"Wow. Joey surveyed Pacey's house as he led her toward the kitchen. "This place is great. And it's actually ... clean."

"You sound surprised." He sounded so insulted that she laughed.

"Well, most single men I know are growing science experiments in their sinks --" She wandered over to his, taking in its spotless condition. She glanced over at the refrigerator. "-- or in their fridge."

He leaned back against the counter and grinned. "Know a lot of single men, Potter?"

She shrugged, keeping her eyes on the fridge. "A few."

"Go ahead and look. You're dying to."

She laughed but couldn't resist opening the refrigerator. "I hate to repeat myself, but wow. It's not only clean, but ... Pacey are those fresh vegetables? And, hey, that milk is still good!" She closed the door and leaned back against it dramatically. "I think I might faint."

"OK, Erica Kane. Why don't you go perform the white glove test on the rest of my house while I get dinner started?"

"Wait. You're cooking?"

"I'm just gonna throw some pasta together." He shrugged and started digging in a cabinet. "And maybe a salad, since we've established that I've got fresh veggies in the fridge."

"Geez, Witter. You've become all domestic. How come some nice woman hasn't snapped you up yet?"

He stopped and turned slowly to her. As their eyes met, he said softly, "I'm hoping she will."

The silence stretched. Joey couldn't seem to look away; Pacey didn't seem to want to look away. Finally, she cleared her throat.

"So. Um. You're making pasta, huh? What else can you make?"

Pacey shook his head quickly and smiled slightly. "Other kinds of pasta."

"A multitalented cook."

He snorted. "Oh, pardon me. I didn't realize I was cooking for the critic from Gourmet magazine."

She laughed. "Well, actually, my specialty is Chinese."

"Yeah?"

"Mmm-hmm. I pick up the phone and order what I want. Then they bring it to me."

"It's amazing what can happen in the big city."

"You're telling me," she mumbled. "I'm just gonna ..." she waved her hand toward the living room before wandering out of the kitchen.

Joey smiled at the pile of papers spread all over the coffee table. Pacey obviously had a lot of work to do this weekend. The thought of Pacey as a teacher was strange but somehow natural.

She knew without ever seeing it that he would be great with the students. She imagined more than a few girls had monster crushes on him.

The living room was perfect. It had a fireplace along one wall, and on either side of it, floor-to-ceiling bookcases dominated the room. Joey smiled as she remembered the first time she'd discovered Pacey's love for reading. It had been senior year.

She hadn't been in Pacey's room for years, not since they were kids. He'd been home sick for two days, and she'd brought his homework to him. He was stretched out on his bed, looking pretty pale and tired. And not necessarily thrilled at the pile of homework she'd brought him.

That was when she saw the books. He'd noticed her staring and followed her glance. He hadn't even had a bookcase back then. The books were just piled haphazardly in the corner of his room. Mysteries, classics, biographies, science fiction all mingled together in precarious-looking piles.

Pacey had laughed weakly and flopped back onto his pillow. "Told you I could read, Potter," he'd croaked.

Even knowing how much he liked to read, Joey couldn't believe how many books he had now. She didn't hear him come up behind her, but she felt him, an instant before he whispered in her ear, "Told you I could read, Potter."

She jumped slightly and moved away from him. She wasn't surprised that he'd read her mind. Although she and Dawson had always been friends, nobody knew her like Pacey did. He always had.

She walked past rows of books, smiling as she noticed some of her favorites along with many she'd never heard of. She stopped short when she saw her books. Every single book she'd ever illustrated sat neatly on the shelf. In order of publication date.

She brushed her fingers along the spines, absurdly touched. "You have my books."

"Every one." He was behind her again.

She took a deep breath and turned to face him. "Pacey."

He reached up and cradled her face with one hand, brushing his thumb over her lips. Every thought fled but one. She had to kiss him. She couldn't go another second without knowing what his mouth would feel like on hers. But he was ahead of her. Before she could do anything, he slid his hand into her hair and touched his lips to hers.

Time stopped. The rest of the world faded away. That's what she told Bessie later. "Choose your romantic cliche, they were all true in that moment."

Joey didn't know who moved first; it was close enough not to matter. One second their lips were barely touching. The next, her arms were around his neck, and his were around her waist. It seemed like they couldn't be close enough. He pushed her back against the bookcase and moved his lips to her neck, and she heard herself moan. It brought her to her senses. She shoved him away.

They stared at each other, breathing heavily.

"I can't do this," she said.

"Jo ... I'm sorry. I guess I got a little carried away. I didn't mean--"

She shook her head. "No, it's not that. It's not you. I just ..." God, how can I say this? "I can't get involved with you."

He winced, and she rushed on. "I can't be involved with anyone."

She could almost hear him grinding his teeth. "And why is that?"

She couldn't look at him. It was going to be hard enough to say without looking at him. She felt tears threatening and forced them back. Just say it quickly. Get it over with. "I'm pregnant."

He was quiet for so long she wondered if he'd left the room. She took a deep breath and raised her eyes to his. He hadn't moved; he was just staring at her.

She wanted to ask what he was thinking, but she was afraid to know.

She found out soon enough.

"Is --" he cleared his throat and avoided her eyes. "Is it ...Dawson's?"

Joey burst out laughing, falling back against the bookcase. If the laughter was tinged with a little hysteria, well, who could blame her?

"D--Dawson?" she managed, getting herself mostly under control. "Do you know how long it's been since I've even seen Mr. Hollywood?" She sighed. "I tried to call him when I found out, but I just kept thinking how disappointed he'd be in me. That's the last thing I need right now."

"Well, he doesn't really like it when one of his actors deviates from the script."

She nodded, unsure of what to say.

"Who's the father?"

"There is no father," she said, her voice hard. When he just raised his eyebrows, she continued softly. "He doesn't want anything to do with the baby. He doesn't want the responsibility."

"So, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I haven't told anyone but you. I wanted to tell Bessie. I mean, if anyone would understand, it would be her. But I'm afraid..." her voice wavered. "How could I let this happen?"

"Oh, Joey." Pacey had his arms around her in an instant.

"It's gonna be OK, Potter. I promise."