Famaliar Faces

The truck surged on through the heavy rain, its headlights making the rain-soaked pavement glisten. She watched as the dark brick houses passed by, every one unrecognizable in the thick haze. She wasn’t sure how long she had been driving, but it must have been long enough to take her out of the city, because she didn’t see anything that was remotely familiar to her. Ignoring the small red light that was flashing on her dashboard, indicating that she was low on gas, she continued down the almost empty highway, heading nowhere in particular.

The only thing that she could hear was the rain, and every few seconds, there was the sound of the wipers sloshing over the fogged windshield. She remembered when she used to love the sound of the pounding rain. It would bring her peace and strangely, it would bring her comfort. She loved the way the rain would quiet the whole world, sending everyone scampering indoors, leaving the streets barren and the sidewalks abandoned. She felt as if she had the whole world to herself, but now, things were different. The constant shower of water brought back memories that she had painfully tucked away long ago. And the silence that the rain brought only made her feel more lonely. She laughed bitterly at her own situation. Her crying all alone in the rain. What a cliché.

Tears began to slowly trickle down her cheek, but she didn’t bother to wipe them away. It wasn’t like there was anyone there for her to hide them from. There was only herself, and she was sick of pretending. She was sick of trying to ignore the pain and she was sick of always being the strong one.

The shining of a bright neon sign attracted her attention. It was the only thing that she could see along the dark highway, because most stores were shut down by this hour. Squinting, she was able to make out the lettering. It was for a bar, Tony’s Tavern. Even though she knew that she would eventually be driving home, she still decided to pull over. She could use a drink. Hell, she could use a lot more than just that. She stepped out of her truck and shut the door behind her with a loud thud, forgetting the umbrella that sat inside on the passengers seat. Trudging through the rain and wet dirt, she made her way over to the heavy wooden door and opened it weakly, exposing the dank bar that was empty except for a small group of men in business suits and a haggard old man who was nursing a large glass of beer. She made her way over to the bar and signaled the bartender with a wave of her hand.

"Bourbon, straight up," she said, ignoring the flirtatious looks that the old man was giving her. The bartender nodded his head without a word and went off to fix her drink.

"Hello there," the old man said in a slurred voice as she took the empty seat next to him. "You come here often?"

She couldn’t help but laugh. Here she was, in some lonely bar, getting hit on by a guy that was more than twice her age. This was the last thing she needed.

"Um, no," she replied, considering whether or not she should tell this guy to beat it.

"You’re smart," he said, raising his voice slightly so that bartender could hear him. "This place is a dump."

The bartender laughed to himself as he put the cap back on the bourbon. "A dump, huh? I guess that’s why you’re here every night. Isn’t it, Frank? Or do you just come here for the women?"

"The women, definitely," he said, raising his glass toward the young woman.

"Just ignore him," the bartender whispered, as he placed her glass of bourbon on the napkin that sat in front of her. She nodded in thanks and picked up the glass without hesitation, taking a quick sip. The rich brown liquid slid down her throat, forcing her to wince at the strong taste. She closed her eyes tightly and prayed that this would help her forget her problems for at least one night.

Pacey pulled out his cell phone and dialed his number, plugging his other ear to hear over his friend's loud chatter.

"Hello," a gentle voice crooned, making Pacey smile.

"Hey, Rachel. It’s me."

"Hi, honey."

"Hi," he replied, choosing to leave out the pet name that he called her because he knew that his friends were listening.

"So, what’s the occasion?" Rachel interrogated.

"What?" Pacey asked, surprised at her unpleasant tone of voice.

"You’re actually calling me on time for once," she joked, the edge leaving her voice.

"Yeah, and don’t get used to it," Pacey laughed.

"So, are you coming home soon? Because I was planning on a romantic evening tonight. You know, an amazing dinner, candles, roses and all that good stuff."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, and if you’re good, I’ll even let you join in."

"Oh, ha ha," he said wryly.

"So?" Rachel asked again. "When are you coming home?"

"Well," Pacey hesitated. "That’s actually why I was calling. I--,"

"I should’ve known," she groaned. "What is it this time? Helping an old lady cross the street? Saving a group of children from a burning orphanage? What, Pacey?"

"Well, now that you mention it..."

"Pacey!"

"Me and the guys are just having a couple of drinks."

"Well, at least you have a good excuse," she said sarcastically.

"It’s not for social purposes, honey. It’s just business," he explained.

"Whatever. Just come home soon."

"I will."

"But you can forget about that romantic evening I promised," she threatened.

"Awww," he whined.

"Anyway," she said, quickly changing the subject. "Call me on your way home."

"Okay, I will. Bye honey."

"Bye. I love you,"

"I love you, too," he said, the words still carrying a degree of discomfort. He hung up his cell phone and placed it back in his pocket.

Mike and Jake chuckled. "I love you, too," they mimicked.

"What?" Pacey asked, eyeing his friends. "What’s so funny?"

"You looked almost looked terrified saying that," Jake laughed, his voice coming out slurred due to the many drinks that they had consumed so far.

"Yeah, man," Mike agreed. "You’ve been dating her for how long now? A year? A year and a half? And you still can’t say those three little words without shaking."

"This coming from the guy that has never said ‘I love you’ to anyone other than his mother," Pacey smirked, desperately trying to get the focus off of himself.

"I'm too busy getting laid," Mike said to Jake as they clinked their beer glasses together loudly.

Pacey groaned and glanced around the bar impatiently, considering whether or not he could walk home from here. He wasn’t in the mood for this.

And that was the moment that he saw her.

Her.

The one and only Joey Potter. He couldn’t believe it.

In that second, everything around him seemed to fade away. He no longer heard the whining of the women’s voice that was coming out of the old jukebox, and he didn’t hear the drunken, mindless chatter that his two friends were making right next to him. He only saw her.

She was storming through the front door, soaking wet and clearly agitated, yet somehow she still looked just as beautiful as ever. No matter how many years had passed, he still remembered her beautiful face.

Her soft features hadn’t changed much, but her expressions had. She no longer looked like the strong, funny and intelligent woman that he had fallen in love with so many years ago. She no longer had that beautiful smile lighting up her face. Instead, she wore a look of defeat and of agony. He couldn’t help but wonder if he had done this to her. If he was the cause of all her pain.

Her dark hair was soaking wet and clinging to her face, but she obviously didn’t care. She had never been known for caring about other people’s opinions of her. For some reason she had cared about his once, but that was a long time ago. And now here she was, perched at the bar with a glass in her hand. ‘Probably bourbon,’ he thought to himself with a smile. He watched as she traced the rim of the glass absentmindedly with her thumb, completely lost in her own world, ignoring Frank’s relentless pick up lines.

After watching her for a while, he left his table of drunken friends and walked over to the bar, taking the vacant seat next to her. He didn’t know where this sudden surge of courage had come from, but it disappeared the second that he was next to her. She was more beautiful than ever. Even more beautiful than she was as a teenager, which Pacey didn’t even think could be possible.

He was slightly relieved that she hadn’t looked at him. He hadn’t thought this far ahead and he didn’t have the slightest idea of what he was supposed to say to her. And he couldn’t help but wonder if she would recognize him. It had been years since they had last seen each other, but they had so much history together. So many memories.

He kept his eyes fixed on her and closely examined her every breath, her every move, as if he was trying to memorize them, but he knew very well that he already had. He would never be able to forget her, or any of her little idiosyncrasies. The way she would tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, or how she would chew on the flesh of her bottom lip when she was nervous, or how she would role her eyes and give him a crooked smile whenever he would make a bad joke. But there were some things that he remembered more clearly than others, like how she would run her fingers over the back of his neck when the kissed, or the way she would rub his back as they fell asleep together, or the feeling he would get each time that she told him that she loved him. Those were the memories that were the most painful. Those were the ones that he missed the most.

He watched as she took the last sip of her drink and called the bartender back over to her, pointing to her empty glass.

"Give me another one," Joey said, sliding the glass over to the bartender. He refilled it and set it back in front of her. Pacey didn’t know what he was going to say, but he knew that he had to say something. He was dying to talk to her.

"Well," the bartender said. "That’s two bourbons, so you owe me $6.50."

"Okay," she said, reaching for her purse. This was Pacey’s chance. He had to speak up. "Please, let me," he said as he reached into his pocket and tossed the bartender a ten-dollar bill. "Keep the change," he mumbled absentmindedly.

She was in no mood to argue with the man who sat next to her at the bar. She could have easily paid her own tab, but she felt slightly flattered that he had offered. It had been a long time since she was hit on, except for Frank of course. She turned to face him and despite what was going on in her head, she forced herself to smile.

"Thank you," she said, glancing up at his handsome face. There was something very comforting about his eyes, something incredibly familiar. He smiled back at her and held out his slightly trembling hand for her to shake.

Frank, noticing this, slammed his glass down on the bar with a loud thud. "Hey," he argued, getting up from his stool and stumbling over to the young man. "I saw her first, buddy."

Pacey held up his hands in peace, humoring the old man. "Hey, I was just--"

"Listen," the bartender interrupted. "I think that you’ve had enough to drink for the night, Frank. What do you say we go call you a cab? Okay Frank?"

Frank gave the woman one more good look up and down and then winked at her, before reluctantly following the bartender over to the phone.

Pacey watched the old man hobble off and he couldn’t help but laugh. She did too, which he took as a good sign. He had expected her to beat him to death, but she hadn’t recognized him yet, so he was sure that the beating would be coming soon enough.

"It looks like I’ve got some competition," he joked. "Frank must really like you. He hardly ever comes on to anyone but the regular barflies."

"Lucky me," she replied sarcastically. "And he’s just my type, too. I love a man that’s older than my father."

"I know what you mean, adult diapers can be such a turn on."

"Not to mention the enlarged prostate," she said, laughing.

"Thanks," he said sarcastically, putting down his beer. "That’s a nice mental picture. Suddenly my beer doesn’t seem very appetizing anymore."

He watched her crack a small smile. That beautiful smile that he would do anything to see. He was relieved that she still had the wit and the sarcastic nature that he had always loved, yet there was still something different about her. He wasn’t at all surprised, though. He was sure that he had changed a lot since then, too, but he couldn’t deny that he was hurt. She still hadn’t recognized him. After all they had been through, she still had no idea who he was. He remembered how different things were back then. He was no longer that 16 year old kid that had fallen in the love with the one girl that he shouldn’t have. He would give anything to be that kid again, but there would be a few things that he would do differently.

"So," he said, trying to keep their conversation going. "I don’t think that I’ve seen you around here before."

"Well, that’s a distinct probability," she replied, watching the bourbon swirl around in her glass as she turned it, practically ignoring her newfound drinking companion.

"Oh, so you’re a virgin to Tony’s Tavern?" he asked playfully, trying to get any kind of reaction out of her that he could. Trying to get her to look away from her drink and at him.

She laughed and put down her glass, noticing the mischief in his voice. "I think that I’ll ignore that little comment," she said, turning her attention to the window as she watched the rain beat down outside.

"Do you live here in Winchester?" he asked, studying her face closely.

"No, Boston." she replied distractedly.

"What?" he asked. This was something that he had never expected. How could she have been living so close to him for all this time? "I’m surprised I haven’t run into you before," he commented.

"Well," she replied, slightly confused, "Massachusetts is a big place. I doubt that you’ve met everybody that lives here. Especially not me."

He would have laughed if he had been in a different situation. He hadn’t truly laughed in a long time. ‘How ironic,’ he thought. ‘If she only knew.’

She raised her left hand to tuck a loose strand of her dark brown hair behind her ear. He glanced at it and was relieved to see that her ring finger was bare of a wedding band.

His thoughts were interrupted as she called the bartender back over for one more refill.

"That’s $3.25, ma’am," the bartender told her.

"I’ve got this one," Joey said to Pacey. She didn’t want him to think that she owed him anything in return for the drinks that he had bought her so far. There was something strange about him. Something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

"Do you take checks?" she asked, rummaging through her purse. "I seem to be out of cash."

"Sure. That’s fine," the bartender replied.

She reached into her purse and pulled out her checkbook. Pacey’s eyes skimmed over the last name on the check and in that split second, his world came crashing down around him.

He could almost feel his heart stop beating and his chest painfully tightened with hurt. Everything seemed to stop. He couldn’t breathe.

The check read: Josephine Leery.

Leery?

He repeated the name over and over again in his head. It couldn’t be true. She couldn’t have married him. Anybody but him.

Joey downed her glass of bourbon in two gulps. "Well," she said, picking up her purse and jacket. "Thanks for the drinks, but I think that I better get going."

"What?" he asked, snapping out of his thoughts.

"I’ve had a hard day. I just want to go home and curl up in bed. It was nice talking to you. You cheered me up, which is almost impossible to do, but I better go," she said, turning toward the direction of the door.

"Joey, wait," he said, standing up as well.

When she heard him call her name, she stopped dead in her tracks.

"I never told you my name," she said, refusing to turn around.

Shit. How could he possibly explain how he knew? How could explain any of this. Who he was. How it all had happened.

Joey slowly turned to face him, an expression of shock on her now pale face. For a few seconds, she stood stock-still in front of him as though she couldn’t speak. There was something about him that made her think of someone. Someone that she had tried hard to forget. ‘Get a grip, Joey. It couldn’t be him,’ she thought, trying in vain to reassure herself. But those eyes were so familiar. She could never forget those eyes. She shook her. She told herself that it was just the alcohol.

Pacey returned her look of shock as he hesitated, like he was going through some kind of interior struggle. By the look on Joey’s face, he could tell that she was still waiting for an answer to her question.

"Um," he began slowly, chickening out of telling her the truth immediately. "I noticed it when you were writing your check."

"Oh," she said sheepishly. "Sorry, I just thought that I might know you from somewhere. You look sort of familiar."

The only thing that he could manage to do was nod his head mutely.

"Well, maybe I’ll see you around," she said, turning away from him and walking over toward the door.

He couldn’t even speak. Hell, he was surprised that he had actually gotten himself to start breathing again.

His options were playing themselves over and over in his head. And with a sudden surge of courage he ran over to the old jukebox and popped in a quarter. He didn’t even have to read the numbers on the song that he wanted. He had played it a thousand times before. He reached his hand over and hit the button for A-12.

Joey had almost reached the door when the soft music began playing. The familiar notes hit her like an anvil. And suddenly, it all made sense. It was him. His eyes, his voice, his smile. It was really him, and now he was playing their song. The song that she had listened to a thousand times, hoping that she would hear it again someday from the comfort of his arms. Her knees gave out and she stumbled toward the nearest empty chair.

She knew that he was staring at her from across the room. She could feel his eyes digging into her, waiting for some kind of reaction, some recognition. But she didn’t know what to say, she didn’t know what she could do. She just listened. She let the beautiful words sink into her. Years ago, this song was something that they listened to together, danced to together and fell asleep to together. And now it was something that she dreaded. It was something that brought back memories of them together. Memories that made her whole body ache with longing and pain.

When the song finally ended, Joey let her tears fall freely down her face. She then buried her head into her hands and wept, letting out all the pain that she had been holding back for so many years. He came to her slowly and placed his hand on her shoulder, trying to do whatever he could to stop her tears. He hated seeing her cry.

She jumped when she felt his touch. She hated that he still had this effect on her. The memories came flooding back to her and she just couldn’t take it. She had to get out. Jumping up from her chair, she pushed past him and fled towards the door, hoping that he wouldn’t follow her.

She heard his foot steps behind her and she heard his voice calling for her, but she couldn’t let herself turn around. This was too much for her to take. She dug through her purse, trying to find her keys so that she could get away from him, away from all the pain that he had caused her.

"Joey," he shouted. "Wait! Joey!"

The rain outside was beating down furiously and he had to lift his hands to shield his eyes from it. Looking quickly from left to right, he eventually saw her standing there in the blinding rain, furiously rummaging through her purse. He ran up to her and grabbed her by the elbow, turning her around to face him. Crying out loudly, she dropped her purse, not expecting his maneuver. With his hand gripping her elbow tightly, he stared down at her, waiting for an explanation for her dramatic exit, even though he already had a perfectly good one. She was unable to speak as the rain washed away the tears that were flowing from her tired eyes. Her sobs were muffled by the sound of thunder, but he could feel her body shaking violently with them. Suddenly, feeling her anger rising, she wrenched her arm away from his and shoved him with all of her strength. He stumbled backwards, but managed to keep his balance.

"You just left me," she cried out, in between her sobs.

He took a step back, expecting her to through another blow at him, but instead she collapsed to the ground and began to sob uncontrollably. He ran to her side and placed his hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off quickly, not wanting to be reminded of what his touch felt like.

"I’m so sorry," he whispered into her ear, trying to keep himself from crying, too. He reached over and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. Just like he used to when he would kiss her goodnight.

"I’m so sorry," he repeated softly.

She paused for a moment, holding her breath, trying to do anything she could to stop herself from crying. She didn’t want him to see her like this. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know how much he had meant to her, how unhappy she had been without him. Wiping her eyes, she managed to calm herself down.

"Tell me why," she said quietly, her watery eyes glued to the ground.

He ran his hands through his soaked hair in frustration. "I did it for you," he said, his voice shaking.

"Bullshit," she exclaimed, managing to pull herself up off of the ground. "You’re such a coward. You can’t even tell me the truth after all this time. I’ve got to get out of here," she said, grabbing her purse. She stumbled towards her car and ran to her driver’s seat door. He scrambled quickly to the other side and opened the passenger side door, jumping in, too.

"Get out," she yelled, noticing his presence.

"No, not until you let me explain," he said, trying his best to steady his shaking voice.

She turned her head away from him and looked out of the windshield, watching as the rain streaked across it. She remembered the last fight that they had gotten into. The night before he had left her. It was raining then, too.

"I’m waiting, Pacey." she replied coldly.

Where would he start? How could he possibly justify the actions that he himself had regretted ever since that very day? He might as well start with the truth.

"Joey, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to tell you, I--, things were just so complicated, and I didn’t--. I don’t know," he stammered.

Joey laughed harshly. "That’s a fucking great explanation, Pacey."

He took in a deep breath, trying his best to keep himself together. "You want an explanation? Okay, fine," he began. "The night that you told Dawson what was going on between us--, well, you could say that he was considerably upset. Furious, in fact, and he came looking for me. And not only did he find me, but he beat the crap out of me, too" he said, replaying the many events of that night in his head. "And then he told me that I was worthless and that I didn’t deserve you. That I had broken his heart and betrayed our friendship—and he was right, of course. I mean, this was the guy that I grew up with, my best friend for years, the guy that would’ve trusted me with his life and I had betrayed him. and after the months of pretending, the months of acting like everything would be okay, it was the first time that the consequences of my actions really hit me. I couldn’t pretend like things were fine when Dawson was standing right there in front of my face, knowing what I had been doing with his fiancée for the last 8 months."

"So you just left? You didn’t care that I would have to face him? You didn’t care that I had to deal with his rejection...and yours, too?"

"I just--, I wanted you to be happy and I felt like a jerk for screwing up your life, and not to mention his. I don’t know what happened. I panicked. I couldn’t stick around to see all of the damage that I had caused, or all of the people that I had hurt. And I couldn’t face you. You deserved more than what we had."

"Who are you to decide what it is that I deserve? You knew that I wanted you, not Dawson. You knew that I loved you. Wasn’t that enough?"

"No," he said slowly. "It wasn’t. You wanted him, too. And you loved him. You dragged me along for eight months, telling me that you loved me, but it was his bed that you would end up in at night. It was his ring that you were wearing, not mine. Do you think that I enjoyed watching you go home with him every night? Did you think that I enjoyed knowing that he would fuck you right after we had been together? You obviously didn’t love me, Joey, because you would’ve known how hard it was for me."

In the past, despite how much he had loved Joey, despite the hundreds of times that she had told Pacey that she loved him and not Dawson, he had always felt like Dawson and Joey would somehow end up together. You can only hear the words ‘soul mates’, and ‘inexplicably intertwined’ so many times before you start to believe it. The fact that she stayed with Dawson for so long didn’t do much to quiet his doubts.

"Pacey, Dawson was my first love. He was my best friend--my family. It’s not easy to let go of something like that, and telling him that I was leaving him for his best friend wasn’t something that I was looking forward to, either, but I did it anyway. I did it for you, because I loved you," she yelled, losing control over her voice. "And you want to sit there and act like I'm the villain. That I didn't love you. Well, fuck you, Pacey, because you didn't know me at all."

Pacey's face softened. He had never meant for this to turn into another argument. This wasn't her fault and he knew it, no matter how many times he had lied to himself and tried to blame this on her.

"God, I'm sorry, Jo," he said, struggling to try and make her understand that he really was sorry. "All I wanted to do was apologize to you and I ended up doing the exact opposite. I guess that it's just the old Witter temper getting the best of me," he said, stopping for a moment to gauge her reaction. She turned to face him, but her expressions didnt change. "Listen," he continued. "I want you to know that I've regretted what I did ever since that day. I never wanted to hurt you. There's nothing I can say but I’m sorry," he said, never letting his eyes leave hers. "I was wrong."

She stared back at him unwillingly. There was something about his eyes that always seemed to pull her in. The expression of remorse in them spoke more to her than his previous words had. He seemed so sincere, but she couldn’t let him get to her. She didn’t have to forgive him. She didn’t owe him anything.

Staring into his eyes, she couldn’t help but wonder what hers were telling him. She hoped that the he couldn’t see the great effect that he still had on her. The way he made her go weak in the knees. How badly she wanted to reach out to him, to hold him, to kiss him, to tell him that she still loved him, to pretend like the past never happened and that everything would somehow be okay in the end. But she had to be strong. No matter how badly it hurt, she would have to say goodbye before she let herself give into him. She wouldn’t trust him again with her love. It was far too powerful.

"Well," Joey said slowly after clearing her throat. "You’ve done it, you apologized, so I think that our little trip down memory lane is complete," she said, turning her head away from him.

"This can’t be it, Joey," he pleaded.

"Hey, you’re lucky. At least you get a goodbye. I got nothing from you. You just walked out on me," she shouted, trying to make herself seem more powerful and to put herself in control of the situation. Her eyes narrowed as she stared him down. "You always were a coward, weren’t you, Pacey?" she asked harshly, deliberately doing whatever she could to hurt him. Her words had stung him and he couldn’t hide it. He didn’t want to hide it.

"You’re right," he began, dropping his head in defeat. "I was a coward, and I’ve paid for that everyday since then. I’ve been miserable."

"You’ve been miserable?" Joey mocked.

"Of course I have, Jo. You think that I don’t regret leaving? I would do anything to take it back."

"Well, you know what I would take back?" Joey asked seriously. Pacey shook his head weakly in response. "I would have never come to you that night," she said, pausing slightly. "I would have never let you kiss me, or let you tell me how you felt. Hell, I wish that I had never met you at all," she said, looking away from him. Looking at anything but him.

Even though she never regretted a second that she had spent with him, that didn't matter to her now. The pain that she had felt since that day was just as strong. As strong as the love that she had felt for him before.

"That can't be true," Pacey said hopefully.

"You know, that's the same thing that I said when I found out that you had left town. When I found out that you had left me," she said angrily. "Now just do me a favor and get the fuck out of my car."

"Just tell me one thing first."

"What?"

"Your check. It said Josephine Leery. Did you," he stopped. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to know the answer to his question or not. "Well, did you really...marry him?"

"You didn’t know?" Joey asked, slightly shocked. "I'm surprised. The details of my marriage to Dawson were quite the hot piece of gossip back then."

"So," he began slowly. "You're not married to him anymore, are you?"

"What does it matter, Pacey? Are you planning on walking off into the sunset with me? Are you expecting a happy ending? Because it’s not going to happen. Not after what you did to me."

"Oh, so this is it? I’ve been waiting for four years to see you again and I’m just supposed to get up and walk away from you?" he asked raising his voice.

"It wouldn’t be the first time," she replied coldly. Pacey took in a slow breath. She was still as stubborn as ever.

"Joey," he begged. "Please, just talk to me. Yell at me. Punch me. Do anything. Just don’t leave yet. Please."

She looked into his pleading eyes. She could feel herself immediately weakening to his charm. This was exactly what she didn’t want. For him to get to her, but he was and she couldn’t do anything to stop it.

"Well," she replied slowly. "I wouldn’t mind punching you a couple times."

Pacey smiled. "Well, it’s a start," he said, incredibly relieved. "What you say we go back inside and get a drink?"

"I’m going to need more than just one," she mumbled to herself, stepping out of the truck and following him reluctantly back into the bar.

Pacey held on to Joey as tightly as he could, like he was afraid to let go. And he was. Feeling her body so close to his was like heaven and he wasn’t about to let that go.

"Pacey?" Joey asked, reaching over to gently stroke his cheek.

"What?"

"Is it true?"

Pacey smiled and kissed her cheek. "Of course it’s true," he said seriously. "I love you, Jo."

Joey couldn’t describe how good it felt to hear him say those words. She had no idea why, but it just did. "Why didn’t you ever tell me before?" she asked, staring into eyes, unable to look away.

"Well, being rejected by you twice in high school didn’t really do much for my confidence, and the fact that you’re engaged to my best friend might have had something to do with it," he said with a smile, not even being bothered by the fact that he had brought up her and Dawson’s engagement. Nobody could say anything to make Pacey unhappy at that moment, because his arms were wrapped around the arms of the women that he loved and she was actually hugging him back.

"Pacey?"

"What?" he asked, kissing her shoulder tenderly.

"Would you do we a favor?" Joey asked. Pacey nodded his head in response. "If I ever turn back into my normal self and start analyzing this to death, would you tell me to shut up and remind me of how good it felt to lie here in your arms?"

"Babe, I’m going to remind you of that whether you turn back into your normal self or not."

"Good, cause I never want to forget."

Pacey couldn’t help but smile. Hell, he was practically floating. "Would you pinch me?" he asked.

"What?" Joey asked, laughing. "I think that’s a little too kinky. Even for me, Pacey."

"No," Pacey said shaking his head. "I just wanted to make sure that I wasn’t dreaming."

Joey laughed. "You know, I think that we’re both dreaming, Pacey, because I’m usually never this corny."

"You are acting a little sappy, aren’t you, Potter?"

"Hey, I’m not the one who said ‘I love you’," Joey said, lightly poking him in the ribs.

Pacey smiled, running his hands delicately through her hair. "Well, I think that I know how to tell if we’re dreaming," he said, his voice low and suggestive.

"Oh, really?" she asked coyly, raising an eyebrow.

"Really," he confirmed, pulling her even closer and letting his hand drift slowly underneath the sheets.

"Why, Mr. Witter," she said short of breath. "You wouldn’t be trying to seduce me again, would you?" she asked, smiling.

"What would give you that idea?" he joked, kissing her softly. "Besides, Jo, I already have."

Pacey and Joey sat at a small table at the end of the bar. Things had been quiet so far as they both sipped their drinks. Joey didn’t know what to say. She just stared at him. She couldn’t help it. Through all of their fighting so far that night, she hadn’t really let herself look at him too closely. His face had aged through the years and he looked more mature, more handsome and more like a man. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t recognized him at first. He was much more serious, more pensive. His hair was slightly shorter and a deeper shade of chestnut, but it suited him well. She wondered what she must look like to him. Probably like hell, because that’s exactly how she felt.

Each silent second that passed between them seemed like hours. The ticking of the large clock that sat on the wall grew louder and louder with each tick, until it was almost deafening. One of them would have to speak eventually, but neither knew what to say. Joey eventually excused herself from the table. She needed time to think. She needed time to process what was going on.

The icy cold water ran quickly down the drain, swirling with a great force. She turned the knob for the hot water and watched as it hit the bottom of the sink, mixing with the cold water and then swirling away into the empty blackness. She would give anything to be able to disappear like that. To be able to swirl into oblivion. Then there would be no more questions to answer. There would be no more painful memories to relive. And most of all, there would be no Pacey Witter. Although she had rehearsed what she would say if she ever saw him again over and over in her head, she was far from prepared. Her mind seemed to go blank with one glance into his eyes. Those beautiful eyes that seemed to speak volumes to her.

In her mind, he had always been the bad guy. She believed that he was the one that was responsible for making her the cold, bitter and lonely woman that she was now, but after tonight she wasn’t so sure anymore. If she went back out there, she would have to listen to his reasons and his excuses about what had happened. What if those reasons were logical, or what if his excuses were valid? Who would she blame then? Who was left to accuse for making her life miserable? Dawson? Her family? Her job? It was useless. She had to stop pointing fingers and take responsibility for her own actions, but it was easier said than done.

She cupped her hands under the running water and filled them slowly. Then, with one quick movement, she splashed the water over her whole face in a lame attempt to calm her wracked nerves. Lifting her head slowly, she looked up into the worn bathroom mirror. Undisturbed by the water droplets that ran off the tip of her nose and landed on the edge of the sink with a splash, she stared into her own eyes. They were cold, melancholy, even empty. They seemed to be longing for something, needing something, missing something. And with that one look, she realized what it was that she needed, what she was longing for and what it was that she was missing.

It was him. She needed him. She longed for him. She missed him.

Pacey fixed his gaze on the bathroom door. She hadn’t been in there for long, but Pacey had a feeling that she was climbing out of the bathroom window, or hatching some plan to get herself away from him. He wouldn’t have really blamed her if she was. He could only hope that she would forgive him eventually.

Jake and Mike had finishing their last drinks and were about to leave the bar when Mike noticed Pacey sitting all by himself. He made his way over to Pacey’s table.

"Hey man," Mike said, giving Pacey a hearty slap on the back.

"Hi Mike."

"Where’d you go?" Mike asked. "I’m talking to Jake and the next thing I know, I turn around and you’re chasing some hot brunette out of the bar. That wasn’t who I think it was? Was it?" Mike asked. Pacey glanced down at his hands and remained silent. "Was it? Was that Joey?"

"Yeah, that was Joey," Pacey replied flatly.

"Holy shit! Where is she, man?"

"She’s in the bathroom."

"But what about Rachel?"

Pacey shut his eyes. He didn’t want to be reminded of what was waiting for him at home. "We’re just talking, Mike. It’s not like that."

"Sure it isn’t," Mike said sarcastically. "You just happen to run into the love of your life. The one that got away and ‘it’s not like that’," he chuckled. "Whatever, man. Anyway, me and Jake are taking off. I guess that you don’t need a ride home, now. Do you?"

"No thanks, Mike."

"Well, see you later."

"Bye."

"So," Joey said, now back at the table, seated across from Pacey. She was working on her fifth drink of the night and the alcohol was definitely starting to kick in. "I guess that I should answer your question."

Pacey moved his gaze to meet hers. "What question?" he asked, relieved that she had finally spoken.

"We’re not married anymore. Dawson and I," she said, pausing to watch Pacey’s reaction closely. He nodded sadly. "We got divorced about a year after the wedding," she continued.

Pacey felt a pang of guilt when he thought of Dawson.

"I don’t think that he ever really forgave me for sleeping with you. He pretended like he did, but I could always tell that it bothered him."

Pacey felt sorry for Dawson. If he had been in Dawson’s shoes, he would have never been able to forget, either.

"I don’t blame him," Pacey said sadly.

"But he was the one who still wanted to get married. He said that what had happened between you and me didn’t bother him and that we would work through it somehow," she said before taking a large sip of her bourbon. "But he would punish me for it everyday. Every chance he got, he would bring up the fact that I was unfaithful to him."

"What happened?" Pacey asked.

"I came home from work one day to find him screwing the accountant from his office. He always did have a thing for blondes," she said, laughing slightly for some strange reason. "I’ll never forget what he said when I found him. He calmly pulled up his pants, straightened his hair and said, ‘at least she’s not your best friend’ and then he told me that he wanted a divorce," she paused, trying to get the image of him out of her head. "He said that he was sick of trying to make things work out between us and that he would never forget what had happened with you."

"Wow, that’s horrible. I’m sorry."

"Don’t be. I wasn’t happy, either. We both knew that things wouldn’t work, but neither of us wanted to admit it. I just wish that we could’ve salvaged some kind of friendship, but we haven’t really talked to each other since then," she sad sadly. "We still make the polite calls on Christmas or birthdays, but that’s about it. He moved back to Capeside a couple of years ago. Hey, do you want another one?" she asked, holding out her empty glass. "I’m going to go get a refill."

"Oh, okay," he said hesitantly. He knew that it was none of his business, but she was drinking quite a lot. He knew that if he tried to say anything, he’d just upset her, so he decided to keep quiet.

"Fill ‘er up," Joey said, holding out her empty glass to the bartender.

"Sorry ma’am, but you missed last call. We’ve got to get closed up now. It’s late, and anyway, I think that you’ve had more than enough for tonight. Make sure that she won’t be driving herself home," he said, addressing Pacey.

Pacey and Joey stood out in front of the bar in silence, but at least that silence seemed more comfortable than it was the last time. The rain had slowly come to a stop and the skies had cleared, but the cold remained and Joey crossed her arms, desperate for the warmth, Pacey watched her out of the corner of his eye. He was trying to process all that had happened so far. All the things that she had said. He couldn’t help but feel relieved that she hadn’t asked him about what he had been doing the last four years. That was something that he wasn’t ready to share with her. At least not yet.

"So," Pacey said reluctantly. He knew that she would argue with him on this. "Why I don’t I drive you home? The bartender was right, you have had a lot to drink."

Joey shook her head. "I’m fine, Pacey."

"No, Joey. You’re not fine. Come on, just let me take you home."

"I don’t need your help, Pacey," she argued.

"I’m not letting you get behind the wheel like that. Just give me the keys."

"Pacey, I live in Boston. You know how long it will take you drive me home and then how are you supposed to get back here?"

"I’ll take a cab, just give me the keys."

"Fine," Joey said, handing them to him angrily.

Pacey turned the corner quickly, causing Joey to snap out of her peaceful rest. She rubbed her eyes, letting them get used to the light that was flashing across the windshield from the streetlights that they passed. With the help of the headlights, she read the nearest street sign. They were close to her apartment, now.

"Good morning, sunshine," Pacey said, noticing that she was awake.

She smiled sleepily. "How long have I been asleep?"

"About an hour."

"Why didn’t you wake me up? I could have given you directions," she said, straightening up in her seat from her sleeping position.

"I used to work down at Bitmar Square, so I know this area," he said, turning another sharp corner. Joey tightened her seat belt immediately. Pacey was never known for his road safety.

A few blocks later, with the help of her directions, he pulled up in front of her large apartment complex and shut off the engine.

"Is this it?" he asked.

"Home sweet home," she said distractedly, preoccupied with the thoughts of what she was supposed to do next. Should she ask him in? She only knew that she wasn't ready to say goodbye yet.

"Could I come up and use your phone?" he asked, shaking Joey out of her fog. "Because, you know, I’ve got to call myself a cab," he said nervously.

"Well," Joey said, choosing her words carefully. "Pacey it’s three o’clock in the morning. I mean, if you wanted to, you could sleep on my couch. Cause it’s quite a drive back to Winchester and if you wanted me to, I could drive you back in the morning. It’ll save you the cab fare."

Pacey raised on eyebrow. "Is that really the best idea? You remember the last time you made me that offer, don’t you?" he asked slyly.

Joey instantly turned bright red. Of course she remembered it. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it all night. That was the first night that they had ever been together.

"Yup, I remember," she said, smiling. "You guys were fumigating your apartment, so you came over to stay with Dawson and me, but Dawson had to go out of town that weekend, so it was just us," she said, her cheeks flushing again. "We didn’t leave that bed for two straight days."

"There wasn’t anywhere else I wanted to be," Pacey said seriously, sending chills up and down Joey’s spine. He could be so charming sometimes. She closed her eyes, remembering what it felt like to have his arms around her. What his touch felt like, and his kiss.

"Well," he began. "I guess that you’re right. Maybe I should come up. You know, because it is late."

"I'll talk to you later," he replied coldly without looking back as he stormed out of her office.

Pacey followed her up to the door of her apartment. She got out her keys and opened the door, exposing a large, nicely decorated loft with beautiful windows that displayed all the lights of the city. "Wow, it’s gorgeous," he commented, taking in his surroundings.

"Thanks," Joey said, kicking off her shoes and closing the door behind them.

"Do you live here all by yourself?" he asked.

"No, I have a roommate, Janeane. She works late." Pacey nodded. "Hey, do you want something to drink?" she asked, walking toward the kitchen.

"Sure," Pacey said distractedly, walking into the living room and glancing around. His eyes fell onto her mantle, where an array of pictures were set up. He laughed, picking up an old picture of Joey, Dawson and himself that was taken on the first day of kindergarten.

Joey stood silently behind him with a glass of wine in her hand as she watched him trace her face on the photograph with his fingers. She was dying to know what he was thinking.

"The Three Musketeers," she said, handing him the glass.

"Yeah, we were," he laughed, putting the picture back in it’s spot on the mantle next to a picture of Bessie and Alexander. "That is, until puberty kicked in."

"Right," she said, laughing. "That’s when you began your hopeless skirt chasing."

"And when you developed an unhealthy obsession for a certain boy next door," Pacey said, immediately regretting bringing him up.

Joey smiled uncomfortably, flinching at the mention of Dawson. "So," she said, trying to change the subject. "Do you remember that day?" she asked, pointing to the picture.

"Of course I do," he said, nodding his head. "It was our first day at Capeside Elementary."

"But do you remember why I had to leave school early?" she asked.

"No," he said, shaking his head.

"You pushed me off the merry-go-round during recess and broke my arm," she said, laughing.

"I did not," he argued, looking at her innocently.

"You did too," she insisted. "You were such a little jerk to me back then," she said, giving him a little shove.

"Well, you know why I was so mean to you, don’t you?" he asked. Joey shook her head. "Don’t you remember the whole toddler form of flirting? You know, pulling hair, pinching, kicking, that kind of thing."

"Oh, that’s right," Joey said, inwardly rejoicing. "So, you’re saying that little Pacey Witter was trying to hit on me by shoving me off a dangerous play structure?"

"I always was a charmer, wasn’t I?" he joked.

"Completely irresistible," she replied sarcastically. It was strange how easily they had fallen back into their usual sparring routine and it made Joey smile for some reason. She missed the obnoxious banter and the quick quips, but they were both obviously avoiding talking about the one thing that they should be talking about.

"Listen, you make yourself comfortable. I’m going to go get changed. I’ll be right back," she said, sauntering off towards her bedroom, trying to seem as cool and confidant as possible, even though she was dying inside.

She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, taking in a deep breath. He was stirring feelings inside of her that she hadn’t felt for ages. Opening her closet, she pulled out a pair of jeans and a tank top, and threw them on. She knew that it wasn’t the most flattering clothing that she could have picked out, but she kept telling herself over and over again that she didn’t give a damn about what Pacey thought of her, even though nothing could be further from the truth.

After putting on a light layer of make up and spraying her perfume in every place she could, Joey strode out of her bedroom to find Pacey at the window, staring out at the skyline.

"It’s beautiful, isn’t it?" Joey asked, walking over to stand next to him.

"Yeah," he said, glancing over at her and then back out the window. "I miss it here. It makes me want to move back to the city."

Joey nodded in silence, silently begging him to do just that.

"So," he said, turning to face her. "So," she echoed, looking up at him. They locked eyes and stared at each other for a moment, both silently assessing the situation. Joey’s anger about the past melted away instantly as she felt her longing for him growing stronger by the second. She sighed, not sure where she should start.

"Pacey?" she asked carefully.

"What?" he asked, almost inaudibly, trying to fight the urges that were rising within him.

Joey took a small step towards him. "I’ve missed you," she said, looking up into his eyes as she bit the corner of her lip suggestively.

Pacey exhaled slowly. She knew exactly how to get to him. She was driving him crazy. "I’ve missed you, too," he said, inhaling her sweet sent as she stepped even closer to him, until their bodies were almost touching.

"You have?" she asked, her voice coming out hoarsely. She raised her hand to delicately touch his face. Pacey closed his eyes and nodded as she ran her fingers softly over his jawbone and then up to his lips, making his breathing grow faster.

He breathed her name heavily as he inched towards her. His attraction to her was overwhelming him. He placed both arms around her waist as she moved her hands up to the back of his neck. Standing on her toes, she brought her lips up to meet his. His kiss was just as she had always remembered it.

After a minute, Pacey pulled away, startling Joey.

"What?" she asked.

Looking slightly shocked, Pacey smiled and pushed a stray piece of hair away from Joey’s face, tucking it behind her ear. He then shook his head, pushing all of his worried thoughts out of his mind. He could deal with the consequences of his actions later. He had wanted this for too long and he wasn’t about to let his chance pass now. "Nothing," he said, leaning in to kiss her passionately.

Her hands moved from his neck down to his waist where she untucked his shirt carelessly. Reaching her hands under his clothing, she ran her hands over his muscular back, and he began to relax under her touch. Pacey let his hands drop to her hips, and he pulled her as close to him as possible. Wanting to feel the weight of his body, Joey snaked her arm around his waist and drew him in the direction of the couch. He followed her willingly, and they both collapsed onto the couch, shifting their weight until they were comfortable.

She began to unbutton his shirt, gently grazing the skin of his chest as she went from one button to the next, until it was finally open. She hastily pushed it over his shoulders, wanting to feel his skin. She kissed her way up from his newly exposed arms back to his mouth. He followed her lead, desperately reaching for the bottom of her tank top and pulling it upwards, breaking their kiss so that he could pull it up and over her head. Tossing the shirt haphazardly to the ground, his kisses fell down to her neck. She moaned his name, reveling in the feeling of his lips on her. She gripped his shoulders tightly as he kissed across her stomach and then back up to her collarbone. He brought his lips up to hers and they kissed hungrily, both groping frantically at each other’s clothes as they tried to pull them off each other. Joey reached down for the buckle on his belt and undid it. Then, with shaky hands, she fumbled towards the button on his pants, trying her best to undo them. Pacey pulled himself off of her to help her undo it.

"Wait," Joey said abruptly, stopping his hands.

Pacey looked down at her, slightly confused. "What?" he asked breathlessly, thinking the absolute worst.

"Maybe we should move this into the bedroom, because Janeane, my roommate, she’ll be home any minute," she clarified, leaving Pacey incredibly relieved.

"Right," Pacey said, climbing up off the couch and pulling her up with him. He kissed the soft skin of her neck as they stumbled towards her dark bedroom, stopping in the doorway to initiate another heated kiss.

Eventually making it into the room, they closed the door behind them and fell onto the bed, happy to finally be back in each other’s arms.

Joey awoke suddenly to the noise of soft clamoring and running water in the kitchen. Slowly opening her eyes, she become aware of the soft light that was gleaming through her half drawn curtains, giving the room a quiet glow and almost taking her mind off the enormous headache that was pounding in her temples. Letting her eyes adjust to the daylight, she noticed the man's arm that was draped over her bare stomach. She rolled over, glancing up at Pacey who was sleeping soundly with a small smile on his face. Suddenly, the evening’s events came flooding back to her. Her inviting him up, kissing him...and who could forget the sex.

"Oh, god," she winced. "The sex."

Janeane turned her attention away from the pot of coffee that she was making to see Joey creep out of her bedroom and close the door behind her quietly. Janeane glanced from Joey’s ruffled hair down to the items of clothing that were carelessly thrown around the living room, up to the man’s coat hanging on the door, and then back to Joey.

"You little slut," she joked, her hands on her hips.

Joey tightened the belt on her robe. "Shhh..." she said, holding her pointer finger up to her mouth. "He’s still sleeping."

"Girl, it’s about time you got some action," Janeane commented lightheartedly, going back to her coffee. "I was about to set you up with my brother."

"Which one?" Joey asked hopelessly, remembering the thousands of horrible blind dates that Janeane had organized for her.

"Jim. The younger one."

"Not the podiatrist?" Joey asked, contorting her face.

"What’s wrong with him?"

"How could I stand dating a guy that devotes his entire life to feet?"

Janeane glared at her playfully. "He liked you and besides, I thought that you were in some desperate need for a little action. After the massive dry spell that you’ve been having lately, I’m surprised that you even remember what sex is."

Joey rolled her eyes, making sure that Janeane saw her. "Frankly," she said. "I’m surprised that you remember how to make your own coffee. You must be used to having one of your various night companions make your breakfast for you."

"Touché," Janeane laughed. "But can I help it if men find me irresistible?"

"It must be a curse," Joey giggled, rummaging through the cupboard to find her favorite mug.

"So, who is he?" Janeane asked, pouring Joey a cup.

"Um," Joey said uneasily, taking a seat in the stool across from Janeane. "You, well… you don’t know him."

"Come on, Joey. I know almost every man in Boston on an incredibly intimate level, so don’t tell me that I don’t know him."

"Well, he’s from Winchester."

"I’ve tallied up some pretty big numbers down there, too," Janeane joked, eyeing Joey who looked reluctant about revealing any details. "Come on, what’s his name?" she prodded.

Joey sighed. She didn’t want anyone to analyze her actions right now. She hadn’t really thought about them herself. "It’s Pacey," she said, looking away from Janeane’s stare. "Pacey Witter."

Janeane nearly dropped her cup of coffee to the floor. "What?" she asked, completely shocked. "It can’t be. It’s not THE Pacey Witter, is it?"

"No, it’s one of the other Pacey Witters that I know," Joey said sarcastically, fiddling nervously with that cup that rested in her hands."

"You’ve got to be shitting me. How in God’s name did this happen?" Janeane asked.

"Long story," Joey mumbled, not willing to get into it now.

"But I don’t get it. You slept with Pacey? The guy that left you? I thought that you hated him," Janeane asked, somewhat concerned.

"I thought that I did, too," Joey said, letting Janeane’s words sink in. How had things changed so quickly? She wasn’t even sure. Somewhere after the slew of cocktails she had had last night, her feelings had taken a completely different turn. It scared her to think that she could give up on her convictions so quickly. That wasn’t like her, but she hadn’t been herself ever since her affair with Pacey.

She sighed, dropping her head to rest on the kitchen counter.

"I don’t know what to do," she mumbled to herself.

Her side of the bed was empty. Pacey was strangely relieved. Getting up, he picked up his previously discarded boxers and threw them on unceremoniously. He glanced around the room, his eyes falling onto her night stand. The white cordless phone that sat there had been haunting him all night. Every time he had looked down at Joey, who was sleeping in his arms, that little phone seemed to call out to him.

He picked it up, his fingers cautiously resting on the keypad. He took a deep breath and dialed his own number, praying that he would get the machine.

"Hello?" a tired voice asked.

"Hi, it’s me," he said slowly, bracing himself for her reaction.

"Pacey?" she shrieked. "Where the hell have you been?"

"I’m at Mike’s."

"What the hell are you doing there?" she practically shouted, her voice level climbing higher by the second.

"We had a little too much to drink, so I just decided to stay here."

"What? Why didn’t you call me?"

"I feel asleep."

"Oh, you feel asleep?" she snapped, anger clearly etched in her voice "Well, that’s just great Pacey, because I was worried sick about you. I called your cell phone all night, but it must have been turned off."

"Listen, I’m really sorry. I don’t know what to say."

"Don’t bother saying anything," she huffed. "Anyway, what time are you coming home?"

"Well, I’ve got to run a couple of errands, so I won’t be home until later."

"Don’t hurry back," she said angrily, slamming down the phone.

"Shit," Pacey mumbled, dropping the phone back on the table. "What am I doing?" he sighed, letting his head fall into his hands.

He stood up slowly, reluctant to face what was waiting outside of Joey’s bedroom door. Reluctant to face anything.

He felt exactly the same as he did the first time that he had fallen in love with Joey. It was like he had been kicked in the stomach. Like he couldn’t breathe. She had this strange control over him that scared him to death. He wasn’t ready to fall in love with her again, but it didn’t really matter. He had never stopped loving her. Last night was just a cruel reminder.

"Okay, Pacey," he said flatly. "Time to face the music."

Janeane dropped the newspaper that she hadn’t really been reading and headed toward the kitchen when she heard Joey’s bedroom door open for the second time that morning. She had been sitting in the living room for the last half an hour, anxiously waiting to see this guy that Joey had shamelessly bedded. She turned the corner to see him creeping towards the kitchen, sporting only a pair of plaid boxers.

"Damn," Janeane thought to herself as she eyed him curiously. "Joey sure wasn’t kidding when she said that this guy was handsome."

Janeane cleared her throat loudly to announce her presence. The muscles on Pacey’s back immediately tensed up at the sound. When he turned, he seemed almost relieved to see someone other than Joey standing behind him.

"Hello," Janeane said sweetly, extending her hand to him. She didn’t know why, but she automatically went into flirt-mode whenever a member of the opposite sex was in the room. It was just her nature.

"Hi," he returned, shaking her hand.

"I’m Janeane, Joey’s roommate."

"I figured," he replied, suddenly becoming aware of the fact that he was standing there in his underwear. "Um," he said, glancing down at his bare chest and crossing his arms over it self-consciously. "Sorry. I would’ve dressed more properly for the occasion if I had known that I would be making a first impression."

"Don’t worry about it," Janeane laughed, thinking that the only way he could’ve made a better impression was if he had been standing there naked.

"So, do you think you could point me in the direction of a cup of coffee?" he asked, glancing around the kitchen.

"Sure, I’ll pour you a cup."

"Thanks," he replied distractedly as he scanned the apartment, searching for a sign of Joey. He couldn’t help but wonder where she was. For all he knew, she could be fleeing from the apartment right now, completely horrified at what she had done. Horrified at the sight of him sleeping next to her.

"Here," Janeane said, handing him a warm cup of coffee.

"Thanks," Pacey smiled, taking a small sip, his thoughts immediately returning to Joey. Where was she? Was she upset about what had happened last night? What was he going to say to her? Should he tell her the truth?

Janeane cleared her throat again, noticing Pacey’s absentmindedness. His head snapped around to face her.

"She’s out on the balcony," she told him, realizing what he was thinking about.

"Thanks," he said graciously, relieved and frightened at the same time. He might as well face this now.

Joey turned the page of her book almost violently, angry at the blissful words that sat on the page, laughing at her and her miserable situation. Taunting her with a perfectly happy couple and the disgusting line: "...and they lived happily ever after."

Why couldn’t real life be as simple as her book? Why couldn’t two people fall in love and be happy without the consequences and repercussions of the real world? Why couldn’t love be enough? Why couldn’t she ever get the happy ending?

"Fuck this," she mumbled angrily, throwing the book down on the balcony. She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair.

"What?" Pacey asked, now fully clothed, as he stepped out from behind the open screen door. "I thought that all women liked Danielle Steele’s novels."

Joey sat up rigidly in her chair, startled by the sound of his voice. "Pacey? Jesus, you scared me."

"Sorry," he said quietly, taking a seat next to her in a ratty lawn chair.

"No, actually I hate Danielle Steele," she clarified, even though she knew that Pacey was just joking. "It’s Janeane’s. I thought that a corny romance novel would be a welcome distraction."

Pacey chuckled, trying his best not to look hurt. "A welcome distraction from what? The hideous creature that you found snoring in your bed this morning?" he asked, his voice coming out more pained than he had meant it to.

Joey’s face softened. "Pacey, you know that you don’t snore," she joked.

He shook his head, looking up at the sky. "I’m serious, Joey."

She sighed. "Sorry."

Pacey turned to face her, a look of confusion and pain clearly engraved on his face.

"So," she began, turning her attention away from his blazing eyes and down to the oversized NYU sweatshirt that she was wearing. Fiddling nervously with the hem of it, she continued, "Well, you know, we should probably talk about what happened last night."

"Yeah, we should," he said unenthusiastically, looking up at the cloudless sky that looked nothing like it did the night before. He couldn’t help but use it as a metaphor for his own life. Everything had seemed completely different last night than it did now. Things could really change is 24 hours, couldn’t they?

Seeing that Pacey wasn’t really making any effort to broach the conversation, Joey decided to suck it up and start. "What did happen last night, Pacey?" She asked, hoping to get some insight into what he was thinking or hopefully what he was feeling.

Pacey smiled, letting his sense of humor take advantage of the moment. "Well, Jo. You see, when a man and a women love each other very, very much and they both decide that they’re ready, the man places his--,"

"Pacey," Joey warned. "I thought that you wanted to be serious. I don’t think that giving me ‘the birds and the bees’ speech constitutes as being serious."

"Sorry," he said meekly.

"So?" She asked again, eyeing him curiously.

"You want to know what happened last night?" He asked, sighing heavily. Joey nodded weakly in response. "Well," he began. "I obviously can’t tell you what happened on your part. I don’t know what was going through your head, or what on earth made you kiss me, but I do know that--," he paused, struggling to find any words that could justify how he feeling. "I know that for the first time in four years--for the first time since I left you--I was able to close my eyes and even if it was only for just a second, I felt like I was happy again--like I was whole again."

Joey squeezed her eyes shut, trying her best to stop the flow of tears that would inevitably start pouring out from her eyes in any second. Hearing him say that gave her hope and saddened her at the same time. "Just for a second?" She managed to ask before letting a few tears fall.

"Joey," he said softly, his heart breaking at the sight of her tears. He scooted up to the edge of his chair and reached over to wipe them away gently. "Joey, listen to me," he said, tilting her chin up so that their eyes met. "I haven’t gone through a single day since I was 16 without thinking of you--dreaming of you. And there isn’t anything in the world that I want more than to be able to take you in my arms and tell you that I love you, and that everything is going to be okay, but we both know that things are too complicated for that."

"You’re wrong, Pacey," she said angrily, pushing his hand away from her face and wiping furiously at her tears to try and get them to stop. "I don’t think that things are complicated at all. In fact, they’re becoming crystal clear. You didn’t want me then, you don’t want me now."

"Joey, you know that’s true."

"Oh, do I? Well, you could have fooled me."

"Joey, of course I wanted you. I loved you and I love you now, but that’s not the point."

"What is the point then, Pacey? Huh? What’s your fucking point? Because you’ve lost me. I’m just waiting to hear those words again. Waiting for you to break my heart again."

"Don’t be so dramatic, Joey. You know that things just can’t go back to normal between us."

"When were they ever normal, Pacey?" Joey asked harshly. Pacey sighed, unsure of how to answer the question. She was right, of course. "So, back to the subject at hand. You were just telling me how things weren’t simple between us, and I’m sure that a laundry list of reasons why we can’t be together was about to follow."

"No, Joey--"

"Save it, Pacey. Why don’t you just go?" Joey interrupted. "You’ve had your fun. You’ve proved to yourself that you could still get me into bed, so I’m sure that you’re finished with me. You can go now."

"Joey, I’m not leaving until we work this out."

"What is there to work out, Pacey? Were you or were you not just telling me that things can’t go back to normal?"

"I was, but that doesn’t mean--"

"No, Pacey. I don’t want to talk anymore. This conversation is going to end the same way no matter how long we sit here and talk about it. The only difference is that you’ll feel better because you’ll squeeze in a few comments about how sorry you are and how you wish that things could be different and blah, blah, blah. Just go."

"No, I’m not going," he said sternly.

"Then I am," Joey said, jumping up from her chair and storming inside. She ran past her confused roommate and to her front door, pushing it open angrily and running down the stairs to her car, ignoring Pacey’s calls the whole way.

She walked directly to her bedroom, not caring that she hadn’t eaten for hours. She was sure that she wouldn’t be able to keep anything down, anyway, so it didn’t really matter. She immediately collapsed onto her bed and within seconds, she became overwhelmed with his sent. It was on the pillows, on the sheets and on the blankets. She didn’t know what type of cologne he wore, but she was sure that she would spend the rest of her days trying her best to avoid it. It smelled that good.

Not wanting to be reminded of him, or what they had done last night in her bed, she decided that she would get much more sleep out on the couch. As she rolled over to climb out of bed, she heard the crinkling of paper beneath her. Siting up stiffly, she saw the note that sat there on the bed. The note that she somehow missed when she had laid down. She instantly recognized the handwriting. It was Pacey’s. She picked it up and held it delicately in her hands, mad at herself for slightly crumpling it. She wished that she had the willpower to just chuck it aside and pretend like she had never seen it, but she was too curious. What was there possibly left to say?

Dear Joey,

I have been stupidly siting here on your deck for the last few hours, hoping that I’ll see your car drive up soon, even though I know that you’re too stubborn to come back until you’re sure that I’m gone, so I decided that it would be better if I would just leave, but I can’t do that without explaining a few things to you, first.

The moment that I saw you walk into that bar last night was the first time that the gravity of my wrongdoing fully hit me. I realized what a mistake I had made that morning when I had walked out on you in a moment of selfishness and panic. I had always known that I was wrong to do so, but I had been able to avoid really accepting the blame for it because I had told myself that I had done what was best for you. And again, this morning, I tried to put aside my feelings and do what I thought was best, but you obviously didn’t see it that way, and now I don’t, either.

I have no idea what you’re thinking right now, and hopefully you’re actually reading this instead of flushing it down the toilet, but I want you to know that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Falling asleep with you in my arms last night gave me a sense of happiness that I haven’t felt since the last time that I was able to hold you so close to me. And now I don’t know what to do. It scared me to realize what an effect you still had on me. How easily you can make my heart jump just by giving me a certain look, or the way I melt when you smile at me. And now, I’ve been reminded of your touch, your taste, your smell, and the feel of your body against mine and it’s going to be torture to not be able to experience those things again. I want you, I need you and I love you, but that doesn’t make things right between us. I don’t know if things could ever be right between us, but I do know that I don’t want to live the rest of my life feeling like I have for the last four years. I don’t want to think that I gave up on the women I love.

So, I’m leaving this up to you. I want to talk this over and see where we stand, but I don’t want to pressure you. If you think that we’re better just going our separate ways, than I’ll accept that, knowing that it’s what you want. The ball’s in your court, so to speak. Call me if you want to work this out, I’m in the book.

Love,

Pacey

Joey chewed nervously on her bottom lip. What did this mean? What was she supposed to do now?

TO BE CONTINUED...