As I drift into consciousness, I quickly become aware that I am not alone. The house is quiet, so I can hear the occasional pop of the fire's embers, and I can hear someone breathing somewhere nearby. A strange, but not entirely uncomfortable feeling drifts over me, and I strongly suspect that I am being watched. I stretch, rolling a neck sore from falling asleep on the couch. The breathing catches for a moment. Slowly, still more asleep than awake, I open my eyes and am somehow not surprised to see Pacey sitting on the other side of the fire, gazing steadily at me. It is clear from his posture that he has been there for some time, and the look on his face causes warmth to spread through my body. "Pacey?" I say, although I am perfectly aware who it is. His name comes out more invitingly, more sexily, than I'd intended. Since these are not things I have ever intended to be to Pacey Witter, I am surprised that I don't mind. He had frozen when I first looked at him, and he seems to need a breath or two before he can speak. When he speaks his words are hoarse, almost whispered.
"Yeah," he says, then slowly, as though drawn to me, but trying not to startle me, he eases out of the chair and approaches the couch. He kneels down next to it, his eyes still glued to my face, and I find myself melting in a very peculiar manner. "I'm here," he whispers, and I realize that he is both answering my question and asking for my approval.
The embers of the fire barely illuminate his face as I look at him, trying to figure out what is strange and different about this. It occurs to me suddenly that all the fear, all the tension, all the irritation I normally cover myself with when I am with him are gone, somehow shut out of the warm cocoon that is my living room in the firelight. All that is left is this incredible look in his eyes, and the strange, shaky feeling in my stomach ... butterflies. Out of the corner of my eye I see his hand lift slowly, as though he is trying not to disturb the spell we are both under. His fingers brush my hair back from my face as his thumb caresses my cheek, and this time it is my breath that catches in my throat.
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I am the biggest idiot on the planet. When I sat down I had every intention of keeping my distance, of watching nobly over the delightful damsel Josephine in her well-earned slumber, and slinking back to my role as helpful and amusing sidekick before anyone noticed my lapse. I assumed that at the very least Bessie and Bodie returning would kickstart my escape, and all I would have to do was make a semi-believable excuse and flee like the coward I am. But I didn't expect just watching her breathe could be so mesmerizing... nor did I consider what I would do if the lady herself were to awake.
She stretches, and rather than seeing it as a sign of impending consciousness I am instead further captivated, unable to breathe for as second as I watch her long limbs writhe and her head roll on the pillow. My moment of indulgence brings my downfall, because in the next moment she opens her eyes, and I am utterly transfixed. Then she says my name in this tone...I don't even have words for it, because suddenly I'm so far past coherent thought that I'm actually moving towards her. I think I tried to answer her, but my throat is dry and I'm still having trouble breathing. I don't care very much, though, because now I've reached her, and she's still looking at me, and I'm still looking at her, and the only thing I can think of to say is "I'm here." As soon as I hear myself say it I wonder whether it is a reply to her, or a confirmation to myself that this is not a dream.
There is a wonderfully inviting light in her eyes, leading me to believe that she is still more asleep than awake (surely Joey Potter would never look at me like that if she was fully conscious, would she?), but this conviction does nothing to the need to touch her. My hand is drawn to her face, slowly, so as not to disturb the quiet heaviness of the atmosphere between us. My fingers brush her skin, and I hear her gasp. Suddenly the room seems warmer than it did before. She leans up on one elbow, bring herself closer to me. As she does so, my hand slides back into her hair, cupping lightly the back of her neck.
The first trickles of fear begin to creep into my heart, and I wonder what I am getting myself into here. What was meant to be quiet brood over my unrequited love has turned into a much more exciting, but also much more dangerous, game. I can only hope that Joey stops this soon, because my thoughts are starting to be muddled by her proximity. Please, Jo, stop this now.
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When did Pacey become so magnetic? How did I not notice until now? After years of seeing him as an irritation and an impediment, suddenly his features appear in a whole new light, and I find myself glancing down at his mouth, then at his hand on the arm of the couch, and back up to his eyes. I have witnessed his transformation from a joking slacker to a serious and, for the most part, responsible young man. And sure, maybe from time to time I may have had to concede that he is not entirely un-attractive. And while I may, on very rare occasions, have found myself slightly weak in the knees after a hug from him, or when I catch him looking at me, I have never allowed myself to surrender this far. It's as though I was always looking at Pacey through a smudged pane of glass, but now the window is open and it is just Pacey and I, and I can't resist the gravitational pull propelling me towards him.
I am surprised to see fear in his eyes, and for some reason the knowledge that I have enough power over Pacey Witter for him to be afraid of me gives me confidence. I run one hand up his arm to his neck, and tangle my fingers in his hair. His eyes are wide and he appears frozen as I lean toward him. Then, throwing all caution to the wind I kiss him, and I know that nothing will ever be the same again. The first, gentle brush of our lips together sends a sharp shock to my heart. I give him a second, longer kiss to see if it happens again, and my senses go wild. I know that his hands are in my hair, clutching tightly, and that my arms are resting on his shoulders. The shocks that started in my heart are now shooting through my body as we kiss again, and again, and again. God, it was never like this with Dawson, or Jack. I feel almost drunk as I push forward wanting to be closer, ever closer.
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Josephine Potter is kissing me. Josephine Lillian Potter, the most exquisite goddess I could possibly imagine, is kissing me, and it is even more spectacular than I had thought it would be. All sense of space and time vanishes as she kisses me once, twice, then yet again. Our lips meet, and part, and slide against each other. Just the tip of her tongue touches mine, and I moan slightly, trying to lift up from my slightly awkward position to pull her more securely into my arms. Fear still pounds in my veins, desperate fear of what will happen when she comes to her senses, but I refuse to give this up any sooner than I have to, so when she leans towards me I move my hands from her hair to her back, holding her tightly against me as I curl around, slowly lowering her to the floor beneath me. I am half lying on her, but from the way she's clutching me I don't think she minds.
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Dimly I am aware that I am suddenly on the floor. Pacey's arms held me so securely that I barely noticed as he lifted me off the couch, putting me into a position where he can continue to kiss me more comfortably. I wonder if I should mind being manhandled like that, but instead I find myself holding him close to me, excited by his bold move.
The sensible part of my brain, which seemed to take much longer to wake up than the rest of me, whispers that I should think it strange to be so forward with Pacey, in a first kiss, when I was hesitant and restrained with Dawson, but I push those suggestions to the back of my mind. The hand supporting him as he looms over me is next to my head, so he lets his thumb stroke my cheek. The other brushes along my side. Occasionally his fingers clench slightly, I suppose as I do something he likes.
There is something strange in the knowledge that I am interacting with Pacey, of all people, inspiring these sensations in him. On the other hand, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. Recklessly curious, I brush his bottom lip with my tongue, before biting down lightly. To my delight he actually whimpers, and whispers "God, Jo," before breaking off to kiss me ever more deeply.
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I think I have it figured out. This whole thing is a ruse by Joey to do away with me for good by causing me to spontaneously combust. I seem to have tapped into the reserves of heat I always knew were simmering beneath her angry quips. One of the things that has frustrated me as long as I can remember is the awareness of the chemistry Jo and I share, but I've always been sure the fire would always be limited to vaguely hostile banter ... and frankly, I've spent a lot of energy trying to keep it that way. If I had known it was going to be this good, though, I would have taken action long ago.
Abandoning her mouth for a moment I hear and feel her breathing speed up as I move lower and start kissing her neck. I suck lightly on it and hear her sigh my name ... by far the most wonderful sound I have ever heard. Feeling daring, I bite down lightly, and am rewarded again as she says my name more loudly. I am smiling against her skin when a new voice causes me to jerk my head up in fear.
"What the hell is going on here?" demands Bessie, standing in the doorway.