A/N: This chapter contains explicit sexual content.
June 21. At eight o'clock on Wednesday morning they raised the sails and then traveled steadily along the South Carolina coast. The wind was fair and the weather was fine. By nine o'clock that night they were anchoring a mile off Tybee Island, not far from Savannah, Georgia. While in Wilmington, Joey had picked up some CDs of her favorite alternative bands and a deck of cards. They spent the evening playing poker and listening to music, their laughter bouncing off the cabin walls. When they got into their hammocks, they took turns reading from Moby Dick until they could no longer keep their eyes open.
Having set the alarm for six a.m., Pacey was readying the boat to make sail at the crack of dawn. If the wind was kind, it would take roughly fifteen hours to reach Jacksonville and he wanted to get there by nightfall. The wind was indeed kind, and they were mooring the True Love in an empty slip along one of the Jacksonville Beach Marina docks by twilight. The marina was fully equipped with clean bathrooms and hot showers, laundry, fuel station, and bait shop, and on Friday morning they were able to partake of its services before raising anchor.
On Saturday afternoon, they arrived in Port Everglades, and after lowering the sails, Pacey drove the boat into a large marina. "I thought we'd be in Key West by now," Joey said. "You said it was three or four days away."
"I guess I calculated wrong," he shrugged. "Florida is a really long state. Who knew?" He grinned, a humorous glint in his gaze.
She rolled her eyes. "So, what you're saying is that Key West is probably still days away?"
He pursed his lips. "Uh… yeah, most likely."
"Maybe as the first mate, and as someone who is admittedly much better at math, I should be in charge of the nautical chart, Pacey."
"Probably a good idea, Jo."
Once the boat was docked, they set out hand-in-hand across a giant causeway toward the city center. Seeing a sign posted for a Hop-On Hop-Off Bus Tour, they decided to take in the sights of all Miami had to offer. An unbroken line of luxury hotels separated the ocean and the long golden beach from the main thoroughfare. Each hotel had its own private beach area fenced in, leaving access to only tiny strips of sand for the general public.
"Very unfair, in my opinion," he remarked.
A network of smaller causeways connected a myriad of smaller islands, a residential area in a sheltered lagoon, protected from the ocean by a narrow strip of land and surrounded by the glamorous homes of the fabulously wealthy. Meticulously-tended gardens reached down to the water, each boasting a fishing boat on a private dock.
"Wouldn't it be amazing to live in one of those houses," Joey said. "It'd be like a fairy tale. I could see us in a house like that."
His brows furrowed and he laughed. "Uh, yeah… that's never gonna happen. The chances of us ever being rich are slim to none, but I guess we could start playing the lottery."
She fought a grin. "I know it's just a fantasy, but it doesn't hurt to dream. I've always wanted to know what it would be like to never be poor again."
"Jo, I honestly don't think you're that poor. You have a roof over your head, your own bed to sleep in, and plenty to eat. Other people aren't so fortunate."
"Yeah, I know you're right, Pacey. I know I should be thankful for what I do have, but when you grow up in Capeside surrounded by rich snobs who look down on you your whole life…"
He squeezed her hand. "I know, which is one of the reasons why Capeside sucks. But it's only a matter of time before we can put the place behind us. And I don't need a mansion or some fancy beach house. As long as I'm with you, I'd be happy anywhere. Even in Capeside, honestly, as much as I hate the place."
She shook her head, thoughts of home on her mind, chuckling over the differences despite growing up in the same place, surrounded by the same people. "Even though he's always wanted to go to Hollywood, Dawson loves Capeside and would probably be content there if he had to stay. All his little movie projects were always about Capeside, if you think about it. But now that I've gotten a small taste of the rest of the world, I can't imagine just spending forever there. What do you think that says about us?"
"You and I have had a very different experience than he has, Jo."
"You're right about that."
When the bus tour ended, they stocked up on provisions for the journey ahead in an ultra-modern supermarket that was bigger than any grocery store they had ever seen. The size of the place and the vast selection inside was mind-boggling. Near the marina, they purchased a navigational chart made specifically for the Florida Keys. The Keys were beautiful, but they also had their inherent dangers. Run the boat up on a reef, and it could be lost forever.
They soon made their way back to the dock. Miami was vibrant and beautiful, but unpleasantly hot and humid and the noise of the traffic was deafening. Leaving the port, the dike of buildings and palm trees in Miami disappeared as they sailed south before anchoring in Biscayne Bay for the night. Depending on how fast the wind carried the True Love, Joey calculated that Key West was two to three days away.
On Monday, the Atlantic Ocean brightened into a gorgeous turquoise. In the afternoon, a bulwark of palm trees and tropical shrubs reappeared. They had reached Key Largo. There was something beautiful, natural, almost untouched about the clear blue water and breathtaking scenery of the island. It was as if they'd stepped into another world.
Once the boat was docked, Joey inquired the marina staff about an Internet café on the island, but was instead pointed in the direction of the public library. After logging onto one of the six computers, she checked her email, happy to find a message from Bessie. She hit the reply button and wrote "Hello from Florida" in the subject line.
"Bessie,
It's so nice to get an email from you! It made me happy to hear that you and Alexander and Bodie are having a good summer so far. We've made it safely to the Keys. I miss you guys. I'm sure you're very busy with the B&B. I really think I'm gonna need to get some kind of job when I get back to Capeside in September. I'm sure the B&B is going to need all the help it can get with you and Bodie struggling without me all summer, but I think I'm going to need some kind of gainful employment that actually allows for a profit margin if I ever want to get out of Capeside and attend a good college. They don't come cheap.
So, Pacey and I have started reading to each other at night. I know… it sounds a little cheesy, but it's comforting in a way. Sometimes we'd take turns reading magazines or newspaper articles… you know, to keep abreast of important world events like Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston's impending wedding… but then we started to read Moby Dick. (Thanks again for sending me my summer reading list.) We take turns reading to each other. I like reading… but to tell you the truth, my favorite part is listening to Pacey read. He really is a good actor, you know. And at the sad parts… I can tell when his voice chokes up just a little… like he's actually on the verge of tears. And then I almost start crying myself and he teases me for being a sap. Even though we both know he started it!
Bess… I don't know how to explain how I feel about Pacey. The words "I love him" sound trite and overused. It's like, anyone could use those words to describe how they felt about anybody… about anything. I mean, Antony loved Cleopatra, right? Romeo loved Juliet? And I feel no remote connection to those couples. I wish I had the words to describe the unique feeling that we share. I'm sure it sounds pretty delusional to presume us to be the first and only people to ever feel this way about each other… but I still like to think there is something about Pacey and me that no one else could ever quite touch. "Love" doesn't even come close to describing what I feel.
We're temporarily docked in Key Largo before we continue south to Key West. I hope you write back soon. Give all my love to Alexander and Bodie, and tell them I miss them.
Love,
Joey"
Walking out of the library, she soon returned to the dock and boarded the True Love. Her captain needing to concentrate and carefully navigate the Keys, she decided not to be a distraction, and after lathering herself with sunscreen, left the cockpit and went down to the forward bow to lay in the sun. It gave her a good excuse to switch off and think about Pacey. In her daydream, they were shipwrecked on a desert island like in those cheesy 80's movies, Blue Lagoon and the one with Phoebe Cates and that guy from Charles in Charge. Of course, that one wasn't an island, exactly. More like a desert oasis. Same difference.
She forced her mind back to the fantasy at hand. Having lost all their possessions in the shipwreck, they'd be forced to live without clothes. They'd spend their days spearing fish, climbing trees for nuts and berries, and having blue lagoon moments in a rushing waterfall. They would both get a golden bronze tan, and she would plait flowers into her hair and languish all day in the sand. At night, the sky was always cloudless and the moon always full, and Pacey would make love to her under the stars.
Her mind lingered on that part of the fantasy for some time, his tenderness and the gentle way in which he held her, his naked body aligned with hers. Oh, the things he would do to her. The things she would let him do to her. The things she wanted to do to him. A smile crept along her mouth and a blush stained her cheeks as she felt heat rising up inside her body.
She could easily picture them living forever on their own private desert island. It was an idle wish, and a selfish one, to be rid of the real world and all its complications, but as with any daydream, there was some truth to it. Wherever she was, she wanted Pacey, just as she wanted these peaceful days to last, and a lifetime spent with him to be hers.
June 28. Navigating the slower current of Hawk Channel that lay between the Keys and a line of reefs to the south and east of the islands, they reached Key West on Wednesday evening. They were soon greeted by feathery palm fronds silhouetted against a lavender sky, the sun a bright orange ball turning the horizon pinkish red as it sank into the water.
"Pacey, we made it! You did it. You really did it."
A huge smile had broken out on his face. He turned to look at her. Their gaze met and held a long moment. "We did it," he said. "I couldn't have done it without you."
Her eyes filled with emotion. She stepped closer and raised her mouth to his, anchoring his head close with a splayed hand at his neck. After a long, breathless kiss, they broke apart and he gazed down at her, his heart full and happy. "I love you, Joey."
"I love you, too."
They soon found a marina that looked like it had less than 100 slips and tried their best to dock inconspicuously. However, an older lady with deeply weathered skin and big bleach-blond hair, in white capris and a bright yellow T-shirt that read Stock Island Yacht Club and Marina, came upon them as they tied off the last mooring line. She gave them a dazzling bright smile. "Welcome to Key West," she greeted. "Is this your first time here?"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied, inwardly groaning that they'd been unable to slip by unnoticed.
"Do you have a reservation?"
"Um… reservation?"
She nodded, smiling her unnaturally white teeth at them. "Did you reserve a dock slip?"
Hesitating, he glanced at Joey. "Uh, no…"
"Well, lucky for you, we have some slips available. You've come to the best marina on the island. Like a treasure in paradise, the Stock Island Yacht Club and Marina is perfectly situated off the pristine shoreline of the Atlantic Ocean and the crystal clear waters of the Boca Chica Channel." She spoke like she was reading lines out of a brochure. "We're only four miles from the Key West International Airport and ten minutes away from the historic district and Duval Street. Our unmatched location is perfect for boating, scuba diving, ecotours, and some of the best sport fishing in the Florida Keys. You won't find a more state-of-the-art marina facility."
Joey smiled tightly. "Thank you. We're thrilled to be here."
He bit his cheek to stop himself from grinning at her dry tone.
"So, how long do you plan on docking? And will you require a dry dock or a wet slip?"
"Wet slip, and we'll probably be here for about a month," he replied.
The woman looked over the sailboat. "Looks like a twenty-five-footer. What's your daft?"
Pursing his lips, he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Four feet."
"The wet slip dock fee will be a thousand dollars for the month."
He groaned, hanging his head. He hadn't wanted to spend nearly that much of his savings on this trip. Maybe he could find a job on the island to help off-set the cost.
The woman shrugged. "We have the cheapest rates in Key West. Take it or leave it."
"There goes the rest of the casino winnings," Joey muttered. "And then some."
"All right," he said. "We'll take it." Where else were they gonna go?
It wasn't long before they were walking hand-in-hand around the marina, checking out the place. The yacht club was a grand building. It was painted a pastel yellow and had a turquoise blue tin roof, with wrap-around spindled porches on two floors. A large outdoor patio contained several round tables with umbrellas. It had its own small patch of sand for a private beach complete with deck chairs and blue cabanas, and a roped-off area in the channel designated for swimming.
Inside the club, there was white wicker furniture, French Quarter tile floors, white plantation shutters, and an abundance of tropical plants. Lots of throw pillows in a floral print. High ceilings with gently whirring ceiling fans everywhere. If he looked up "South Florida" on the Internet, he'd probably find pictures that looked exactly like this.
While Joey was milling about the club lobby, he located the payphones and called home. Thankfully, he got the answering machine. "Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad. Hi, Carrie and Piper and Audrey and Maddie. So sorry I missed you. Too bad we didn't get to have one of our nice family chats. Just wanted to let you all know that me and Joey made it safely to Key West, our home for the next month or so. Also, wanted to give you an update: Joey still isn't pregnant, but we'll keep trying. I'll call again right before we leave to head home. Bye."
The sky was darkening and they returned to the boat, deciding to check out the island the following day. They read a chapter from Moby Dick before turning out the lights. Around noon, they ventured into the middle of town. The streets narrowed and the palm trees were plentiful. Pedestrians and cats outnumbered the cars. They soon reached Duval Street, Key West's main drag. The air smelled like salt and liquor. "Everyone seems so cheerful," Joey remarked.
"Well, to be fair, many of them also seem drunk," he said, and she laughed.
Walking along Duval, they came upon Danny's Island Hideaway. A "Help Wanted" sign in the front window propelled him inside, pulling Joey along with him. Although the door was unlocked, the place was empty inside, with chairs upside down on the tables.
"We're closed," a voice called out from behind the bar before a man popped up into their view. He looked to be in his late 30's or early 40's, with cropped short black hair and brown skin. "We don't open until four."
"Um, are you Danny?" he asked.
"No, I'm Steve. I run the place."
"Then who's Danny?"
"The owner."
"He's not around?"
"He's in Boston. Or New York, maybe. He typically only comes down here in the winter. Look, we really are closed. If you're looking for food or a beverage of your choice, you'll need to move on somewhere else."
He shook his head. "You need help around here?"
Steve furrowed his brows. "Help?"
"There's a sign in your window."
"Oh! Well, yeah. You lookin' for work?"
"I am."
"Okay… For starters, do you drink?"
Not usually… "No, I'm not old enough."
Steve tilted his head back and forth, as if considering his response, and walked out from behind the bar. "Okay, good, you don't drink. That's a rare commodity on this island, let me tell you. The turn around here is crazy. Good-for-nothing sons-of-bitches showing up to work already drunk or hungover, or not showing up at all, or they do but then they're drunk by the end of their shift. I fired three people in the last two weeks. So, I'm in a real bind."
"I'm available for the next month, and then I'll be heading back north."
"Where you from?"
"Cape Cod. The name's Pacey, by the way, and this is my girlfriend, Joey. We sailed down here for the summer."
They shook hands. "Nice to meet you. You sail down here with your folks?"
"No. Just the two of us."
Steve blinked. "The two of you? Sailed all the way from Cape Cod to Key West? By yourselves?"
A sense of self-satisfaction filled his chest. "Yeah."
"Wow. Uh, well, do you at least know your way around a kitchen?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I think so."
"Pacey's a really good cook," Joey interjected.
His jaw clenched as he fought a smile, warmth rising inside him at her praise. "Well, I probably caught, cleaned, and cooked almost every kind of fish between here and Massachusetts."
"Did you, now?" Steve smirked. "Okay, well, look, if you're under twenty-one, you can't bartend, but you'll end up doing almost everything else around the Hideaway, from washing dishes and replenishing stock to mopping up behind the bar and sweeping the walk out front to prepping food in the kitchen. Sometimes fishermen like to bring their catch in here and have us clean 'em and cook 'em, on top of our customers ordering off the regular menu, and it can get kind of crazy back there. It's not a glamorous job."
He smiled. "Perfect for me, then. I'm not qualified for glamorous."
Steve grinned appreciatively. "I like you, kid. You're hired." He turned to Joey and eyed her up and down. "You lookin' for work, too? We could use a waitress who will show up on time and remain sober through her shift."
She pursed her lips and shrugged. "Sure. We could use the cash."
"Joey, is it? Great. Our weekend staff are our rock stars, been with us for the past ten years at least. It's the Tuesday through Thursday shifts we desperately need covered, four to midnight. We're closed on Mondays. The pay is minimum wage plus tips. That work for you guys?"
"Yeah, sounds fine," she replied.
He nodded. "Yep."
They shook hands again. "Stop by anytime tomorrow and we'll go over the paperwork to make it official."
When they stepped back out onto Duval Street, they watched Steve remove the "Help Wanted" sign from the window.
July. Apart from the tourist areas around Duval Street, once it reached ten o'clock at night Key West turned into an old age retirement home. Everything closed down, stores and restaurants, even the fast food joints. Although their first week working at the Hideaway was hectic because of the Fourth of July holiday, Duval Street loud and alive, the customers non-stop from open until close, the island was a quiet and detached place, and its people liked simple pleasures and easy living. Key West offered the beauty he and Joey craved, the peaceful setting that relaxed, and long strips of uncrowded beaches. Their bodies grew browner every day, sticky with salt, their hair full of sand, the smell of the ocean always in their nostrils—it was a great life, a different life.
On Monday, the Hideaway was closed, and their new boss had offered to introduce them to snorkeling. They were supposed to meet him in the afternoon. Joey was in the boat's cockpit, painting. He joined her from below deck. "You wanna go sailing this weekend?" he asked, sitting down next to her.
"Sure," she said. "Where do you want to go?"
"Let's just go around the island and see what we find," he shrugged.
She reached over and ran her fingers through his hair. "It's getting long," she said. "You need a haircut. We could go do that before we meet Steve later."
Nodding his agreement, he grinned at her. "Yeah, I know. I'll call him and ask if he knows a good barber."
"Do you know what today is, Pacey?"
"Um… Monday?"
"No. Well, yes, but… what else?"
He didn't know what she was getting at. His brows furrowed behind his sunglasses as he watched some guys nearby mooring their own sailboat to the dock. "July tenth?"
She rolled her eyes. "It's our one-month anniversary."
"Just one month?"
"Well, yeah. We left Capeside on June tenth," she replied.
Smiling, he nodded. "Well, if you want my opinion, Jo, I'm willing to count back as far as Aunt Gwen's house. So, that would be… two and a half months by Pacey Witter's calculations, with a little break in the middle."
Joey's mouth curved into a smirk as she dipped her paintbrush into a small jar of water. "Between the two of us, who has never gotten a failing grade in math?"
He laughed. "Okay, fine. One month. Are we the kind of people who do one-month anniversaries, Jo? Now, six months—that's special. A year. Five years. Ten. But… one month? That's not exactly a milestone."
"And here I thought you had the bleeding heart of a romantic beneath your glib, sarcastic exterior," she said, grinning. "Imagine my disappointment."
"So, what are you saying, Potter? You wanna go out and celebrate?"
She shrugged, feigning disinterest, and smiled. "You're obviously not into that, Pacey. So, we don't have to do anything. Like you said, one month isn't a big deal. It's not special."
He couldn't tell if she was kidding or if she was truly bothered. "But if it's special to you, then it would be special to me."
Joey turned to look at him. She flipped her ponytail over her shoulder and gave him another smile. Flirtatious? No—knowing. Like she knew something, a secret. But what would that even be? Absurd. His gaze was drawn again to the other sailboat.
"I want it to be special for the both of us, Pacey."
There was something about the way she said it, so knowingly, so provocatively, that he turned towards her sharply, suspicion growing inside him. He saw something in her eyes. He was sure when he'd first looked at her it was simply fondness or affection, but then it quickly became something more. He thought it might have been desire… passion… arousal? Or had he just hoped that was what he saw? Was his mind playing tricks on him?
"Then it will be, Jo. Would you like me to take you out on the town tonight?"
"I think we've been out on the town almost every night, Pace. Maybe we should stay in."
"That sounds nice. We still have the final two chapters of Moby Dick to read. We've been neglecting poor Ishmael." He grinned. "Look, I'll do whatever you want to do, Jo. Go out, stay in… I'm yours for the night to do as you wish."
She smiled sweetly, her eyes glinting with mischief.
Soon after using one of the marina's payphones, he and Joey went into town to the barbershop Steve had recommended, Soul Scissors, just one block from the main drag on Truman Avenue. Hand-in-hand they walked inside, the bell over the door dinging as they went through it, and the first thing he noticed was that the place smelled of soap and scented lotions. It was also partially empty. Besides the young kid getting a haircut by a heavy-set black woman and the other customer who looked like he was in his mid-twenties getting his afro cut off by a barber with dreads, the shop had nobody else inside.
A man appeared from the back. He looked to be in his thirties, slender and muscular, with a well-groomed beard. "What can we do for you?" he asked as he approached.
"Uh, I need a haircut. Steve Johnson recommended the place."
"You know Steve?" the barber smiled.
"He's our boss at the Hideaway," he said, tilting his head at Joey beside him.
"The Hideaway?" The man's brows furrowed for a moment. "You must be new, then."
They nodded. "We just started last week," Joey replied.
"Cool. I might run into you there sometime." The barber gestured to an empty chair in front of a large mirror.
While Joey went and sat in the row of chairs designated as a waiting area, placing the large beach bag she'd been carrying at her feet, he got into the chair. Up on the wall he saw the barber's license and that his name was Alan Hughes. There was also a sign listing the shop's services and prices. The price for a haircut was twenty-five dollars, but a buzzcut was only twenty. He pursed his lips, considering it, and then shrugged. Why not? It was hotter than a crotch in Key West and the humidity was killer.
The barber wrapped a black apron around his neck. "Do you know what kind of cut you're lookin' for?"
He glanced over at Joey, who was flipping through a magazine, before turning back to look at the barber in the mirror in front of them. "I think I want the buzzcut."
"You got it," said Alan, and then he grabbed the electric clippers. "How short you want it?"
"I don't want to look like a skinhead or like I'm joining the army," he answered. "But, you know, short."
"Any particular style? Fades? Edges?"
"Nah. Just something simple."
After the barber made six or seven swipes across his head, it was done. He gaped at the mirror, amazed at the difference it made in his appearance. He looked over at Joey, who was staring him, her mouth falling open. His stomach tightened. "Do you like it?" he asked.
"It's… well, it's different. Not at all what I was expecting."
He frowned. "Does it look bad?"
Her mouth curved into a half-smile as she gave him a pointed look. "You could never look bad, Pacey." She shrugged. "It'll just take some getting used to."
"Your man looks good," the barber said with a smile, patting him on the shoulder, and he chuckled.
"See, Jo? He says I look good, and he's the expert."
She pursed her lips, fighting a grin.
Just then the door opened, the bell ringing, as a man walked inside, clad in Bermuda shorts and a bowling shirt with a gaudy tropical pattern. "Hey, Alan."
"'Sup, Robert. How's it goin'?"
"Pretty good, pretty good," the man replied. "Guess which magnificent vessel I saw sailing into the harbor yesterday?" In the mirror, he watched Alan give the man a curious look as he unsnapped the apron from his neck. "Tabitha's Secret."
The barber shook his head while he carefully pulled the apron away from him, making sure loose hairs didn't get on his clothing. "Your boss, Steve, will love that," Alan told him in a sarcastic tone.
"I take it Tabitha's Secret is a...?" he began.
"A yacht," Alan replied. "A very large yacht, owned by one Mr. James Moore. He's Danny Brecker's business partner."
He hopped out of the chair. "Danny Brecker… as in Danny's-Island-Hideaway Danny?"
The barber nodded. "Yeah." He looked over at the man who'd taken a seat in the waiting area and was now perusing a newspaper. "These two young folks work for Steve now, Robert. Just got hired."
The man looked up from the paper and nodded. "Ah. Well, I'm sure I'll be seeing you. Steve's a good dude."
He smiled before turning back to Alan. "And Steve doesn't like him—the business partner?"
"Well, Danny is a very laid back dude, likes the Hideaway just as it is, only spends a couple months here in the winter, and pretty much lets Steve manage the place without too much interference," Alan answered. "Mr. Moore, on the other hand, for years has been wanting to turn the Hideaway into a classy establishment for rich folks, which is not the vibe of that place at all. There's the yacht clubs for that, not to mention the luxury resorts, one of which Mr. Moore owns: the Ambrosia Hotel. It's the classiest place on the island, is always winning some award or another, especially the restaurant. All his restaurants do. I have to admit, you can get a damn fine meal at the Ambrosia's restaurant. Took my wife there for our anniversary last year. Expensive as hell, but worth it."
He and Joey walked over to the reception desk where the cash register was, and Alan rang him up. He handed over the cash and tip. "Thanks for the haircut," he said.
Alan smiled. "You're welcome. Stop by when you need it buzzed again, if you plan on keeping it short—probably in a few weeks. Say hi to Steve next time you see him."
"I will," he replied, taking Joey's hand in his, and she threaded their fingers. "We're meeting him later."
They eventually made their way to a beach on the Gulf side of the island. They'd found this was the loveliest time of day to go to Key West's beaches—the late afternoon. The sand was soft and white. Steve had told them it was imported from Barbados. Fringed with coconut palms and leafy mango trees, this particular beach wasn't large, but was beautiful against the varied blues of the sea. The palm trees, laden with fruit, stretched out towards the water, their shade providing welcome relief. Only the tourists exposed themselves to the full rays of the sun and the blazing heat of the sand.
Around them, children worked on building sand castles while their parents sat and watched. Another group played a game of volleyball while some simply sat and enjoyed the sunshine. Others were playing frisbee. Finding a shady spot beneath a large coconut palm, Joey dropped the overstuffed beach bag slung over her shoulder.
"Steve's not here yet," he remarked, pulling his T-shirt over his head while his girlfriend laid out a beach blanket over the sand.
Joey's ponytailed-head disappeared inside her shirt. Pulling it off, she revealed the halter top of her cobalt blue bikini. "I'm sure he'll be here soon." She pulled off her white shorts and folded them neatly before placing them down on one end of the blanket. "He said he'd meet us at four o'clock. We're early."
His eyes took in the sight of her lying there in her bikini; once again he was struck speechless by her beauty. By now he should be used to it, but somehow, she still managed to leave him breathless.
"Can I have the sunscreen, Pace?" she asked, adjusting her sunglasses.
Without taking his eyes off her, he reached into the bag and dug around until he found the bottle she'd packed and pulled it out. "Here you go." He glanced down at the overstuffed bag. "You sure packed a lot. What all have you got in there? And did you pack our book? For snorkeling?"
She shrugged and smiled. "You never know what you might need. Maybe we'll end up lounging on the beach for a while, and reading a book in the sun is a very relaxing activity."
He then watched every movement she made as she rubbed the white lotion across her tanned body. With each pass, the fire simmering inside him increased as lustful thoughts of loving her teased him. Someday, hopefully. Someday he'd be able to. But if he had any hope of surviving the afternoon, he needed to look elsewhere. Lifting his eyes, he caught the wispy trail of a military jet as it quickly moved across the sky high above them. When it disappeared from view, he lowered his gaze and caught several men watching Joey as she applied a layer of sunscreen to her long legs. His jaw clenched in annoyance.
"When you're done, can I get some help?" he said, ignoring the men and sitting down on the blanket beside her, kissing her cheek.
Joey paused with one hand on her calf and smiled. "Of course." Moving closer, she squeezed sunscreen into her palm. "Turn around and I'll get your back."
The nerve endings in his back jumped the second her hands made contact. Her touch felt like a caress as she spread the sunscreen across his upper back and shoulders. He loved the feel of her hands on his skin. It was enough to make him suck in a breath, and blow every other thought out of his head. Gradually she worked her way down his spine. Instinctively, he leaned back against her caress, content to sit like this the whole day.
"Anywhere else you need help?" she asked as her hands skimmed his lower back and above the waistband of his swim trunks.
Was there a hint of flirtatiousness in her tone, or was his mind playing tricks on him? He could think of a few other places he'd like her hands, but none were appropriate for their current location nor had their relationship progressed to the point where such a thing would even be currently possible. Only in his dreams. Hopefully a future reality. "I'm good for now. What about you?"
Her hands left his skin. He felt her warmth long after she no longer touched him. "Just my back," Joey said. "I covered everywhere else."
He took his time covering every inch of her shoulders and back, her skin warm and soft under his touch. When he could no longer use applying sunscreen as his reason for touching her, he let his hand rest on her shoulder and laid a soft kiss on the back of her neck. "All set."
They sat side by side on the blanket, watching the water and the beachgoers. Joey reached over and ran her fingers through his buzzed short hair. "It's growing on me," she said. "Now you just need to wash the salt out."
He chuckled, grinning at her. "I probably haven't had a hot shower in about two weeks. My body is one with the sea, Jo. Just me and the salt water."
She rolled her eyes and laughed as she pulled a water bottle out of the beach bag.
They greeted Steve when he arrived and before long, they were in the ocean exploring the bounty beneath the gentle waves. The Gulf of Mexico was warm and crystal clear. Beneath its surface the bright, colorful tropical fish darted and swam in the pristine water. The yellows and blues of angelfish and butterfly fish showed clearly against the light sandy bottom. With Joey swimming beside him, this was his idea of the perfect life.
At six o'clock, their boss gave them a ride back to the center of town, and they were once again walking hand-in-hand down Duval Street. They came across La Concha Grill & Café, just two blocks from the Hideaway. The scent of grilled meat and fish greeted them as they approached the open entrance to the dining area. The large open windows filled the outer walls of the building, allowing the gentle ocean breeze to blow into the restaurant and carry the aroma of the cooking food out to the sidewalk to tantalize passersby.
"We haven't tried this place yet," Joey said.
"Let's check it out."
The ambiance inside represented the usual tropical décor found in Key West, and it had an outdoor motif—it was as if they were seated on an outdoor porch without actually being outside. The lighting was dim, and there was a band setting up to play on a small stage on the other side of the large dining room. He and Joey were seated at a small table near the windows and began perusing the menu.
"Hi, I'm Natalie, what can I get you two to drink?" asked their waitress, a tall, skinny girl with her red ponytail pulled through the back of a white baseball cap.
"I'll have a Coca-Cola," he said.
"Just water for me," Joey added.
She returned quickly with the drinks. "So, have you guys decided what you'd like to eat?" Natalie asked while removing a pad and pencil from her apron.
Joey glanced down at her menu. "I'll have the conch sandwich and fries."
He nodded. "Same."
As Natalie walked off, the band that had been setting up began to play. They were pretty decent; mixing a little Caribbean sound to a rock beat. Joey got up and moved to the other side of the table to sit next to him. Her arm went around his shoulders and her hand immediately went to his head, running her hand over his hair. "I love it," she murmured in his ear.
He chuckled darkly. "You do, huh?"
"It's so soft. I love the way it feels."
"Even with all the salt in it?" he grinned.
"Even with the salt." She kept running her fingers over his head before pulling gently on his earlobe. "It'll be even softer when you wash it."
Turning his face toward hers, their lips were only inches apart. "Kiss me."
Her eyes widened. "In the middle of the restaurant?"
"We're not in the middle," he said, smirking. "We're way over here by the windows."
"I really don't want to be one of those couples who make everyone around them gag, Pacey."
"No one's even looking at us, Jo."
"They will if we start kissing in front of them," she snarked.
Lowering his gaze to her mouth, he moved in slowly, close enough to feel her breath on his face. She didn't pull back, emboldening him. "Kiss me," he whispered.
Joey closed the distance between them and brushed a featherlight kiss on his lips before pulling away, smiling at him. He made to kiss her back, but then the sound of someone clearing their throat turned their attention away from each other. A clean-cut man stood in front of their table, dressed in khakis and a light blue short-sleeved button-down shirt. He appeared to be in his late forties, slender, with brown hair and a serious gaze.
"Are you Pacey Witter?"
"Um…" Huh?
"You're the new guy at Danny's Island Hideaway?"
He nodded, feeling uneasy. "Yeah. Why?"
The man smiled. He had a confident air about him, as though he was someone important and he knew just how important he was. "Well, there's a gentleman over at the bar who said he and his fishing buddies brought their catch into the Hideaway on Fourth of July and that you cooked them the best Skipjack tuna steaks they've ever had."
"That was nice of him to say…" He still wasn't sure why this man was talking to him. Joey turned and squeezed his arm, giving him a pleased smile. They briefly glanced over at the bar where a couple men were nodding at them and raising pints of beer in their direction.
"Yes, well, I just thought a chef deserved to hear his compliments," the man stated matter-of-factly, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I know how important that is."
He swallowed, still baffled by this whole exchange. "Well, thank you... but I'm not really a chef, though."
The man smiled again, his eyes glinting knowingly. "All chefs start out saying, 'I'm not really a chef.'" He turned to Joey and gave her a polite nod. "Sorry for interrupting. Have a nice night and enjoy your meal."
They watched him walk away with puzzled brows. He didn't re-approach them and soon there wasn't any sight of him inside the restaurant. When their food came to the table, the delicious aroma filling their nostrils, all thoughts of the man left their heads.
They stepped back out onto Duval Street just as the sun was setting. Tourists still packed the street, pedestrians moving in every direction. "Back to the boat?" he questioned Joey. "You said you wanted to celebrate our one-month anniversary with a night in, right?"
She felt warmth rise inside her, and her cheeks felt flushed. "Um… yeah, I do want a night in, but let's walk around a little first."
He smiled. "Sure."
Joey took his hand, entwining their fingers, and then began walking them in a purposeful direction up Duval towards Fleming Street. It was only an eight-minute walk to their destination. She'd been positively burning with anticipation for the past week, and now that the time had arrived to reveal her surprise, she felt so giddy with nerves she had to keep telling herself to calm down. The further they walked, the closer they got, the faster her heart raced.
At first, he thought she'd just wanted a leisurely stroll, but he could feel her tension beside him. Something was on her mind. Either she was intentionally putting off their return to the boat, for some reason, or she had other ideas. He was at a loss as to what those could be. Looking over at her, he noticed the overstuffed beach bag she was still carrying. "Let me carry the bag, Jo. You've been lugging that thing around all day."
"It's not heavy, Pace."
Rolling his eyes, he let go of her hand and stepped over to take the bag from her. "I've got it."
She smiled as he slung the bag over his shoulder, affection for him filling her heart.
When they reached Fleming Street, she turned right onto it and continued walking. His suspicions were growing. "Uh, Joey… where are we going?"
Her stomach tightened. "What? We're just checking out the town, Pacey. This isn't anything new."
True enough. They'd done their fair share of aimless wandering around the historic district. She wasn't walking as if in a hurry, yet there was an air of determination about her, like there was a specific point to this particular sojourn. "But you said you wanted a night in, and we're not even heading in the direction of the marina. We're actually moving further from it."
He was right, and she didn't know how to keep up the charade in the face of it. May as well start dropping hints. They were so close now, it didn't matter. "Maybe there's something I want to show you," she said coyly.
His eyes narrowed—suspicions confirmed. "And where is this something?"
Joey fought to keep from grinning. "On Margaret Street."
He had no idea what the hell was on Margaret Street. "And?"
"Didn't you say earlier today that you're mine to do with as I please tonight?" Her brow arched.
"Yes, I did. Yes, I did, and you know what? I'm along for the ride. So, I'll just stop asking questions now."
She smiled brightly, gave him a kiss on the cheek as he threw his free arm around her shoulders, and took his hand in hers. He was intrigued. She was clearly up to something. Four blocks up Fleming from Duval, they reached Margaret Street. Joey turned left and motioned to him that they needed to cross the street to the other side. His gaze fell on a large colonial-style guesthouse with wrap-around porches, a white picket fence, and a white sign hanging out front with The Cabana Inn painted in bright blue letters. She'd planned this, he suddenly realized.
Joey stopped at the gate in the picket fence next to the sign, her heart pounding and her stomach fluttering. "Happy Anniversary. My gift to you… to us."
He didn't know what to think, or what this meant. He was speechless. "And the gift is…?"
"Soft mattresses and hot running water."
He laughed. "I thought you said you wanted a night in."
Grinning, she opened the gate in the fence. "And that's what we're getting: a night in at the Inn."
"How much does a room here cost, Jo?"
"That's not important," she said evasively. "If I want to spend my first paycheck courtesy of Danny's Island Hideaway on something special, I will."
He shook his head, dumbfounded. "But I didn't give you anything."
Joey threw him a look and stepped away from the gate, moving closer to him until her arms were sliding around his waist. "You gave me a romantic summer cruise, Pacey—a trip of a lifetime that I'll never forget as long as I live." She smiled up at him. "And you made my seashell ring," she added, throwing up her left hand and showing it off.
Letting out a breathy laugh, he kissed her on her forehead. Then he nodded up at the guesthouse. "Okay. Well, you lead the way."
Once they'd walked down the concrete path and inside the house, Joey checked in and they were given two keys to a guestroom on the second floor. They climbed the stairs and he followed her inside the room, which was large and spacious. There were two queen-sized beds and a flat-screen TV was on the wall opposite. The private bathroom had a shower and double sinks. The window was open and a ceiling fan whirred above them, dispersing the ocean breeze.
"Nice," he said appreciatively, and smiled at Joey.
She dropped the beach bag down on one of the beds. "You can use the shower first. I packed you clean clothes." She pulled out his pajama bottoms and one of his gray tank tops.
He gazed at her, watching her take her little pajama shorts with the moon and stars pattern and the matching navy blue tank top out of the bag. He'd told her last week that those were his favorite. Her cheeks reddened under his gaze and she bit her lower lip. "Hurry up and take a shower, Pacey, so I can, too," she said, tossing him his clothes along with his toothbrush and toothpaste she'd pulled from the bag.
Grinning, he disappeared inside the bathroom.
A little while later, after they'd both showered and dressed into their pajamas, he took Moby Dick out of the beach bag. "Let's cuddle up and read," he said. "Just two chapters and we're done."
"We'll have to get a new book," she replied.
He got on the bed he'd claimed for his own, giving her the one nearest the bathroom, sat up on top of the covers, and leaned back against the pillows. Then Joey climbed up and sat down on the bed beside him. "You go first," he told her, handing her the book.
She began to read. Although when Joey had first suggested they read to each other from the books on her summer reading list, it just sounded like homework to him, but he had to admit that membership in their little reading club had its privileges. He got to hear Joey's sweet, sexy voice reading page after page, the excitement in her voice when she got to momentous events in the story… not to mention her sarcastic sidebars.
"Final chapter," he said, turning the page.
"You read it, Pacey."
"The whole chapter?"
She nodded, running her arm behind him, laying her head on his shoulder, and again putting her fingers in his hair. The entire time he read the last chapter, her hand never left his head. He loved the feel of her hands in his hair, the intimacy of it, but perhaps mostly because he realized she liked it. And he wanted to give her whatever she wanted.
"The end," he said with a sigh. "I'll admit the story is a little dated, but no less classic. I think I identify with Ishmael a little bit."
"Yeah?" Joey gave him a look of interest.
He nodded, closing the book on his lap. "Yeah. You know, he's something of an outcast, feels a little removed from everybody… and so he went out to sea. I guess I figured I was always gonna be the lonely sailor…" His gaze met hers and held. "Until the day I saw you standing there on the dock, telling me you loved me… that you wanted to come with me on this journey."
She smiled sweetly, her fingers still languidly brushing over his head. She loved the feel of his buzzcut, so soft against her palm.
"Maybe there oughta be a sequel to this book. Ishmael lives happily ever after sailing away with his own true love."
"Pacey, everyone in the book pretty much died."
Laughing, he shrugged. "But not good old Ishmael. He's not exactly a hero… but neither am I."
Emotion rose within her. "You're a hero to some people," she said quietly.
He reached over to caress her face. "I don't know how come I got lucky enough to be with the girl of my dreams… but I'm holding on to every minute of it, Jo."
"I am, too, Pace." She leaned over and kissed him.
He kissed her back sweetly, careful not to turn the kiss into something else. She'd obviously gotten a room with two beds for a reason. Then he placed Moby Dick on his side table and picked up the remote. "You wanna watch some TV?"
Her stomach tightened with nerves, heat rising up inside her. She absentmindedly played with the hem of her pajama shorts. "Uh… yeah, sure."
The television was turned on, but she wasn't paying attention to it. She became fidgety and kept glancing over at Pacey, devouring him with her eyes. Her gaze ran up and down his firm body, lingering on his hips, the pit of her stomach tightening. She'd imagined the evening progressing somewhat differently. She'd figured the sexual tension of sharing a bedroom would have built to the point where they just naturally fell upon each other.
Joey glanced at the alarm clock; it was past eleven o'clock. She retreated to the bathroom. She stared at herself in the mirror, adjusted the shelf bra inside her tank, ran her fingers through her now-dry hair. She couldn't stop her rising dismay. Maybe they should've talked about this instead of her springing it on him as a surprise. Had she made a mistake when she'd just assumed they would progress things a little further tonight? Had he not even considered the possibility? Pacey seemed as relaxed as she was jumpy. Each brush of his bare arm against hers had sent her hormones spiraling higher.
She returned to the bed and climbed up beside him. He felt her eyes on him and turned his head. The way she was looking at him—the butterflies came to life inside. His mouth went dry and he swallowed. They stared at each other for a long, silent moment. She knew he wanted her, but she was still feeling vulnerable and insecure about being the initiator. Hunger and anxiety battled inside her as she waited for him to make a move.
When the tension inside her reached a bursting point, she leaned over and brushed her lips against his. "I don't want to watch TV, Pacey," she murmured against his lips, and took the remote from his left hand. Turning from him, she switched the TV off before leaning across him to set the remote on the stand next to their book.
His body tensed as she'd moved over him. What was happening? She was now sitting on her knees next to him, gazing at him intensely, licking her lips, chest heaving as if with anticipation. He was trying to think but his head was starting to fog. He suddenly felt nervous. "Joey, I…"
Looking at him, trying to judge how okay with this he would be, she found his eyes darker than normal. Her heart beat like mad as lust fogged his blue eyes. And she knew. Pacey didn't just love her, he wanted her. He desired her. He would never reject her. Not now, not ever. She refused to hear whatever he was going to say, to allow words to make her chicken out or re-think her decision. Leaning over, she kissed him again. When their mouths touched, it was like something igniting between them. She felt it all the way down to her toes.
Joey deepened the kiss, and her tongue brushed against his bottom lip. Heat shot through him and his chest rumbled with pleasure. He parted his lips. To his amazement, she darted her tongue inside to lightly play with his. His brain went to mush. He ached to hold her, to pull her flush against him, but knew that would not be a good idea. Maintaining a safe distance between their bodies was necessary to keep his desire under control, something he'd been getting better at.
A spark of fiery hunger shot through her as Pacey took over, completely dominating the kiss, his tongue invading her mouth. His hand slid back and cupped her head in that way she loved. Craved. She clutched his shoulders to steady herself. It was pointless. She was a quaking mess of nerves and untamed energy. Nothing could steady her now. Her center ached and clenched around nothing, growing slick with her wetness. Her body was overheating and her stomach was swirling with incredible sensations she only wanted to chase. So, she straddled his leg and pressed herself against his thigh, reveling in the hot friction that only made her want more.
Joey's mouth was on his, her tongue brushing against his, her hands were in his hair, and his mind was a blissful fog of nothing as all thought had flown out the window. Then through that fog his brain registered her sitting on his thigh. He groaned and his hands went to cup her ass. His palms squeezed her pajama-covered flesh, reveling the feel of her. His body tightened and his eyes snapped open. No, no, no, no. He'd gone too far.
His hands immediately moved to her waist and he broke their kiss, gasping for breath as he gently pushed her away from him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… I wasn't…" He heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry, Jo. We can stop. We should stop."
She shook her head. "It's okay. Really."
Joey plied his hands from her waist and pulled them behind her. Their eyes locked as her ass once again filled his hands. His heart hammered beneath his ribs. He almost couldn't believe it. She nodded her consent and her mouth reclaimed his in a passionate kiss. Soon she was rubbing up and down on his leg, making those purring sounds at the back of her throat while he kissed her, and he felt her damp heat through the thin cotton of his pajama bottoms. He groaned. His body then reacted before he could prevent it and he was rock hard in seconds. He stiffened abruptly and pushed her off his leg.
"Did I do something wrong?" Joey asked, breathing heavily, her heart pounding. Self-consciousness began to worm its way into the back of her mind.
He shook his head reassuringly. "No, no, no. Jo, you didn't do anything wrong. This is… I mean, you're amazing…" He gasped for breath. "I'm just, uh… I'm…" He glanced down at his lap.
She watched his cheeks redden with embarrassment and then followed his gaze downwards to his crotch. Her eyes widened at the size of his thick hardness. His pajama bottoms left little to the imagination. She found she didn't feel scared of it, or anything that was happening, and only wanted it, wanted this. She suddenly felt hot all over, like her skin was burning, and she raised her eyes to stare at him.
"I'm sorry." He couldn't meet her gaze. "I'm really sorry."
"Pacey, stop apologizing or you'll ruin the mood."
He let out a breathless laugh, still unable to look her in the eye. "I should've stopped it sooner, Jo."
"That's okay." She licked her lips, her body clenching.
"Well, don't worry, it'll go away in a minute… or five. We should probably turn the TV back on, huh?"
Joey started to crawl back towards him. "No, Pacey. I mean… that's okay."
His eyes went wide as she moved over him and he groaned when she settled down to straddle his legs, pressing her lips to his as her hands slid into his hair, brushing her tongue against his, moaning into his mouth. He pulled back to stare at her in shock. Lust filled her brown eyes. She took his breath away.
"There's a particular teenage rite of passage I'd like to try."
He blinked. Something about that phrase 'teenage rite of passage' jogged his memory. He remembered, and his mouth curved into a smile. Did she mean…? Holy shit. Was he dreaming? He stared at her with wide-eyed wonder. "Is this what we're doing?"
She gave him a sheepish smile and nodded. "Well, if you want to…"
There was a time when he wouldn't have believed Joey Potter would ever want him this way. How did he get so lucky? Never one to turn down his dream, he kissed her senseless. His hands trembled as he gripped her waist and pulled her closer.
She moved forward and settled down on his lap and… there it was. She felt it. She moved her hips over his hardness and he groaned, the sound making her whole body go up in flames. One of his big hands skimmed down over her backside, digging into her flesh. A blast of heat surged through her, making her nipples tighten and her inner walls clench with need.
Then she leaned in and kissed him passionately. As his tongue danced with hers, she slowly started grinding her hips against him. The feel of his erection rubbing over her covered mound was delicious and she began to grind faster. With the feel of her moving against him, rubbing his hard cock over and over again, heat flowed through his body. He thrust up to meet her movements and she gasped. The inside of his pajama bottoms was already damp with pre-cum, and he prayed he wouldn't come before she did.
Sparks of pleasure fired through her body. It didn't matter that his pants and her shorts were in the way. The friction against her swollen bundle of nerves was mounting each time he rolled his hips, rubbing harder and harder against her. Her body grew taut all over and her nipples ached. She needed… she needed… something. She didn't know what. "Pacey," she breathed desperately.
"What, Jo?"
She shook her head at a loss. "…Touch me." Then she grabbed his hand and held it to her breast.
His heavy-lidded eyes widened. It had been so long since he'd held a woman like this, and he'd wanted to touch Joey for longer than he could remember. He palmed her breast through her tank top, ran his thumb over her hardened nipple, and breathed a sigh into her mouth. She jerked her hips over him at the fierce dart of pleasure that shot threw her. It seemed like every muscle in her body had coiled tight. She was on the brink of something wonderful—it was so close... It hovered there, just out of reach.
She frantically drove her hips over his. "Pacey," she whimpered. "Pacey. PaceyPaceyPaceyPaceyPacey…"
He switched breasts, groaning in pleasure as he squeezed her in his palm. She felt so good. "Come for me, baby," he said in a husky voice she'd never heard before. "Come on my cock. Let me see how good I make you feel." He pinched her nipple in a rhythm that matched her pounding heartbeat, hard but not too hard, and just right.
Joey wasn't sure if it was his touch, his filthy words, or the fact he'd called her baby for the first time that sent her over the edge, but as his covered erection continued stimulating her clit, she let free what had been building inside her. The tension finally burst. The orgasm swept through her, the tingles reaching all her nerve endings. Her mind flooded with pleasure and moans escaped her throat. As her climax built, her thighs tightened around him.
She buried her face against Pacey's neck as it crested higher. His hands caressed up and down her back as he held her through her release. As she came down from her high, she inwardly cringed even as she inhaled his spicy scent that she loved so much.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling embarrassed. She'd basically jumped his bones and then came against him like a cat in heat. She could feel her face flush and she knew she must be crimson.
"What the hell for?" he growled. "Don't apologize, Potter. You'll ruin the mood."
She grinned against his neck, and started to laugh. She felt him shift beneath her. He was still hard. She began rocking her hips over his again, giving him the friction he needed. Then she trailed kisses along his jaw and down his neck. She heard his panted breath speed up and she smiled.
"Oh, my God…" He couldn't take anymore. He was going to explode. Then she licked and sucked his neck while he gripped her hip, grinding her over his hard cock. Sparks of pleasure shot out from his groin, down his legs and up his spine. He lost it. "Fuck, Joey…" he said with gritted teeth. His body tightened in release and he came with a guttural moan, a haze of ecstasy filling his mind.
"Oh, baby, baby, baby," he chanted into her neck, his body shuddering, the hand over her breast pulsating. An indescribable sensation welled up inside her, fierce and emotional. She felt powerful and sexy, knowing she could make Pacey feel this way, and decided this might be her new favorite activity. The way he looked at her. The sounds he made. Calling her baby, something she never expected to want or even like. God, she loved making him come.
They held each other for some time—not speaking, not even looking at one another—just wrapped around each other, holding one another close as their breathing returned to normal. "I'm a sticky mess," he muttered. "I guess I'll need another shower." Joey then began to giggle, and her laughter was infectious.
It wasn't long before she slid off the mattress and reached for the beach bag over on her bed. He sat and watched her pull out another clean pair of his pajama bottoms. He stared, amazed. She really had planned all this. All of it. Even the make out session with the frantic dry humping. Well, not so dry, actually…
"You're incredible, Potter. Absolutely incredible."
She walked back over to him, carrying the fresh pajamas. "Happy Anniversary, even though it's only one month."
He smirked. "One-month anniversaries are officially now my favorite."
Laughing, she leaned over and kissed him.
A little while later, they each got into their beds and lay down facing each other. Joey suddenly felt ridiculous. Why did they need separate beds? She'd rather be over there with Pacey. As if he'd read her mind, or the expression on her face, he smiled and lifted the covers, silently inviting her over. Fighting a grin, she quickly slipped out of her bed and moved over to join him, sliding in beside him. She turned on her side and he spooned her, his arms going around her protectively.
"It was the haircut, wasn't it?" he teased, his lips close to her ear. "You just couldn't keep your hands off me. Admit it, Potter. It was the hair."
She giggled.
"I knew it. Remind me tomorrow to stop by the barbershop and give that guy another tip."
She kept laughing. "I love you, Pacey," she sighed.
"I love you, too."
His hand slid up the mattress to find hers and he held her palm inside his. "Jo?"
"Hmm?"
"Thank you. This is the best anniversary I've ever had."
Her cheeks flushed and she chewed her lip. "You're welcome. This is the best anniversary I've ever had, too."
Pacey was soon asleep. She listened to his slow and steady breathing. Carefully as not to wake him, she turned in his arms. She looked at him, gazing at his face. She sighed and thought to herself that he was the most beautiful man she'd ever known. Her thoughts turned to earlier and she blushed at the memory of the way he'd groped her and the dirty words he'd spoken. He was so gentle most of the time, but apparently there really was a sleeping animal under there, ready to devour her at the slightest sexual provocation.
She was a little blown away by that fact—not to mention excited—but also the fact that if he had just tried to get her to go even further, in the heat of the moment she probably would've. Easily, and without hesitation. That was a little concerning. But maybe the point was Pacey didn't try, even when he could've and other guys would've. He knew without a word that she wasn't ready for more than she was willing to give, and was seemingly content to let her set the pace.
Less than a year ago, she'd bemoaned to him while he laid on her bedroom floor the night Dawson had rejected her that she'd never experienced a particular teenage rite of passage. Her brief romance with Dawson didn't have a whole lot of passion, at least on her end. Not like this. Not even close. She'd lamented to him that night about being the virginal prude and wondered if something was wrong with her, but Pacey had assured her there wasn't.
His words came forward in her mind, sharp and clear. "Joey, it will happen for you," he'd told her. When you're ready, when you decide it's the right time, and when you're with the right person who wants you just as badly as you want him, it'll happen. There's no need for it to happen sooner than that, unless you want it to. The choice is entirely yours, and you're right—it is a big deal."
And she remembered what she'd told Dawson sophomore year while they stood in front of her locker after Abby Morgan's cruel mystery game with the very personal note Pacey had written Andie. She'd told Dawson that sex wasn't about the perfect setting or the perfect timing—it was about the perfect person.
Joey lay there, watching Pacey sleep, watching his chest move as he breathed, watching the peace that was over his face, his mouth curved into a smile even as he slept. She softly caressed his cheek with the backs of her fingers, then gently caressed the outline of his face, studying him carefully, every freckle, every line, every curve. She snuggled against him, his arm going around her, their legs tangling.
"You're my perfect person," she whispered before the lull of sleep pulled her under and her eyes closed.