A bittersweet companion piece from Pacey's POV…
Chapter Three
It was supposed to be my chance to get it right, but instead I got it wrong. I got it all wrong. Why am I doing this? Wouldn't it have been kinder to let her go before Prom? Let her go back to him and get on with her life? My attempts at "finesse" have failed me, my best intentions have led us both awry, and now I have one hurt, very confused girlfriend on my hands.
I just can't…let her touch me anymore. Her desire only weakens my resolve, and I need to be strong here. She doesn't understand now, but she will in time—maybe she'll even forgive me. Starting a new life can do that for a person.
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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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She led me onto the dance floor and my heart leapt at the promise of a tomorrow. Tomorrow, things could be different; tomorrow, friendships could remain intact; tomorrow, she might even love…me.
Why did she walk across that room and ask me to dance in full view of everyone? She turned to face me and quickly cast her eyes down as if she were terrified to show me her need—but I could feel it, and when she finally looked back at me I could see it as well.
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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 only for him.
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I couldn't stop looking at her. The whole evening had been a miserable mistake up until that very minute. My presence in that banquet room had made no one happy, least of all my date. And then she smiled and took my hand, and my purpose was restored. No matter what anyone tried to say, no matter how much they protested, she and I together just felt right; we made sense. Or at least I thought we did.
Dancing, or the lack thereof, once got me in a heck of a lot of trouble; I was none too fond of it. But Joey and I dancing…for some reason, we always clicked. I always liked dancing with her, even when we were stepping on each other's toes. She took it so seriously, even in gym class, and then I would glide in there and twirl her—anything to get her off balance so that she would stumble into me; she'd get mad and I'd laugh. She'd never admit it but I think she was having fun, too.
She was a bruised warrior and I was mesmerized.
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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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She challenged me, always keeping me alert and ready with the familiar comeback—the sweetness and the sarcasm that we both reveled in.
I really had to keep myself together to touch her so intimately in front of an assembly of teens and chaperones and not go any further. To caress her cheek as I examined her earrings and not bring my hand—my face—to those anxious lips. When she dared to look at me, it took everything in me not to succumb to the need to kiss her in front of Dawson and Andie and everyone—the consequences be damned!
How could I prove my love to her? How could I prove that I was worthy?
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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, his voice breaking slightly as he wrapped his fingers in her bracelet. "This is you. It's not showy or gaudy." She looked directly at him and felt her once-purposeful resolve melting away. Again she averted her eyes. "Just simple. Elegant. Beautiful." His breath hitched as he took her hand lovingly in his.
"It's my mom's bracelet," she said in amazement.
"I know."
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She thought that I never paid attention, that I was too easily distracted to really listen. But I did—to her. There were times when I felt I knew her every heart's desire. She wasn't so hard to read; I know she thought she was, but I'd known her long enough to detect how she buried secrets behind a wall of denial.
It's what she thought about me that I couldn't quite figure out.
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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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We'd spent a day out on a biology assignment, and this time I really was paying attention to what she was saying about snails, their breeding habits and the ubiquitous food pyramid. I spent so much time trying to keep up with her, I forgot to look back—which would have been the wiser thing to do since, in my eagerness to forge ahead, I had neglected to tie up our boat.
Witter Revelation: Do not venture out into creekside backwaters in the late Fall or Winter. It's friggin' cold!
It seemed like such a short distance and that we'd be back on dry land in no time, but you try and slog through the marshes in heavy, layered clothing. Joey lost her footing at one point and actually went under. She scared me at first, and then I felt how cold she was and I felt really bad.
By the time we got home, however, she had forgiven me; she was even laughing. We spent a great evening together talking and walking around the local carnival.
I kissed her that night.
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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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Joey Potter always inspired me to do the most insane things. But the craziest of all was to love her. That first kiss was attraction. Months later, I realized that there was something more: I loved her. But I was too chicken to tell her that—I beat around the bush, I told her everything that implied love without actually saying it; I made her do the arithmetic. Her head must have been spinning with all the figures I threw at her. But still…
She sought me out. Maybe there was something to this, after all. I know what I felt. That she was the most beautiful thing in my orbit…that her skin, which was just starting to regain its golden tone after months of winter covering, was the softest, silkiest thing I'd ever felt…that the sensation of her body melded against mine was the sexiest thing I could imagine…that this "thing" between was impossible to deny, brokenhearted exes notwithstanding.
Who could have guessed that the true love I sought, the love that I thought I would never find—or ever deserve—was standing right next to me all along? Who would have thought that it could hurt so much—to acknowledge each other and still not be able to move forward? Previous commitments, prior loyalties.
I felt her warm breath against my neck and her hands lightly pressed against my chest, and I was overcome with the desire to take those gorgeous hands and run out of that room, his parents' restaurant. I wanted to find a place where we could be. Us.
Cue bitter rival segue.
My heart sank when she stopped her graceful dance and pulled back to give me a most meaningful look. Ironically, for one painful moment, my attention had been captured elsewhere. Andie was standing under one of the decorated arches, her glittery makeup now offsetting her pathos; she wasn't mad but hurt—and, as it turned out, strangely understanding.
Joey was the one mortified, her eyes brimming with tears as she looked from me back to the person standing behind me. I didn't have to turn around to know that Dawson had re-entered the scene. His dramatic departure sent Joey flying after him while I stood alone on the dance floor wondering if there would ever be a time when she would choose to stay with me.
My head said no, but my heart still held out hope. She had sought me out, I was reminded again—on more than one occasion—that had to stand for something. Didn't it? Yet I wasn't sure if my heart was strong enough to stand up to reason, and the fact was she inevitably fled.
Two weeks and several frustrating encounters later, I gave up hope when what could have been the sweetest of goodbyes turned into a pathetic whimper of one. Enough crapola. I was determined to sail away on True Love…alone. Again, to my surprise, she came after me. She hadn't given up after all. Despite her conflict and my massive insecurities, I have to give her credit for that: she never gave up on us.
Which is why watching her dance with Dawson with that huge smile on her face is so rattling tonight. She is at ease with him in a way that we haven't been together in weeks, maybe months if I'm being really honest. It makes my blood boil to have final confirmation that I was right: her happiness is fated…mine is not.
My heart pounds out its sad refrain. Why, why, why?
There is no Why, there is only Now.
There is no Tomorrow,there is only Heartache.
And yet the torture would not be complete without the final truth reconfirmed during this night's passage: There is no End, there is only Love.
I will always, always love her.
