Joey put on a pair of black pants, a silver sparkly top. Heels.

"You look like the mother-in-law at a wedding. Veto." Bessie waved Joey away with an aggressive hand gesture.

"I think the fact that I'm going to this god-awful excuse for an evening's entertainment at all should give me license to wear whatever the hell I choose."

"Well, if you wear that you will only attract men who have mommy issues. Is that really what you want?"

Joey considered herself in the round mirror in the lounge. She looked fine. The outfit reminded her of something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Isn't that similar to what Gale wore to your wedding?" Bessie asked with a swallow of mirth.

Oh god, that was the similarity she'd sensed. The picture of the Leery clan on her wedding day used to hang in their hallway. She passed it every day, ten times a day.

"I'll change."

Bessie grinned, cheshire cat style, and Joey went back to her suitcase. She brought only one. The rest of her stuff was en route in a moving van, probably somewhere near Kansas right now. There wasn't a smorgasbord of options at hand.

A spaghetti strapped sundress, cream with tiny cornflowers.

Or

A black cocktail dress, slight gold shimmers running vertical.

She undressed down to her strapless bra and underwear and contorted her tall frame into the cocktail dress.

It was tighter than usual and much shorter than usual. She'd bought it for a red carpet event that Dawson had opted to attend alone.

Pumps back on, she strutted out to Bessie.

Actually strutted.

"Well, going by your walk, I think you agree that this dress is more suited to the occasion."

"Is any dress really suited for speed-dating? Moreso, is any human suited for speed dating?"

She spun and reversed into Bessie, who finished the impossibly positioned zipper for her.

Bessie poured the dregs of a bottle of Merlot to top up her glass and handed Joey one of her own.

"It is supposed to be fun, Joey. Give you a chance to meet people in town, have a drunken kiss, stumble home at 2.30am. Do things normal people do. I'm not expecting you to find a husband. I just want you to live a little!"

Joey groaned and sipped the wine. The not-so-subtle undertones of her older sister encouraging a one-night stand sung loud in her ears. Bessie thought Joey missed all that stuff. She missed the dating and the revolving doors of suitors because she was too busy being sixteen and intrinsically tied to one boy. Now, at 34, she'd spent more than half her life with him. It still didn't make her want to engage in dating.

Bessie watched her watching herself in the mirror.

Her voice softened. "Just try it. Once. If you hate it, I'll never mention it again."

Joey nodded at her reflection, swiping at a smudge of mascara under her eyes.

"And if speed dating doesn't work out. I've got a guy I want you to meet. He's going through some stuff right now, but I really think you will get along."

"Bessie!" Joey groaned. One step forward, two steps back.

"He's lovely, Joey, really."

Joey spun around and held up a hand. "No blind dates. No forced meet and greets. I will do this one thing tonight and then you will not mention it again."

"I just want you to- " she started.

Joey interrupted. "No."

Bessie drew her mouth into a line and considered her next words. "You look beautiful. Have fun."

Joey glanced at the time, reaching for her black purse on the coffee table.

"I'll see you at ten."

Bessie scoffed. "Eleven. Have a drink afterward."

"Ten-thirty." Joey bargained.

"Text me if you want me to leave the light on. You're not fifteen anymore. Your curfew is your own."

Joey rolled her eyes, grabbed her keys, and left Bessie with the assortment of rejected clothes in a pile on the floor.

The timer rang. Chris from Chattanooga moved to the next seat. Joey wasn't sad to say goodbye.

When she glanced down the row of men she'd just 'dated', Joey was suddenly thankful that it was drawing to an end.

The local community center normally hosted bingo nights for senior citizens, girl guides meetings and line dancing classes. Tonight it was bedazzled with gold lettering spelling L-O-V-E that hung limply from tape on the walls. The 'host' for this evening was Tina, a fifty-something woman in a purple dress, matching acrylic nails and mauve stilettos that sounded her arrival to supervise the dates well before she'd appeared by their side. She smiled as much as her Botox face would allow and consistently interrupted the couples to bestow hearty encouragement to all the lucky couples on their 'love journey.'

The rules were simple enough. Men lined up in chairs on one side, and an equal number of women on the other side. Each 'coupling' had five minutes to get to know each other before Tina would furiously ring a tiny gold bell and the men would rise and move one chair down. Everyone had a scorecard. You marked yes or no if you would like to match with that partner. If you both matched 'yes' at the end of the night, phone numbers would be exchanged and 'your love journey could begin.'

"Don't forget to let your partner see inside you," she sang.

"Look into each other's eyes. The eyes are the foundation for any true love connection!"

Joey breathed deep and avoided eye contact as much as possible.

Most of her dates had confessed to being regulars at such events, as if it were a point of pride. Joey smiled and nodded. She'd been doing a lot of that during the evening.

Smiling and nodding could get her through the most tedious of suitors. Even the man who explained each golf term as if he were a human thesaurus took her smiling and nodding as gentle encouragement.

At least now she knew the difference between a Birdie and a Bogie.

Tina called out, "Okay my lovelies, you are arriving at your final match. The last five minutes. Then, you can grab a glass of bubbly and see where the eve takes you!"

Joey groaned inwardly, but the sound of her relief might have escaped, just a little.

"Umm, rude much?" Her newest date appeared on the plastic chair before her with a loud scrape.

The man, Pacey, who was the exact fake fiance from the Icehouse last week bore a merciless smirk and a name tag with bold lettering reading 'PERCY :)'.

Joey's face drew into the first genuine smile of the night.

"Umm Percy? I thought it was Pacey?"

"Oh, it is," he said, dragging his eyes over her. "Joey, that dress…"

He couldn't seem to find words. Joey tucked her hair behind her ears, somewhat confronted by his appreciation.

"So?" she deflected.

"Oh, Percy is a ladies' man who didn't just endure a terrible breakup. He goes to Crossfit, eats only Paleo and is an investment analyst. On the daily commute to Boston, he listens to frat boy podcasts and mansplains political conspiracies to anyone who will listen."

She reached over, ripping the Percy name tag off his chest. The couple to their left eyed them with mild shock.

"Pacey. Be Pacey, because Percy literally sounds like every guy I've chatted with tonight." She half-covered her mouth, "and in case there was any doubt, that isn't a good thing."

"Well, I'm glad you're dwelling on my sparkling original personality and not the fact that I'm magically at the place you told me you would be last week. Honestly, I thought there would be more slapping."

"Don't count your chickens."

"I never do." He blessed her with a tilted head and a wry, wide smile. She noted he wasn't in his Hawaiian shirt tonight. Instead, he wore a fitted white henley and jeans. He had the top buttons undone and the left side flopped open, revealing a tanned chest and a sprinkling of hair.

Joey focused on his face. "I almost didn't recognize you. What with the false identity and the lack of Hawaiian shirt."

"The Hawaiian shirt is a work persona. I put on the bright colors and it makes me 'Work Pacey'. It also makes it easy for my staff to find me in crowds and any patrons looking to speak with the manager. Even if they're angry, people struggle to yell at someone with such supreme fashion sense, you know?"

She eyed him curiously. "Why are you here, Pacey?"

"Boredom."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, well, my staff encouraged me to have a night off. It's the first one in… quite some time and after I'd dabbled in Netflix, gone through old photos of my doomed relationship and ugly cried until I was fresh out of things to do. I remembered you talking about this little shindig. Bing, bang, boom, here I am."

"To what end? Why submit yourself willingly to this?"

He shrugged casually. "I told you. Boredom."

"Well, have you met any boredom busters?" Joey asked.

"You mean has Percy? No. He hasn't. He is doomed to singledom forever."

Joey sighed and chuckled. "Can't say I'm surprised."

"Hey!" Pacey feigned offense.

Looking around the room, Joey shook her head, exasperated. "This is borderline ridiculous. I don't want to be here. You don't really want to be here."

Pacey leaned towards her, resting on the edge of his chair. He was so close that his knees intersected with hers. The seam of his jeans grazed her thigh. "Then, pray tell Joey, why are we here?" His eyes held a distinct challenge.

She blinked back.

He kept his voice low. "Come on, let's be honest here. Are you actually going to exchange numbers with any of these saps? Are you going to go drink bad house whites and pretend to laugh at their shitty jokes and rebound with them ?" He glanced down the line of males beside him, then looked at her.

Joey avoided his gaze.

"Look at me, Joey. Don't you know the eyes are the foundation of any true love connection?"

Joey burst out laughing in the quiet room. Tina's head swiveled to them, the bottle of Aqua Net keeping her hair free from any semblance of natural movement.

Joey pointed a finger at Pacey. "You are a bad influence."

Pacey smirked, leaning back against his chair. "I've heard that before."

"I have no doubt."

"Does my proclivity for inciting trouble mean you're not going to match with me tonight?" He grinned.

Joey ignored his question and gestured around the room. "You've met lots of lovely women tonight. Have you found your rebound?"

Pacey chuckled. He didn't even glance at the women lined up opposite, instead holding Joey's gaze and his voice cracked, just a little. "No. No rebound material here."

Sitting back in the plastic chair, Joey crossed her arms and considered the man before her, his challenge.

"What are you proposing?" Joey asked, head tilted.

"I'm proposing we stand up right now, and leave."

"But it's almost over…." She protested half heartedly.

"So, what? You want to hang around for the time when you get to submit your grading points based on a forced five minute interaction with a stranger?"

Joey sat still, as though considering her options. She took a deep breath and stood up. Her chair scraped against the floor and all faces in the room silenced and considered her.

Pacey beamed, if not a little shocked. He stood and joined her. Holding out an arm, Joey linked hers into his.

"Only two more minutes, couples!" Tina sang out, a note of desperation in her voice. "We wait until the end to choose our matches! Love bonds take time to blossom!"

Pacey gave Joey a nod, and they walked from the room arm in arm.

They made it out of the hall and broke into a run. The adrenaline of such a shocking act pulsing through Joey's entire body. They ran past the bookstore and the local Italian restaurant and its merry guests sitting alfresco watching them with curiosity.

Joey's heels clicked on the pavement and she came to an abrupt stop, grabbing onto a one hour parking sign, breath heaving.

"I feel like we just skipped school," she sputtered, exhilarated.

"You clearly never actually skipped school." Said Pacey.

Joey nodded, "Correct."

"I gotta be honest. I was just playing chicken in there. I really didn't think you'd do that," he eyed her up and down, impressed.

"You underestimated how much I didn't want to be there."

Pacey held up his scorecard. "Okay, moment of truth, the scorecard reveal. Did anyone really pique your interest?"

Joey held her card to her chest. "I'll show you mine, if you show me yours."

Pacey held his up proudly, a tick list covering the NO column. The last one was blank, accounting for their unfinished 'date'.

Joey laughed and flipped her card to show him her own.

"You copied!" She said, displaying the abundant no column again with an empty last space.

"See, there was no point in hanging around. If we stayed, it would only waste everyone's time." He paused and then his gaze turned serious. "But you need to know that every single guy in there put you in the yes column. They would be crazy not to."

She smiled, "I'd say in response that Pacey would have got a whole lot more yeses than Percy."

Joey walked up to a trash can and threw her scorecard inside with flourish.

"What will you tell your sister?" he asked.

"I don't know. She's so desperate for me to hook up with someone I could tell her I had sex with Golf Steve behind the dumpster and she'd probably harp about it for the next week with delight."

"Gotta be honest, Joey, you could do better."

Joey laughed, then sighed, "The worst part is now I've got to go back to her place and either lie or tell her the truth. To be honest, I don't really want to do either."

"So don't go home," Pacey said casually.

Joey glanced at him, confused.

"I'm bored. You're bored. It's still early. Come back to mine for a drink if you want. I've got plenty of beer in the fridge, probably a bottle of wine or two somewhere."

"Is this all a ploy to lure me back to your place?"

Pacey held up his hands. "I mean, normally I'd offer a bar as common ground, but, well, I own the bar and it's my night off. I should probably give it a wide berth."

"You're not going to pull any moves?" She raised an eyebrow at him in the fading daylight.

He crossed his heart. "Zero moves. I don't have any left. I couldn't summon them if I wanted to."

Joey considered his offer. She really didn't want to go back to Bessie's. Every interaction she had so far with Pacey was so comfortable, but still intriguing. She wasn't ready to part ways. Not yet.

She'd already done something completely out of character tonight. What was another?

"Okay."

They walked to Pacey's house. It wasn't far. Barely fifty feet into the walk, Joey leaned against a picket fence and pulled off her pumps, hooking the spiked heel over her index finger so she could continue to walk, but in comfort.

It was a typical summers eve. A breeze began to blow in from the sea, a respite from the incessant July sun. Mosquitos buzzed between them, dodging the hands batting them away.

Approaching the house, she looked over the well-tended garden. It was double storey, on a large block, the kind that was newly whitewashed but made to look weathered. Stormy blue shutters framed each window, and an enormous oak tree stood north of the house. Behind it the last of the summer setting sun glittered, revealing itself through the leaves.

It was one of those houses. The kind of perfect original specimens that survived on the Cape beside multiple batterings from hurricanes. There were the same homes where she grew up, in Plymouth. The kind that she, even as a child, had coveted. That one day, maybe, she might live somewhere like that.

It was stunning.

The front door was painted the same blue as the shutters and Pacey slipped the key in the lock and swung it open.

"Welcome to Casa Witter. It comes heavily mortgaged and, as you will see on the grand tour, it is in need of some minor decoration."

Joey placed her pumps on the porch and poked her head into the lounge as Pacey strolled across the polished walnut floors. The room was large, with high ceilings and a fan spinning sluggishly against the remnants of the day's heat. Glaringly white walls made the space seem even bigger, but that was probably exacerbated by the lack of any furniture. At all. There was a television of monstrous proportions mounted on the wall, and before it was a single director's chair and an upturned box sporting some empty beer bottles.

Pacey grinned enthusiastically. "I'll give you three guesses who got all the furniture in the breakup?"

"Jesus, Pacey, did she leave anything behind?"

"You mean besides the house and the cat that I didn't actually want? No."

Joey walked the perimeter of the room awkwardly, glancing at the bare walls. She noticed Pacey couldn't look at them, his fists were balled up by his side.

"I was expecting a bachelor pad. I'm not sure if this is better, or worse."

"Gee, thanks."

He fussed, picking up the box of empty bottles and carried it to the kitchen. "Sorry, I wasn't anticipating guests tonight."

Joey followed him into the adjoining open-plan Hamptons style kitchen. It had a huge center island that was clean except for a few takeout containers and a stack of unopened mail.

It was gleaming. Brand new, so fresh you could still smell the paint. The glass-fronted cabinets were all white, offset by a deep emerald subway tile splashback. Countertops in thick speckled marble made it look as though it was plucked from the pages of a magazine.

"So, about a week before our breakup, I'd gutted the kitchen for a rebuild. She moved out, and I had a glaring lack of sink or counter, or anything, really. The refrigerator was in the lounge, I was doing dishes in the laundry. This all got installed last week. So far, the only thing I have cooked in it is ramen."

"Don't discount ramen. It has kept me alive these last few months." Joey waggled a finger at him.

He took a black handle and opened an empty cupboard, then another and another. "This room, like the rest of the house, is also empty."

He opened another cupboard, but this one had a small pile of snacks inside. Doritos, Reece's minis and a large bag of Skittles. He reached for the Skittles and pulled open the bag, offering her some.

Joey shook her head.

From the corner of the room, a gentle "reeooww" came. Joey spun around to find a cat perched regally atop a carpeted scratching post, staring intently at them.

"Is this the famed Cat Stevens?" She asked, approaching the beast.

"Yusef himself," Pacey replied, piling skittles into his open mouth.

While its body was a puff of white, its face was almost black, framing almond shaped blue eyes. Joey reached out a tentative hand, and the cat recoiled from her touch, regarding her with derision. He leaped gracefully from his tower and swanned into the laundry, where he circled his litter box, raised his ass in her direction, and proceeded to do his business.

"Cat!" Bellowed Pacey, only to be ignored by the feline.

"I think your cat is trying to send me a message."

"It's not my cat. But, yes, he doesn't mince words. Sometimes I wake in the night and he's sitting on the edge of the bed staring at me. The moonlight catches in his eyes and I get chills, actual chills, down my spine. Also, when I'm not home, he likes to shit in my shoes. Honestly, if I'm found murdered, tell the cops it was most likely him."

"And I thought moving in with my sister at 34 was bad."

Pacey chuckled and Cat flicked his back legs to cover his business and sauntered down the hallway and away from them.

After grabbing them some beers, Pacey slid his backside onto the marble counter.

Joey boosted herself up and joined him. The fancy copper farmhouse sink separated them. He held out the Skittles bag and Joey opened a palm to a clanging flurry of color.

"So Joey, I've crashed your date night. I've pretended to be your husband. You've watched my cat shit before your very eyes and yet, I don't even know what you do for a living."

"Currently unemployed." She swung her legs from side to side. "In LA, I was a script editor."

"Wow, that's a cool job."

"Yeah, it becomes significantly less cool when you're working for your ex-husband's production company. LA is so expensive. I couldn't afford to move out, so I moved into the spare room after we separated."

"That would make things awkward," he said, struggling through a cheekful of candy.

"You have no idea. By day we were forced to keep working together as if nothing had happened and then at night go home and live under the same roof. In the end, I just had to quit. Sleeping on my sister's couch and out of work is preferable to staying there," she said.

"I guess there aren't many script editing jobs in Capeside?"

"Nope."

Pacey raised his eyebrows. "I've got plenty of openings at the Icehouse."

Joey blatantly ignored his comment and said. "I don't know what I'm going to do. And, I don't really hate the feeling. I might find a job, I might not, I might write, I might check out some options in Boston. But I know, no matter what, I will never , ever, wait tables again."

She grinned at him and Pacey pretended to stab himself in the heart.

"Do you think you will ever get married again?" Pacey asked.

Joey shrugged, staring down into her palm and fishing the green orbs out of the pile. "We married when I was 21, that age where you feel super old, but you have no clue about life, not really. I can't envision doing it again, but maybe one day, when I'm older and wiser, and I've forgotten how terrible the divorce proceedings can be."

"21 is young," Pacey nodded.

This was the part where Joey was supposed to elaborate more on her failed relationship, she knew that. But she couldn't find the energy anymore to autopsy the whys and the whens and the hows. Even thinking about it drained her, whisking her right back to those feelings she had in LA. In Capeside, she hadn't felt them once, and she wanted to keep it that way.

Pacey seemed to sense her reluctance. "Is this what you're supposed to do after a breakup?"

"What? Sit on counters with strangers and eat skittles?"

Pacey grinned. "No. Like, what do normal people do after a breakup? How do people cope with this upheaval that makes you feel as though your insides were ripped out of your chest?"

"I don't know? I'm certainly not a master. Aren't you supposed to lose weight, get a haircut, burn your partner's clothes on the front lawn?"

"Did you do any of those things?" He asked.

Joey thought for a moment, "I got a trim at the hairdressers. I don't think that counts."

"I think I'm doing my breakup wrong. I'm working seventeen hours a day, getting drunk when I get home, sobbing in my chair in the dark and falling asleep to Kenny G."

"Got a saxophone kink?"

"No comment. I think I have lost some weight though, so there is a plus."

Joey sighed. "I'm no expert. I know it's a cliche but you really do just need to take it one day at a time. And maybe, after a few more months, they won't be the first thing you think of when you wake up in the morning."

"Here's hoping," said Pacey. They clinked beer bottles.

"Andie lives a street away from the Icehouse now, with him. I live in fear that I'm going to run into her and Leonardo, holding hands or shopping at the farmer's market together or some new couple bullshit."

He continued, "Do you know what it's like when everyone in town knows your relationship failed? I know most families here come by the Icehouse and watch me with those sympathetic eyes and say, 'you just need to get back on the horse, Pacey."

"Boy, do I love it when people equate women to equine creatures," said Joey.

"What if I don't want to do any of it yet? What if I never want to do any of it again? Maybe I'm done. I'm not sure the broken heart is worth it. I'll just work the rest of my life, have an occasional evening rendezvous with a beautiful woman, and call it a day?"

Joey dug in the Skittles bag, retrieving the last green one, popping it into her mouth. "Then that's all you need to do. You can't force relationships. You're not ready, and that's okay."

Pacey sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

Joey added, "They say that every relationship is a lesson you need to learn. Sometimes the lessons come from the relationship itself, others come from its ending."

He took a long swig of his beer. "I learned you can't really know someone. You think that just because you can tell the moment that their smile becomes a laugh, or the freckle on their index finger, or the way they scrape the cream cheese off their bagel? They are things. You can never know what's happening inside their mind.

"I convinced myself that I knew everything about Andie. I knew she loved cats. I knew she had an art class on Tuesdays. I knew she was happy with us. I knew she loved me.

"Then one day I found out just one little thing. She wasn't going to art class on a Tuesday. She wasn't even interested in art. Didn't I know that? And then when I realized that I didn't even know that, well, I didn't know anything at all."

Pacey dropped his face into his palms.

"That was me," she said reluctantly, and Pacey lifted his gaze.

"To Dawson, I was one person. Happy, calm, bright, interested. But inside, I was screaming. I knew how to be Pretend Joey, I was a pro. I just didn't know how to be the Real Joey. I'm not sure I know how to just yet."

"Is this us, coming to the conclusion that no matter what, relationships are doomed to fail because eventually, someone will change, and the other just won't?" Asked Pacey.

"I don't know if it's that. I don't really think I know much about relationships at all, to be honest," Joey bit the inside of her lip.

"Sorry. You thought you were going to speed dating. But instead you came to my house to sit in as my therapist. I'll stop."

Joey dipped her head. If she let herself consider, even for a moment, that Pacey might be someone she would have selected 'yes' for another date, each conversation they have just cements how far he is from ready for any possible dating encounter. And he reminds her that, really, she isn't either.

"I don't mind. I'm happy to listen."

Pacey's leg outstretched, bridging the gap between them and his calf met her own in a strange limbed thank you.

They finished the bag of skittles and moved onto the Doritos, sitting on the only furniture Pacey owned that could seat two people at once. Something about them being in the same situation, at the same time, just made conversation so simple. Joey teased him, and he could take it. He could level existential questions to her about his failed relationship, and she felt inherently that she could answer him honestly and actually wanted to help.

It grew dark outside without their notice. One beer turned into many beers.

Joey's phone pinged with a message from Bessie.

You must be having a great time! Do you want me to wait up? ;);)

It was almost midnight. She turned her phone around to show Pacey the message.

"I should go. I'll call an Uber," she said, jumping down from the counter. When she hit the floor, her body swayed. How many beers had she had? She couldn't drive, she'd left her car at the hall, anyway.

Pacey said, "You won't find any Ubers in Capeside. If you want a ride, you've gotta phone a friend around here. And, in normal circumstances, I would be more than happy to offer my chauffeur services, but my beer consumption would render my driving skills questionable. Sheriff Doug would lock me up and throw away the key."

Joey really didn't want Bessie to be coming by to pick her up right now.

"You could always stay here. I've got a futon in the spare room and I'm sure there is some bedding around here somewhere."

"Then Bessie would actually believe that I picked a guy up tonight!" She joked.

"Bessie?" Pacey asked, pointing the neck of his beer at her. " You're Bessie's sister?"

Joey nodded slowly. "You know Bessie?"

Pacey laughed so hard he almost fell off the counter.

"What is it?" Joey demanded.

"Bessie Potter was hell bent, only a few days ago, at setting you up… with me!"

A look of understanding crossed Joey's face. "You're the awesome guy that's been through a lot lately? "

"The one and only. And you're the recently divorced, stunning brunette that needs to be shown a good time?"

Joey shook her head. "Well, wouldn't she be pleased if she thought I stayed the night?"

"Then do it! Stay the night! Pretend we hooked up, pretend we're seeing each other for all I care!"

"A fake rebound?" Joey questioned.

"Yeah!" Pacey responded, then paused, concentrating.

Joey scratched at her arm, waiting for the strange look on his face to disappear.

"We've done it before. Why couldn't we do it again?"

"Do what again?"

"Fake it." Pacey tapped his chin. "Doug and Jack couldn't stop talking about you at brunch. They were so damn excited about "us" that I didn't have the heart to tell them it was a spur of the moment scam."

"So, what? We fake rebound with each other?"

Pacey leaped off the counter. "Yes! We tell them we hooked up. That we're in a casual relationship. This then eliminates the constant harassment about moving on because, as far as they know, we are. "

"And then what? We just end it?"

Pacey nodded. "It's only a rebound, right? A couple of weeks should do the trick. Rebounds don't last, anyway."

Joey picked at her fingernails. "What about your ex? What if she found out you'd moved on?"

"Honestly, it's not the worst thing in the world. I'd prefer her thinking I was hooking up with a smoking hot woman than knowing that I'm sitting in my deck chair, drinking and sobbing into the cat."

"Do you think they'd really buy it?"

"We already proved with Jack and Doug that we can do this. And we weren't even trying! We could just make a few casual appearances around town. The gossip mill will go into overdrive."

"It honestly sounds like the plot of a B grade rom com." Joey said, with little conviction.

"Yeah, but in those movies, they take everything too seriously. If people find out we're faking, so what? No one gets hurt. We're just trying to buy ourselves some breathing space. No one could blame us for that."

Joey pretended to mull this over. It didn't require much thought, not really.

Pacey watched her, considering, and kept talking. "Of course, the caveat to this is that you might actually have to hang out with me a little."

He seemed to hold his breath while he waited for her answer.

"If you get me out of more speed dating and bar creeps, I will spend every waking moment with you."

Pacey chuckled. "Come on Jo, Let's not kill the relationship before it even begins."

He called her Jo, so casually. Dawson had called her Joey, Bessie called her Joey. Everyone did. So it was strange the way she liked the casual shortening of her name.

Of course, she knew from the moment he mentioned it that this was a terrible idea. Fake dating was hardly a salve to cure heartbreak. It would likely keep Bessie off her back for only a minimal amount of time. But the idea of it was tempting in a way she couldn't explain. She had never done anything like it in her life, and that was the part that drew her in.

Every move she had made in her life was a tentative step. What would Dawson think? Is this something Josephine Potter would do? Is this something Dawson's Joey would do?

Absolutely not.

And that is why she knew, without a doubt, that she just had to do it.

"Well, Pace , should we make some rules regarding this arrangement?"

Pacey grinned. "Sure. Are you happy with two weeks?"

Joey nodded.

"Do you want me to call you schnookums, or shmoopy?"

"Ew." She punched him on the arm.

"I'll take that as a no." He rested his palm on the spot.

Joey said, "Let's keep this simple. We want people to think we're sleeping together, right? A casual relationship, nothing too serious. All we need to do is convey to our nearest and dearest that we are indeed moving on with our lives. That we have the capacity for human relationships beyond our ruined ones."

"So you'll stay the night?" Asked Pacey, but then backpedaled. "On the futon, of course."

"Sure. When I do the walk of shame home tomorrow, Bessie will flip."

"I know what sisters are like. They need details. Can you at least tell her it was the best sex of your life?"

Joey laughed. "Considering my ex, it's not a particularly difficult feat."

Pacey led her up the stairs to the spare room, which was right beside the master. He found sheets and they made the bed together in silence.

"Want some more comfortable clothes?" he asked, motioning to her glittering dress.

"Please!"

He disappeared for a few minutes and Joey perched at the edge of the futon and sent Bessie a text.

Don't wait up. :P I'll be back tomorrow morning.

It only took seconds for a reply to come back.

OMG, Joey! Be safe. Enjoy!

Pacey strolled in with a Bruins t-shirt and a pair of shorts that would certainly be sizes too large.

"Sorry, it's slim pickings for female friendly clothes. I figured you wouldn't want to sleep in a Hawaiian shirt," he said.

Joey took the offered pile. "You figured correctly."

He leaned against the door frame, as if using it for strength, and explained that there was a spare toothbrush and towel out in the bathroom for her. Shoes long gone, his socked feet crossed at the ankle. They had little hot dogs on them.

Joey felt wired, as though her blood was fizzing just looking at his socks. She didn't let her eyes shift further up, past his well-fitted jeans. She faked a yawn, suddenly needing space between them.

He got the hint. "I'll see you in the morning. We can finalize the plan then. Yell out if you need anything," said Pacey. "Oh, and keep your door closed, otherwise Cat Stevens will come by at 5am and meow Fancy Feast breath in your face and knead you like sourdough with razor-sharp claws."

"Goodnight," she said, and he closed the door behind him.

The dress had been rubbing for hours. Fabric like that wasn't made for sitting all night. Reaching for the zipper, she realized it was futile. She simply couldn't contort into any semblance of a shape that could reach it.

She bit her lip, opened the bedroom door and knocked on Pacey's.

He took a moment before opening the door, shirtless. Joey froze.

"You okay?" He asked when she didn't speak.

"Oh, I'm trapped in my dress. Don't suppose you could help a girl with a zipper?"

Pacey stuttered, "Yeah, sure, of course," and despite the words of surety, his voice was anything but.

Joey spun around, demonstrating the awkward positioning.

Pacey drew closer behind her, so close she could smell the final warm dustings of day-old cologne. He took the zipper and slowly edged it down until it came to rest at the base of Joey's spine. The two back pieces, with nothing to hold together, spilled open and she scrambled to cover up.

Joey thought she heard a sharp intake of breath from behind, but it could have been her own.

"Thanks!" she said, unable to turn back to face him and scurried back to the guest room.

Pacey said nothing.

Door firmly closed, she inched the dress down her body and discarded it on the floor, pulling on his Bruins shirt. It had that butter-like feel of clothes well loved over years. Putting it to her nose, it smelled like fabric softener. She was a little disappointed.

After brushing her teeth and washing her face, she strolled back down the empty hall, past his closed door, and to her room.

Climbing into bed, snuggled deep in the sheets, she held her breath. A few gentle thuds sounded through the wall, the strain of mattress springs.

She let her mind run over their agreement.

A fake rebound.

It was genius. It was ridiculous.

The idea of faking it with Pacey seemed simultaneously the easiest thing, and the hardest thing to do.

Squinting her eyes closed, she tried to force sleep. It was fruitless.