THE KIDS ARE ALRIGHT…OR NOT

(DJ with a Pacey twist)

I.

October 2

Dear Journal,

I can't tell you how happy I was that he showed up at Hell's Kitchen. We hadn't talked all summer, and that was okay, but now I was back at Worthington and I was dying to see him, talk to him, hear his voice.

Jen thinks it's "cute", this little thing we have going, but honestly I don't know what this "thing" is. Are we friends, more than friends? Are we headed toward another amazing encounter or are we always going to be simply Dawson & Joey, the poster couple for lifelong friendship and—horrors!—abstinence?

We talked and laughed, and I think it was the most comfortable I have been with him in years. No dark clouds hanging over us, no awkward sexual tension. Just Dawson & Joey catching up on each other's lives, sharing secrets and insights about ourselves and our motley circle of friends. He's changed. He seems very settled in his new life—I think he's actually enjoying himself in Tinseltown! Like I always knew he would.

And then that song came on. That Sofie Hawkins song from our past that encouraged me to confess one of my pathetic teen-with-a-crush moments. He was perfectly charming about it and asked me to dance. I couldn't say no. I mean, we're just Dawson & Joey, right? No need to run away from that. But neither of us could stop smiling. We smiled and danced and smiled and hugged and smiled…all the while checking each other out and reveling in the sweetness of the moment.

He walked me back to the dorm and I have to admit that I didn't want the night to end. I invited him to stay. Audrey was with Pacey (we'll discuss that one later) so I knew her bed was free and she wouldn't mind. And I was being selfish, I wanted some more alone time.

Ha! When I got through brushing my teeth and readying myself for bed, I exited the bathroom only to find Dawson fast asleep on Audrey's bed. Oh, well. We could talk in the morning. But then, miraculously, he woke up and asked me what time it was. It wasn't quite midnight. "Damn!" he said, grabbing his backpack. He walked over and did something really screwy, he changed the time on my wall clock—like I need this when I'm always late for class anyway. Then he sat down on my bed and pulled a present out of his backpack. He remembered my birthday.

It was heavy on the schmaltz factor, but something about that Hollywood snow globe touched me. Like he was sharing his dream with me. I couldn't resist giving him a big hug. Hugs are always nice. But he didn't seem to want this one to end. He kept holding me, moving his hands across my back like he was conjuring something up.

Okay, I was turned on. But I wasn't quite sure how to handle it. I mean, this is Dawson. We've been on-again, off-again, on-again and off…until both of us have been worn out by the process. We've always worked together much better as friends—or at least I thought we did—and whenever those hormones kicked in, we just ended up making a big bloody mess of it. Yet the attraction is undeniable; I think it will always be there.

So I was just sitting there as he held me, thinking how much we've both grown up in the past couple of years. Maybe we were actually mature enough to move on to the next step. I pulled back and looked into his eyes…goosebumps. Okay, this was it, this was the defining moment. It was time to see if together, as a couple, we could make sense of each other's lives…or not. I decided to go for it.

We kissed. Tentatively at first, and increasingly more passionate as my hands began to explore his body and his lips asked for more. When our tongues mingled, I was overwhelmed with the sensation of wanting him, more than I can ever remember wanting him. All of those marathon makeout sessions back when we were 15? They couldn't possibly prepare me for his surprising ability as a lover—although I didn't expect him to ask my permission!

"Is this okay?" he said as he began taking off my top. "Come here," I replied, and then I whipped off his T-shirt as well. He laid down next to me on that small twin bed and began sensually kneading my left breast with his hand while his mouth enveloped my right breast, tickling me with his teeth and tongue, pinching and massaging with his hand. Oh, to have a man's hands on me again! I missed the touch. I couldn't help it. I went for his pants, unbuckling his belt as he looked again to make sure this was all right. Hey, it was my idea!

But he moved away from my touch, tracing his lips down my now very sensitive and heaving stomach to my belly button. He always got a kick out of the fact that I had an "outie". Gross. But what he was doing with his tongue felt fantastic. And if he wasn't going to let me take off his jeans at least I was going to take off my pajama bottoms. Again, he stopped me. "Let me do that," he said. Then I started to get shy as he slowly pulled my PJ's down, sliding his hands along my outer thighs, kissing the inside of my knees.

Were we supposed to be doing this? I didn't care anymore. He got up and finished taking off his jeans and shorts as I got under the covers. When he turned around, I got a good look at that bald-headed bishop I had only "known" with layers of clothing in between us. His penis was erect and almost glistening. (Is that possible? Maybe it was a trick of light.) I had to laugh, I'm sorry. Years of imagining how well endowed he was and there it was in front of me in all of its male glory! He was almost exactly as I imagined.

"What are you chuckling about?" he asked. "Nothing," I said as I opened up the covers to invite him in. "It's a girl thing." And there that "thing" was right between us. I started to move over so he could lie beside me, but he had other ideas and immediately inserted himself between my legs, getting directly on top. He placed both of his hands on my face and looked at me like he was peering into my soul, then slipped inside me with such ease that I almost came right then.

But I didn't. We made love for what seemed hours as he slowly moved inside me, very steady and deliberate with his actions as if he wanted this moment to last forever. There was nothing cheap or sleazy about this encounter, just the gentleness of a lover who probably had been going over this very event in his head for years. That doesn't sound very spontaneous, does it? It didn't feel that way. It felt good. This boy of my adolescent fantasies had staying power. Personally, I couldn't have imagined anything better.

What surprised me is what happened next. I can't believe I'm writing this down. We were both hot and sweaty. I examined the moisture on his brow, the look in his eyes, the tautness of his face as he began to push deeper and faster and I knew we were on the brink of something. I went to kiss him full on the mouth, but he put his fingers on my lips as if to quiet me, then slipped them inside my mouth and I obliged him by rolling my tongue around them. Just as quickly, he removed them from my mouth and found a very happy clit, circling my "nub of pleasure", as Audrey calls it, teasing me, driving me wild.

"I love you, Joey," he said as he nailed me again, both inside and outside, moving more furiously now. "God, Jo..." "Dawson," I finally blurted out as I neared my own orgasm. "Jo!" he exclaimed as he came with a tremulous force and I felt his warmth spilling inside me. Without thinking, he moved his fingers away. I was so close…so close.

Still, we fell asleep and I was content. Next time, I thought. Oh, and Happy Birthday!