March 21. After the final bell rang, Pacey walked out of history class and made for his locker. As expected, he found a note sitting on the top shelf above the hooks where his coat and backpack hung. Smiling, he unfolded the piece of paper and read.

"'They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.' — This Side of Paradise, F. Scott Fitzgerald

I read this today in Mr. Kasdan's lit class and it made me think of you, of us. Every love story is beautiful, Pace, but ours is my favorite."

A pleasant warmth consumed him, filling his chest and then spreading outward, to the tips of his fingers and down to his toes. The elation he felt carried him all the way from his locker to the school psychologist's office. He walked into the room and watched Mr. Kapinos pushing the wheeled leather office chair out from behind his desk to place it near the couch. The counselor looked young, was probably just in his early thirties, casually dressed in an open-necked shirt and corduroy pants. He'd never be mistaken for a high school student, but Pacey thought it was possible he could pass for someone in college.

He sat down in the chair and ran his hand through his dark brown hair. Friendly and assured, Mr. Kapinos said, "Pacey," and nodded at the oatmeal-colored couch. Once he was sitting, the counselor continued. "How are you? How's your day going?"

"I'm good. Yeah, it's been fine."

"Report cards will be sent out next week. How do you think you did?"

A slideshow of his homework and quiz grades swam in front of his eyes, and he smiled. "I think I did pretty well."

The man smiled. "That's good to hear. And how are things going with the mentoring that Principal Green set you up with last year? Ms. Powell, the social worker from the Capeside Mentoring Program, says you've made a real difference in the boy's life."

"Yeah, it's one of the best things I've done, honestly. I, uh, I wish I could see Principal Green again to thank him. And Buzz is doing great. He's not that angry little kid anymore. He's made some good friends in school and, really, he doesn't need me that much now." He shrugged. "But he likes having me around, so…"

"It'll be hard on him when you leave Capeside, I imagine. For you, too, I'm sure."

He sighed heavily. "Yeah. You know, I've been so focused on all the reasons I wanna get out of this town that I haven't given much thought to things that I might actually miss."

"That's understandable. So, did you end up deciding to go to your friend's birthday party last week?"

"I did, and… it was all right."

"How did you feel when you were there?"

"Feel?" He shrugged. "Fine, I guess. It was a good party. There were no problems."

"Hmm. Well, that's good. So, have you heard back from any colleges yet?"

He hesitated, thinking of the letters that had been tossed away unopened two weeks ago, and the one that had arrived yesterday from a community college in Fall River, an hour south of Boston, near the Rhode Island border. He hadn't bothered opening that one either before throwing it away. "Yeah, but… I didn't get in," he replied, unable to meet his counselor's eye as he said it. It could be true, he reasoned to himself. The letters very well could've been rejection letters, just like the ones he'd gotten from colleges in Boston. With a pang, he remembered the letter from MCLA, but quickly shoved that thought from his mind.

"And how do you feel about that?"

He still couldn't meet the man's direct gaze. "It is what it is. Some people just aren't meant for higher education. Nothing wrong with that."

"You may be right. But if you could go to college, do you have any idea of what you might have liked to study? Is there anything you're interested in pursuing when you're finished with high school?"

He really didn't want to think about culinary school, let alone talk about it. "Nothing I've really settled on. I like the B&B job. I suppose I could do that in Boston."

"You're planning on going to Boston?"

"Well, Joey is most likely gonna end up there, at one school or another. So, yes, that's where I plan to be."

"And have you talked to her about how you feel about not getting into college?"

He swallowed. "We've talked about it. It's not a big deal. She understands that I'd rather be in Boston with her than anywhere else, anyway."

Mr. Kapinos nodded. "So, who would you say you're closest to? The person or persons in your life that you feel like you can confide in, that you trust, that support you."

Brows furrowing, Pacey wondered at the abrupt change in subject. "Joey," he then answered without hesitation. "And, well, my sister, too. Gretchen."

"It's good to have a support system. What's your relationship with your girlfriend like?"

"It's good. It's more than good. It's… great, fantastic. It's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"Are you able to talk to her honestly about your feelings?"

"My feelings? I mean, yeah. I tell her how I feel all the time."

"So, you're able to express yourself with her? In what ways?"

Pacey thought for a moment, and felt his face flush hot. He averted his gaze. "Um… well, I tell her I love her all the time, and how much she means to me. I suppose that… you know, I try to do things for her, help her if she needs it. And then… well, I show her I love her… you know, physically."

"So, your relationship is sexual?"

He flushed with embarrassment, but chided himself. There was nothing to be embarrassed about. "Yes. But I'm sure you knew that. You know, the whole reason I got in that fight with Drue?"

"Of course. So, would you say that being open with expressing positive feelings, like love, friendship, happiness, affection, sexuality come easy for you?"

Pursing his lips, he shrugged casually and nodded. "Yeah, I'd say so."

"Okay, that's good. It speaks to a level of emotional intelligence that you have that's rare in boys your age. That's not true of everyone, even adults. Many people are scared to love, to express love and affection, either with words or actions."

"I've never been scared to love Joey," he replied confidently. Then he paused a moment. "Well, once I realized I was in love with her, there was a time there when I was afraid, you know, to do something about it, but I wasn't afraid to love her."

"Now what about other kinds of feelings? Negative emotions? Feelings of loneliness, isolation, and vulnerability? Fear, failure, disappointment, anger? Are you able to communicate those kinds of feelings with Joey, or with anyone?"

He felt his insides clench. "Um…" He had no idea what to say.

"Those kinds of feelings are part of the human experience, Pacey. You, and boys in general, need to know it's okay to feel those emotions. What's not okay is to bottle them up and bury or deny those feelings, to ignore them. If you don't learn how to deal with these emotions in a healthy way, they will eventually be expressed in unhealthy ways—like a fistfight in the school cafeteria."

A breathless laugh escaped him. "Right."

Mr. Kapinos smiled and entwined his fingers in his lap. "Okay, well, I think that's what we'll work on together."

"What?"

"We're going to actively nurture your emotional intelligence so that you can recognize and manage the intensity of differing types of emotions. You're about to graduate high school, Pacey. It's a whole new world out there, and I want you to be prepared to deal with whatever comes your way, the good and the bad. I want you to learn to be more adept in your interactions with others. I want you to be comfortable with your emotions and interpersonal skills, so you can work on what it means to be a healthy, well-rounded adult.

"For you to be successful, Pacey, you need to learn self-management. I'd like to help you learn how to navigate the world you're about to enter, and I can do that by helping you differentiate and understand how the immature child in you tends to react in certain situations and how your responsible, mature adult self might react instead. Too often boys are at sea when dealing with the nuances of everyday life. And I know that what you were subject to while growing up presents a challenge to overcome negative coping skills. It won't be easy, but I'd like for you to explore what it means to be a real man. It will not only benefit yourself, but the people in your life whom you love as well as anyone you interact with in your community.

"How does that sound to you? Are you game?"

Out of instinct, Pacey started to protest, but stopped himself. Maybe Mr. Kapinos had a point. Maybe this whole weekly-sessions-thing might not be such a bad idea. He couldn't keep getting into fights, and maybe there were things about himself he needed to work on. And if that would benefit Joey and their relationship, then… well, he'd do anything for her. She couldn't go off to Worthington with his baggage weighing her down, holding her back.

"Well, I mean, I have to come here, so we may as well do whatever you want to do, right?"

Mr. Kapinos thought a moment. "You're right. You should have a choice in the matter, and I'd honestly prefer your participation to be voluntary. So, consider yourself no longer required to come here every week. If you don't, nothing will happen to you. There will be no consequences, at least as far as the school is concerned. I'll write up a nice report for Principal Peskin and assure him that after four weeks of counseling, you've done well and will not be getting into any more fights in school, which I do believe is the truth." He threw him a pointed look.

Pacey laughed. "No more fights," he assured him. "I promise."

"Good. So, the choice is yours. I'll be here every Wednesday afternoon at two-thirty, waiting for you, should you decide of your own volition to come see me and work on preparing yourself for life beyond high school."

"There's gotta be a catch, the other shoe that's bound to drop."

"There's no catch, Pacey. Maybe you don't completely trust me yet, which is understandable. If I had to wager a pretty good guess, I'd say you're much more comfortable and trusting with women than men. But I'm determined to earn your trust. Just think about it. If you show up next Wednesday, I will be here, ready and willing to work with you."

A little while later, Pacey buttoned up his brown winter coat and left school, and spent the half-hour walk home deep in thought.

March 28. On Wednesday afternoon, while taking the shortcut home down Stage Harbor Road, an SUV with "Barnstable County Sheriff" emblazoned on the side of it pulled up alongside him and the passenger side window rolled down. "On your way to meet your drug dealer?"

Clenching his jaw, Pacey stopped walking and turned to see his father grinning at him, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"Need a ride, son?"

"No thanks, Pop."

"Gettin' out of school pretty late, aren't ya? Did you have detention again?"

"I haven't had detention since the tenth grade."

"It's almost four o'clock and you're walking home from school. If I'm not mistaken, school lets out at two-thirty, doesn't it?"

Was this an interrogation? "I decided to stay after school and work on some stuff with…" There was no way in hell he was going to say counselor or psychologist. He'd rather get hit by a bus. "A teacher."

"Not a good-lookin' female teacher, I hope," he said, eyeing him with disapproval.

Pacey stared, unamused.

"I'm just kiddin'. So, why are you walkin' home? Did you get in a fight with Joey? She don't wanna give you rides anymore?" he laughed.

He stared, unblinking, fighting an eyeroll and took a deep, calming breath. "She had to be at work at three o'clock."

"You know, maybe you should spend some of that money you've saved up on a car, Pacey. Did you ever think of that?"

"It never crossed my mind," he deadpanned. Then his mouth curved into a vindictive grin. "I'm saving my money for culinary school, remember?"

John Witter set his jaw and shook his head. "Oh, so you decided to throw your money away by going to that hoity-toity liberal arts school to take fancy cooking classes, huh? That's not the place for you, Pacey. You won't be happy there. And cooking is not a real career, son. Do you even know the money the average restaurant cook makes? How are you ever gonna support a family on that? Or are you just gonna let that girlfriend of yours be the breadwinner? I mean, it's obvious Joey is going places, and I'm sure it's appealing to attach yourself to her shooting star and that way you won't have to make any kind of real effort in life, but maybe you should grow up and become a man instead."

Anger began to flood his gut like molten lava. "Is there a specific reason you pulled over to talk to me, Dad?" he spat.

"Do I need a reason to pull the car over when I see my kid walkin' down the street? Christ, Pacey. I haven't seen you in almost three months. Would it kill you to stop by the house once in a while? You know, your mother's birthday is next week…"

He looked down at his feet, guilt churning in his stomach. "I know it is."

"Well, are you going to make an appearance? Acknowledge the woman who brought you into this world on her birthday? After all she did to throw you a nice party for your own birthday? Are you really that ungrateful, or are you not in this family anymore, Pacey?"

"Isn't that what you want? You were goading me for years to emancipate myself, and well, now I'm eighteen and I'm out of the house, so you finally got what you wanted. I'm not your problem anymore."

"Can't you take a joke, son? Are you just going to ignore us for the rest of your life?"

"I can try."

His father sat there shaking his head. "All this over that stupid argument at your birthday party? You're gonna hold a grudge?"

"If only all I had to be angry about was that party," he muttered.

"You know, Pacey, we've given you a pretty damn good life. There are plenty of kids in this town who didn't have things nearly as good as you did. We gave you a beautiful house to live in. We put food on the table, clothes on your back. I don't know why you're so damn unappreciative. It's not our fault that you failed your classes last year or that you didn't get into any colleges in Boston. There's nothing wrong with not going to college. I've tried to tell you this a hundred times, son. You wanna go to some stuffy brick building for another four years of your life and study philosophy? Maybe that's what all your friends wanna do, but that's not you, and there's nothing wrong with that."

Was this some kind of a pep talk? Then the anger in his gut erupted. "I want to go to culinary school, Dad!" He hadn't meant to lose his cool and raise his voice. He also hadn't intended to even say such a thing, but he was unable to stop himself. It came up like word vomit. Yet now that the words were out of his mouth, he knew it was the truth, and a profound sadness began to engulf him. He shoved it down. "But according to you, that's not good enough. Nothing I do is good enough! You probably got my report card, right?"

John Witter heaved a patient sigh. "Yes, Pacey. It arrived in the mail on Monday. You got all A's and B's. Good job."

"Yeah? Good job, but? Because there's always a but, Pop. 'Nice job, Pacey, but don't get used to it 'cause you'll be bringing home D's and F's in your next one.' Sound familiar? I'm done trying to get your approval because I know, no matter what I do or how well I do it, I'll never get it. You don't care about me. You've never cared! And one conversation on the side of the road isn't going to make me come home! I can't for the life of me think of anything that could make me set foot in that godforsaken house again!"

"Pacey, stop shoutin' on the street. We didn't raise you in a barn. You'll come home if I tell you to come home."

He turned without another word and started walking again, but his dad's patrol cruiser followed. Shaking his head, he rolled his eyes. "I really would just like to be left alone. You're a pro at ignoring me, Pop. This really shouldn't be difficult."

"How about I arrest you and throw in the back of my vehicle, son?"

He froze, and then turned to gape at his father. "Arrest me? On what charges?"

"Oh, on any number of charges that I see fit. Maybe a night or two in a jail cell will give you a chance to think long and hard about just how far you wanna take this temper tantrum of yours."

Pacey heard the change in his father's tone, the not-so-thinly-veiled threat, saw it in his eyes, but he turned and just kept walking. Moments later, he was staring after the SUV as his dad drove away from him.

While spending the rest of the afternoon and evening by himself—both Gretchen and Joey being at work—he was bolstered by news of his report card, and feeling ambitious, began working on all his homework assignments for the rest of the week. When that was finished, he still needed something to occupy his mind. The final paper he had to write for Mr. Kasdan's class wasn't due until May, but he might as well start thinking about it as it was worth a hefty portion of his final grade.

He flipped through his textbook, and then his eyes fell on the Langston Hughes poem "Harlem" and he read it for what seemed like the fiftieth time. Not that he needed to read it. He'd been coming back to it over and over again for months, and had it memorized by now.

"What happens to a dream deferred?"

He stared at the page, the words going around his head. Unable to concentrate on homework anymore, his thoughts began to dwell on his father and culinary school and his many conversations with Mr. Kapinos over the past several weeks, and he couldn't help the feelings of depression that rose up inside him. He wanted nothing more than the comfort of his girlfriend.

Shortly after nine o'clock, Joey came walking through the sliding glass door and joined him on the couch, where she pulled him into a kiss.

"How was work, dear?" he asked with a smile, a humorous glint in his eye.

She grinned and kissed him again. "Fine. I made some pretty good tips for a weeknight."

"That's great." He resisted the urge to ask anything about Dawson. "Did you, uh, stop at home before work?"

"Yeah," she replied rather glumly, her mouth curving into a frown. She'd been running home every day after school to check the mail, and every time had been a disappointment. Reaching into her bag she'd dropped on the floor by her feet, she pulled out two letters and handed them over. "Acceptance letters."

A surprised smile spread across his face. He opened the first one and began to read aloud. "'Dear Josephine.'" Looking up from the letter, he cleared his throat and grinned, before returning to it. "'On behalf of the Board of Admissions, it is my pleasure to welcome you to Boston University for the fall 2001 semester. Your academic achievements and future promise have earned you a place to study alongside a selected group of high-achieving peers. I am confident that your abilities will enrich BU's community and that you will take full advantage of our excellent academic programs.'

"That's great, Jo. Congratulations."

She gave him a small smile. "Thanks."

He then opened the second letter and his eyes went wide. "Williams College?"

"I know. I mean, it's amazing."

"What did Bessie say?"

She shrugged it off. "I haven't told her yet."

Then he read the second letter aloud also. "'Dear Josephine: On behalf of all of us at Williams, I am excited to offer you admission to the Class of 2005. Congratulations! To be one of the 1,200 students selected is no small feat; you should be extremely proud of the work you've done. Our incoming Class of 2005 come from all over the world and bring with them a wide range of experiences and perspectives that will make the next four years of your life exciting and enriching. I hope that you will join this talented and dynamic class.'"

Emotion tightened his throat as he looked up from the letter. "This is incredible, Jo. I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks."

His brows furrowed at the sight of the frown on her face. "You don't seem that happy about this."

She sighed. "I know Williams College is a great school, and I feel very lucky, but… it's not the letter I was hoping to get."

He rubbed her thigh reassuringly. "You'll hear from Worthington soon, Jo."

Sure, but that didn't mean when she did, she'd actually get good news. "I know. That's why I haven't said anything to Bessie yet. I'm kinda holding out for the school I really want before she goes overboard about these other schools. You know how she gets. Have you heard from any colleges you applied to? You've been rather mum on that subject."

Pacey hesitated. He didn't want to lie to her, but he didn't want to tell the truth either. In the end, honesty won out. "I received a couple letters, but they were from schools that are too far away for me to even consider. It's just not practical. We'll be in Boston."

She wished he would consider all his options, but any conversations about them usually went nowhere. "Anyway, how was your day? Did you decide to stay after school and see Mr. Kapinos?"

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Yep. I did."

A warm, happy smile spread across her face. "Good. I'm glad. How was it?"

"Yeah, it was… all right. He's a nice guy. He just, uh, you know, makes me talk about stuff I'm not used to talking about."

"Isn't that the point, Pace?" she smirked.

"Yeah, yeah. And he, uh, he wants me to go with him to the Capeside Food Pantry and Soup Kitchen on Fridays during lunch period. Like a volunteer program, you know, to serve lunch for people in need. I think I'm gonna do it."

"Wow. That sounds great."

"Yeah." Then he sucked on his bottom lip a moment. "And then I, uh, I also saw my dad this afternoon," he said with a heavy sigh.

She gaped in surprise. "Did he come over here, or…?"

"No, I was walking home from school."

"And how did that go?"

"It went as well as any conversation between me and my dad could possibly go right now. It's my mom's birthday next week, on the fifth. He wants me to come to the house for it, but… I can't go in there, Jo. I can't. Not now, and I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to."

She reached and held his hand reassuringly. "Then don't. If being there is only going to make you feel terrible, it's not worth it. Maybe you could just send your mom a card and some flowers or something."

"Yeah. You know, maybe therapy's not such a bad idea."

"I wouldn't call your meetings with Mr. Kapinos therapy, Pace."

"Well… school-sponsored professional counseling, then."

She slid closer. "It makes me happy that you're doing something for yourself." Her arm went around his shoulder.

He purred in contentment as her fingers slid into his hair. "Well, I think I'm mostly doing it for you, really."

Her mouth curved into a slight frown. "Why me?"

"Jo, everything I do is for you. And it wouldn't be fair to you if you were to go off to Worthington with me and my emotional problems tagging along. I'd only bring you down, hold you back from living your life there to the fullest."

"Pacey, that's not possible. You wouldn't hold me back." She chewed on her lip, her fingers still twirling in his soft curls. "I wish you would start believing in yourself, believing you're worth doing things just for yourself, for your own benefit and no one else's. You should want to work at… feeling better… because you believe you deserve to be happy, not just because you want to make me happy."

"As long as I have you, I'll be happy, Jo."

Tears filled her eyes. "But you do have me, and I can see you're not happy."

He shook his head and caressed her cheek. "I am happy, Joey. I'm just out of sorts today because of running into my dad after spending an hour with Mr. Kapinos talking about things I'd rather not have to talk about. You're all I need in this whole world to be happy."

She wasn't enough. She knew she wasn't enough, but she didn't have the heart to disagree with him at the moment. "So, uh… is that what Mr. Kapinos said—that you have emotional problems?"

"Well, not in so many words exactly. I apparently have problems dealing with negative emotions, which I have internalized, and this has developed a pattern of negative thinking about myself. I mean, that's basically the same thing, right?"

"Not necessarily, but I'm happy that he's trying to help you." She frowned, a twinge of sadness welling up inside. "You know, I really wish you wouldn't say things like that—that you hold me back."

He brushed her face with the backs of his fingers. "That's just how I feel sometimes, Jo."

Her throat tightened with emotion. "It's not true. And when you say things like that… it scares me, Pacey. I don't like it."

Taken aback, he stared at her. "Scares you?"

"Yes! It makes me feel like… like you'd do some damned foolish thing like leave me for my own good or something." Uneasy feelings of guilt and fear floated disturbingly around the edges of her mind, and she hastily pushed them back, refusing to allow them to take shape.

He smiled sadly. "I could never leave you, Jo. I'm way too selfish."

She shook her head. "No, you're not. You're one of the least selfish people I know."

"Not when it comes to you."

"Especially when it comes to me, Pacey." She couldn't push the guilt and fear away entirely. She knew she was the selfish one. She knew she should force the issue, push him, tell him to give culinary school a shot, to go to MCLA, to pursue his dreams and give himself a future. She knew he could do something great if he only gave himself the chance. But she was selfish, and she knew she couldn't let him go. How could she go one day without him, let alone weeks and months or, God forbid, years? To have their lives pulled in opposite directions, to lose him, was unthinkable. The thought alone filled her with anguish.

"You can't… you can't leave me. Ever. I told you that before."

He smacked his lips and shook his head. "And I told you that I never would. I won't, Jo. You know I can't live without you. You're all I have."

He deserved so much more, and again she felt her selfishness most acutely, but it was nothing compared to the pain she'd feel if he left her for greener pastures. She told herself that she just had to get him out of this damn town and away from his toxic parents, and then he would be all right. Everything would be all right once Capeside was in their rearview mirror.

She pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "What makes you think I can live without you? How can I take on Boston alone? And Worthington, if they accept me, or any college, for that matter? I mean, it'll be such a huge change, living in the big city after growing up in this small town. I won't know anyone, certainly not anyone who could possibly relate to me or understand me better than you do. I'll need you more than ever, just to keep my head on straight and not over-analyze every little thing about college life until I'm frozen with inertia. Terrified that if I make one wrong choice, you know, pick the wrong class, or get one bad grade on a paper, that I'll be rendered a failure for the rest of my academic career. You don't just love me, Pace, you keep me sane."

"I'm glad I can be of service," he chuckled.

His lips were curved into a smile, but his eyes were sad. Joey touched his cheek with her hand, her love and empathy for him spreading within her, wanting—needing—to take his sadness away. Pacey held himself still, waiting for her to say something. Her expression was gentle, her touch soft against his face. Her brown eyes searched his. He felt his heart clutch in anticipation as the silence stretched between them. Then she leaned closer and kissed him as his arms came around her, holding her to him, afraid to let go, both craving the reassurance of their emotional and physical connection.

She sighed as his warmth settled around her, and pressed her face to his neck, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent. "Know how else you can be of service?" she murmured suggestively against his neck, her lips tracing his skin. She felt the raw shiver that wracked his body as her breath caressed his throat. "I want to make love to you," she whispered, and then shifted, moving to straddle his lap. She kissed his jaw and his chin before settling her lips over his.

The tenderness of her kiss soothed his troubled soul like a healing balm, and Pacey found himself returning her kiss almost desperately. He clutched her slender frame and buried his face against her hair. He was aware of the simmering heat that always lay just below the surface between them, and he reached for it to stoke the flames. When her lips sought his again, he took control of the kiss, and she responded with a fire that locked his breath in his lungs. His hand smoothed the back of her head and cradled it in his palm as he held her still for a plundering kiss. She returned the urgency of his kiss until they were both breathless and needy.

Joey climbed off his lap and pulled him by the hand, leading him out of the living room and up the stairs. Once they reached his bedroom they fell into each other's arms and began kissing hungrily. Pacey backed her up towards the bed and started undressing her between hot, passionate kisses. She gazed at him adoringly, and she loved every feature of his handsome face. She suddenly felt the need to see the rest of him, all of him, and didn't want to wait another second. She shoved his sweatshirt up and pressed her lips to the warm skin of his bare chest.

He helped by grabbing the back of the shirt and yanking it over his head. Naked to the waist, he concentrated again on getting Joey out of her clothes.

"Do you even know how beautiful you are, Jo?" he asked in a ragged shard of a voice.

She was pushing down his jeans and boxers, and she didn't care how beautiful she was, she only cared how beautiful he was. The sight of his belly and erect manhood weakened her knees. She stepped backward to the bed, and quickly threw back the covers. Then, with him watching intently, she took off her bra and underwear and lay down.

He was on her the very next second, covering her body with his, covering her lips with his, and managing to whisper again and again, "Joey… Joey… Joey."

Nearly overcome with the pleasure of having the weight of his body on top of hers, with his arousal nestled in that perfect spot between her legs, she ran her hands up and down his back and kissed every part of him she could reach with her lips. "Oh, Pacey," she whispered in his ear, kissing him. "My beautiful boy, my love."

He brought himself down so he could kiss her breasts. When he lavished attention to her nipples, he heard her moan softly and felt her twine her fingers in his hair. He pulled her breast into his mouth in a deep, sensuous suckle, and she moaned louder, her fingers pressing down hard on his scalp. From the movement of her hips and the way she was rubbing herself against his erection, he knew she was as hot and ready as he was.

Pacey moved up again, took her mouth in a long, feverish kiss, and then reached into his bedside drawer for a condom. Joey frowned slightly, not wanting the barrier between them—not wanting anything between them—preventing them from reaching the level of intimacy she craved. She wanted Pacey, all of him, more than she'd ever wanted anything or anyone. She wanted him to make her his, completely.

Once he was sheathed in latex, he caressed her back into a writhing passion. After his fingers trailed down her soft belly and into her folds, ensuring she was ready for him, he placed himself at her entrance and gently thrust into her wet heat. Fully inside of her, he began an easy rhythm. Then she grabbed hold of him and pushed him over, straddling him. "I said that I wanted to make love to you, remember?" she grinned.

He sighed and pulled her down to him, capturing her mouth in a kiss as his hands rocked her hips against him. Their passionate need built as she rode him, not hurriedly but steadily, and their hands met in the air, fingers entwining. Their first spasms of completion were so amazingly pleasurable that Joey squeezed his hands and braced herself as he started thrusting faster, his hips arching off the mattress to meet hers, and they began moaning. They were in love, and being loved, and nothing else that had ever happened to them could compare to this.

Her movements became more urgent and he responded to them in kind, their bodies now desperately chasing the ecstasy of release. Joey looked down into Pacey's face and saw tears prick his eyes. This brought tears to her own eyes, and her body clenched around him as he drove deeper inside her. She let go of their hands and he pulled her down to his chest, rolling them over until she was once again under him, her legs lifting to wrap around and hold him to her.

"Promise me you'll never leave me," she moaned between pressing kisses to his neck. "Promise me, Pacey."

"I promise, Jo," he whispered huskily, pulling back slightly, waiting for her eyes to lock with his. "I promise."

Several delicious minutes later, they both shuddered and went over the edge, their moans turning to cries. They could feel each other coming as her soft inner walls convulsed tightly around his throbbing hardness.

Their bodies were consumed with a fierce fire, and even as these urgent flames softened, satiated, they clung to each other as their bodies wracked with pleasure and bucked and writhed and slowly settled together. They were clinging to one another with a deep tenderness and powerful emotion that they had never felt before being with each other, kissing, hands sliding and caressing and holding. Their kisses were gentle, loving, soft and deliberate. Their lips shaped wordless thank yous for the satisfying bliss of shared physical love. Their legs entwined, warm flesh against warm flesh. He was still in her body; she could feel him slipping out with one last spasm. Turning to reach for the box of tissues on his bedside stand, she grabbed one and handed it over.

They lay together afterward, holding each other in the contented afterglow of their lovemaking, her head on his shoulder, fingers making lazy circles on his chest while he played with her hair. It seemed an eternity had passed before either of them spoke. "Pacey," she whispered, her brows knitting with worry before she gave voice to her fears. "What if I don't get into Worthington?"

"Well… it'll be their loss. You'll just go to some other amazing school instead, like Williams."

She frowned. "Yeah. The thing is, I'm pretty sure Williamstown is like the same size as Capeside. There wouldn't be anything different except geography. It wasn't just Worthington I was hoping for, but I really wanted to be in Boston. There's just something about the city… it's nothing like this dreary town. It's the only place where I can really imagine myself being there."

"I know Worthington's your dream school, Jo. I know you've got your heart set on it and you busted your ass to get in there, not to mention you even put on a fancy dress and mingled with those stuck up snobs at that party," he said, and she laughed quietly. "But if you don't get in… it won't be the end of the world. BU accepted you, so you can still go to Boston. You'll still have a great future, Jo. You'll achieve anything you set your mind to."

"You know I believe that about you, too, Pace? You can accomplish so much. I wish you'd believe in yourself, like I believe in you."

He turned on his side and pulled her against him. "As long as I've got you, I know I can accomplish anything. We're gonna have a good life in Boston. You'll see."

Emotion welled up inside her. "I love you, Pacey Witter."

Smiling, he leaned closer and brushed her nose with his. "I love you, Joey Potter."

The sound of the front door opening and closing downstairs broke through the intimate quiet. "Gretchen's home," he said, and his girlfriend sighed. Just the thought of her leaving and going home caused that profound sadness to begin to rise inside him. He didn't want to be left alone with his thoughts. "Can you stay over? I don't wanna sleep alone tonight."

She caressed his face tenderly, saw the sadness she'd seen in gaze earlier returning. "Okay, I'll stay."

Joey then grinned and pushed him over until he was lying on his other side. She wrapped her arm around his body as she pressed herself into his back, scooting her knees behind his and holding him tightly. She wanted her warmth, her embrace, to ease his troubled mind, to comfort and reassure him, of her care, her love.

"You're making me the little spoon?" he asked, turning his head back to grin at her

"You know you love being the little spoon," she murmured in his ear before kissing the back of his neck.

He chuckled as his hand grasped hers, their fingers threading together, and he lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her skin. They lay in silence, with her snuggled up against him, and Pacey listened as her breathing slowed and evened, listened as she fell asleep.

His thoughts were a jumbled mess. He wanted to think about Joey, their relationship, their future life together. The conversation with his father went around and around in circles inside his mind instead.

He wanted to prove his dad wrong about him, to prove him wrong about culinary school, prove he could make a success of it. The desire to go out into the world, to make something of himself, to cast off this town and everyone in it, and return years later as a huge success that couldn't be ignored or denied by his father was appealing, even if the motive was pure spite. He wanted to force the man to acknowledge him in a real way. To impress him, make him admit that the son he'd abused for years had become a better man than he ever was. He wanted to earn his father's respect. He wanted his father to beg for forgiveness. He wanted his father to love him.

That was one dream. To spend the next fours years in Boston with Joey, trying to find his place in the world while she was settled and focused at Worthington, was another, and the two seemed diametrically opposed.

But that didn't matter. Nothing mattered more than Joey and the promises he'd made her. There was nothing more important to him than her happiness, and he would do whatever necessary to make certain she felt as loved and supported as she made him feel. When he was with her, she filled him with an amazing joy he'd never known before. She made him feel whole, and without her his life would be painfully, unbearably empty.

She would always be beautiful to him, no matter where they were, no matter how hard life became. He understood how valuable their relationship truly was, how necessary their love would be to make it through life's ups and downs. As long as they had each other, they had nothing to fear. Joey was his dream come true, and Worthington was her dream. No other dreams mattered.

"What happens to a dream deferred?"

The words echoed in Pacey's mind as he drifted off to sleep.