Career Tip #5 - Watch out for Work Parties

If the after-work drinks invitation is tempting you, know your limits. Socializing after work is a great way to strengthen connections, but watch your alcohol intake. You never know if one too many cocktails might make you spill the beans to your mentor, or worse, make a move on the office hunk!

Joey is trying to work.

Trying.

Pacey's chin rests on the top of the display, his arms hanging over it, dangling mid-air into the aisle where Joey is sorting the videos after a toddler tantrum ended with them all on the floor.

"How was your movie night?" he asks.

"Can you not ask me when I'm busy and there are customers in the store?"

His fingers wave in her aisle and he pouts. "But I want to know now."

"It was fine. Very good."

"The movie. I want to know your thoughts on the movie. "

She stops, glancing up at his face gazing down. "It was… informative."

He smiles, knowingly. "The shower scene?"

Burrowing her face into her vest, hiding hot cheeks, Joey mumbles in the affirmative.

"Come on! Give me something, Jo."

"The guy was pretty cute," she relents.

Pacey recoils, "He's like 35!"

"What do you want me to say, Pace? I loved it. I hated it. It turned me on? What?"

He retracts his arms from her aisle, mouth dropping open. "You were turned on?"

"I didn't say that!" Joey loses her grip on Dirty Rotten Scoundrels and the case snaps open on the floorboards.

Pacey leaves his aisle and appears in hers, voice lowered, "You did actually say that."

"Don't push me, Pacey, I'm not in the mood," she warns, but he remains unbothered, helping her to arrange the titles.

"Grumpy Joey is not to be trifled with." he nudges her playfully. "What's got your knickers in a twist, despite my film recommendation, of course?"

"Nothing."

"Hmm, cryptic. So, after movie night and the obligatory pillow fight, how was the rest of the evening? Nude hair braiding? Practice kissing?"

"The male mind is a frightening place," says Joey.

"Trust me, I'm aware."

"The evening was fine and devoid of any sapphic tendencies. The worst part is that Jen somehow convinced me to go to Chris Wolfe's party on Saturday."

Pacey stops stacking, " You're going?"

She sighs. "I know fraternizing with the jocks and popular kids isn't my usual Saturday night, but I figured, why not? I am a teenager. Maybe I should start acting like one."

"You make it sound like your usual Saturday nights are sad affairs."

"They are spent with you," she teases.

"Well, I can take you after work, if you want?"

"Are you going, too?"

"I was planning on it."

Joey considers his offer. "Promise not to ditch me for some bimbo in a tight skirt?"

"How short is the aforementioned skirt?"

Joey groans.

"Fine, fine. I promise," Pacey gives the scout's honor salute and strolls to the register.

On Saturday night the vests are hung and the doors locked, Pacey and Joey make their way to the party.

The Wagoneer takes them down the long driveway and they park between a BMW and a Range Rover.

Surveying the vast gardens and multi-story monstrosity that is Chris Wolfe's humble abode, Pacey says, "Toto, I've got a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore."

"If anything is proof of the class divide in this town, it is this house."

"I hear it has a wine cellar, a sauna, and a putting green."

"Don't tell this to a girl who is soon to share a bedroom with her infant nephew on the wrong side of the creek."

"Hey! I live on that same wrong side with you." Waggling his eyebrows, Pacey says, "Come on, let's go see how the other half live."

Joey stops him before he leaves the Wagoneer. "We can change our minds, you know. I'm told that as a woman it's my prerogative." Joey doesn't unclip her seatbelt.

"What happened to acting like a teenager?"

"Who am I kidding? I am an overachieving honor student. My life revolves around study and revolting against the party lifestyle. You won't catch me drinking from a keg or playing truth or dare."

"Get out of the car, Potter." Pacey exits his side, walks past the hood, and opens her door. "Please don't make me physically remove you."

"Can we make a deal?" She looks up at him.

"Depends on the deal?"

"When either you or I have had enough of this coming-of-age cliche, we make a signal and the other is happy to leave, no questions asked?"

Pacey sighs. "Okay. What's the signal?"

"It needs to be something natural, something no one would think twice about. A hand signal, or a secret word?" Joey muses, her hand revolving through a series of gestures to find the right one.

Pacey scrunches up his nose, and deadpans, "Or we could, for once, not overcomplicate matters and say 'I want to go home?'"

She gives him the finger.

"Okay, that works for me. No one would think twice about that. Give me the finger and I'll take you home in the chariot. I do the same and you come along willingly."

"Deal," she says, and they shake on it.

Leaving the safety of the Wagoneer, they make their way to the front door. A familiar sophomore is passed out in a bloom of rhododendrons. The Offspring blasts inside. Red cups litter the doorway like confetti.

Joey turns and gives Pacey the finger.

He shakes his head and opens the door. "Nice try."

Jen finds Pacey and Joey ambling wide-eyed through the masses, passing Joey a beer from the keg.

"You made it!" She hugs Joey. "I thought you'd just told me you would come to placate me."

"I forced her through the door. She was ready to bail," says Pacey.

"I'm still ready to bail, but maybe this will make me stay," Joey shrugs, bringing the red cup to her lips and taking a long swig. Jen does a mini-clap.

"Uh oh," Pacey observes the chug.

The girls take a lap of the revelers, a mishmash of cliques and misfits. Some are pressed against the wall, swapping bodily fluids, others are dancing on the marble coffee table. The air bears the tang of cigarette smoke, axe body spray, and ripe teenage hormones.

They visit the cellar and the sauna, but it turns out that the putting green was just an urban legend, of the rich kid variety.

Pacey and Dawson chat with some seniors. When Joey's beer is finished, they eat some stale Lays from a plastic bowl and Jen shows her how to pump the keg for a refill.

"Do you know the statistics of teen alcohol consumption and its correlation to lowered test scores?" says Dawson, approaching the girls as they fill their cups.

Pacey makes a siren noise. "Warning. Warning. Fun police approaching."

"It's true," Dawson continues, "Not to mention teen pregnancy, assault, and the inevitable spiral into drugs."

"Thanks for the after-school special, Dawson. It's beer, not crack. And I've had one, " Joey replies, making inroads with her second.

Jen wraps herself around Dawson, teasing him, encouraging him to relax.

"Why aren't you drinking, Pacey? I thought of all the people to partake it would be you," asks Dawson.

"I'm the designated driver. Got to get the Witter Wagoneer home in one piece," he pats the top of Joey's head, "Oh, and this one, too."

Joey swats away his hand.

"She is precious cargo," Jen smiles at Joey, sweetness in overdrive.

The red cup is funneling liquid into Joey's mouth at an alarming rate. "I can assure you beer tastes even worse coming back up than it does going down," warns Pacey knowingly.

But Joey ignores him, taking Jen's hand and leading her to the kitchen to dance.

Later, the foursome finds a quiet corner of the house, where the speakers aren't so loud, and the haze from the pot smoke doesn't make their eyes water. They sit by an enormous ficus. The boys resting their backs against the wall, the girls cross-legged in front of them.

"You know what we should play?" Jen starts.

Everyone shakes their heads emphatically.

"What else are we going to do? Come on! Nothing gets a party started like Truth or Dare."

Joey waggles a finger. "Correction, Jennifer, nothing kills a party like Truth or Dare."

"Dawson." Jen turns to her boyfriend, ignoring them all. "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth," he answers, sufficiently bewitched by her beauty to allow ridiculous party games.

"Have you ever seen Pacey or Joey naked?" Jen asks.

"Of course! We grew up in each other's pockets. Also, Pacey struts around the gym locker room so much so that every male here has seen him naked."

"I do not strut. I saunter, there is a subtle difference," Pacey corrects.

Jen and Joey cackle at the thought.

Dawson turns to Joey, "Truth or Dare."

"We aren't playing!" she protests.

" Yes, we are!" Jen demands, giving Joey a playful shove.

"Fine. Fine. Dare."

"I dare you to find Chris Wolfe's bedroom, go inside, and climb beneath his sheets."

Jen looks at her boyfriend in shock. "Dawson Leery, that is a fantastic dare! Yes Joey, go!"

She considers it, finishes her beer, and stands.

"Someone is probably having sex on that bed," offers Pacey.

Alcohol makes Joey brave, and she ascends the staircase, trying rooms on the left and the right. The house is enormous. In a bathroom, she finds someone snorting white power from the lip of the bathtub. In what must be Chris' parent's bedroom, she sees a shirtless couple dry-humping on the four-poster bed.

Eventually, she comes to the furthest room. Its walls are covered in Nirvana posters and medals from Capeside track meets. Thankfully, there is no one inside. As quickly as she can, Joey skips to his bed, lays down, and jumps up again. She isn't game to pull back the covers, but she will lie. It's close enough.

Back beside the ficus, Jen asks excitedly, "Did you do it?"

Joey nods, and Jen gives her a high five.

"Don't be surprised if you end up pregnant," Jen jokes. "You know what high school boys are like!"

"Eww!" Joey cringes.

"She's not wrong," adds Pacey.

Glancing around their small group, Joey considers her victim.

"Truth or dare?" Joey asks Pacey, raising her eyebrows at him while he grapples with the decision.

"No jumping off the roof!" says Dawson.

Pacey pretends to laugh at the joke he's heard a thousand times, looks Joey directly in the eyes, and says, "Truth."

She smiles.

"You never pick truth," Dawson nudges Pacey and regards him, concerned.

"Well, I'm not really in the mood for bodily harm tonight. Figured truth is a safer option, and I really don't want to snuggle beneath Chris Wolfe's sheets," he answers, before glancing at Joey and wondering if he should reconsider.

She taps her fingertips together like a movie villain, pauses, and takes a large swig of Jen's beer, her face contorting.

"Pacey Witter…" she begins.

"Joey Potter."

"If you could kiss anyone in this room right now, who would you kiss?"

Pacey blinks.

Jen makes a sharp intake of breath.

Shaking her head, Joey reconsiders. "No. No. I've changed my mind. That's not my question."

Jen holds out a finger, "Zip it, Joey. No takebacks." Then turns to Pacey, urging him to answer.

Regarding the beer in Joey's hand, he slowly glances around at the crowd. Pacey's eyes land on a figure in tight jeans and a sparkly top that displays ample midriff, and a bejeweled, pierced navel. Her breasts defy gravity.

"Alicia Burns," he says.

Jen's mouth drops. "Why?"

"I think you'll find, Lindley, that a truth does not allow for follow-up questions. You're supposed to accept the answer and move on."

"That's ridiculous!" Jen answers.

Joey remains silent.

"Okay, Jennifer. Considering you take issue with my answer, you can be my next victim. Truth or Dare?" Pacey asks.

"Truth," she replies.

"What base have you and Dawson reached?"

"I object," says Dawson. "Why do we need to share this private information?"

"What is truth or dare if not an underhanded way of siphoning details of your peers' sex life and deepest-darkest desires?"

"Third base," Jen answers without hesitation, then reaches over, taking her red cup from Joey, and gulps the beer.

Dawson groans. Pacey slaps him on the back in congratulations. "Wow, man, I'm happy for you."

Jen looks at Joey. "Joey Potter, truth or dare?"

Joey considers her friend and opts for truth.

"Joey, have you ever had a sex dream about anyone?"

Pacey pulls a shiny leaf from the ficus and crushes it in his fist.

Joey glares at Jen. "No!"

"Is that your final answer?" Jen asks, eyebrows raised.

"Yes!" Joey takes back the beer and moves the game swiftly to the next player. "Dawson, truth or dare?"

"Considering the current line of questioning I'm going to go with dare."

"Hmm," Joey thinks, tapping her chin. "Dawson, I dare you not to speak until you've been selected for another truth or dare."

Pacey cackles. "Now that's a good dare!"

"That's ridiculous," says Dawson.

"Quiet," Joey puts a finger across her lips in demonstration.

"How is he supposed to ask the next person?" Jen asks.

"You can," says Joey, "by girlfriend proxy."

Satisfied, Jen turns to Pacey, "Truth or Dare?"

He considers her demeanor, and answers dare. Jen nods, reaching into her handbag, pulling out a small silver tube, and hands it to Pacey.

"I dare you to put lipstick on Joey, but you have to do it properly. Like she would do it herself."

Joey protests. "I object! This isn't my dare. Why should I be involved?"

"Trust me, Joey, of dares you could be involved in, this one is pretty tame," warns Jen.

Joey reconsiders her objection.

Pacey pulls the lid off the lipstick tube and winds it out carefully, observing the foreign object before shuffling himself in front of Joey and flashing an enigmatic smile.

"I swear to god, if you make me look like a clown, I'm going to torture you for eternity," she glares at him.

"Oh Josephine, you already look like a clown and torture me every day. Your threats are hollow," he winds out the lipstick to its fullest extent as a warning. Jen yells at him to retract it before ruining her favorite MAC shade.

"I hate you sometimes," Joey whispers, watching him. It's barely audible above the thumping music, but Pacey can read her lips.

"Still telling yourself that one, hey?" Pacey smirks.

She shifts uncomfortably. "Shut up and get this over with."

Their insults are a theatrical display bourne of repetition. Joey hates Pacey. Pacey hates Joey. A childhood of it lingers in their bones.

Jen distracts Dawson with a tale of how she was taught to do makeup by a famous drag queen and for a while, his eyes leave Joey and Pacey alone.

Maneuvering into position is an awkward shuffle of body parts. Joey is looking like a deer in headlights and Pacey isn't sure how to place his body in relation to hers for access. Eventually, he kneels before her, pressing his knees against her crossed legs.

"I'm no lipstick expert, but I'm going to remind you that less is more," Joey babbles. He's too close.

Pacey clears his throat, "Noted. Do you normally do this with lips open or closed?"

"Open," she replies, glancing up at him.

He twists it out further, flips it over. "It's called Persistent Pink."

"Great," she deadpans.

"Will you two stop the foreplay and just finish already?" Jen calls out before beginning another tale to distract a silent Dawson, who can only nod in reply.

Pacey leans in, focusing on her mouth, reaching his hand out with the lipstick. His grip is steady, his breathing is anything but.

"Remind me to kill Jennifer later," he says, applying the lightest touch of it to her lips, testing the application and pressure required.

"You won't need to. I will take care of it," she said, her lips moving against the tube, making it draw just out of her lipline.

Pacey pulls the lipstick back and scolds her. "No moving! No talking. I'm going to ruin it, and Jen won't be the only person you will kill."

His index finger swipes carefully just outside of her top lip, collecting the offending mark.

"There. Fixed. Now, no talking!"

She is rigid. Taking a breath, parting her lips just enough to allow him to resume. And he does, fastidiously edging it across her top lip, his face inches from hers, his other arm resting on her shoulder to steady her. The contact points are numerous, and his warm breath is tickling her cheeks.

When the top lip is completed, he moves back to consider his handiwork. The tone is a flushed pink, glossy and rich.

Joey can't speak, terrified that her voice would betray her. Alcohol and Pacey fuse together in a heady amalgamation. She slips her hands beneath her backside, keeping them steady and in place.

Coming close again, he begins on the bottom lip. The touch is so gentle, it's a graze, making her lips part further. Her heart hammers.

Finished, he places his hand on her chin, raising her face to his, regarding his work. At no time does his eyes make contact with hers, or stray to her cheeks, her neck. They remain squarely upon her mouth.

"Beautiful," he whispers, still close.

"Are you done yet? We can't keep playing until you finish!" Dawson calls out from behind them.

Slapping a hand over Dawson's mouth, Jen yells. "No talking!"

Pacey pulls back, "I mean, it's a beautiful color," he corrects quietly.

"I need to use the bathroom," Joey stands with a wobble.

Jen jumps up,taking the lipstick from Pacey's grasp. "I'll join you."

Dawson murmurs through a closed mouth an unintelligible question of whether he can speak again.

"You can talk now. Let's get some fresh air," Pacey says to Dawson and they disappear without a backward glance at the girls.

Jen and Joey wait in line for the bathroom together, listening for the flush to signal their turn. Once inside, Jen locks the door. The moment it's closed, Joey lets out a long breath and slumps against the bathtub.

"That good was it?" Jen grins. "I don't know why I'm asking. I got turned on just watching you two."

Joey holds out a finger. " That was dangerous."

"I could have just dared him to kiss you, but when you two finally kiss, you don't want it to be in front of Dawson and me," Jen takes the same lipstick Pacey just used and reapplies it on her own lips.

" When?" Joey asks, staring at Jen in the mirror.

"When," she replies, tone firm, and puts the lid on the lipstick. "And if I dared you two to kiss now, you'd both spend so much time protesting that it would inevitably lead to awkwardness and retreat and all the good I'm trying to do would be negated by rushing the process."

"So you thought making him put lipstick on me was a solid idea?"

Nodding, Jen says, "I stand by my dare."

Joey inspects herself in the mirror. "He actually did a good job."

"Nimble fingers," Jen says, "a fortuitous trait."

"I still don't see the point," Joey unspools toilet paper, wetting it and swiping the lipstick off her mouth.

"The point? Making him stare at your lips in close proximity? Making him focus on nothing but you? Joey Potter, he was barely functional by the end. I call that a success. Tonight, he's going to dream of your lips."

"He is not," Joey protests.

Jen bats her eyelashes. "He already does."

The girls exit the bathroom. It takes Joey a few laps of the house before she finds Pacey beside the pool, talking to Rebecca Maloney. She pauses, watching them for a moment before Pacey's eyes drift over to hers.

Joey holds her hand up high and gives him the finger.

He ends the conversation, making his way over to her. Keys fished from his pocket and jangling in his hands.

"Nothing good can come out of this evening," she says.

"Agreed. Let's go."

In the Wagoneer, Pacey hits play on their tape as they exit Chris Wolfe's sprawling estate.

Joey feels her stomach lurch, recoiling at the bitter tang of beer on her tongue.

"One day, during Wagoneer memory moments, we can laugh about the time I was dared to apply your lipstick."

"One day. Not today," Joey replies, winding down the window for November air to sober her.

"You feeling okay?"

"Not really."

He drops the speed, edging around corners at a crawl.

"Any particular reason you changed your mind and decided that alcohol was actually your friend?"

Joey watches the streets stream past. "After one, I remembered it has this incredible way of making problems float away, if only for a little while."

"Problems?"

"General teen angst," she brushes it off, "nothing important."

"It wouldn't have anything to do with your dad, would it?"

Her head turns, "What about him?"

"About his upcoming parole?"

Joey looks at him shocked, before her face softens. "News on the police grapevine?"

"Something like that."

"He wrote to us, asking Bessie and I to submit written statements supporting his parole application."

"How do you feel about that?"

"I don't know."

"You don't have to write anything, you know, he can apply without it."

"I know, he said that statements showing family support are a good supplement to his other documents. That it shows a level of stability awaiting his return."

Pacey says nothing, waiting for her to continue if she wants.

"The last thing Bessie needs right now is a new baby, an angsty teen, and a returned criminal landing on her doorstep. She already has enough to worry about. He will just be another mouth to feed."

"That's Bessie. What about you?"

Joey shrugs. "The thought of it makes me feel numb."

Shifting awkwardly in his seat, Pacey doesn't know the right words to help Joey. "Do you want a memory of him?" he asks.

"Is it a good memory, or a bad one?"

"I think you'll like it."

"Okay," says Joey.

"We were having a water fight outside your house. It was so hot that summer. We were ten, maybe eleven? You wore that bathing suit with the stripes and anchor. Your dad was using the hose to fill up the water pistols. Dawson and I kept ganging up on you, hiding behind trees and ambushing you every chance we got. As the day wore on, you were saturated and grumpy. I cornered you behind the rose bushes, sprayed your face."

Joey nods, smiling. She's found the memory. He can see that summer replaying in her eyes.

"Dad told you to stop," she adds.

Chuckling, Pacey continues, "He told me to quit picking on you numerous times. I didn't listen. I never listened. Still don't. I filled up a bucket, chased you with it, dropping most of it on the way, and dumped it over your head."

"It was freezing!"

"You cried. Mike turned off the hose calmly, picked me up, carried me to the dock, and threw me into the creek."

"Dawson and I laughed so hard, you were covered in weed and worried about crabs biting your toes."

"I deserved it. But your dad didn't do it to piss me off. He did it for you."

"So you're saying I should write the letter?"

"No. I'm saying he loves you, and that's why he's asking."

For the rest of the drive, Joey picks at her cuticles and Pacey keeps his eyes on the road. There is no air guitar today, no ball to throw, just two people and Pearl Jam spinning in the cassette player.

They pull up out the front of the Potter house, on the wrong side of Capeside. The porch light is on, but Joey knows Bessie will be fast asleep by now. It's almost midnight. The moon throws a milky glow across the garden.

"Well, that wasn't anywhere near as painful as I imagined," says Joey.

"True. Although I think I'll abstain from Truth or Dare in the future."

"Lipstick on your enemy was the breaking point? Or you've outgrown it at the mature old age of fifteen?"

He chuckles, "I did a good job with the dare. Your lips were the proof. It was the truth that was my failing."

"Why? You answered. That's the whole point, isn't it? You realized truths aren't all that scary." Said Joey. Even if hearing his truth, wanting to kiss Alicia Burns, was scary.

Joey unclips her seatbelt, and he speaks. "I lied."

She turns to him. "Your truth was a lie?"

He nods.

"Why?"

Pacey clenches his jaw, the muscles active and jarring. He shrugs. "Maybe the truth is scary. Maybe the last thing I want to do is admit who I want to kiss at Chris Wolfe's party, in front of Dawson and Jen," he swallows, "and you."

Pulling the latch, Joey opens the car door but sinks back into the passenger seat. "I lied too."

Pacey looks at her properly, considering her confession and its implications. The interior light is on, casting shadows across her face.

Joey knows he won't ask her to reveal her truth, if he wants to protect his own.

"We both suck at truth or dare," he says.

"It's a crappy game, anyway." Joey waves her hand, negating their lies.

She tries to leave the car, but she can't seem to move. It's as though she's waiting for something, unsure of what that something is.

Pacey smiles patiently, not rushing her. He reaches into a pocket in the door and pulls out some gum.

"Want some? To mask the alcohol in case Bessie wakes up."

Joey nods, unwrapping it and chewing slowly. She still doesn't move.

He turns to her, reaching out his hand. A thumb contacts her lower lip, brushing against it, only for a second. "You wiped off the lipstick."

Joey freezes. His hand pulls away, but his eyes stay on her mouth.

She nods.

"You look better without it, anyway."

She shakes her head, looks him in the eyes. "Is that the truth, or a lie?"

Pacey smiles, his voice doesn't tremble. "The truth."

Joey leaves the Wagoneer and walks a wobbly line up to the door. Pacey ejects the tape and reverses out once she's safe inside.