September 18. The atmosphere around Worthington campus was like night and day to the state of the place just a week ago. The first plane crashed into the North Tower of the World Trade Center at eight-forty-five a.m. and, within a few hours, the campus had begun to react. Trotter Hall was evacuated on campus following the closure of other tall buildings in Boston. The Worthington Campus Security Department (WCSD) worked to increase security after the attacks.

The campus had become eerily quiet and somber over the past week. More than one thousand gathered before the steps of Cushing Chapel on the evening of September 11 for a College-wide vigil. Aid efforts had become abundant—local blood donation sites were nearing capacity and various groups were raising money for relief efforts. Students were taking advantage of the counseling centers and support groups that had opened around the campus.

As Joey walked across the college green on a very different Tuesday morning than last week, she was handed a flyer advertising an upcoming rally being organized by the Worthington Initiative for Peace and Justice to be held this Saturday on the steps of George W. Forbes Library. As she looked over the flyer, calling for a peaceful response to the attacks, another flyer was shoved at her. This one had been made up by the Worthington Republican Club, which was apparently organizing a "Rally for Patriotism and American Unity." She crumpled it in her palm and tossed it in the next trash can she came across.

She entered Lake Hall and took the first set of steps to the right that led up to the second floor. The hallway upstairs was crowded with students waiting for the rooms to empty. She threaded through the laughing groups, dodging some who still looked half asleep. Finding an empty spot across from her classroom, she sat down against the wall and crossed her legs. She ran her hands over her jeans, looking forward to her eleven-a.m. class, Intro to Literary Studies.

She leaned her head back against the wall, closed her eyes, and thought of Pacey, the keeper of her heart. His smile, his beautiful smile. His big hands, and his long fingers. His eyes, so bright and so blue. His broad chest that tapered to a slim waist. His skinny legs and strong arms. His shoulders, his back, his perfect ass; God, he was gorgeous. And he was sweet and funny and kind and amazing and perfect. In her mind's eye, she loved it all, even the way he nibbled on his hangnails when he was distracted, and the way he ate big bowls of sugary cereal while sitting around in nothing but his underwear watching Saturday morning cartoons like an eight-year-old kid.

She thought of dozens of intense moments between herself and Pacey. The sweet ache that filled her when she kissed him, and the breathtaking sensation when his tongue parted her lips. She thought of the thrill that sang in her blood as she felt the power of his body, and the passion between them, how they invited each other to touch, to trust, and to take. How his searching tongue and fingers on her nipples, her pussy, and now her anus, sent sparks of hot electrical euphoria shooting through her whole body. Then, finally, all the different ways he could now bring her to the peak, stroking and circling and thrusting with his mouth and fingers and that perfect cock until her whole body shook as she came and came and came.

"Girl, what are you doing sitting on the floor?"

Her eyes flew open, and a smile broke out across her face when she saw the wide, bright smile stretching across the buttery caramel tone of Alan Napier's boyishly, handsome face. They'd kind of buddied up during freshmen orientation. He had a room on the third floor of Plymouth Hall and he was in her next class, plus art on Fridays. She'd immediately warmed to his outgoing personality.

Joey glanced at the expensive looking jeans he wore. "It's comfortable down here. You should join me."

"Hell no. I don't want my fine ass to be tainted by sitting on that floor." He propped a hip against the wall beside her and grinned. "I can see I caught you daydreaming. So, when am I going to meet this boyfriend of yours? He has yet to show himself around here."

"He's busy with a full-time job. And maybe if my roommate didn't sexile me from the dorm so much, then it's possible he'd hang out on campus more often."

"I don't know," Alan teased. "I'm starting to think he might just be a figment of your imagination."

She smirked up at him. "Come by my room sometime. I have photographic evidence that he exists."

"I'd much rather see him in person, but I suppose I can settle for pictures."

Down the hallway, the double doors opened, and two girls ran smack into a group of laughing students. "Hey, watch it!" one member of the group scolded.

Joey's face blushed pink with embarrassment over her own mishap involving those same double doors on her first day of class. "Those doors really are a hazard," she griped.

Alan laughed. "They're just doors."

"Well, you didn't nearly kill a guy in the hallway racing to class."

"What?" His dark eyes widened with interest and he started to kneel down. Someone caught his attention. "Hold on a sec, Joey." Then he started waving his arm and jumping. "Yo! Sabrina. Get your ass over here!"

A short black girl, a little over five feet with a gymnast's body, jerked to a stop in the middle of the hall and turned toward them, her eyes widening, but she smiled as she saw Alan hopping around. She cut her way over, stopping in front of them.

"Sabrina, this is Joey. She's in this class, too." Alan beamed. "Joey, this is Sabrina. Say hi."

"Hi," Sabrina said, giving her a little wave.

She waved back, taking in the pretty girl's natural curly red hair that fell just past her shoulders, and the tiny freckles dotting her light complexion around her nose and cheeks, her tight blue jeans, and black sneakers. She looked perky. Really perky. Like a cheerleader. Her white tank top revealed sleekly toned arms, and there was a slight gap between her top and her jeans that showcased a magazine cover-worthy set of abs. "Hey."

"Joey is about to tell us how she almost killed a guy here in the hallway. Thought you'd like to hear the story, too."

She winced, but the spark of interest in Sabrina's brown eyes was kind of funny as she looked at her. "Do tell," she said, smiling.

"Well, I didn't really almost kill someone," Joey said, sighing. "But it was close and it was so, so embarrassing."

"Embarrassing stories are the best," Alan threw out, kneeling down.

Sabrina laughed. "That is true."

"Spill it, sister."

Joey tucked her hair back and lowered her voice so the whole corridor didn't revel in her humiliation. "I was late to English 101 on the first day of class, and I was sort of running through those double doors. I wasn't watching where I was going and I plowed right into this poor guy in the hallway."

"Yikes." A sympathetic look crossed Sabrina's face.

"Yeah, and I mean, I almost knocked him over. I dropped my stuff. Books and pens flew everywhere. It was pretty epic. Epically embarrassing."

Alan's dark brown eyes gleamed with humor. "Was he hot?"

"What?"

"Was he hot?" he repeated as he smoothed a hand through his cropped hair. "'Cuz if he was hot, you should've used it to your advantage. That could've become the best ice breaker in history. Like you two could fall madly in love, and you get to tell everyone how you plowed into him before he actually plowed you."

"Oh, my God." She rolled her eyes. "That's never going to happen. Alan, you know I have a boyfriend."

"The imaginary one?"

Joey stared, her face hardening. "Okay, look, Pacey's meeting me after class so we can get lunch together before he goes to work. If you hang around with me after for a few minutes, then you can see him."

"You still didn't answer my question."

She huffed and rolled her eyes again. "Yes, the guy was really good-looking."

"Oh no," said Sabrina, who seemed to be the only other person to recognize how a hot guy made the situation all the more embarrassing.

Alan looked even more thrilled by the news. "So, tell me what this good-looking man candy looked like? This is a need-to-know kind of detail."

Part of her didn't want to say, because remembering the incident in the hallway made her a thousand different levels of uncomfortable. "Uh… well, he was tall and…" She searched for the words. "Nicely built, I guess?"

"How do you know he was nicely built? Did you feel him up, too?"

She laughed as Sabrina shook her head. "I seriously ran into him, Alan. And he caught me. I wasn't feeling him up on purpose. We were sort of…" She lifted her hands and made her palms meet. "Pressed together." She shrugged. "Anyway, he had brown, sorta wavy hair. Long-ish, kind of messy but in a—"

"Damn, girl, if you say messy in a I-don't-care-I'm-a-sexy-beast kind of way, then I want to run into this guy."

Sabrina giggled. "Love hair like that."

Joey started to feel annoyed the conversation about Hazel Eyes had lasted this long. "Yeah, it was like that. He was… hot, I guess, sure, but he also came off really condescending and arrogant. He was a complete jerk."

"Is he a freshman?" Alan asked.

"No. He looked too old. The way he said undergrads made it seem as if he wasn't one. So, maybe he's in grad school? He was on his way to class…" She tried to remember. "Three-hundred-something?"

Sabrina shook her head. "The three-hundred classes aren't graduate level. The courses in the MA program are grouped in the five- and six-hundreds." Her eyes went wide with realization, and she let out a loud laugh. "Did he have like male-model-grade cheekbones and the perfect amount of sexy scruff on his face?"

Joey heaved a sigh. "Uh… yeah, I guess."

"Did you get his name?"

She was starting to get worried because Alan also had this dawning expression on his face. "No."

Sabrina elbowed Alan, and then lowered her voice. "Damn. Do you think she ran into Edward Doling?"

"Who's that?" Joey asked.

"He's the T.A. in our English 101 class. Mondays and Wednesdays. But I guess he assists in a lot of the undergrad courses. When he introduced himself in our first class, he told us he works as a T.A. in the English Department to cover the cost of grad school. And yeah, he can be condescending and arrogant, like you said. Half the class can't stand his ass. His opinions are always the correct ones, and we're all just really stupid and we should be so lucky to have him as our T.A. So, yeah, he's a jerk, but like… a really hot jerk. I mean, I'd fuck him."

Alan wasn't smiling. He was just staring at Joey as if in… awe? "I am so incredibly envious of you right now. I would give my left testicle to run into Edward Doling. He is total spank bank material. Maybe I should accidentally trip in class tomorrow and fall into him?" he said as if having an epiphany, and Sabrina giggled.

"Maybe we'd both stumble to the ground, arms and legs tangled as we rolled helplessly on the floor until he was unable to resist my gay ass… or found a reason to file a restraining order. He'd probably rip my next essay to shreds, but you know what? Worth it."

Shaking with laughter, the redhead shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'm glad he's not the T.A. in any of my classes," Joey scowled.

"This semester, anyway," Alan shrugged, pursing his lips as his dark eyes sparkled with a teasing glint.

The doors to the classrooms opened, and the students waiting in the hallway spread apart, making room for those leaving class. Joey had soon seated herself in the third row with Alan and Sabrina, and was taking her notebook from her bag when Professor Massey stepped up to the large whiteboard at the front of the room. As the professor began writing, she felt thankful there were no T.A.s to avoid.

At twelve-thirty, the class adjourned, and then Joey was heading back through the double doors, down the stairs, and out of the brick building. As she and Alan walked away from Lake Hall, her cell phone vibrated in her front jeans pocket. She smiled at Pacey's name on the I.D. screen.

"Hey," she answered, and Alan's brows raised curiously as he turned to look at her. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Hi."

She heard something like disappointment in his voice. "What's the matter?"

"Well, do you want the good news or the bad news first?"

"Uh-oh. Um, the good news, I guess."

"Okay, well… Jean-Claude's oldest daughter has to have her appendix out and she was rushed to the hospital—"

"If that's the good news, I don't wanna hear the bad," she quipped.

Pacey laughed breathlessly. "Well, of course that's bad for Jean-Claude and his family, but I was told his daughter is gonna be just fine. And since he won't be there tonight, Dominic asked me take his spot on the line. So, I'll actually be cooking during dinner service."

"Wow, sweetheart! That's great!" Then she realized what the bad news must be, and her face fell. "That means you can't come meet me for lunch."

"I have to go in early, like… now."

"That sucks."

"I know. I'm sorry, Jo. But we can always have lunch another day. And then of course, it's your birthday this Saturday. I did get the night off."

"Unless something else happens," she muttered. Between his job and driving out to Capeside to help Dawson and Gail with taking care of Mitch, she felt like she barely got to spend time with him lately. Even though they spent all of Monday together at his apartment, she knew he was once again going to be driving out to the Cape on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, too.

"What could possibly happen? Olivia and Dominic gave me the night off, and they know it's a special occasion. As soon as I finish all my prep work Saturday afternoon, I'm free to go. I know I'm not the one throwing you this shindig, but do you want me to bake you a birthday cake?"

Her lips curved into a slight smile. "You'd bake for me?"

"Of course! That's the least I could do. So, how about it? You want a cake?"

She thought for a moment. "Um… how about cupcakes?"

"Birthday cupcakes? I can do that, no problem." She could hear the smile in his voice. "So, we'll definitely have fun this weekend, Jo."

"And if not, then we can always go out and do something next weekend. Which will… probably turn into next month."

"Or next year."

"Before you know it, it'll be a Christmas card every now and then... when your wife remembers."

"We should probably just break up right now, Jo."

"Yeah, might as well. Hey, it was fun while it lasted."

"I guess this means I have no hope of getting that spare key to your dorm, huh?"

"You're still on about that?"

"I mean, I gave you a key to my apartment, Joey."

"That's a little different, Pacey. You have your own separate bedroom, and even your own separate bathroom. Audrey and I share the living space. I have to take her feelings into consideration."

"Have you talked to her about her feelings on the subject?"

She hesitated. "Uh, no, not yet. But I'm always sexiled! I barely see the girl. She's either sleeping, or gone from the room, or kicking me out of it."

"You know, Potter, exchanging keys is a major step in a relationship, and one huge step towards actually living together in the same place, and then eventually getting married. You know, someday, even though the idea of getting married seems to set your teeth on edge. But since we're breaking up, I guess there's no point."

Joey smiled, rolling her eyes. "Drama queen. I'll talk to Audrey about it. I promise. Do you want to come over when you get out of work?"

"It'll probably be close to midnight, and you're asleep by then. You have another early class tomorrow, right? And isn't Wednesday your long day? You've got that three-hour math class in the afternoon. What would possess you to fill your day with a biology class, a biology lab, and then math?"

"I don't know. I'm a masochist?"

"You need your sleep, Jo."

"But I'd stay up to let you in."

"This is why that spare key would come in handy. I could just slip into bed beside you, and you wouldn't have to stay up, or even wake up."

"I told you I will talk to Audrey." She sighed, the disappointment over their canceled plans filling her stomach. "Well, listen, good luck tonight. I'm sure you'll do amazing and you'll impress everyone with your talent."

"Thanks. Fingers crossed I don't give anyone food poisoning. I'll call you tomorrow. I love you."

"I love you, too, Pace. Bye."

She hung up and shoved her phone in her pocket.

Beside her, Alan shook his head somberly. "Even imaginary boyfriends can let you down."

"Oh, my God. Shut up. He's real!"

"If you insist," he said skeptically, the corners of his mouth twitching as his widening eyes sparkled with amusement.

In spite of herself, she laughed, and then they started walking in the direction of Plymouth Hall.

Back inside her dorm room, she sat at her desk studying for tomorrow's classes. She glanced about the room. Half of it was a mess, while she'd managed to keep her side spotless so far. The door opened, and then her bosomy blonde roommate walked in.

"Joey!"

She heard the now-familiar tone in which a request was about to be made. "Audrey."

"Can I ask my favorite roommate in the whole wide world the hugest of all possible favors?"

"Sure. As long as it doesn't involve me leaving this room." Audrey said nothing and made a face. Joey turned to look at her. "It involves me leaving this room, doesn't it?"

"Zach is here."

"Where?"

"Outside."

"The one with the tongue piercing?"

"That was Stephen."

"What happened with Stephen?"

"Well… he was good with his tongue, but then he started sucking on my toes." Audrey grimaced. "Ew, you know? I mean, feet stuff? Not my scene."

"Okay, so is Zach the one with the tattoo of his frat on his ankle?"

"No. That was Tom."

"What happened to Tom?"

"Bad kisser. H.O.B."

Her brows knitted together. "H.O.B.?"

"Hair On Back," the blonde explained. "Gross!"

She gave her a pointed look. "Audrey."

"Joey."

"We can't go on like this."

"Couldn't you just maybe go to the library for a little while?"

A sense of indignation rose up inside her. "Do you have any idea how much time I've spent sexiled in the library already this semester? It's not even October."

"Please, Joey? Pretty please? And just so you know, I totally made myself scarce earlier this afternoon because I knew your beau was gonna be here." Brows drawing together in confusion, she looked about Joey's neat and tidy side of the room, virtually untouched since she'd left for class that morning. "Wait. Didn't he come over? Weren't you going out to lunch and then coming back here for a while?"

"He couldn't make it. Something came up, and he had to go into work early."

Audrey frowned in sympathy. "Hey… do you need me right now? Because if you need me, I will totally get rid of Zach. I mean, you may not be aware of this yet, but I'm pretty awesome like that."

Joey shook her head and started gathering her books. "That's okay. But I promise to leave without further complaint if I can give Pacey my spare keycard to get into the building and my spare key to the room."

"Why does he need it?"

"So, he can come over here after work, so he doesn't have to ride the bus to South Boston in the middle of the night. Campus is less than ten minutes from the restaurant. He'd only be coming here to crash, and then he'd leave in the morning."

Her roommate shrugged. "Well... I guess so." Then her hands went to her hips. "But if I so much as have to endure any disgusting guy stuff in the mornings, like smelly socks or pubes on the toilet seat, he is banished."

"I promise that if he ever does anything to upset you or make you uncomfortable with him sleeping here, then I'll kick him out and he won't be allowed to sleep over unless you happen to be staying somewhere else. Deal?"

Audrey relaxed. "Okay. Deal."

Smiling, Joey stood up from her desk and carried her books and study materials out of the room, passing by a guy who could only be the aforementioned Zach, and made for the small library on the second floor of the residence hall.

September 21. Friday afternoon at Ambrosia, and Pacey was busy with his prep assignment for the night: peeling and slicing potatoes. After the team meeting, which James Moore had attended before shutting himself in the manager's office with Olivia, he returned to his task, and finished up shortly after six. Dinner service had started, and the kitchen was erupting into its usual state of controlled chaos.

He turned from his prep station to see James and Armando speaking together as they started walking by.

"Hey," Pacey addressed the sous chef. "I'm done. Forty-two pounds of peeled and sliced potatoes."

Armando examined the sliced vegetables. "Well, now… looks like there's hope for you. Very nice work."

"Ah, thanks." His chest swelled a bit, feeing surprised at hearing praise from the pit bull.

The sous chef then took the huge bowl of potatoes and dumped the entire thing in the nearby trash can. "What are you do—" Pacey's mouth fell open in shock. "That was hours of work, man!"

James grinned. "I don't serve potato chips in my restaurant, Pacey. Have you ever seen potato chips on the menu?"

His brows furrowed with confusion. "So, then why did you waste my time and your money having me do that? They've had me peeling and slicing potatoes all week!"

"Training," Armando answered shrewdly.

"Ah. Okay." He scoffed, shaking his head. "So… what? You Mr. Miyagi'd me?"

Mr. Moore grasped his left wrist, pulling him over to a cutting board, and handed him a white vegetable the size of a grapefruit. "It's a truffle," Pacey stated.

"Yes, it's a truffle. But not just any truffle. Behold the white truffle—so fresh that you can actually see the little hoof marks from the pig that dug it out of the Italian soil. Slice it just like the potato."

Pacey took hold of his chef's knife and, keeping the fingers of his right hand tucked back, sliding his knuckles back to make the successive cuts spaced according to his desired thickness, professionally sliced it very thin.

"That's not bad. It's quite good, actually. He's learning. He's getting better," Armando said to James.

"Now, would you mind telling me what this is all about?" Pacey asked.

James picked up the truffle. "These babies go for twelve-hundred dollars a pound."

Pacey's eyes popped. "What? Over a thousand dollars? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"They are a highly prized and sought-after delicacy. Now, if I let some headstrong kid get anywhere near them without proper training, I would have to be out of my mind. Taste," James commanded, pulling a slice of truffle from the cutting board and giving it to Pacey.

He took it and tossed the slice into his mouth. He had no idea how to describe what he was eating; he only knew it was delicious and didn't taste like anything he'd ever eaten before. It was like a mushroom, but it wasn't. It tasted heavenly, and there was nothing that came to mind he could compare it to. "Okay. I get it." He finished chewing and swallowed. "But seriously, what is this about?"

"You might be cooking the truffle ravioli tomorrow. Clean up your station," the sous chef ordered as he started to walk away.

"But that's your specialty," Pacey replied to the man's departing back, before turning to look at James with confusion. "Won't the pit b—" He quickly caught himself. "Uh, Armando be cooking tomorrow?"

"He probably will, but there's a chance he won't. His wife could go into labor any minute. Olivia's due date was almost two weeks ago, and she got word from her doctor today that a C-section has been scheduled for Monday morning if she doesn't go into labor by then. So, we'll be without Armando for a while."

"And you'll also be minus a manager."

James sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yes. We've been interviewing, and some candidates might be up for the job. The one Olivia and I met with today seemed promising. Her name is Alex. We'll see. Some others have also expressed interest in the position, but they'll need to officially apply and then interview."

The double doors opened, and in walked the hostess. "Um, Mr. Moore?"

"Yes, Sara?"

"Mr. O'Donnell is on the phone. He would like a reservation for himself and his business partner tomorrow at six, and a reservation for himself and his fiancée for Sunday at eight, but every table is booked up. Both nights. There are no open slots in the reservation book."

"Mr. O'Donnell as in Joseph O'Donnell, founder of Boston Culinary Group, and friend of President Bush, whose net worth is around six hundred million dollars? That Mr. O'Donnell?"

The girl's face went as pink as her strawberry hair. "I think so, sir. Yes."

"Then I think we can accommodate him, Sara, don't you?"

She swallowed. "Yes, sir."

"We can move some tables around, find somewhere to make room. We just gotta think outside the box, right?"

"Right." She smiled, still blushing, and walked back out the double doors.

James chuckled and turned to Pacey. "You remember him? I think you met him at that charity gala back in the spring."

He searched his brain for the memory. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, I remember. He built his concessions giant into a company whose ten thousand employees provide food services to stadiums and other venues around New England," he replied, recalling the man's spiel from the party. "And he owns the third-largest print advertising company in the country."

"Yes. He also has stakes in movie theaters, ski resorts, and restaurants around Boston. And maybe you'll be preparing supper for him tomorrow night, or perhaps Sunday. That is, if he orders the truffle ravioli. So, don't let me down."

"I'll try my hardest not to," Pacey said, his guts fluttering with sudden nerves.

James smiled warmly. "I know you will. And just so you know, it's okay to fall flat on your face. Everyone in this kitchen has countless times, and that's okay. Running a good restaurant is about having resilience against human mistakes. Because we, humans, always make mistakes."

Pacey returned his smile, and nodded.

"Experience is what you gain from success, wisdom is what you learn from failure. Don't be afraid to fail. Be afraid of not growing."

His eyes lit up with surprise. "Chef Mao said that to me over the summer."

"He's a very wise man," James said astutely. "And a very good teacher. I'm sure there is a lot more you could learn from him, if you wanted to."

A knot of guilt tightened in his stomach. "Yeah. I know."

James took a deep breath and then clasped Pacey on the shoulder. "Well, I gotta get home to the wife. I'll see you tomorrow night."

"You'll be back again tomorrow?"

"Well, I wasn't planning on it, but now that I know Joe is coming, I'll have to make an appearance."

Pacey watched his boss walk out the double doors, and then it hit him like a ton of bricks.

Joey's birthday party was tomorrow night.

His stomach twisted into fierce knots, and he could only hope that Armando and Olivia's baby at least held out until Sunday.

Later that night, about a half hour before the restaurant closed, he went through the double doors to the back hallway. He opened his locker, and checked his phone. There were no messages or missed calls. He wasn't surprised. He knew Joey was hanging out at Jen and Jack's house, and was probably busy having fun with their friends. Pacey then walked out back to take a break behind the restaurant and found Charlie and John already out there, in the middle of a conversation.

"So, how'd you meet the lucky lady?" the prep cook from New York asked.

"I met her at the bar where she works," Charlie said.

"Was it a lesbian bar?"

"No," she laughed. "Just a regular bar. She's not a lesbian. Or… well, she wasn't. I don't know." Charlie paused a moment, smiling as Pacey approached, and then turned back to John. "Anyway, I kept going because even though I knew she was straight, I had this silly crush on her. And after a few weeks of me going to the bar and chatting her up, I started getting some serious vibes from her."

"Oh, hey, man," John said as he watched Pacey walk over to stand against the wall. "Hi," Charlie greeted.

"Hey."

John turned back to the apprentice chef and picked up where they'd left off. "Vibes that she wanted to become a lesbian?"

"No, vibes that she was curious about an adventure with Charlie," she smirked. "It's not about changing a woman's sexuality, John. It's about… one night in heaven. A lot of these straight girls are just curious. You know, it's an itch they wanna scratch. And so, for that one night, I provide them a service."

"What's the service?"

"I can make a woman come more times in twenty minutes than she has in the last three months."

Pacey chuckled.

"That's a hell of a service," John said in awe. Then his brows furrowed. "But you've been with this girl for weeks now. That's a lot more than just one night."

Charlie smiled shyly, her cheeks coloring. "Yeah. I don't know. It was supposed to be just one night. I figured this straight girl would have her itch scratched, and then that'd be that. You know, like all the rest of 'em. But… I don't know. I suppose it was more than just an itch."

"Or it must've been some night," he laughed.

"Yeah, it was. She had a powerful Charlie experience."

John's eyes went wide as he took a drag from his cigarette. "What does that mean?"

Pacey pulled a face. "We really don't need to go into detai—"

"It means I went to town. She came like nine times in thirty minutes."

John's mouth fell open, but Pacey only grimaced.

"Then she tried to do the same thing to me, but she didn't really know what she was doing, so I only came, like, three times. It was freakin' adorable," she gushed. "She's gotten a lot better since then." Charlie crossed her arms in front of her chest, fighting a giddy smile. "Anyway, I like her, and she likes me. She's coming over tonight when she gets out of work."

"I really, really don't wanna hear this."

"Pacey, man, shut up!" John laughed, and then turned to Charlie. "Wait. She came nine times in thirty minutes? Nine? Like, how is that even possible?"

"Look, I don't have time to explain lesbian shit to you, okay?"

The steel door opened, and Armando called John back inside. The New Yorker put out his cigarette and returned to the restaurant. Pacey watched the door close, and then turned to see a shit-eating grin spreading across Charlie's face. He could only shake his head.

"Thank you for that," he deadpanned.

She laughed. "Hey, you walked in on a conversation already in progress."

"Are you a lesbian? I was under the impression you played for both teams."

"Well, I did. In high school, I was only ever with the one girl. When I got to college, I was this horny, heartbroken, angry person, and so… well, I started dating all sorts of people, male and female." She paused. "Well, dating isn't really the right word. Fucking. But since I graduated college two years ago, I've only been with women and I've had no interest in being with a man. Does that make me a lesbian? I don't know. I guess I'm still figuring shit out like everyone else."

"So, you like Gretchen, huh? Do you love her?"

"There goes that question again. I know you've got that whole protective brother vibe going for you, Pacey, but why do you need to know? Shouldn't that be between me and your sister?"

"Well, apparently it's okay for me to know every other fuckin' thing," he griped. He looked at the smug grin on her face as she shook with silent laughter. "And maybe it's not me who needs to know. Maybe Gretchen would like to know. Have you thought of that?"

Charlie's face instantly fell. "Why? Has… has she said something to you?"

"Nope. She hasn't said a word to me about you. I'm still pretending like I don't know this is happening, remember?"

Her hazel eyes narrowed slightly, and she studied him for a moment with her penetrating gaze. "What's wrong? Something's bothering you, and it's not what we're talking about."

"I might have to take over the truffle ravioli tomorrow if the pit bull goes out."

"Pacey, that's great!" Charlie smiled.

"Yeah? It's Joey's nineteenth birthday tomorrow. Her RA is throwing a party for her in their dorm common room, and I have to be there."

Her smile faded into a frown. "I'm sorry." She slid her hands into the pockets of her black-checkered pants. "This isn't an easy profession we've chosen. It requires long hours and devotion to not just learning your craft, but mastering it. And sometimes… things have to be sacrificed."

"I'm never going to sacrifice Joey or her happiness. That's not even negotiable."

Charlie sighed. "Look, you're only eighteen. You've got a lot of life ahead of you. I mean… Pacey, I see you when you're cooking, when you've created something great, when you're watching people eat and enjoy what you've made. I mean… you should see your face! When you've found your calling, you've found your calling. And that's it. Don't hold yourself back from that, from being all that you can be."

"Well, maybe if you saw my face when I'm with the woman I love, then you'd understand."

She looked at him, remaining quiet for a moment. "But I have."

Pacey swallowed, not knowing what to say to that. Silence hung in the air between them. "My personal life is way more important to me than my professional life. Besides, I'm not holding myself back."

"Oh, you're not?" she challenged, brow arching. "What about CINE? You've pretty much won the fuckin' lottery, but you refuse to do anything about it."

He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. A knot of guilt tightened in his stomach again. He was sick of hearing about CINE. It only made him feel like an ungrateful prick, like he had no right to turn his back on such an offer, when he had every right. He was the one who decided his fate, who controlled the steps he took and the paths he chose. He leaned back against the wall. Charlie said nothing more, and returned to the restaurant. A few minutes later, he went back inside.

Around eleven o'clock, as the other chefs and cooks started to seat themselves at the island for their regular Friday night poker game, Pacey excused himself. Not wanting to lose a pile of money to him for the fourth week in a row, his coworkers didn't put up much of an argument for him to stay. Upon arriving at the loft apartment in Southie, he took a shower and then climbed into bed.

It seemed as though no sooner had he shut his eyes and drifted off, something was stirring him, interrupting his sleep. He groaned.

"Pacey," Joey whispered. "Pacey, wake up."

He blinked up at her. "Hey. What time is it?"

"It's after midnight," she grinned.

A sleepy smile broke across his face. He pulled her into his arms, and she whispered, "Come on, let's make my birthday cupcakes."

"Cupca—" He smiled and kissed her on the cheek. "You want to make your birthday cupcakes right now?"

"Yeah. Like I said, it's after midnight. So, it's officially my birthday." She couldn't hide her excitement.

He blinked, rousing himself fully awake and glancing around the darkened room. The stars on the ceiling sparkled above them. "Jo… I thought I told you not to take the bus to South Boston at night."

"I didn't. I was hanging out at Grams' house with everybody, remember? Andie and Will dropped me off."

She moved closer, touched his cheek so tenderly, then kissed his lips. Pacey closed his eyes and responded to her kiss before he tasted alcohol in her breath and pulled away. "Jo, have you been drinking?"

She snorted. "Jack made some fruity, mind-numbing punch, and I had a little bit. Or… a lot, maybe," she giggled. "Come on, let's go downstairs. I know the real party is tomorrow…" She paused. "Well, later tonight, technically, but we can have our own little private party right now. There's a bottle of champagne in the fridge with a bow wrapped around it, courtesy of Gretchen, and there's cupcakes that need baking."

She pulled him into a sitting position, and he lifted her onto his lap. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

Joey held her finger and thumb about an inch apart, and they both laughed.

"I love you more than anything in the world." Pacey took her in a luscious kiss that almost made her want to sink them back down onto the mattress.

"Cupcakes," she whispered.

He rose to his feet, mumbling something about making it up to him later, and they went down to the kitchen. Moonlight sliced a path through the living room. She turned on the light over the stove, and when Pacey reached for the main switch on the wall, she lowered his hand.

"Let's keep it like this." She nibbled on her lower lip as Pacey began taking ingredients out of the cupboard. Flour. Sugar. Baking powder. Vanilla. "Don't you have a box?"

"A box?" He arched a brow.

"A box of cupcake mix. You know, add water and eggs, and voilà, cupcakes!"

He laughed and pulled her into a hug. "A box," he said against her neck. "Oh, my sweet, sexy, drunk birthday girl. You deserve better than boxed ingredients."

"I've never made cupcakes from scratch."

His gaze warmed. "You never baked with your mom?"

She shook her head. "Well, I remember baking cookies, but I don't remember ever making cupcakes."

"Well, have no fear. You're in for a real treat. Maybe I'll even share my secret ingredients with you."

"If your secret ingredients require me to be on my knees, I don't believe cupcakes need that." She laughed as he kissed her again.

After he popped open the champagne bottle and poured them two glasses, he smiled. "Happy birthday, Joey."

"Thank you, Pacey."

They clinked glasses and drank. He poured himself another glass and gulped it down. The champagne hit his empty stomach and made his head buzz. They stood in the kitchen for some minutes, drinking and kissing. Their lips tasted like champagne, intoxicating their blood, firing their senses and inflaming their yearnings. Finally pulling away from her, he gathered his baking utensils and set them on the counter next to the ingredients.

"First we preheat the oven." He stepped away and turned on the appliance.

"I don't need preheating." Joey pressed her hands to his strong back and kissed the center of his spine. "You can get me hot with a single glance."

He turned, his arms encircling her body. "Now we cream the butter and sugar."

"Mmm. Cream. I like the sound of that." She nipped at his lower lip, and felt his arousal grow against her belly.

"Christ, we're not going to get much baking done if you keep this up." He turned away and reached for the butter and a bowl, while she slid her hands into his boxers from behind and stroked him.

"Don't turn around. I want to watch you bake." She hummed, smiling against the warm skin covering his shoulder blade. "Have I ever told you how sexy you look in your chef's uniform, Pace?"

His mouth had gone dry and he swallowed before clearing his throat. "Uh, no, I don't think so."

"Well, you do." Joey slid one hand up his chest, teasing his nipple while stroking his cock with the other. "Aren't you supposed to be mixing the butter or something?"

He tried to turn in her arms, but she refused to release him. "Mix," she said sternly.

"You don't have to get so bossy, Potter."

"You love it when I'm bossy. Bake." He followed her command, and it emboldened her. "What do we do after we cream" —she cupped his balls, then stroked him again— "the butter and sugar?" She licked her hand and returned her wet palm to his thick, hard length.

"Fuck." He hung his head, and his breathing turned ragged. "Beat the eggs."

She waited for him to put the eggs in the bowl, and then hooked her fingers in the waistband of his boxers and yanked them down. "Whoops!"

He groaned again, his hand slowing as he beat the eggs. "You really are drunk, aren't ya?"

She giggled. "Well, you're kinda tipsy at the moment yourself, thanks to the champagne. Half the bottle's gone." She ran her hands along his outer thighs, then up his waist and around to his chest, playing with his nipples again. "You're not beating," she breathed into his ear.

"You're going to get a spanking if you're not careful, Potter," he said in a rough, lusty voice.

"Spanking? Well, that's another thing we've never done before." She wiggled out of her underwear and pressed her sex against his ass. "Keep baking," she whispered, and wrapped her fingers around his cock again.

"Jo," he warned.

"Don't come." She stroked him harder. "Don't you have to add the flour or something?"

Pacey dumped the rest of the ingredients in as fast as he could and beat them together, getting flour and baking powder all over the counter and floor and making them both laugh. She took off her tank top and dropped it on the counter beside the bowl so he could see it, then pressed her naked body against his back.

"Hurry up," she teased. "I'm hungry."

"I've got something you can eat," he ground out.

"Oh, you sure do." She moved around him and squeezed between Pacey and the counter, trailing openmouthed kisses across his chest. "Keep baking," she whispered. "It's very sexy."

She sank to her knees and dragged her tongue from the base of his erection to the very tip, then lavished the head of his cock with slow licks and warm kisses. He was trembling, his muscles taut, his flesh hot as fire. When she took him to the back of her throat, the utensils clattered to the counter and he leaned against it, pumping his hips as he fucked her mouth.

"Joey," he pleaded. "I want you."

She pulled back and rose to her full height, wagging her finger in front of his face. "No bakey-bakey, no cakey-cakey."

He laughed, snorting as he reached into a cabinet and pulled out the muffin pan, dropping it loudly onto the counter. Then he turned her around so she faced the counter and said, "Put those paper cups in there and use the ladle to fill each one three quarters of the way."

"But—"

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I've got your butt covered."

He dipped one hand between her legs, sending shocks of heat to her core, and she closed her eyes. She was so wet, his fingers easily slid deep inside her. His other hand cupped her breast, and he ground his cock against her ass. The onslaught of sensations was all-consuming. She rode his hand, arching against his palm.

"Don't come," he demanded.

"I won't." She bit her lower lip.

"Fill those muffin cups."

When he sealed his mouth over her shoulder and bit down, she went up on her toes and whimpered. Her limbs were useless. She couldn't think, couldn't begin to move.

"Don't. Come," he repeated. "Bakey-bakey, or no cocky-cocky."

She started laughing. "Now look who's getting bossy."

With trembling hands, she filled the muffin cups as fast as she could, getting more batter on the counter that in the cups. She slammed her hands on the edge of the counter like she'd won a race. "Done!"

"No, sweetheart, we're only getting started." He lifted her onto the flour-covered counter, sending the bowl of cupcake batter tumbling to the floor. He tugged her to the edge of the counter, and slammed his rock hard cock into her. They both groaned.

"Good fucking Lord. Making love to you feels like heaven. Warm, wet, tight heaven."

She clung to his biceps. "I need more of you," she pleaded.

He swept her off the counter, never breaking their connection, and laid her on the floor. Her body slid in the sticky batter as he pounded into her. He lifted her legs at the knees, and every stroke of his cock sent her spiraling deeper into oblivion.

"So good, Pacey. Come with me," she demanded. And then she grabbed his head and crashed their mouths together, disappearing into the feel of him filling her, his mouth consuming her, and his firm body enveloping her.

He pushed his arms beneath her, gathering her body so tight against him they felt like one being. "I love you, Joey."

She was too lost to respond, and the next thrust sent her into the throes of ecstasy. "Pacey!" she cried as he succumbed to his own intense release, the delicious sound of his moans of pleasure filling the kitchen along with hers.

"Love you," he grunted out as he filled her with his love. Every pump of his hips brought more sweet confessions. "Want more of you… always… forever…"

Sticky with batter, covered in flour, and still floating on a cloud as Pacey collapsed against her, Joey kissed his cheek. Reveling in the feel of his strong body pressing down on her, she couldn't help but tease him. "You don't listen very well. I told you not to come."

He rose onto his palms and set a piercing stare on her, making her insides melt anew. "Wanna go for another round?" His blue eyes slid over her shoulder, and his brows furrowed tight. "What's that?" He reached forward and held a batter-covered key in his hands. Her surprise.

"It's my spare key," she said softly, and touched his cheek, drawing his eyes to hers. "I talked to Audrey, and she's cool with you staying with us sometimes on the nights you get out of work late, so you don't have to ride back to Southie in the middle of the night."

He looked at the key, then at her. "This is a spare key to your dorm room?"

She nodded, smiling so wide her cheeks hurt. "And I brought my spare keycard for the building, too, since the entrance doors lock at eleven." She gave him a teasing grin. "Well, if you want it. I don't mean to be presump—"

He silenced her with a long, hungry kiss, and when their mouths drew apart, he was grinning, too. "Mark my words, Potter. One day we will live together for real and you will marry me."

She gazed into the eyes of the young man who had changed her world, the man she wanted to wake up next to every morning and fall asleep cuddling with every night, and she knew better than to doubt a word he said.