Chapter 8
November 26, 2002
Jen sat alone in her room. The pages of the screenplay turned face down at her side as she read each one. She just couldn't bring herself to face everyone else tonight. She was sick of the situation and the only way to resolve the tension was by reading the rest of it.
Image change from flashbacks as Tasha speaks to the image of Eric and Tasha on the couch in Tasha and Derek's apartment.
Tasha: Eric, I can only imagine what you think of me now.
Eric: What I think of you?
Eric pulls back to look at Tasha's face. He places a hand under her chin to pull her eyes up and meet his stare.
Eric: Tasha, you know me well enough to realize that nothing you've told me makes me think less of you.
Tasha: Thank you.
Tasha moves away from Eric so they are no longer touching.
Eric: For what?
Tasha: Thank you for listening and not judging. Some people wouldn't be able to see beyond my past to the person I am now.
Eric: That goes both ways. I've done some really stupid things in my life. Some of them to you. And you've never held that against me.
They both laugh, breaking the tension.
Eric: Seriously though.
Eric reaches for Tasha's hand.
Eric: These experiences make you who you are. I loved you before you told me, how could I not love you after?
Tasha's eyes widen in shock. There is a moment of uncomfortable silence, then she swallows.
Tasha: You love me?
He loves me? Jen thought to herself in wonder. No, her mind continued, it's just a script. Just because Eric loves Tasha, doesn't mean that Dawson... Oh, God. Jack. Jack told me that he thought Dawson had feelings for me. What if he's...
"I've got to know."
Jen dropped the unread pages on the bed and ran down the stairs. She didn't give herself time to struggle with her own emotions. Action. Action was what she needed, not introspection. She paused at the door to Dawson's room and knocked.
"It's open," she heard him call out.
Stepping over the threshold she stopped, waiting for Dawson to acknowledge her. He lifted his head from the computer and stared at her. She remained quiet, so he cleared his throat.
"Jen," he began with hesitation. "Did you finish it?"
"No," she replied softly.
Dawson's gaze fell to the floor. His disappointment clear in his gesture.
"But I've read enough."
He just looked at her, confusion creasing his brow. He struggled, wondering if he should say something, but the silence dragged on. He stood and turned to face her where she was standing just inside his door. She stepped forward.
"Eric and Tasha," she began, stammering. "They..." Her discomfort was obvious.
Dawson stepped toward her. She couldn't make herself look at him.
"They?" He asked, encouraging her to continue.
"They're... They... Well, Eric loves Tasha?" It was both a statement and a question. She turned her gaze from the opposite wall to Dawson's eyes. Eyes that never seemed to be the same color twice. At this moment, they were almost slate gray and completely focussed on her.
"Yes," he replied earnestly, "Eric loves Tasha."
She smiled shyly, a faint blush came to her cheeks. Dawson took another step towards Jen, close enough that he could reach out and touch her, if he dared. The air left his body when he was finally able to breath again.
"How could he not?" This time it was Dawson's turn to blush. He felt the heat touch his face. His hands turn cold, their palms damp. He knew this was it, but couldn't force himself into action.
She smiled widely on a sharp intake of breath. Stepping forward she raised herself on her tip toes to kiss him softly, quickly, barely pressing her lips to his. No other part of their bodies touched, and she retreated quickly. Her confidence wavered at the sight of Dawson's pure bewilderment. She stared at him a moment before pursing her lips and swallowing the lump that was rising in her throat. She made the slightest move to step back, but was stopped by Dawson's hand on her cheek.
"Don't go," he whispered. He brought himself to her so their bodies were touching, so close that they had to turn their heads to look at each other. His fingers were cool against her heated skin. But he made no move to embrace her.
"Don't go." He kissed her forehead. So slowly he leaned back to look into her eyes again. "Don't go." He kissed the cheek that his hand wasn't caressing. Once again there was a pause. He swallowed, bring his other hand to her face. "Don't go." The words no more than a breath of air against her face.
His fingers threaded through her hair, his thumbs resting gently on her temples. It was only inches and Jen could feel every heart beat like a hammer. Finally. Finally his mouth captured hers. Pulling gently on her bottom lip. Retreating, advancing. Retreating, advancing. In a flash hesitation and caution were gone. She moved her hands up his chest over his face brushing through his hair. Her force on the back of his neck caused his kisses to bruise her lips. She didn't care. His hands moved from her face to rest on her shoulders. He squeezed them before running his hands roughly down her sides. They paused on her hips, pressing her closer to him. Her throat gave a soft whimper before she wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth, an invitation that was not rejected. His arms snaked all the way around her so his fingertips lay on the side of her body clutching madly. His mind emptied as her tongue stroked his. Jen was the only thing. Her lips and teeth and tongue. The fingers winding through his hair. Her body, warm against his. Her hips, cradling his. Her breasts, laying heavily against his chest.
Jen broke away from him and he looked at her in wonder. He followed her glance at the door, smiling when he noticed that it was wide open. He left the warmth of her body to close it. When he turned back around Jen had moved and was standing next to the bed, looking at him with uncertainty. He walked to her and took her hand and kissed her softly. They looked at each other, smiling. He noticed the flush of her face and her swollen lips. His hand released hers and moved to touch her collar bone, he could feel her heart beating in her throat. She could do nothing but smile as she took in his features. So familiar yet so different now. She took his hand and pulled him onto the bed. She kicked off her shoes and he did likewise.
She could see his apprehension so she took action. She pulled his sweater over his head before removing her own shirt. His eyes swept her body, clad in her jeans and bra. Her reached out to touch the skin she had revealed.
"You're so beautiful, Jen."
Quickly he removed his T-shirt and brought her body back into his. He was laying on his back against the pillows and she was draped over his chest. She searched out his lips, the desperation back. Running her hands over his chest feeling the planes and the muscles. Impatient with his hesitance, she removed her bra and brought his hands to her breasts. He looked at her body in awe and watched her expressions as he caressed her.
Their lovemaking was constantly changing from hot and desperate to slow and languid. He marveled at all her body had to offer and she watched him, delighting in his anticipation. He took care to discover every inch of her, grateful when she guided him and intrigued by her every sigh and gasp. When she could take no more, she raised her body over his and took him in. She sighed and leaned down to kiss him gently. He returned her kiss, forcing her mouth open. Their tongues and teeth and lips battled for control. He moved his hands from her face down her back to her hips and held her there as he rocked up into her. She immediately leaned back up in response. She moved back and forth against his pelvis as his hands slide over her flesh. She slowed her pace and brought her body back to lay against his. He touched her face and the kiss they shared was deep and long and sweet. He ran his hands down her back, making her shiver. They settled on her hips and she offered all the control to him, so happy when he took it and he moved her body in rhythm with his thrusts. She kissed his shoulder and neck her breath growing shallow.
"Almost," she whispered to him.
He battled with his own control until he felt her orgasm. The heat and vibration of her body throwing him over. She found his mouth again with her own, kissing him in lazy satisfaction.
"That was..." He began, but there were no words.
She pulled herself away from him and watched him shiver as their bodies lost contact. She settled next to him, pressing the length of his torso and holding her head up with an elbow in the mattress. Just looking at him, smiling at his expression.
"Dawson." His eyes focussed back on her. "I think that Tasha loves Eric, too."
"You think?" His grin was contagious, "maybe I should rewrite the ending."