The sound of the door closing behind me resonates in the dimly lit hallway and I breathe out a long sigh, resting my body against the hard wood of the door that I just slammed. All of my energy is completely drained, every ounce of the strength that I had now used to force those few words out.
Who knew that standing up for yourself could be so painful? I'm so used to loosing myself in her, forgetting about the reasons why we shouldn't be together, thinking that everything is fine, when nothing can be further from the truth. I don't seem to have a spine when I'm around her. All logic flies out the window and I can only give into the magnetic pull that we have towards each other.
I feel both better and worse. I thought that I needed to take a stand, to have either all of her or nothing at all. But that was when I was foolishly being optimistic, thinking she would give us a real chance. She couldn't even say anything.
I slowly push away from the door and begin down the hall. I almost want to stay just to see if she'll chase me or to see how long she'll wait for me to come back. Not long, I'm sure. We can't have Dawson getting suspicious now, can we?
And practically on cue--which is just like Dawson, always managing to pull off the typical movielike confrontation--I turn the corner and run right into him.
"Pacey," he smiles. "I was just coming to see you."
I feel like a deer caught in headlights. Talk about nearly being caught in the act. I somehow manage a smile and nervously switch from one foot to the other. I hope he won't notice the look of guilt and complete shock that I'm so desperately trying to hide. "You were coming to see me? What for?" I stammer.
"I have to have a reason to see you now? No wonder we've been spending so little time together, lately, " he laughs. God, he came over to spend time with me after I've just finished fucking his girlfriend.
"No, of course you don't," I say, smiling halfheartedly. "Uh, I just thought that you worked until late tonight."
My heart begins beating widely in my chest, the fact that Joey is still in my apartment hits me like a truck. Shit.
"Well, I was just finishing up the--"
"Ah, you know what, Dawson?" I interrupt, pointing down the hallway. I have to get him out of here before Joey decides to make an exit. "You want to go get a bite to eat? All I have in my fridge are some ketchup packets and a box of baking soda." I hate myself. "What do you say we get some Chinese or something? I'm starved"
He looks at me strangely, then nods. "Ah, sure. That sounds okay."
I've gotten so good at avoiding Dawson that I had almost forgotten how hard it was to be around him.
"So," he says, taking a large bite out of an egg role and pausing to swallow. "How have you been? It feels like I haven't seen you in ages. You avoiding me?"
"No, just busy," I lie, trying to act like there's something extremely interesting on my plate so that I won't have to look him in the eye. If he only knew just how busy I'd really been lately. I try to change the focus back to his favorite topic: himself. "So, how's everything with you?"
"Well, works been great. They're finally starting to wise up and listen to me at the station."
A year or so ago, Dawson somehow used his mom's connections to get himself a job as a television producer. "That's good to hear," I say.
"You know, like I've always said, I could pull some strings and get you a job there."
I hate when he does this. "Thanks, Dawson, but you know that I already have a job."
"Oh come on, you can do better than just working at a restaurant."
I'm starting to forget about the feeling-sorry-for-him part. "I don't want to do better. I'm happy there. And it's not like I'm a waitor anymore, I manage the place."
He shrugs and looks at me like I'm crazy. "Fine, fine, forget it," he says. "So, how's everything else?"
Not so great. "Um, fine," I lie.
"You know, Joey and I were just talking about how we never see you anymore."
I try not to react to the sound of her name as I pick up a piece of chicken and stuff it into my mouth, making a show of chewing it just so that I don't have to answer him. Instead, I only nod in response. A smile spreads across his face and I suddenly become nervous again, not really knowing why. Hell, all he has to do is blink and I turn into a nervous, bumbling wreck.
"Listen," he begins, putting down his fork and resting his elbows on the table. "You know how I said I didn't need a reason to see you?" I nod. "Well, I lied. There is a reason why I came over. I need your advice on something."
Oh fuck.
He smiles triumphantly and reaches into the pocket of his jacket. "I think that I'm going to ask Joey to marry me," he says, pulling out the black velvet box and setting it in front of me on the table. I nearly choke on my mouthful of rice and force myself to swallow it, feeling instantly lightheaded. I think I'm going to be sick. Dawson eyes me strangely as I struggle to keep myself breathing.
"Wow," I say in-between short gulps of air, trying to act like I haven't just had my entire world crumble around me. "You--you are?"
Dawson looks puzzled. "Yeah. What? You don't think it's a good idea?"
I shake my head. What the hell am I supposed to say? "No, I just--I didn't know that you guys were, ah, at that step yet."
"Well, I think we are," he says, almost defensively.
I seem to lose all feeling in my hands. God, I can't believe this. "Well, does Joey?"
"I wouldn't have bought this if I didn't think that she would say yes," he says, pointing back to the ring.
"Right," I nod. Of course she'll say yes. Who am I kidding? She loves him. She loves Dawson.
"So?" he asks. "You think I should go for it?"
I glance up from the ring and slowly back to him.
"Yes, Dawson," I say slowly. "You should."