She could still see him across the other side of the room, his back turned towards her. She could just make out his laughing face, his tall frame bent slightly, his arm resting against the wall as he appeared to be in rapt, eyes fixed steadily to the young woman in front of him.

It was enough to make her stomach hurl.

Joey dug nails into her thighs, forcing herself to turn away before her look, shooting daggers at a complete stranger and a man she’d known all her life, was enough to make them turn around and see her. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure. The satisfaction.

It was after she’d downed her next glass of wine, finding some comfort in the rich, bitter taste, that she saw Mark, eyeing her worriedly from the corner of the room. Trying hard to control her anger, she placed the glass down a little too hard on the table, and walked steadily towards him.

If anything, he was looking even more worried.

“Mark.”

He coughed quietly, concerned at the quiet control in her voice. “Joey, I…”

“Happy Birthday, Mark.” She gave a twisted smile. “Funny, it’s your day and I’m the one with the present.”

Mark’s eyes widened. “Joey, I swear, I wasn’t even sure he was coming until…”

“Yeah.” Joey looked down, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress. “So I gathered. Well, he’s not wrapped in pink ribbons and wrapping paper, but feel free to take it that I’m sufficiently surprised.”

Mark winced, and she gave a satisfied smile. “I’m sorry, Joey.”

“Why? Because you’re afraid he’s going to recount our sordid history to the rest of your guests and regale the gathered troops with anecdotes on my awful, slutty behaviour five years ago?”

Mark paled, before gaining control again. Reaching out, he grabbed Joey’s wrist firmly, ignoring her cries of protest as he pulled her towards the kitchen. He shook his head briefly, seeing the look of confusion on Pacey’s face as he watched from across the room.

Obviously he was more aware of her than she thought.

Closing the door firmly behind him, Mark leaned against it, giving her no means of escape. “He wouldn’t do that, Joey,” he told her tiredly.

“Really.” She shook her head, hitching herself up onto the counter and crossing her legs. “Well, he certainly felt inclined to remind me of it.”

“I’m surprised you forgot.”

The insult wasn’t lost on Joey, whose body tensed at the remark, fingers gripping hard onto the counter beneath her. “That was low, Mark.”

“Yeah.” He reached up, rubbing his temples. “Well deal with it Joey, because this isn’t my life. It’s not my history, and it’s certainly not my battle. Sure, I can say I knew you way back when, but I also know you now, and let me just warn you, Joey, throwing bitter comments across the room like dust won’t help you any. Or him.”

Joey’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not bitter.”

Mark laughed at the absurdity of her comment. “Joey, you may be able to lie to yourself, but I’ve known you long enough that you cant possibly lie to me.”

“You’re a jerk, do you know that?”

“Yeah, I do.” His mouth broke out into a tiny smile. “But you love me anyway. Just like him.”

There was a breath of silence, weighted down by the tension in the room. “Don’t say that.” Her voice was throaty, broken, but her eyes were hard.

“Why not? It’s the truth.”

“It’s been five years. I don’t forgive that easily. I don’t get over things that quickly.”

“No.” Mark gave her a sad smile as he turned, reaching for the door handle. “And especially not love.”

She was bending over the fridge with a hand on her back when she heard the door open. Sighing, she rubbed at her spine tiredly, throwing her hair over her shoulder as she continued to search the fridge.

“Mark, if you have anything vaguely resembling tonic to go with this hard liquor I found, I’d really like to know.” She sighed, rummaging through the back to find a small plastic bottle. “Bingo.” There was silence, and she could imagine his raised eyebrow.

“Don’t give me that look I *know* you’re giving me, Mark. If I’m going to face Pacey at any point this evening I want to be drunk out of my mind.” Turning round to face him, she opened her mouth to begin another spiel, before she faltered, her face dropping.

Pacey was staring at her in vague amusement, hands on his hips. “Drunk out of your mind, Joey?”

“Pa…I thought it was Mark,” she managed finally, a lump in her throat.

“So I gathered.” Reaching forward, her took the tonic from her hands, pouring a healthy dose of it into the glass. Pulling another from the cupboard above his head, he poured himself a straight gin. He handed her the glass, leaning back against the counter as Joey’s hands clutched each other nervously. “Drink up, then.”

Joey swallowed hard, holding up the glass a little. “Cheers.”

He did the same. “Cheers.” Watching her as he drank, his eyes roamed over her body. He had been lying. She hadn’t changed. Not that much- perhaps a little; she seemed a little older, a little more poised. A little more beautiful.

And his body was obviously predisposed to agree with him. He cursed himself silently, wondering if she noticed his erection.

Hell, maybe she didn’t even care.

“So…you and Mark kept in touch.”

“Yeah.” Joey looked down, running her finger across the rim of the glass. An old habit; she wondered if he remembered. She wondered if he was angry. Mark was their college friend from the time everything had been alright, and during the time everything fell apart.

Maybe he had prayed that Mark had dropped her after everything. And maybe he should have done.

“Longer than five years. I bet you know him well.” His tongue ran slowly over the last word, almost caressing it, a glint in his eyes. Nothing else was necessary, she knew exactly what he meant.

“Better than I know you,” Joey said on a breath, wondering what he’d take from that. She sighed, inwardly. That’s all Mark would want, her insinuating that the two of them were getting horizontal. On a regular basis.

And then she saw his face, smile droop slightly at the edges, a tightness in his chest and arms, and she realised she’d got to him. So maybe it was worth it after all.

“So…” Pacey watched her silently for a moment as she leaned forward, pouring herself a helping of gin. This time no tonic. His eyes ran over her back, the slim line of her, her long legs, feet tucked beneath the long hemline. At some point during the evening she’d removed her shoes.

Pacey felt a familiar tug of affection, and cursed himself again. Arousal was expected; she was a beautiful woman, she always had been. But affection…that was something she’d killed, destroyed, something that had disappeared.

It didn’t belong. Not with her, not with the two of them.

He didn’t care about her. He didn’t love her. He didn’t want her.

Now he just had to remember that.