadn't selfishly dominated her time, no doubt she would have applied for those scholarships or grants that would have made the difference. She would have made it to Worthington on her own instead of beholding herself, once again, to Dawson Leery. He offered her the solution I could not, and she feels guilty about it; she feels guilty about her success.
How did we get here? One moment we were mortal enemies, the next I found myself attracted to this girl, my sparring partner, as I watched her changing from the vantage point of my rear-view mirror. I kissed her that night, but she was only thinking of him. This feisty, vulnerable, intelligent, funny girl had eyes for someone else, and that was okay. At least I got the chance to look behind the mask and see what Dawson had always seen: that she was like us, only prettier and smarter. The tough girl façade just made her more intriguing. Her weapon was sarcasm, mine was wit.
I think part of the reason I was so pissed off at Dawson when they first got together was that I wanted her just as badly; I had wanted her first. But I had to forget that—so I did, with Andie. For the better part of the next year, I forgot all about Joey Potter. Yes, we saw each other, but mostly because she and Andie had become friends.
I wasn't thinking of her at all when I held her hand and comforted her as she watched the family restaurant burn to the ground. I wasn't thinking of her at all when I couldn't forgive Andie for being confused and making a mistake when she was alone in that hospital. I wasn't thinking of her at all when I made that casual sex pact with Jen—and then couldn't go through with it.
When did I fall in love? It was the first time she smiled at me, not him. I was a goner then. I was so sure she wouldn't consider a dork like me. Why should she? I was going nowhere and she's headed to the stratosphere. But, much to my eternal gratitude, she did—and I will always be thankful for this time I've been allowed to spend with her. She always says that I surprise her, but her love is the most amazing thing of all.
She is only going to be gone for the day and I miss her already. And then the next Tuesday is Senior Ditch Day; she and Jen will be gone overnight. No nookie. But, more important, no closeness…no hugs. That girl has a way of pulling herself into an embrace that is the sexiest, most endearing thing I think I've ever experienced. Her body envelopes mine with its warmth, and it's a sensation that I can never get enough of.
That smell is wafting through my nostrils again. Wait a minute… That's not my imagination, something's up. I've got to check this out!
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The boy appeared frozen in the doorway, unable to move. On the table in front of him was a large popcorn tin. The lid was off, revealing dozens of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies. In his hand was a homemade card, the cover of which was a drawing of their wall with the words "Ask Me To Stay". That alone wasn't what left him dumbfounded. It was her message:
"I know you think you're make this great sacrifice by insisting that I go with Jen to New York—but you don't have to, you dope. I would gladly stay at home. Today, tomorrow, always.
"I told you that I wasn't going anywhere without you and I meant it. I want to be with you. And if that means Boston University instead of Worthington, then so be it.
"I love you."
What am I going to do, he thought. How could I ever leave this girl? How could I let her leave me? He looked at the container of cookies. But I am not going to think about that now. Right now, I am going to enjoy myself. I am going to consume every cookie in this tin. She baked them for me.
Because she loves me.