November 22. On the Wednesday evening before Thanksgiving, Pacey pulled the steaming cherry pie out of the oven and set it on the counter to join the apple and pumpkin pies that had been baked earlier. Removing the oven mits from his hands, he tossed them aside and turned to see his girlfriend and his sister sitting at the table and watching him. He smiled.
"That smells so good," Joey said, her eyes wide.
"We can sample the goods tonight, right, Pace?"
He frowned and shook his head. "No, Gretchen, you cannot. These pies will remain intact until they reach Mom and Dad's tomorrow."
"I still can't get over the look on Mom's face when you said you'd do the dessert," his sister replied.
"What did she say?" Joey asked.
Pacey rolled his eyes. "The things you miss when you skip out on Sunday dinner, Jo."
She shot him a pointed look. "If only I could skip out on more of them," she muttered, before turning to Gretchen. "Well, what did your mom say?"
"It was the indulgent look of a parent when their five-year-old tells them they're going to cook them a big breakfast. 'Sure thing, sweetie.'" Gretchen scoffed. Then she smiled. "So, are you coming over to witness the fiasco that is the Witter Family Thanksgiving?"
"Uh, no," Joey replied. "I figure I should spend the day with my family."
"So, will Bodie be cooking the turkey?" she asked.
Joey shook her head. She hesitated to answer, glancing at Pacey nervously. "We're actually all going over to the Leery's."
He stared. This was news to him. "Since when?"
She heaved a sigh. "Since last night, apparently. Gail invited us to come to their house, and Bessie and Bodie accepted the invitation. Jen and Mrs. Ryan are invited, and Jack and his dad, too. I'm sorry they didn't invite you. I'm sure they would've if… well, you know, if things were different."
Pacey shared a look with his sister, who gave him a sympathetic frown. "Well, I guess that's for the best. It would've been nice if my mom had invited your family over, but that honestly wouldn't have gone well by any means. You really don't want to subject yourselves to the drunken Irish-Catholic rants that usually pepper any Witter holiday festivity. I can only imagine the passive-aggressive crap that would've come out of my parents' mouths had you guys been sitting at the table. I'm sure your sister and Bodie would've vowed never to set foot in our house again."
"You mean because they're living in sin and have a mixed child out of wedlock?" She scowled.
The phone suddenly rang and Gretchen stood up with a groan. "You're right, Joey. They're ignorant jerks. At least Thanksgiving is only once a year, thank goodness." On the third ring, she answered the phone.
Pacey walked over to his girlfriend and bent over to wrap his arms around her. "I'll miss you tomorrow, if it's any consolation. Especially since the only friend I'll have there is Gretchen."
"Well, what about Doug?" she replied.
"He'll be around my dad, so you can expect he'll be a jerk, too. Gotta keep up appearances, you know. Carrie is fine to be around, but she's too wrapped up in her own life's problems to pay much attention to her teenage brother."
"Isn't your sister Amy coming up from North Carolina?"
Sighing, he shook his head. "Amy and her husband and kids will be coming up for Christmas and New Year's. They're spending Thanksgiving with my brother-in-law's family. That's one good thing, I have to say. This year's Thanksgiving will be devoid of my two brothers-in-law. Hallelujah."
Joey reached up behind him and ran her hand through his soft hair. "I take it Carrie and her husband still have no plans to reconcile?"
"Nope. The divorce is still going through as planned. Good riddance. The guy's a prick. I feel bad for my nieces, though. They ask about him a lot, and he never sees them. Never calls. What an ass. Anyway, the Thanksgiving table will more tolerable without him there. Now, if only we could have dinner without my mom and dad…"
"You know," she said, turning to face him. "We have to be at the Leery's by two o'clock, and you said your mom was serving dinner at four, right?"
"Yep."
"What if I hung out with my family at the Leery's for a couple hours, and then went to your house to be with you? Would that help?"
His heart swelled with both affection and relief. "Really, Jo? You'd do that?"
She reached up and caressed his cheek. "You're supposed to spend the holidays with the people who love you, and there's nobody who loves you more than I do, Pacey." His blue eyes twinkled as he smiled down at her. "And helping Gretchen be the emotional buffer between you and your parents is the least I can do."
"I'm pretty sure an emotional buffer is needed between my parents and just about everybody," Gretchen remarked grimly.
The next day dawned bright and sunny, with predictions for warmer-than-usual temperatures rising above fifty degrees by the mid-afternoon. Thanksgiving had arrived, and it proved to be just as much a disaster as Pacey expected. The holiday gave his father a good excuse to drink more than usual, loosening whatever minimal restraint he might've had when it came to throwing insults and snide remarks at his children. Golden-boy Doug was mercifully spared from the continuous onslaught, most of the time, and decided to be a good sport and laugh along. Pacey grew more beleaguered by the hour.
The doorbell rang shortly before four o'clock, and with an exasperated huff, he stood up from the couch and made his way to the front door. He opened it to find his smiling girlfriend holding a bouquet. His brows furrowed as he gazed at the flowers in her hand.
"For your mother," she explained with a shrug. "One should never go anywhere emptyhanded. Also, I'm desperate for your mom not to call me Joanna for once."
Although he was thankful for Joey's prompt arrival, he wasn't sure whether his parents' behavior would improve or worsen with her presence. The way their occasional Sunday family dinners had gone, Pacey didn't think the outlook was good. Moving aside, he held the door open while she walked through, giving him a quick kiss as she stepped inside the house. "Thanks for coming," he murmured, shutting the door behind her.
She smiled and kissed him again.
"Uh, hey, listen…" he whispered conspiratorially. "Doug let it slip to my parents that I'd applied to some colleges, so if my parents mention this to you—and I'm sure they will—just don't say anything, okay?"
"What do you mean? If they already know…" Her face contorted with confusion.
"I mean, specifics. Don't say anything about which schools I applied to or…" He sighed. "Just don't say anything about culinary programs. Please, Jo."
She looked at his pleading gaze and nodded. "Okay, I won't. I promise." She gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.
Pacey watched her head towards the kitchen. He soon overheard Gretchen and Carrie's warm greetings and then his mother's honeyed voice rang out. "Oh, honey, these flowers are beautiful! This was very sweet of you, Joanna."
"Her name's Joey, Ma," he called out.
"That's what I said, Pacey," his mother snapped in response.
Shaking his head and grinding his teeth, he walked with heavy feet to join them in the kitchen.
At four o'clock, everyone sat down to Thanksgiving dinner.
Two of his favorite people, and most of his favorite foods, were gathered together under one roof. It should've been a joyful day, and Pacey kept reminding himself that he had a lot to be thankful for, but it seemed to him that his parents were doing the most to make it a miserable occasion. His mother had truly put on a feast. They all ate and ate, and talked and talked. His three nieces sang Thanksgiving songs and Christmas songs and random silly songs, at times some of the older ones gleefully joining in, especially Doug.
On the surface, the Witter dining table might've appeared to be like most Thanksgiving tables around the country. Yet underneath, a simmering tension was brewing as his father grew more and more inebriated, his offhand remarks and snide comments becoming increasingly cruel. His mother made halfhearted attempts to diffuse it. Desperate to escape the table even for a minute, he grabbed Joey by the hand and retreated to the kitchen where they were to fetch the pies for dessert. Gretchen soon joined them, carrying the dirty dinner plates and silverware.
"You doing okay there, Pace?" his sister asked, her tone full of concern, setting the dishes down in the sink.
"I think if he grinds his teeth any harder, his jaw is going to crack," Joey quipped.
Ignoring them, Pacey grabbed the cherry pie from the counter. "The sooner we serve dessert, the sooner we can get the hell out of here. Come on."
They returned to the dining table with the three pies he'd baked the day before and sat down while his mother started slicing them up and dishing them out. From the corner of his eye, Pacey caught his father's familiar, hostile glazed look flicker at him for a moment before settling on Joey.
"I hear you've applied to some very good schools, Joey," Mr. Witter said.
"Oh, yeah, well…" She felt her cheeks turn red as she suddenly became the center of attention, everyone's eyes on her around the table. "I don't know if I'll actually get in. I'm kind of in the waiting game now."
"You haven't heard back from anywhere?" Gretchen asked.
Joey shook her head. "Well, I heard back from one. Sort of. I've apparently made the short list of new applicants to Worthington, and I've been invited to some fancy alumni party they're having in a few weeks. Members of the Admissions Committee will be there."
"Wow. Worthington." Mrs. Witter looked mildly impressed. "I'm sure you have a promising future ahead of you. Good for you, Joanne."
Pacey and Joey exchanged a look.
"Are you planning on taking my son to this fancy college party? I'm sure he'll fit right in." John Witter laughed.
Joey gave him a tight smile. "I'm not about to walk into the lion's den by myself, Mr. Witter. I wouldn't go without him."
The sheriff grinned at his wife. "I can see it now. Joey Potter, walking around some grand ballroom or something of the sort, schmoozing with the big, important people, everyone talking about their applications to Worthington… and Harvard and Stanford, and then she's introducing them all to her boyfriend, who, with any luck, just might get his G.E.D. It'll be a proud moment for her, I'm sure." He laughed again.
Pacey's shoulders slumped. His guts twisted into a knot. How did his father know exactly what to say, know exactly which buttons to push, to throw his worst fears and troubled thoughts in his face?
"Oh, John." Mrs. Witter joined in her husband's laughter. "Let the kids have their fun. A fancy party doesn't happen every day."
"I doubt Pacey will see much more of them."
Joey's eyes narrowed and she glared at Pacey's dad.
"So, Miss Potter," John Witter began again after swallowing a bite of pumpkin pie. "I'm guessing you're the one I have to thank for putting ideas of college in my son's head."
"Oh, Mr. Witter, I'm happy that Pacey wants to go to college, but I don't think I can take all the credit." She tried to smile at the sheriff, and then shot a quick concerned glance at her boyfriend.
"Well, I have to blame someone 'cause Pacey's big dreams means I'm gonna have to finance another drop out's half-assed education."
Pacey's eyes locked with his sister's across the table, and he watched her mouth curve into a hard frown. "I didn't drop out, Dad," Gretchen said.
"Oh, really? 'Cause I didn't realize working as a bar maid in a fish restaurant qualified as a university education. Then again, I'm just an uneducated police officer, putting his life on the line every day for the people of this town. What do I know?"
Pacey and Gretchen glared at him. Joey didn't like where the conversation was heading, the growing hostility at the table. "Mr. Witter, I really don't think Pacey will be dropping out. He's done very well this semester so far. I think he'll do great in college. Just you wait."
"I appreciate the youthful optimism, Joey. My prediction: If he doesn't drop out, he'll flunk out. College is a waste of his time and my money."
While Pacey had a number of rebuttals to this, especially on the money front, he had found that it was best to keep his head down and his mouth shut and let his father's tirades wash over him. It was no doubt his sister Carrie had also come to this same conclusion, paying no mind to the conversation at hand and giving all her attention to her kids, avoiding anymore ire thrown her way from her father.
Then his mom finally spoke up. "Oh, honey. Just because Pacey flunked a class or two last year doesn't mean he's going to flunk out in college. Right, sweetie?" She turned a smile in his direction. He grimaced.
"He failed three classes, Susan. Three. Do you think college is easier than high school?" John Witter scoffed.
"Well, I have faith in him, and no matter how long I have to wait, I know that one day my faith will pay off." Pacey watched his mother turn another smile in his direction and reach out to pat his hand.
"Will your faith also pay for him to go to a college he'll eventually flunk out of?" his dad grumbled. "It's money down the drain."
"Oh, John!" His mom laughed and shook her head.
"I'm just saying Pacey should set his sights on something he can actually accomplish, like refrigeration and repair. We always knew Gretchen was college material."
His mom turned a beaming, prideful look at his sister. "Oh, yeah."
"But Pacey… You remember when he was a kid and he wanted to be a veterinarian when he grew up? And you always said…"
His mother smiled at the memory. "I always said, 'dog groomer, honey. Dog groomer.'"
"Exactly. Somebody has to be the dog groomer. Don't set your sights too high, son. That way you won't be disappointed."
As Joey noticed her boyfriend's shoulders slump further, anger bubbled in her gut. She felt horrified at the lack of support, or even basic kindness. How could anyone treat their child this way? Doug continued to chuckle with amusement and she wanted to throw her pie at him. "Pacey's going to do great things with his life, Mr. Witter. You'll see."
"Yes, he will," Gretchen agreed. "He'll show all of us."
"Sure thing, girls," John Witter replied with an indulgent smile.
"Look, Mr. Witter—"
Pacey grabbed her hand and shook his head, silently telling her to stop. With a resigned sigh, she returned to her slice of apple pie. She didn't know why Pacey wouldn't just tell his family about the culinary programs he'd applied to. Wouldn't they be proud of him becoming a chef? Why should he hide his aspirations and his talents? He should shove them in their face. Fight back.
"I have to admit, Pacey, this is a damn fine pie," John Witter complimented, slicing off another bite with the side of his fork. Everyone around the table readily agreed.
His brows arched as he threw a surprised yet cautious look at his father. Genuine praise seemed unlikely.
"Did you wear a frilly apron around the kitchen while you baked it?" His father let out a large guffaw of laughter. Doug managed a chuckle in response, and then frowned at his plate. "Probably the same one you wear around the Potter's kitchen."
"Oh, stop it, John," Mrs. Witter said, laughing. "If Pacey enjoys that kind of work, what's the harm?"
"Plenty. While I'm thankful Bessie Potter offered our son a job and he's earning a paycheck every week, where's the pride in kitchen work? Not for a real man, surely. The kitchen is the woman's domain. People in this community expect something from us. He needs a job befitting the family name. Something people can take pride in." He heaved an exasperated sigh. "At least I have Doug. You would never let me down, would you, son? Now you just need to settle down with a good woman and give me some more grandchildren."
Pacey exchanged a look with his older brother, who was now frowning. "Sure thing, Pop," Doug said, probably trying to sound enthusiastic but failing miserably.
In that moment, Pacey wasn't sure who he felt sorrier for, himself or Doug. He scowled in his father's direction.
"Bodie is a chef," Joey spoke up, her face red with barely-concealed rage. "Are you saying he's not a real man, Mr. Witter?"
"Well… that's different. That's fine enough work for… someone like him."
Joey's eyes bugged. The rage bubbling in her gut was quickly becoming a flood. "Someone… like him?"
Mrs. Witter finally looked nervous. "Now, John, remember this is Thanksgiving dinner. We're supposed to be positive and thankful for our blessings. Right, honey? Let's go around the table and say what we're thankful for."
"Susan, all I'm saying is that the boy needs to man up already." The sheriff sharply pointed his finger in Pacey's direction. "You know, get serious about himself and be realistic about his future. He's almost eighteen, for Christ's sake. If he's going to have any chance at making ends meet, he shouldn't be wasting his time on frivolous pursuits."
Pacey was trying to shut his ears, drown out his parents' voices and think about something else. He briefly glanced at Gretchen, who was staring at him, concern and sympathy etched across her face. As his parents continued to talk about him as if he wasn't even in the room, underneath the table Joey reached for his hand. Entwining their fingers, she squeezed hard and pulled him with her as she stood up. As he got to his feet, he saw the looks of surprise on his family members' faces.
"Thank you for inviting me to dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Witter," Joey said politely. "I appreciate the invitation. The meal was delicious. I do need to be getting home now. I promised Bessie that me and Pacey would spend the evening at home with her and Alexander. Happy Thanksgiving."
She walked them quickly to the front door and they grabbed their coats from the hook on their way out.
Not long after, Pacey was in the passenger seat of Joey's truck, staring out his window while she drove. The sun had already set, and he could see the stars in the sky over the creek. Could anything salvage the holiday? The day had been nothing but miserable from start to finish. "I miss my boat," he murmured in the darkened cab, finally breaking the silence.
"I know, Pace," Joey sighed. "Me too."
"I miss being on the water. I miss our hammocks. Being alone. Just the two of us, away from everything and everyone, as if we were the only two people in the world."
Instead of heading in the direction of the beach house, Joey made a turn and started heading for the B&B. After a minute, Pacey noticed. "Oh, so you were serious about us hanging out with Bessie tonight? I thought that was just an excuse to get the hell away from my parents."
She glanced over at him, smirking. "It was. I just want to stop at home and get a couple things I forgot to grab earlier."
"Is this a stopover at the birth control warehouse, by any chance? I could use some cheering up," Pacey cracked.
Joey laughed, shaking her head. "Sorry, not tonight."
"Does this have anything to do with the lighter fluid and small stack of wood that has suddenly appeared in the back of the truck?" he asked. There was also a blue cooler back there. That stuff hadn't been there yesterday.
"Maybe," she hedged.
Pacey remained in the truck while his girlfriend ran inside her house. From the looks of the empty driveway, it seemed as though Bessie and Bodie hadn't returned home from the Leery's yet. Joey reappeared minutes later carrying a rolled up sleeping bag under her arm and her backpack. His brows furrowed in wonder as he watched her toss the items into the truck bed before she got back behind the wheel.
"Potter, you look like the cat the ate the canary. What gives? What's with the stuff in the back?"
"You'll see. Just be patient, Pace."
Once they'd left the creek behind, and it became obvious she wasn't heading for his house, having chosen to drive in the opposite direction, he became even more curious. Then he watched her make a left turn. "Are we heading to the ocean, Jo?"
"You've guessed correctly." She threw one of her brilliant smiles at him.
Forest Beach was one of the small beaches just off Route 28 near the Capeside town limits. It was public, but had the feel of a private beach. It could get quite busy in the summer and there wasn't a whole lot of parking space; you'd only get a decent spot if you showed up early enough. But on a cool November evening, it was completely deserted. They drove the truck right out onto the sand and killed the engine. The beach was white in the moonlight. They listened to the rush of water in front of them, its pounding upon the solid shore, force against stillness.
Joey opened the door and walked around the truck. She took Pacey's hand and they lifted the things she'd brought from the truck bed, before walking further down the beach. They came to a stop near the fire pit that was closest to the water. Then she laid out the sleeping bag over the sand. "How about a night under the stars for an early Christmas present before it gets too cold and starts snowing? Just the two of us, all alone, no one else around. I know it's not quite like being on the boat out on the open water, but I thought this was maybe second best."
He smiled, his heart swelling at her thoughtfulness. Then he pursed his lips. "Won't Bessie notice if you don't spend the night under her roof?"
"She definitely will, which is why I left her a note informing her that I decided to go camping for the night."
"Camping?" His brows arched.
She shrugged. "Well, you know, it is, sort of. Minus the tent and the woods."
"Um, Jo, how cold is it supposed to get tonight?"
"I checked the weather forecast, Pacey, and it's only supposed to drop down to forty overnight. It's gonna be another warm day tomorrow."
Joey unzipped her backpack. "There's one of your hoodies in here, in case you get cold and want another layer of clothing, and a pair of sweatpants because I figured you wouldn't want to sleep in your jeans." She turned her back and leaned over to unzip the sleeping bag after Pacey took the sweatpants from her. She listened as his jeans hit the sand behind her and bit her lip as a flush reddened her cheeks.
There was already a bed of coals in the concrete fire pit, and after adding the wood and lighter fluid, they soon had a cheerful fire going. From the cooler, out came two bottles of root beer and all the fixings required to make s'mores. Pacey foraged some sticks from the grassy area lined with trees on the nearby hill while Joey got the graham crackers and chocolate bars ready.
Marshmallows on the end of their sticks, they roasted them over the fire. While Joey frowned as her marshmallow burned and fell off her stick into the fire, she was at least pleased that Pacey didn't laugh too hard. Pacey's technique was pristine. She watched as he didn't let any hot spots develop, and when the marshmallow appeared ready to catch fire, he quickly pulled it back and blew it out. A small plate of graham crackers and broken pieces of chocolate sat between them on the blanket.
Pacey held out his hand. "Cracker."
She passed it to him with a piece of chocolate on it. She reached over with another cracker half and placed it on top of the marshmallow, together holding it in place until she was able to maneuver her fingers to hold it like a sandwich as he pulled the stick out. The glide of his fingers against hers set heat coursing through her system. "Thanks," she said, taking the sweet treat. "It's a pleasure to watch a master at work."
"I've had lots of practice over the years." Pacey smiled and then placed another marshmallow onto the stick for himself. He watched Joey bite into her s'more and the look on her face wasn't that far off from when she orgasmed, and he'd seen that often enough in the past few months. He shifted in his seat on the blanket as he felt his cock starting to fill. He turned back to the fire and tried to focus on roasting his own marshmallow.
Sometimes he still couldn't quite believe that Joey Potter was his girl. That she actually loved him. That they knew each other in this way. Intimately. He blew out a breath. It was too good, too perfect, to last. He didn't have that kind of luck. The other shoe was bound to drop at some point sooner or later. Maybe at the fancy college party, when she'll finally realize that she's way out of his league. That in the long run, there realistically wasn't any place for him in her life. She was bound to meet someone who fit better, who was at least in her league's orbit, who perhaps was one of those other promising applicants to Worthington, or Harvard or Yale. He didn't fit, and he never would. The future tide was just waiting to wash him away.
Joey swatted his arm.
"What?"
She pointed at the fire. "You're burning."
He was indeed. The marshmallow was a glorious briquette of carbonized sugar. He really shouldn't read anything allegorical into this. It was a burnt marshmallow, not a sign of the future state of his love life. He just hadn't been paying attention, that's all. "Dammit."
Joey laughed while he scraped off the burnt remains from the stick and skewered a new marshmallow. This one roasted to perfection. He bit into his s'more. The graham cracker, chocolate, and marshmallow blended perfectly on his tongue. It wasn't something he had often, and he savored the flavors. It seemed to be the unexpected good ending to an unbelievably shitty day.
"So, how was dinner at the Leery's?" he asked.
"Traditional, and Dawson was, you know… polite as usual." She scowled. "At least Jen and Jack were there." She paused, gazing into the fire. "I wish you'd been there."
"Now, that wouldn't have been awkward," he quipped.
Her irritation from earlier that afternoon was now rising to the surface. "He treats me like I'm some kind of minor acquaintance. He's polite and respectful and friendly, but it's not the same. Not even close. It's like how he'd treat the receptionist at the dentist's office he's been going to since he was a kid. When he looks at me, it's like he's looking right through me at the wall behind me."
"I'm sorry, Jo. Give him some time."
"But it's been months, Pacey!" The frustration simmered down until all she felt was a lingering sadness. "It's like he doesn't care about me at all. I just want my friend back," she murmured.
"I know." Pacey wrapped his arm around her and she leaned her head against his shoulder, in that spot made just for her. They sat in comfortable silence for some time, holding each other and watching the blazing fire.
After a while, the fire burned down to some smoldering embers. Pacey added two more logs to the fire and stoked it to a small blaze before throwing on the hoodie his girlfriend had brought and sliding into the sleeping bag.
"I hope you don't mind sleeping on the ground," she said while slipping out of her jeans and pulling on her own pair of sweats. "At least the fire will keep us warm enough."
He shrugged and then propped himself up on his elbow. "Sleeping on the sand is no big deal. I used to go camping all the time with Dawson, if you remember, and that's much harder. You wake up and you've got a rock in your back or a twig up your ass."
"Ah, yes, those infamous camping trips to the Capeside woods that I was never allowed to join in. Sounds like I really missed out."
He stared at her, surprised at the hint of bitterness in her tone. "Did you want to join in? I didn't think camping was your thing."
"Well, it's not. I did feel kind of left out, though. Especially when you'd make it clear each and every time that I wasn't invited."
"Oh, well… that was probably just my Joey Potter Defense Mechanism, you know," he chuckled. "I'd rather show you just how much I didn't want to be in your presence than actually admit how much I really did and face your rejection."
She laughed and then heaved a sigh. "God, we were so stupid, weren't we?"
"We were kids," he shrugged.
Joey threw her hair into a knot and then climbed into the sleeping bag next to Pacey. Then he zipped it up around them, cocooning them inside. "I really do love sleeping in a sleeping bag," she said. "It's the most comfy thing ever. It's got to be the closest thing to being in the womb."
"I can't believe you've never been camping, Potter. I think you'd love it."
"You think so?"
"I know so." He grinned and waggled his eyebrows up and down. "You survived roughing it out on the open sea, didn't you?"
"Yes, I guess I did."
"So, you'd go camping with me if I planned a trip?"
She smiled. "Sure."
Memories from Thanksgiving dinner again attacked him, and he tried pushing them away. "If I up and decided to just go back to Key West, would you come with me?" he said quietly.
Joey stared at him for a moment. She could easily imagine life in Key West with Pacey, as it had frequented her daydreams all summer long. He would want her to be a painter, an artist. He would be a chef, and for weeks at a time they would live purely on love, on hearts and minds he had made into food. They would always have rum and champagne, and they'd live in a white room with high ceilings and gauze curtains that danced in the salty breeze, a white room over Duval Street, a street that spat and glittered and hummed all day and all night. When they walked Duval, they'd nestle into each other and he'd hold her as if she was something he could meld into himself and she'd wrap her arms around his waist as if she could not live without his touch. It would be hot and the air heavy, but despite the oppressive heat, every night their bodies would fall into each other passionately, fitting together like lock and key. Eventually, a little boy with brown curls—the spitting image of Pacey—would be laughing as he ran barefoot through the warm sand. Their accents would never change. They would live like strangers to everyone but themselves.
She turned her head and looked up at the sky. It was a cloudless night, and she could see every star glittering above. Graduation was just six months away.
He said, "So if I left and went back to Key West, you would come?"
"Yes, of course," she said, still gazing up at the star-filled sky, knowing that's what he wanted to hear. "But I know you're not going back there anytime soon." Turning to look at him once more, she gave him a sad smile. "I know you're only talking about running away because of what happened earlier. I'm sorry about dinner, about your parents. They're not perfect, but they're still your family. Maybe if you made a little bit of an effort to connect with them more…"
"It doesn't matter what kind of effort I make, Jo. It's never mattered. No matter what I do, or how hard I try, whether I succeed or fail, it doesn't change how they feel about me. It won't ever change. They hate me."
"I'm sure they don't hate you, Pace—"
"They don't love me." He said it matter-of-factly, as if he was merely stating a simple fact, and not something that had eaten away at his insides and festered since he was a child. As if those four words didn't make him want to weep his heart out.
Joey didn't know how to respond. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, that of course his parents loved him, but there was honestly nothing she'd witnessed from Mr. and Mrs. Witter that told her she was right. Had she ever seen them do anything loving, or even say anything remotely kind, to Pacey? Her brow creased as she frowned. "But I love you."
"I don't know why," he sighed.
"Yes, you do," she said firmly. "I've told you a hundred times, if not more."
"Well, I'm pretty sure I love you more than you love me."
She shook her head. "Not possible, Pacey Witter. Because, you see, no one's ever loved anyone as much as I love you, and speaking as someone who loves you as much as I do, I know you're not going to fail, no matter what anyone else says. They don't know you like I do. There are things in life more important than high school and homework and trigonometry tests, and at all those important things, you've never failed. You're a good friend. You're loving and kind. You're generous beyond generous. You're loyal and trustworthy. You're the best man I know. You just need to believe it yourself."
"I don't know what I'd do without you, Joey. I hope you know how much I need you." He wanted to be hopeful for the future—their future together—but so many unknowns loomed ahead of them, worries and doubts and fears that he couldn't quite chase away completely. They hovered around the edges of his mind, waiting in the wings, a rising tide he would be powerless to stop if they became reality.
"The same as I need you, Pace."
Joey moved in closer to him and touched his face. Her fingers lightly brushed over his skin, which made him feel as if he were on fire. Her lips so close to his. Then her fingers touched his lips and he closed his eyes, trying to regain control of his senses before his body reacted, but before he could gain that control, her lips brushed against his in a feather-light kiss. He cupped her face and dragged her body tight against his. Then her hands ran through his hair and she was kissing him urgently.
The moment she sighed and melted against him he was a lost man.
He was completely lost to her.
Pacey undid the knot in her hair and gently ran his fingers through it. It was as soft as he expected. Like silk. It fanned over her covered shoulder and he couldn't help but brush it away. He rolled over, pressing her into the sand beneath their sleeping bag and laying kisses against her lips, her neck, and lower. He brushed his knuckles down the side of her face and kissed where her pulse raced under her skin.
"You make me feel alive," she whispered. Then he leaned down and brushed another kiss against her lips, light and then urgent. His body was pressed against hers. It made her feel right. She opened her legs to let him settle between her thighs. Joey arched her hips. She wanted him. She craved him.
Pacey kissed her again, his tongue caressing her bottom lip and then pushing past, entwining with hers, showing her just how much he wanted her. His hand slid between them and slipped downward underneath her sweats. Joey cried out sharply when he found the sensitive nub there and began to gently rub it through the soft cotton of her underwear, teasing her. Her breath began to come in small pants.
The general quietness of the deserted beach beyond their sleeping bag let Joey forget any sense of being exposed in public, only the sound of the water rushing onto the shore and the crackling blaze of the fire accompanied the soft noises between them. This time when Pacey's hand slid further and into her panties, he didn't tease, knowing just how to touch her. She met his eyes, held his gaze as she reached for the erection straining against his sweatpants. Her hand slipped inside, fingers sliding along the thick shaft and palm against the swollen head. She enjoyed the heat in his eyes, the way he melted under her touch, this big strong guy weakening in her arms. Her gaze traveled over his long body, down his arm to where his hand disappeared between her thighs.
It was almost too much, but she wanted to see him come undone first, focusing on his breathing and reactions, the way his eyes rolled and his head tilted back as if dizzy and a deep moan sounding in his throat. She pumped him faster and squeezed him tighter until he bucked against her, hot ropes of come spilling over her hand.
With a slow, lazy grin, Pacey reached up with his free hand to hold Joey's head and pull her towards his, kissing her passionately. Soon she was rocking against him. His fingers slipped further, seeking out that spot where their bodies would eventually join and become one. She was tight and wet around his finger, and he slid another in easily. He basked in her pleasure, while he watched her come over and over again underneath his touch. He needed to remember these moments, commit them to memory so that he would never forget for as long as he lived. The color rising in her cheeks. The glaze that slipped into her eyes. The sound of her moans, her gasps pleading for more. The sound of his name on her lips. And damn, the way her lips parted in a silent cry as the pleasure took her under its waves.
They both collapsed in post orgasmic bliss, smothering each other with kisses and cuddles, whispering sweet nothings in low voices. Pacey was soon sound asleep, a faint snore coming from him. Joey gazed at him. He was a good man, with a good heart, a heart that at the moment seemed to be beating in limbo, someplace between hope and heartbreak.
A small frown furrowed his brows as if even sleep couldn't banish the heaviness his heart carried. His long, dark lashes rested against the soft skin beneath his eyes. Joey gently pushed him over until Pacey lay on his side and settled against her. She adjusted the sleeping bag over their shoulders and spooned him, hoping the warmth of her body against his would somehow comfort him.
Within minutes she was asleep. Joey awakened much later, surrounded by warmth and the comfortingly familiar scent of Pacey. At some point in the night they had shifted positions. He now spooned her and his hand caressed up and down her hip as his mouth pressed against her neck. "Good morning," he said quietly.
She stretched cat-like against him. The eastern sky had begun to glow softly with the approach of the sun, and the gray light of dawn filtered across the quiet beach. "Good morning."
"Do we really have to get up and rejoin the real world?" he complained jokingly.
"I'm afraid so, Pace."
Their makeshift campsite was soon packed up and they were on the road, heading for Pacey's house. "Uh, Jo… you weren't really serious about bringing me to that Worthington party, were you? I mean, you were just saying that to get my dad's goat, right?"
From behind the steering wheel, Joey threw him a look as she made a right turn off Main Street and onto Bridge. "Of course, you're coming with me. I wasn't about to go alone. So, don't even think about trying to get out of it."
"You know, you'd be better off taking Jen with you, or Jack. I can't see how my presence will impress anyone or help your prospects. You know what? You should ask Dawson to go with you. The Hollywood-bound wunderkind is sure to impress those people."
"I don't want Dawson to go with me. I want you. It's not about helping my prospects, Pacey, it's about moral support."
"Oh, well, since you put it that way…" He grinned at her and she rolled her eyes.
Shortly after, they arrived at the beach house. The Witter wagon was parked in the driveway and Joey pulled up behind it. She put the truck into park and turned to her boyfriend. "Thanks for the night on the beach," he said. "I honestly thought Thanksgiving was just going to be terrible from beginning to end, but you saved it. And that's what I have to be thankful for: you."
"You're welcome. I'm thankful for you, too." She watched him unbuckle his seatbelt. "So, as you know, there are currently no B&B guests staying with us this weekend. But, uh, Bessie and Bodie decided they're gonna take Alexander over to Martha's Vineyard today to visit Bodie's family. They're staying the night and not coming home until tomorrow," she said in a suggestive tone.
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah, so… I was thinking, you know, when I get off work at the yacht club, if you wanted to come over and we could…"
"And we could ravish each other all night long?"
"Well, I don't know if I would use the word ravish, exactly…" Suddenly she was doubting her brilliant idea. She had been trying really hard to stick to her decision to wait until he turned eighteen to go all the way. It was getting more and more difficult with each passing week. She wanted it to be really special, and a last minute decision on one stolen night of alone time in her bedroom while her sister and Bodie happened to be away wasn't what she'd had in mind for their first time. She didn't quite know how to make it special, but she was still trying to come up with ideas.
With a faux affronted look, Pacey shook his head. "I'm just a piece of meat to you now, Potter, aren't I? I thought we had something real," he cried, opening his door and stepping out, slamming the door behind him dramatically. Then he walked around the truck to the driver's side as she rolled down her window. He leaned inside the cab towards her smiling face and kissed her sweetly on the lips. "Pick me up after work, lover."
An embarrassed flush immediately reddened her cheeks and she scrunched up her face in disgust. Laughing, he started walking away from the truck and towards his front door. "If you ever call me that again, Pacey Witter, I'm breaking up with you," she called out after him. Still laughing, he winked at her before disappearing inside the house. Shaking her head, unable to fight the grin spreading across her face, Joey put the truck into reverse, backed out of the drive, and then drove home.