January 18. On Tuesday evening when he finished his shift at the video store, he went straight over to the Potter's. Yesterday, when they'd been walking together to one of their classes, Joey had willingly agreed to help him run his lines in preparation for Barefoot in the Park. They had been going through the play for the past two nights. He paced around her living room while she read from his copy of the play.
"I'll come down when you've said it again, loud and clear," he recited enthusiastically as the character Paul.
"What? Anything, Paul," Joey sat on the couch and read from the playbook in a monotonous tone.
"Paul Bratter," he continued.
"Paul Bratter…"
He almost laughed at her dull reading, which had been amusing him all night. "Rising young attorney."
"Rising young attorney," Joey mimicked.
He raised his hand in the air, pointing emphatically. "Is a lousy, stinking drunk."
She suddenly blushed, like she'd been doing every time she got to similar lines, and blatantly avoided looking at him as she spoke. "Is a lousy, stinking drunk, and I love him."
He gazed at her and butterflies filled his stomach. He became distracted by the shape of her mouth, the soft swell of her pouting bottom lip and the curve of the top one. He wanted to press his mouth to hers, to follow its shape with the tip of his tongue before slipping inside. Heat surged in his blood. His groin tightened. He clenched his jaw. Goddammit, he was driving himself crazy. Why did he torment himself like this? What was my line? Oh, right. "I love you, too."
She cleared her throat. "The line is, 'I love you, too, Corie.' You keep forgetting your wife's name, Pacey."
"Right." He paced the room, trying to ignore the butterflies. "I love you, too, Corie." He then turned to Joey and smiled. "I mean, even when I didn't like you, I loved you." They were just lines belonging to a fictional character, but the words rang true to him and his heart swelled with affection for her as he said them.
"Then please come down, darling," she continued reading. "Please." She then tossed the playbook aside and smiled at him. "You did great, Pacey. You know it like the back of your hand. I didn't have to prompt you much at all."
"Thanks, Jo. But, uh, there's still more of the scene to do here."
She pursed her lips and stood up from the couch. "I'm not kissing you."
He shrugged, grinning at her. "Your loss, Potter."
Joey rolled her eyes and walked into the kitchen. "I'm starving. Is dinner ready yet?"
The door then opened and Bodie stepped inside the house. Joey turned, rushing over to him, and gave him a hug. "Nice to be home," he said.
"What are you doing here on a Tuesday?" she asked.
"I've got tomorrow off," he shrugged.
Alexander came running into the room, closely followed by Bessie, and Bodie pulled them into his arms. He then stepped forward to greet him. "Good to see you, Pacey."
They shook hands. "You, too, Bodie. You're just in time for dinner."
Not long after, he was carrying the pan of homemade mac-and-cheese from the oven and to the table. He then dished up for Joey, Bessie, Bodie, and Alexander before spooning some onto his own plate and sitting down. He watched with bated breath as they picked up their forks, dug into the hot food, and lifted it to their mouths.
Bodie turned a wide-eyed gaze at him. "You made this?"
Joey hummed in satisfaction. "This is really good, Pacey."
"So good," Bessie agreed.
He let out the breath he'd been holding, his heart swelling with their approval. "Thanks." He then began eating. "Oh yeah," he said appreciatively after he took his first bite. "This is good stuff."
After Bodie filled them in on the stressful life of being a line cook in a popular Boston restaurant, Joey cleared her throat and then announced, "I have some news."
"You're quitting school and becoming a spokesperson for the Ab Roller," he quipped.
Bessie and Bodie laughed while she pulled a face at him. "While that sounds like an enticing career, no. Principal Green called me to his office today and told me that I was one of three students to be selected to paint a mural in one of the hallways at school."
His eyes went wide. "Wow, Jo. That's great!"
"Congrats," Bodie offered.
"Really incredible, Joey," said Bessie. "And such an honor to be selected."
She blushed under their praise. "Thanks. The theme is unity and school spirit. I have no idea what I'm going to paint, but I have a month to work on it."
Smiling, he gazed at her from across the table. "I know you'll paint something amazing."
Joey chewed on her lip and tucked her hair behind her ears. "We'll see."
Later, he stood next to Joey in the kitchen while she filled the sink with hot, soapy water. He tossed a dishcloth over his shoulder. She looked at him and grinned. "My dad used to help my mom do the dishes every night. I'd sit at the table, doing my homework or reading a book, and watch them stand in front of the sink together. Sometimes the radio would be on and they'd, like, sway from side to side while she handed him dishes to dry." She laughed under her breath at the memory.
He smiled, gazing intently at her, eating up every word. He wanted to know everything about her. He wanted every memory, every detail. His mind wandered to an alternate universe where he and Joey were the ones married, swaying together in the kitchen while their kids sat around the table. She glanced up at him, and her smile faltered at the look in his eye. "What is it?"
"Hmm?" He caught himself, realizing he needed to stop letting his mind wander to these places. Good lord, he'd actually been thinking about marriage and kids and white picket fences. "Nothing. It's nothing."
Joey shook her head and returned her attention to the sink. "Does your father do the dishes?" She handed him a plate to dry.
He laughed derisively. "Uh, no. Sheriff John Witter is a man's man."
She plunged her hands into the soapy water again. "How does your mom feel about that?"
"My dad has never done a dish in his life and I'm sure my mom would be horrified if he tried. The kitchen is the woman's domain," he said dryly. "They completely agree about that. She made herself into exactly the kind of woman he wanted her to be. If she ever wanted to be anything else, do anything for herself, you'd never know. She's the sheriff's wife, and that's all."
"Maybe that's all she wants to be," Joey shrugged.
He placed a dried plate in the cupboard above the counter. "Apparently. I just can't stand the way she caters to him, the way he pats her on the head and calls her 'little woman.' I mean, my mom is six feet tall." He sighed. "But the strange thing is, they're happy together. I don't get them at all, but they don't get me either. So…"
She handed him another clean plate. "Have you told them about the play?"
"Yep."
"And?"
He sighed. "My dad laughed, made some homophobic crack about actors, and left the room. My mom said it'd be too difficult for her to watch me fall on my face in front of hundreds of people, but if opening night isn't a disaster then she'll come see it on Saturday or Sunday if she's not too busy." Scoffing, he shook his head. "Busy doing what?"
Joey frowned. "I'm sorry, Pace."
"Oh well. At least you'll be there opening night. That's all I care about, really." He paused, a flush creeping into his face. "You know, uh, my friends being there, you and Dawson. Then at the after party at the Crown & Anchor, we'll either celebrate my success or mourn my abysmal failure. Oh, and Gretchen said she's coming down on Saturday to see the play, so that's good. I feel like it's been forever since I've seen her."
"That's nice your sister is making an effort," she replied.
"She's the only Witter who gives a damn about me."
She offered him a wet glass. "What about your other sisters?"
Dish towel in hand, he dried the glass and set it in the proper cupboard. "The two eldest Witter children are consumed with their own lives. Carrie and Amy both married military men right out of high school, popped out a bunch of kids, and ended up being miserable. The life of a teenage little brother can't compete with their daily drama. With Amy in North Carolina and Carrie living on the base at Hanscom, I honestly don't see them except for holidays. They're not about to show up at my play."
"Well, what about Doug? He must care, Pacey. Otherwise, he probably wouldn't give you such a hard time."
"He has his moments, I guess, but they're few and far between. I told him about the play, but he said he has to work. He couldn't possibly switch shifts or ask for a night off, you know, even though his father is the town sheriff. He also doesn't think that watching teenage thespians, and I quote, 'butcher iconic characters' is his idea of a fun way to spend an evening. So, there you go."
When the dishes were all cleaned and dried and put away, he walked out to the living room and shrugged on his coat. "I'll see you tomorrow," he told her.
"Can you give me a ride to school?" she asked as she followed him into the room.
"Sure." He then gave her a look. "Uh, not that I mind giving you rides, but have you thought about finally getting your license, Joey? You've had your permit for over a year."
She frowned. "I've thought about it, but it's winter and that's probably not the best time to begin my foray into licensed driving. Besides, the truck is a stick shift and it's too confusing. Bessie tried to show me, but she gave up."
He stepped over to the door, placing his hand on the knob. "I could show you. After this weekend, I'll be done with the play, and then my evenings will be free to spend them doing whatever you wanna do. We can take the truck out and practice every day when I get out of work next week."
"I don't know, Pacey…"
"What? Are you scared? Is my skittish kitten afraid of getting behind the wheel?" He pouted sympathetically before letting out a breathy laugh.
She huffed in annoyance. "No, I'm not scared."
Doubtful. "Come on, Jo. I can teach you. I'll be like Lloyd Dobbler in Say Anything."
"Well, you both have that whole noble underachiever thing going for you," she joked, rolling her eyes and giving him a smile. "I'll think about it."
He smiled in return and then said goodnight.
January 21. The packed auditorium thundered loudly on Friday night, everyone standing to their feet and clapping at the curtain call. He looked out at the sea of faces and saw their smiles, heard their whistles and cheers. As he scanned the audience, he focused on the back of the room seeking one special person, hoping she'd somehow changed her mind. It was stupid to think she might've just shown up. That she might've bailed on her date with college guy to come support him. Stupid, but he searched the crowd anyway. She wasn't there. Joey hadn't shown, and disappointment filled him once again.
Later, at the after party, Joey did show up, which was somewhat encouraging, but then college guy showed up, too. Once the spectacle between Jen and that freshman, Henry Parker, came to an end, he sat at a table watching her smile at A.J. She played with her fingers and shyly tucked her hair behind an ear. He felt sick and overwhelmed with a great pain in his chest. He told himself it wasn't jealousy. He refused to be jealous of some Latin-speaking poetry geek. It was the fact she'd skipped out on seeing him in the play, and all to go watch some lights in the sky with a guy she'd only known for a month. It was just a painful reminder that she didn't feel for him the same way he felt for her.
As he sat there, her words ran around and around inside his head.
"How could I ever feel about him the way that I…"
"Feel about Dawson."
"No, I was… I was actually going to say 'felt.'"
He not only had this college geek to compete with, but also her history with Dawson. Yet a hopeful feeling had slightly rose in his chest when she'd said "felt." Past tense. Was it possible she was finally over Dawson? That she no longer loved him like she used to? He could only hope. It was at least a small step in the right direction. He wanted her to care for him, really care for him. He wanted her to open her eyes to the reality of his feelings for her. He wanted to love her, completely, freely. He wanted to make her happy if she'd only give him the chance. She wasn't even aware of how her proximity affected him, how it made his heart want to jump out of his chest whenever she was near.
He wanted her love like he needed air to breathe. He knew down to the depths of his soul that he'd never want anyone else but her, and in some way, he'd always known it. He knew she now had him wrapped around her finger, and that he'd probably do anything to make her care for him even a tenth as much as he cared for her. For him, she was first, now and always. But she didn't even see him as a friend worth skipping out on some sky-gazing for, and with a guy she'd just met, to see him perform in a play, knowing how hard he'd worked at it for weeks.
"You're not exactly celebratory this evening."
The familiar voice broke his reverie. He turned to see his best friend taking the seat at the table next to him. "I'm just tired. It's been a stressful day."
Dawson took a sip from his drink. "Yeah. Well, now you can put that stage fright behind you because you were awesome, Pacey. Really. I mean it. You were great up there. I'm proud of you."
"Thanks, man. I appreciate that." He sighed. "Only two more shows to go and then it's over."
"And I'll be at both of them."
The not-so-strange guilt was back. "You don't need to come to all three shows, Dawson. I'm sure you have other stuff you can be doing."
"I know I don't need to, Pacey. I want to." Dawson turned and looked towards the entrance. "That's him? That's the college guy?" he asked, sounding unimpressed. "The poetry geek as you've named him?"
He turned to see A.J. chatting with Joey. "Yeah. That's him."
Dawson scoffed.
"You know, you're acting very chill about all this. Why aren't you, of all people, more upset at this turn of events?"
"That guy?" Dawson thumbed in A.J.'s general direction. "I've got nothing to worry about."
His brows furrowed and he watched the guy help Joey put her coat on. "But doesn't the very idea of Joey being with someone else bother you? Isn't she supposed to be your soulmate, Dawson? Isn't your future happy ending threatened by this at all?"
Dawson laughed, scoffing again. "I don't feel threatened, Pacey. There is no way Joey is going to have a future with that guy. Whatever she has with him isn't going to last, so there's no reason for me to get upset over it. Just by looking at him, he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who can make her happy. There's no way she'll ever have something with him that's better or more meaningful than what we have. He doesn't seem like the type who can make her fall head over heels, you know? And the poetry stuff you told me about? Sweet, sure, but that's not what lasting relationships are built on. Now, a love built on friendship…" He took a sip from his drink. "We have a solid foundation that nothing else can compete with. So, her dating this college guy doesn't really matter in the big scheme of things. All roads lead back to me."
Before he could reply, they were interrupted by Nikki Green. "Hi, Pacey. Great job tonight. My dad said to tell you that you were wonderful and he's really proud. He's sorry he couldn't make it to the after party, but he'll be at the play again tomorrow night and will try to talk to you then."
At hearing Principal Green's praise, a slight feeling of elation pushed through the depression. "Wow. Thanks, Nikki."
She smiled. "Um, Dawson, do you think you could give me a ride home?"
His friend nodded. "Uh, yeah, sure." He stood up from the table. "Bye, Pacey. I can't wait for tomorrow night's show."
"Thanks for being here. It means a lot. See ya, Dawson."
He stared after him as he walked away with Nikki. Dawson's words rang inside his head. He recalled the night his friend had caught him at the Starlight Dance Studio with Joey and nearly had an aneurysm at the thought she was involved with him. Yet Dawson truly seemed fine with her dating this college guy. So, then why would it be such a problem if he was the guy in question? Why would that make Dawson freak out, but not this? Realization then slowly dawned on him. Dawson didn't see A.J. as a threat to his relationship with Joey. Dawson didn't see A.J. as someone who could make Joey fall in love, someone worthy enough, someone who could compete with him for soulmate status. But Pacey Witter was obviously a whole other story.
He didn't know whether to feel bolstered by this knowledge, or even more hopeless. There had been many times over the past week that he'd wanted to tell Joey how he felt. He'd come close several times, but just couldn't do it. He couldn't see any outcome that was good. If he confessed his feelings, knowing full well she didn't return them, he could kiss their friendship goodbye. He may as well toss in his friendship with Dawson right along with it. If he confessed his feelings and Joey actually found it in her heart to care for him, the very act of the two of them getting together would be like launching a grenade into their entire social circle; all he could see were casualties. He'd rather keep Joey as a friend than not have her at all. He'd rather hold onto something than lose everything.
Later, when he walked to the Crown & Anchor's parking lot with Andie, he felt better than he had all night. She chatted away, full of ideas for school projects or extracurricular activities she wanted to throw herself into. He smiled to himself while she talked. When they reached his mom's wagon, the conversation trailed off and an awkward silence filled the space between them. He didn't want it to be awkward with Andie anymore. Doing the play with her only reminded him of all the reasons he'd liked her in the first place, reminded him of her unique charm and spark. He had forgotten how much he missed it.
"Well, goodnight, Pacey," she finally said.
"Uh, Andie…" He hesitated, not knowing how she'd react, or even if he was making a smart move. He went for it, anyway. "I know things were kind of weird and uncomfortable at first, but I really enjoyed doing the play. I had fun with you."
She beamed. "Me, too, Pacey."
Nodding, he smiled nervously. "I was wondering if… Well, now that the play is pretty much over… I mean, well I hope that doesn't mean we won't, you know, hang out anymore. And I wanted to know if it would be okay if we still hung out… once in a while?" She gazed up at him, surprised, and nerves tightened in his gut. "It's okay if you don't want to, or feel like you can't or shouldn't. I completely understand. It's just that… Well, I guess I wanted to know if…"
He sighed. Why was this so hard? "Do you think there will ever be a time—hopefully sooner rather than later—when we could be friends?" A lump of emotion formed in the back of his throat, and horrified, he felt tears suddenly threatening. "I, uh, I could really use a friend right now." A friend who wasn't Dawson or Joey, he thought miserably.
"I've always been your friend, Pacey," she said sweetly.
"You know what I mean, Andie."
She smiled up at him. "I do. And, uh, yeah. I miss you, Pacey." Her eyes widened, as if she caught herself, and she started speaking fast. "I don't want you to think I mean I want to get back together. I know that won't happen, and I've come to terms with it. Really. It's fine. I'm fine. This is the best I've been in a long time, thanks to the play, and you, too. And I do miss just being around you, Pacey. You're fun and funny, and you're a wonderful person. I miss that. And, so, it would be totally fine with me if you wanted to hang out sometimes. We could totally be friends. It's totally fine with me."
Shaking his head, he grinned down at her. "Thanks, McPhee. You're fun and funny and a wonderful person, too. But you said the word 'fine' like five times, so I'm kind of doubtful here. I don't want you to feel obligated to agree to be friends, but inside you're not actually fine and it's difficult for you. I don't want to hurt you, Andie. Please be honest with me."
She smiled sadly. "You know I love you, Pacey. A part of me probably always will, but I don't think that's a bad thing. We had something really special and it meant a lot to me. I will always regret hurting you, and the way things ended between us. It was the last thing I ever wanted. I know we can't go back to the way it was before, and it's okay. I mean, it sucks, but it's okay. I'll be okay. We'll both be okay. And I still want you in my life. You're the best friend anyone could ever hope for, the best teacher and protector. I'd seriously be missing out if I passed on an opportunity to have you as my friend. There isn't a better one out there."
"Have you considered writing greeting cards for a living?" he joked, trying to make light of the jumble of emotions surging through him.
Andie rolled her eyes and laughed. "Anyway, I'll see you back at the school for round two, Witter. I know you'll knock 'em dead again tomorrow night."
Smiling, pulled her into another hug. He knew in his heart that her friendship meant a lot to him—more than he could ever express in words. "Goodnight, Andie."
The next night, he performed to another packed house. He sometimes caught glimpses of the audience throughout the evening. Despite his parents and Doug apparently being a no-show once again, his heart leapt at the sight of Joey smiling in the crowd from the center of the third row. It was a smile that made his heart melt. Yet she sat next to Dawson, and he often noticed them lean into one another and whisper or laugh. A cold resentment would wash over him at the sight.
When he walked back onstage for another thunderous curtain call, the applause of his teachers, peers, and other parents filling the auditorium, he heard one set of hands clapping louder than all the rest.
"WAY TO GO, PACEY!"
He recognized the voice, ringing out like a bell above the noise. He gazed out into the crowd, searching for her. He then turned and saw Gretchen standing off to the side, saw her bright smile, her proud eyes, and his heart swelled, full to bursting. He visibly started to glow, with gratitude, with love, as he took his final bow before the audience. Backstage, Principal Green was waiting for him, and shook his hand enthusiastically, again praising him for his efforts. He felt truly touched, the feeling lifting his spirits as he walked into the dressing room.
After he'd changed out of his costume and washed the makeup from his face, he made his way to the school lobby where he found Gretchen there waiting for him. He hugged his sister tightly, lifting her a foot off the floor. She smiled and hugged him. "I've missed you so much," he said as he set her back down on the ground.
Gretchen smiled up at him. "I've missed you, too, Pacey." Her eyes roamed over his face, and then her smile faltered. Her face became an expression of concern. "Do you want to skip the after party and maybe go out somewhere, just the two of us? We can get some something to eat and… talk."
He clenched his jaw as he suddenly felt his throat tighten with emotion. Nodding, he said, "Yeah."
They walked out of the school and into the cold night air, snow falling around them, and bumped into Dawson and Joey, who greeted them happily. "You did great, Pacey," she said, smiling and laying a soft, gloved hand on his arm. "Just like I knew you would."
He tensed abruptly and shrugged his arm free. He didn't want her touching him. "Yeah, you called it," he deadpanned. He saw her brows knit, as if confused at his reaction to her. The fact she hadn't come to see him opening night still felt raw. His emotions were a jumbled mess. He was hopelessly in love with her, and craved her smiles, kind words, and brief touches, but underneath a sordid mixture of fear, anger, sadness, exasperation, and disappointment battled for dominance.
"I didn't think it was possible, Pacey, but you were even better tonight than last night," his best friend complimented.
Nodding, he half-smiled. "Thanks, Dawson."
Joey frowned. "I'm sorry your parents weren't here. They should've been."
"Yeah, they should've." He could feel Gretchen staring at him and he forced himself not to make eye contact.
Dawson pursed his lips. "So, you heading to the after party? Don't think any freshmen will climb the rafters tonight, but there might be some amusement."
He shook his head. "We're going out," he replied, nodding at Gretchen. "But you two should definitely go to the after party and have fun. Mingle. Canoodle. Whatever."
"Canoodle?" Joey threw him a baffled look.
"Anyway, goodnight," he said, ignoring her.
"Goodnight, Pacey," Dawson responded. "See you at tomorrow's show."
He turned and started walking away from them. "It was nice seeing you again," he heard Gretchen say to Dawson and Joey behind him. She was soon at his side, keeping stride with him through the parking lot. "You were kind of rude to Joey back there, Pace. I thought you were friends now."
He sighed. "We are."
"Did you drive?" she asked.
"Nope. I got a ride with Jack and Andie. Mom was out grocery shopping and Dad took his car to poker night with the fellas. You know, the important things that make them miss their son performing in the school play."
After they got into Gretchen's car, they drove downtown. "I need to stop at the ATM first," he told her. "My bank is right next to Parker's Grille."
She eyed him. "I can pay for dinner, Pacey. This is your special night."
"You are a college girl living off student loans and a part-time job at one of Boston's 327 Irish pubs. I can treat you to a meal."
"Ahh," she replied knowingly. "The illustrious Pacey Witter savings account."
He chuckled. "There are a lot of things I'm not good at, Gretchen, but I can save money like a champ."
Once she parked the car on Main Street in front of the Capeside Five Cents Savings Bank, they walked together to the ATM at the front of the building. Then he entered his PIN and withdrew 40 dollars, placing the cash inside his wallet. Then he retrieved the receipt and looked at the balance.
"I've never seen anyone smile when reading their bank balance," Gretchen remarked.
"There's a first time for everything."
When they entered the restaurant, they shook the snow off their coats and hung them on a rack near the door. Then they were fortunate to be seated at a table in a quiet corner despite the room being crowded, and soon ordered off the menu. As he lifted his glass of Coke, his sister leaned forward, placing her arms on the table and smirking at him. "So… are you going to tell me how much you've saved, or not?"
Hesitating, he took a sip through the straw.
Gretchen stared. "You don't want me to know?"
"I just don't want it generally known," he said pointedly. "What's the opposite of the Midas Touch? Because whatever that is, I've got it. So, I don't want to send a number out there into the universe because I feel like I'll jinx it."
"I won't say anything, Pacey." When he still wouldn't reply, she drummed her fingers on the table. "Okay, well, let me see if I can figure it out." She cleared her throat. "Last I knew, you made almost six dollars an hour at the video store, and you work twenty hours a week."
Grinning, he nodded. "Forty in the summer."
She pursed her lips, her eyes rolling as she did mental calculations. "Okay. I'm going to guess that after taxes, you bring home about six-thousand-five-hundred dollars a year."
"More like sixty-three hundred," he corrected. "You should probably take a math class, Gretchen."
"And you've been working at the video store since you were fourteen," she stated, ignoring his good-humored jab.
He nodded again. "It'll be three years in March. Right after Dawson's birthday, we both applied there."
Gretchen hummed. "I'm gonna say you've saved about six grand."
"More."
"Seven thousand?"
"A lot more."
She gave him a look of disbelief. "Nine thousand?"
"More." He grinned. "I told you I save like a champ, and my biggest expense so far has been the True Love, which I bought for two hundred bucks, plus the supplies I needed to repair it, which weren't cheap."
Her eyes widened. "Pacey, you could buy yourself a car. You wouldn't have to borrow Mom's or steal Dad's anymore."
He shrugged and tilted his head from side to side. "Yeah, I could. But the money isn't for a car. It's my fuck-off-Capeside fund. I'm not touching the money until after I graduate and get the hell out of here." Then he stared hard at his sister. "And I mean it, Gretchen. You can't say anything."
"I promise, Pacey. I won't."
Their food arrived and he dug in to his burger and fries. His sister gazed at him across the table, watching him for a moment while she ate her salad. After taking a sip of her water, she finally spoke. "So, are you going to tell me why you were so cold to Joey earlier?"
Inwardly groaning, he finished chewing and swallowed. "Where do I even begin," he sighed. "Well, she couldn't be bothered with coming to see the play opening night, even though she knew how hard I'd worked on it for the past six weeks, not to mention the fact that during all that time I also bent over backwards to help get her and Bessie's bed and breakfast operating. But who cares about that, right?"
Gretchen frowned. "Why didn't she come see you last night?"
"She had a date," he grumbled before dipping a fry into some ketchup. "With some college geek she met in Boston a month ago who reads poems to her over the phone."
"Ahh," said his sister. "It all becomes clear."
He threw her an exasperated look. "Don't start."
She forked her salad. "Why can't you just admit how you feel about her, Pacey? You'll drive yourself crazy the longer you deny it, and then you'll just end up bitter and angry. I mean, look at you. You're already miserable."
"I'm not denying anything, Gretchen. It's an impossible situation."
"What's so impossible about it?" she asked gently.
Frustration welled up inside him. "Let's see… One, she doesn't like me. Two, she'll always compare whoever she does like to Dawson, and who can live up to that? And last, but surely not least, Dawson himself."
Gretchen considered what he said for a moment while she ate her food. After she'd swallowed her bite, she spoke. "I don't see what's so impossible about it."
"Are you serious?" he gaped.
"Let's tackle them one at time," she asserted. "The first one: you say she doesn't like you. Well, that's not what I saw outside the school tonight. She was beaming at you, Pace."
He blinked. "She doesn't like me in a way that is relevant to my current situation, Gretchen. Does she consider me a friend? Yes, I think so. Anything more than that…?" He shrugged sarcastically.
She smiled patiently. "And what have you done to show her how you feel? To make her see you in a different light, as someone with more to offer than just friendship?"
"I've done plenty of things," he said defensively. "I helped with the B&B, I was her shoulder to cry on when she took her breakup with Dawson really hard, I've taken care of her… I've been there for her, okay?"
"But have you really spelled it out for her, Pacey? Have you made yourself clear? Have you tried anything overtly romantic that can't be misconstrued as something else?"
He turned his attention back to his French fries, avoiding her direct gaze. "Like a grand romantic gesture, you mean? Like Lloyd Dobbler holding up that boombox outside Diane Court's bedroom window?"
Gretchen pursed her lips, eyeing him. "Couldn't hurt. Okay, so… Dawson. You're his best friend. You two have been thick as thieves since you were five years old. Dawson and Joey aren't together anymore. So, if she decides to date someone else, then he'll just have to get over it. Sure, he would probably be upset at first, but in time he'd see that you're the same Pacey you've always been and that your friendship is irreplaceable."
"I don't think you understand just how dedicated he can be to self-involved drama," he said dryly. "But hopefully you're right."
"And you also say that Joey will always compare anyone she likes to Dawson. Have you considered that that might be a good thing? That there are guys out there with a lot more to offer Joey than what Dawson can offer her?"
"Well, I guess we'll see how well it goes with the poetry geek," he snarked.
"I was talking about you, Pacey."
Staring down at his plate, he sighed. "Can we change the subject, please? Tell me about what's going on with you. How's school? What's up with that guy you were seeing? Nick? Are you going to spend the summer in Maine, or what?"
He then tried his best to focus on Gretchen, but his mind wouldn't cooperate. The problem was, Dawson and Joey were both his best friends. Doing anything about this situation would hurt at least one of them, and more likely all three of them. He knew Dawson didn't value her like he should, or in a way that wasn't wholly unselfish. Whenever his friend had talked about Joey and their relationship, it was always about what she could do to make him happy. How he needed her by his side to help make his dreams come true, so he could live out the movie he'd written inside his head that, no matter what, ended with a happily-ever-after with his soulmate.
It was never the other way around—never about what he could do to make Joey happy, or make her dreams come true. He knew Dawson didn't deserve her. Yet Dawson was the Hollywood-bound wunderkind, destined for success. He could probably give her the kind of life she deserved. Joey was also bound for college, and he knew she had a brilliant future in front of her. He'd be lucky if he graduated high school. What could he offer her, really? Only himself, and he knew deep down that wasn't enough.
When they finished their meal and he paid the check, Gretchen drove him home. She came inside the house for a few minutes. He said goodnight to her in the kitchen, hugging her and telling her he'd call her sometime. Then he quietly retreated to his bedroom upstairs as she began to scold their parents for missing the play. Closing his door, he shut himself away.
February. On Friday morning while he stood in front of his locker, taking his Chemistry textbook out, Joey came up beside him. "Are you mad at me or something?" she blurted.
He closed his locker door. "Why would I be mad at you?"
"Well, you haven't come over all week. I'm supposed to be helping you with your homework, remember? And you haven't picked me up for school. You've barely spoken to me while in school. Are you upset about something, Pacey?"
"No," he lied. He had thought keeping his distance from Joey would help, but he was now starting to think that it only served to make him even more angry and frustrated when she was around. "I've been busy."
She scoffed. "Busy. Right. Your life consists of school, working four days a week—and you're usually out by eight o'clock—and then you come over to my house."
His jaw clenched. "Maybe I got sick of being interrupted by college guy's phone calls. It's hard to stay on top of this trig stuff when you keep leaving the room so some Renaissance nerd can read you a poem."
"So, then what have you been doing with yourself?" she asked, ignoring his remark. "Because I asked Dawson what you've been up to and he said he hasn't seen you much either."
Shaking his head, he started heading towards Chemistry class. "I've been working on True Love. You remember that project I started back in the fall that I sidelined to help you and Bessie get the B&B in working order?"
"What's with the tone, Pacey? You know how much we appreciate everything you've done for us. And I'm sorry that you haven't been able to work on your boat as much as you might've liked, but that was entirely your choice."
"You're right. It was." He glanced at her while she walked beside him; she was frowning. A pang of guilt shot through him. "Look, I don't have to work tonight, so I've got the evening free. We can hang out and wallpaper each other like we've been meaning to. And I can pick you up for school on Monday?"
She rolled her eyes, fighting a smile. "Isn't Monday Valentine's Day?"
"Yeah," he answered, his heart suddenly pounding beneath his ribs. "You got plans? Are you going to skip school that day or something? Go up to the city and have some poems read to you in person?"
She scowled. "Actually, Dawson is supposed to teach me to drive stick and I think he said something about us taking the truck to school on Monday."
Disappointment welled up inside him. "You asked Dawson to teach you how to drive?" His face fell and he frowned. "I told you I could show you."
She shrugged and avoided eye contact. "I know, but the idea of driving is scary. I'm scared, okay? I admit it. And so, yeah, I asked Dawson to teach me. It's nothing against you. He's just the first person I thought of to help me out in a scary situation. You know, I trust him. He's been there for me through every scary thing I've dealt with in my life, through every milestone, every big change. Driving a car is another one, and it's overwhelming. So, I asked Dawson."
Joey paused, and then looked at him again and smiled reassuringly. His face must've betrayed the sadness and disappointment he was feeling. "You can still come to my house Monday morning and ride to school with us. I'm sure you won't want to miss out on how hilariously bad I am at driving stick."
After responding with a half-hearted laugh, he kept silent for the remainder of their walk to Chemistry class. As he took his seat right behind her and gazed at the back of her head, the old familiar feelings of unworthiness threatened to rise up and choke him. Was this how it was always going to be with her? He was always going to come in second to Dawson, no matter what he did or how hard he tried? He wanted to be seen as worthy, deserving, in her eyes. Did he have any hope of gaining her affection? Was it possible for her to ever love him back, even if not as much as he loved her? And even if she did, would they be able to weather the perfect storm it would undoubtedly create in their lives? Why did he keep tormenting himself over an impossible situation?
On Monday as they walked to lunch, Joey was hounding him in the school hallway about his plans to attend senior Matt Caufield's anti-Valentine's Day party that night with Dawson. While Jack had scored the password, they'd yet to discover its secret location. They hadn't given up, though, and Joey had done nothing but nag him every chance she got about it.
"Pacey, please change your mind about going to this party," she pleaded for what seemed liked the fiftieth time that morning.
"Would you give it up, Jo? Jesus. You won't quit."
"Well, your moral compass needs calibrating," she quipped. "Why won't you see reason? Six months ago, that Hopkins kid went to the hospital with alcohol poisoning after going to a Matt Caufield party. Remember last year? There was the party where Crystal Moore got knocked up and she had no idea who the father was and she had to drop out of school. And then remember what happened to Kim Sokernyk and the Davidson girl at the party he threw over Spring Break? They had to get their stomachs pumped, and God knows what else they got involved in at that party. They couldn't show their faces in school for weeks. They missed their junior prom!"
He heaved a frustrated sigh. "Potter, are you in training for the talking Olympics? Congrats, you're gold-medal material."
She grabbed his arm, turning him to look at her. "Are you trying to ruin Dawson's life?"
"Look, Joey, just because Dawson has been a little lost lately and doesn't know what to do with himself, going to one party doesn't mean you're losing him to the depths of Hell." He wished she'd just let go and let Dawson live his life. There could be only one reason she kept freaking out about their friend attending a wild party, and cold resentment rose up inside him. Maybe she wasn't over him after all.
"You know there will be drugs at this party, Pacey—and I don't mean a few burn-outs passing around a joint—hardcore drugs."
He glowered at her. "Good. I wonder how much I need to put me out of my misery."
Her mouth fell open in shock. "Pacey!"
"Joey!" he mocked in a high voice.
They were then walking into the cafeteria. After he filled up a lunch tray, he sat down at a table next to Andie. She gave him a surprised smile at his sudden appearance by her side. It wasn't long before they were joined by Jack and Jen, and soon Dawson and Joey had sat down with them. The conversation almost immediately fell to the party plans.
"You're gonna come to the party with us, right, Andie?" he asked.
She beamed. "Yeah. Jack told me about it. Sounds like fun."
Joey arched her brows. "Andie, I'm surprised at you. Do you even know what a Matt Caufield party is? Bad things happen."
"Well, we'll all be there together," she replied. "I'm sure it won't be that bad. I mean, we've got each other's backs, right?"
"Exactly right, Andie." He then sneered at Joey. "Christ, Potter. Give it a rest. You're like a broken record."
Dawson shook his head, groaning in frustration. He turned to Jen. "Well, what about you? Gonna join in on a wild night of fun?"
He turned to her, grinning, and nodded. Out of the corner of his eye he swore he could see Joey scowling.
"No can do, guys," said Jen. "I've got a big date with Henry." They all raised their eyebrows at her. "And no, I don't want to talk about it."
"Well, would you look at that, Potter," he snarked as he turned towards her. "Even a freshman knows to take someone out for Valentine's Day. Too bad we can't say the same for a certain Ivy League geek who'd rather study for midterms than devote a single day to doing something special for his girl."
Joey glared from across the table, her jaw clenching. He'd struck a nerve, and inwardly gloated. Then her expression became one of haughty disapproval. "A.J. says that Valentine's Day is just a greedy corporate plot to sell greeting cards. The intellectuals among us recognize that Valentine's Day is a commercialized, frivolous, and socially inept institution that ultimately means nothing. I wouldn't expect a slacker like you to grasp that concept, Pacey."
He pulled a sarcastic face. "I wish you'd grasp the concept that jumping up my ass about some party just because your college beau decided to ignore you on Valentine's Day isn't going to stop me from going."
Her eyes grew dark at his continued jabs about A.J., and he could see the storm building inside as she glowered with disapproval. "Maybe some of us don't need debauchery to have a good time, and don't need to attend parties thrown by an immoral scumbag like Matt Caufield."
"Good for you. No one would want a buzzkill there, anyway, Potter. Especially not one currently stuck in hardcore Prude Mode."
"Bite me, Pacey."
Dawson groaned again. "Enough already! Are you two going to fight the entire time? I should just eat my lunch in the library."
"I'm done fighting, Dawson," he assured his friend. "I'm gonna let it go and just enjoy the party later. We're in for a night free from responsibility, free from all our worries and cares, and we're just going to live it up to the fullest, my friend. But some people should just relax because nothing bad is going to happen."
"Famous last words," Joey snarked.
Eighteen hours later, he was locked inside a cell at the Sheriff's Office holding facility. He lay awake, staring up at the concrete ceiling. His friends had all been bailed out by Mitch hours ago. At some point, his brother finished his shift, said goodnight, and then left as well. He'd slept off and on, but he had no idea for how long. There were no windows; it was impossible to tell what time of day or night it was.
His last conversation with Doug went around and around inside his head.
"Never lose the butterflies. You know, that's maybe what sucks most about getting older. Somewhere along the line, you just lose the butterflies. So, the question is, little brother, what are you gonna do about it?"
"In my experience, you don't come across that many people with the ability to give you butterflies. You just don't. And if you don't tell this girl how you feel, well, it'll be like spending the rest of your life in your own personal prison."
His feelings for Joey were eating him up inside. He knew his brother was right, that if he didn't get his feelings out, he'd just continue to live in agony. How much longer could he withstand it? And if he did nothing, said nothing, years from now, would he look back on this moment and hate himself? Would he regret Joey for the rest of his life?
He knew the answer.
After some time had passed, the door opened and Doug was once again walking into the cell. "Good morning, little brother."
He stood up from the bench. "Can I leave now?"
His brother pursed his lips, keeping silent, and then stepped aside as their father walked into the cell. He immediately tensed, his whole body motionless except for his breathing, which was quickly becoming panicked. The only way out of the cell was through the door behind his father. He had no way out. His fight or flight response was kicking in.
"I hope a night in a jail cell taught you a hard lesson," John Witter spoke, fixing him with a contemptuous look.
"Yes, sir." He glanced at Doug, looking for some support, but his brother was staring down at his shoes.
His father pursed his lips into a thin, angry line. "The name Witter means something around here, Pacey. I wouldn't expect someone so selfish and self-centered to realize this, but your actions affect more people than just yourself. I have been the Sheriff of this county for 21 years. How do you think your behavior reflects on me and my office? Reflects on your entire family?"
He swallowed, his stomach twisting into knots. "I made a mistake, Dad. I'm sorry."
"It better be the last one," his father replied. "Next year is an election year, and I can't have the citizens of this county saying I allow my youngest son to go around breaking the law at will and do nothing about it. If you ever do anything like this again, if you publicly shame me again, I won't just make you spend the night in a holding cell, Pacey. I'll throw the book at you and make you an example for the community. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, sir," he answered, nodding his head. "Crystal clear."
"Good. Now get out of here. You have to be at school in two hours."
As soon as he walked out of the Sheriff's Office, he went straight to the Potter's house. He needed to apologize for the way he'd been treating Joey, and Doug's advice kept running in circles inside his head. What he'd said the night before was right, and he believed both Dawson and Joey needed to hear it, but the way he'd gone about it was rude and uncalled for. When she answered the door, he was grateful she allowed him to apologize and that she seemed to forgive him. She said that the Devil could lead Dawson into hell and his moral code would still emerge unscathed. So, then why was she freaking out so much about Dawson going to that party if she knew he'd be fine?
"Maybe I think that… nobody's worrying about you right now," Joey said.
The realization sunk in that it hadn't been about Dawson at all, really. He was the one she'd truly been worried about. Because, in some way, she must really care about him.
"You gotta learn to read between the banter, Pacey."
"Right…" He should tell her.
"So, are we all finished here?"
He had to tell her. He had to just lay it out there. "It's just something I've been meaning to tell you." Maybe it might not go so badly. Maybe she might surprise him. "Look, uh… Joey…"
But he was also realizing that she freaked out about the party and was worried about him because she didn't trust him or trust his judgment—not fully, implicitly. Not like she trusted Dawson. He knew that trusting wasn't easy for Joey, not after losing her mother to cancer and then losing her father to prison, twice. Not to mention the betrayal she felt after learning what her father had done, both times. Dawson was stable, reliable, predictable, and there was security in that. It was why in some ways she still clung to Dawson, even though that relationship was no good for her. It was why she went to Dawson for driving lessons, even though he'd offered. How could a perpetual screw-up compete?
He had to think of something. Like how he could make her trust him. How to get her to see him as someone she could rely on. How to get her to see him as a man, as a good man, someone she could have faith in. How to get her to open her heart to him. How to make her care as much as he did. He knew he'd gone there to finally tell her the truth about his feelings—and he wanted so badly to tell her—but looking at her, he knew he couldn't possibly tell her how he felt unless he thought there was a chance she might feel the same. If he told her and she didn't care for him the way he needed her to, then he'd be blowing up his entire life for nothing.
She had to trust him first. "You're lingering on your clutch. Okay, I know you think you're just easing into the gear, but… it's not a good idea, you know. Maybe not today and maybe not tomorrow, but soon you're gonna do a lotta damage to your transmission. So, what I was thinking, is that if you wanted to, I could show ya."
"Now?"
He smiled. "Yeah."
Not long after, they were climbing into Bessie's truck. "Okay, Potter. Once the motor is running, press down on the clutch with your left foot. You have to press it all the way down every time you want to shift."
Joey turned the ignition. "Okay."
"Then you move into first gear. Let your foot off the clutch slow and easy while slowly pressing down on the gas."
She nodded and then the truck started moving. She glanced over at him, and he could tell she was uneasy about it. Joey let out a shaky breath. "I don't know why I'm so nervous." Then she grinned and threw him a look, rolling her eyes. "Hmm… Maybe it's because the last time I tried to shift, I did it wrong and Dawson screamed my head off."
"Well, I'm not Dawson. It's okay to make a mistake. You're learning something new." He glanced at her. "I know you're nervous, Jo, but you can't be staring down at the pedals. You gotta keep your eyes on the road, okay? Just keep slowly giving it more gas. You'll need to press the clutch down again soon, so be ready."
"But how will I know when?"
He smiled. "I'll tell you when to shift into second gear. Trust me, Joey."
She took a deep breath and nodded, continuing to move the truck forward in the driveway. After a minute, she glanced at him. "Now?"
"Not now," he said.
She gave it a little more gas. "Now?"
"Now! Shift!"
Pressing the clutch all the way down, she shifted into second gear. Joey's mouth fell open and she gave him an excited look. "Huh?! Huh?!" he said, beaming at her.
"I did it!"
"Yes, you did!" He laughed and clapped his hands together. "Congratulations, Potter. We are finally gettin' somewhere."
Joey giggled. For the next half hour, they continued to practice shifting from first to second, back to first, driving forward and in reverse. If only he could tell her that she was lingering on her emotional crutch, Dawson, and sooner or later she was going to lose herself if she couldn't shift and move beyond their childish co-dependency. Instead, he turned to her and said, "I think you're ready for third gear. You wanna drive us to school?"
Her eyes went wide. "Me? Drive to school? Like, on the road with other drivers?"
"Yeah," he laughed.
"I don't think I'm ready for that. What if I forget to press down the clutch when I shift?"
He pursed his lips. "It's best to do it now, since it's early and there won't be much traffic, not 'til we reach the high school. I'll be sitting right here next to you. And if you make a mistake and the truck stalls, it's okay. But I think you'll do fine. Trust me, Joey."
She took a deep breath, swallowed, and turned to look at him, her brows knitting. He could tell she was trying to come to a decision. "Okay, Pacey."
Not long after, Joey successfully made a left turn onto the road. She pressed down on the clutch, and then slowly shifted back up to second. "Tell me when to shift again."
He smiled, his heart swelling. "Ease up off the clutch and give it more gas." She did as he said. He watched the speedometer and when it got up to twenty miles-per-hour, he spoke again. "Okay, now! Shift!"
Pressing down on the clutch, she shifted into third gear and they took off down the road. As she drove, she would frequently glance over at him with knitted brows of worry, looking for support or approval that she was doing something correctly. He would smile and nod, and tell her she was doing great. He then watched her let go just a little. Relief and trust smoothed her features with every encouraging word he spoke to her. She was starting to trust him, and it made him feel taller, stronger. It made him feel like he could fly.