. Summary: This is a challenge piece I did from Pages of True Love.  This fic takes place mid-season 5, Jen and Dawson have dated and broken up, Pacey and Audrey haven't gotten together, Joey isn't crushing on her professor or Charlie Todd. The rest is pretty self explainatory.  Lyrics come from Dave Matthews Band "Wasting Time"

I open my eyes slowly… someone was snoring. My eyes focus on the alarm clock on my night stand, the numbers insignificant through the pounding of my head as flashes of last night slowly drip through my memory.

I glance over at Audrey’s bed, the absence of her fuzzy neon pink pillow the first thing to strike me. My ability to reel through the past few days events is handicapped by my drunken disposition, well at least I still feel drunk. Spring Break in LA, I finally remember… that still doesn’t explain the snoring.

I pull my sheet up my body suddenly realizing that it’s the only layer protecting me from the cold as the situation becomes all too familiar. I can now feel his warmth as he shifts on the bed beside me with his gruff hung over groan.

I shut my eyes tightly not needing to turn around, “Good morning, Pace,” I say.

He groans again, “Oh God, not again.”

I sit up on my elbows, “Nice to see you too.”

“No, it’s—,” he scrambles onto his back shielding his eyes from the bright morning sun in a painful gesture, “we’ve just got to stop meeting like this, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” I nod. It’s been nearly a year since we broke up, this has been the eighth time since Christmas that we’ve woken up this way. It started that karaoke night during break, Audrey had gone home with the drummer; Pacey had gone home with me.

He narrows his eyes, “What day is it?”

My eyes widen, “Oh my God, our flight.” 

Spring Break 2002 Jack McPhee took his Overzealous College Freshmenitis too far booking the four unaccounted members of our little click on the first flight to Miami. It left in approximately 42 minutes, Worthington was approximately 28 minutes away, and Pacey and I were approximately screwed, in more ways then one.

We shot out of bed scrambling for lost garments scattered across my floor, my packed bags waiting by the door. “Do you have your stuff with you?” I asked, nearly begged, Jack would kill us any other way.

“Yeah, yeah,” he searched for his shoe, “it’s in my car.”

I caught sight of his sneaker in the bathroom, I had no clue how it had gotten there.

~*~

Logan is a zoo and not metaphorically speaking, it seems that everyone in the greater Boston area have chosen to transport their beloved mutts on this very day creating an allergy sufferers nightmare. My luggage on wheels is no match for these little fur balls and as the clock ticks closer to take off my patience for the beasts grows thin.

“Last call Flight 423 to Miami gate 14,” the announcer’s voice taunts us.

My suitcase pops off of one wheel becoming momentarily immobile. “God Damnit Pacey, this is your entire fault, you realize that,” I grunt in frustration.

“How is it my fault?” He asks defensively.

“One more drink Jo, come on you’ve got to try it,” I mimic, “You know I can’t hold my alcohol.”

He stops scooping up my bag, “True, but I do admit, you’ve gotten a lot better.”

My eyes catch sight of Gate 14, the door shut tight as a cringe crosses my face. We close the distance finally making it to the waiting room where Jen and Jack sit in an empty row of sea foam green seats, arms folded firmly across chests.

“I am so sorry,” are the first words to spill from my mouth, “we’ll catch the next one, I promise.”

“Those tickets were non-refundable,” Jack says simply, his eyes are so sad.

“We’ll buy new ones,” I offer.

Pacey taps on my shoulder, “Um Jo, I’m not sure if you’ve forgotten this, but we’re a bunch of 18 year old partially college students who lack this little thing called cash to make such purchases.”

I frown, I’m broke.

“Where were you two anyway?” Jen questions.

Pacey and I share an uneasy glance, “Traffic,” we say in unison.

“There goes my first Spring Break ever,” Jack says just to build up the guilt.

“Who wants to go to Florida anyway?” Jen throws in to help us, “I mean frolicking around in skimpy bikinis isn’t Joey and my forte anyway. In fact Spring Break is nothing more then an MTV holiday, established to give their beloved VJ’s a week of paid vacation without actually giving them any time off. It’s nothing but booze and some lame pop act’s final attempt to stay afloat in the entertainment industry. Don’t you see, we’re being brainwashed in some giant corporate scam?”

Jack’s expression doesn’t waver, “I wanted to be brainwashed in some elaborate corporate scam,” his sad puppy dog lip quivering in my direction.

“Pacey can drive us,” I suggest without thinking.

Jack perks up, Jen’s eyes widen in protest, “Drive to Florida?” She asks incredulously, “With two men who have the attention span of a four year old?”

“Lindley, you give us far too much credit,” Pacey says placing his hands on her shoulders.

I begin to consider it further, “If we drive all day we can get there in two days, and still be down there for a few more before we take the rest of our round trip back.”

“And leave my car behind?” Pacey snaps defensively.

“It’s not like you have classes to get back to, your spring break could run straight into summer if you wanted it to.”

Jack stands up, “I’m game.”

Jen and Pacey follow suit reluctantly, “Which way to the car?”

~*~

The smell of McDonalds has driven me to nausea, the howl of the radio roaring away slipping through patches of static driving me towards insanity as I realize that this wasn’t my greatest idea.

I draw my feet into my lap ignoring Pacey’s requests of keeping all feet off the seat. “How long have we been driving?” I ask.

Jen glances over at me from her position in the front seat, lucky little bitch, “About six hours now.”

I look out the window, “Then where are we?”

“New Jersey,” Pacey fills in.

I let my head fall against the back of the bench; bored is the only word I can think of. “Maybe we should just go back home, or the Jersey shore, that’s a hot spot right?”

“It’s not Florida,” Jack argues. “In Miami right now it’s a sunny 76.”

“As opposed to here,” Jen finishes, “Where it’s a partly cloudy 58.”

I scowl, there’s no argument there.

“What road did you take this morning anyway to Logan?” Jack asks randomly, I sink slightly in my posture hoping to disappear. “Because traffic was reasonably light for Jen and I though we weren’t coming from Cambridge.”

I catch Pacey’s eye in the rearview mirror a warm blush creeping up my cheeks, “There was an accident.”

“That sucks,” Jack shakes his head obliviously.

Pacey winks at me a sexual innuendo on the tip of his tongue, I shrivel up and die right there on the back seat, this was definitely a bad idea.

~*~

“What time is it?” Jen asks looking up from her crossword puzzle that we picked up over at the Woodrow Wilson Rest Stop featuring souvenirs, Roy Rogers, Rest Rooms, a Star Bucks and so much more. The man’s Fourteen Points are now nothing more then a list of 14 eateries off the Jersey Turnpike.

“Almost six,” Jack says.

“Where are we?” I ask, this dialogue occurs far too often, especially over the past nine hours.

“Maryland,” Pacey says glancing at me again through the rearview mirror, even in the quickest glance he throws the most piercing looks.

Jack rests his head in his hand now riding shotgun on our little voyage gaining the nickname 'Chewbacca' for the time being. He says he resents it, deep down he's smiling inside. Jen and I spent about two minutes arguing over the role of Princess Leia before we finally agreed that women were misrepresented in the Star Wars Galaxy.

"Bay Bridge," Jack reads off the sign, "we're crossing bridges?"

"Just to get across the Chesapeake Bay," Pacey says.

"But do we have to take a bridge?" Jack asks again.

I cock a brow, "What you afraid of bridges or something?"

"Is it not obvious yet?" Jack snaps, he's terrified.

"I didn't know you were scared of bridges," Jen says, "why did I not know that?"

"To avoid the ridicule," Jack defends. "Do you know how scary it is to be suspended hundreds of feet over another hundred feet of water. How one little twitch of the wheel can send you over the edge swallowed by the sea like a pill to your untimely death? Or the tons of steel giving way at night as cars topple into the rough waters down the steep slopes of destruction like on the Titanic."

"Then this bridge definitely isn't the prime choice to alleviate your fears," Pacey cringes. "Especially the direction we're going in."

We approach the edge of the bridge and Jack's eyes widen as he tries to find the end, "What do you mean the direction we're going in?"

We creep across the beginning length before I remember why exactly Jack should be terrified. "Just don't look down," I say.

Being a normal human being, the first thing Jack does is glance over the edge nearly jumping across the small cab of Pacey's Mustang. "What the hell," he exclaims staring through the metal bars at the crashing waves below.

"I hear there's UFO activity here," Jen throws in and I wonder if the Naval Academy will assist us in giving Jack a proper burial at sea.

He shifts uncomfortably staring at the ceiling of the car, "How long does this bridge go on."

"A good three or four minutes," Pacey warns.

"Nothing like those bridges in New York," Jen shakes her head somberly.

"Maybe we should just go home," He suggests.

"Sorry, one way traffic," Pacey shrugs.

Jack stiffens stiller then a statue, maybe this road trip wasn't such a bad idea after all.

~*~

We stop for the night in North Carolina, what was supposed to be a leisurely 5-hour flight has transformed into a 13-hour headache, and we're only half way there. I step out of the cramped car stretching my legs trying to get the circulation to run through them again while Jack serenades Jen with a rendition of Will Smith's Miami.

"Welcome to Miami," he chants, "en binino o, it's something Spanish, Miami," he finishes with as much grace as Arnold Schwarzenegger attempting a tight rope. 

Pacey comes out of the lobby shaking his head sadly; "They only had singles."

"Of course they did," I roll my eyes; Murphy's Law prevents you from ever getting what you want.

"And since I'm not entirely comfortable rooming with Jackers here, no offense," Pacey pats him on the back, "and Lindley and Potter would murder each other before sharing a pair of sheets," he winks at us, "I figured we'd go boy girl."

"How bout I bunk with Pacey," Jen steps up, "and you two can take the other."

I narrow my eyes, why would Jen want Pacey? "Why don't you want to sleep with Jack?"

"Because of the history," Jen says uncomfortably giving me a 'duh' expression. "Pacey and I notoriously lack the chemistry for any funny business, and…" she trails off.

"And since Pacey and I broke up we can't still do friend things, like innocently share a bed?" I ask.

"No, it's just," Oh God we're in high school again.

"We just all know that you intend on turning Jack back to the dark side, that's all," Pacey breaks in, "and this situation is rather convenient," he winks at me. 

Jack cocks a brow, "Wait, what?"

“Look a bar,” Pacey tries his best to mediate the group, gesturing wildly towards the bar across the road, “come on let’s go actually act like a couple of college kids on spring break.”

“This should be interesting.”

~*~

Once we break through the cloud of smoke, we find ourselves in another thick soup gasping for fresh air. Jen and Jack are immune to the odor, Pacey and I, not so much.

“I’m going to go grab a few beers,” Pacey says branching off.

I cling close to Jack as he plows through the crowd, the neon advertisements plastered to the walls our only points of reference for finding our way back out. There’s a low hum of some country western song seeping through the jukebox and a few more under aged couples groping in front of it in a gesture that couldn’t possibly resemble dancing.

We finally find a table near the edge of civilization and both Jen and I huddle as closely to Jack as possible once again, his poor gayness is wasted sometimes.

“Okay so I admit,” Pacey says setting a tray of drinks down in front of us, “this wasn’t my best idea.”

I pick up a peanut inspecting it a bit before popping it into my mouth, the rancid taste immediately striking my taste buds as I cringe in horror, “No it definitely was not.”

Jack pops a couple of nuts into his mouth bravely and doesn’t even flinch, “I don’t see the problem.”

I smile uneasily swiping a beer off the tray and taking a healthy swig to dull the taste.

“Hey slow down there Potter,” Pacey says slipping in the booth beside me, his arm rested above my shoulders as he snatches the beer from my hand. He takes a swig before looking at me with those goddamn flawless blue eyes, “the night’s still young,” he finishes taking a drink from my bottle.

We all drink another round and the buzz isn’t nearly enough to have a good time.

“This spring break blows,” Jack pouts shooting dry peanut shells across the table.

Jen stands up, “Come on McPhee, let’s dance.”

They walk over to the jukebox inspecting their choices before Dave Matthews Band begins to blast from the speakers. The locals look at is strangely before returning to their own business as Jen and Jack begin to dance wildly.
 

I bow my head in amusement trying to dissociate myself from my friends as Pacey yanks on my arm pulling me onto the floor with him.

“Nope sorry Other Joey is locked firmly away for the night,” I protest pushing against his chest.

He smirks, “Can’t she just come out to play for one song?”

I roll my eyes the beat of the song setting in my body, “Just one.”
 

He swings me around and even the dance lessons can’t help him as I nearly trip over a chair. He catches me his dark eyes staring into mine as he clutches me closely to his chest. He licks his lips cocking a suggestive brow, “You know I think I left something in my room.”

My throat goes dry his lips hovering mere inches away from mine, the heat radiating off his body sending chills down my spine, “We should go check on it then.”

I glance over at Jack and Jen who are still caught up in their own off beat dancing to notice our absence as we dodge around a few bar tables slipping out the door our lips crashing together immediately.

“This is so wrong,” I moan against his mouth.

His hands run roughly up my sides clutching at the hem of my shirt, “We can stop if you want.”

My arms wrap strongly around his neck crushing against his body as my tongue delves deeply into his mouth the familiarity a major comfort, “No thanks.”

He pushes me against the wall of the bar assaulting me with fiery kisses and I wrap my legs around his waist for support my knees loosing all control. He trails sloppy kisses down my neck his tongue tickling my collarbone right where I like it.

We really should stop but we can’t, it’s not even about the history that we have it’s the simple desire and chemistry that has always put friction between us and there are only two ways to control it. Banter or sex, and after events that occurred during senior year, the banter just wasn’t worth it anymore.

Yet there’s something more that I can’t prevent, the love for him that stirs every time I’m near him. The love that I try to push back down out of fear of getting hurt again. That’s why we don’t talk about what’s going on between us, out of fear that we’ll screw it up again.

I squirm out of his grasp, “Let’s take this inside.”

~*~

We hop back on the road avoiding any and all questions about when sleeping arrangements were altered, “I wasn’t feeling well so Pacey took me back,” is all I offer.

We make it about two hours before the Mustang dies in a ceremonial spurt of smoke from beneath the hood accompanied by a chugging sound and a loud cough. Jen and I dive out fearing its imminent burst into flames; Pacey just jumps up and down annoyed.

“It can’t be that bad,” Jack says.

“It is that bad,” Pacey argues as he pops the hood.

Jen and I seek solace hopping on the trunk and waiting for the boys to figure out the perfect spot to whack with a screw driver to get this baby running again.

“So are you feeling better?” Jen asks.

“Yeah,” I say nervously, “too much junk food I guess just had to sleep it off.”

“Oh,” she grins and I realize that she knows. “Then that’s what we probably heard last night when we came over to check on you.”

“Probably,” I say casually looking down the road as a distraction.

“Was Pacey sick too?” 

I can feel my skin growing flush, “Maybe a little, I don’t remember.”

“No Jack don’t touch that—it—,” another cloud of smoke pops out of the engine, I cringe.

A car pulls up behind us and Jen and I tilt our heads fearing the masked murderer that is bound to come out. Instead a tall gorgeous man steps out offering us an award winning grin, “I noticed you ladies on the side of the road,” he says. “You need any help?”

“Um, yeah,” Jen’s left speechless, “sure, that would be great.”

Pacey peeks his head above the hood narrowing his eyes, the alpha male has been challenged on his own territory, nothing good can come of it. “We’re fine,” he says defensively, “all under control.”

As if on cue another cough spews from the engine.

“Are you sure, I’m pretty handy with tools,” he offers with a deep suave voice.

“I’m not surprised you seem like a giant one,” Pacey counters.

“Look man, I’m just trying to help.”

“And my friend and I have it under control here.”

“Boys, boys,” Jen steps between them, “maybe if we all just work together we can get the job done and I could get out of this with an extra phone number or two,” she turns to our savior.

I bite back my smile, Pacey turns to me for an opinion, “I just want my tan,” I shrug.

“I think we’re good here,” Pacey concludes, “we’re good right Jack?”

“Um,” he looks down at the steaming car wearily.

“Fine, so you can go take those bulging biceps of yours and fuck off.”

“Somebody sounds a little threatened,” I mutter, Jen laughs.

“Fine man, whatever,” Biceps says turning back to his car and driving off.

Jen waves sadly I pat Pacey on the shoulder, “You happy now?” Digging through my bag I pull out my beloved cell phone pacing down the side of the road in search of a tow truck.

~*~

They drag our smoking hunk of junk and us to some small auto shop on the edge of an empty town. “Why did we miss our flight again?” Jack nearly cries as spring break begins to evaporate from our grasp.

“How long will it take to fix her?” Pacey asks.

“I don’t know, she seems pretty beat up?” The man drones with the dullest voice I’ve ever heard.

“It’s just we have somewhere to be,” Jack pipes in.

“I can try to fix her by the mornin’ but I got other things on my plate.”

We look around the empty garage, “Thanks for that,” Pacey says dryly.

We head down the nearly abandoned streets the dirt kicking along our feet and I wonder if this is one of those ghost towns you see in westerns, the I realize we’re on the East Coast still.

“What could we possibly do here?” Jen questions.

We check into the closest hotels brushing up on our quarter bouncing skills that we’re bound to use when we finally get to Miami. The television contains 8 channels, 3 of them are NBC, the comforters haven’t been cleaned… ever. This was all a bad idea. Jack wondered out an hour ago, I don’t think we’ll ever be seeing him again.

My phone rings and I’m surprised I still have service. “Hello?”

“Hi ma’am, this is about a red Mustang that was dropped off at my shop this morning, she’s done and ready for pickup.”

“That’s fantastic,” I glow, “how much is it going to be?”

“Well I had to replace a few parts to get ‘er running again and she was a pretty big job so I’d say about $525.”

“What,” my jaw drops, “we don’t have that kind of money.”

“I’m sorry ma’am,” he says with as little emotion possible, “she’ll be down here waiting till you do.”

“Yeah thanks,” I say. “Bad news,” I tell everyone, “it’s going to cost us over $500 to get out of here.”

“That’s crap,” Jen exclaims.

“Has anybody seen a bank or an ATM or something where we can get some more money?” I wonder.

“They don’t even have a Starbucks here,” Pacey argues, “of course not.”

“So how much do we have collectively?” I ask already emptying my pockets.

“Two hundred thirty eight dollars and eighteen cents,” Pacey counts.

“That’s still nearly 290 short,” I argue.

“286.82 to be exact,” Jen fills in. “Aren’t there some karaoke or bull riding contests out there to win?”

“That’s so clichéd,” I dismiss; we’re going to have to get this money somewhere else.

Suddenly Jack breaks through the door, “You guys they have this awesome drinking contest tonight, the prize is $203.08!”

“That’s still not enough,” Jen sighs.

“Wait,” Pacey perks up, “Jack how much money do you have?”

Jack digs through his pockets, “Um, $83.74, why?”

I quickly do the math, “That’s perfect!”

“What is?” Jack asks.

“No questions, just lead us to the liquor,” Jen says slipping past him.

~*~

There are five other people there which causes me to wonder the point of this contest at all. Jen sits beside me, I sit beside some fat leather trucker, I’m terrified. A row of shots sit before us and I wonder why I’m even competing seeing as alcohol and I don’t mix very well.

I glance at the trucker beside me catching sight of the name ‘Bubba’ embroidered to his coat, Jen sees it too. “Hey Jo, isn’t that your first true love right there, you know the real flower robber.”

I blush, “We don’t like to talk about it, it keeps the passion alive.”

“First to puke, spill, or fall is out,” the bar tender announces, “last one drinking wins the prize. First shot…go!”

The liquid burns down my throat leaving a trail as it reaches my stomach; I cringe at first letting it hold. I’m not going to last.

Rounds keep coming; my head feels heavier I don’t even notice the contestants dropping around me. Jen turns around and I can hear her puke behind me which churns my stomach to a new degree. “Next round,” the man announces, these glasses are so goddamn heavy I can barely lift it.

“Keep going, Jo,” I hear Pacey coaxing.

“Why don’t you keep going,” I groan realizing he’s already out too.

“Next round,” I want to slap that guy now.

“Come on Joey, you want out of here don’t you,” Jen says beside me.

“You know what I want,” I slur the words unable to roll off my tongue; “I want a pizza, with cheese on the side, why can’t you ever get that?” I’ve always wondered that.

“We’ll get you a pizza later,” Pacey promises.

“Oh God,” I cringe, “please don’t talk about food.”

“No food, just drink Potter.”

“You know what?” I ask looking at the drink, “this kind of looks like iced tea, did you ever have that iced tea that those New Yorkers make the one with the island in it.”

“Yeah, sure, now be a good girl and drink the bourbon.”

“It’s a lot sweeter then that,” I say, “Pacey do you think I’m sweet?”

“You are a very sweet and kind hearted young woman,” he offers massaging my shoulders, “now drink what the nice man gave you.”

I tip back the shot keeping my head tilted looking up at him, “Not that kind of sweet.”

“What kind of sweet?” Jen asks looking between us with an amused grin.

Pacey gives me ‘cut it’ eyes but I keep on talking anyway, the liquor does it to you, “Last night he said, ‘my God woman you taste sweet’,” I fill in. 

Jen laughs again Pacey continues to massage my shoulders roughly, “We’re not talking about that though,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Yeah shh,” I turn to Jen blocking my lips with my finger, “it’s a secret.”

Jen looks to Pacey, "A secret, is it."

"Yeah," I whisper, "nobody's supposed to know I'm still in love with him."

The smile drains from Jen's face, Pacey's hands freeze above my shoulders and silence crosses us but I'm not sure why.

I pick up my next shot swallowing it with ease, my stomach doesn’t appreciate it. “You know what I was thinking,” I say. “Remember when Mtv was good? You know when they played music videos and stuff?”

“Yeah, we all do,” Jen says sadly.

“I miss that,” I frown picking up the next shot in front of me. “And Brian MacFayden never takes his shirt off.”

“I know,” she pats my back, “I know.”

“If contestant number three holds down this drink a new winner will be crowned,” the announcer man says.

“Oh no, I lost,” I look around sadly, “I’m sorry.”

“No Joey that’s you,” Jack says nearly tripping from his seat, “you’ve got to beat Bubba.”

I look to my side and see Bubba passed out in a massive heap beside me, “Drink it,” everybody chants, now I’m scared.

Downing my last drink I shake my head trying to keep my heavy eyes open, “Did I do it?” I ask Pacey.

“Yeah, you did it,” he says happily yet distantly. At that point my eyes fall shut and I’m not sure how long it will be till I wake up.

~*~

My eyes won’t open, my head refuses to face the light but I force them open anyway assaulted by a stream of morning light. “Oh God where’s the bathroom,” I can’t remember where I am.

"There's our little drinking champion," Pacey's screams, I don't understand why but his voice is so loud it pounds like stallions through my ears.

"Is she finally awake?" Jack comes into view jumping back and forth so frequently I can't focus my eyes on him.

"Puke," I say simply rolling off of the bed hitting the floor with a mighty crash.

Jack guides me to the bathroom, "Just be quick we're already a day and a half behind schedule."

"Fuck you," I mumble in my disposition before contents I hadn't know existed drain from my stomach.

Jen crashes through the doors, "Bad news guys, there's some huge storm sweeping through Florida as we speak, the whole state is more or less under water."

Jack ceremoniously drops my hair and it pools around the toiler bowl. "What?" He asks in shock.

"Spring break is rained out, the water's freezing and the rain washed out all the power, by the time we get down there it will be a disaster zone."

"Ha ha, very funny Jen," Jack says chasing her out of the room, "seriously though."

"I'm not kidding Jack," her voice drifts out of earshot.

Pacey squats beside me helping me to my feet, "Come on Bubba let's get going."

"Bubba?" I narrow my eyes.

"The drinking champion of this fine town gets awarded the nickname Bubba until he or she is dethroned, the guy you beat was 15 years until you knocked him out," he grins proudly. "You've got a shirt and everything." I shield my eyes trying to escape my pounding headache as he holds out a hand of aspirin, "and this my dear is your prize."

"God bless your soul," I say swallowing them greedily.

"And we've got a cup of coffee out there waiting for you."

I pull my hair back into a messy ponytail climbing to my feet, "Well this Florida trip was a bust."

He shrugs a tired shoulder, "Not exactly."

I look at him strangely, "What do you mean? Oh my God did I say something stupid last night?" I try to focus on the blur but it's all lost.

"I wouldn't say it was stupid," he dismisses, "just interesting."

It suddenly becomes clear, "Oh my God I told you that—."

"It's okay, you were drunk," he cuts off almost sadly.

"Pacey, I," I reach out but it seems inappropriate to touch him.

"First rule of alcohol, anything say can't be held against you."

I sit on the edge of the tub holding my head in my hands, "I'm just so confused that's all, with everything that's been going on between us."

"You mean the sex?" He sits beside me.

"Duh the sex," I reply dumbly. "It's just we used to hold that activity on such a high pedestal when we were dating and now we engage in it as if it never even mattered."

"I know," he nods, "I'm just as confused as you are."

"And I don't know, maybe we keep on doing it because it's the last part of us to hold onto."

"Well it would be a lie to say that I didn't miss you," he says.

I bite my lip, "But there's been so much pain leftover that hurts too much to forget."

"Yeah," he says quietly eyes drawn to the floor, "where do we go from here?"

"I want to know that we're mature enough to be together," I say, "and I'm not quite sure that we are. I don't want your insecurities to push me away, and I don't want to do something monumentally stupid to feed them."

"But we've both grown so much Jo," he argues, "I'm not Capeside anymore, I've gotten out. And you, you've got this confidence that I always knew you would find. All the obstacles that we set up last year to excuse our end have fallen and there's only one thing left."

I furrow my brows, "What's that?"

"The love, Jo. No matter how hard I try to forget it, it just won't go away. That's why I need to touch you when we're close why I came to Boston in the first place. My heart, it's just not happy without you."

I frown a warm tear forming in the crease of my eye, "I miss you Pace," I mumble.

He wraps his arm around my shoulder pulling me close, "We'll make it work," he whispers. 

And I know that we will this time.