January 12. On Friday night at the Cape Cod Mall, Joey walked with Jen and Gretchen into the Abercrombie & Fitch store, passing between the glass windows that displayed large black and white posters of nearly nude models. They were soon looking at the selection of jeans. "Do you think my butt would look good in these?" Jen asked, taking a hanger off a rack and holding up a pair.
"Maybe," Joey answered, trying to imagine what she wanted her butt to look like. "You'd probably have to try them on to see how they fit."
Gretchen moved closer. "See this, Jo?" she said, pointing to the waistline. "If the line is slightly curved, it makes your ass look perfectly round."
"I'll keep that mind."
After a while, they approached the counter, and her friends noticed her hands were empty. "Didn't you find anything?" Jen asked.
"I'm still looking around," Joey shrugged. In fact, there were two or three things she'd love to buy, but the prices on the tags kind of shocked her. The prices at Forever 21 and Old Navy had been more to her liking.
When they left the store, Jen glanced at her watch. "We're supposed to meet the guys at the food court in forty-five minutes, in time to grab a quick bite to eat before the movie."
"Antitrust looks really good," Gretchen remarked. "Ryan Phillippe is so hot."
They began walking in that general direction, window shopping along the way. "Oh, so, how was your date last night with Mark?" Joey asked.
"Who's Mark?" Jen said.
"Mark is this guy who went to school with Gretchen. He's been coming into Leery's Fresh Fish almost every day for the past few weeks to see her. He finally asked her out on a date to this fancy restaurant last weekend and they went out again last night. Where did you go after dinner?"
"Far from prying eyes," she replied elusively.
"Did you have fun?" Jen asked.
Gretchen cleared her throat. "Well, the conditions were good, but Mark was a bit… hasty."
Jen frowned sympathetically. "I'm sorry."
Joey glanced between them. "What do you mean?"
"Mark and I dated in high school for about five months during senior year. He was my prom date. Anyway, I'd hoped that with time and experience, he would've improved. I was wrong." She scrunched up her face. "His kisses are slimy, he isn't much into foreplay, and only focused on his orgasm. What a waste! It's too bad because he's really handsome. He's even better looking now than he was in high school. Unfortunately, though, sometimes when men are aware they are handsome, they think it's enough and make no effort," she said reproachfully.
Joey didn't know what to say to any of that. The thought of sleeping with someone without really knowing them that well, or deeply caring about them, made her cringe. Just the idea of anyone other than Pacey even touching her was terrifying. Jen eyed her, searching her face. "I think you scared her, Gretchen."
Pacey's sister laughed. "When you are well out of high school and are comfortable with your bodies and sexuality, sex won't seem like this monumental life-changing event. I promise. The way you feel about sex usually changes as you get older. Sometimes it's just sex. It's being human. It's a physical need, and sometimes you just need to fill it. As long as you're safe and responsible about it, it's not a big deal. Sex becomes less scary the more you do it. You know, like driving a car." Her gaze fell on a store looming in front of them. "I think I wanna check out Bath & Body Works."
Joey shrugged, her mind still on Gretchen's little speech. Suddenly, Jen's eyes went wide and she shot her a knowing grin. "You know what? Joey here probably wants to check out some books at Barnes & Noble. How about you go on ahead and we'll just meet you at the food court?"
"Okay, cool. See you a little later."
They watched Gretchen walk away. Then Jen took Joey by the arm, turned her around the other way, and started walking. "Um, Jen? We're heading in the opposite direction of Barnes & Noble."
"I know. That's not where we're going."
After turning left down another wide corridor filled with the mall's typical Friday night crowd, they were soon standing in front of Victoria's Secret. "You've got to be kidding me." Joey gaped. "Jen, we're supposed to be shopping for the ski trip."
"And that's exactly what we're doing, Joey." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.
"No way. I'm not going in there."
"Come on. Haven't you been saying that you want to make the senior trip special for Pacey?"
"Well, yes, but—"
"And didn't you mention the other day that, while blindfolded, Pacey said something about you dressed in lingerie and feeding him birthday cake? Do you think that little scenario just popped into his head out of thin air?"
Joey stared at the storefront, watching shoppers enter and exit. She knew that Pacey's lingerie comment on Monday night hadn't been a new thought, and that he'd often make some joke or tease her about Victoria's Secret whenever they came to the mall. She could feel her face burning. "Jen, I can't. It's too embarrassing. I would look ridiculous."
Her friend crossed her arms and huffed. "Joey, you're beautiful. You would look far from ridiculous. Maybe if we just went in and checked it out? You don't have to buy anything."
"Well…" Maybe if she just looked around… She made a few hesitant steps forward. It was then that she saw a familiar face exiting the store carrying two shiny pink bags, laughing with a friend and heading in their direction. Joey immediately turned around and started walking back the way they came, pulling Jen with her.
"What was that about?"
"Just this girl I saw. Her father, Dr. Evans, is the president of the yacht club's board. She goes to some private school, but she's at the yacht club every weekend. I've never actually met her, as I'm just a lowly serving wench, but I have no desire to run into her while walking into a lingerie store." Joey could easily imagine the future humiliation if she were to come face to face with the girl at work and have her loudly announce where they had bumped into each other at the mall. Drue Valentine would certainly never let her forget it. "Let's just head for the food court."
Elsewhere in the mall, Pacey perused the aisles inside the Aéropostale store. His hands skimmed over a rack of hoodies. In front of him, Jack held up a blue hooded jacket. "What do you think?"
Pacey nodded. "Looks good. I imagine it'll look even better on the senior trip." Their weekend in the mountains was just three weeks away, and it was all their class was talking about.
"I'm honestly not sure if I'm even gonna have fun on this thing," Jack sighed.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, don't get me wrong, I love to snowboard. But you know once the sun goes down, everyone will just be looking to hook up."
"Yeah, and?"
Jack lifted a hanger with a gray fleece hoodie and looked it over. "It'll just be a reminder that I have nobody to hook up with, certainly nobody on the trip."
Smirking, Pacey nodded as he moved to another rack. "Well, don't forget you and I are sharing a room. If you get me good and liquored up, there's no telling what might happen."
Jack started laughing. "Yeah, right. You'd never cheat on Joey, even if you were good and liquored up."
"You're right. I wouldn't. Not even for someone as cute as you."
"Stop it. You're making me blush." Jack eyed the new clothing Pacey had collected in his arms. "So, uh, Mr. Moneybags, what're you gonna do with your savings if you're not going to college?"
He sighed and turned away, inwardly kicking himself. He still couldn't believe he'd told everyone. What had he been thinking? Well, that was it: he hadn't been thinking. Gretchen had scolded him for not listening to her that night he'd come home from the party, but he honestly hadn't heard her warnings. Now he could only hope that the superstitious feeling he'd had about being jinxed by letting his savings account be public knowledge was just that: a silly superstition.
"Uh, since the plan is to move to Boston, then I guess I'll use it for our nest egg. Maybe get a used car. Rent a decent apartment near her campus, whether that's Worthington or another school."
"What did Joey say about it?"
"The money? Uh, well, she was surprised, but then she also said some things now made more sense. Like how I was rarely ever broke."
"That was quite the, uh, display at your party. I don't think I told you this yet, but I'm sorry for those things your dad said to you. I thought the party was going pretty well up until that point."
"Jack, I should be apologizing to you. What my dad said… there's no excuse for it. He's been saying shit like that my whole life."
"You've got nothing to be sorry for, Pacey. You didn't do anything wrong. We have no control how our parents choose to behave. How's your brother, Doug? Have you talked to him since? I know you ran out of there pretty quick, but he seemed… well, he seemed really upset. He didn't stay too much longer after you left."
"No, I haven't talked to Dougie. I'm kinda worried that my dad's latest tirade only shoved him even deeper in the closet."
"Huh. Well, we didn't stay too much longer either. Had to take Will Krudski to the train station. We basically just helped load your gifts into Gretchen's car and then we left."
Pacey watched his friend drape a sweater over his arm. "Speaking of my birthday party, uh, what's up with that guy, Tobey, that Jen brought with her?"
"Nothing. Why?"
"Well, I noticed he was makin' eyes at ya."
Jack scoffed. "It's nothing, trust me. The guy is… well… we don't get along, I'll say that."
"He's not ugly…" Pacey commented.
"No, he's not. So?"
"Come on, Jackers. I'm pretty sure attraction to men is only part of the equation. Why don't you try going out on a date? You could double with me and Joey."
"Yeah, that would go over well. A double date with my straight friends."
Pacey's face contorted with confusion. "Would that be a problem?"
"Well, Tobey doesn't think I'm gay enough. Whatever that means. I mean, just because I'm out doesn't mean I want to draw attention to myself."
"Regardless of how you… present yourself, I think that if you took this Tobey guy out on a date and played a little game of hide the banana, he wouldn't think that anymore."
Jack rolled his eyes. "Very funny, Pacey. Tobey just isn't my type, all right? And is that what you and Joey have been playing? Hide the banana?"
Chuckling, he shook his head and then heaved a sigh. "Not… technically."
"How long have you guys been together?"
"Seven months."
"Right."
"Anyway, maybe you and this Tobey butt heads so much because of your overwhelming attraction to each other that neither of you knows what to do with. Take it from me. I've been there."
Later that night, Pacey stood with his girlfriend on her back porch, his sister waiting in the car. He wrapped his arms around her waist. "So, did you like the movie?" he asked.
"I did. It was pretty good." Joey slid her hands up his chest to his shoulders. "Are you looking forward to the hockey game tomorrow?"
"Uh…" A whole day in Boston with Dawson, just the two of them. He wasn't so sure. "Yeah. Should be a good game." He gazed down at her. "Will I see you after?"
"I'll probably still be at work by the time you get back to Capeside."
"Well, yeah, but—"
"And I've got a ton of studying to do for my calculus test on Monday, and I promised Bessie I'd hold down the fort for the evening so she could have a night out with Bodie. The B&B is full up with guests right now. And then I have to be back at the yacht club early on Sunday to work the brunch crowd."
Pacey sighed. Something had been increasingly bothering him since Christmas, and while he'd thought nothing of it at first, and then started making countless excuses for it, it was now something he couldn't ignore any longer. "We haven't had a whole lot of time to ourselves lately."
"I know," she frowned. "Between work and helping out with the B&B and studying, there just hasn't been a lot of free time the past couple weeks."
Pacey lowered his arms from her waist, and looking at her seriously, he said, "Joey, have you been avoiding being alone with me?"
"I haven't avoided being alone with you," she protested. "Actually, I'm planning on spending the rest of my life alone with you." She smiled.
His brows arched. "But you've been picking up extra hours at work since New Year's, and by the time you get out, you have just enough time to do your homework and that's it. And it seems like every time we go out lately, it's a group event. I was planning on us going out for pizza at Carmine's on Wednesday night, and then we get there and you'd invited Jen and Jack and Dawson. And I thought it was just gonna be me and you for the movies tonight, but again, you invited Jen and Jack… and my sister… and it turned into a shopping trip."
She shrugged, feigning innocence. "What? I thought it would be fun. Weren't you saying you wanted to buy some new stuff for the ski resort?"
"Yeah, but I'd rather be alone with you, as you're aware. And on those rare evenings when we do manage to be alone, you always insist we stay in the living room. You haven't been up in my bedroom since before Christmas, and the only times I've been in your room are when Bessie or Bodie are there. I just feel like… you're avoiding, and you don't need to. I'm not…" He was trying to find the right words to say. "Look, you know I want to have sex with you, and I understand you're scared and I'm fine with waiting until you're ready. But just… I don't want you to feel like—when we are able to be alone together—that you're disappointing me if we don't go further than you want to. I just want to be with you."
Joey expelled a breath. She didn't know how she was going to keep this up. She was desperately trying to hold onto her plans for the senior trip. It was just three weeks away. Yet the waiting was becoming increasingly difficult, as was coming up with reasonable excuses for why she kept stopping their make out sessions from moving to the next level. If she was honest with herself, waiting just didn't make sense anymore and she was starting to wish they'd just done it on the boat. If she knew waiting no longer made sense, then he certainly did. But how to keep her plans and the surprise intact without driving him crazy and frustrating him?
"I'm not really avoiding being alone with you, Pacey." It was sort of true. "If anything, I'm trying to make sure that I get everything done that needs to get done so that I can focus on being alone with you on the senior trip. I don't want to be up in the ski resort worrying about homework or tests or the B&B or whether I'll still have a job at the yacht club after taking an entire weekend off. That's why I've been picking up extra shifts. I'm trying to butter up my horrible boss so that she'll give me the time off for the trip without too much hassle. When we're up there in the mountains, I want to give you my undivided attention."
Pacey smiled and once again wrapped his arms around her. "Okay, Potter."
"Now kiss me goodnight. I'm getting cold out here."
Chuckling, he bent his head and kissed her. She kissed him back, a long gentle kiss, and then pulled away. "I love you, Pacey," she murmured.
"I love you, too. Goodnight, Jo." He gave her another quick kiss.
When she stepped inside the house, he closed the door behind her, and after he heard the locks being turned, he walked off the porch.
On Saturday morning, Pacey rode with Dawson into Boston. After grabbing a quick lunch at a fast food drive-thru, they made their way to the Garden, now named the FleetCenter but nobody called it that. It would always be the Garden. Five or six minutes before one o'clock, with soft drinks in hand they took their aisle seats in the hockey arena that was also the home of the Celtics basketball team. The arena was packed with a sold out attendance of over seventeen thousand.
As Pacey removed his brown coat, revealing his Boston Bruins jersey with "WITTER" printed on the back, he noticed that several women seated in their section looked vaguely familiar, and it was only when the one with long strawberry blond hair turned around and smiled at him, was he able to place them. They'd been at that college party at Gretchen's ex-boyfriend's house. He sat there, racking his brain for the girl's name, but he'd completely forgotten. She said something to her two friends, and they also turned to gaze at him, smirking. She smiled at him again and then winked.
Pacey ignored the reaction he had created and watched the referees and linemen, who were already skating around the ice rink in preparation for the game to begin. The seats Dawson had gotten were excellent, and he was glad he'd worn appropriately warm clothing. Some women were in fur coats, and other fans wore heavy parkas, although he thought that a tad unnecessary inside the heated arena.
Four rows in front of them, a flurry among the spectators indicated that someone of importance was entering their section. Pacey realized that it was Gary Bettman, the commissioner of the National Hockey League. Within a few moments, the crowd in the stands also recognized the VIP visitor, and great waves of booing and catcalls erupted.
On Wednesday, in an NHL game in Montreal, Boston's star wingman, Sergei Samsonov, had engaged in a stick-swinging duel with Montreal's Trevor Linden, and in the melee, Sergei had punched lineman Brian Savage in the face. Though both players were sent to the hospital, two days later Sergei alone was summoned to Bettman's office, where he was fined two thousand dollars for unsportsmanlike conduct and suspended one game.
Yet it wasn't Gary Bettman who had caught Pacey's attention. The NHL commissioner wasn't alone, and was in fact accompanied by a guest. Walking in next to him was James Moore. Staring, wide-eyed, Pacey had never expected to see him again.
"Hey, that's the guy we have to thank for these great seats," Dawson said, nodded at Moore as the man sat down next to the commissioner.
"What?"
"Yeah. Him and his wife came to the restaurant last month and loved it. They got to chatting with my parents. Really friendly. Anyway, he gifted them these tickets. My mom is far too along in her pregnancy to tolerate these hard benches, and my dad doesn't want to leave her on her own for hours. So, I asked for the tickets for your birthday present."
Pacey was still trying to wrap his head around this information. "Mr. Moore was in Capeside? And he came to Leery's Fresh Fish?"
Dawson arched his brows. "You know him? I guess he's some well-known restauranteur, from what my dad was saying. He owns restaurants all over the world. He's on various boards and councils across the country. And according to my mom, he also owns a lot of real estate and his mansions have been featured in magazines. Must be pretty rich."
"He also owns a huge yacht called Tabitha's Secret."
"I guess you really do know him."
"Not really. I met him in Key West. He was business partners with the owner of the dive bar where we worked. I had a few conversations with him. He seemed like a nice enough guy."
Dawson stared. "You worked in a dive bar? You and Joey?"
Pacey nodded while sipping from his straw. "Yeah. It was a decent place. The people were interesting. We were only there like a month, but she made some really good tips."
They quickly fell into fairly comfortable silence as the game commenced. The referee dropped the puck. The slapping of sticks rang out, and a roar went up from the fans around them as a Boston Bruin emerged with the puck. The lightning speed with which the players skated across the ice held their rapt attention. At the intermission following the first period, the NHL commissioner stood up, chatting and shaking hands with those in the seats around him.
Pacey watched as Mr. Moore followed suit. He was still watching as the man's gaze went up the rows and then locked with his. There was recognition in his eyes. James Moore beamed a pleased, surprised smile in his direction. He watched the man tap on Gary Bettman's shoulder and speak in his ear. A moment later, the commissioner was also looking up at him.
The two men then maneuvered out of their row and into the central aisle of the seating section, where they began to climb the concrete steps towards Pacey's direction. "Oh my God," he breathed, and Dawson turned sharply to look at him.
"What?"
Swallowing, he could only nod in Mr. Moore's direction, and the commissioner moving up the steps behind him. Dawson followed his gaze to also see the two men approaching. The fans all around them watched Gary Bettman with keen interest.
"Pacey Witter," his Key West acquaintance greeted with a smile.
"Hi, Mr. Moore." He stood up and they shook hands.
"I thought I told you to call me James. I, uh, assume you know the NHL commissioner?"
"Good to meet you, Mr. Witter," Mr. Bettman said, shaking Pacey's hand warmly. "I've heard a lot of good things about you. Jamie here speaks very highly of you."
"Pacey is a fine young man. Tons of talent and potential just waiting to be tapped."
He felt himself blush at the praise. Behind him, Dawson pointedly cleared his throat. Pacey turned slightly and gestured to him. "This is my friend, Dawson Leery. His parents own Leery's Fresh Fish, and I take it you were there recently and gave them the tickets for these seats?"
James Moore smiled. "That's right. Glad they were put to good use. Nice to meet you, Dawson."
"Did you really sail all the way from Cape Cod to Key West in a twenty-five-foot sailboat by yourself?" Mr. Bettman asked. A small grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"Um, yes, sir. Well, no, not exactly. My girlfriend came with me."
"How did you get her to do that?"
"I tricked her into liking me." He smirked while the two men laughed in response.
"And it worked," Dawson quipped.
Pacey ignored him.
"You were right, Jamie. The boy's a charmer." The commissioner kept chuckling.
"So, how is Miss Potter? Things going well with you two?" Mr. Moore asked.
"Yeah, she's great. Things are really good."
"Glad to hear it. And how's school going?"
"Um… good, actually. Surprisingly good."
James looked pleased. Then he shoved his hands in his pockets and his face became serious. "And have you given anymore thought to what we talked about last summer, Pacey?"
Guilt inexplicably twisted his insides. Why should he feel like he let Mr. Moore down? He barely knew the guy. Keeping his face a mask of politeness, he smiled. "Yes, of course. I've given it a lot of thought."
"Good. I'm happy to hear that. Well, we won't take up anymore of your afternoon. It was good to see you again, Pacey. I hope we run into each other again sometime. Stop by the Ambrosia on Park Street if you ever want to discuss your future."
The NHL commissioner shook his hand as well as Dawson's, exchanging polite words, and began to descend the steps. Mr. Moore started to follow and then turned abruptly. "Uh, Pacey, what was the name of that bed and breakfast you told me I should check out next time I'm on the Cape? The one your girlfriend's family owns?"
He blinked, not having expected that question or for the man to have remembered something so seemingly insignificant. "Oh, uh, the Potter B&B."
"Thanks," James said, smiling. "Enjoy the rest of the game."
Pacey watched the two men walk back down to their row, the commissioner speaking with several other important-looking people and shaking hands along the way. A sudden wave of disappointment rushed up to engulf him, and he didn't quite understand why. Yet as he continued to watch James Moore reclaim his own seat in the arena, realization hit him. It hadn't been until this very moment that he finally knew just how much he had wanted to go to culinary school.
The hockey teams soon returned to the ice, but he found himself distracted by his own thoughts and unable to concentrate on the game. After the second period, he got up at the intermission and made his way to down to the lobby inside the arena's main entrance. He quickly found a payphone. What he wanted was to talk to Joey, but she was still at work. So, he called home instead.
"Witter's Roadside Diner. You kill 'em, we grill 'em."
"Hello, Gretchen."
"Hey, Pacey," she laughed.
"Bored, are we?"
"Just trying to liven things up around here. I hate to admit this, but a Saturday afternoon is much too quiet and dull when you're not around. Anyway, why are you calling me? Aren't you supposed to be at the hockey game with Dawson?"
"That's where I am."
"Is something wrong?"
He sighed. "No, nothing's wrong… or, well, I don't know. Do you ever feel like nothing is wrong but also maybe everything is wrong?"
"Did you get into an argument with Dawson?"
"No. He's being perfectly friendly for the most part. I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And believe me, Gretchen, it will drop. My life is a fuckin' apple tree, but with shoes."
"Pacey, what's up?"
"Nothing. Nothing is up. Nothing but the cloud of impending doom over my head that's starting to obscure my view of the future."
"Pacey, come on. What's the matter? Did something happen?"
"I just… I ran into someone I wasn't expecting to see and… I don't know. My mood kinda went into the toilet."
"Who?"
"Just… just this guy I met in Key West."
"You ran into him in Boston? There at the Garden?"
"Yeah."
"And why was this upsetting? Did you have a problem with him?"
"No, not at all. I just… uh… seeing him was just…" He heaved another sigh. "I just really wanted to go to culinary school, Gretchen," he admitted.
"You still can, Pacey. You should go. You obviously want to."
"Yeah, but I want Joey more." A voice on the payphone told him to add twenty-five more cents. "Uh, listen, Gretch, I gotta go. I'll see you later."
"Pacey—"
He hung up the telephone and walked away.
January 19. The smoke alarm shrilled and Joey jumped to her feet. The alarm had gone off earlier, and she'd had to wave a towel underneath it to make it stop. She'd then checked on the dinner, and it had looked fine to her. She honestly had no idea how long it took to cook a pot roast, but she didn't think it had been in the oven that long. Or had it?
"Dammit, not again! I gotta go. I'll call you later. Love you." She threw the cordless phone down on her bed and ran.
The kitchen was filling with smoke coming from the oven. Shit! Why did this always seem to happen whenever she attempted to cook anything? The shrilling sound jabbed like needles at her brain. She quickly turned off the oven and then removed her shoe and threw it at the annoying thing. The alarm flew off the ceiling and landed in the dining room. She picked it up and threw it out the back door.
"Joey, what the hell is going on?!" her sister shouted from behind her and Bodie's bedroom door, having opened it a crack.
"I've got everything under control, Bessie," she lied.
Opening the oven door, she coughed as smoke billowed out into the kitchen and the dining and living rooms. Damn! The dinner was ruined. What was she thinking? She couldn't cook. This day just got worse and worse. She sank to her knees, brushed away an errant tear, and had her own private pity party.
When his Friday afternoon plans with Buzz were unexpectedly cut short after an unfortunate bout of vomiting, Pacey arrived home to find a message waiting for him on the answering machine. The automated voice told him the message had been left only five minutes earlier, and then Joey's voice filled the kitchen. He'd just missed her call.
"Pacey! Ugh, what I walked into after school! Bessie and Alexander have some kind of stomach thing and my sister has locked them away inside her bedroom after she disinfected every surface of the house, Bodie's working at the restaurant, and we're expecting five guests to show up anytime now for a weekend stay. They called this morning to verify their reservation, and having seen on our website that we also provide dinner… and well, the cook's not here! I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I threw a roast in the oven. That should work, right? I mean, honestly, how hard can it be? You make it look so easy. Sure, the last time I tried to cook was a complete disaster, but hey, maybe—" The sound of a smoke alarm shrilled loudly, interrupting her. "Dammit, not again! I gotta go. I'll call you later. Love you."
The answering machine beeped as the message ended. "Good grief," Pacey breathed, shaking his head and laughing to himself.
Then he walked right back out of the house and got back inside his mom's car. It wasn't long before he was pulling into the Potter's driveway. As he neared the back porch, he almost stepped on the smoke alarm. He retrieved it from the dry winter grass and then walked through the open doorway. Smoke engulfed him.
Pacey covered his nose and mouth. "Joey, are you okay?" He saw her sitting on the kitchen floor and went to her. "Joey?"
"I burned the roast," she mumbled. "It's black. What's wrong with me that I can't cook something so easy?"
"Is it just the roast? Nothing else is on fire?"
She shook her head and he took her arm and helped her to her feet. "Let's get out of here until the smoke clears."
As she limped toward the back door, he noticed she was only wearing one shoe. Searching the kitchen, he found the other one on the counter. He opened all the windows downstairs and then followed her out onto the back porch. After taking a seat on the steps, he handed her the shoe and she slipped it on. She ran her fingers through her hair. Even with tear stains on her face, she looked beautiful.
"I'm hopeless."
"Your parents owned one of the best restaurants in town and you never learned how to cook?"
Her brown eyes narrowed, and he was expecting a whole lot of attitude, but she shrugged and replied, "Not really."
"Why?"
"Because I didn't. My parents cooked, and then Bessie or Bodie always cooked. I never had to. And now I have you."
"But none of them taught you anything?"
Her eyes narrowed even more. "I'm very grateful you came over, Pacey, but don't push your luck. I'm not in a good mood."
"I'm just asking a question, sweetheart. Is it really the burnt pot roast that's got you in this mood, or did something else happen?"
"Well, because of Bessie being sick and B&B guests arriving, I had to call in for my shift at the yacht club, which isn't exactly going to endear me to my bitch of a boss. And I really, really need to be on her good side right now."
Pacey sighed. "You still haven't asked for the weekend off for the senior trip, have you?"
With a sullen look, Joey sat down next to him. "I've been trying to catch her in a good mood, which now seems like a fool's errand."
"What if she doesn't let you have the time off?" His heart started to sink within him.
"Pacey, I am going on that trip. I've been waiting this long, and now it's only two weeks away. Nothing is going to stop me from going. I promise."
He sure hoped so. "I take it our date night is cancelled?"
She frowned, snaking her arm through his, and snuggled closer. "I'm sorry. If Bessie wasn't currently puking her guts out, I'd definitely be going out with you tonight."
"When was the last time we were alone, Jo? I mean, really alone… for a significant amount of time. When was the last time we made out?" He racked his brain. "Before my birthday, right?"
God, had it really been that long? She was tired of waiting, and didn't want to make him wait any longer either. Waiting was a type of suffering, she understood that now, but the senior trip was so close. If her yearning for him almost made her ache, she knew it had to be the same for him. She didn't want to keep avoiding, to keep putting off any type of sexual affection until the ski trip. It wasn't fair.
"I'll make it up to you, Pacey. I get out of work tomorrow at four, and then I'm completely free. We'll have a Saturday date night. I'll take you out. I'll pick you up and bring you flowers and buy you dinner and then we can go back to your place… for dessert." She grinned. "I promise."
"Yeah, yeah. Promises, promises," he teased.
Joey smiled a smile that rivaled the sun, and for a moment he was lost in her charm. Sighing, she laid her head on his shoulder, in that spot made just for her. "Thanks for coming to my rescue. Have I ever told you that you're the perfect boyfriend?"
"Can't say that I recall, but feel free to tell me more often and reward me accordingly."
She fought a grin and her chest shook with quiet, breathy laughter. Then her brows creased as she suddenly remembered something and she lifted her face to look at him. "What are you doing over here so early, anyway? Weren't you supposed to be hanging out with Buzz until six?"
"He's also puking his guts out. Must be a bug going around."
She eyed the Witter wagon in the drive and decided to broach a subject she hadn't brought up since his birthday. "Have you talked to your parents since your party?"
"No, and I'm not planning on it. I'm never setting foot in that house if I can help it. I'm eighteen now, and this is what I've been waiting for. I'm done with my father. I never want to speak to him again. I'm in control now. He can't say or do anything to me ever again. He'll never put his hands on me again. I'll never let him treat me like shit again." He sighed heavily. "Anyway, it's done now. It's over. I can move on from him, and pretty soon, this dreary town."
Joey wrapped her arms around him. "I'm so sorry, Pace. At least you're talking about it, and that's good. It doesn't help to keep it all bottled up inside."
He wanted to tell her that she was one to talk, but her hand stroked his neck and he lost his train of thought. The pain inside him ebbed and more pleasant, vibrant feelings emerged. She smelled of smoke mixed with her familiar scent that was all woman—a delicate fragrance that filled his nostrils and awakened needs deep inside him. His hand rested on the curve of her hip, and the urge was strong to move upward to her breasts, to feel their soft weight, their warm sweetness, her tight nipples.
"The smoke has cleared up," he said, pulling out of her embrace and getting to his feet. He needed to put distance between them. "Let's go check out the damage, Potter."
She followed him inside. "This is my last attempt at cooking. From now on, if I'm the one left in charge of meals, guests will be eating sandwiches."
He opened the oven door. "Since when are you a person who gives up that easily?"
"How many times has the smoke alarm gone off now because of me?"
"Point taken." He found a hot pad on the counter and lifted the pan out of the oven. Inside was a burnt lump of meat. "How long have you been cooking this thing?"
"Over an hour."
"Jesus. At what temperature?"
"Four hundred, I think. Was that too high?"
"Uh, yeah, a bit."
"This is why I don't cook, Pacey."
"Don't be so hard on yourself, Jo. Anyone could've made that mistake. You'll get it right next time."
The glare she shot in his direction could have melted steel.
He cleared his throat. "Just trying to help."
Suddenly her sister was shouting again. "Is Pacey here?!"
Joey huffed. "Yes, Bessie!" she shouted back.
"Thank God!" She heard her sister's bedroom door shut once again, and rolled her eyes.
Pacey set the pan on another hot pad. Stabbing at the charred meat with a knife and fork, he pulled the roast apart. "I'm determining if we can salvage this."
"You're kidding?" Her eyes went wide. "Or you're blind?"
"Neither. I think if we cut off the layers of black, there will be plenty enough for hash. Breakfast for dinner is on the menu tonight." Setting the utensils down on the counter, he grabbed the loaf of Wonder bread from the counter, placed a slice of white bread on top of the roast beef, and added the lid. "We'll let that sit for about ten minutes. It'll absorb the burnt smell and taste."
"Really?"
"Yep." Then he pushed his sleeves up to his elbows and turned to her. "We've got work to do and you have paying guests that will be arriving soon. I'll need some potatoes from the pantry, some eggs, and the box of biscuit mix. While you're doing that, I'll get the ladder out of the garage and put the smoke alarm back up."
It didn't take him long to reinstall the alarm. After carrying the ladder back to the garage, he got busy in the kitchen.
Later, after the guests had arrived, had been served a highly-praised dinner, and had retreated to their rooms for the night, Joey and Pacey collapsed on the living room couch. "So, what do you want to do on our date night tomorrow?" he asked her.
"You mean, before we wind up at your place?" she grinned.
Her eyes glinted suggestively, and he could feel sensations stirring in his gut as racy thoughts filled his mind. "Yeah, before that."
Joey pursed her lips, thinking a moment. "How about something we haven't done in a while?"
Crossing his arms, Pacey tried to think of what she could be referring to. They'd recently gone to the movies, popcorn with extra butter and all. They'd been to the mall. "Um… like what?"
"Mini golf."
He laughed. "You're right. We haven't done that in a while. But were we ever big mini golf people to begin with, Jo?"
"Pacey, how am I ever going to beat you if we don't play more often?"
"Fair enough."
She smiled and pulled him closer, his arms loosening and going around her. "So, it's a date. Tomorrow night. Dinner, a rousing game of mini golf, and then…"
"And then?"
Joey smirked, her gaze gliding down his body, and then slowly, wantonly she smiled at him, her eyes sparkling impishly. And then she answered his question with a kiss full of passion and promise.