September 22. Over the past month, Pacey had learned every kitchen procedure, had mastered every prep task that he was responsible for on the line. He had also watched and observed how every menu item was prepared, and what each chef would need from the prep stations to complete the dish. He had worked every duty out to a science. Once at work, he'd try his best to avoid eye contact with Armando, and simply keep up his end of the line. Long before dinner service was over, he was sometimes ahead of the chefs, waiting for them as they worked to complete their dishes. At no time had he ever gotten behind.
On the quick ride from the Huntington Ave bus stop at Worthington campus, Pacey went through all the kitchen procedures over and over in his head. Although there would be no Armando tonight, and that would undoubtedly do wonders for his stress level at work, the added pressure of being responsible for one of the most complicated, and not to mention expensive, dishes on the menu, was starting to make him sweat before he'd even arrived at the restaurant.
When he arrived in the alley behind Ambrosia on Park, he found Mr. Moore along with about twenty boxes piled up against the wall.
"Jesus fuckin' Christ, this is why I need a manager," James seethed, before opening the steel door and shouting, "Somebody better get these boxes inside before all this food spoils!"
Then the man turned to see him approaching. "Oh, hey, Pacey."
"Hey. Um, I can take care of this."
"Oh, thanks," James said, relieved.
A few minutes later, Pacey had loaded the boxes on a dolly and brought them inside the kitchen. While James and Chef Tucci began opening the boxes and inspecting their contents, he went to his locker and then changed into his uniform of black-checkered pants and white chef's coat. When he walked back through the double doors, he received friendly greetings from the rest of the kitchen staff. Charlotte Brock gave him a smile and a wink as she carried a bag of flour from the walk-in refrigerator.
There was light banter between the assistant chefs, Andrew and Richard. They were being picked on for driving to and from work together. "So, I hear you're a couple now," Sean Sullivan joked as he walked into the kitchen.
Pacey went over to the bulletin board and checked his assignments. Dominic had a page-long prep sheet every day from which he assigned each task to a different member of the kitchen based on his or her skill level. The afternoon would be filled with cooking, slicing, roasting, picking, chopping, and organizing for dinner service. After retrieving a container of white truffles from the walk-in refrigerator, he went over to his prep station and began opening the vacuum-sealed bags.
The afternoon wore on, and the kitchen was fairly relaxed for a Saturday. The difference in atmosphere when the pit bull wasn't around was apparent, at least Pacey thought so.
"The pit bull is nothing," Charlie told him while they worked side by side. "Dominic never lets him get too bad. The head chef at this restaurant I worked at while I was attending the culinary institute was a tyrant. He was a skinhead and had a bunch of tattoos, and the waitstaff were all scared of him. The owners must have been scared, too, because they paid him twenty-five dollars an hour. He'd get pissed whenever the hostesses sat people who didn't have reservations, and he always wanted to close after the last reservation came in. This was a problem if the last reservation was at like… seven-thirty.
"And then there was this head chef I worked for at my externship. It was at a restaurant in Vegas. He wouldn't send me out to interact with customers who wanted to meet the pastry chef responsible for their desserts. Because I don't look like a typical chef. You know, a big white guy in a coat. Chef always said stuff like, 'Not bad for a chick.'" Charlie rolled her eyes.
"The culinary arts is a male-dominated occupation, and girls have to toughen up and show that we can hang with the guys if we're going to fit in and gain the kind of respect required to move up the hierarchy at work. But despite Armando's screaming and sometimes unrealistic demands for perfection, this is honestly the first kitchen where I was never harassed or mistreated just because I'm a woman."
Pacey gazed at her with sympathy for a moment. "Well, if I ever have the chance to manage my own kitchen, I'm never gonna scream at the staff the way Armando does, or treat them like any of the other sexist jerks you worked for."
"Is that something you wanna do? Run your own restaurant?"
He felt his cheeks grow warm. "Well, I don't know. Maybe someday. It'd be kinda cool, right? But hey, maybe Armando and Olivia really will move back to Arizona, and the sous chef spot will be open."
Charlie scoffed and shook her head. "You're not qualified to be a sous chef. Chefs go to culinary school. But you've made it clear that you don't want that. You'll just have to settle for being a cook. And if you ever want to own your own restaurant, well don't expect people to line up to invest in someone who doesn't know what they're doing. Unless…" She gave him a pointed look.
"I can always apply to Bunker Hill next year, if I want," Pacey said with a sigh, and then stopped his chef's knife to stare down at the small pile of chopped shallots he was prepping for the truffle and mushroom sauce. He was already missing Joey's birthday party because of this job, and he'd only been working there for a month. The better he got at it, then the more responsibility Chef Tucci would inevitably give him. And if he were to ever fill his schedule with work and school…
Even living in Boston, and not a five-hour bus ride away, he'd probably find himself hard-pressed to carve out the kind of time he wanted—needed—to spend with Joey.
"What's with the long face?" Charlie asked, pulling him from his reverie.
"I'm okay. It's just… I wanna be with my girlfriend, be at her party tonight, but I also wanna be here." Pacey felt slightly guilty at the thought. "I couldn't even bake her birthday cupcakes like she asked."
"Why not?"
"Well…" His face reddened. "An attempt was made. But… unfortunately they never made it to the oven. Baking and booze do not mix."
Charlie smirked. "Oh, I don't know. I think they mix pretty good."
Pacey chewed on his lip, trying to keep a smirk from spreading across his own face. "I gotta make it up to her somehow."
"Maybe I could help you with that."
"Yeah?" he said, sounding weary. Joey had told him that she understood his predicament, that it was okay. There would be more birthday parties in their future. He could only hope so. He had no idea what the future held for them, he could only hope that come what may, they stayed together. And he hoped there wouldn't be too many more nights like this. He couldn't bear the thought of letting her down.
The double doors opened and John walked in. "Hey, Pacey, the boss man is asking for you."
With a heavy sigh, Pacey threw a grateful smile at Charlie and then walked through the double doors. He found Mr. Moore in the manager's office. "You wanted me?"
"Yeah. You like baseball, Pacey?"
He blinked, not having expected such a question. "Uh, yeah."
"Have you been to see the Red Sox yet this year?"
He shook his head. "No."
James pulled out a stack of tickets from inside his jacket pocket. "Monday night's game. Playing the Orioles. I was supposed to take some people for a business thing, but some stuff came up and they have to reschedule. Amanda hates going to Fenway, so I can't take the wife. You interested?"
Red Sox tickets? And he bet Mr. Moore's seats were some damn good seats. "Yeah, I'll take the tickets."
"Good. And take your friends with you. There's ten tickets there."
"Wow. Thanks, James."
"Don't mention it," his boss said, waving it off, and Pacey left the office.
It was getting closer and closer to dinner service. The doors were about to open. Pacey had faithfully stuck to the recipe for Ravioli al Tartufo that Dominic had provided him. For the filling, he'd mixed ricotta, pecorino, truffle, nutmeg, and salt and pepper in a bowl. After rolling out sheets of dough using the pasta machine, he'd cut them into thin strips, and then using a spoon, he'd place the filling in small heaps equally-spaced apart, striving for "just the right amount," as Chef Mao had taught him over the summer.
"How do you know how much is the right amount?" he'd asked.
"A chef simply knows," Mao had said, with a sparkle in his eye. "That is part of the magic—the knowing."
Shortly after five o'clock, the double doors slapped open and one of the waiters, Tiffany, hurried into the kitchen, wide-eyed.
"Holy shit." Tiffany slapped the ticket down on the counter. "It's them. It's really them. I just took an order from Ted Danson and Mary Steenburgen."
"We knew they were on the reservation book, Tiff," Sean said to her. "And they've been here before."
"But not since I started working here! And… I don't know. I saw their names, but I didn't, like, actually expect them to show up."
Dominic scanned the ticket.
"She was this close to me," Tiffany said. "She has perfect skin. Like, perfect."
The dishwashers began peppering her with questions. Dominic clapped his hands, bringing everyone's attention back to him. "We have dinner service to get through. I know Armando isn't back here to keep everything running smoothly, and we're down a cook with Jean-Claude being out, but just do your jobs and everything will be great." He turned to the line, raised his voice. "Two consommé, two scallops, and two truffle raviolis!"
People immediately went into motion, and Pacey did as well. This was becoming his favorite part of any evening, when all the planning and preparation tipped over into execution. He found himself getting lost in it every time. Everything else stopped, disappeared.
Dinner service was underway.
It went by in a blur, in a frenzy of motion, of shouting, of heat and stress. An hour in, the sauce for the ravioli began to break, and Pacey coaxed it back together with a little cream and a harsh whisk. Charlie worked the pastry station not far from him, plating the desserts to perfection and making sure the dinner service didn't run out of freshly baked bread. He also observed Chef Tucci, who cleared blackened skin like a surgeon with a scalpel, who nudged every composition, adjusted every garnish. And like the other chefs and cooks on the line, Pacey never stopped working, never stopped moving.
When it was close to eight o'clock, Mr. Moore walked through the double doors and into the kitchen. "Joseph O'Donnell would like to give his compliments to the chef."
Dominic groaned. "James, you know I hate going out there."
"What, you hate being worshipped? Since when?"
"No, of course not. I just hate the insipid small talk."
"Joe is one of the most powerful men in Boston. He can't be ignored, Dom."
The head chef went over to the stack of tickets and started rifling through them. "O'Donnell and his partner order the ravioli. Send Witter out there."
James turned and beamed a smile in Pacey's direction. The next thing he knew, a large white toque had been placed on his head and his apron had been untied from his waist.
"This is the biggest chef's hat I've ever seen," Pacey grumbled amid his coworkers' laughter. "It's ridiculous."
"Yes, but it's what the customers want to see," James said with a grin.
Stomach fluttering with nerves, Pacey exited the kitchen beside his boss and made for the dining room. He couldn't help the flush rising in his face as he noticed diners begin to stare in his direction, curious and awed. They finally reached Mr. O'Donnell's table, where the man was sitting with his business partner.
"This is Pacey Witter," Mr. Moore introduced. "I believe you met last spring at the gala for the Summer Supper Program." The man nodded in acknowledgment. "He's my young protégé from the Cape, if you remember."
"Oh!" Mr. O'Donnell smiled. "I spent some time there myself over the summer. My family loves spending summers on the Cape. I have a home there."
A lot of rich people from Boston did. Pacey merely smiled politely.
"Well, he cooked the ravioli tonight," James concluded, clasping Pacey on the shoulder.
What followed was an onslaught of compliments from both Joseph O'Donnell and his partner. Pacey's chest swelled from the praise. "Thank you. I appreciate that," he told them both. "It's a newer item on the menu, and I don't normally prepare this dish, so I'm just relieved it turned out all right."
"All right?" the man replied, astonished. "It was more than all right, young man."
Mr. O'Donnell stood up from the table. "Well, Jamie, I'll be back tomorrow night with my fiancée, and I'll have to insist she order the truffle ravioli. Simply delicious. And maybe we also can have that discussion you and I talked about," he said pointedly.
James forced a smile. "Sure thing, Joe."
Just a few moments later, and Pacey was walking back across the dining room towards the kitchen. "What was that about?"
"He wants me to do him a favor. His fiancée wants a job, even though he tells her she doesn't have to work—for obvious reasons. The man's filthy rich. But she wants to work, and she can't seem to settle on anything she'd like to do. I guess she's bounced around, trying different professions, can't seem to ever stay with anything that long. Don't think she's ever managed a restaurant before. Not an ideal candidate, if you ask me.
"Anyway, Olivia and I really liked that Alex woman. She's coming in for a second interview when Armando gets back, so she can meet with him and Dominic. And there are other applicants to consider, of course, who would undoubtedly do the job better than Joe's flighty fiancée. But Joseph O'Donnell is a very difficult man to say no to, and he's very touchy when it comes to this woman. I guess one of his lawyers suggested a background check and a prenup, and Joe almost fired him." James sighed. "Love makes men stupid."
Pacey thought about that for a second as they passed through the double doors. "Depends on the kind of love, I guess. The bad kind might make you stupid. Or maybe it depends on the woman. When you're with the right woman…" He sighed, a slight smile playing about his mouth. "Well, it can make you feel worthy and strong, happy and whole. And that's far from stupid. Being with the right woman is probably the smartest choice a man will ever make."
James smiled and nodded. "Wise words."
At nine-thirty, the last of the dessert orders went out, and everyone in the kitchen seemed to sag with fatigue and relief at once. Dominic started a round of applause. James high-fived the cooks, the dishwashers, and even the waitstaff currently lurking the kitchen in search of leftover food. Andrew and Richard passed around bottles of cold beer, and Pacey clinked his bottle to John's before gulping down a huge swallow. He was bathed in sweat, his feet hurt, and his back was threatening to riot.
He had done it. He'd gotten through it. And it had been a success.
Elated, Pacey went to his locker, grabbed his cell phone, and stepped out back behind the restaurant. The cool night air was a relief to his overheated skin. Seeing he had a message, he checked his voicemail. As his girlfriend's voice sounded in his ear, Charlie stepped through the back door to join him outside.
His heart had lurched when he heard Joey's voice and he felt slightly sick with longing to be with her, but the thought of skipping out on work and having gone to the party instead and letting James down also horrified him. The moment she began speaking, Pacey could sense this was not going to be a happy message. By the time it ended, his mouth had turned down in a frown.
"I know that I said that it's okay that you couldn't come to my party, but you know what? It's not okay because I miss you and… I don't want to lose you, lose us. You should've been here."
She wasn't angry, but there was hurt in her voice. It felt like razors scraping over his skin.
Anger, he could take—since they were kids, he'd always liked getting her riled up so she would banter with him. It'd been a teasing game, irritating her just enough so she would verbally tangle with him, as there had seemed to be no hope at the time of her ever physically tangling with him. But hurt—that was something else. He didn't want to hear that in her voice, see it in her eyes.
Pacey couldn't stand the thought of Joey being disappointed in him. It completely threw his world off kilter, made him want to hold her and soothe her until it was righted again. Most of the time, knowing one single person held the key to his happiness made him feel strong, assured, and only served to strengthen his devotion to her, the bond he felt with her. Suddenly the feeling was unsettling.
He'd been on cloud nine when he'd stepped out of the kitchen, over the moon about tonight's success. It was shocking how quickly happiness could turn to gloom.
"What's the matter?" Charlie asked.
Guilt nagged in his chest. He felt sick to his stomach. "Oh, you know... I just have an unhappy girlfriend on my hands. And if she's not happy, then I'm not happy." He ran his hand through his hair. "I have to find some way to make it up to her."
"So, is this party still happening, or…?"
He glanced at his watch. It was almost quarter to ten. "Um, it ends in a little over an hour."
"You've got time to make it to the party."
"I don't see how. I still have to clean up my station, help with closing. Besides, I smell like sweaty man and hot kitchen. Not a good combination for a party."
Charlie knowingly smiled. "Wait here."
Less than two minutes later, she returned carrying a large plastic container with a handle and one of the restaurant's Styrofoam to-go containers. The marking on top of the Styrofoam told him that was the same box he'd filled with the leftover truffle ravioli. After handing him the box, she opened the plastic container lid to reveal two dozen perfect chocolate cupcakes with chocolate frosting, and they spelled out, "I Am Sorry Happy Birthday." The message was spelled out with one letter written in white icing on each cupcake. The three extra cupcakes had pretty white flowers piped on them.
Pacey's mouth fell open. "You… you did this for me?"
"Well, I know all about the woes that come with having an unhappy girlfriend. And I am an apprentice pastry chef, after all," she grinned. Closing the lid, she handed him the container. "I had the ingredients, and the time. Thirty minutes at three-fifty, same as the dinner rolls. Two birds with one stone."
"I… I don't know what to say."
Charlie then reached into her pocket and pulled out her car keys. "You know how to drive stick?"
He blinked. "Uh, yes."
She pressed her keys into his left hand. "Take the Celica. You'll have time to clean yourself up and then get to the party."
"Don't you need your car? And I still have stuff I have to do before I can—"
"Gretchen's gonna pick me up when she gets out of work," she said with a smile. "And John said he'd clean up your station for you."
Pacey felt a rush of gratitude and relief. He pulled Charlie into a tight one-armed hug, careful to keep a firm grip on the container's handle. "Thank you," he whispered.
"You're welcome," she replied, pulling away from him. "Now hurry up and get going! You have just enough time to make it to that party!"
With a wide smile spreading across his face, Pacey thanked her again and took off for the employee parking lot.
He'd made it back to the apartment in just twelve minutes. Once he was home, he'd quickly rinsed off in the shower, then pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a red button-down shirt. Making sure he had his wallet and cell phone, he grabbed the gift box from his sock drawer, and slid it inside his pocket. After a ten-minute drive to Worthington, at half-past ten, he was pulling into the student lot closest to Plymouth Hall. His heart beat madly as he parked. Locking the Toyota, Pacey grabbed the two containers from the passenger seat.
Hurrying across the college green, as he approached Joey's residence hall, he came upon a familiar face sitting on the bench outside it. He drew closer and noticed the girl's slumped shoulders and general dejected demeanor.
"Andie?"
She looked up, eyes widening as she smiled. "Hey, Pacey! I thought you weren't coming."
He shrugged. "Yeah, well… so did I. But I made it."
"That's great. Joey will be happy."
"Speaking of happy, you don't look it, McPhee," he said, brows furrowing as he sat down on the bench beside her.
She sighed heavily. "Will's mad at me. I'm kinda in the doghouse."
He stared in surprise. "Will? Mad at you?" When she nodded, he leaned back against the bench. "Well, I'm pretty sure you're not the only one in the doghouse right now." He gave her a pointed look. "You got any room in yours? We could bunk up."
Andie offered a half-hearted smile. She tilted her head. "But if I know you, Pacey, I'm sure that's a grand romantic gesture that's guaranteed to get you out of the doghouse in no time."
He glanced down at the containers in his lap. "Well, it's not exactly grand, and I'm not sure how romantic it is, but it's definitely a gesture." He studied her a moment. "So… what's up with you and Will?"
"I stood him up." She shook her head as she buried her face in her hands for a second, and then looked up at him again. "We were supposed to go to the movies earlier this afternoon. I was with my study group at the library, and I had only intended on staying for a couple hours and then I was gonna go meet Will. But… I don't know. I was just having so much fun and time just got away from me… and I totally forgot. And Will was at the theater waiting for me, and… I just never showed. I feel like a jerk. He said it was okay and he understands stuff like that can happen, but… he's not happy with me. Things are kinda tense."
He took a deep breath. "Sounds familiar." He looked at the frown planted on her face. "You busy on Monday? Do you have classes in the morning?"
"Not on Mondays. I have a couple afternoon classes."
"Monday's my day off, and Joey has class in the morning. You wanna meet up for breakfast or something?"
Andie's eyes lit up, a smile breaking across her face. "Really?"
He returned her smile. "Yeah, really. We'll hang out and… you know, talk."
"I'd like that, Pacey."
"Good." He got off the bench, holding the plastic container handle with one hand and the Styrofoam in the other. "Just don't stand me up, McPhee."
She rolled her eyes, grinning as she lifted herself off the bench. "Ha. Ha."
They walked inside Plymouth Hall together.
In the foyer, Andie turned left, and Pacey went to the right, heading for Joey's dorm room. Using the spare key she'd given him, he deposited both containers on her bed, set the gift box on her desk, and then quickly left. He followed the sound of music down the hall, past the foyer, and toward the large common room. The first thing he noticed was the recognizable Beatles song and the multiple voices singing it. The second thing, as he moved to stand in the wide cased opening of the common room, was that the voices belonged to Joey and their friends.
Pacey smiled as he saw her. His heart actually swelled as he watched her singing, smiling, enjoying herself. She spent so much time either in her classes or studying for those classes, and hanging out with him at his apartment on his days off, that he'd started to worry she wasn't having fun like she should, enjoying college, enjoying Boston.
Their eyes met and the happiness that lit up Joey's face only made him smile harder. Her long dark brown hair cascaded over her shoulders. As he moved closer and closer to the front of the room, threading his way around the others watching, he listened to her voice as it echoed around him. Her eyes met his during certain lines of the song and he knew where her mind was as she sang. He felt as if his heart skipped a beat when her words died with the echo of the music and the noise of applause erupted in the room. Ecstatic, he clapped and cheered along with everyone else.
Joey handed the microphone to Jerami, and rushed to Pacey, throwing her arms around him. "You made it!"
"Just barely," he said, pulling her close, holding her tight. "I, uh, I got your message."
She pulled back just enough to look at him, and frowned, hoping he wasn't upset by it. "Pace, I—"
"No, it's okay, Jo. I—"
And then their friends were interrupting, saying their hellos. He gave Jen a hug, shook hands with Jack and Will.
"Well, well, well, looks like the imaginary boyfriend has finally materialized."
He turned to see a skinny black kid wearing tight blue jeans, a white T-shirt, and a black leather biker's jacket, smiling at him. "Um… who are you?"
Joey rolled her eyes, and then turned to her boyfriend. "Pacey, this is Alan. He has a room on the third floor and he's in a couple of my classes. Alan, this is Pacey."
"And this is Sabrina!" The boy pulled on the girl's arm to join them at his side, making her laugh.
"Hi," Pacey said to the girl with curly red hair and freckles, and she gave him a small wave.
"Girl, no wonder you didn't care about smacking right into Edward Doling with a boyfriend looking like that," Sabrina said to Joey. "Seriously," Alan muttered beside her.
"Who?" Pacey asked, confused.
Joey blushed as the two friends laughed. "That jerk I almost knocked over in the hallway a few weeks ago," she explained.
Then Alan smiled flirtatiously. "So, Pacey, I don't suppose you also bat for my team?"
"Geez!" Sabrina scolded, slapping him on the arm. "Hey, can you blame me?" he said to her.
"Don't mind them," Joey said, squeezing Pacey's hand.
"Uh…" Feeling slightly overwhelmed by the onslaught of new faces and their bubbly outgoingness, Pacey had no idea what to make of it at the moment. "No, I'm afraid not. I'm sorry."
Alan stared at Joey. "How are there no gay men at this party besides Jerami the RA? And not even any bisexuals to speak of! This is incredibly disappointing."
Pacey's brows furrowed. "But… Jack is here."
"Who's Jack?" Alan's eyes went wide with curiosity as he looked about the room.
"He was up there singing with me," Joey told him. "The one with dark hair."
"I thought he was straight."
"He's pretty gay."
"Are you sure?" Alan replied skeptically. "I mean, have you seen his shoes?"
She snickered. "I've known him a long time. I'm very sure. He's very gay."
Behind them, Jerami Grant was announcing the end of karaoke. Alan turned to Pacey. "So, do you sing?"
He shook his head. "I'm terrible, truly terrible."
"What you've got to remember, Pacey, is that the key to karaoke is your enthusiasm, even if you can't sing."
His eyes narrowed. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you're next," Alan said, clapping him on the back.
Sabrina took the microphone from a puzzled Jerami and handed it to Pacey, her grin full of challenge, and he visibly swallowed. "You want me to sing? In front of all these people? I really can't sing. It'll just be embarrassing."
"Honey, you're three hours late to your own girlfriend's birthday party," Alan said, his hand going to his hip. "Embarrassment is your due."
Pacey was then shoved to stand next to the TV screen. Joey mouthed I'm sorry at him, but she couldn't stop her giggles no matter how hard she tried. Moments later, the 'Happy Birthday' song appeared on the screen. Alan and Sabrina flanked Joey, with Jen and Jack and Andie standing close by, smiling at him. He pointed a finger at them all. "You were warned."
"Noted," Alan replied.
On the TV screen, an animated cake appeared with lit candles. Pacey then sang "Happy Birthday" very badly but with such gusto, not unlike how he'd sung karaoke at Aunt Gwen's house last year, it had everyone clapping and joining in. Joey's face had gone beet red over the evident embarrassment in his expression, but she laughed, her heart swelling with joy that he was there with her at her party.
When the song came to an end, Jerami reclaimed the microphone and announced the party was over. The common room had been reserved from eleven o'clock onward for an all-nighter Star Wars marathon. Someone shouted, "Nerds!" Everyone started to laugh, and then with a groan, the room cleared.
After she thanked her RA for throwing her such a fun party, Pacey grasped Joey's hand, threading their fingers as they left the common room. Walking through the foyer, their friends following behind them, Alan came up beside them and then turned around to walk backwards. "Party at Potter's!" he proclaimed to the small group, before heading for the stairs, Sabrina going with him.
Audrey unlocked the door, and the group of friends converged on the dorm room. With wide eyes, Joey's gaze fell on her bed. "What's this?"
"Uh, well, the to-go box is the dish I made at the restaurant tonight," Pacey answered as she lifted the Styrofoam off the mattress. "Thought you might like to try it."
As she opened the box, Audrey walked over. "That smells ah-mazing. I'm gonna go warm it up in the microwave," she said excitedly, taking it from her roommate.
He chuckled, and then turned his attention back to Joey as she lifted the plastic lid from the cupcakes. "And that…"
"Oh, Pacey!" Joey said, looking over the cupcakes with the apology written in icing. She melted inside. Then she blushed furiously. "I guess those cupcakes found a way to get baked, after all," she muttered.
He laughed and kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you," she said quietly, and then lifted her mouth for a real kiss.
While she started passing the cupcakes around, he collapsed on her bed. Soon Alan and Sabrina showed up, carrying a stack of blue Solo cups, 2-liter bottles of Hawaiian Punch, and a bottle of Vodka. "The party continues!" Alan announced cheerily.
Audrey then walked around the room carrying the open to-go box and a fistful of plastic forks, forcing everyone to try the ravioli. "Pacey, this is so good!" Joey praised, and his heart swelled with pride.
"You cooked this?" Alan said with raised brows. "And you brought chocolate cupcakes? Jesus, I need to start fucking a chef. Pronto. I never thought I'd say this, but I am so sick of pizza." He grinned at Pacey. "You sure you don't wanna at least try out for my team? It comes with all sorts of benefits."
He laughed. "No, I don't think so. But if I ever do, I promise you'll be the first one to know."
"Hey!" Jack shouted from the other side of the room, looking affronted.
"Oof." Pacey turned back to Alan. "Sorry, Jack has dibs. But you'll definitely be number two."
Grinning, Alan looked at Joey and winked. "I like this guy."
She blushed and gazed adoringly at her boyfriend, who returned her smile.
Sitting up in Joey's bed, Pacey watched her sitting on the floor beside him with Jen, Alan, and Sabrina. He glanced over at her roommate's bed, where Audrey sat with Jack, talking to Andie and Will, who were sitting on the floor next to them. They were all drinking from blue cups.
"So," Alan said to Joey, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Give me the four-one-one on your gay friend Jack."
"Well, he goes to Boston Bay College with Jen," she replied, tilting her head at her friend, who smiled and nodded.
"Hmm. Okay. Less than three miles away. Not bad. I can work with that. What else?"
"He has a boyfriend," Jen stated.
"So? That's never stopped me before. I like a challenge."
The redhead's mouth fell open and she let out a shock of laughter. "Oh, my God. You put the 'or' in man-whore, Alan."
"I try, Sabrina," he said with a smile. "I try." He turned his attention back to the other girls. "Well? What else? I need info before I make my big move."
"He played football in high school," Joey said with a shrug.
In an instant, Alan's smiles and carefree attitude disappeared. The golden caramel color drained from his boyishly handsome face, and he looked as if she'd just told him someone in his family had died. A sudden mixture of emotions danced in his dark eyes, before just as suddenly he was smiling again, his happy, carefree aura returning, his golden skin glowing.
"Girl, didn't you know? Football players are my weakness."
Eventually, Pacey dozed, unable to keep his eyes open any longer.
Alan looked over at him, sitting up in the twin bed, asleep. "Are you sure he's eighteen? He seems a lot older than us."
Joey watched Pacey for a moment, a sad smile playing about her mouth. "In a lot of ways, he's still a kid. But… in other ways, he's the most grown-up person I know. He has an old soul. It was probably a childhood of fending for himself at the hands of neglectful parents that matured him beyond his years.
"It's why he loves cooking, why he wants to be a cook. I think he associates food with being taken care of, and he wasn't taken care of. And the people who did actually make an effort to care for him, well… they fed him. Like, my parents. So, now I think he wants to make up for that, for what he didn't have. Now he just wants to take care of everybody. He wants to feed them."
"Is he really as good a guy as you always make him out to be?" Alan said, grinning.
"No." She smiled, eyes twinkling. "He's even better."
"You're so happy, it's disgusting," he teased, and then sighed. "Well, your sexy boyfriend is passed out, and you bitches are boring me to tears." Sabrina stuck her tongue out at him. "There is a hot gay male on the other side of the room, and that is where I need to be."
Joey watched Alan and Sabrina join Audrey and the others, where her roommate was apparently taking the lead in some sort of drinking game. She smiled at Jen. "So, how are you?"
"I'm pretty good," Jen said with a smile. "Life at Grams' house is as exciting as ever."
"Have you met anybody?"
"You mean like a guy?"
Joey grinned. "Yeah. Like a guy."
"Not really. I've been busy, you know? Some of my classes are a lot more intense than I anticipated. I've also been… going back to Capeside a lot."
She nodded her understanding. "So, how are the Leery's?"
"They're managing. Mitch gets physical therapy twice a week at the house. He can't walk, and it'll be quite some time before he can even stand up. I'm actually going down there in the morning. I usually go every Sunday. I help out as much as I can, mostly doing things around the house for Mrs. Leery so she doesn't have to do them. Like… cleaning the kitchen or doing laundry. That kind of thing. And then I just kind of… hang out with Dawson. You know, keep him company."
She felt a slight pang of guilt over her former best friend being excluded from her birthday celebration, but then the anger she still felt squashed that feeling. "Has he said anything about…"
Jen gave her a sad smile. "He knows he messed up big time. And he understands why you want him to stay away from you. Other than that, he doesn't say much, but I think he's doing okay. I think he's made his peace with it. As far as I can tell, anyway."
Joey didn't know how she felt about that. If Dawson truly felt remorse, wouldn't he at least try to contact her and make an attempt at a heartfelt apology? He had just… made his peace with their friendship being over? Without even making the slightest attempt at salvaging it? Maybe she just wasn't as important to him as he'd deluded himself into believing, as she'd deluded herself into believing for so many years.
"So… is he writing? He was working on a script, wasn't he?"
"He was…" Jen replied. "But he hasn't been writing lately. When he's not helping out with his dad at home, he's helping out at the restaurant. Sometimes he has a house painting job to do. But he is still taking pictures. We spend time in his dark room a lot."
Joey took a sip of spiked fruit punch, wondering if Jen hadn't met a guy because she already knew a guy. "So, tell me about these intense classes you're taking."
"Well, I foolishly decided on taking a Literature of the Middle Ages course," Jen said with a groan.
"Oh, wow."
"Yeah. And we're presently reading an ancient Greek novel by Longus called Daphnis and Chloe. It's a romance about eager and inept young love," she recited dramatically, and then laughed. "Have you read it?"
She shook her head. "Nope."
"Well, I have to write a paper about 'the fragility of love' that's due on Friday. I'd rather stab myself with scissors," Jen said, and Joey laughed.
Well after midnight, she started showing her friends to the door. Joey gave Andie and Jen hugs, before Jack pulled her into a tight embrace. "Happy birthday," he said again.
"Thanks, Jack."
"You're so nice," Alan gushed before smirking suggestively. "Did I tell you that I have a thing for football players?"
Jack gave him a deadpan look. "Good thing I'm not a football player anymore."
Jen snorted as her best friend rolled his eyes and walked out of the room. "Don't mind him. It takes him a while to warm up to new people," she said.
Joey threw her a look of confusion. "It does?"
"Besides, he really does have a boyfriend," Jen concluded, ignoring her.
Alan gave her a look. "Yeah, in North Carolina. Did you know the hardest erections a man will have in his life are at the age of eighteen? Not to mention his ability to have repeat performances? He is in his prime fucking years, and to tie himself down with some long-distance thing? Am I supposed to just sit by and let that fine specimen of a man go to waste like this? To waste decent cock would go against everything I stand for. He is an opportunity that I simply refuse to pass up."
Sabrina's golden-brown eyes rolled. "Big surprise there."
"Well, you're not exactly Jack's type," Jen said with a laugh.
"Girl, I am everyone's type!" He leaned around Joey, and waggled his perfectly-shaped black eyebrows. "Right, Pacey?"
They all turned to look at her still-sleeping boyfriend lying on her bed. "Shh!" Joey laughed breathlessly. "Don't wake him up," she hissed.
"All right, all right."
Giggling, Jen gave her one last hug, saying goodbye, and walked out of the room. Alan and Sabrina also said goodbye and then followed behind her.
Pacey had no idea how long he had slept when he was startled awake. He felt someone pulling on his shirt. He blinked, bringing his vision back into focus. Joey stood over him.
"What time is it?" he asked sleepily. "Do I gotta go?"
"Almost two. And no, you're spending the night," she told him, undoing the last of the buttons.
"Okay," he breathed, and then closed his eyes once more, immediately falling back asleep.
After gently pulling his arms out of the sleeves, leaving his white tank undershirt on, she folded the button-down and set it on the mattress. Joey then pulled his shoes off his feet. "Poor guy, he's so exhausted."
"Well, he works crazy hours," Audrey said as she sat cross-legged at the end of her bed. "He certainly wasn't up to partying. He stayed awake… what, half an hour?"
Joey stood and went back to unzipping his jeans and pulling them off his hips. "Sorry about this."
"Hey, I've seen the guy naked. Boxers and an A-shirt aren't gonna bother me," Audrey assured her.
As she folded his pants, she found his cell phone and wallet in his pockets. When she carried both jeans and red shirt over to set them down in the wooden chair at her desk, her eyes fell on a rectangular, gift-wrapped box. She picked up it up. The tag read, "Love, from Pacey."
Her roommate's brows lifted. "Ooh. Looks like jewelry. Whenever a guy is in trouble, expect jewelry, girlfriend."
"He's not in trouble, Audrey. And it's probably just my birthday gift."
"Like I said, jewelry."
She thought about it for a moment, staring at the box in her hands. Jewelry didn't seem likely to her.
"Well, are you gonna open it?"
"No, I'll wait for the morning when he's awake," she said before setting the wrapped box back down on her desk.
After dressing down into a tank top and underwear, Joey brushed her teeth, and then left the bathroom. Shutting off the light, immediately darkening the room, she climbed into her bed beside Pacey, urging him onto his side and spooning him from behind. "I love you," she whispered softly into his ear. She sighed deeply and pressed her lips to his shoulder as she snuggled in.
His eyes fluttered open. He felt her arms around him, holding him close. Warmth and contentment spread through his body. "I'm sorry I haven't made enough time for you lately. I'm sorry I missed your party. I don't wanna lose you, lose us," he whispered, remembering the voicemail on his phone. "This is it. Us. You and me. If I don't have you, then I don't want anyone."
"You're not going to lose me, Pacey," she whispered back.
"You're not going to lose me either, Jo."
Pacey's contented sigh and the way he pushed his rear into her lap told her this was exactly where he wanted to be. He quickly fell back to sleep. Holding him close, Joey drifted off, hoping those were promises they'd actually be able to keep, despite all the forces beyond their control in the unknown future that lay in front of them.
September 23. Sunday dawned, and eventually Pacey opened his eyes. He took a deep breath and looked about the room, getting his bearings. Audrey Liddell was sitting on her bed, painting her toenails with red polish, and humming along with an Incubus song coming from the radio that played at a low volume beside her bed. Joey wasn't in the room.
"Um…"
Audrey's head shot up. "Hey, sleepyhead, you're awake. Finally."
He rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?"
"Almost ten-thirty."
"Where's Joey?"
"At the library. Where else?" she said with an eye roll. "She was already gone when I woke up, but that's where she always is."
He snorted. Glancing over at his girlfriend's desk, he saw his gift box, still wrapped. An idea came to mind, and he turned to smile at Audrey. "Is it okay if I use your shower?"
"Fine, just don't leave any gross guy stuff behind."
"I promise I'll clean up after myself."
Getting out of bed, Pacey walked over to the desk and retrieved his jeans and red button-down shirt. Once he had showered and dressed, he stepped back into the room. His girlfriend still hadn't appeared. Audrey was flipping through a magazine.
"Okay, so, if Joey shows up, just tell her to wait for me, okay?" he said as he slipped into his shoes. Then he grabbed the birthday gift and slid it into his pocket. "I'll be back in a bit."
"Sure thing."
As he walked across the college green towards the parking lot, he pulled out his cell phone and called Charlie, making plans to return her car keys when he saw her at work this afternoon. After a quick drive down Huntington Avenue to Piccolina Café and Bakery, he returned to the Worthington campus. Back inside Plymouth Hall, he knocked on dorm room one-twenty-seven.
The door opened, and Joey stood there smiling at him. "Hey."
"Hey," he said, taking her hand in his and entwining their fingers. "Come with me."
Her gaze swept over him, and her heart fluttered. He looked so handsome. He was also obviously hiding something behind his back. Her brows knitted with curiosity. "Okay…"
As Joey stepped outside the room, she saw that Pacey held a wicker basket in his other hand. A red and white checkered blanket was tucked on top of it. "Are we going on a picnic?" she asked with a smile.
"That we are, Jo."
It was a beautiful sunny day. Fluffy white clouds dotted the blue sky. The manicured lawn was lush and healthy. Students milled about, walking to and fro, or sat on the grass, some alone, others clustered in small groups. Pacey found a spot some distance away from other people on the green, and laid the blanket down on the grass. Feeling giddy, Joey kicked off her sandals and sat down on the blanket.
Pacey opened the basket from Piccolina's, revealing a large salad to share, two individual margherita pizzas, two chocolate chip cookies, and a bottle of sparkling grape juice. "I tried to get away with keeping the wine that came with the basket, but they carded me," he joked.
"When do you have to be to work?"
"Later. Let's not talk about work."
She pursed her lips while she dished up the salad onto two plates. "Well… okay. What do you want to talk about?"
"We could talk about that voicemail you left me." He took a bite of salad, and noticed her frowning. "You said you missed me," he stated after he'd finished chewing.
Her throat tightened. Pacey then took the time to open the bottle of sparkling juice and pour two glasses, kindly giving her a moment to collect her thoughts.
"I just feel like… we're not spending a lot of time together. I get that I have classes during the day, and you work at night. But you're also going down to Capeside a lot. We had plans for lunch, and those were broken. You were going to come to my party, and then you couldn't. It's just… you said you were hired to work five nights a week, but you've actually been working six. And I also feel like… we're just not really talking like we used to."
She suddenly felt dangerously close to tears. "And I'm not saying it's all your fault. I mean, I bring my books and assignments to your apartment and then I bury my nose for hours. I'm not paying you attention either. And then when we finally do get some alone time, all we do is…"
"Have sex?"
Her cheeks warmed. "Yeah. Not that that isn't great, but…"
He nodded, giving her a small smile of understanding.
"We used to, you know, go out and do things together, Pacey. I want to go out and see this beautiful city, absorb what Boston has to offer, but I want to do that with you." Tears stung her eyes as she remembered the conversation with Audrey the night before. "We just… we have to make the time for each other, or we'll just drift apart."
"You're right, Jo. We need to make the time. And it's not as though I don't want to spend the time. I always want to be with you. But then… things happened this week… at the restaurant, and—"
She shook her head, and reached for his hand. "I know, Pacey. I know your job is important to you. I know you love it there. And it makes me so happy that you're doing so well. That you've found something you love to do, and I'm proud of you. You make me so proud, every day."
Blushing, he smiled.
"I think we just need to figure out how to balance it all. Between school and your job, I don't want to lose what we have. We went through so much and worked so hard to build this relationship, and I… don't want it to slip away. We should at least make time to talk about what's going on in our lives."
"I agree. We'll figure it out, Jo. And yeah, you're right. I mean, there's so much I don't know about your life right now. Like… how long have you been friends with that Alan character? And Sabrina?"
She wiped the corners of her eyes, and smiled. "You really wanna know about them?"
"Of course, I do!"
"Well, okay. But then you have to tell me everything about your night at the restaurant."
They spent the next half hour eating while they talked and laughed.
As Joey started collecting their plates and utensils from the blanket, Pacey reached into the basket and wrapped his hands around the rectangular gift box. Her eyes sparkled as he handed it over to her.
"Happy birthday, Jo."
Her heart beating like mad, she reached for the box, and then unwrapped the shiny blue paper. She lifted the lid. Cushioned inside the box was a sleek, expensive-looking sterling silver pen. A dedication was engraved on its side: p loves j.
Her heart swelled. "Oh, Pacey. I love it."
A smile spread across his face. "There's more."
"More? In this box?" She didn't see how.
"Yep."
Joey removed the cushion from the box. Jaw dropping, she lifted out two cards: one was a Boston Public Library card with her name etched onto it, and the other was a card boasting annual membership to the Gardner Museum. "Oh, Pace. This is so thoughtful. But… the Gardner Museum? How much did this cost?"
He waved it off. "That's not important. I'm making good money. What's important is that I thought you'd like to…" He searched his memory for the spiel given him by the older woman at the counter. "To join a community of fellow art lovers and have access to the Gardner through free admission, exhibitions, programs, and concerts. I figured it'd give you good reason to go out and see the city, and the Gardner membership comes with complimentary day passes, so… you know, I could go with you. We could… make it a date."
"Thank you so much!" Sitting on her knees, she threw her arms around him and kissed him soundly with an intensity that heated his blood and left him breathing hard. "I love you, Pacey."
"I love you, too." He pulled her tight against him, and leaned close to her ear. "But if you kiss me like that again, no matter where we are, even outside in broad daylight amongst your fellow college students, we're not gonna stop until I make you co—"
She clapped a hand over his mouth, hastily looking around, hoping no one heard. "You're outrageous, Pacey Witter."
"Me? I'm not the one who makes up words like… kissgasm."
"Shh! Somebody's going to hear you."
He chuckled. "You started it with that kiss, Potter."
Fighting a smile, Joey leaned into him, her arm around his shoulders, fingers running through his brown curls. "This hair's getting a little wild."
He laughed breathlessly. "I need to get it cut."
She pouted. "I wish you didn't have to go work. I wish I could sexile Audrey from the room for a change and take you back to bed with me."
"I'm wishing that, too," he grinned, before pressing his lips to hers, kissing her softly.
They kissed again at her door when it was time for him to leave for work. "Will I see you later tonight?"
"Probably not, Jo. I'm just gonna go home and crash. You still coming over tomorrow after your classes?"
"Yeah," she said with a smile.
"The Red Sox have a home game tomorrow night. You wanna go?"
She scrunched up her face. "Baseball?"
"We gotta go to Fenway at least once, Jo. Come on. James gave me a bunch of tickets. We could invite everybody to go with us?"
"Well…" She grasped his hands and swung their arms. "That could be fun."
Grinning, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Bye, sweetheart. See you tomorrow."
Her heart full of love, Joey watched him go.
When Pacey arrived at the Ambrosia, he was greeted by a displeased Dominic. "You're twenty minutes late."
"I know."
"And you skipped out last night, leaving Valenzuela to clean up your station."
"I volunteered to do that, Chef," John interjected.
Dominic fixed a steely look in the prep cook's direction, and the young man withered. Then he turned his attention back to Pacey. "Care to explain yourself?"
The kitchen went quiet. The silence was deafening. Everyone was staring at him. Sean Sullivan looked delighted. After what seemed an eternity but was actually only a few seconds, Pacey spoke.
"If you recall, you promised me last night off because I had a personal commitment. But when Olivia and Armando went out, I didn't insist on keeping my night off. I still came into work because you guys needed me and I didn't want to let you down. Instead, I let someone else down. Someone very important to me. So, yeah, I left early, because despite whatever was going on here at the restaurant, that personal commitment hadn't changed. And as much as I don't want to let any of you down, letting down the woman in my life is something I just can't do.
"And yes, I was late today. Because I couldn't be there for her last night like I'd promised, I needed to make up for that. I'm sorry if my lateness has thrown things off in the kitchen. I'll do whatever I can to make up for it and fix whatever it may have disrupted, but I'm not going to apologize for choosing my family over my job."
Dominic's stare was hard, but Pacey's tone brooked no argument. "Change into your uniform and get to work."
"Yes, Chef."
Less than ten minutes later, Pacey was carrying the container of white truffles out of the walk-in refrigerator and over to his station at the long counter.
After the team meeting ended, he followed James to the manager's office. "I wanted to talk to you about my schedule."
"Okay," Mr. Moore said as he sat down at the desk.
His stomach fluttered with nerves. "Well, when you hired me, you said I'd be working five nights a week, but… that hasn't exactly panned out. Working six nights is just… too much right now. I'm… neglecting things I shouldn't be neglecting."
James nodded and folded hands on the desk. "I know things have been crazy around here. We're in limbo without a manager, and now Armando is out. Look, when he gets back, I promise you'll drop down to five nights a week. Does that work?"
Relief spread through him, although he thought he saw disappointment in Mr. Moore's eyes. "Yeah. That'll work fine."
Sunday night at the restaurant wasn't nearly as hectic as Saturday, but with a full reservation book, it was busy and the work steady. Along with his normal prep duties on the line, Pacey prepared all the truffle ravioli orders. Chef Tucci thought they'd turned out even better than the night before, and the rest of the kitchen staff concurred after sampling the dish. Even Sean had begrudgingly agreed.
Maybe he'd had a lot more feelings to add to the food.
When it was almost ten o'clock, Tiffany the waitress popped into the kitchen. "Hey, Pacey. Mr. Moore wants to see you. He's with Joseph O'Donnell."
Nodding, he removed the apron from around his waist. He knew the business tycoon had dined once again at the restaurant that night and had brought his fiancée. They'd both ordered the truffle ravioli along with some other items off the menu.
He donned the ridiculous white chef's hat, and left the kitchen. He soon spotted James and Mr. O'Donnell all the way across the restaurant standing near the entrance. He began walking towards them. He managed to cross almost the entirety of the dining room before realizing that the men stood talking to Tamara Jacobs.
Seeing her caused an immediate, visceral reaction within Pacey, something like a lightning strike. He was surprised by the intensity of the emotion—and at the nausea he now suddenly felt.
"Pacey!" James called out at seeing him, causing Tamara to turn in his direction, her eyes widening in shock at the sight of him.
He hastily pulled the absurd hat from his head and tried to ignore her, keeping his gaze trained steadily on the men. "Hi, Mr. O'Donnell. How are you?"
"Fine, fine. Excellent meal tonight. That ravioli was superb. Really it was."
"Thank you. I appreciate that."
The man turned to Tamara. "I'd like you to meet my fiancée," he said, before introducing them.
She smiled and stuck out her hand. She didn't appear to be worried or nervous, and actually seemed pleased to see him.
Although relieved Tamara was seemingly pretending not to know him, he hesitated to shake her hand. He didn't want to touch her. The nausea wasn't abating. "Uh, my hands are greasy from the kitchen," he said, making an excuse, rubbing his palms on the front of his chef's coat.
"Darling, Pacey and I know each other," she said to her fiancé.
His eyes popped. No. What was she doing?
"Is that so?" James asked, surprised.
"I was his English teacher when I lived on Cape Cod. Your sophomore year, wasn't it?"
Unbidden memories began assaulting him. "Uh…" He coughed, swallowing against the tightness in his throat. "Yeah."
"Well, isn't this a small world? Jamie here keeps telling me what a tremendous talent he is."
"Oh, really? Yes, well, Pacey was also… very talented… when he was in my class." Tamara eyed him appraisingly, licking her lips, and James shot him a suspicious glance. Pacey tried not to make eye contact with his boss, or with any of them.
"He was my favorite student. The best student I ever had… not that I was a teacher for very long. And if my memory serves me right, I believe you once told me that I was the best teacher you ever had. Isn't that so, Pacey?"
"Uh…" He wished she'd stop saying his name. He felt sick. His face was burning. He wanted to run away. James was now watching him with keen interest, and throwing curious glances in Tamara's direction. "Well…"
"How old are you now, Pacey?" she asked.
The unwanted memories kept flooding back. He could see her clear as day in his mind, teaching him. He could see her move over him, under him—showing him. He could hear her whispers and her throaty words—instructing him. His balls tingled, a lick of heat rose in his groin, and another sick feeling rushed through his gut. He felt like he was going to puke, or burst into tears. Maybe both.
His throat had closed up. He couldn't speak. He had to escape.
"Um, he's eighteen," James answered after an awkward silence, casting an inquisitive glance at Pacey.
Tamara smiled, and he saw heat in her eyes. She was obviously remembering, too. It sickened him. "I really have to be getting back to the kitchen. I'm glad you enjoyed the meal tonight."
Pacey abruptly turned and walked off before anything else could be said, but not before noticing Mr. O'Donnell's confused expression and James's look of concern. The combination of inwardly dying from mortification, the purely male and visceral reaction at seeing Tamara again, and the very real fear that he had possibly just seriously jeopardized his reputation in Mr. Moore's eyes, caused him actual physical pain.
He returned to the kitchen and took his place at the counter, ready to start cleaning his station. But as he picked up his chef's knife, another wave of nausea hit him. It was one he knew he was powerless to fight off. He dropped the knife and rushed back out through the double doors. He made it to the bathroom as the wave rolled over him again. He dropped to his knees and just managed to get his head over the toilet bowl in time. He was sick, retching violently.
When his stomach had finally settled, he stepped out of the bathroom stall and stood at the sink. He rinsed his mouth out, and splashed cold water on his face. Pacey stared at his reflection in the mirror, fighting back tears. Steeling himself, he left the bathroom and returned to the kitchen.
Spotting Charlie cleaning up her pastry station, he walked over to her. "Hey," he said in a low voice. "You got Listerine in your bag, right?"
"Yeah."
She left the kitchen, no doubt heading for her locker, and then returned with a small bottle of mouthwash. "Thanks."
"Hey, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," he lied.
Once he'd rinsed with the Listerine over the dish room sink, he gave the bottle back to Charlie. Then he threw himself into cleaning up his work station. After only a few minutes, James appeared.
"Pacey… you all right?"
"Yeah, sure," he said, not looking at his boss, keeping his eyes glued to the task in front of him.
"John said you were puking your guts out in the men's room."
Pacey stopped and stared at his fellow prep cook, giving him a chastised look. The New Yorker gave him a yikes expression and shrugged helplessly.
"I must've ate something that didn't sit right. I'm fine."
"You ate something made in this kitchen that made you so sick you vomited? That's not something a restaurant owner really wants to hear, Pacey."
He chuckled nervously, but had no real response to that.
"Did something upset you? Was it that woman?"
"What?" Pacey laughed with denial as he continued scrubbing the counter with the soapy sponge. "That's… I mean, that's ridiculous." He hoped he sounded a lot more convincing to Mr. Moore than he did to his own ears.
"What woman?" John asked, his black eyebrows shooting up.
Closing his eyes, he shook his head and sighed.
"Pacey, go home."
"I'm fine, James. I can finish here. I can help close up the kitchen."
The man stilled his hand, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Pacey, you were literally just throwing up in the bathroom, and then you walked back into my kitchen. Think about that for a second. Not exactly sanitary."
He sighed in defeat, and tossed the sponge onto the counter.
"I'll see you on Tuesday."
After shucking off his uniform at his locker, Pacey walked out the back door to the alley, and made his way to the bus stop. He boarded the very next bus that pulled up. He didn't know where the bus was headed, but that was fine as long as it was away from the Ambrosia. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he closed his eyes, trying to fight back the thoughts and emotions threatening to overwhelm him.
Time passed, and Pacey really had no idea how long he'd been riding. He'd certainly stayed on well past any stops in South Boston, but he didn't mind. He found he didn't want to go back to the loft apartment. His heart constricted, and again he fought back the tears. He just wanted Joey. He looked around, trying to figure out where in the city he was.
"Does this bus go up Huntington?" he called to the driver.
"Yeah."
"How long 'til we get there?"
"We was just there a few minutes ago."
Damn. "How long 'til we get around there again?"
"Oh, about an hour."
Great. "Thanks."
Eventually he made it to the Worthington bus stop. This late at night, the campus was quiet, although well-lit. He followed the paths across the college green, making his way to Plymouth Hall. He used the spare keycard to get in the locked building, and then quietly walked to Joey's room. It was after midnight, and he knocked lightly on the door, not wanting to wake up anyone in the other rooms. He waited a minute, knocked again, and then finally decided to use his spare key.
All was dark and quiet inside. His eyes adjusted, and he saw both girls were sleeping in their beds. Without a word, he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his jeans, his eyes never leaving his girlfriend. She woke up when he slid into bed beside her.
Surprised, she turned to look at him. "Pacey?" His blue eyes were wet with tears. His chin trembled, and when he spoke, his voice shook as well.
"Joey…"
He crumbled, his face twisting in silent agony as tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision. He felt her warmth and he smelled her sweetness. He buried his face in her chest and that was when he finally cried. He fell apart, unwanted images still surfacing, feelings surfacing that he could no longer suppress.
"Pacey, what's wrong? What's happened?"
Tears pricked her own eyes as Joey held him tight against her. She held his head and gently caressed his hair. The lamp on Audrey's bedside stand turned on, and she saw her roommate sitting up in bed, staring at her, jaw dropping, eyes wide with worry and concern. Her stomach knotted with her own worry as she met Audrey's gaze and shook her head.
Pacey couldn't speak, couldn't explain. His throat had completely closed up. Joey didn't move, or hurry him. She was like a rock there, holding him, anchoring him to the world. He heard her voice, a whisper telling him that he could talk about it in the morning. When he'd finally cried himself out, his body had never felt so tired. It was pure and absolute exhaustion. He could barely keep his eyes open.
Then he felt Joey rubbing his back and smoothing his hair and whispering sweet words of comfort in his ear until he fell asleep in her arms.