***

My lashes slowly flutter upwards, eyes adjusting to the soft, yellow-orange light of the room. The clock on the nightstand to my left says four-twenty-one in bright red digital numbers. My limbs feel deliciously tired as I stretch them beneath the unfamiliar gray cotton sheets.

A smile creeps across my lips as realization sinks in. I can feel his warmth beside me, can tell that he's awake. I turn over, unhurriedly moving to lie on the right side of my body while pretending that I'm still asleep, so that I can peek up at him.

Something tugs at my heart when I see him through down-turned lashes. A thick, leather-bound book is resting low on his abdomen, his hands supporting either side. His chest is bare and his back is leaning against the headboard. His eyebrows are knit in concentration, a pair of glasses with thin black wire frames perched on his nose.

"Did I wake you?" Pacey asks, lips quirking, eyes still on the book.

I turn to lie on my stomach, elbows supporting my torso as I tilt my head to study him. "No."

He closes the book and puts it on the nightstand. "Couldn't sleep." He rubs the bridge of his nose with his fingers, closing his eyes.

"When did you start wearing glasses?" I can't look away, absolutely entranced by how different he looks. How unbelievably sexy.

"Since college," he half-smiles, half-grimaces and reaches up to take them off. "Mostly they're for reading."

I touch his arm to stop him. "Don't take them off." I grin widely. "I kinda like 'em."

Pacey grins back at me. "Oh, you do, do you?"

"Yes." The word extends on my tongue, exaggerated. A girly shriek bursts out of my throat as I roll over to the far side of the wide bed to dodge his tickling fingers. "Pacey!"

He settles back onto his side with a disarming smile. "Okay, I'll stop, I promise." His hand pats the empty space beside him. "C'mere."

I inch closer, keeping a suspicious eye on him and clutching the thin blanket to my chest. Pacey looks at me with an angelic expression and then frowns thoughtfully.

"You hungry?"

I consider the question before answering gaily, brows raised. "Are you going to feed me?"

He gets off the bed and pulls on a pair of navy blue boxers, giving me a very good view of his firm backside. "Maybe." He glances over his shoulder before reaching the door and catches me staring at his butt, shooting me a smug look.

I stick my tongue out and grab a pillow to throw, but it ends up hitting the door with a soft phlump. "Egotist!"

Pacey comes back holding a pint of vanilla ice cream and one spoon. He sits back down on the bed and slowly takes off the lid. Sticking the spoon in, he hands it to me.

I push myself up to sit beside him, blanketed knees to chest. I take one big spoonful and offer it to him. He eats it in a way that makes my pulse begin to race, licking the creamy white glob with his tongue before taking it all into his mouth, eyes on me.

I scoop again and take a bite myself, the sweetness cooling me inside to compensate for the heat that was beginning to radiate from my skin. "So," I clear my throat while feeding him another spoonful, feeling the sudden urge to start a conversation. "Where did you go for college?"

He waits a few minutes before answering. His stare is fixed on the pint that I'm holding in my hand, leaving me unable to read what he's thinking. "CCC. Basically, that was the only school I could get into after high school." My chest tightens and my gaze slides down to the quickly-disappearing ice cream. Tears prick at the back of my eyes at the image of him being left behind in Capeside after the rest of us had left. "I worked my butt off and transferred to UMass after two years. Then I went to Penn."

I nod my head, afraid to ask him the question foremost in my mind. Did you hate me?

"When did you change your name?" I ask instead.

"I've wanted to change it since I started at CCC. But I couldn't, of course, because obviously I couldn't alter school records. Mike and I became friends at Penn. He was the Dean's son, the son of a bitch," Pacey smiles fondly. "So when he invited me to start up a firm here in New York, I switched to Nicholas Shafer without having to show anybody a diploma to get a job."

"What about you?" He asks after a short pause. "When did you break up with Dawson?"

The question causes me to look quickly at him, surprised by his bluntness.

"I'm assuming you've broken up with him…?" He jokes.

"Of course I have!" The reply bursts out instantly. "He went to California, like I said, and I came here." I sigh heavily and stare into the ice cream. "It was impossible. We broke up four months after college started, and I became my old, nerdy, obsessive self while Jen tried again and again to set me up on one embarrassing blind date after another. But college was really fun, you know? I completely fell in love with New York."

"How often did you go back to Capeside?"

"A few times. Mostly during Thanksgiving, and when Bessie had Sam." I sit up and turn to him. "I almost forgot! We're having a 10th year reunion at the Yacht Club in June."

He stiffens almost imperceptibly beside me. "I know. Andie told me."

It takes a second for the meaning of his words to hit me, and when it does a sharp stab of pain slashes through my chest. "Oh. You've been in contact with Andie?" I'm surprised that my voice sounds so nonchalant.

Pacey nods slowly. "A few letters, e-mails. She kept tabs on me even after graduation. And…" he visibly hesitates, "she knew…"

"That you didn't want anyone else to know about where you were?" I fill in the words for him, fighting a hollow sadness that begins to fill me inside.

He looks at me. "Yeah." Silence fills the room for one long moment before he stares off again and smiles, shaking his head. "I couldn't hide from a stubborn McPhee, even when she's living in Italy."

"Is she going?" The ice cream is gone by now. My finger traces imaginary circles on the small expanse of gray cloth separating us.

"I don't know."

"Are you?"

He sighs and turns to the lamp beside him. "I don't know, Joey. I might be… busy. We just got this big case this week."

"Oh."

"Hey." He nudges my shoulder with his, grinning at me again. "You didn't tell me about those blind dates of yours."

I look at him archly. "You tell me about your conquests first, Mr. Shafer. How many misinformed, unenlightened women have you left weeping at your unworthy feet?"

In one swift move he takes the empty pint from my hand and pins me down on the bed, smiling down at me wickedly. "'Unworthy feet'?" His hands inch down to my waist to start tickling.

"Pacey!" I shriek, laughing, and it takes all my strength - and a little of his cooperation, I think - for me to push him so that I end up straddling him.

My eyes narrow at his laughing face. "Yes. Unworthy."

"Ouch," he gives me a fake wince while his hands slowly slide up along my hips to my waist, reminding me that I'm stark naked on top of him and causing my skin to flush hotly. "You could seriously hurt a guy with that tongue of yours, Ms. Potter."

My retort ends up coming out as a gasp. His hands cup my breasts gently, massaging the soft flesh and sending a thousand tiny tingles down my spine.

I lean down, slipping his glasses up off his nose to place them on the nightstand. I hold his face in my hands as my mouth opens hungrily over his, his tongue meeting mine while his fingers trace circles around my aroused nipples.

My hair teases his skin lightly as I move down, kissing and licking at his chin, the dip at the base of this throat, his chest. I can feel his hardness straining against the wetness between my legs through his boxers.

I dip my tongue along the grooves on his torso defining his well-toned abdomen while my hands take hold of the waistband of his boxers and pull them down.

"Jo…" He groans, trying to pull me back up when I wrap my fingers around him. "You don't…"

I smile up at him before taking him into my mouth, my tongue bathing the head with slow, lazy circles. Alternately licking and sucking, I move my head up and down, taking him as far as I can.

Pacey grips my hands after a few minutes, pulling me up. "I want to be inside you," he rasps out, kissing me until my lips feel full and swollen.

I guide him in while he watches me with passion-clouded eyes. Pausing briefly when my butt touches his hips to get accustomed to the new position, I raise myself again, the incredible sensations making me feel weak-kneed. He touches my hips lightly and lets me take complete control. The urgency inside me begins to escalate and the rhythm begins to pick up, my heat taking in his hardness with every movement.

Tight swirls of pure pleasure begin to coil at the base of my stomach. I continue to move, lost in sensation after sensation until everything unravels and streaks of unadulterated bliss shoot through every part of my body, my muscles tightening around his length and coaxing him toward his own release.

My upper body falls down onto him in the aftermath, his hands rubbing the dampened skin on my back as his lips plant a soft kiss on my forehead. I snuggle closer, finding a space between his chin and his chest on which to rest my cheek. Pacey pulls the blanket over us and reaches up to turn off the lamp on his nightstand.

Light gray streaks of the pre-dawn sunlight filter in through the blinds covering the wide glass windows, bathing the room in the cool dimness of an early morning in late spring.

Pacey stirs beside me. His arm still lay around me, its weight heavy but reassuring. We had ended up in a variation of the position in which we had drifted off to sleep; I was no longer on top of him, but my hair spread out in a dark fan near his head and over his arm, my cheek resting somewhere on his arm, right below his shoulder. The thin cotton blanket is wrinkled around our legs.

My arm is slung across his torso, my fingers now absently dancing in a light, scratching motion on his stomach as I listen to the rhythm of his deep and steady breathing.

He looks… vulnerable. The features of his face, every dent and curve so familiar to me when I was a child, had matured beautifully with time to give him the strong appearance of a man who has experienced a lot and in his own terms. But together with that is something that still looks to me like the Pacey I knew when we were growing up; maybe it's the way the dark brown of his lashes rest gently against his skin, like a baby sleeping soundly, or the way the corners of his lips sort of curve up in the ghost of a smirk amid early morning stubble, like a witty comment could slip out at any second.

Gingerly, I turn my head to look at the clock on the nightstand. It's not even sunrise yet and already I'm starting to feel hungry. As if on cue, my stomach gives off a distinctive growl.

I glance at him again. "Are you awake?" I whisper softly, not really expecting an answer but wanting to talk to him anyway. I smile to myself as he continues to sleep, completely oblivious.

Careful not to wake him, I take his arm and place it on the bed so that I can get up. I tiptoe on bare feet around the room, putting on underwear and picking up my discarded clothing from the floor, a warm flush coming over me as the events of the night before replay themselves in my head.

Planning to get dressed in the guest bathroom and rummage around the kitchen to come up with something for breakfast, I walk with light, muffled steps towards the bedroom door.

"Leaving me so early?" Pacey's deep, sleepy voice stops me in my tracks.

Starting guiltily, I turn to face him, clothes and shoes in a bundle in my hands. He's half-sitting up in bed with tousled hair and eyes that are barely open.

"No, I'm hungry. Was gonna go dig up something for breakfast."

He pauses before answering. "I don't think there's any food."

My eyebrows quirk in amusement. "You don't have any food?"

"Give a guy a break, Potter. I just moved in. I haven't exactly had a lot of time to go shopping, save for a few bare necessities."

"Bare necessities, meaning… ice cream?" I inquire impertinently and turn around before he can reply, sighing heavily. "I guess it's up to the resourceful, responsible female to come up with something edible to feed the helpless, needy male. Let me just get dressed."

"Show-off!" I hear him call after me. Then, "Wait, Joey!"

I look back and tap my foot, feigning impatience. "Yes?"

"Are you sure you can cook?"

My jaw drops in indignation.

Pacey laughs. "Sorry. Seriously, what would I do without you?"

"Starve to death?" I reply sweetly before turning away again.

Five minutes later, I find out just how little food he's bought. The refrigerator contains approximately two cans of beer and one bottle of water. All the cupboards lining the walls of his kitchen are completely empty. And my stomach is beginning to growl louder and louder.

He comes out of the bedroom fresh from a shower, wearing a casual collared shirt and khakis, newly-shaven, hair still slightly damp. My heart lurches.

"Find anything?"

"Not unless you'd like to have beer for breakfast."

"Let's go, then. Helpless, needy male will buy resourceful, responsible female some breakfast."

I glance down at myself, still wearing my clothes from last night. "Why don't we go to my place?" I suggest. "I've got plenty of food."

He agrees and we go to the basement for his car. We drive in silence to my apartment building, the streets of the city mostly empty in the early hours of Sunday morning. I keep my gaze fixed on the window beside me while reality begins to sink in. What now?

Pacey follows me to my apartment without saying a word and waits while I unlock the door. My mind runs through several different ways to ask him what he's thinking. I drop my coat and purse onto the couch and head straight for the kitchen, voicing out another question instead. "Omelet?"

"Sounds good," he nods, looking around uncertainly.

"You can sit down, you know." I smile at him over the breakfast counter that separates the kitchen from the living room, turning on the coffee machine and preparing the ingredients for the omelets.

He smiles faintly but doesn't sit down, taking a little tour of my apartment much like he had done in my office.

My movements are mechanical, every part of me acutely aware of the fact that he's here, with me. I have to keep myself from letting my brain jump ahead, worrying about how we're going to treat each other now that… it… has happened, and concentrate on cooking.

"Let's eat. I'm starving," I announce when the food is done, placing two plates on the dining table together with two mugs of steaming coffee.

Pacey pauses at a wall with framed black and white pictures. "Was this at graduation?" He asks, looking closely at one and sounding amazed.

It was the one that Dawson had taken, right before he kissed and congratulated me. My face had been a mixture of teary sadness and nostalgic joy, and the picture emphasized that with its close proximity and stark colors. My heart sinks as I remember what I was thinking on that day.

"It's great. You look… different in it." He continues as he sits on the opposite of the table and starts digging into his food. "Who took it?"

I stare at him, wondering if this was some sort of trick question. "Dawson." I answer faintly.

He nods and goes on eating. "He's pretty good." He takes another bite. "Joey, this is actually delicious," he looks at me with a shocked expression on his face.

Relieved that the discussion didn't turn too awkward, I roll my eyes at him. "It would be, to someone who can't even feed himself like a normal person."

"Hey. You ate my ice cream, didn't you?"

Laughter almost causes me to choke on coffee. "Right, and you were planning to drink beer and water for breakfast."

"If you must know, I was intending to do my shopping today."

"What's on the list? Ice cream and beer?"

"And chocolate syrup. Vanilla ice cream should always go with chocolate syrup." He grins.

Sarcastic banter laces through the rest of our short, impromptu meal. By the time Pacey stands up to leave, bright sunlight is streaming in through my windows, and the sounds of a city awake are wafting through the curtains.

I walk him out to the car while chewing on my lip and furiously wondering what to say. He unlocks the door to the driver's side and leans against it, turning to face me.

"Well, thank you for feeding this helpless, needy male. My internal organs are forever in your debt."

"You're going to do your shopping now?" I blurt out, not knowing what else to ask him.

"Yes. Are you offering to help?"

"I'd love to, but I'd rather take a shower."

He smiles.

I smile back. A woman passes behind me on the sidewalk, jogging. Across the street, a man walks by holding the hand of a little girl, his other hand holding the leash of a small beagle.

Pacey pulls open the door to his car. "I'll call you later, Potter." He takes my hand, catching me by surprise, and plants a soft kiss on my knuckles.

"Okay." I reply, and stay standing on the sidewalk in front of my apartment building, watching as he drives away.