July 16. On Monday morning, Joey was in the passenger seat of Gretchen's Land Rover as they left Capeside and drove to Boston. This was the second week in a row they'd gone apartment hunting in the city. Last week they had looked at places in some nice parts of Boston that were either on the west side of the city, closer to Bentley University where Gretchen would be going to school, or near the downtown restaurant where Pacey would be working. Everything had been well out of their price range.

It was close to noon when Gretchen pulled in front of an apartment building and parked on the street. Joey glanced down at the paper in her hand and then up at the front of the building. "Yep. This is it—370 East 8th Street."

She took a moment to glance at their surroundings, notably taking in the bar across the street with the big sign that read, "Hell's Kitchen."

"Kind of a rough neighborhood, huh?" she remarked.

"Well, we are in Southie," Gretchen stated. "And it's probably the only area in Boston that Pacey and I can actually afford."

"Right across from a bar, though?" Joey replied with knitted brows as she stepped out of the car. "Do you really wanna be accosted by drunken louts when you're just trying to get in your door after a long day of classes and work?"

Gretchen laughed. "I deal with drunken louts all the time when I bartend at Shaughnessy's. I can handle 'em."

"So, how is it to be back at your old stomping grounds?"

"Great. The regulars remember me, of course, and the tips are excellent."

They walked inside the three-story, seven-unit apartment building, then made their way up two flights of stairs, and looked for a door marked with the number six. It was easy to find, as there were only two apartments on the top floor. Gretchen knocked and moments later the door was opened by a middle-aged man with graying dark hair. He smiled as he greeted them and stepped aside to let them in. The two girls walked inside as an elderly woman came up behind him. She was petite and wore her white hair in short, tight curls.

"My name's Carmine Scarpaglia. This is the building owner, and my aunt, Lena Pagano," he introduced. Smiling, the woman nodded politely and said, "Ciao," in an accented voice

Joey fought a gasp as she took in the brick walls and exposed ductwork, original wood floors, hard surfaces and rugged textures. The apartment was larger than she'd expected. It was spacious thanks to the high ceilings, and there was ample light thanks to an array of tall windows. Three open doors off the living area revealed two bedrooms and a full bathroom. She gazed around the space, ending at a spiral iron staircase that led up to a loft bedroom area. Somehow the open layout—and the lack of opportunity to hide much of anything—felt cozy and reassuring.

"Why is this place so affordable?" Gretchen asked, suspicion in her voice.

The aunt and nephew looked at one another and conversed quietly in Italian. "It needs some work," the man finally answered.

"Well, I can see the appliances and finishings are dated, and the place could use a fresh coat of paint, possibly some renovation, am I right?"

"Yes, you are correct. Most people don't want a fixer-upper, and my aunt doesn't have the means or the time to deal with a renovation. She is willing to allow her tenants to fix the place up as they wish, so long as they don't do anything crazy. She is also quite willing to pay for appliance upgrades of your choosing, within a certain budget, of course."

Gretchen looked around the space. "We don't mind a fixer-upper. My brother is handy. Hmm. But still… even with the work involved… the rent is surprisingly low for the size of the place and the number of bedrooms. Am I missing something?"

Again, the man and woman conversed quietly in Italian. "Well, it's the neighborhood. My aunt tried raising the rent, but the kind of people who could afford rent that high didn't want to live here. We lowered the rent, but still…" Carmine shrugged. "There's a lot of crime in the area. And a couple of the other apartments in the building have been broken into over the past year. And two months back, a woman was attacked three blocks from here."

Joey didn't like the sound of that.

"Not to mention my aunt is very picky about who she rents to. I believe you said your brother is handy? Is he planning on living here with you? Because my aunt prefers to have female tenants."

"Yes," Gretchen answered. "He'll be living with me, once he gets here."

"You look awful young, if you don't mind me saying. Uh, how old is your brother?"

"He's eighteen. He'll be arriving in Boston at the end of August."

Mrs. Pagano started to shake her head and wave her hands emphatically. "No, no, no. Nessuno studente universitario maschio. Non voglio ragazzi dell'università qui con i loro alcolici e le loro puttane!" she said emphatically.

"Puttane…" Joey whispered to Gretchen.

"I think that means—"

"Yeah, I know what it means."

Carmine breathed a deep sigh. "My aunt has had trouble in the past with college students, particularly boys."

"Oh, my brother, Pacey, he's not a student. He's not going to school. He actually has a great job lined up at the Ambrosia on Park."

The man gave her a look of surprise. "Wow. Fancy place."

The woman continued to speak in Italian. "Sì, zietta. Si si lo so," he responded patiently to her, then he turned to the girls. "Look, she really does not like to rent to men, especially with the number of female tenants in the building, but is there any way your brother could come by and my aunt could meet him? She needs to get a feel for people, you understand."

"Well, he's in the Caribbean right now…" Gretchen frowned.

Mrs. Pagano shook her head. "Mi dispiace ma non posso."

Joey frowned. "It's a great place, and you guys can actually afford it," she murmured to Gretchen. Then her eyes went wide as an idea came to mind. "What if you could talk to him on the phone?" she said to Carmine and Mrs. Pagano.

She pulled the cell phone from her pocket and dialed Pacey's number while the aunt and nephew spoke together. Her boyfriend picked up on the third ring.

"Honey-baby-sweetheart," he said in greeting, and she could hear the teasing laughter in his voice.

"I'm gonna put you on speakerphone, okay?" she replied, and then did so.

He chuckled. "Um, okay. Why am I on speakerphone, Jo?"

"Well, we're in South Boston—"

"South Boston?"

"Yes—"

"Southie the only thing us schlubs can afford, Pace."

Joey nodded with a wide-eyed, polite smile at Carmine and Lena, hoping they didn't take offense to the comments about the neighborhood. "So, we're here looking at a potential apartment for you and Gretchen, and your potential landlord is here."

Pacey laughed again. "All right. So, I'm guessing the place is decent if you're even considering it?"

"Well, it's a loft apartment with three bedrooms and two bathrooms at a cheaper price than any of the one-bedrooms we looked at last week," Gretchen said. "But it's right across the street from a bar…"

"Convenient. No driving involved. I'll just walk over if I ever need to drown my sorrows at the bottom of a liquor bottle."

Mrs. Pagano shot a disapproving I-told-you-so look at Carmine.

"He's kidding," Joey hastily interjected. "He's not a big drinker," she added, before catching herself. "And, you know, he's underage, so there'll be no drinking. Ever."

"Uh, yeah. I don't really drink."

The woman lifted a skeptical eyebrow, and Joey frowned.

"And the place needs a little work, but it's nothing we can't handle," Gretchen continued.

"A three-bedroom loft at a good price? It's not cockroach-infested, is it?" Pacey asked.

"Non ho gli scarafaggi!" Mrs. Pagano exclaimed, now looking affronted.

Just then there was a knock on the open apartment door, and Joey turned to see a woman standing there, smiling. She looked to be in her mid-to-late twenties and was breathtakingly beautiful. Neat blond dreadlocks pulled back into a ponytail, golden brown eyes, and skin the color of cinnamon sugar. It was less than ten seconds before a beautiful, voluptuous dark-haired girl with olive skin and pretty hazel eyes appeared in the doorway next to her.

"Hi, I'm Toni," said the woman with the dreads. "And this is Maria. We live across the hall."

"Ciao, nonna," spoke Maria in a sing-song voice.

Lena beamed a smile. "Ciao, mio bellissimo angelo. Come stai?"

"Sto bene."

Toni looked at Gretchen and Joey. "The place obviously needs some TLC. The girls who used to live here always complained of leaky pipes. I don't think it ever got fixed before they moved out back in May. Are you thinking of renting the place? It'll be nice to have neighbors across the hall again."

"Um, yeah, me and my younger brother," Gretchen said. "And he's pretty handy, so the work wouldn't be a problem."

"Brother?" Maria said with surprise, clearly getting excited at the idea. "Wow, nonna. A man in the building? That'll be a first."

Mrs. Pagano scoffed. "Non così in fretta, signorina. Questo non è un bordello."

"Oh, come on, nonna."

Joey glanced between the two young women. "There are… really no guys who live here?"

They shook their heads. "Just women in all seven apartments," Toni replied. "Well, only six are occupied right now, of course. It'll be nice to have a man living here for a change, so long as he isn't a total creep."

"And it'll be great to have someone around who's good with his hands and knows how to work a pipe," Maria added suggestively, and her friend bit her lip to keep from grinning.

Pacey snickered, and Joey remembered he was on the line listening to everything. These stunningly beautiful women were going to live right across the hall from him…? Coming over, knocking on his door at all hours, asking him to come over and use his hands? And who knew about the other women in the building? She suddenly didn't like the idea of him living here. At all.

"So, what do you have to say for yourself, Pace?" Gretchen said. "Mrs. Pagano here needs to be convinced she should rent an apartment to you, a heterosexual American male of a certain age, especially since there apparently seems to be an abundance of young female tenants you could potentially ruin."

Carmine laughed heartily, but then cleared his throat and grew serious when he took in the expression on his aunt's face.

Pacey chuckled into the phone, and Joey turned to hold the phone out towards the older woman. "Uh, well, okay…" He cleared his throat. "Well, Mrs. Pagano, when you stop and think about this, you're going to realize that the benefits to renting to myself and my lovely sister far outweigh any possible disadvantages. So, let's just think about it for one second, shall we? The neighborhood is not that great, am I right? It's Southie, and you're right across from a bar, so… I am right, and you gotta give me that one, okay? Having a guy in the building would be like having free security for your tenants.

"Secondly, I am gainfully employed as a cook, and speaking of which, I am a fantastic cook, and I will cook you anything, anytime, anywhere. But the pièce de résistance is that I am a thoroughly monogamous, domesticated male with a girlfriend. A steady, beautiful girlfriend who I am madly in love with. Right, Jo?"

She pointed to herself. "That's me. And it's true, you know, about the cooking, although…" She glanced at the two young women from across the hall, with their sparkling eyes and giddy smiles at the mere sound of Pacey's voice, and frowned as she turned back to Mrs. Pagano. "Um, how thin are the walls here, would you say? Because to tell you the truth, we'll probably be breaking up soon, and then God knows what string of floozies he'll be bringing into this place, and he's really noisy, too."

Pacey let out a guffaw of surprised laughter.

"Especially when he's, um, you know, having—"

"Darling?" Pacey interrupted.

"Honey."

"Sweetheart?"

"Yes."

"Take me off speakerphone."

Joey chuckled awkwardly and glanced around at everyone's bemused expressions. "Uh, sure," she said with a laugh, and stepped away from them as she brought the phone up to her ear.

"What the hell are you doing, Potter? I thought we were supposed to be convincing these people to rent us the place?"

"Yeah, well…" She pouted and glanced over her shoulder at Toni and Maria. "You should see these girls, Pacey. The neighbors from across the hall? Ugh…"

"They're hot, right?"

"Yes, they're hot. And I don't like it."

"Oh, Jo," he sighed. "I miss you."

"What, you miss my neurotic fears and irrational jealousy?"

He laughed. "Yes. Yes, I do, actually."

"How do you know those two things won't end up being the death knell of our relationship, Pacey?" she quipped sarcastically.

"Joey, go back and tell them that what you said wasn't true, that you were only joking around and weren't being serious."

"Well, you are noisy…"

"Josephine."

"Fine, all right."

When Joey turned around, she saw Gretchen shaking hands with a very happy-looking Mrs. Pagano. Puzzled, she walked over to join them. "Did you work something out?"

"Yeah," Gretchen replied, looking pleased.

"What, did you promise Pacey wouldn't move in with you?"

She laughed. "No. I assured our new landlord that my brother was the best person I know, and she had nothing to worry about. I, uh, also offered to pay an extra hundred bucks a month in rent."

"Yep, that'll do it," Joey quipped.

While Gretchen sat down at a table with Carmine and Mrs. Pagano to sign papers, Joey climbed the spiral staircase to the loft. There was a loveseat and a coffee table laden with magazines in a small living area. The hall on the right led to a decent-sized bathroom with shower and clawfoot tub. To the left, she walked down the short hallway to the loft bedroom. She stepped through the open doorway. The brick walls continued up on this level, and there were two tall windows that provided the space with decent lighting. The large bedroom had a very masculine feel.

As she gazed up at the white textured ceiling, an idea came to mind, and a wide smile slowly spread across her face. She walked out of the bedroom and went back down the stairs. She waited a few minutes while Gretchen discussed some things with the landlord and was handed two sets of keys, and then accompanied her outside and back to the Land Rover.

Once she buckled her seatbelt, Joey asked, "Would you be okay with Pacey having the loft bedroom?"

"Well, I sure don't want it," Gretchen said as she put the car into gear. "You think I want to climb those spiral stairs every time I want to go to my room? Especially after a long night spent bartending, and not getting home until two o'clock in the morning? I don't think so."

"So, you're gonna start working on the apartment right away?"

Gretchen pulled the car away from the curb. "I don't know. I'll probably work on my bedroom first. Then when Pacey gets back, we'll tackle the rest of the space."

"Do you mind if I work on the loft bedroom? I'd like to surprise Pacey with a 'Welcome to Boston' gift."

His sister smiled. "I'm sure he'll love it, whatever it is. Anyway, wait until you hear the rest Carmine and Lena told me about the building. There's a rooftop patio with a garden, for starters, and the other tenants don't really take care of it. They said we could do whatever we wanted up there. I'm gonna check it out the next time I drive into the city."

Excited, Joey started making plans.

On Friday, she once again found herself hanging out at Andie and Jack's house. The McPhee home on Windsor Drive had become their default meeting place on Friday evenings this summer, and pizza from the Italian restaurant two streets over was their default meal. At times she felt guilty that Dawson was excluded from their weekly get-togethers, but when she remembered that he worked at his mother's restaurant every Friday night, she'd quickly extinguish the feeling and just enjoy being with her friends.

It was all very comfortable, and comforting in its routine, with Andie's bossy advice and anxieties about Harvard, Jen's snide jokes, and Jack's griping about his boyfriend, but with a lot less vehemence than when he first found out Tobey Barrett had decided to go to Duke instead of Brown.

"I mean, he tells me loves me, and then instead of going to school an hour away, he chooses one that requires a plane ticket for me to visit him," Jack complained for the umpteenth time. "Am I supposed to do long distance for the next four years of my life?"

And then there was Will Krudski, whose friendly smile gave him an engaging warmth, whose calm and easy-going manner was a steadying influence on both Andie and Jack, and eventually they would relax.

In the middle of it all, Joey caught herself imagining having them over to Pacey's new apartment. She could also easily imagine herself living there with him after her first year at Worthington was over and done with. Her boyfriend would serve deliciously-cooked food out on the rooftop patio while their friends sat around a table, drinking iced tea flavored with the herbs from her garden. The rooftop of the Southie apartment building had an entire raised bed that had been colonized by peppermint plants. She could put rosemary and thyme pots on the roof, and use the two other raised beds for tomatoes and other veggies. She knew Pacey would love having his own fresh produce to cook with.

"You're daydreaming again," Jen pointed out, after kicking the sole of Joey's shoe to get her attention.

"About lettuces."

"Wow. Sexy fantasy."

"And also about carrots," Joey said.

"Somebody stop her before she taunts us with vulgar images of cucumbers."

"Mmm, cucumbers. I could definitely grow some of those. Nice and big and firm. So juicy when you bite into them."

Andie shook her head. "You two are depraved."

"What?" Joey said, feigning innocence. "I'm planning my spring garden."

"Planning some kind of spring action, anyway," her friend muttered, and smirked at her.

"Woah, springs? I don't know what kind of kinky stuff you're into, Jen, but keep it out of my garden."

"As if you've never had a little fun in the sun."

Andie stood up from the couch. "That's it, you two are cut off," she declared, taking the nearly empty bowl of spiked punch to the kitchen and returning with a water pitcher.

But it was too late. Already Joey had gone from fantasizing about cherry tomato seedlings to imagining lounging on the rooftop patio of the Southie apartment, the sun beating down on her bared skin. And as if by magic, there beside her in her dreamy nudity appeared none other than her delicious boyfriend, Pacey Witter, who was without a doubt even more delicious when naked.

"As much as I'm looking forward to Boston, I'm gonna miss the beach house," she said wistfully. "We were so happy there. Gretchen has to be out by the end of the month. It's hard to believe that we'll never set foot in it again. It feels like a chapter is closing, like… we'd been living in this intimate bubble and now it's popped and real life is about to start."

"The honeymoon phase is over, Jo," Jen said to her.

"Yeah, I suppose it is."

It was after eleven o'clock when Joey made her way to the front door. Jack walked her out to the porch. "Too bad you can't come with us to the county fair tomorrow, but I'm glad you could hang out tonight," he told her.

"Me too. I think having Friday nights off is the best part of my week."

"You mean, not your nightly phone calls with Pacey?" he said, smirking.

Her eyes narrowed. "Just how much does Jen actually tell you?"

Shrugging, Jack shook his head and pursed his lips. "I don't know what you mean, Joey."

"Uh-huh. Right." Her thoughts once again turned to the Boston apartment. "So, um, how's the house painting job going?"

"Oh, good. Yeah, real good. Word of mouth spread, and we've got a lot more business this summer than last."

"That's great. I don't suppose you're free on Monday?"

He thought for a moment. "Yeah, we don't have any jobs lined up until next Thursday."

"Would you want to help me with a painting project? I'll pay you for your work."

"You got a house that needs painting?"

Joey smiled. "Well, no… not the outside of one, anyway. The project is at Pacey and Gretchen's new apartment. So, are you interested?"

Jack returned her smile. "Yeah. I'd love to help you out."

She said goodbye and left. On the drive home, she thought of Pacey, his eyes and his stares, his lips and his kisses, his hands and his voice. He was currently at sea, sailing for Key West, and she wouldn't be able to speak to him until sometime tomorrow.

Once she was back in the sanctuary of her own room, she undressed and threw herself onto her bed and glanced at the clock. The alarm would go off in less than six measly hours. She needed to fall asleep, the sooner the better. She could count sheep, or daydream about Pacey's apartment and her plans for his bedroom, or she could do something different.

Joey did have a fleeting thought, and she closed her eyes and ran her palm slowly across her breast, remembering the electric contact Pacey always made with her skin. Her nipples hardened, and she felt his tongue circling them. Her other hand traced her belly, and she remembered tracing the soft skin of his stomach, moving lower to his waistband and what waited for her beneath.

Joey reached. She circled and stroked. She tensed, and tensed, and tensed. And tensed. Remembering, reliving—the tension, the passion, such beautiful passion, and finally, yes, finally release.

Damn.

She sank into her pillow, relieved of only part of her frustration. The air always sung between them. Just looking at Pacey could turn her on beyond all reason. But he wasn't here, and she wouldn't be able to lay her eyes on him for another month. She could only deal with it by touching herself, and it wasn't nearly good enough. The distance was driving her insane. She couldn't bear the separation, but looking forward to the future would make the next few weeks pass more swiftly. And so, she did. Joey closed her eyes and drifted to sleep, dreaming of the years ahead together in Boston where hopefully nothing like this separation would ever happen again.

July 23. After a stop at Home Depot and a craft supplies store in Boston, it was mid-morning when Joey parked in front of the apartment building across the street from Hell's Kitchen. Dressed in battered denim cutoffs, Bodie's stained Capeside Community College T-shirt, and scarred, worn boots, she was ready to work. From the truck bed, she gathered her supplies: paint, stencils, brushes, sponges, painter's tape, throw cloths, and step ladder. She was lifting the step ladder when a vehicle pulled up to park on the street behind her truck. Her eyes went round as quarters when she saw Jack in the passenger seat. He clearly wasn't alone.

Although she smiled at the sight of Jen, Andie, and Will, she cursed inwardly—a very different response to someone else. Joey tried to display an outward mien of calmness, even though her insides were in tumult, and even while her inner voice berated her for her mean-spirited reaction to the unexpected appearance of her erstwhile best friend.

"Hey, Joey," Dawson said as he got out of the vehicle.

"Um, hi…"

He hesitated a moment. "You seem surprised. Jack said you hired us for a project today?"

She didn't know what exactly to say, but when she remembered that she hadn't exactly stipulated to Jack to exclude Dawson, she nodded her head. "Uh, yeah, I did."

"And we didn't want to be left out, sorry!" Andie stated as Jen handed her a can of paint primer.

Joey watched Jack and Dawson remove two step ladders from the back of the SUV while Will came towards her, taking her own step ladder from her hands, and then her friends followed her into the building. Once inside the apartment, they carried all the supplies up the spiral staircase to the loft bedroom.

Standing together in the room, Joey told them of her mural idea and then they got to work. Throw cloths were hung to protect the brick walls from any paint splatters. Once a coat of clear primer had been rolled onto the textured surface, the group of six then got to work taping the five panels of the twelve-by-twelve stencil to the ceiling. Making full use of all three ladders, adhering the stencil was a job in and of itself. The panels had to be arranged in specific order and taped securely to the rather high ceiling, and it took them about two hours to complete.

Taking a break for lunch, they went across the street to Hell's Kitchen and sat down at a table. Signs on the wall proclaimed Guinness Beer as the drink of choice in this establishment. "I'm not a particular fan of Guinness," Jack commented.

"My dad drinks it," Will said. "Nasty stuff, if you ask me."

"Anything that mixes with Jägermeister is probably suspect at best," Andie quipped dryly.

A waitress with a British accent then arrived at the table, introducing herself and handing out menus. After a few minutes, she returned and took their lunch orders.

Jen looked around at the patrons sitting down at the other tables and over at the bar. "You know, Hell's Kitchen is the name of a neighborhood on the West Side of Manhattan. For a long time, it was a bastion of poor and working-class Irish Americans. It has a history that's full of mobsters, mysterious disappearances, and gruesome murders."

"Yeah, well, so does Southie," Joey snarked.

It wasn't long before their lunch was served. While the others chatted about the upcoming Aerosmith concert that Andie and Will were going to on Saturday night, courtesy of Pacey's tickets, Joey and Dawson ate mostly in silence. She had to admit it felt awkward to be there with him, to be sitting so close at the table with someone she'd told not too long ago to stay away from her. There'd once been a time when they could talk about any and every ridiculous little thing, but now…

After swallowing a bite of her sandwich, Joey felt her cell phone vibrate in her pocket. She pulled it out and saw her boyfriend's name on the screen. "It's Pacey," she told her friends. "I'll call him back later."

"Don't worry on our account," Jen said.

"Yeah, answer it so we can all say hello," Andie said.

Joey flipped the phone open and answered. "Hi."

"There's my girl," Pacey spoke happily into the phone. "Guess where I am right now, Jo."

"Uh… Key West?"

"Well, yes, but… okay, well, guess what I'm about to do."

"You're not about to shave your head again, are you?"

Pacey laughed. "Hey, I thought you liked the buzzcut. And, uh, if memory serves me right, you really liked it…"

She blushed and lowered her gaze to the table, hiding her face from her friends. "Anyway… what is it you're doing?"

"I rented a boat and I finally convinced Mao to go sailing with me." She could hear the giddy excitement in his voice. "Of course, he's padded himself from head to toe in life preservers, but hey, he's here on the boat. I assured him that since I'd been in Key West before, I knew my way around the island. We're about to unmoor from the dock any minute."

"Just you and Mao?"

"Yep, just the two of us. We're having a Cooks' Day. It's romantic, don't you think?"

She laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Say hi, Mao," Pacey said, his voice muffled, and she guessed he'd turned his face away from the phone.

"Hi, Mao!" an unfamiliar voice shouted.

Pacey scoffed into the phone. "He's a real smartass, this guy."

"Then you're two peas in a pod."

"Anyway, what is the woman I love up to on this beautiful Monday?"

Joey shook her head with a smile, amused by his cheerful, upbeat tone. "I'm in Boston, having lunch at Hell's Kitchen with our friends."

"That bar in Southie? The one across from the new place?"

"That's the one. Apparently, the bar serves food along with booze, and judging by the number of people in here, the food can't be that bad."

"What are you doing up there?"

She hesitated. "Um… well, you know, I told our little social circle about the new apartment and they wanted to see it, so we just… drove into the city. We're having a great time." Her gaze roamed over the table's occupants. "You guys wanna say hello?" she offered, holding out the cell phone.

Andie reached over and took the phone from her. "Pacey Witter, how dare you leave Capeside without saying goodbye. … Don't 'McPhee' me, mister. … Oh, please, don't even try to butter me up. … Charter member of the Andie McPhee Fan Club, huh? How about I revoke your membership? … No, I'm not really mad. I just love to get your goat. I hope you're having fun out there. … Good. Thanks again for the concert tickets, by the way. Here, talk to Will." Then she shoved the phone at her boyfriend.

"Witter," he grinned into the phone, and after a moment, he laughed. "Don't I know it. She's nothing I can't handle. I mean, who else is gonna put up with her?" Will laughed again as Andie smacked him playfully on the arm. "Anyway, yeah, I'm good, thanks. … Yeah, Joey makes an excellent coworker. I hear you're cookin' up a storm and impressin' a bunch of Bostonian elites. … Gotta be makin' some nice bank, though. … Good for you, man. … Yeah, sounds good. Okay, I'll see ya."

Joey smiled as the phone was passed across the table to Jack. "Hey, Pacey," he said. "How are ya? … I'm good. Dad's good. Tobey's… well, you know, he's, uh, he's good. … No, Duke. … Don't get me started, man. … It's a conversation that can wait until later, believe me. … You too. All right, here's the wife."

Laughing, Jen took the phone from him. "Hi, Pace. … I'm good. I miss you. How's your summer going? … Oh, well, you know, the last guy I dated was a high school freshman and the love of my life is still gay, so that's kind of a bummer. … I'm not in a funk, Pacey. Have you forgotten already? This is my personality. … You sound almost as perky as Andie. Have you overdosed on Vitamin D, or something? … Geez, I can't take this happy-go-lucky Pacey Witter. It's like you've been replaced with a pod person." She laughed. "I'm kidding. I'm glad you're happy, Pace. I'm happy that you're happy. … I look forward to it. … Okay, here's—"

Dawson shook his head at her and then lowered his gaze to the table, fixating on his plate French fries.

"Um, here's Joey," Jen said, handing the cell phone back.

Frowning at Dawson, Joey took the phone. "Hey, it's me again."

"Jesus Christ, I'm exhausted," Pacey said, letting out a deep breath, and she laughed. "I really gotta get going, Jo. Mao is starting to have second thoughts and we haven't even pulled away from the dock. I'll call you later tonight."

"Okay, Pace. Have fun sailing. I wish I was out there with you."

"Me too. I'll get you on another sailboat one of these days, Potter. That's a promise."

Filled with the warmth of emotion, she smiled. "I love you."

"I love you more."

She ended the call and shoved the phone back in her pocket. Silence pervaded the table as they all focused their attention on their meal for some minutes. As the others started talking about college and what to expect with their prospective dorm assignments, Dawson looked up from his burger and asked, "So, how's Pacey doing?"

She stared at him. "Why didn't you just ask him yourself?"

"I seriously doubt he wants to talk to me, Joey," he said.

Dawson looked right at her, and for a split second she thought she saw genuine emotion in his eyes. There'd been emotion in his voice, too, and she thought she heard sorrow, regret. She wondered again about the Dawson Leery she thought she knew—her best friend since she was six years old, who'd loyally and dependably stuck by her through the worst times in her life—and the Dawson Leery who was sitting in front of her now—who'd been duplicitous with her, manipulating her emotions, manipulating events, to get her to do exactly what he wanted her to do.

She felt her anger ebbing as sadness slowly seeped in to take its place. "So, Dawson… how's your mom and dad doing?" she asked him, making an attempt at polite conversation.

He looked up from his seat across from her, surprised at being addressed directly. "Oh, they're… okay, I guess. They're not really happy with me at the moment."

"Why?"

Andie and Jack's laughter briefly drew their attention to that end of the table, before Dawson answered. "They're not happy that I deferred USC. They understand that Mr. Brooks was important to me, and I want to put his money to good use, make him proud, make a good movie, but they're not thrilled that I'm putting off film school to do it."

"I see."

"At least they somewhat understand the surface reason. If they ever figure out the real reason that I deferred school, I'm sure the proverbial shit will hit the fan."

"Well, I never asked you to do that, Dawson."

"I know, Joey. I'm not blaming you, okay? The whole thing is my fault, and I'm sorry." He sighed heavily. "I've been working on a script, but I honestly don't even know what the hell I'm doing anymore. Maybe I should just go to California, make my movie there. But… the creek is here. You're here. My friends are here."

She ate another French fry and then changed the subject. "So, how was the county fair?"

"Oh, um… yeah, it was fine, you know… it was the fair. Not much has changed in ten years."

"Right."

"Oh, but, um… something kind of random and weird happened," Dawson said, his eyebrows shooting up as he remembered. "You'll never guess who I saw at the fair, Joey. I mean, I was shocked. You're not gonna believe it. I saw—"

"Ms. Jacobs?" she guessed.

He stared at her in surprise. "How did you know?"

"She came into the gas station a couple weeks ago. So, you know… I knew she was… around." She rolled her eyes.

"Dawson, you actually saw Ms. Jacobs?" Jen questioned, and it was obvious this was news to her. "At the fair? But you didn't say anything."

"Yeah, I know. I just didn't know what to think at the time."

"Did she see you?" Joey asked.

He nodded. "Yes, she saw me."

"Did she say anything to you?"

Clearing his throat, he started to look a little uncomfortable at everyone staring at him. "Yes. She came over and talked to me."

Her eyes went wide. Anger started to bubble up in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't believe it. "What did she say?"

"She mostly just asked about Pacey," he answered with a shrug.

"And what did you tell her?" Joey demanded, her face hardening.

"She asked if Pacey was around, and I said no, he was working in the Bahamas. She asked if he'd be coming back home anytime soon, and I told her that no, he was moving to Boston at the end of the summer. And that's it. That was the end of the conversation."

She stared at him in shock, and in her periphery, she couldn't help but notice the silent tension that had descended over their other friends at the table. "I can't believe this, Dawson. You told her Pacey's business?"

He looked dumbfounded. "What, it's not like she's ever going to see him again, Joey. She was standing there holding hands with some guy, called him her fiancé. She asked about Pacey, and I told. The whole thing was awkward, and I was just trying to be polite. I don't think it would've been very nice not to acknowledge her."

Joey gave him a rather angry look. "That woman does not deserve politeness or niceties, Dawson! If I were in your place, I would've—"

"Well, I know Pacey would've been polite to her, and nice," Dawson challenged, arching a confident brow.

She opened her mouth for a snappy retort, but then quickly closed it. She knew he was right, but that only made her angrier. So, Joey did a slow, silent burn instead. If anyone was within their rights to be rude and harsh and spiteful to Ms. Jacobs, it was Pacey. But she also knew the likelihood of that ever happening was slim to none.

"Well, maybe Pacey is just a better person than I am," she remarked icily, and then spent the rest of lunch in cold silence.

Not wanting to spend her afternoon engaging in fraught and angry conversations with Dawson, Joey made sure to keep a healthy amount of space between them as the group returned to the apartment. Once back inside the loft bedroom, she opened the three small containers of water-based acrylic paint.

"I thought you said they were different colors," Jen said to her. "They all look white." Joey showed her the labels on the containers, and then she nodded in understanding. "Ah, okay. I get it."

Using brushes and sponges, the six friends took turns on the three ladders, and spent the next two hours applying paint to the stenciled ceiling.

July 30. The following Monday was moving day. Joey helped Pacey's sister pack up the beach house on Bridge Street. Doug and Bodie had also volunteered to help move Gretchen up to Boston, and they came over in the afternoon with a rented truck after Doug got out of work. While the last of the furniture was being loaded, along with some of Pacey's belongings that he couldn't feasibly take with him to the Caribbean, she stood in the empty living room and looked around. She was already starting to feel nostalgic for the companionable days and passionate nights she and Pacey had spent together. There were so many happy memories.

He had made the place his own, and it had truly become her home away from home. The nine months they spent here had been golden. Pacey had taught her so much… about so many different things… sex and love… good music and good food… and she had savored his cooking, reminding herself of how much she loved having a man cook for her. With him, she had eaten mussels in a delicious tangy broth, pancakes so light and fluffy they were like air, and the best clam chowder she'd ever had. And being here in the beach house—with the emotional and sexual fulfilment they shared continuously permeating the air around them—had sparked her creativity. She'd drawn and painted nearly twice as much this year as she had the year before.

Perhaps barring that last tumultuous week leading up to graduation, the time they spent together in the beach house had been nothing but pure bliss. It was hard to say goodbye to it. The honeymoon phase was over, as Jen had said to her.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Joey took one last look around and then walked out the door, quickly joining Gretchen, Doug, and Bodie beside the rented moving truck. Two hours later, they were in Boston and making their way to Southie. It was nine o'clock at night when the move was completely done, having taken a break in the middle to go get some dinner at one of Bodie's favorite places downtown. Lying on the floor in the loft bedroom, she stared up at the ceiling, pleased with the finished result.

Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out. It could only be one person.

"Hi, Pacey," she said warmly.

"Hi, baby."

"What'cha doin'?"

"Oh, I'm out on the sun deck of Tabitha's Secret, looking up at the stars."

She smiled up at the ceiling. "You don't say."

"The night sky is the one thing I'm not really gonna have in Boston, so I'm taking advantage while I can. I'm gonna miss it."

"Yeah, I know." Chewing her bottom lip, she felt her cheeks flush hot. "But maybe you won't miss it too much."

"I wish you were here, Jo. I love Key West, but I love it even more when you're with me."

"I wish I was there, too."

Pacey was quiet a moment. "You, uh, remember that night we spent out on the deck on the True Love? It was on our way home from Key West…"

Joey heard the suggestive tone in his voice, and could practically see him grinning. She blushed at the shared memory. "You mean, that night after we spent those few hours in New York City?"

"That's the one. I found a marina to dock in for the night a little further up the coast away from the city? And we were out there, underneath the stars…" He sighed into the phone. "You remember?"

"You're not the only one who remembers everything, you know," she murmured.

In less time than it took for her heart to beat, Joey's memory transported her to August of last year, that night beneath the velvet, glittering sky…

Their night spent in New York had made her emotional, and she'd found herself crying like a silly girl. She hadn't even known why she was crying, exactly. The only thing she knew was she was happy and in love and couldn't believe this was her life.

Pacey had pulled her into his lap, welcoming her weight, inviting it. Her tears fell onto his shoulder for a few minutes, and then she leaned back to look at him. He'd stared at her for a long, loaded moment, and her sensitive feelings faded, replaced by other, more restless emotions. Oh, she was definitely weak. And maybe he was too—or maybe he was so strong she had no choice but to surrender as he slid his hands up to her cheeks, and pulled her face down and kissed her. Softly at first, just a brush of lips to lips. Then again, a little less gently, a little more resolutely.

By the third kiss, she was ready to wave a white flag.

Their evening in New York had been the most romantic night of her life, and she wanted her night to end that way as well. She'd wanted this to be it, the moment she gave herself completely to Pacey, the moment she truly became his, and he became hers.

Her entire body flooded with heat. Her fingers clenched his shoulders, clung to them, and her spine seemed to melt, making her feel limp. His tongue surged against hers, slid over her teeth, traced her lips and surged again. The air around her sang with murmurs and sighs and whispered pleas—whether coming from him or her she didn't know. His hands roamed across the smooth cotton of her tank top, then under the bottom edge and up across her belly, her midriff, her breasts. Her thighs tensed, and she'd felt his arousal through his shorts.

"Pacey, let's… let's go below deck." Her voice had emerged faint and wavering.

"Let's stay out here under the stars, Jo." One of his hands cupped the underside of her breast, his fingertips moving and teasing circles against her skin. His other hand rested at her waist, holding her so she wouldn't slip off his lap. He rested his forehead against hers, his breathing ragged.

"We can't fool around like this," she'd said.

He'd closed his eyes for a long moment, then opened them and kissed the sensitive skin alongside her earlobe. "We can do anything we want," he had said.

"But this is crazy. This is totally insane. We're outdoors—"

"No one else is out here. We're all alone."

"Someone could walk by on the dock and see us."

"Who's going to walk by at two in the morning?"

Then he'd kissed the tingly spot by her ear again, and she felt that single seductive kiss throughout her entire body. "Joey." Another devastating kiss, and his thumb sketched a line toward her nipple, which was hard and burning. His light stroke was so widely arousing, she'd moaned.

"I'm just kissing you," he'd said, his low voice rubbing her nerves the way his thumb rubbed her breast.

"You're doing more than kissing me," she'd pointed out, although couldn't find it in her to ask him to stop.

Pacey grazed the hinge of her jaw, then kissed under her chin. Apparently, he wasn't going to waste anymore time justifying himself to her. He was just going to… kiss her.

Her thighs clenched again as his lips found the pulse point in her neck, as he nipped with his teeth. His other hand, the one not on her breast, skimmed up under her shirt and across her back, warm and comforting. She'd wondered if she should be touching him, too—not just hanging onto his shoulders for dear life but caressing him, tracing his smooth muscles, tasting the skin of his jaw and his brow and his naked chest. That skin would taste like her tears, she'd thought—and it would taste like Pacey.

She was right—it was crazy, totally insane, to be making out where anyone could happen upon them, but she had to have just one taste.

When her mouth touched his shoulder, Pacey had let out a muffled groan. That tight, helpless sound made her want to kiss him more, kiss every square inch of his body, including those alluring parts that were currently clothed. She then began to rock her hips over his lap, and he thrust his covered erection against her in a matching rhythm that stoked the fire between them.

There were no more words. Only touches and kisses. Gasps and moans. Strokes and shivers. The years of friction between them had turned to passion. The bickering and teasing words had become the answer to every question they'd been too afraid to ask. The friendship and understanding and love they now shared had transformed into a connection that bound them closer than she had ever been to anyone. Joey had never felt so deliciously warm as she did when she was in his arms. She had never felt so thoroughly loved, wanted, needed.

She'd buried her face in Pacey's shoulder as a consuming heat blossomed at her core and seeped with delicious abandon through every part of her. She was still riding the fiery waves of pleasure when he'd clutched at her in a tight embrace, moaning as he found his release against her.

Drawing back from him had caused a pain in her chest, so sharp she'd wondered whether she was suffering a heart attack. The fact that she was seventeen years old, in excellent health, and she could actually feel the strong, steady beat of her heart, was enough to convince her the pain lacked a physical source. It was disappointment, a nagging sense of regret, frustration, and a hefty measure of anger directed at herself.

Why couldn't she just go all the way? She wanted to. She knew this was it. She knew Pacey was the one. But she still held back.

Pacey had then opened his ocean-blue eyes, and sighed. She'd observed the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the gradual clearing of his eyes as they focused on her. Like her, he was regaining control, coming down to earth, back to reality. "I love you so much," he'd said hoarsely.

Then he had laid beside her on the floor of the cockpit, her head pillowed on his shoulder, his fingers in her hair, as they stared up at the starry sky above them…

Now lying on the floor of the loft bedroom in the Southie apartment, Joey breathed a sigh of regret. "Yes, I remember that night. We should've had sex on the boat."

Pacey started to laugh. "No regrets, Potter. I wouldn't change a thing. And my brother really was right, you know. Every time I look up at the stars, I see your face, and I remember that night."

Staring up at the bedroom ceiling, Joey smiled.