April 15. Pacey stood outside the Leery's house with Dawson, Andie, and Will as they arranged the luggage in the trunk of the SUV. Joey was standing there behind him, frowning. Things were still as painfully awkward as ever. He watched Will and Dawson maneuver everyone's luggage, needing to put a couple bags in the third-row seat to make it all fit. "Geez, Andie, why did you pack so much when it's only for the weekend?"
While she threw him a confused look, Dawson turned to him, eyes widening. "Oh, man. I didn't tell you 'cause I didn't think you were coming, but the weekend trip has turned into an week-long trip. We're not coming back until next Saturday. I'm sorry."
"Oh." He turned to glance at Joey, who wouldn't meet his gaze. "Uh, well, I'll just have to call Buzz and my boss, but I don't mind. Will?"
"I've got nothing else going on this week," his friend replied. "Whatever Pacey's doing, I'm happy to do."
Soon they were on the road, heading for a Podunk town somewhere outside Springfield. He sat behind Dawson, Andie and Will squeezing beside him. He again bemoaned her amount of luggage, leaving them little sitting room in the back. She rolled her eyes at his teasing and chose to give her full attention to Will instead. Occasionally during the drive, Joey would glance over her shoulder, their eyes would meet and hold, if only briefly, and he'd feel the tingling again, the surge of electricity race through his blood. After several hours, and a couple stops for food and gas, they arrived at Aunt Gwen's house.
He and Joey barely spoke two words to each other all evening, and then when it was time to retire for the night, everyone else took up the sleeping bags on the floor. After some feeble attempts to change the sleeping arrangements, neither Will nor Dawson being agreeable, they resigned themselves to sharing the bed, naturally bickering as they did so. There was nothing to do except roll over and try to sleep. He tried, but it was useless. The ceiling above his head mocked him as he stared up at it. He lay awake, feeling tense, angry, confused, lonely, frustrated through half the night, aware of her heat, her nearness. He listened to Joey's breathing. She wasn't asleep either. He knew her that well.
On Sunday afternoon, not long after he and Will had returned from the pool hall, Aunt Gwen found him on the couch in the living room where the small group of friends were lounging in front of the television. "So, Pacey," she said coyly. "I hear you're a pretty good cook."
"You are?" Andie and Dawson said in unison, staring at him with looks of disbelief.
"Uh…" He glanced between them and Dawson's aunt. "Who… Who told you that?"
Gwen smiled. "Joey did while we were at the grocery store. I could use some help in the kitchen. Dinner for six is no small task."
Surprised to hear Joey would mention anything about him to Dawson's aunt, he turned and caught her eye. She gave him an awkward smile and tucked her hair behind an ear. "Uh, sure. Happy to help."
He got up off the couch and followed Gwen into the kitchen. She equipped him with a knife and he got to chopping vegetables. Once in a while he'd peer into the living room, where his friends watched TV, laughing and talking amongst themselves. He noticed Joey's laugh wasn't a real one, her smiles not genuine enough to reach her eyes, and they would quickly become frowns when she thought no one was looking. His heart sunk within him. Despite being hurt by her rejection, he still wanted to be around her, but it was obvious she felt very differently about his presence.
"So, Pacey, what's your deal?" Aunt Gwen asked, pulling his attention from the living room.
"My deal?" His brows furrowed.
"Yeah. You got yourself a girlfriend back in Capeside?"
Annoyance rose up inside him at the personal question. "No, I don't. Why do you want to know?"
She shrugged. "Just curious. Gail had told me a while back that you had turned into—what did she call you—" Pausing, she thought for a moment and then laughed to herself. "Oh, yeah. She said Dawson told her you were being given Capeside's Boyfriend of the Year Award, or something like that."
He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, well… That was a long time ago."
"So, who was the lucky girl?" Gwen asked.
Damn, this woman was nosy. "She's sitting over there in your living room."
She turned to look. A confused expression came across her face. "Not… not Joey?"
"No. Andie."
Gwen breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, good." He frowned, the painting he saw of Dawson and Joey coming to mind. God forbid anyone come between her nephew and his soulmate. "So, any chance for you two to get back together?" she questioned.
He blinked at her. "No."
"So, what happened between you two? Andie seems like a nice girl, and you're not so bad. Never say never."
Anger bubbled in his gut. He barely knew this woman. Biting the inside of his cheek, he fought hard not to be rude. "I mean no offense, Gwen, but what happened between me and Andie is our business and nobody else's."
She threw her hands up in surrender. "Fair enough." Gwen paused, and then changed the subject. "So, Joey also tells me that you bought an old boat and named it True Love?"
"Uh, yeah. I did."
"She said you did an amazing job," Gwen continued. "That the boat was in shambles and now it's beautiful. She seemed really impressed. I guess I'll have to see this boat called True Love next time I visit Capeside."
He nodded and glanced into the living room, again surprised that Joey would not only be talking about him, but would be saying positive things. "Well, it's not quite finished yet. I still have a little more work to do, and then I have to find out if she's sea-worthy. I'll be entering the annual regatta, and Gail's restaurant is sponsoring me, actually."
Gwen smiled excitedly. "She didn't tell me that! I'll have to ask my sister all about it next time I talk to her. Well, Pacey, I wish you luck with the True Love."
"Thanks." He glanced at Joey again. Then he chopped the rest of the vegetables in relative peace without any more prying questions from Aunt Gwen. It wasn't long before a pot roast and mashed potatoes were in the oven. They soon gathered around the dining room table. While they passed dishes around, Gwen started to prod Andie with the same sorts of questions she was giving him in the kitchen.
"I have to say, Andie, I'm surprised you'd let Capeside's Boyfriend of the Year get away," Gwen teased, winking at Dawson, who turned toward him with an awkward half-smile and gave him an apologetic look.
Glaring at her, his jaw clenching, he set his fork down on the table and pursed his lips. Across from him, Andie frowned sadly. He stared at her until she met his gaze, and then shook his head, giving her a look of reassurance, silently telling her to pay no mind to Aunt Gwen. Her sad frown turned into a sad smile, which she quickly hid behind a mask of confidence. "I didn't let him get away," Andie replied matter-of-factly. "He's sitting right here and he's one of my good friends."
He smiled at her, and then side-eyed Gwen, who suddenly had nothing more to say on the matter.
Later that night, he stood in the bathroom brushing his teeth when Joey walked in carrying her own toothbrush and toothpaste. "Oh, sorry," she said, clearly startled, her face reddening in embarrassment. "I just wanted to brush my teeth. The door was open, and so I—"
He removed the toothbrush from his mouth and gave her a weak smile. "There's two sinks here, Potter."
Joey nodded slowly, took a deep breath, and then approached the sink. "Of course, we can share."
"We're already sharing a bed," he quipped, looking at her in the mirror.
Her eyes flew to his and she blushed before quickly busying herself with the tube of toothpaste. The tension was so thick it could've been cut with a knife. She had told him the night before that there shouldn't be any weirdness between them if what happened wasn't a big deal, and he honestly didn't want there to be weirdness either. He couldn't help how he felt about her, nor could he control how hurt and frustrated her rejection made him feel. But if anyone was making it weird, it was her. If it wasn't a big deal, why couldn't she just go back to treating him the way she did before he ever kissed her?
She heaved a sigh, complaining, "Are we going to have to share the bed all week long?"
"Maybe you're worried, that with sharing a bed, you might be driven mad with lust for me," he mocked dryly, eyeing her in the mirror to see her reaction.
Her eyes narrowed, her mouth curling into a sneer. "Hardly."
"Then there's no problem, is there?" he snapped.
She scowled and they started arguing again. He sighed, torn by his conflicting emotions. Every time his gaze met hers in the mirror, his heart turned over. And while a small part of him wanted to jump ship and get away from this thorny conversation, a much larger part wanted to stop the flow of words with his lips. But he'd learned a hard lesson in kissing Joey Potter unawares, and he had no desire to get punched again.
He walked into the guestroom hoping the second night of sleeping in the same bed wouldn't be as difficult as the night before, but when he saw her brows knit in worry, seeing how unhappy she looked, he shook his head. Then he walked back around the bed and again tried to change the sleeping arrangements. "Will, let Joey use your sleeping bag, huh?"
His friend stared. "I'm comfortable right where I am, and I'm not getting in a bed with you, Pacey."
He rolled his eyes and looked at Joey. "If Jackers had come, he would've shared the bed with me," he muttered. Her eyes sparkled and she fought back a smile. "And it wouldn't have been a problem."
"Andie, can you let Joey use your sleeping bag?" he whispered.
She stared at him, arching her brow. "You mean you want me to sleep in the bed with you?"
He pursed his lips. "It's nothing we haven't done before, Andie."
"Yeah, but…" She paused, thinking. "It would be too weird, Pacey. I know we're friends now, but… I don't think it's a good idea. I'm sorry."
"Okay. I understand. Let me use the sleeping bag and you can share the bed with Joey."
Andie glanced at Will beside her on the floor. "But I'm comfortable here. I like the sleeping bag. Why can't you and Joey just sleep in the bed? Why is this a problem?"
"Because she hates me!" he whispered dramatically. Next to him, Joey rolled her eyes, fighting another smile.
Dawson then walked into the room, saving him from having to give Andie a real answer. "Hey, man. Let Joey use your sleeping bag and me and you can share the bed."
His best friend gave him an incredulous look. "I don't think so, Pace. Guys don't share beds."
"Come on, Dawson," he pleaded. "Okay, fine. I'll take the sleeping bag and you can sleep in the bed with Joey."
"That would be too strange," Dawson said.
"What do you mean, strange? You slept in the same bed for years and it was no big deal."
Dawson glanced between him and Joey, who was chewing on her bottom lip. "Yeah, well, we were kids. That was then and this is now. Why exactly can't you two sleep together? You did last night. What's the problem?"
Before he could reply, Joey suddenly interjected, placing her hand on his arm and pulling him back. "You're right, Dawson," she voiced nervously. "Of course, there isn't a problem. Why would there be a problem? It's fine. Pacey's just being silly."
He glared at her as they started to move back towards the bed. "Oh, I'm the one being silly?"
Her expression became a scowl. "Let's just get some sleep, okay?" she murmured, throwing the covers back.
Getting into bed, he pulled the blanket over himself. Joey lay next to him, her back toward him, rigid. The tension was palpable. He'd dreamed of sharing a bed with her for so long. And under completely different circumstances. Rolling to his side, he stared at her back. He closed his eyes and focused on the sound of her breathing, the warmth of her body next to his, the sweet scent of her hair. Her breathing eventually slowed and he knew the exact moment she succumbed to sleep. He drifted off soon after.
On Friday morning, he woke to the sound of an alarm. It was coming from the small table on Joey's side of the bed. It had been placed there the night before so she wouldn't oversleep as she was supposed to go into Springfield with Dawson and Aunt Gwen. He hadn't been pleased at the thought of being woken at six a.m. just so she could spend the entire day away from him, and he'd picked a stupid argument. They'd bickered again so badly as they got into bed last night that Dawson had finally told them to shut up or leave the room.
It was now six a.m. and the alarm had indeed woken him. However, the alarm apparently hadn't woken Joey. Annoyed, he groaned and rolled over. He reached over her easily, his chest pressing against her back, his arm brushing along hers, surprised at the feel of her bare skin. She'd gone to bed wrapped up in a robe that she was now no longer wearing. His fingers moved towards the buzzing alarm and he smacked it, shutting it off. Then he pulled his arm back, again brushing the soft skin of her arm. Heaving a sigh, he rolled over and put his back to her, quickly falling asleep.
In the afternoon, after Andie had finally been convinced to go to the pool hall with him and Will to humorous results, they headed back to Gwen's house. Once again, he was roped into being her prep cook and went to work alongside her in the kitchen. While they sat around the dinner table, she was saddened by the fact they'd all be leaving tomorrow and shared more of her favorite memories of Dawson and Joey and their many trips to her house over the years, and often sprinkled in her own opinions about their relationship—perfect, magical, destined. It was all he could do to keep seated at the table when what he really wanted was to run from the room.
"Friday night," Aunt Gwen then announced in a sing-song voice. "You know what that means…!"
Dawson groaned. Joey giggled at his misery. "Karaoke!" she exclaimed.
Andie and Will cleared off the table and did the dishes. It wasn't long before Aunt Gwen's karaoke machine was pulled from a closet and set up in the living room. Unexpectedly, he found himself having fun. That is, until Gwen got Dawson and Joey to stand up and sing a duet of "Daydream Believer." Watching them together made him tense, reminded him of what he could never have, and made him feel even more alone. Even if Doug and Gretchen were right—that Joey felt something for him, too—there was no way that something stood a chance. Dawson was such a huge part of Joey's life that she'd never risk all that history for him. He was a fool for ever thinking he had a shot, even if it was only a shot in the dark. He couldn't stand it, and got up and left.
Joey soon followed him outside, and, naturally, they started arguing. The tension had reached a breaking point and he couldn't keep quiet about it any longer. She seemed just as confused as ever, which only frustrated him even more. This whole they're-definitely-friends-but-avoid-each-other-as-though-their-lives-depended-on-it arrangement sucked. It was driving him nuts. It was uncomfortable and weird, he hated every single second of it, and he told her so.
"Then why did you come here, Pacey?"
Unbelievable. "You know, for a bright girl, you can be really daft sometimes," he replied, standing up from the rocking chair. He was done skirting around it. He was just going to speak the truth. "Why do you think I came here? I came here to be with you!" Joey stared up at him, her eyes wide. "It's as simple as that. I mean, when you like somebody, proximity is a good thing, regardless of how they feel about you. Or don't, as the case may be."
He started to walk away. There, he'd laid it out. He was done acting like what had happened three weeks ago was no big deal. That it was just a meaningless impulse. It wasn't, and now she knew the truth.
"I felt it."
He stopped in his tracks and turned around. Felt…? She was gazing at him with this… look on her face. "What?"
"This morning," Joey revealed. "Your arm brushed up against me in bed, and… and I felt it."
He'd told her the truth, and now he wanted her to finally do the same. "How did it feel?"
Her eyes were shiny. She hesitated, and then… "It made me feel alive."
The butterflies erupted in his stomach. His heart started pounding beneath his ribs. Oh, God. Was this really happening? "Okay." He rubbed his hands together. There was honestly only one thing to do at this point, but he didn't want to get punched. He was going to warn her and give her a chance to stop him ahead of time. "Joey… I'm going to kiss you now."
"You can't," she protested.
He started moving towards her. "Look, Jo, you can't say something like that to me and expect me not to kiss you." He kept walking, keeping his hands up, the memory of her last freak-out fresh in his mind. "So, that's exactly what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna kiss ya in about ten seconds. And if you don't want me to kiss you…" He paused, stepping closer. "Well, if you don't want me to, I guess then you're just gonna have to stop me."
Joey took a deep breath and looked down, nervously playing with her fingers. He slowly, cautiously, closed the distance between them, counting inside his head. She then lifted her doe eyes to his face, and what he saw in their depths was all he needed. She wouldn't be hitting him this time.
"Ten."
He held her face in his hands and lowered his mouth to hers, brushing a simple, gentle kiss on her lips. She held his waist and opened to him, turning the simple kiss into something deeper. Bolts of electricity shot down his spine. It was like nothing he'd ever known, and everything he'd always wanted. His hands dropped from her face to pull her closer and then he heard the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him.
They froze. "Oh, my God," Joey whispered. His stomach tightened into knots of guilt as his mind immediately thought of the worst. He didn't want to turn around and see Andie standing there—the look on her face would kill him—and he didn't want to see Dawson either. He had the feeling it was Gwen, which wasn't good, but at least it wasn't the worst possible scenario. "Pacey," Joey whispered again. His heart sinking at the sound of panic in her voice and the fearful look in her face, he braced himself and turned around.
Aunt Gwen was staring at them, unamused, but silent. He could tell when his presence was unwanted. After making some feeble excuse about wanting to sing some more karaoke, he went back inside the house. He found Dawson and Will actually packing up the machine, and was at least thankful he wouldn't have to endure anymore karaoke while Joey was saying who knows what to Gwen outside.
He parked himself on the couch while everyone else was somewhere else. He wondered if Aunt Gwen would tell Dawson. Guilt plagued him at the thought. The panic in Joey's voice and the fear written across her face at being caught went around and around his head. Doubts welled up inside him again. Twice now, she'd let him kiss her, but he still didn't know how she truly felt about him. Clearly, whatever she felt wasn't strong enough to keep from panicking about being found out. He wasn't sure she had the guts to tell Dawson, or ever would. But tell him what exactly? That he made her feel alive? And then what? She was probably too afraid to call it anything else.
After a little while, Andie found him and tried to give him a pep talk. He was surprised to learn she liked Will, and even more surprised to learn that it didn't bother him at all. Will was a great guy. He'd be good to Andie. And even though she said they should be honest about moving on with other people and that she wanted him to be happy, something still told him she wouldn't react well to him and Joey being together. Something in her voice and the way she looked at him told him that she wouldn't be nearly as unbothered by it as he was about the idea of her and Will.
And what would he even say to Andie? That Joey let him kiss her twice, but she keeps freaking out and this thing between them is probably never gonna get off the ground because she's too afraid to let it? Whatever this thing was?
"Well, I'm gonna get ready for bed," Andie told him. "It's getting late, and we have a long drive tomorrow. Are you glad to be going home?"
"Is it that obvious?" he grinned. He couldn't wait to get the hell out of this house.
Andie smirked and stood up. "Goodnight, Pacey."
He sighed, again contemplating whether he should tell her about Joey and again deciding against it. "Goodnight, Andie."
Sometime later, he went to the guestroom to find Andie, Will, and Dawson in their usual spots on the floor, cocooned in their sleeping bags. They were asleep. The bed was still made up, and Joey was nowhere to be seen. There was no way in hell she'd want to sleep next to him now, he thought bitterly, and left the bedroom. He went outside and got a fire going in the pit out behind the house.
It wasn't long before Joey found him out there. Another frustrating conversation ensued. To his surprise, she told him she had tried to tell Dawson. She didn't get far because apparently, she had no idea what to say. Because she had no idea how she feels. He knew somewhere inside she knew exactly how she felt. She was just too afraid to admit it. He couldn't keep doing this with her. He couldn't keep kissing her while she just stands there, passively allowing it and then doing nothing about it except panic. "I can't be the one that's always initiating this," he told her. "I can't be the one who's always giving you the answers."
Her eyes became wet and she lowered her gaze, fighting back the tears.
"Look at me, Joey."
"I can't," she said, her voice thick with emotion.
"Please." She had told him she feels awful, but so did he. He knew she was scared, but so was he. He felt sick over Dawson and Andie finding out. The thought of hurting them tore him up inside. But he loved Joey. It was that simple. And if she felt the same way he did, she wouldn't be able to stand not being together. The distance between them would be tearing her up even worse than the possibility of hurting their friends.
Joey took a deep breath, and steeling herself, she looked up at him. Tears had brimmed over and fallen.
"If you felt even one shred of what I feel for you, then we wouldn't be standing here having this conversation." He couldn't keep doing this to himself. Whatever she felt for him, it obviously wasn't stronger than the fear. He started to walk away.
"Pacey," she whispered, suddenly turning and grabbing his hand, preventing him from walking away.
He stared down at their hands and then his eyes locked on hers. He couldn't seem to breathe. Breathing didn't seem to matter anyway. All that mattered were those mesmerizing brown eyes. Eyes that were saying something his heart longed to hear. She was looking at him in a way she had never looked at him before. He couldn't look away. How could he when she was holding onto his hand and looking at him like that?
Time stilled as she moved forward, his breath hitched, and suddenly her mouth was on his. She was kissing him. Joey Potter was kissing him. It was like a dream come true. A dream that he'd put out of his mind for years. A dream he'd thought would never happen. But here it was, within his grasp. He savored the feel of her lips, all soft and pliant and warm. His hands went around her, holding her against him. He could feel the heat of her body against his. Nothing could be more real than this.
He responded to her kiss; his breathing quickened as her fingers slid back through his hair to pull him closer. He swayed for a moment, drowning in her sweetness. His hands then gripped her waist, and when he heard a soft moan escape her throat as he pulled her hips against his, he thought his heart would explode. In that moment, he started to believe that Joey might actually want to be with him as much as he ached to be with her. And he knew, as he'd somehow known deep down for as long as he could remember, that there was something between them, something that could no longer be denied.
She broke the kiss, pulling away from him slightly, and looked up at him. Her eyes filled with softness. "Do you still want to know how I feel?" she said. He gazed down at her, overwhelmed by emotion, swallowing against the tightness in his throat, and nodded. Joey took his hand in hers and placed it over her heart; the quickened thump beneath his palm matched the pounding of his own. "This is how you make me feel, Pacey."
His heart swelled. Taking her hand, he pressed it flat against his chest. He could feel the warmth of her palm as his heart hammered against his ribs. "This isn't a hormonal glitch," he murmured softly. "It's not an impulse. And believe me, it's not fleeting. It never was. I've felt this way for a long time, Jo."
She let out a shuddering breath and then leaned in towards him, her arms going around his shoulders. "Pacey," she sighed into his ear. He could feel her body against his, the smooth arch of her back, the pressure of her arms around his neck, her breasts against his chest. His arms wrapped around her and he hugged her close.
In no hurry to return to the house, they then sat together by the fire. Joey reached underneath his arm, taking his hand and threading their fingers. He looked down at the smaller hand entwined with his. Raw emotion welled up inside him. Turning to gaze at her, he wanted more than anything to tell her that he loved her, tell her just how much and for just how long he had loved her. But he knew she wasn't ready to hear that. This was still too new, too complicated, and he thought better of telling her something she more than likely wouldn't say back to him. At least right now. He hoped he'd be given the chance to tell her in the near future, hoped that in time she would be able to say it back.
Her brown eyes filled with tenderness under his gaze. Joey then kissed him again, soft lips brushing his, and he opened his own to kiss her back. And just like that, the weird awkwardness and uncomfortable tension that had suffocated them for the past three weeks was gone, and everything felt natural. Everything felt right. He belonged with her and she belonged with him; he knew it to the depths of his soul. Holding his hand in both of hers, she laid her head on his shoulder. They remained by the fire until the last ember burned out.
It was after midnight when they walked back inside the house. All was dark and quiet. He changed into pajama bottoms and a tank top, and then walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth. While he squeezed his toothpaste onto the brush, Joey walked in, also clad in pajama pants and a tank top, and closed the door behind her, locking it. His heart started beating a little faster.
Wordlessly, she stepped further into the room and stood beside him in front of the other basin. She applied toothpaste to her brush and then their eyes locked in the mirror. He realized he had stopped what he was doing to watch her and returned to his task. It felt intimate and quietly domestic, like they were an old married couple, and he relished every second of it. They brushed their teeth side by side at the bathroom sink, their eyes often meeting in the mirror. The atmosphere subtly changed. The air between them became charged with a completely different kind of tension.
After they rinsed the toothpaste from their mouths, he turned to face her. Joey's eyes heated, her gaze falling to his mouth, and then she pushed him against the wall, bringing her lips to his in a kiss that started hot and then blazed higher, almost instantly. Her hands gripped his shoulders. Blood pounding in his ears, he ran his tongue against her bottom lip and her mouth opened in response. She kissed him harder, growing more daring, and her tongue brushed lightly against his. He groaned against her mouth—he couldn't help it. She tasted like mint and sugar, and something that was uniquely her, something rich and warm and intoxicating.
He moved his hands from behind her back to around her waist and pulled her flush against him. Joey moaned into his mouth and then suddenly pulled back, abruptly breaking the kiss, her eyes wide and dilated. She teetered, off-balance, and gasped for breath. "Pacey," she breathed. "You're making me crazy. This… This is crazy."
Breathing hard, he tried to ignore the heat in his groin and the muscles tightening in the pit of his stomach. Doubts started to resurface, his chest filling with worry that she might change her mind about this—about him. "But… it's a good crazy, right?" he asked tentatively.
Joey smiled and once again moved closer, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his neck. "Yes," she whispered against his skin.
He filled with relief, the knots of worry dissipating inside, and wrapped his arms around her. Holding her close, he could feel her heart pounding against his. She was tall, like him, and he could feel every bit of her against every bit of him, a perfect fit. They held onto each other for several minutes as their breathing returned to normal. He then took her by the hand and led her out of the bathroom. Their hands let go once they reached the guestroom door. They quietly stepped inside the dark room and listened to the light snores of their friends inside their sleeping bags. Guilt instantly twisted his guts at the sight of Dawson and Andie, peacefully unaware of what had just occurred in the bathroom and outside earlier.
He and Joey climbed into bed, the first night since their arrival at Aunt Gwen's that they'd done so without complaint or argument. They lay facing each other; the moon had risen high in the sky, bright and almost full, shining through the window and illuminating the room. He traced a finger along her cheek. She inched closer and their legs tangled. He could see the gleam of her eyes, the curve of her face, the shape of her lips. They gazed at one another. He smiled, happiness lighting his eyes. Her smile was giddy, radiant, and she tried to duck her head to hide it but failed. Beneath the covers, she put her hand in his, threading their fingers.
Though he needed to get some sleep, he didn't want to close his eyes, didn't want to miss a minute of this. He didn't want to wake up in the morning and find it had all been a dream that would slip through his fingers the moment he opened his eyes again. He fought it, but realized it was a losing battle. His eyelids grew heavy and drowsiness began to pull him under as he watched Joey's own eyes drift closed, a faint smile upon her lips and her hand still holding his. The words I love you rolled about silently within his thoughts as if they were the waves of the sea rocking him to sleep.