March 12. His life had been so full of distractions lately—the ruined mural, the fight with Matt Caufield, Principal Green's ordeal, his job at the video store, the True Love, and Joey—that he had been severely neglecting his homework. Late on Sunday afternoon, knowing he couldn't put them off any longer, he called Joey on the phone and asked if they could work together on their assignments that were due the following week. She agreed, but only if he would come to her since she couldn't leave Alexander.
He watched Joey across the table from him. She skimmed over lines in her math textbook and entered numbers into her calculator. She then picked up her pen and began writing on her assignment sheet. He reread the word problem on his own sheet, the same one he'd been staring at for the last several minutes. He may as well have been trying to read Greek. "I'm never going to get this," he said, sighing as he dropped his forehead down on his textbook. "It's useless. I'm a lost cause."
"It's not that bad," Joey reassured. "Look, you can get this done. You only have one more question and then you'll be finished."
"Can't you do it for me?" He pouted.
She gave him a disapproving look. "No. If I do your work, then how will you learn it?"
"What's the point in learning trigonometry? We're never going to use it." He shook his head. "Who even came up with this stuff? It's so boring. I'm young and virile, and I should be out there having fun instead of doing this stupid assignment."
She rolled her eyes. "Quit whining and finish, Pacey."
"Potter, if I had a dime…" he joked, smirking suggestively at her. Joey stared at him for a moment, and when she realized his meaning, she blushed furiously and lowered her gaze to her textbook. He laughed and returned to his assignment sheet. It then dawned on him that he needed to use the Pythagorean theorem to solve the final problem, and a few minutes later he was finished. "God, finally," he said, slamming his textbook shut. "You wanna look it over?"
Joey reached for his homework. "Nice job," she said, and handed it back to him. Then she opened their new English workbook and flipped to the back. "Have you noticed what our final assignment is for the poetry unit?"
"No. It's bad enough we're doing poetry again this year. I'm not about to skip ahead so I can see in advance all the horror that's in store."
"You might want to prepare yourself for this, Pacey."
He frowned. "We don't have to write another original poem, do we? I think I still have trauma from Peterson's class."
Her eyes went wide and she nodded in agreement. "No, you don't have to write. You have to recite, and in front of the whole class."
"Ah, come on," he complained. "I might have words with Mr. Broderick."
"Well, you are his shining star of the school play," she said, grinning at him. Then she held up the workbook and read from it. "'For this unit's final assignment, students will recite a poem of their choosing to the class. The poem does not have to be memorized, but students need to show evidence of multiple rehearsals and familiarity with the poem. The recitation will be graded based on the following…'"
Joey cleared her throat dramatically and looked up at him, smirking, before continuing to read. "'Physical Presence, Voice and Articulation, Dramatic Appropriateness, Level of Difficulty, Understanding and Personal Application.'"
His brows furrowed. "Personal application?"
"When you're done reciting, you need to be able to explain to the class how you personally relate to the poem you chose," she answered. Then she continued. "'The final assignment will be worth 50% of the unit's final grade.'"
He groaned and buried his face in his arms on the table. She tutted. "It won't be that bad, Pacey. You were great on stage in Barefoot in the Park. This will be so much easier."
Before he could reply, the telephone rang and Bessie, who'd recently returned from her date night with Bodie, entered the kitchen to answer it. "Potter Bed & Breakfast." She paused. "Yeah, she's right here." Bessie turned towards the table. "Joey, A.J. is on the phone."
His head snapped up and he looked at her. Their eyes held for a moment. His heart sank within him. She swallowed, and then got up from the table, heading over to the phone and taking it from her sister. "Hi, A.J." … "Now isn't really a good time. I'm helping a friend with homework." … "Pacey." She turned to look at him. "A.J. says hello."
He blinked, and tried not to scowl.
"Pacey says hi," she said into the phone, throwing him a pointed look, before putting her back to him. "Can I call you in an hour or so?" … "Oh. Well, that's okay. If you're not back when I call later, then I'll just talk to you tomorrow?" … "Okay. Sounds good." … "Bye." She hung up the phone and returned to the table.
"You know, Jo, I can take off if you want to talk to him," he said, even though the last thing he wanted to do was leave.
She smiled and shook her head. "That's all right. This is more important."
He returned her smile, and could feel a warmth rising within him. "Well, we're almost done. Just history left."
After he opened his U.S. history textbook to Chapter 23: An Era of Social Change, half an hour later he had finished his writing assignment. "Well, I should get going," he said as he started putting textbooks inside his backpack. "Thanks for helping me, Joey. I'll be back in the morning and you can drive us to school."
"You're leaving already?"
He arched his brow at her, recognizing the disappointment in her voice. "Did you want me to stay?"
"I just…" Her face reddened and she seemed tongue-tied, pulling some hair behind her ear. "I… thought you'd hang out for a while, I guess. I figured we could watch Simpsons and The X-Files."
"Yeah, I can hang out," he said, smiling. That hopeful feeling again rose in his chest.
He was soon sitting on the couch, watching Joey carry two cans of soda into the living room. She dropped down close beside him. Their thighs touched and he felt her heat, sending a melting sensation through him, but then she abruptly moved over, putting space between them. She gave him an awkward smile and the air around them filled with tension. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and she licked her lips nervously before turning from him and picking up the TV remote from the table. He then opened his can of Coca-Cola, his mouth parched, his heart racing, and leaned back against the couch, trying in vain to concentrate on the television.
March 17. When school let out, Joey rode with him back to Doug's apartment. His brother greeted them when they walked inside and then retreated to his bedroom to change out of his uniform. Soon they were all in the living room in front of the TV. "So, what are you two doing this evening?" Doug asked.
"We're hitting up all the local pubs and we're going to drink ourselves into oblivion in honor of St. Patrick's Day," Joey quipped.
He nodded solemnly. "It's the Irish way."
She chuckled. "Well, I'm not Irish. But call me when Oktoberfest rolls around."
"But the Witter's are," he grinned. "Right, Dougie?"
His brother rolled his eyes. "So, what you're saying is that I'm stuck with the two of you for the evening?"
"Nah, we're going to the movies," he answered. "I borrowed Mom's wagon. The Rialto is doing their suspense double feature: a new release followed by a classic. They're showing Psycho this time. It doesn't start until seven, though. We're hanging out here until then."
"That's fine," his brother replied. "Just so you know, you can't bring over any of your friends next Sunday, and while we're at it, you should probably find someplace to be as well."
His brows furrowed. "Why?"
Doug leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs. "I'm having some friends over for fondue and to watch the Academy Awards. You'll have to find somewhere else to hang. Adults only."
"You're having a fondue Oscars party?" He blinked. "I'm trying my best to keep the gay jokes at a minimum, Dougie, but you're making it real difficult. I mean, they practically write themselves."
His brother sneered.
"Ooh, I'm gonna watch, too," Joey said excitedly. "I love the red carpet with the actresses in their fancy dresses and expensive jewelry."
Doug nodded, smiling. "It's almost as important as the award show itself."
He bit his tongue.
Her expression then became wistful. "Sometimes I like to imagine that could be me someday. Not that I ever want to be an actress—because I don't—but to be someone glamorous and rich, someone who goes to important events like award shows and fancy dinners and galas."
"You think award shows are important?" he said dryly.
"Well, they're more important than whatever is happening in Capeside on any given day," she snarked. "And I think they're a far better way to spend one's time than cleaning bathrooms and making beds."
He frowned. "Are you unhappy with the B&B?"
Joey shrugged. "Well, no… But that's Bessie and Bodie's life, not mine. I'm getting out of this town. And who knows? Maybe you'll see me on a red carpet one day. Stranger things have happened."
He sometimes thought she suffered from the same kind of self-deception as Dawson—the rejection of reality. "Life isn't a fairy tale, Potter. Why don't you try wanting something that's real? And if you're not going to be an actress, why would you even be on a red carpet for one of those things, anyway?" He arched his brow at her, giving her a challenging look.
"I could produce some huge Hollywood blockbuster or write a critically-acclaimed screenplay," she mused. He thought it sounded a lot more like Dawson's dreams than anything she truly wanted for herself. She gazed at him, eyes sparkling and lips curving into a smirk. "Or maybe I'll just get married to Keanu Reeves and then he'll thank me in his speech in front of millions of people watching all over the world."
"I don't know what's more unlikely: you walking a red carpet or Keanu Reeves winning an Oscar."
She scowled. Doug laughed.
Later, they arrived at the Rialto to find a busy Friday night crowd. Once they got their tickets for the double feature and their snacks from the concession stand, they found some seats inside. The theater was packed. By the end of the previews, Joey had finished her popcorn, setting the bag down on the floor. She glanced down at her hands and sighed. He saw she was about to wipe them on her jeans and quickly pulled some napkins out of his pocket, handing them over.
"Thanks," she whispered.
Final Destination began, and at each fright scene they both jumped in their seats. Then Joey started hiding her face behind her hands whenever the music reached a tense crescendo. Occasionally, she let out a yelp or a shriek. He chuckled every time. Towards the end of the film, the suspense ratcheted and suddenly she was sitting closer and clutching his arm. Butterflies danced in his stomach. Following a quick intermission and bathroom break, they returned to their seats to watch Psycho. When the private investigator got stabbed on the stairs, some in the audience gasped. Joey grabbed his hand and hung on until "The End" appeared on the screen, but he'd barely registered the climax to the movie. He was more absorbed in the feel of her hand in his, the proximity of her sitting so close beside him.
They stopped on the edge of town at Bobby Byrne's and sat in the car to eat burgers and fries and talk about the movies they'd seen. "I probably won't sleep tonight," Joey snarked. "And I'm never closing my shower curtain again."
"I'd like to see that," he blurted as he popped a French fry in his mouth. Realizing what he'd said, his eyes quickly shot to hers. She looked startled and stared at him, lips parting, seemingly speechless. He could feel his face getting hot. "Wait… That wasn't what I… I mean… Well, I don't know what I mean. That came out wrong." His face got redder and then she smiled, relaxing her posture and taking another bite of her burger.
He wanted to change the subject. "So, you ready for your road test tomorrow?"
She finished chewing before she spoke. "As ready as I'll ever be. You're still going to take me out to practice for a while before, right?"
"Of course," he smiled.
The next day, he picked her up an hour before the test and went through their standard routine of practicing different maneuvers in the Witter wagon before arriving at the RMV. Once they arrived, the examiner came out to greet Joey and take her on the driving test. The examiner, one Mrs. O'Brien, was known among Capeside teenagers as a real battleax. He knew Joey had been hoping for Mr. Campbell. She swallowed nervously, gazing at him, her brows knitting with worry.
"You'll do great, Jo. I know you will."
"Easy for you to say," she muttered.
He smiled patiently. "If you believe in yourself just one-tenth of how much I believe in you, you'll ace it."
Steeling herself, she sighed. "Okay. I can do this. I'll just pretend you're sitting in the front seat next to me instead of her." She eyed Mrs. O'Brien as the woman approached the passenger side door.
Then he watched Joey climb into the driver's seat of the wagon. It wasn't long before she drove out of the parking lot. He then waited 15 minutes for her to return. Just as he was looking out the window of the RMV he saw her arriving. She parked the car along the curb, smiling, and he knew she'd passed. His heart leapt. He quickly walked back outside to greet her.
"I passed!" She said happily. "I passed my test. I'm a licensed driver!"
He beamed. She threw her arms around him. "Thank you, Pacey," she murmured, her mouth close to his ear. "I never could've done it without you."
Closing his eyes, he sighed and hugged her, but then quickly stepped back from her embrace. He rubbed her arm good-naturedly, feeling somewhat awkward. "Yeah, you could've."
Joey gave him a half smile and shrugged. "Eventually, sure, but you're the reason I was able to do it now, Pacey. Without you, I'd still be afraid and putting it off because I didn't want to face my fear. And because of you, I have my license now and not a year from now."
He smiled at her, his heart swelling with pride and joy.
On Monday morning, he stood by his locker with Dawson and Jen, chatting about their weekend while waiting for the Homeroom bell to ring. He turned to see Joey hurrying towards him looking like the cat that ate the canary. She smiled excitedly as she approached. "I have to tell you some…" she started to say, but then abruptly cut herself short when she caught sight of Dawson and Jen standing there as well. She cleared her throat as she reached their side. "Hey, guys."
"Hello," Dawson and Jen said in unison. "How was your weekend?" he asked, smiling.
"Um… it was good, Dawson," Joey answered. "You know, the usual. Went to the movies, finished my homework, dined at the Yacht Club. Their filet mignon is to die for."
Jen smiled appreciatively. Dawson chuckled. "Well, I hear you're finally licensed to drive," he said. "Aren't you glad my foray into giving you lessons in driving only lasted a single day?"
She smirked darkly. "You have no idea. We'd probably still be sitting in my driveway arguing."
Their friend arched his brows in agreement. "Friends definitely shouldn't teach friends to drive stick."
"Sure, Dawson," Joey said dryly.
He glanced between them. She pursed her lips and eyed Dawson and Jen impatiently, clearly wanting their friends to leave so she could tell him whatever was on her mind. He couldn't help but grin. Then the familiar ringing went through the halls. "Saved by the bell," he muttered under his breath. Joey's mouth curved into a smirk.
"Well, see you later, guys," Jen said before walking away. Dawson smiled and nodded and then followed her down the hall.
"Finally," Joey breathed. Then she turned back to him and they started heading for their classroom, talking as they went. "So, I got this in the mail on Saturday." She took an envelope out of her backpack. "Maybe fairy tales do come true, Pacey."
She pulled out a piece of fancy paper; it looked like an invitation of some kind. "Harvard's English Department is giving A.J. an award," she told him. "The university will be honoring all prize recipients in a ceremony that includes dinner and a live reading of their works. It'll be in the Barker Center, and it's this weekend. I'm going to take the train on Saturday morning and then come back on Sunday. A.J. bought me a ticket."
His guts twisted. "You're spending the night?"
Joey shrugged, not meeting his gaze as she returned the envelope to her bag. "Yeah. Why not?"
"With college guy?!"
She scoffed. "It's not a big deal, Pacey. A.J. will be the perfect gentleman."
He felt flustered and upset. "But… It's not a good idea, Jo." There was no way she could do something like that. "He's a college sophomore who wants a high school girl to spend the night in his dorm room. Perfect gentleman, my ass."
Scowling, she huffed and walked ahead of him.
They reached Homeroom just as the bell rang. They exchanged hellos with Andie as they made their way to their seats in the back row. He then leaned over to where Joey sat beside him. "And what does Bessie have to say about you spending the night up in the city with your poetry geek?"
Her face reddened and she again refused to meet his gaze. "She's totally fine with it. I'll be 18 in six months. She likes A.J. It's not a big deal. But this is just between you and me, okay? It's our secret."
"Secret? You don't want Dawson to know about your big night with college boy, is that it?" His mood was plummeting by the second. He turned to face the front of the class and refused to look at her.
"It's frankly none of Dawson's business. And, let's be honest, if Dawson felt concerned about me spending the night up there, you know he'd butt in. Anyway, can't some things just be between me and you? Why does everyone in our dysfunctional social circle have to know every single detail about everything?"
Did she really want there to be things just between the two of them? Secrets? Things he'd know about her and no one else would? Not even Dawson? He reveled in the thought, but then frowned. He was sick of settling for crumbs of her affection. She had her sights set on a guy who could give her a semblance of the kind of romantic relationship she craved, but who conveniently lived 100 miles away. Why couldn't she open her eyes and see what she had here—someone right in front of her, something real. Because fantasy was safer than reality.
"And, uh, can you drive me to the train station on Saturday?"
Unbelievable. Why did he continue to put up with this? He ignored her and tried to focus his attention on their Homeroom teacher who was now taking attendance.
"Please, Pacey?" She reached over and grabbed his hand.
He finally turned. Her pleading gaze locked on his. The look in her brown eyes started to melt the coldness he felt. Her hand was a trusting weight in his. No one had ever wielded this kind of power over him. He sighed in defeat. "Of course, I won't tell anyone. And yes, I'll drive you."
"Thank you." Joey smiled sweetly, her eyes sparkling with gratitude, and she squeezed his hand. Her warm hand in his felt so right, as if his skin had been specifically designed for her touch. Suddenly the world had meaning, life had purpose. His agitation slipped away, and when she let go of his hand, his heart just kept falling.
March 25. On Saturday morning, he arrived at the Potter's house and Bessie let him inside. After shaking hands with Bodie, Alexander reached for him and he lifted him in his arms, carrying him around the living room. Joey soon appeared with her overnight bag, greeted him warmly, and then put on her coat.
Bessie said, "Thanks again for driving Joey to the train station, Pacey. We know how important it is for her to do these campus visits, but the B&B has guests and we couldn't get away."
He briefly glanced at Joey, who gave him a pointed look. "That's all right, Bessie. I don't mind."
"We'll pick her up on Sunday afternoon," Bodie added. "So, don't worry about having to make two trips."
"Okay," he replied, handing Alexander off to his mother.
They were soon on the road, heading to the train station. He'd borrowed his mom's wagon again. The run-in he had with his father earlier that morning when he'd gone to the house to get it had been rather unpleasant and he was trying not to think about it. His dad had a knack for making him feel like a failure, knew all the buttons to push, and that was the last thing he needed right now.
"So, what are you going to do this weekend without me around?" Joey asked, breaking the quiet.
"Well, it just so happens that the Capeside Mentoring Program finally found a kid for me," he answered. "They were looking for just the right match, apparently. I'll be meeting him later and spending the day with him. Maybe we'll go to the arcade or something. That's what kids like, right? I know me and Dawson did when we were in the fourth grade."
She arched her brows and smiled. "I can't wait to hear all about it."
When they neared the train station, Joey became positively giddy about attending a fancy dinner where her college beau would be honored that night. Except, Joey never actually referred to A.J. as her boyfriend. As they pulled into the parking lot of the station, she maintained that long-distance relationships don't follow the same rules.
"No, they don't," he allowed. "And that's why they're perfect for you. Because they're not real."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
He shook his head and got out of the car. Her whole trip to the city to put on a fancy dress and dine with Harvard's elite was a fantasy life. He told her it was an eyes-closed wish; reality was going to come and smack her right in the face any moment.
Joey frowned. "Try to have a good weekend, Pacey," she said depressingly, and walked away from him without waiting for a response. "Thanks for the ride."
His gaze followed her. He felt somewhat bad for taking the wind out of her sails. He knew it had been kind of rude for him to say, but he also knew it was true and that she needed to hear it. "Have a good time," he called out after her.
She threw her hand up and gave a sarcastic wave over her shoulder.
It was after ten o'clock at night when he finally got back to Doug's place. It had been an exhausting day and evening with his young mentee, Buzz Thompson. He collapsed on the couch and turned on the TV. The last thing he heard before drifting off was the opening credits to Saturday Night Live.
RING-G-G-G. The sound jarred him from a troubled sleep. Not fully awake, he threw his hands up to protect his face from his father's blows. RING-G-G-G. Awakening from his dream, he realized he wasn't under attack, and the sound he heard was the telephone. "Hello," he said, sleepily, as he pulled the cordless receiver from the end table and up to his ear.
There was a pause. Someone on the other end sniffled. "Pacey?"
His eyes went wide and he started to sit up. "Joey?"
Another pause. "Can you come get me?"
From the sound of her voice, it was obvious she was unhappy. Glancing at the TV, he saw the SNL cast members standing around hugging each other as the end credits rolled. "Where are you?"
"I'm at the train station."
"You're back in Capeside already?"
Another long pause. "…No."
His heart started racing as his mind went into overdrive. "You're still in Boston?"
"Yes. South Station on Atlantic Avenue. I'm on a pay phone in the waiting area. It's in the Grand Concourse."
"Jo, are you all right? What happened? Did he try something? Are you hurt?"
She heaved a sigh. "Nothing happened. I'm not hurt. Just… please come get me, Pacey. The next train back to Capeside isn't until nine o'clock and I don't want to sit in this station alone all night."
He started moving off the couch. "It's probably gonna take me a couple hours to get there."
"I know. I'll be okay until then."
"Okay. Just… Just stay there, Joey. I'm leaving right now."
"Thank you, Pacey." Then she hung up.
It was almost three o'clock in the morning when he arrived at the train station and parked the wagon. Once inside, he noticed there was barely anyone around. He followed the signs directing him to the enclosed waiting area. Rounding a corner on the right, he found Joey sitting alone on a long wooden bench. There was no one else in the room. "Hey," he said when he saw her, and again asked her what had happened. She again told him nothing happened.
He sat down in one of the chairs against the wall, facing her. It was obvious she had been crying. Something had definitely happened. He watched her while she put on her scarf and started shrugging on her coat. "You got bored? You got homesick? He finally ripped off his rubber mask and revealed his true alien features? What?"
"I don't want to talk about it," she said as she stood up and started walking away from him.
He followed her out of the waiting area. "Oh, well, forgive me if I'm having a little bit of trouble with the no questions asked part." She just kept walking and didn't respond.
When they were in the car and he was pulling out of his parking space, he gazed at her. She was wiping fresh tears from her cheeks. "Come on, Jo. Just tell me. You call me in the middle of the night and I drive all the way up here to get you. The least you could do is tell me why."
"There's nothing to tell," she insisted.
"If nothing happened, then why aren't you spending the night with your college beau and coming home on Sunday afternoon as planned?"
She heaved a sigh of annoyance. "Just drop it, Pacey."
He turned onto I-93 South and followed signs for the MA-3. "So, then why don't you tell me about your day in the city? Did you get to do any sight-seeing? How was the award dinner thing?"
Joey crossed her arms and looked out the window. He turned the heat up inside the car. "Well, since you're not gonna talk, how about I talk instead? I could tell you about my day with my young padawan?" She still didn't reply.
"Okay, so I'm just gonna assume that your silence is your acquiescence. The kid the mentoring program paired me up with? His name is Buzz, and let me tell ya, he was a handful. An adorable little brat. I ended up taking him to the arcade like I told you about, and he got into a fight with these older kids in there. Man, that kid's got a lot of anger. I thought it would be a good idea for him to work out his aggression with some physical labor. Working on True Love does wonders for the psyche, as I'm sure you would agree."
He glanced over at her. She was still peering out the window, keeping quiet. "Anyway, the kid gave me real shit for it. He had a terrible attitude. Nine-year-olds shouldn't be so nasty."
"You were nasty when you were nine," she blurted. "And you were angry, too."
Pausing, he swallowed. Her words hung in the air. "Huh. Anyway… After I'd had about enough, I dropped him off at home. I drove right over to the program's offices to find out what the kid's deal was. Apparently, he'd been through a lot of mentors. They've all quit on him because of his attitude problems. See, he had told me his dad died, but the program director informed me that his dad wasn't dead. The kid's father had abandoned the family and moved away to start a whole new family. His mother had to start working a lot to support them and she's just not around much. Buzz's bratty behavior is really just his way of testing someone's commitment, you know, to see if they can be trusted. To see if they're gonna stick around or if they're just another person who's going to reject him."
"Gee, sounds familiar," Joey deadpanned while gazing out the window.
He sighed. "Yeah, well, Principal Green and the program director thought me and the kid were a perfect match. Anyway, so I went to the grocery store and picked up some stuff to make meatloaf and mashed potatoes, and went over to Buzz's house. We sat in the kitchen and cooked together. I'm tellin' you, Jo. You should've seen the transformation in this kid. He was a real pain in my ass all day long, and then all it took was showing up and giving him my undivided attention. I figure that's what kids need, you know? I guess I have a knack for bonding with people who have dysfunctional dad issues. Right, Jo?" He grinned.
She snorted, but still kept her face turned away from him. Forty-five minutes later they were driving through Plymouth. "I'm starving," he said. "So, McDonald's or Dunkin Donuts? Your pick."
"I knew there was a reason to live," she snarked.
"McDonald's it is!" he exclaimed with false enthusiasm.
He pulled off the highway and several minutes later they were pulling into the fast food restaurant's parking lot. "Do you want anything? My treat. French fries? Apple pie? Fudge sundae? A bottle of scotch and a razor blade?" She didn't reply. She didn't even look at him.
"Geez, Potter. I had no idea you could keep your mouth shut this long. It must be a record." Still no response. Then he went through the drive-thru and ordered some food before parking the car. He held out a red container emblazoned with the golden arches. "Fry?" he offered with a smile.
Joey sighed and shook her head.
"Fine," he shrugged. "More for me."
An hour later, the sun had come up and they were only a few miles from Capeside. He looked over to see Joey had started crying again. His heart constricted. He wished she'd just talk to him. "So, are you ever gonna speak again? Come on, Jo. Say something."
She finally turned to look at him, her expression angry, and started to bemoan the fact that he had been right about A.J. all along. "You were right, okay? Right as always. Pacey Witter, the only person in my life who ever speaks the truth."
He scoffed. "That's not entirely accurate." There were plenty of truths he'd never spoken to her.
She was angry, as if she was expecting him to pull an 'I told you so' on her. There had been another girl. The fairy tale was over. Cinderella had returned from the ball and it was pumpkin city all over again. "I'm sorry, Jo," he told her.
"You know, the whole time I was watching them, I just kept thinking, 'this is it. This is real, just like Pacey said. This is the real thing.'" He knew he could've done the whole I told you so thing, but he hated seeing her like this, hated seeing her unhappy. "And it reminded me once again what exactly I don't have."
"Keep looking, you'll find it," he encouraged. He wished she'd open her eyes and see what was sitting right next to her in this car, but he was starting to accept the chances of that were slim to none.
"No, I won't. I mean, isn't it obvious by now? I'm not meant to."
He wasn't coming to her pity party. "Why? Because you're 17 and alone? Come on."
She denied that was the reason. "In my entire life, there have been two people who've actually known me, Pacey: Dawson and—"
Oh, come on. "This A.J. guy didn't know you. All right? I don't care how you felt about him, Jo. He didn't know you. 'Cause if he did, he never would've walked away." There was no way in hell that poetry geek understood her.
Joey sighed. "I was going to say you, Pacey."
He stared at her. How could she admit that and still not realize what they shared? Still not know how special and amazing what was happening between them was? Not know that this was real? "Okay."
He started to hit the brakes and pull the car over. God, she frustrated him to no end. How could she still be so blind to a truth that was literally staring her in the face? He couldn't take it anymore. Enough was enough.
"Have you totally lost it?" Joey said.
The car came to an abrupt stop. "Not totally, not yet."
Then he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, Joey doing the same, and they stepped off to the side of the road. He took a steadying breath. "All right, what did you mean by that?"
"About what?" She shrugged, her brows knitting in confusion.
"About me knowing you better than anybody else."
"Exactly what I said, Pacey. You know me, okay? In a way that nobody else besides Dawson ever has."
He really wanted to leave Dawson out of this. "We're talkin' about me. I mean, you can't keep on doin' this to me, Potter."
"Doing what? What? So, I count on you, and I tell you secrets, and suddenly it's—?"
"And you call me in the middle of the night to pick you up. Why?" If she wasn't going to willingly open her eyes, he would have to pry them open.
Joey shook her head in frustration. "Well, I'm sorry that I called. I thought that I could—"
Good lord, she still didn't get it. "I'm not mad that you called me. I just want to know why you called me."
She shrugged, shaking her head. "You were the first person that I thought of, Pacey."
Not Bessie or Bodie. Not Dawson. Him. "And what does that mean, Jo?"
"It means that…" The sentence trailed off and she shrugged. He could see in her face she was searching for the answer. "I guess it…" She paused. "It means that I can talk to you and that you're there for me."
The butterflies in his gut were frantic. It felt like his heart was in his throat. "Don't you ever get tired of talkin'?"
"No, I don't."
"Well, I get tired." Joey was babbling her confusion. He could tell she still had no idea what was happening here. "I don't want to talk anymore."
He became unraveled. It was a moment he wouldn't forget in a hundred lifetimes; a sensation that seeped into his very bones. The hunger he had been denying himself roared into life with a vengeance. He moved forward, gripped her face with his hands, pulled her towards him, and found her mouth with his.
Sparks of pleasure ignited inside him.
Her mouth was so soft, her shocked gasp lost in the movement of his lips. His tongue brushed her lower lip and it went straight to his groin. His blood roared in his ears. The butterflies in his stomach were detonating like grenades. He simultaneously felt like he was dying in this moment and more alive than he had ever been. He was in love with Joey. Completely in love with her.
He had fully expected her to pull away, to react badly, and for a moment she was totally still, just letting herself be kissed. Then to his surprise she was actually kissing him back. He felt her mitten-covered hands move to gently hold his arms. His heart swelled, full to bursting. She tasted like everything he had imagined, like a paradise oasis in the desert. She tasted like everything he had ever hungered for, but had always been denied him. She tasted like everything he had ever needed, but had spent his life not knowing it until now. His head reeled with the rightness of it, the sweetness and the hunger.