Of all the wonderful, romantic—sometimes gut-wrenching—moments between Joey and Pacey, this one always struck me as the most poignant and affecting one. Every time I see it, I am struck by the emotion that spills from the TV screen. IMHO, it is one of the most touching dramatic moments on television.

Chapter Two

You have to take the first step, Jack told me. Dawson and Pacey will never bridge that gap on their own. The first step is obvious—I need to extend a hand to the one who has felt left out of everything ever since we broke up. Walking back into the restaurant, I feel lucky because he's sitting alone. Poor Pacey. He looks so sad, so…not Pacey.

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"I've been meaning to ask you something all night, Pacey," she said. He looked up expectantly a mere swallow washed away dejection and replaced it with hope. "Would you like to dance with me?" His eyes settled on her hand wrapped gently around his. "Yes," he said as a discreet smile danced across his face.

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I take his hand in mine and can already feel the need. Mine. We're touching; I've missed him touching me. I miss… No, I can't be thinking about this. This is not about me or him, it's about the three of us. Friends. Uncertainty has clouded my face. Maybe this was a bad idea. I shouldn't…

I don't care. I turn to face him on the dance floor and the familiar heat ignites between us. I cast my eyes downward, afraid that if I even look at him right now I'll lose control and ruin everything. We begin dancing.

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"How come this feels so right?" he asked. His voice was dripping with heartrending sincerity. "I think it was those dance lessons," she said, returning his sentiment with a smile meant exclusively for him.

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My smile is the mask I wear while I struggle with my true feelings. I suppress them deep…deeper.

A modest chuckle escapes my lips as a remembrance washes over me. It's the first time we danced together—not at Penny Pretty's studio, but during 6th grade gym class when we were too young to worry about the personal space between us and Pacey merrily swept me around the practice room. He led and I followed…until Miss Sperling yelled at us for not sticking to the box. "It's a waltz and this is your box," she pointed out on the floor. "One!" Tap. "Two!" Tap. "Three!" Tap. "Four…"

He was so cute.

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He brought his hand up to her face and cradled the diamond earring dangling from her right ear. "Where did you get these?" he asked. "They're not you."

Her eyes captured his as she questioned the meaning of those words. "Why?" she asked. "Because I'm just a poor tomboy or 'cause Dawson gave them to me?" She looked down again, humbled for reasons she couldn't begin to articulate.

"Neither," he said, his voice full of tenderness and longing.

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When he caressed my ear and neck a heartbeat ago, I had to respond defensively with a retort that only highlighted my insecurity. I studied his face for answers. Once again, I hastened to remind myself that this shouldn't be about…us. My inner conflict has a life all its own.

He could be such a cretin sometimes. I don't know why he always got under my skin.

"Joey's wearing lipstick! Joey's wearing lipstick!" he chanted gleefully when he and Dawson walked into my house unannounced. Mom was outside hanging out the wash and I snuck into her bedroom, curious about all the different colors of eye shadow and lipstick she had in her drawer. I painted a face, then started loading on the jewelry. My mom had such pretty jewelry.

"Get out, get out!" I screamed at both of them. Mom came running in, convinced by my caterwauling that I'd been hurt. I was, just not in the way that she thought. My tears had made a further mess of my facial art.

Mom sat down next to me on the bed and gently wiped everything off with some tissue. Then she grabbed her favorite lipstick, Raspberry Delight, and applied it to her lips. "This is how you do it, Jo-Bear. Less is always more. You try it now," she said, handing me the tube. I looked in the mirror and tried again. "There, see? Beautiful, kissable lips!"

"Mom…" I giggled.

My last girly-girl moment before…

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His hand glided up her arm to the single piece of jewelry she had chosen to wear. "See this?" he asked, wrapping his fingers in her bracelet. "This is you. It's not showy or gaudy." She looked directly at him and felt her resolve melting away. Again she averted her eyes. "Just simple. Elegant. Beautiful." His voice broke as he took her hand lovingly in his.

"It's my mom's bracelet," she said in amazement.

"I know."

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Boys.

How did he know? It shouldn't have taken a rocket scientist, but I realize now that learning which buttons to push actually meant that, in time, Pacey Witter knew me better than anyone else. And I mean anyone else. I don't know why this always surprises me. He's not the dreamy, absent-minded one, he's not one to forget.

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"Well, because you told me. Six months ago. You were wearing that, uh, blue sweater with the snowflakes that you have. We were walking down the hallways at school, I was annoying you as per usual." She smiled in recognition. "You said, 'Look, Pacey, I just found my mother's bracelet this morning so why don't you cut me some slack?' "

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My hands have unconsciously moved down from his solid, broad shoulders to rest discreetly on his chest. It's thrilling and unnerving at the same time to feel that power again. Why am I torturing myself this way? We can't…

Why not, damnit? Why must happiness be forbidden to us like we're a pair of characters in some by-the-numbers melodrama? Two would-be lovers denied the right to feel anything other than friendship for one another. Why must it be about deprivation and not about love?

We both had such a rotten beginning to the school year, and we emerged from it all still licking wounds but bonded together, whole. Two parts of the same puzzle.

"Who knows? You and I might even become friends," he told me then. How could he know that a few words of comfort and a renewed offer of friendship while I was wallowing in self-pity, crying at the end of my dock over another boy, would lead down this path to an even greater love—him?

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"You remember that?" she laughed, touched at his rendering of even the smallest of details. He pulled her closer and whispered huskily in her ear. "I remember everything."

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I can feel myself losing the battle waging in my head and to dull the cacophony of disquiet emotion, I close my eyes and rest my head on his shoulder. The touch that once empowered me and made me feel, for the first time in my life, womanly, has weakened my determination and inspired a rather disturbing sensation of despair.

True love always seemed an unattainable ideal, the stuff of Princess Bride fairytales. Destiny only brought heartache. If Dawson and I, the couple whom everyone—friends, family—apparently thought would ride off into a mythical sunset, couldn't ascend to that romantic utopia, who could? Who else even dared to try? Who could have imagined that it would be Pacey Witter, my nemesis in the childhood tug-of-war for Dawson's attention, who opened me up to that possibility? What a cruel trick of fate that we came so close.

My body relents and I fall deeper into his embrace. I want to apologize and tell him I love him, that I need him, that I told Dawson as much that night…and it only enraged him more. That I know this is unfair…

Cue bitter rival segue.

My heart sinks as I catch a glimpse of Dawson standing across the dance floor, clearly disapproving of my hapless attempt to mend fences; he leaves in a Dawsonian huff. My feet stop following Pacey's, and I pull away to give him a look infused with sorrowful resignation…but his attention is held elsewhere. I turn around and follow his gaze to where Andie is poised in a doorway. The depth of feeling that passes between them is too much for me to bear.

That's all it takes for once-reticent tears to unleash; my feet propel me away. My head only hears my heart beating.

Why, why, why?

There is no Why, there is only Now. Standing before us had been the faces of the people we were hurting. Dawson. Andie.

There is no Tomorrow, there is only heartbreak.

And yet the agony would not be complete without the final truth made evident tonight: There is no End, there is only Love.