The walk from Joey's house to my temporary residence in Doug's bachelor pad passes in a blur. I know that I have some serious thinking to do, not only about what I'm going to say to her, but also about what I'm going to do about Dawson, and Andie, and all the other hazards that stand between me and Joey, but my train of thought seems to be stuck in a permanent loop replaying the night's events. I've only just left, and already the whole thing has a hazy, dreamlike quality about it. Is it possible I imagined it all? How is it, then, that I can still taste her, still smell her? No, it must have happened.

I stumble a bit coming into the apartment. My hands are still shaking, and I drop the keys, knocking against a bookcase as I bend to pick them up. I swear under my breath, cursing my clumsiness. She's reduced me to a bumbling idiot. I really wish I could resent her for that, but at the moment all I can feel when I think of her is a sharp longing that takes my breath away. Man. Andie had me pretty stirred up, but I don't think I've actually been this pathetic about a girl before. I walk over to the couch and collapse onto it, dropping my head to my hands. I take a few deep breaths, trying to force myself to calm down. Ok. Not working.

"I thought you were staying at the B&B again tonight," says my brother's voice. I jerk upright. How had I not noticed he was in the kitchen? I must be even more distracted than I'd thought. Scrambling for an excuse, I find my mind blank.

"Uh, no," I say, in lieu of anything more articulate. "I thought it best to not be there right now." Oh. I didn't mean to tell him that. Oops. Maybe he didn't catch it. I glance at his face. No, he's staring at me with an annoyingly determined and inquisitive look on his face. He's decided to have the story out of me.

"Did the weekend not go well?" he asks. After years with the Witter family code, I can easily translate this into "How did you screw up this time?" As always, the anger which always simmers in a dark place I choose not to visit too often bubbles up at new signs of disparagement.

"Why is it so hard for you to believe that I could do something right?" I exclaim, jumping up to yell at him. "Is it that impossible to think that I maybe pulled it off for once? That I actually managed to help someone? I am so sick of being the loser, the idiot, the spaz who can't take care of himself, let alone anyone else. I'm tired of..." I trail off at the bafflement on my brother's face. He clearly has no idea what I'm on about.

"Actually," he says mildly, "I was basing my assumption that something had gone wrong on the fact that you're pale as a ghost, your hands are shaking, and you appeared to be trying not to hyperventilate. But if it'll make you feel better, by all means keep ranting at me." Well, that sure took the wind out of my sails. I think back to how shaken and startled I'd been when he entered the room. Yeah, if I'd seen me I'd have realized something was wrong, too.

"Oh," I mutter sheepishly, collapsing back to the couch. "Sorry. It's been a weird evening."

"Do you want to talk about it?" asks my brother. I look up in surprise. "What, I can't be prepared to offer some fraternal advice? Look, Pacey, I know we don't always get along, but if you're this upset I'd like to help." I'm not sure what to say to this offer. On the one hand, Deputy Doug is hardly the ideal person to have a heart to heart with. On the other hand, this isn't exactly something I can take to Dawson. He'll hear the words "Joey" and "kiss" in the same sentence and probably try again to break my nose before I can say anything else. For someone who's supposed to be my best friend, he's awfully quick to turn on me. I debate stewing in silence, but when left to themselves my thoughts are rolling around in my head, far more prone to produce flashbacks of sensation than useful plans of action. I glance over at Dougie, who looks as bland as ever, but sincerely concerned. Well, here goes.

"So there's this girl," I start. A lame opening, I know, but just at the moment I don't care.

"Joey," says Doug, shockingly.

"Why the hell would you say Joey?" I demand. "How do you know it's not Jen? Or Andie? Or someone new?"

Dougie looks at me condescendingly. "Look, little brother, just because your friends are locked in the status quo and all see the world through Dawson-coloured glasses doesn't mean you're not blindingly obvious to the casual observer. Everything about you in the last few weeks has screamed 'unrequited love,' and if you add that together with all the time you're spending with Joey helping her get the B & B ready, not to mention the fact that you're increasingly awkward around Dawson...well, doesn't take a genius."

I stare at Dougie. I had no idea anyone had caught on. Well, except for Lindley, but she had a few more clues put in front of her. Hm, maybe I should have taken this up with her, instead. Still, Doug seems to have a fair idea what's going on, and I'm curious to hear what he has to say about the situation.

"Ok, so I'm in love with Joey," I say. I pause. I've never actually said it all the way through like that before, not out loud. I'm in love with Joey. Why, in my head, does that have such a ring of finality to it? I shiver at the feeling of doomed permanency that settles on me, the sense that this will ever after be an immovable aspect of my identity. My name is Pacey Witter. I was born in Capeside. I love Joey Potter. Doug breaks into my troubled reverie with a voice of irritating practicality.

"Well, that's been the case for awhile now. Why the sudden despair? Did you kiss her?" I shift uncomfortably.

"Not exactly," I mutter. Now Doug looks surprised. Well, it's a relief that he's not entirely psychic. "She kissed me," I explain. That makes it sound like she might be actually interested in me, which I'm still not entirely certain is the case, so I hasten to add "but it's my fault. Somehow."

"So she kissed you, but it's your fault. Only you're not sure how." Doug is looking at me like I'm a moron. This does not phase me, as he's been giving me that look for most of my life thus far. "Did you force her to kiss you somehow? Or did she think she was kissing someone else?"

"No!" I exclaim indignantly. "I'd never force her to do anything...and, well, she did kind of say my name when...well...I'm pretty sure at least that she knew it was me. But it was dark, and there was firelight, and she'd been asleep so she was all warm and sleepy and confused, and I guess I was just there. And next thing I know we're lying on the rug, we've lost all track of time, and Bessie's walking in on us." Ok, now he looks confused. Good, that makes two of us.

"Ok...well, does she know you love her?"

"She does now. I told her. And then she kissed me again!" This is the part that really baffles me. I honestly thought that telling her that would make her run for the hills, and she did look seriously spooked by my confession. Except that when I tried to make a quiet exit she stopped me. What was that? It didn't taste like an "I love you" kiss.

"So she loves you back?"

"No," I say immediately. I'm almost certain of this. "If Joey Potter loved me, I'm pretty sure the world would have to start spinning the other direction, and the stars would change their courses, and the creek would start running uphill." I pause, not sure how to say this in a way that doesn't sound disrespectful to Joey. "I think...I think that Joey's confused by the physical chemistry between us. I have more experience, so I can deal with that aspect of this. Also, it's not just physical for me, and that makes it different. But Jo...the only two guys she's dated are Dawson, who as much as he likes to think otherwise is pretty firmly in the PG-13 realm, and Jack, who's gay. She knows there's something here, but she doesn't know what it is, and doesn't know what to do with it. So when I caught her with her guard down she just went with it."

I've been looking at the carpet all through my little monologue, talking more to myself than to my brother. Having to talk about what happened allows me to put some of my thoughts in order, to organize them into conclusions I don't necessarily like, but can deal with. I glance at Doug, and am startled to see that he's looking at me with both respect and affection. I think that confuses me as much as anything else that's happened tonight. He claps a hand on my shoulder.

"I think that's a very mature thing to say, Pacey," he says, approvingly. "I think you're being too hard on yourself, though. Don't be so quick to assume you're out of the running. Joey may not really understand what's happening between the two of you, but she's not a girl to kiss a boy just because she happens to be attracted to him. Talk to her, give her a chance to decide for herself."

"Yeah," I say, still surprised that he's being so supportive. The situation is the same as it was when I left Joey's house, but I feel calmer, more hopeful than I had when I walked through the door. I briefly contemplate bringing up the Dawson issue, but the weekend is catching up to me and I'm too tired to go there tonight. Also, I'm reluctant to disturb the peaceful hopefulness Doug helped me find. I'll have lots of chances to worry about Dawson. "Thanks, Doug," I say, looking him straight in the eyes and hoping he knows how much I mean it.

"That's what older brothers are for," he says, smiling. "But don't think this means you're off the hook for skimping on your chores this weekend!" I grin. This side of Dougie I can deal with.

"I'd have thought you'd be grateful to be left alone with the Diva collection undisturbed by my uncouth presence," I say.

"Goodnight, Pacey," says Doug, trying to sound annoyed rather than amused, as usual.

"'Night Deputy Doug," I say. I lie back, this time purposefully invoking thoughts of Joey's touch, hoping the memories will follow me to my dreams.