Preparing for a wedding
*Flashback - 5 Years earlier*
Dawson and I had made a deal. We had decided to have our Bachelorette and Bachelor parties on the same night. As so many of Dawson's family had traveled from across the country, we kept it close to the wedding, so they only had to make one trip to Boston.
Of course, this had its benefits, but also its drawbacks.
The battles began; over Pacey. He was both our best friends, so the idea that he wasn't able to spend the night celebrating with us both was contentious. We finally came up with a compromise. Dawson could have him until 10 pm, and then he could come to my Bachelorette for the rest of the evening.
"Are you saying, I get to come and witness the inner workings of multiple fine females as the only male at a Bachelorette party?" hand to his chest, he looked ready to faint. "Will there be pillow fights?" He crossed both his fingers and squeezed his eyes shut.
"Dude, you're married," Dawson scolded.
"True, but there is certainly no harm in being a bystander. I could pass more pillows, fluff them, hold the underwear?"
"Chill guys, I'm like 99% sure that it will be pillow fight free," I added.
"I live for that 1% Potter," he replied with a devious wink.
"And who's to say you will be the only male there?" Jen interrupted, "There might be a nice policeman, fireman or postal workers to keep us company with some tasteful dancing."
I screwed up my nose, "Postal worker? Jen, you know how I feel about surprises, please don't surprise me with a Postal worker stripper."
"I don't understand why there aren't more male strippers dressed in chef's whites? It just seems so logical to me?" Pacey added, questioning.
Jen snorts, "You wish buddy."
"It's Joey's big night, I think she gets to choose her stripper's outfit and I think she would choose a chef for sure," Pacey quipped back to Jen.
"I'm standing right here."
They both looked at me, brows furrowed. "Could I ever forget you're beside me Jo?" Pacey wrapped his arm around my shoulders and squeezed me against him in a friendly hug, "Come on, tell her Jo, stripper chef is what you want."
I rolled my eyes.
Dawson just shook his head. Sometimes I wished he would care about the banter. Show a little jealousy. Nope. Not Dawson. He had been conditioned over so many years with this kind of back and forth between us that it barely registered anymore. He believed that his love was all I needed. Always.
Soulmates.
He trusted me completely. The truth was, I just never trusted myself with Pacey.
And, of course, Pacey was married now. Happily, it seemed. He and Audrey had been married for around 18 months. The infamous Christmas engagement that lasted seven days before a surprise wedding. Yes. We were all undoubtedly surprised. Myself, maybe most of all. Perhaps, when Dawson asked me to marry him six months later, it was the push I needed to say "Yes."
Perhaps.
"Will Audrey still make it for the wedding?" Dawson asked.
"She's planning on finishing up work tomorrow night and driving down." Pacey and Audrey lived in New York now. It was where Audrey worked in PR for celebrities, and Pacey could run his new restaurant.
Jen walked up to Pacey and handed him a card, "this has the information on the location and things you need to know. Do NOT share this information with the doe-eyed amazon beside you," she pointed at me, "it is a surprise, and she needs to let go of control for one night and relax and enjoy. See you at 10," She smiled then glared, came close and whispered to me, "Don't you dare try to fish information out of him, he is weak to your charms, and you know it."
Pacey squinted. Did he hear that?
"See you tonight girls and boy, have a fun night Dawson!" Jen waved and was out the door.
I glanced at the clock. 10.22.
"I saw that!" Jen mouthed at me across the room. I took another big drink.
We'd been playing bridal games, eating takeout and drinking large cocktails with phallus straws. I was still wearing my toilet paper veil, adorned with beautiful penis stickers across the headband.
Finally, there was a knock at the door. Pacey had arrived already tipsy, animatedly talking to Jen and charming all the girls. I felt a sigh of relief at the sight of his face.
"Do not fear ladies, your entertainment is here!" he announced.
I pulled up next to Jen, "please tell me he is not our stripper."
"Yeah right, you'd really hate that," she looked at me, knowingly.
"Oh shut up," I snapped, "Bygones, he's married now, and I'm getting married, all water under the bridge."
Why, why did I have to tell her about that night at the club and my feelings toward him? It was years ago. Surely she realized I was over it. Because I was. I was.
"The DASHING bride," he appeared beside me, twirling me around. "Stunning! I love the cocks. They really bring out your eyes."
I stared at him, parted my mouth, licked my lips and slowly took a long sip from my purple penis straw. He eyed me, delighted and challenged.
"How was Dawson's, was anyone shaved and naked yet?"
"No, no, no Miss Potter," He tapped my nose, "What happens at Dawson's Bachelor night stays at Dawson's bachelor night. There most certainly is not a slightly weathered stripper performing questionable tricks in the penthouse involving shaving cream and lighters too close to smoke detectors."
"Really?" I questioned.
Pacey laughs, "Relax, it's Dawson, they're sitting in a hotel watching movies and slowly getting drunk. Booooorring." He nudged my side, "I couldn't wait to get out of there," he added.
"Okay, the pillow flights can start now…" He announced to the room, looking around, expectantly. The group of girls just collectively rolled their eyes.
"Nope," Jen passed him a drink with a blue cock straw, "We're going out soon. First, we are going to play one more game, and we need you," she dragged Pacey over into the lounge, pressing him up against the wall.
"Are you all going to devour me one by one?" he rubbed his hands together hopefully.
"Nope," Jen pulled his head down and strapped a cardboard mask to his face. He straightened, and we all burst out laughing when we realized it was Dawson's face. Complete with eyes cut out. Rather creepy.
"We're playing pin the dick on Dawson!" Jen announced.
Pacey backed up further.
"Relax it's not a pin, it's just double-sided tape."
"I find this cruel and demeaning," came Pacey's muffled voice from behind the mask. But he didn't move. Didn't attempt to take it off. He leaned down and pushed the dickstraw through Dawson's mouth hole and took a drink, settling back.
The girls each took a differently colored penis, all different shapes and sizes and had their turn. They attacked him, blindfolded and spinning, until Pacey was adorned with dicks as high as his armpits and as low as his knees. I couldn't stop laughing.
Then it was my turn. "Okay, finally the bride," Jen motioned over to me, wrapped a scarf over my eyes and handed me my gold glitter penis, largest of them all.
"Go easy, Potter," Pacey quipped.
She spun me around, which, considering the amount of alcohol in my veins, was entirely unnecessary. When Jen straightened me, I struggled to stand still. Arms reached out, I searched for my target. The laughs from everyone grew as I touched the television and missed 'Dawson' completely. Jen adjusted me again in the right direction and sent me on my way. I felt out in front of me, a chest. I ran my hands across his broad chest and shoulders, trying to get some perspective of distance. I could hear him make a sharp intake of breath, I unconsciously made one too.
"Hey," Jen yelled, "No touching! Put out your hand and stick it on."
I put my hand out where I thought the appendage belonged and gently pressed—another breath.
I pulled off my mask as everyone was laughing, clapping and cheering for me. I'd done pretty well. I'd attached it just to the right of his fly… very close. Very, very close.
I was the clear winner.
"And the Bride wins the prize," said Jen clapping. "A kiss from Dawson."
I could see Pacey's cheeks raise under the mask, grinning. I glared at Jen.
"Come-on!" yelled Bianca, "kiss your fiancé."
I turned, stood on the tips of my bare feet, placed my hands on those broad shoulders and kissed the cardboard face mask of Dawson. Pacey leaned in.
Cheers erupted. I rolled my eyes for all to see.
Pacey pulled off the mask a little sheepishly and looked down at his body covered by colored penises.
"Okay, everyone get changed. We're going OUT!" Jen announced.
I balled my hands into fists to stop them from shaking.
Jen escorted us into the dimly lit club named 'Nights of Arabia' and took us over to a table marked as reserved. Topless waiters presented me with a goblet full of iridescent pink punch and sat me down at the end of the table in a large golden throne. Classy. I'd thought the pink, flashing sash with BRIDE TO BE on it was the worst. I was wrong.
Pacey was looking around mildly horrified as topless waiters passed him a drink. "I think we swapped the times around wrong, I should have done yours first and Dawson's second."
"Too bad, so sad," said Jen and sat him in a chair.
"Not sure if you've noticed Pacey, but you're the only male in here. The club is full of women in skimpy dresses. Not one other guy… except of course the strippers, and they don't count," said Bianca.
He looked around, suddenly fascinated.
"You're right, okay I take it back," shuffling back into his chair and making himself comfortable.
"You're married," I reminded him.
"Yeah, yeah. You will be too in 48 hours … so remember, we can look, but we can't touch," he gestured to the topless waiter beside me, fanning me with a faux palm frond.
The lights dimmed, and the stage illuminated, smoke machines filling it from the sides. Ginuwine's 'Pony' started playing, and four uniformed men burst out onto the stage to maniacal screams from the audience. I grabbed the bottle of vodka in front of me and poured a shot, downing it quickly. Pacey picked up his glass and gestured towards me. I filled his up too.
The men danced, they gyrated, they stripped down to g-strings, danced and gyrated some more. A firefighter came onto the stage and grabbed a microphone, "Okay ladies, I hear there are some very special guests here tonight," my heart stopped.
Oh shit.
"Our first lucky lady Josephine Potter I believe, is about to be married. Are you out there, Joey?" He looked into the crowd.
Shit. Shit.
I pondered if it was too late to hide under my chair?
Everyone at our table started cheering. Pacey screamed the loudest, he grabbed my glass and poured another shot, pushing it towards me. I took it, tossed it back, and dragged myself out of my chair and onto the stage.
Mr. Firefighter took my hand and led me to a chair in the center of the stage. I tried to sit carefully. My skirt was very short. I hadn't anticipated this. I shut my eyes. Tight.
"Miss Potter, tell me," he walked around the chair, "Who is the lucky man?" pushing the microphone into my face and lifting my hand to the crowd to display my ring.
"Um, Dawson Leery," the crowd cheered again. I wished the stage would sink. I wanted to be devoured by a black hole. Anything to get me out of this.
"Well, Josephine, I'm going to make you forget all about your fiancé," he dropped the microphone, and the music started. He circled me, like prey. Running his hands down my arms, facing the crowd. I could smell his coconut body oil. Thrusting into my sides, gyrating against me with fancy dance moves. I wouldn't look down at my table. I couldn't. This would all be over soon.
He spun me out of the chair and gently laid me on the ground while simulating more sex positions than I'd ever experienced with Dawson over the years. I tried to cover my eyes. He pulled my hands back and ran them over his rippling muscles instead. I took a breath.
Thankfully, the song came to an end, and he finished by picking me up, throwing me over his shoulder and spinning me around. I was certain I was going to vomit.
My underwear was showing, I was sure of it. A lacy black thong.
Face hot with embarrassment; I returned to the table. Jen is crying with laughter. "Oh my GOD, Joey." She held up her phone, "I got it all on video so you can watch it later," I started to wonder if she is drunker than I am. I put my face in my hands.
I could see in my peripheral vision Pacey, back against the chair. Very still. I was too scared to look at him, mortified. I didn't need to hear his comments. Not now.
I picked up the vodka and took a drink straight from the bottle.
"Quite the performance," he quipped. Unsmiling. His eyes were dark.
"If you think I enjoyed ANY of that, you are kidding yourself," I threw back with venom. How dare he berate me?
"Did you realize everyone could see your underwear?" he asked.
I stood and ran for the bathroom.
I tried to vomit. I could stick my fingers down my throat but didn't think I had the willpower. I sat on the toilet lid, the room spinning.
"Potter?" Pacey's voice called through the open doorway.
"Fuck off!" I yelled back. "This is the ladies' bathroom."
"I'm not coming in. I'm just checking you're okay." He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, I was being an ass."
"Leave me alone!" I yelled, and the door closed.
I stayed for five minutes and tried to calm myself. I was embarrassed, drunk and didn't want to go back out there.
When I finally opened the bathroom door, Pacey was there, waiting for me, leaning against the wall.
"Wanna get some fresh air?"
I nodded.
We walked down the street a little until we are out of earshot of the security guards.
Pacey looked down, running his fingers through his hair, frustrated and nervous. "I'm sorry, I know you were embarrassed. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I wasn't mad at you. I was mad at the situation."
I didn't know what to say.
"I just didn't like it," he paused, "I didn't like watching that. At all."
What does that mean?
He searched for words for a moment, "You're my oldest friend Joey, and I hate to watch you demeaned, embarrassed. I wanted to stop it, but I realize it's all supposed to be fun. I'm sorry, I overreacted."
"You're not my protector," I said. His eyes bored directly into mine, and he stepped towards me.
"I am well aware of that Joey, thank you for the reminder."
"You're married," I am baiting him now. I point to my flashing BRIDE sash. I'm playing with fire.
He took another step closer. My heart rate seemed to increase incrementally with each pace he took.
"So you keep reminding me." Hand to his chin, "Or are you reminding yourself?"
I keep quiet.
"Can I tell you something?" he asked. I felt like the question is loaded, very loaded.
I nodded, trying very hard to steady myself against the wall.
"Are you sure you want to know?" he tested the waters, stalking closer.
I nodded again, not quite as sure this time.
"I maybe, once upon a time, used to have some no so friendly feelings towards you, so sometimes those memories can come back a little and cloud my judgment."
I felt my throat constrict. Did he really just say that?
"By not so friendly, you mean?"
"I didn't want so much to be friends as… more than friends."
I didn't know what to say. I couldn't breathe, he was so fucking close. His admission threw me a little. While this thing between us is hard to dismiss, to hear it verbally acknowledged is another thing entirely.
"Did you ever feel the same?" he asked.
He was testing me. My mind instantly went back to the night on the dancefloor, his body up against mine. The heat. I pressed my thighs together, the familiar warmth spreading in my core just with his look.
"Maybe," vodka makes me bold, and also stupid. You don't talk to married people this way. You smile and you walk away.
Walk away, Joey.
His eyes smiled, then shifted from blue to black, in a split second.
I tried to move but my legs wouldn't cooperate, like they didn't understand the mechanics of walking away from Pacey Witter, in the dark, outside a strip club.
"You're getting married in two days," he held up two fingers.
"So you keep reminding me, or are you trying to remind yourself?" I turned his words against him and pointed to my 'bride to be' sash again.
He rolled his eyes dramatically and seemed to hesitate, like he was having the same tumultuous internal battles as me.
I was drunk, standing in the street with a man I shouldn't be alone with. He's flirting. I'm flirting.
Bad. Idea. Joey.
It's that inexplicable connection. It zaps like electricity all around us. When Pacey's not around, I start to doubt it, chalk it up to my mind conjuring imagined feelings. Then I'm with him and there is no questioning it. It's there. It's in his every move. He feels it too.
Thankfully, Jen appears next to us grabbing my wrist and glaring at Pacey who instantly steps back, "What the fuck guys? I've been looking for you everywhere," she seemed genuinely concerned.
"Sorry, I just needed some air," Jen stared straight through me.
"No offense," she put her hand up toward Pacey and pointed at him accusingly "but you're the last person she should be outside getting fresh air with."
Pacey didn't dispute it and falls back against the wall.
"There is a reason Bachelorettes are supposed to be women only," she snatched my wrist and dragged me back inside. It's a good thing. I know there is no way I was capable of walking away from Pacey of my own volition.
We rode back to my apartment in a cab. Jen passed out on the seat, head on my shoulder. Pacey had her shoes in his hands, playing absentmindedly with the buckle.
I was sobering up quickly.
After Jen dragged us back inside, I attempted to keep a bit more distance between us. We all danced on the dancefloor with the strippers. We drank, we sang Whitney Huston's 'Wanna dance with somebody' at the top of our lungs. Despite the earlier hiccup, we relaxed. We had fun.
But the night drawing to a close meant that one more hurdle to the big day was over. It was coming towards me like a steam train with no brakes, and I couldn't slow it down.
It was happening. I was getting married.
I was excited. Scared. Sure, everyone had second thoughts before they got married, didn't they? Dawson was a great guy. He was the only guy I'd ever been with, the only person I'd ever had to gauge a relationship with. Every first we had was supposed to be our last. So what that he didn't know how to fold clothes properly, would make strange noises while he chewed, wasn't quite as tall and as broad as certain gentlemen? We were going to be happy. It was going to be great.
Pacey and I poured Jen into the spare bed, I left a glass of water and aspirin on her bedside and tucked her in.
I headed to the linen closet and took out some of the blankets and handed them to Pacey in the lounge. He took off his shirt and lay on the couch, snuggling under a blanket.
"Night," he called out as I reached the hallway.
I didn't respond.
I checked the clock again "4:00" turned and tried to get comfortable for the fiftieth time. I thought I heard a noise. It was probably just the couple in the apartment next door.
I grabbed my phone, scrolling through for a distraction. Some of my friends had sent through pictures from the night. Lots of blurry shots of me, strippers, Jen, drinks, Pacey wearing a Dawson mask covered in colorful cocks. I threw my phone down onto the bed.
Nope.
Tiptoeing through the hallway, I took my glass for a refill. As I passed the couch in the darkness, I could see the outline of his sleeping form.
Filling the glass to the brim from the fridge tap, I turned and stopped.
Pacey stood in the doorway.
"Can't sleep?"
I shook my head. I wasn't sure he could even see me. I could barely see him in the darkness.
But I could feel him there, his presence filling the room.
I could hear a tap dripping behind me, the gentle hum of the refrigerator, the fan circulating the warm air around the room.
And like magic, he was suddenly in front of me. Close. In my space.
I didn't retreat.
His head dipped down towards me, and Pacey's lips were on mine. So insistent and hungry. I pressed myself towards him, permitting him to deepen the kiss.
It was eager and messy. It was divine. I was sure I'd never in my life been kissed like this; it was something entirely new to me. My legs started to give out from under me.
One arm circled my waist and the other in my hair as we devoured each other's mouths. His hands were only thing holding me vertical, I felt like I was falling into the floor, through my own feet.
He pushed me against the fridge. I could feel the magnets pressing into my spine. Magnets Dawson bought from the cities he'd visited. His hand is under my shirt, deliciously hot against my skin, tracing the underside of my breast.
A soft moan from my lips pours into his mouth and, in response, his fingers encircle my nipple.
Blackness.
He is pressed against me. So much heat. He smells of the ocean and vodka.
I try to crawl up him. I need to be closer. My legs wrap around him, using the fridge as leverage. His arms move and hands grab my thighs firmly, pressing against me, all of it long and hard, right there at my core.
The magnets behind me dislodge and fall to the floor loudly.
We suddenly pause, panting, pulling away and shocked by the noise. I open my mouth, Pacey's fingers press against my lips, quieting me. Our foreheads rested together, assessing, waiting. In the brief pause, I'm searching for the composure I lost long ago.
My lips already miss his.
We both gasp for air in ragged breaths. I listen for any sound of Jen.
Nothing.
He lifts me and carries me, legs still wrapped around him into my room. He gently lays me on the bed, then goes back and closes the door silently.
He's back, whispering into my ear, "not a sound," he grins into my neck and trails tiny kisses from my ear to my collarbone. It's easy for him to say. My heaving breaths can't be controlled.
The truth was, I was afraid.
Afraid that Jen would hear.
Afraid that he'd come to his senses and back away, out of loyalty to Dawson.
Afraid that he would stop.
I delighted in the exquisite pleasure of finally having him. After all this time, I want to savor it. Like an ice-cream, melting in the summer sun. It would be gone before I knew it, I didn't want to miss one drip.
"Joey," he murmured against my ear, breaking the fever of his kisses.
I couldn't form a coherent sentence, "mmmm."
"I'm not sure I know how to stop this," his voice was pained.
"Good," I pulled him back against me, hard. Forcing his lips back against mine, he didn't fight back. My body ached for him, for this Pacey. Here, with me right here, right now. And if I only get him for one night, I was going to make the most of it.
My bra was gone, hanging off my dresser. His pants were gone, piled on the floor.
Once he slipped himself inside me, I fell apart, losing myself, losing the Joey Potter I thought I was. I tilted my hips to invite him further, in desperate and frantic thrusts. We clung to each other, grasping. I didn't want it to end but, I couldn't hold myself back, the pleasure so raw and intense. His blue eyes bored into mine, barely blinking above me.
I was sure he could feel my urgency; there is no need for build-up. I'm was already there, teetering on the edge of my orgasm.
Then he moaned, "Oh God, Joey," and I was done. Spent. Crashing down like years of pent up frustration and longing. His hands covered my open, gasping mouth to try and silence me.
When I opened my eyes, he was there. The sun was beaming through the window; I hadn't even closed my blinds.
Burying my face into the pillow, I couldn't imagine how I must look after a night like that. His eyes were smiling at me. I could smell the sex lingering in the air. The touches had continued all night long, the exploration of each other in depth. My legs and body ached from it, a pleasurable ache.
"Morning," he quipped.
"Morning."
"You look just as beautiful in the morning as I imagined."
I rolled my eyes and pretend to gag, "Yeah, I'm sure it's a real treat." I sat up to smooth my hair back and wipe under my eyes, and he pulled me back, back to the bed. The bed where good things happened. And bad things. He flipped me onto my back and rested on his arms over me, devouring me with his eyes.
"How is your head?" he queried, testing to water to see how drunk I was.
"Fine, I had well and truly sobered up by bedtime."
He smiled widely, "Good, me too."
So, it was established that this was a reasonably sober consensual rendezvous. It couldn't be blamed on drunk insanity.
Although I was sure I was insane. I was lying naked in bed, with my fiancé's best friend, my best friend one day before my wedding and I was happy. Clearly, I'd gone mad.
His fingers traced light circles on my hipbone, making it very hard to think.
"So…"
"Do we really need to ruin this morning by talking?" he asked, hungrily.
"Unfortunately, I think we might need to. We have some time constraints here. Jen might already be awake. We can't stay like this."
Pacey pulled his hand away, nodding sadly.
"So this is it?" sadness seeped into his tone.
I sighed.
"I don't know. I have to think. This is a lot to process." Rolling out of bed, I started putting on underwear and trying to locate a shirt. He laid back, sheet low on his hips, hands behind his head. I wondered if this move was an attempt to lure me back.
"Are you trying to tell me, Jo, that you never imagined this possibility? That somehow this never crossed your mind? That this is a new concept to process?"
"Maybe," I pulled a shirt over my head, "But I never expected that it would actually happen. Especially not the day before my fucking wedding," just saying it made me feel sick. I had an affair, and I wasn't even married yet.
"So you're still getting married then?" he cocked his head to the side.
"You're kidding, right? Of course, I'm still getting married. YOU'RE MARRIED!" I yell. This situation is bordering on ridiculous.
His hands quickly gestured to keep it down. I momentarily forgot Jen was in the spare room down the hall.
I started searching around the room, finding his clothes and throwing them towards him. He reluctantly starts getting dressed, eyes suddenly shadowed. Silently he buttoned his pants and then moved to stand in front of me, challenging.
"What are we going to do here, Joey?" Pacey sighed, eyes sad and sincere. Desperate for an answer, a specific answer. One that I'm wasn't sure I was capable of giving him.
My head scrambled for answers, for a sign. Of course, this is what I've wanted for years. But how do you throw everything away, throw Dawson away, everything in my life away? For what? One night? Entirely on a whim for a married man?
It was madness.
"Joey," Jen knocked at the door.
We froze, eyes locked on each other.
"One minute!" I called out.
"Wait here," I mouthed to him. He just shook his head.
"Please!" I pleaded with him in a whisper.
I left the room, heading to the kitchen to meet Jen and debrief on the evening. Of course, I don't mention what happened between Pacey and I, not yet anyway. It was all too fresh. After pouring a coffee, I told Jen I needed to get my phone from the room and when I arrived, it was empty.
He was gone.
The bedroom window was open, the bed is made. There was no was evidence he was ever there.
Pacey Witter doesn't return. Not for the rehearsal dinner. Not for the wedding. My texts go unread, my calls unanswered.
So, I married Dawson. On the 23rd of July as planned, minus one best friend who was unexpectedly called away.
