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Part Eight Joey groaned, and turned over on her stomach, forcing her eyes closed in a bad attempt to stop the pounding in her head, and the queasiness in her stomach. It was not working. The door to the cabin squeaked open, and Pacey poked his head around the side, his hair sticking up at odd angles. "You 'wake, Potter?" Joey grumbled an unintelligible response into her pillow, that roughly sounded like, go away. "In that case, I'll take my triple shot mocha with extra whipped cream and go." "Fine." He rolled his eyes and came inside, "You need caffine." She squeezed her eyes shut. "I need aspirin and a bottle of the pink stuff to wash it down with." He set the two paper cups of coffee on the counter and pulled the drapes on the one window, casting the room into dimness. "I've got both of those too," he opened a cupboard and dumped two tablets into his hand and pulled out the Pepto Bismal. Joey reluctantly, dragged herself into a sitting position. "I feel sick." "You thought you'd be full of energy and good cheer the morning after?" He handed her the pills and her coffee to wash them down with. "Shut up." "Shutting up," he murmured, watching as she tossed the pills back and followed them with a few sips of her coffee. Joey set the coffee down, and laid back down. "I'm dying." "You're fine," he assured her. "I don't feel fine." "Close your eyes," he sat down on the edge of the bed. She let her eyes fall closed, hoping the aspirin would begin to work its magic. "Now take deep breaths," he said quietly. "Still feeling nauseous?" "Yes." Lightly, he put his hand on the flat of her stomach. "Keep breathing, and focus on the feel of my hand." She continued to breathe, and then frowned, wondering why she couldn't exactly remember how she�d gotten here. "Feel it rise and fall with each breath..." he continued, having learned this stress-relieving technique from one of those God awful self-help tapes his mother had all over the house. He figured it'd probably work for a hangover as well. "Breathe into the nausea and feel it recede with each breath." He felt like an idiot. "What am I doing here?" "I couldn't take you home the way you were." "So you brought me here?" "Uh huh," he nodded. "Why?" "Because you were drunk. Where else was I supposed to take you?" "Dawson's?" "What do you remember of last night?" He arched an eyebrow at her, his voice gruff. She remembered jello shots and Jack. She thought harder�and there was biting. The memory of his mouth on her flooded through her system in fractured bits and pieces. It had to have been a dream. "It's kind of a blur." "You were mad at Dawson," he told her. "I didn't want to take you there." "Oh." He moved his thumb back and forth over her stomach, "Feeling better?" She bit her lip. "A little. I think I want to go back to sleep." "I'll give Bessie a call, let her know you're all right." He started to withdraw his hand. "Thanks. I don't want her to kill me." "No problem," he moved to stand up. She smiled faintly, and turned onto her side. "Go back to sleep. You'll feel better." "I hope so." "You will," he sighed and adjusted the blanket on the bed to better cover her. "Lock the door when you leave, okay?" She nodded, curling up the blankets. "Okay." He took his coffee from the counter and beat a hasty retreat out the door, closing it securely behind him. 
"How can you say that?!" Shelly poked Pacey in the chest, hard. Her voice rose with each word. "I can't believe you're that selfish!" "I wasn't being selfish. You were passed out and I wasn't about to sleep there when I had my own bed to go home to." Pacey tried to explain calmly, well aware of the public arena they were having this fight in. "You know, I might actually buy that if you'd spent Friday night in your own bed," She hissed. "What are you talking about?" He grumbled. "I called your house, Pacey. Your mom informed me that you never came home." Joey glanced over at Dawson who was beside her in the hall. He'd been walking her to class when they'd happened upon this little drama. "And this is your business because...?" Pacey asked, folding his arms across his chest. "I'm your girlfriend! And you just...abandoned me there." "You were passed out and you'd planned to spend the night anyway," he reminded her. "What, so that's leave not to call me all weekend?" She pouted. "Shel," he leaned into her, lowering his voice. "You've got no reason to be upset, okay? This isn't a big deal. We're not even serious." "You're right." She said angrily, "You're absolutely right. We're not serious. We're not casual. In fact," she glared at him, "We're not even together anymore. Good-bye!" With that, she whirled on her heel and stalked away. Joey arched an eyebrow. "Well, that was certainly interesting." Dawson watched Pacey lean tiredly against the wall, his eyes closed. "You think he's gonna be okay?" "Maybe you should talk to him." "And say what exactly?" Dawson wondered, "Pacey's got way more experience being dumped than I do." Joey shrugged. "Some words of encouragement might be nice." "Okay," he held her hand, taking her with him as he walked up to Pacey. "You okay?" "What?" Pacey looked from Dawson and then to Joey, and immediately back to Dawson. "Yeah, man. I'm fine. Nothing like breaking up to jump start your Monday." Joey shrugged. "I've never liked her." "You made that abundantly clear. She was too good for me, I know." His expression darkened as he focused his eyes on her. "I don't need you to remind me. Again." "A real drama queen." "You'll get over her soon enough, Pace." Dawson said with an ignorant smile, "It's not as if you guys were even together long. Had you even gotten her into bed yet?" Joey rolled her eyes at Dawson. "What does that have to do with anything?" "Well, you know Pacey," he glanced at his girlfriend. "If they haven't had sex, it's not a real relationship." "Thanks, man." Pacey muttered sarcastically. Joey frowned. "Are you okay?" Dawson gave her a funny look, "Of course I am." She smacked his arm. "I was talking to Pacey. You can be so dense." "Oh, right. I knew that." Dawson nodded his head. "Sure ya did, D." Pacey shook his head and pushed away from the wall. "Thanks for the mock concern, both of you, but I can do without the insincere sympathy. I'll see ya in class." Joey grabbed Dawson's hand. "Come on, let's go then." Pacey walked away in the other direction.
Most of the time, when he was working on the boat, he was inwardly praying for an electric sander. Not today. Today Pacey was more than happy to use brute strength to smooth the worn wood and remove chipped paint. He worked with an almost manic anger. Letting his thoughts fuel his body. Despite the cold, he'd taken off his jacket already and worked in a t-shirt, the brisk breeze helping to cool him. Joey slowly approached him, and bit her lip not exactly sure what she should say. "It's not like you to stay quiet for long," Pacey said, not looking up at her as he renewed his energy and started scrubbing against grain of the wood. She shrugged, uncomfortably. "I just wanted to see how you were doing." "Worried? " "Concerned." "Why?" He sped up his actions. "I know you really liked her." "You heard Dawson. I hadn't slept with her yet, so it's not like she meant anything." "That's not true." "Oh yeah?" "You disagree?" "I don't think you know me that well. In fact, I'd venture to say you don't know me at all. And you never have." "That's not completely my fault." "You're right. Not completely." "So you want to talk about it?" He stopped sanding and looked at her, "Why are you here?" She bit her lip. "Because no matter how much you say you want to be alone right now, you don't mean it." "And you think you're the person best suited to keep me company?" He scoffed, "Thanks, but no thanks. I don't need you to malign my character for the afternoon, I'm doing a fine job of it on my own." "I come in peace. Really." "Fine," he turned away and grabbed a sander from the deck of the boat and threw it at her. "If you're going to loiter, I'm going to put you to work." Joey sighed, walking over to the hull. "I am such a sucker." "Where's Dawson?" He asked, going back to work. "Working." "Ahh, that explains it." "Explains what?" "You must be really bored to come looking for me." "Extremely." "Oh, Bite me." She smiled. "You wish." "Nope," he lied. "Don't wish for that at all. I wish for you to lick me." What kind of idiot tried to flirt with a woman who hated him? Oh, that was right. He was. "Keep dreaming." "Every night." And that was more true than he ever wanted to admit. She rolled her eyes. "Keep that to yourself." "No, I figured I'd tell your boyfriend." He shook his head, "I'm not that masochistic." "Why didn't you just tell Shelly the truth about where you were?" "Because it's none of her business where I was or who I was with." He answered shortly. "It's not that big of a deal." "Which is why I didn't tell her." "Okay..." "When does Dawson get off work?" Joey shrugged. "I'm not sure." "Interesting." "What?" "Nothing, just thought it curious that you don't know when Dawson's done. Or that you seem to care all that much." "It doesn't mean anything." "Nothing ever does with you, does it?" "What's that supposed to mean?" "Whatever you think it means." She frowned, and focused on the boat in front of her. He was quiet for a while. "Dawson was right, you know," he muttered minutes later. "About?" "I didn't care about her. Not how you think." "Oh." "She's a sweet girl and a good friend." "Oh, I see." "Do you?" She nodded. "Yeah." "That's a first." She rolled her eyes. "Thanks." "You haven't exactly shown yourself to be perceptive where I'm concerned, Jo." "You're not exactly an open book." "You have a point there," he agreed. "Exactly." "What do you want to know?" "Nothing." His shoulders slumped ever so slightly, "Why am I not surprised?" "Is there something you want me to know?" His jaw tightened. "Me. I want you to know me." "Okay." "Okay?" He turned to look at her finally, his eyes dark with suppressed emotion. She nibbled on her lower lip nervously. "What?" "I don't get you, Joey." He threw down his sander and stalked over to her. "I tell you I want you to know me and you say okay? What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" "I can't know you unless you let me." "I have! What do you think the last five months have been about? Yet, you still think I'm the same fuck up you've always known." He turned away from her and bent to pick up the sander. "That's not true." "Yeah, right." "It's not." "And you've done such a good job of convincing me otherwise. Let me applaud you for that," he went back to work, furiously moving the sander over the wood. She frowned. "Okay, I'm sorry. I suck." "Go home, Joey." She tossed the sand paper down. "Fine." "I knew you wouldn't last," he said derisively. "What do you want from me!?" "I want you to care about me the way that I care about you!" He yelled at her, "I don't want to be some guy you kiss when the whim hits. I don't want to be the friend you walk all over. And I sure as hell don't want to be someone you hate!" "Then what do you want?" He ground his teeth, "Damn it, Joey! You, I want you!" Stalking angrily towards her, he continued to yell. "I'm in love with you. Yes, that's right, I Pacey Witter, am helplessly, hopelessly, stupidly in love with you!" He growled at her as her mouth fell open. "And before you even think of saying anything, here's what we're going to do. "You're going to tell me how pathetic I am. How stupid and worthless you've always thought me to be. What an idiot I was for thinking you might love me back! Because that's what I need so I can get the hell over you and on with my life!" She stood there dumbly, blinking in surprise. "You're in love with me?" "God, yes!" He threw his hands up in frustration. "Do I need to take out a full page ad?! Would that make it any more obvious?" "When? Why? How?" "What does it matter?" He glared at her, his breathing erratic, "Just tell me and get it over with!" She bit her lip. "Fine." He waited, his hands fisted at his sides. "What? You can't even hate me right?" "I don't hate you," she said quietly. "What then?! Is hate too tame a word? You despise me. You're disgusted. Appalled. Repulsed. Pick and adjective, I've heard them all." "Why are you doing this?" "Isn't it obvious?" He demanded. "Falling for you has driven me past the brink of sanity!" She fell silent for a moment. "And this is my fault?" "It's no one's fault but my own." He muttered, shaking his head and looked past her to the water beyond. He sighed despondently, the fight visibly draining from him. "But could you please just make this easy for me and dash whatever lingering hopes I might have?" "You want me to tell you I hate you?" "Yes." "I hate you." His eyes flickered from the horizon to her, "It would help if I could believe you." She shrugged. "I'm a bad actress." "Joey..." his brow furrowed as he looked down at the ground, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Sorry?" "I can't do this anymore." She took a step toward him, and placed a hand lightly on his cheek. "You're pathetic." His eyes flew to hers, "Don't--" "And..." she moved closer ignoring his words. "And stupid." Involuntarily, he tilted his face into her hand, his eyes falling closed in desperation. "Jo..." She raised her lips to his. "And an idiot," she breathed softly. He only let the contact last a moment and took a startled step back. She followed. "Now hurry up and get the hell over me." She smiled faintly, and then kissed him. His lips parted against hers in stunned helplessness. Breaking the kiss, he caught his breath. It didn't take him long to regain his senses and bury his hands in her hair, and dragging her mouth back to his in a fierce kiss. She pulled away, breathing heavily. "There. I said it." "Stop talking," he demanded, moving his hand from her hair and pulled her body against his. Catching her lips again, he kissed the very breath from her lungs. She nodded against his mouth, sliding her arms over his shoulders as she returned his kiss. His hands moved possessively through her hair, wrapping the strands around his fingers and gently massaging her scalp, sending shivers down her spine. Heart pounding unsteadily, he slid his tongue into her mouth, exploring the wet heat with compelling tenderness. She moaned softly, before reluctantly pulling away. Pacey leaned into her, keeping their lips in contact as long as possible. His breathing was harsh as he stepped back, releasing her completely from his grasp. It took him several moments before he could bring himself to look at her, "Was that some sort of consolation prize?" She shook her head, still waiting for her breath to return to normal. "No." "Then what, Jo?" He asked, the taste of her still on his lips. "You're in love with Dawson." She nodded. "Right." He stiffened at her immediate response and the vivid sincerity in it. "So that was just...what? An attempt to kiss a real man for once?" She frowned. "No." "What then?!" He demanded running a hand through his hair in frustration, causing it to stand on end. "God, you have this way of making me so angry that I can't even think straight." She bit her lip. "I don't know. I'm not sure." "Well, then I suggest you find out," he said coldly, turning away from her and climbing the stairs to go into the cabin of True Love. "I'm sorry." "That I fell in love with you?" He scoffed and continued his ascent. "Yeah, me too." Please send feedback to [email protected] and [email protected]
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