Joey’s pen made a scratching noise on the paper as she wrote, making her cringe.  She looked at the clock.  2:24 a.m.  Great, another night without sleep, she thought bitterly, shutting her journal with a snap, nipping her finger in the process.

 It had been almost two weeks since they had seen Chocolat at the Rialto, and since then, she had barely spoken to Pacey aside from their most basic his and byes.   She didn’t know what to say to him…and at the same time, she did.  She knew exactly what to say, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it.  So instead, she wrote it all down in her journal, scribbling frantically into the wee hours of the morning.  When she came to school the next day her eyes were puffy and red, but she didn’t care.   Dawson (not being the most intuitive person in the world) didn’t notice, and Jack and Jen, who were increasingly becoming attached at the hip, could only give her uncertain, encouraging smiles in the hallway.  She couldn’t even look at Andie, who seemed completely wrapped up in her college applications and AP classes anyway.  When she did see Pacey’s ex-girlfriend rushing to and from class, the perky girl gave her an oblivious smile and a wave.  She and Dawson should form a club, Joey thought, annoyed.  They wouldn’t know reality if it smacked them upside their pretty blonde heads.

 She sighed and re-opened her journal, turning to yesterday’s entry.  It was blurred slightly by the tears that had fallen while she was writing.

 Ten days, it began.  It’s only been ten days since the most incredible night of my life.   Has it been that long?  I can still relive the sensations so easily…it’s almost like I can touch them…like I can touch him.

 I’m in love with Pacey Witter, the same Pacey Witter who’s pulled my hair and made me laugh and wrestled with me, both physically and verbally, for my whole life.  How did it happen?  I don’t know.  It’s the same Pacey Witter-the Pacey Witter who, no matter how much I’ve abused him, has always been there to listen, to protect me, to make me confront my fears and to hold my hand afterwards.  Pacey Witter, one of the only men I know who’s seen me cry and who knew exactly what to say to make me feel better.  Who always knows exactly what to say.

 The same Pacey Witter who I let into my body for the first time, ten days ago.  Who asked me eight times-I counted-if I was okay.  Who went slowly because he knew it hurt.  Who held my hand when I cried out.  Who kissed me with a tenderness that can only come from love.  Who made me feel more happy and loved than I have ever felt in my entire life.  Who, when it was all over, kissed my fingertips, washed me off with a damp sponge, and told me that I was beautiful.

 That was when I realized that I only wanted to be with him, to move with him, to kiss him, to be a part of him…only him…forever.  When does forever begin?  Why do I feel like it’s already over?  How can I make him understand that he matters to me more than anyone, than anything?  That I love him.  That I think about him every second of every minute of every hour of every day.  That I, cynical Joey Potter, have realized that it’s all true.  All of the romantic cliched bullshit…it’s true.  And the pain that comes from your heart breaking?  That’s real too.  I know now.  Because I feel it.

 Pacey ran his hand through his hair, sighing, and resisted the urge to curse at the computer screen.  He had been writing-or rather, attempting to write-his final paper for his Ethics class for over two hours, but nothing came.  You’re losing your touch, Witter, he thought wryly.  Sad, since you only acquired it recently.

 Recently meaning when I started hanging out with Joey, Pacey thought a little bitterly.   He closed his nearly blank file and opened his e-mail.  It was becoming a ritual for him…every night for the past two weeks he had written the e-mail he wanted to send to Joey.   But he never sent it…couldn’t send it.  Although there was nothing more he wanted to do than get past this standstill they had come to, he didn’t want to be the one to initiate it.  It was definitely pride, and it was definitely foolish, but he had been hurt too many times by women to just let this one slide.  He may have never felt as intensely about anyone as he now did for Joey, but that didn’t change the fact that he needed to protect himself.  It almost made it more important that he put up a few emotional walls.

 Joey,  he typed slowly.

 I miss you.  It’s strange, because I miss you when you’re close to me.  I miss you in class when you’re sitting just a few seats away, trying to concentrate on Mr. Andrews endless lectures on the faults of communism or whatever he chooses to pontificate about on that particular day.  I watch you chew on your lower lip…god, so sexy.  How can you not know how beautiful you are?
I love watching you so much that it hurts.

I know you’re pushing me away…why?  Part of me knows that only one thing stands in the way of us being together.  I don’t even have to say the D-word…you know what I’m talking about.  But I also wonder if something else is standing in our way…fear.  Are you afraid of this?  Are you afraid of me?

 When we slept together,  it was the single most intense experience I’ve ever had.  Making love to you was incredible.  It was not only physically pleasurable, it was like a fusing of bodies and minds, a union of souls…I don’t even know how to describe it.  All I know was that it felt right.   So why are you running away?  Are you scared of falling?  Because I will catch you.  I promise you that.  I have waited so long…you have no idea.   I just want to hold you, to be with you, to be part of your life and part of you.  So what are you afraid of?  I can tell you what I’m afraid of.  I’m afraid that you’re going to drop me because you don’t feel the same way.  I’m afraid that we moved too quickly, somehow.  I’m afraid that you don’t trust me.

 But you know what frightens me the most?  The idea that I could live every day for the rest of my life, and never feel the way I do when I’m with you.  I love you so much, Jo.  You’re so important to me.  If you don’t want to be romantically involved, I understand.  It hurts, but I understand, and I will stand by you and be your friend, to the best of my ability.  There are no ultimatums here.

 Pacey stopped.  There are no ultimatums here.  He wanted to erase it.  He wanted to give her an ultimatum.  He wanted to scream, Don’t break my heart!  But he knew he couldn’t.

 I want to be a part of your life any way I can…but in order for that to happen, we have to get past this, whatever this is.  Please tell me what you are feeling.  Yes, sometimes it’s right to do the wrong thing.  I believe that.  If something feels so right…how can it be wrong?

 A tear slipped down Pacey’s cheek, unnoticed.  Please let this be the right thing, he thought.  Because if this isn’t right, I don’t know what possibly could be.
 

 Joey sighed, closing the door to her room and pulling her sweater over her head.  All afternoon she’d felt like she was suffocating.  Heat had infused her cheeks as, right in the middle of English class, she recalled every last detail of the last night she had spent with Pacey.  When the bell rang, she grabbed her bag and bolted out of the room, ignoring Jen’s probing questions.  She didn’t know what was wrong, and even if she did, she didn’t feel like talking about it.  She just wanted to curl up into a little ball, fall asleep and never wake up again.

 She flicked on her stereo and selected a CD in her changer.  It was the same CD she had been playing on repeat for over a week now-the second half of the Dirty Dancing soundtrack.  She was torturing herself, but she didn’t care.  She picked a track and pressed play.  Otis Redding’s soulful voice began singing.

 Joey held herself, her shoulders shaking as she finally let go, tears pouring from her filling eyes.

 Suddenly, she felt someone’s hands on her shoulders.  She was frightened, but the touch was so familiar and gentle that she didn’t cry out.

“Shhh, Jo.  Please don’t cry.  Please don’t,” came Pacey’s voice, quiet and loving.  He massaged her shoulders gently, and she almost collapsed from relief.

 The music drifted off into silence, and Joey looked up into Pacey’s eyes.  “Pacey, I-“

 He knelt down to wipe a tear from her cheek, then kissed her lightly where it had been.  “Joey…if you ever feel like crying…please, please, please…” He took her hand and kissed her fingertips softly.  “Cry to me.”

 Joey awoke slowly, sleep sliding off of her like a silk nightgown.  She smiled, watching as Pacey’s eyelids fluttered slightly.  Nudging him gently with her forehead, she licked him on his shoulder.  He trembled and shut his eyes more tightly.  Sniffing, she flipped over, her back turned towards him.

 “So is it true…what they say?” she heard his voice, deep and slightly scratchy from sleep.

 “What do they say?” she asked, refusing to turn towards him.

 “That make up sex is the best kind.”

 She slowly turned on her back, finding his laughing bright blue eyes.   “I think sex with you is the best kind.”

 “Well…good answer, Potter.”  He kissed her lightly on the forehead.  “But I would still enjoy making up with you any day, even if we didn’t fight first.”

 “Were we fighting?” she asked liltingly.

 He rolled his eyes.  “I was dying, Jo.  Nearly two weeks barely talking to you, not being able to touch you, without even being close enough to touch you?  Especially after what we’d just shared…I was dying.  That’s all there is to it.”

 “But it gave you time to work on your college applications, didn’t it?” she asked laughingly.

 “Honey, I finished my college applications.”

 “Did you send them off yet?” she asked.

 “Nope.  I wanted you to read my essay first, but…I wasn’t sure how to ask.”

 She pushed him lightly.  “So you thought you’d sleep with me first to butter me up?”
 
 His eyes travelled down her body.  “Well, that arrangement has its benefits…”

 “Pig.”  She flipped over on her stomach, and his hands immediately went to her bare back, tracing circles down it.  She shivered.  God, how you affect me, she thought.  “I will read your essay, under one condition.”

 He propped himself up on his elbow, and she admired the defined curves of his arms and shoulders.  “And what’s that?”

 “One kiss for every sentence.”

 He smiled.  “Works for me.  I’ve got one condition, though.”

 She cocked an eyebrow.  “Really?  And what might that be?”

 “That these kisses can be anywhere of my choosing.”

 Pacey let out a sigh of relief as he stepped aboard True Love, the boat he had been working on since the beginning of his junior year.  After he’d broken up with Andie, he’d needed a place to go that was just his, where he could get away from everyone and everything.  This boat was his haven.  The waves that splashed against the hull may cause the boat to rock a little, but it was nothing like the emotional roller coaster that was his life.

 As he squeezed out a sponge onto the wood-panelled floor of the deck and began scrubbing furiously, his mind drifted to the one subject he never tired of thinking about-Joey.   He smiled slightly as he recalled the events of the last three days.

 “Joey…if you ever feel like crying…please, please, please…” He took her hand and kissed her fingertips softly.  “Cry to me.”

 Joey hadn’t been able to say anything, her voice caught in her throat, but her eyes  spoke volumes.

 He gently kissed the palm of her hand, noting with a bit of amusement how she trembled.  Joey Potter, the ice queen?  Never.  He threaded his fingers through hers, squeezing her hand slightly.  She responded with a firm squeeze, tears still trickling down her cheeks.

 He swallowed, feeling his heart contract.  He hated seeing her cry.  Taking her into his arms, she settled on his lap and kissed him on the cheek.  “I love you so much, Pacey.”

 No matter how many times she said it, it still came as a surprise.  “I love you too, Jo.”

 She splayed her fingers across his back, edging up his t-shirt.  She began tracing words on his soft skin, making him shiver.  He concentrated, deciphering what she wrote.   It took a few minutes for her to complete the sentence.

 When she was done, he said softly, “I have never wanted or needed someone so much in my entire life.”

 “Yup.”  She kissed him on the tip of his nose.  “It’s true.”

 He looked into her wide guileless eyes and believed every word.  “Then ditto, Josephine.”

 She pushed him slightly, and he laid back willingly, sliding his arms up her sides.  She kissed him on his neck, licking him slowly, sensuously.  He almost dissolved right then and there.   When she began to slowly unbutton his shirt, placing a kiss on each inch of exposed skin, it took every ounce of restraint he possessed to put his hand up to stop her.  “Is everything okay, Jo?  Are we going to talk about this?”

 “This is about you and me only, Pace,” she said, echoing his questioning thoughts.  “You and me.  Dawson doesn’t fit into this equation at all anymore.”

 “Jo…”

 She put her finger to his lips.  “Pacey, just listen to me, okay?  Dawson will find out.  Soon.  But he’s not our problem.  He doesn’t have the right to be angry or upset about us being together.”

 Pacey sighed.  “See, that’s the thing, Jo.  He has a right to be upset because he’s Dawson, and he’s been the center of our own little universe for so long that…”

 “Pace, the only thing that could have possibly gotten the two of us together was a cosmic shift,” Joey said, smiling.  “So maybe Dawson’s just got to wake up and realize it too.”

 Something soft, wispy and brown brushed his cheek.  “Daydreaming, Pace?” Joey asked, her eyes laughing, her brown hair swinging freely in the early afternoon breeze.

 He blinked, surprised to see the object of his memory in the flesh.  She bent down to kiss him, and he responded by pulling her down onto the slippery deck.  She giggled as she steadied herself on his chest, and he breathed in her vanilla-scented perfume and sighed.   “You are so gorgeous, Josephine.”

 She poked him in the chest.  “Not cool, Mr. Witter.  Or should I just call you my sexy man?”

 He shrugged.  “Well, if the shoe fits…”

 “Bastard.”  She tackled him, and he rolled over easily, pinning her below him, his leg trapped between hers.  Her breath came a little faster.  He stayed still, his mouth inches from hers, teasing her.  “Goddamn it, Witter!” she said breathlessly.

 “What?” he asked innocently, cocking his head to the side.

 “Kiss me.”  She threaded her hands behind his neck and pulled him towards her, their lips meeting in a passionate union.

 They were so caught up in each other’s lips, smells and tastes that they didn’t hear the footsteps as they approached, stopped, and then retreated.  They certainly didn’t see Dawson Leery, his face pale and his eyes a particularly angry blue, kicking pebbles in shocked silence as he tried to erase the image of his two best friends sharing an incredibly intense and passionate moment…without him.