The weeks and months blend into one
A bleary haze, fall winter
Now spring has begun
Bringing fresh hope to my door
I'll be the girl I was before
You took back the precious gift you gave me
Going strong, holding on
Trying to find a place where I belong
I've been east, I've been west
But I'm still not over you yet
I'm still not over you yet

***

"Joey?" Lauren's voice on the intercom breaks through my concentration. "Ms. Lindley is on line one."

"Thanks, Lauren," I reply before picking up the phone.

"Did you get yours?" Jen says without preamble. The two of us had both ended up in New York after graduating - I had gone to Columbia, and she went to NYU. She now teaches Philosophy there, usually while sitting Indian-style on top of a table.

I lean back in my chair and pick up the invitation that was lying carelessly on a pile of blueprints, tapping its thin edge against the desk. "Yes."

"Are you going?"

"I don't know yet."

"It might be fun."

I let out a little laugh. "Jen Lindley? Actually considering going to a high school reunion? I thought you were far too jaded for that kind of thing."

She laughs. "Shut up." There's a long pause, and I already know what she's going to say even before she says it. "Do you think he'll be there?"

I close my eyes and sigh, wishing that I knew the answer. "What are the odds, Jen? After we haven't heard a word from him in ten years? No one knows where the hell he is, I doubt they even know where to send his invitation."

She sighs, too. "Maybe I should call Doug again."

"And I'm sure he'll tell you the exact same thing he's been telling you for years." The dull ache in my chest begins to emerge again, this time accompanied by a hollowness somewhere near my lungs. God, I should be used to this by now. "He's gone, Jen."

"He can't just disappear off the face of the planet. Not without telling his family something."

"Apparently, he can."

We're both silent again for a few seconds. "What about Dawson?"

I shift in my seat and clamp down a tiny flash of - something. I can't put my finger on it, and I don't feel like psychoanalyzing myself right now. "What about him?"

"Do you think he'll go?" Jen clarifies slowly.

"I don't know yet, either." I rest an elbow on my desk and rub my temple. "Jen, this is starting to give me a headache."

"Sorry. No more reunion talk, I promise. For now." I can picture her grinning. "So, you doing anything this weekend?"

"There's this party I have to attend with my boss." I reply blandly, already wishing I could stay in.

"What kind of party?"

"By a law firm. My boss wants me to meet one of their partners because he's going to be a client. Some Nick Shafer guy." I add the last phrase as an afterthought, to see if Jen had heard of this person. "Lauren says he's cute."

"Hmm." Jen says thoughtfully. "I think I've seen that name somewhere before. Never seen his face, though. Can you bring a date?"

"Are you volunteering?"

She snorts, and I can't help smiling. "Yeah, right. That was my not-so-subtle way of telling you that you need a date, dummy."

"Oh, no." I groan. "I don't think so. It's going to be stressful enough being there for business."

"Don't you want to have a boyfriend by the time we go to the reunion?"

I have to laugh. "You're hopeless. I'm hanging up."

"No, no!" She pleads, laughing. "Don't! I was just thinking that, you know, it would be helpful… like in that movie…"

"Bye, Jen," I reply in a singsong voice. "See you soon."

"Okay, then what about just finding me one at the party?" She barely gets the sentence out coherently, she's laughing so much.

"Bye…" I repeat before putting the receiver down with a smile on my face.

***

"Champagne, miss?"

I turn around to find a waiter offering me a drink from the tray he's carrying. I take one and smile gratefully before taking a big sip, praying that it would calm my nerves.

I had been to parties like this before, where people paste phony smiles on their faces and schmoozing is the main objective, but I don't think I'll ever get used to them enough not to get nervous.

My hands feel cold and damp and I rub one of them surreptitiously against my dress. Already I'm beginning to regret wearing it. The straps are so thin they almost look like pieces of thread, and the neckline goes straight across my chest, revealing an amount of cleavage that I'm definitely not accustomed to.

"Ms. Potter!" Mr. Carter weaves his way through the crowd towards me, smiling. "I'm glad that you could make it."

I smile and tilt my head to acknowledge the pleasantry. "How are you, Mr. Carter?"

"Good, good." He rests his hand lightly between my shoulder blades and begins to usher me through the party-goers. "The man I want you to meet is standing right over there. Let's go to him, shall we?"

I take another sip of champagne and follow his lead. When we stop somewhere near the eight-piece orchestra, he calls out to a tall, dark-haired man who has his back turned to us with a waify-looking woman on his arm.

Typical. The word pops up in my head, and I remember Lauren's words when we talked about the infamous Nicholas Shafer. Dates models, or something. I resist the urge to roll my eyes heavenward.

"Nick!" Mr. Carter calls again, and this time the man turns.

And my champagne flute almost slips from my fingers.

He approaches us with a smile on his face, his eyes never leaving mine. I suddenly feel a little light-headed and I have to remind myself to breathe.

Mr. Carter begins his introductions. "Nick Shafer, I'd like you to meet - "

"Josephine Potter." He finishes, and I swear that I must be dreaming, because it's Pacey Witter taking my nerveless fingers and giving them a light kiss with his warm lips.