A/N: Thanks to those reading, replying and following. It's good to see that the fandom isn't quite dead yet. I hope you're enjoying the story so far.
In White Houses
I look at Jen in the mirror's reflection as she tries her third attempt at doing my hair. "I'm going to be late," I protest.
"Trust me, he can wait. That's the first rule of dating, and one that I'm not the slightest bit surprised you don't know," she says with a chuckle. "I think we're just going super straight," she musses to herself as she continues playing with my hair.
"I don't know anything about this stuff."
"Well, the first rule is that the guy can always wait. But he should never make you wait."
"What's the second rule?"
"Only put out if he takes you somewhere with the whole menu in French."
I laugh and roll my eyes. "Somehow, I doubt that's going to be the case."
"With Pacey, you never know," Jen says simply.
"What was it like growing up with Pacey?"
She sighs softly. "Pacey is the best. He has kind of a self-persecution thing going on, but he doesn't have any reason to. He's made his fair share of mistakes, but haven't we all?"
"What do you mean?"
"I just mean that he beats himself up for things that he's had no control over. Take Andie for example," she says, stopping for a moment to glance over and make sure the bathroom door is closed. "What happened between them was not his fault. There are a lot of things that end a relationship that are a 50/50 split of both parties. But being cheated on isn't always one of those things. I honestly think that he and Andie would still be together if that hadn't happened, but he couldn't forgive her. One of the things about Pacey is that he is loyal, almost to a fault, and he just couldn't understand why someone would hurt him that way. A lot of people have the capacity to play it off as a moment of weakness or something else, but Pacey literally could not understand it. I don't think he can to this day. I think he needs someone as loyal to him as he is to them to be in a lasting relationship." She clears her throat. "I think this is the best I can do with your hair."
"All that work for you to just leave it down?" I say, looking at her in puzzlement.
"Well, who am I to mess with beauty?" She asks, smoothing her hands over my hair.
"Please," I scoff, bowing my head as I blush a little. "I'm going to get dressed now."
"Okay." She says. She exits the bathroom timely, and I reach for the bag. I bought a pair of black dress pants and a dark purple tank top that is gathered on the top and trimmed with lace. I figured that could fit into Andie's description of showing a little skin, right? It fits my chest just right, according to Jen, while showing off my slender frame, whatever that means. Audrey chose shades of purple for my makeup to complement the tank top and I wonder just what I'm going to do about dating when I don't have an entire system to mobilize on my behalf when it's time to get ready. I sigh and slip into the tank top. It's the first shirt I've ever owned that's too revealing for a bra. We'll see how that goes, right? The pants are a little more relaxed of a fit than I was imagining, but by the time I purchased them, we were already running late to get home and 'get ready'. Apparently, it also takes upwards of two hours to get ready for a date, and that's after the shopping is done. I had no idea…they had me picking clothes, scents, jewelry, and what seemed like a hundred other things.
Suddenly, it becomes clear to me why I've never fit in with these girls before. It's because I'm not like them. I don't spend hours on hair and makeup. I don't prance around in front of other girls and ask them what they think of my shirt. I don't giggle and gossip and engage in girl time like that. I've always thought that getting ready for something entailed a shower and making sure your clothes were clean. I slip on the black sling sandals they encouraged me to buy in order to 'dress me up', and reflect on the toenails that Audrey insist I paint. I shake my head and sigh.
As I exit the bathroom, I hear chatter in the living room, and I deduce from the vibration of male voice that Pacey and Jack are talking with the girls. I wonder how long Pacey has been here, visiting with his friends. I instantly feel guilty for taking up all of his spare time the last few days when he would probably rather enjoy the company of the friends he's known his whole life. I twist my hands around each other behind my back and appear in the living room, lit from outside by the sun, which is dimming gradually.
"Hey," Pacey says, the word strangely strung out as it gets stuck in his throat. He swallows as he surveys me.
"Hi." I say, bowing my head against his visual caresses. I bite my lip as he moves closer to me. I can feel all the eyes in the room. A quick sweep tells me that Jack, Jen, and Audrey are all here, adding fury to the blush of self-awareness that creeps acutely across my features.
"Should we go?" He asks, reaching around me to take my hand out from behind my back. Somehow, the gesture sets me slightly at ease and I smile up at him.
"Yeah. Going would be good." We both bid quiet farewells to my roommates as we make our way out into the driveway, where a truck I've never seen before sits.
"You have a truck?" I ask, out loud, immediately aware of how idiotic I sounded.
He chuckles. "I have a truck," he echoes, and as he reaches around me to open my door, I notice for the first time how good he smells. I allow myself the luxury of a deep breath, but I don't say anything.
"You look amazing," he breathes from behind me. I turn around, backward movement only halted by the seat in the small pickup.
"Well thank you. You clean up well yourself," I say, looking over his freshly-shaven appearance in a white shirt and dress pants. He looks more handsome than normal tonight, all dressed up and adult. Maybe the body spray that Jen picked has gone to my head.
"I know tradition states that you shouldn't kiss on the first date, let alone at the beginning of the first date, but I'm afraid I can't help myself." He says in a voice that is both husky and rich.
"Well, I suppose I could allow you to sneak one in now." I say, rolling my eyes up and to the side. "To spare you the egotistical meltdown that would surely follow a doorstep shutdown later on tonight."
"Of course," he mumbles as he presses his lips against mine, any traces of hesitance that have been present in previous kisses gone as he wraps his arms around me, fingering the delicate spaghetti straps on my tank top. I shiver from the intimate contact and sink into him, growing steadily more accustomed to how it feels to kiss him, and liking it more with each passing moment.
"This isn't a petting zoo!" Jack says as he and Jen walk down the driveway past us.
I barely hear him, and Pacey barely pulls away. "Are you sure?" He says, with a glint of something in his eye. "I must've taken the wrong exit, then."
"Forgive me for feeding the animals," I say at the same time, although Pacey and I never take our eyes off of each other.
"That's exactly what you're doing Joey." Jack teases back. "You have no idea."
"I think I might." I say, cocking my head to the side and looking at Pacey's lips a little more.
"Gross. You guys are grossing me out," Jen says. From over Pacey's shoulder, I can see her covering her eyes.
"Just go find a summer fling to slobber on and you'll be fine." Pacey says, finally tossing a glance over his shoulder.
"Working on it!" Jen says with a wave thrown over her shoulder as they continue on their way down the driveway. Jen mentioned something about a party up the street, but it's a little early to be going there already.
"We should go," he says. "We have reservations."
"Reservations?" I ask. "That's a little fancy for a first date."
"Would you be impressed with jeans and a walk-in, sit down restaurant? Because we can do that if you'd rather."
"Reservations are good," I admit as I get in the truck. My insides do a funny jump when he makes sure I'm in comfortably before he shuts the door. He does a little jog over to his side of the truck and gets in. He drives a good way up the street before he speaks to me.
"So can I ask you a question?" He says.
"You just did."
He raises an eyebrow at me. "Funny." He licks his lips, and the sight of his tongue peeking out catches my attention more than his words. "No, it just seemed like you were all weird when I said that my girlfriend cheated on me. I've been thinking about it for a few days, and I know it wasn't just my imagination. Was it?"
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "It wasn't just your imagination." I say quietly. I look straight ahead for a while. "I just don't want to talk about it," I say, worrying my lower lip with my teeth and shrugging.
"Oh." He says, shifting a little awkwardly. "Okay."
"The way I see it, that's more of a second date conversation."
He chuckles, looking over at me as if that comment wasn't what he was expecting and shakes his head. "I should've known you'd have our conversation catalogued by date."
"It's in my journal. Written down." I narrow my eyes. "Although I don't know if you could call it a catalogue, exactly. It's more of a quick reference."
"A guide?"
"Yeah, a guide." I repeat. "Where are you taking me?"
He smiles. "It's a surprise," he says, but he's already turning into a parking lot. He chuckles. "And here we are."
"Chez en Mer?" I ask. "House on the Sea?"
"Yes." He says. "You speak French?"
"I took it through school."
"Well, good. You can tell me what the menu says, then," he says brightly.
"What exactly is a 'Chez en Mer'?" I ask.
"It's like a dinner cruise," he says easily. He excuses himself to get out of the car. "And we set sail at seven." I wait patiently for him to come around and open my car door.
"Are we dressed up enough for this?" I ask as he helps me out of the truck.
"I think so," he says. "I've never been here before, but this is the beach. And when I asked, they said 'nice, but not formal'." He shrugs with an air of confidence that I wish I had. "I guess if it isn't good enough, they won't let us on, huh?"
I frown slightly. "How did you find time to plan this?"
"I have connections," he says vaguely and takes my hand. It's one of the easiest, most natural things in the world, which makes it seem weird to me. Especially when I realize that I didn't know him this time last week.
"That makes it sound like a drug deal or something."
"Or something," he says with special emphasis.
"Welcome aboard," says the host as Pacey fishes the tickets out of his shirt pocket. "Mr. Witter and Miss Potter."
"Thank you," we say in unison as he opens the dining room doors to us. You know, it could be a bad thing to be on a boat, if things didn't go well on a date. You're trapped for, like, hours. I would imagine that would be bad, at least.
"So, what do you think?"
"I think you went overboard." I say, realizing immediately how lame the pun is.
"You have no idea," he says softly, as a man who met us at the door leads us to a table for two next to a porthole.
"Wow, a window seat."
"I know. When I said I had connections, I was totally serious," he says with a casual wink as he pulls out my chair for me.
"The hostess will be by shortly with the menu presentation," the man says before excusing himself.
I realize as I sip at the pre-set water in the actual crystal in front of me that if I said anything I was thinking out loud, I would sound like a little girl. They do a menu presentation? When I was a hostess at the restaurant (the restaurant, as in the one that would hire me) back home, the "menu presentation" consisted of handing it to the customer and telling them if we had any specials. And we just called it seating a table.
The hostess comes by and explains the menu to us. She asks if we would prefer English menus, but Pacey graciously declines, noting his 'sense of adventure'. But then he looks at me expectantly as I look over the menu, and I know that adventure had nothing to do with it, because he knows his date speaks French. At least, she speaks enough French to get us through this meal. Jen's words from earlier pop into my head.
Only put out if he takes you somewhere with the whole menu in French.
I scrutinize the menu in front of me carefully, holding it a little more tightly and pulling it up in front of my face as I struggle to find anything at all in English. And then I realize with starting clarity that I don't really want anything on the menu to be in English because I actually enjoy putting out for him. It's at exactly this moment that I decide to discard the advice I've been so desperately seeking, and just do what I feel like doing. I believe that's called following your heart or something like that.
"Are you blushing?" He says with a teasing tone, pushing my menu down slightly so we can make eye contact.
"Maybe a little," I admit openly. "Because of something Jen said to me earlier."
"Don't listen to Jen." He says quickly, and with a very straight face.
"Why?" I ask with an inquisitive scowl.
"Because she's just trying to undermine me, and no matter what she says, I never, ever answered to Captain Poopy Pants."
I barely manage to stifle my laugh because he looks so serious. "Excuse me?"
"Nothing. What did Jen say?"
"Oh, she said I shouldn't put out on the first date unless we went somewhere that the entire menu was in French."
He sighs. "Then listen to Jen."
I smile. "See, it's not that easy. You already told me not to listen to her, Captain Poopy Pants."
"That's cute," he says. "Really, you should only listen to her if you want to, because she knew where we were coming."
"How did she know?"
"She called me and asked while you were at the mall, in case you noticed her being a little more aggressive than normal to find you the perfect outfit."
"I thought she was always like that," I say, raising the glass to my lips to sip more water.
"Well, she is," he admits. He turns to his menu. "Have you decided?"
"Yeah." I say, reaching across the table to point out my selection on his menu.
"Filet de Porc," he says. His pronunciation, at least according to my public school and one-semester of college education, is pretty good. "What's in it?"
"It's stuffed with onions, apples, cranberries, and herbs. At least, that's what the description says," I shrug.
"When I made the reservation, it said the soup and salad were daily and they asked me to choose the Hors d'Oeurves and dessert. They said the menu was a little limited."
"It looks good to me," I said. "There was a lot of different stuff…a couple of kinds of chicken, steak, fish…pork."
He smiles. "Which one is steak?"
I read over my menu carefully and then point to the steak on his. "This one."
He takes my hand and holds it on the table top. "So tell me something new about you. Something I don't know yet."
I feel myself blush slightly as I fumble, too lost in the feeling of his touch to think about much of anything at all. I'm saved by our waiter coming by to present the wine list. We listen patiently to his presentation, although we are too young to order. For a moment, I wonder if Jack could get an I.D. for me so I could drink more, and then I catch myself before I chuckle and fight the urge to scold myself. That really isn't like me.
As soon as our waiter has taken our order and dismissed himself, I turn to Pacey's expectant gaze. "So, something you don't know about me yet."
"Yes," he confirms, adding his most dazzling smile.
"Would you believe I dated a Patriots quarterback?" I say dryly. He raises and eyebrow.
"Would I believe you could or would I believe you did?"
"Nice redirect, counselor." I tease lightly. "I collect shot glasses."
He chuckles. "Really?"
"Yes, really. I have three," I say seriously, smoothing my napkin over my lap. "One from Boston, one from a weekend trip with my sister to Providence when I was in high school and one from New York."
He's still chuckling as I ask him a question. "What about you? Do you have any embarrassing collections?"
"Seashells," he finally says. "I've taken one from every beach I've ever been to. I walk around, sometimes for hours, until I find a whole one."
"I bet you have more than three."
"That I do," he says. "I've been to every beach on the Keys, a few in the Bahamas, the ones here, of course, one in North Carolina, and all the ones close to home."
"Do you know how many you have?"
"Twenty-two," he says firmly as he takes a big drink of water.
"What made you decide to do that?"
"What made you decide to collect shot glasses?"
I smile. "I wanted something when I went college scouting in Boston, and it was the only thing from the gift shop I could afford."
"Seashells are free, you know."
"Yeah, but I just don't have empty hours on my hands to hunt for them," I say, barely recognize my voice as it drips with sweet sarcasm.
"Oh, that's cute." He says. "We'll see if I put out at the end of this date."
Somewhere during our conversation, the boat has set sail and I look out over the wide expanse of ocean. "I'll bet it's amazing to get out there on your own boat."
"Yeah." He confirms, his voice suddenly wistful as he turns his gaze out the porthole, too. "I'll have to take you out one time while you're here."
"That would be fun," I say brightly. "What was your favorite place to visit?"
"I really liked Key Largo." He says, turning his gaze to his water glass. "It was the furthest I'd ever been from home when I got there, and it was this amazing rush of independence and adulthood…I felt like I could stay there forever. It was the first time I looked back after I left home, and I liked that I couldn't see home. It was like everything was behind me while I was there."
He's just summed up the appeal of this place to me, and I suddenly feel the contact between our hands again as he strums his thumb against mine lightly in tune to the soft, romantic music playing in the background somewhere. I feel the connection between us clearly and, instead of looking back, it's like I'm looking forward. For the first time in my life, I don't have that restless, unsure feeling. For the first time, I feel like everything in my life has led me here, to this perfect moment. I smile at him and look away. Our Hors d'Oeurves are delivered to the table, providing the first incentive for us to pull apart.
The five course meal is fabulous, and I feel fully stuffed and spoiled as we step off the boat after it returns to shore. I don't know how he decided on such an intimate first date, but the evening of rich food, dancing, and long looks at each other was perfect for us, even if it was a little more private than the traditional first date. I remember to discard the idea of a 'traditional' first date and to just enjoy what I'm feeling. He doesn't release my hand until he has to so he can get into the truck.
"So, this is the part of the evening where you're in charge," he says as he starts the truck.
"How am I in charge?"
"Jack wanted us to stop by that party when we were finished with dinner, but we don't have to. It's your choice."
"We can stop by for a little while if you want to," I say with a shrug. "But it really doesn't matter to me. I'm completely satisfied with the evening as it is."
"Completely satisfied?" He says. "That's awfully bold."
"Well, what can I say? I'm easy to please."
He chuckles. "I'm not really in the mood for a party," he admits carefully, looking over at me to gauge my reaction.
"I know what you mean," I say simply and yawn to emphasize my point. "That dessert was good but…I could just lie down and not move for the rest of my life."
He smiles warmly. "Well, we have two options then, but it sounds so bad I just can't say it."
"What, your place or mine?" I ask bluntly.
"It doesn't sound so bad when you say it."
"Because I'm innocent and you're dirty."
"I'll show you dirty."
"Promise?" I ask, and I know I shock him because he's suddenly silent. I finally speak up again, wanting to alleviate the pressure of unspoken expectation that is weighing us both down. "Jen's parents have a decent movie collection here, so we can go crash in the room she's sharing with Jack and watch a movie if you want."
He smiles, and I can tell that he feels the relief of my offer as much as I do. "That sounds good."
"Okay. You have to pick the movie, though."
"That's not a smart choice. I thought you were a smart girl?"
"I have my moments of weakness." I say. All of a sudden, the expectation is there again, and it nearly kills us both before we reach Jen's house. I excuse myself to change into pajamas while he chooses a movie, and I find myself debating over my choice of pajamas. It isn't as though I have anything more comfortable than the ones Bessie gave me, so I go with those again and I pull my hair into a ponytail. If I'm going casual, I might as well go all the way. I pad into the room in my bare feet, and I'm instantly mesmerized by him comparing the two DVDs by the blue light of the television screen. I look him over, so much boy and so much man all rolled into one. His white shirt is untucked and unbuttoned, and he's kicked off his shoes and messed his hair up. The dress clothes make him look older than the nineteen he stated, but the tongue sticking out takes off at least twelve years.
"What have you narrowed it down to?" I finally manage to ask, coming into the room.
"I have Monty Python and the Holy Grail or Moulin Rouge."
I smile. "We don't have to watch Moulin Rouge if you don't want to."
"Excellent," he says, instantly bending down to put Monty Python in the player. "Get comfortable. Because once I get over there, I'm stealing all of the covers and I'm sticking my knee in the middle of your back."
"Hey, I'll fight you back on the covers." I pull back the white down comforter and plain white sheets and stop for a moment, rethinking the decision to share a bed with someone on the first date. That's kind of slutty, isn't it?
I discard the thought. My first instinct was that the cuddling potential of a movie was too much to pass up, so I'm going to stick with it. Somehow, laid back is closer to how I feel when I'm with him then dressed up. Don't get me wrong, I had a great time at dinner. But somehow, fighting over covers and not watching a movie that's playing seems more like how our relationship is shaping up.
"Have you seen this movie?" He asks, as I scowl at the mock-Swedish subtitles going on about a moose.
"No."
"You've never seen Monty Python?"
"No." I say, turning my head slightly as the screen begins to flash through several bright colors.
"Why am I not surprised?" He mocks. "If I had popcorn, I would throw it at you."
"Why do you think I didn't offer?" I say, turning toward him for the first time and noticing that he's wearing the same look of contemplation he wore moments ago as he tried to choose the movie, and I realize where I've seen it before. It's always there just before he kisses me, which he does slowly just to torture me, I'm pretty sure.
I close my eyes and feel myself fall into him, breathing in the manly scent of his cologne as he slides his tongue into my mouth and I feel the elation that I can somehow only capture when we're doing this.
So this is kissing. That's all I can think about when we're kissing. I allow his hands to wander freely over my back, and all I can think about is the warm tingling that follows his fingertips. Is that something my body is doing or is it some sort of magic that his fingers work on me?
Slowly, we tangle in one another and he lays us back on the bed, carefully resting on top of me and I gasp out loud. He pulls back.
"Is this not okay?" He asks, far enough away from me that he can actually look at my face. His hair is sticking up from where my hands have been in it and he looks charmingly disheveled.
"This is excellent," I say simply, and use my hand on the back of his neck to pull his mouth back to mine. I surprise myself a little when I feel my hands start grasping at his shirt, and eventually start undoing the buttons. I slide his shirt back over his shoulders, leaving him in just his wifebeater. He cups my breast in his hand through my tanktop, sending shivers down through my stomach, where it culminates in some previously unmentioned need. The need to be skin to skin, to be closer to him. He rubs against me and groans as he bends down to kiss my neck. I don't recognize the breathless, light sound that escapes me as he does that, but I do recognize the feeling as it spreads through me, the same feeling from when he was rubbing the material of my tanktop over the sensitive flesh on my nipple.
"Pacey," I say simply as I rake my fingers through his hair again. I feel my legs fall apart at the knees, allowing him to rest more comfortably and blissfully close to me. I'm surprised at my own actions as I begin to rub against him. He seems surprised as he pulls his face away for just a minute to study me as I do that, feeling an almost unbearable ache begin to throb. I said almost unbearable because it's like that on one hand, but on the other hand, it's the most bearable thing I've ever felt and I want to keep feeling it. It's as if I don't know what I'll feel if I stop.
I don't know how long we're there, just rubbing against each other in the most intimate, torturous, and exquisite ways imaginable, but I notice quickly when the light flips on.
"Jesus, Joey, I hope the menu was all in French!" Jack says as Pacey and I part as quickly as possible. It's like the light broke the spell that we were weaving and we are trying to shake off the haze. In his haste, Pacey tangles in the covers and falls off the bed.
"Uhh…" I say, torn between tossing some smart ass quip at Jack and helping Pacey up off the floor. Although my clothes are still on and in mostly the right places, I cover myself as much as I can with the covers and I reach down to help Pacey detangle. He's rubbing the back of his head where he smacked it on the nightstand.
"Are you okay?" I ask, reaching out to touch the lump.
"I've been better," Pacey says honestly, moving to kiss me as I gently feel the lump on the back of his head. I smile and let him kiss me, also remembering a few minutes ago when things were much better than him on the floor and rubbing the back of his head.
"Well, I just came to get my swim trunks," Jack says, finally in motion from the bedroom door. "Don't mind me."
"Then why did you turn the light on?" Pacey says in protest, wincing.
"Well, you didn't put the scrunchie on the door." Jack says simply. "That's our code around here for 'I'm about to get lucky, so don't come inside unless the world is ending'."
"I must've missed the memo," Pacey says dryly as I reach out to help him up.
"Well, now you know." Jack says, reappearing in the bedroom with trunks in hand. "Have fun."
"Hey, slip a scrunchie on the door when you go out, would you?" I call after Jack. He sticks his hand back inside the door, and I'm not surprised to see that he's flipping me off.
"You know, that's okay," Pacey says, tracing my jawline with his index finger. "I should go anyway. I have to work tomorrow morning and all."
"I wish you didn't." I say, suddenly pouting without really knowing why.
He smiles warmly. "So do I." He kisses me before he speaks again. "Can I see you tomorrow after I'm finished working?"
"You better." I say, falling into him all over again as we kiss. We get caught up in another long series of kisses before he pulls away.
"Thank you. I had a great time with you." He says, walking around to the other side of the bed and picking up his shirt.
"Isn't that my line?"
"Nope. I said it first. Find your own line." He smiles broadly. "I'll see you tomorrow morning?"
"Definitely," I say, accepting another kiss from him. "Good night, Pacey."
"Night, Potter." He leaves the room with a smile, and as I hear him whistling the song we were dancing to earlier on the boat, I feel myself smile, too.
"How's that treating you?" Pacey asks, gesturing towards my Slurpee.
"Uh…" I say, holding it up. The light coming from the row of beach houses reveals that I've sucked out most of the flavor and I'm left with shaved ice. "It's okay."
"Man, you really sucked all the fun out of that."
"How long have you been waiting to drop that line?" I ask with a sweet smile.
"About twenty minutes."
"That's what I thought," I say. "So I'm really sorry this is the first party of Will's that you've been to this summer."
"It's okay." He says easily, taking the drink I'm not going to finish out of my hand. "I've gotten to see Will for most of my life. I've got some lost time to make up for."
"Someday, you're going to run out of sweet things to say, and then what will you have?"
"Ouch! I'll have you know my mouth is capable of a multitude of other things that you are currently unaware of."
"I may be unaware, but I can imagine," I say in a low voice. He swallows hard and I don't have to look too hard to see his earlobes turning red. It's been exactly five nights since our date. Five work nights to be exact. It turns out that work nights involve an awful lot of making out like mad from the time he gets off work until the time he begs to go to bed in peace. But he has tonight and tomorrow night off, so he's promised me a party tonight and a real second date tomorrow night. So I donned my red bikini and sarong again. I didn't even ask for girly help this time. I got ready completely on my own. Jen was prancing around our house, and she kept saying something about her baby being all grown up…I wasn't sure that was a compliment, so I just left it alone. Her summer fling being Will means that she came early to help set up. Pacey was very gracious and offered to buy me some Seven-Eleven nachos and a Slurpee to ensure that I get what he dubbed 'substantial nutritional value before I liquor you up and take advantage of you'.
"Yeah, well keep wearing the red bikini and you're not going to have to imagine because I'm going to throw you down and take you right here on the volleyball court."
I turn to press myself intimately against him. "Promise?" I ask, slipping my arms around his neck and kissing him, still enjoying the feeling of pure happiness that shoots through me when I kiss him. He lowers his hands to my lower back, using them as leverage to draw me closer to him so that I grind against him in the most wonderfully painful way imaginable.
"Don't start something we won't finish, Potter."
"Yes, Captain."
"Stop calling me that!" He says, smacking my ass loudly as I turn to walk away from him. I did get a halting and edited version of the Captain Poopy Pants story from him and Jen the other night. Truth be told, I really didn't understand that, but I so enjoy irritating him by calling him that.
"Well, well, well…look who finally showed up to something," Will says warmly, greeting Pacey. Although his words are somewhat bitter, the smile on his face betrays him. "You must be the lovely Joey I've heard so much about."
"No, I'm the other Joey." I say, shooting Pacey a look. He said Will was really excited to meet me and had heard a lot about me. I warned him to stop telling people I was lovely so they didn't get a nasty shock.
"Excellent. Let's get this girl a drink, Pace!" Will says, clapping him on the back with a chuckle as Jen sidles up to him with his drink. He kisses her in a way that makes my eyes widen, because I didn't completely realize that they were that comfortable with each other. Then again, I've only lived here for a little over a week and I'm pretty comfortable with Pacey.
"I'm on it!" Pacey says, a little too enthusiastically. He kisses my cheek and then exits.
"So, Jen and I are going clubbing tomorrow night if you and Pacey wanted to come," Will says, taking a healthy drink of his beer.
"Um…" I say uncertainly, looking around to see where Pacey went. "I don't know. Ask Pacey. He has to work the next morning. I think he was going to plan on something quiet."
Will nods. "Okay, I'll ask him. This whole 'working the next morning' thing really makes it hard to have a life."
I scowl at him, feeling a diatribe coming on about being over-privileged and not having to work, but I'm saved by the arrival of my beer. I take a sip of it and realize that I've regressed to the non-beer-drinker that I was at the beginning of the last party. Apparently it takes a little to drink a lot more.
"There's that face again," he says softly.
"I don't think I'm good at this," I state plainly, turning to look at him as he cuddles up a little to my back. "Will invited us to go clubbing tomorrow night."
"No. Tomorrow night is just you and me."
I smile back at him. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure," he says. "I vote we go dance," he adds with a gesture to where others are dancing.
I look at him skeptically. "I don't think I've had enough to drink for that yet."
"Come on," he says, literally pulling me out to the area in the living room, crammed with sweaty bodies, pulsating in general en masse to the beat of the song. "I'll show you."
He turns toward me and pulls me closer to him with his free hand, gripping his beer tightly. "First, hold on to your drink. Unless you want to dump it all over one of us."
"The look on your face would be priceless."
"Okay, I'll just amend that, then. Just hold on to your drink." He continues as I chuckle, gesturing toward Jen. "She might be a better one to teach you. Look at her."
"I know. I think she's a little crazy." I say with a nod to back up my point. Once you get that girl dancing, she just doesn't stop.
"Anyway, so just put your feet like this, kind of inside mine, and then do whatever you feel like doing with your arms and legs."
"That's not very specific," I complain as he starts dancing. He's positioned us so close that we rub against one another with pretty much every move. In fact, after about two songs, he leans over to whisper in my ear in a husky voice that I recognize.
"Let's go find a room," he says.
I scowl at him a little and thump him on the chest. "Could there be a more disgusting cliché?"
He frowns thoughtfully, but looks at me with the full wattage of a genuine smile. "Probably not."
I nod. "Okay, let's go." He immediately seizes my hand and leads me towards the hallway. I set my drink down on some random table as we go.
"So is this the room you take all the girls to?" I ask as he leads us into a bedroom far down the hall from the action. I sit on the bed as he turns to close the door.
"This is the spare room, so I know no one is going to come in." He says simply. "I met these guys the first week I was down here. I mean, other than being a bunch of rich kids with nothing to do other than party, they're fun."
I smile. "I don't know. I think you're pretty fun," I say teasingly.
"Oh, thanks for the compliment," he says dryly. "You know, the more I get to know you, the more of a smart ass you are. I don't know how much I like that."
"Well, if it weren't so easy to have fun at your expense, I have a feeling you would enjoy it more."
"I might." He says. "And here I've been trying to be polite all this time," he adds with a falsely rueful shake of his head. He chuckles as he drops down next to me on the bed.
"That was your first mistake."
"No…" he turns to look at me, a look that stops me in my sarcastic tracks. He's so serious and almost melancholy as he looks at me, finally reaching out to gingerly touch my face. He brushes an errant hair back over my shoulder and meets my eyes. "My first mistake was coming out to meet you that morning on the beach."
I scowl slightly. "What do you mean?"
He sighs. "Do you believe it's possible to fall in love at first sight?"
"I never used to." I say simply, unable to say anything else as I look at him looking at me.
"But you do now?"
"I…I'm not sure," I stammer. "I guess I haven't really stopped to think about it."
He closes his eyes and nods. "That's fair." He clears his throat. "I mean, we know you're leaving at the end of the summer. And we know that I'm not leaving any time soon."
"Right," I say, still searching his face for something I can recognize and hold on to. I'm getting to know him fairly well. I can tell by his face when he wants to kiss me, when he wants to hold on to me, when he wants to stay somewhere, when he wants to go. Somehow, we're developing our own secret language with each other. But right now, I don't recognize anything. The expression on his face is completely new to me.
"So, of course that would make you the worst possible person in the world for me to fall for, right?"
"What?" I ask, still confused and still a little wary of the expression on his face.
"So naturally, I have. I mean, I think I am."
"Falling for me?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.
"Yeah." He says simply.
Now, perhaps it's my lack of socialization. Perhaps it's my defense mechanisms, which are, by the way, screaming at me to get out of here while the getting is good. I'm not sure what it is, but something prompts my next somewhat breathlessly asked question. "How do you know?"
He studies me carefully for a long time, not fidgeting in the little ways that he's already noted that I do. In fact, he reaches out and stills my hands, where I'm wringing them carefully around each other. "I just know. I could spout off a thousand romantic little epithets, but it boils down to something much simpler. I just know."
I sigh. That doesn't help me at all. It doesn't help me untangle how I feel about him, because for all of my desire to leave it unexamined and just go with it, I want to know where it is that I'm heading. I want to know where exactly 'it' is going, and where I'm being taken.
"What's going on?" He finally asks, reaching out again to gently rub my lip where my teeth are doing their level best to rip a hole in the bottom one. I can feel the red tenderness of the spot already; I've chewed on it for so many consecutive minutes that it's starting to swell a little.
I look up at his eyes, confused and startled by his honesty and the way he can narrow something as complex as a feeling, an emotion, down to a statement of simple knowledge. How does he know? As he begins to trace randomly over the floral pattern on my skirt, split open at the side so a good portion of my leg is revealed, I suddenly become jumpy at the contact for reasons indefinable. I stand up, feeling the material of my skirt relax and fall to mid-calf, flowing easily around my legs as I begin to pace anxiously over the course of the floor.
"It's not as simple as asking me what's going on, because I have no idea. I've never done this before, I've never experienced anything like this before and I certainly can't explain it, not to you and not even to myself. Forgive me for taking a moment to try and gather my thoughts and for trying to put even a fraction of the thousands of things running through my mind at this moment into some sort of conversational verse." I stop to look at him. He's studying me intently, wearing the ghost of a frown and his mouth has started to fall slightly slack. "I don't understand how someone can just give that up and understand it and define it and talk about it because all it brings you is trouble and I don't know that I have it in me to withstand that kind of trouble right now because as you yourself pointed out at the beginning of this conversation, or maybe it was somewhere in the middle that I'm leaving at the end of the summer and there isn't really even time between now and then to stop and breathe, let alone examining any possible issues of abandonment or mistrust or anything else that could be…."
"Jo, you're babbling." He says simply, standing to pull me to a stop and make me look him in the eyes.
"Huh?"
"It's not even conscious? Do you even know what you're talking about?"
"What?" I ask again, looking at him and trying again, unsuccessfully, to define the look on his face.
"I wasn't talking," I say simply, looking at him as though he's shining a bright light into my eyes. I'm similarly disoriented by the disruption of my monologue.
"O…kay. Apparently I hit the crazy button." He says with a long, drawn out sigh. "Forget I said anything, okay?"
I swallow and look at him as I tug my hand through my hair. His face falls a little as he watches more of my obvious distress signals. "I'm not crazy," I protest feebly.
"I know you're not crazy," he says. "Let's just…let's just go."
I sigh as he gently takes my hand and leads me out of the room, not looking back at me. The pronounced detachment between us makes me sad, because regardless of definition, whatever it is that I've felt with him has always been warm and gentle. This is a little more acute, and a little lonelier. He approaches Will and Jen where they were cuddling in the Jacuzzi.
"Hey, thanks for the invite, but we're going to head out early." Pacey says flatly to them. "I'm not feeling too well."
For some reason, I can't look Jen in the eyes when she meets me with a questioning glance. I look away, study the richness of the 1970's architecture, anything to keep my eyes away from her as Pacey bids goodbye and pulls me out through the gate in the back. We walk silently along the beach toward the beach house, where he left his truck parked earlier.
"Pace…" I say, finally breaking the silence between us about a half mile down the beach.
"What?"
"I'm sorry it freaks me out," I say simply in a small voice. I look over at him seriously as he looks over at me with a sad smile. "It isn't that I don't have feelings for you, you know that. It's that I don't know exactly what that means yet."
"You don't have to apologize."
"I want to explain, but I don't know how. It's like the words don't exist in my vocabulary."
"It's okay," he says sharply. He looks at me with an apologetic glance that plainly states he wasn't intending that much force.
"No, it's not. It's groundbreaking for me, and I promise it's just going to take me some time to get it all under control."
"Why do you have to get it under control?" He says, bursting out in frustration.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me," he says with a pout, pulling his hand away from mine.
"I have to get it under control because you have it under control," I say, barely concealing the edge of defensiveness.
"I don't have it under control." He says with a wry chuckle. "Trust me, there's nothing about any of this that is in my control. The difference is that I can identify it, and that seems to irritate you."
"I'm a little jealous of that ability." I say, pulling roughly on the latch to the gate to Jen's. He lets me fiddle with it for a minute before he stills my hand, and gently flips the latch open. He holds it open for me and follows me to the back door of the house. I don't make eye contact with him until we're at the front door of the house. It's quite obvious where I stand tonight. He'll be heading to the boat straight from here, probably without looking back.
"Let's try something," he says, surprising me with his low, scratchy voice. The voice he has when he's turned on enough that his words are incoherent.
"Okay."
He reaches a hand up to my jaw, his lips on mine just seconds afterward. I feel his warmth spread through my body like wildfire. I swear he catches a few vital organs on fire with that kiss, and what his kiss doesn't warm, his hands do.
"How did that feel?" He asks as he pulls slowly away. I reluctantly open my eyes.
I smile softly at him. "I don't know how to describe it."
"Well, objectively you would use adjectives," he says teasingly. Although he's teasing, he knows it gives me a structure. It helps me.
My smile brightens a little. "Okay." I lick my lips, tasting a faint trace of him. "It was warm and soft." I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks. "It was you."
"And what exactly am I?"
"Wonderful." I say, my eyes slipping closed on my goofy grin.
He gives me another short kiss. "Well, there's something to help you start 'controlling' it all, then." He smiles as I open my eyes and the door.
"Good night, Jo."
"Good night." I say, my voice sounding sweet even to my own ears. He goes through the door, not looking back, but waving once he's in his truck and backing out of the driveway. I sigh and lean against the door, in a fabulous state of confusion. I want to know how he could confuse me without making it a bad thing. I'm completely upside down, but I'm more convinced than ever that the way to figure it out is to be with him.
I look at the phone warily. Would it do any good to call my sister at this point? All that happened last time was that I walked away upset and confused. At the same time, she knows me. She could provide valuable insight, and it would probably go a long way in reassuring her that I'm doing okay and that I've made a good decision. Surely she won't be angry anymore, right? We've had time to let the dust settle. I note the time before calling, only shortly before bedtime for Bessie. It's probably still early enough to call her. I pick up the phone and call home before I can give myself the chance to back out.
"Potter B&B," Bessie says simply, sounding tired.
"Hi, Bess. It's me."
"Joey?" She says, sounding a little angry and a little disbelieving. Maybe I didn't wait long enough to call.
"Yeah." I say.
She sighs resignedly. "You're really not coming home, are you?"
Inexplicably, I recall her harsh words last week and tears come to my eyes. "No."
After a long pause, she continues. "Are you okay?"
"Mostly," I say simply. "Are things there okay?"
"We miss you."
This is a far departure from the bitter, angry, and accusatory sister that I spoke with last week. "I miss you guys, too. I really do."
"I thought about calling you yesterday…" she begins simply. "I think you might be psychic or something."
"Why is that?"
Her voice trembles a little as she continues softly. "Joey, dad's here. He showed up on my doorstep last night. I'm so glad you aren't here right now."
The tears spill over. I'm glad I'm not there, too. I don't know what I would do if I saw him. "I'm sorry."
"No, Joey, it's a good thing. It's a good thing for me that he's here. I think…well, you and I have been a little different all along in this respect. I've needed closure with him. For you, it was like the wound was cauterized. It was so swift and so severe there was never a chance for you to have anything but anger for him. But I…I needed to understand."
"Why is he there?" I ask, suddenly angry and defensive for her.
"He's here to say goodbye. He was released last month, and they've had him living in a halfway house near the prison. He was only just released on parole and given permission to find his own boarding in Boston. He'll be gone at the beginning of next week. And he swears that he won't be back."
"Good," I say petulantly, sounding more like a child than the adult I'm trying to convince her I'm becoming.
"Look, let me boil everything I've been going through this week down to you." Bessie says sharply. "I'm very angry that you deserted us. There is nothing you can do to change that." She clips the sentence against my protest, which dies before it leaves my lips. "But obviously you feel this is something you have to do, and I'm honestly not really willing to lose my only sister over this anger. So I'm sorry that I told you that you're unwelcome here. Bodie and I have talked a lot about it, he's done a lot of playing the devil's advocate in the past few days, and you're still our family."
"Thank you," I say simply.
"But I still don't understand it, and I don't think I ever will."
"I'm just asking you to tolerate it more than anything else," I say simply.
"I guess I can do that, but just barely."
I grab a blanket and wrap it around myself tightly. "Can I ask you a question? I need some advice."
"Oh, and here I thought you were calling to make amends," she teases.
"Well, that was the biggest part of it, and if you don't want to help me, I won't force you to."
"No, ask your question."
"What does it feel like to fall in love?" I ask finally, wondering if that's really what's happening.
"I don't know." She says honestly. "I just sort of looked back on it after it happened. One day, I was just there."
"That doesn't help."
"If you have to ask, then I'll guess that you aren't." She says dryly. "I would also say that because you've only been there a week."
"I know, but I met an amazing guy my first day here. He told me that he's falling for me, and I don't know what to do."
"Slow down."
"I don't know that slowing down is really going to do any good at this point."
"Why, have you slept with him?"
"No!" I say indignantly. "Of course I haven't."
"Then slow down," she says pointedly. "It isn't worth getting hurt over. You're not there permanently anyway, so why bring a permanent emotion into it?"
"It's not like it's voluntary."
"That's true," she allows. "Just go slow. Be sure of what you feel before you make the commitment of saying it out loud."
I nod. "Okay. Thanks for your advice."
"You're welcome."
"I'll let you get to bed, but give everyone there a kiss from me," I say. "Have Bodie give you yours."
She chuckles. "Okay. Good night."
"Good night." I hang up the phone, still feeling confused more than ever. It's about then that I realize no one can tell me if I'm falling in love with Pacey but myself. I just wish I knew.
