Truth Be Told

By Cybele

As a young woman, Joey relives the special moments in her life and asks herself, “What if...”

Do you ever really regret anything in life? I always had this feeling, as a child, that I would live a life full of regrets…

Joey looked up from her computer and rubbed her eyes. She's been working on this website for hours and she's feeling ready to fling her mouse across the room. She was ready for a hissy fit and a half, truth be told. However, when she leaned back into her chair and looked at the monitor, she just had to smile. The blue and yellow logo said "JP Interior Designs."

At least part of my dream is coming true, she thought. Her life had too many what if's, too many could have been's and should have done's. If she had just grabbed the bull by the horns and fought her fears, maybe she wouldn't be feeling this sad. No, not sad. More of empty. Like something is missing.

She looks at the phone and wills it to ring. Anyone. Just call. Talk to me. I'm tired and alone on a Friday night. You could be Matthew Caulfield for all I care. Just someone please call me?

Sighing heavily, she lights a cigarette and looks at the only picture on her desk. It was a picture of Pacey. Unbeknownst to him, she had crept up to the dock and taken a picture of him on the True Love. He pinned all his hopes and dreams on that boat. Under the sun he stood, shirtless and sweaty, hosing down his beloved boat. For once, he was truly happy. For once, he had not a care in the world and the only thing he could think of was the seven seas he was going to sail in.

Back then; though she'd be reluctant to admit it, life was so simple. Black and white.

"I can't stand this anymore. I am so ready to crack! Pass me my coffee, will you?" she said to Pacey. Through some stroke of luck, Pacey and Joey had decided to go to the same university together. It was their final year and they have been hitting the books, preparing for their final exam. Well, at least I am...

He mumbled, chips falling out of his mouth, "You work too hard, Potter. I truly suggest that you stop trying to study. Look around you! It's bright, sunshiny day and you've cooped yourself up in this dorm room!"

"Well, Mr. Witter, if I don't do well on these exams, I can kiss graduate school goodbye!" she snapped. "Now hand me my coffee before I die of caffeine withdrawal!"

As he plopped down beside her, he asked, "Wow, you're thinking that far ahead? I've got only one goal in mind right now and that is to graduate. With D's…for done! Seriously, I wouldn't know what to do with myself after I graduate. High school had to be dealt with. Now college has to be dealt with. Afterwards… God knows…"

Looking up from her books, she stared at him pointedly, "You still haven't changed have you? For you this is just another obstacle you have to go through, like a little rock in your path that you have to kick out of the way, right? Pacey, you really have to think of what your future plans are. You're not going to die anytime soon so you'd better figure out what you want to do for the rest of your life."

"I know. It's the figuring out part that's just so troublesome to do. Speaking of troublesome, aren't you tired of studying? Let's get out of here. It's a Friday night and I'm itching to hit the town."

She sighed and looked up at him, a half smile on her face. "What the hell…let's grab a drink? God knows I need one. Come by for me at 9?"

He jumped up from her bed and rubbed his hands together. "That's the spirit, Potter! Get off your lazy bum and enjoy a little revelry on a Friday night. It's just a shame that you have to ask me out so you can pretend to your friends that you have a social life…" Before he could get anything out, it was too late to avoid the pillow being thrown his way...

Several hours later, Pacey and Joey found themselves in their favorite bar. The bartender waved at them and signaled that their table was still available. Pacey shouted above the blaring Latin music, "Two gin tonics!"

"Pacey, we need lives! Haven't you noticed that we've been hanging out in this bar for over three years and we've always ordered gin tonics? Don't you think it's time we do something different?" Joey said, exasperated.

"Oooh! Little Miss Adventurous! What's say we just grab a drink here and really check out the town? What's on your mind? Dancing? Clubbing? Topless bars? Ow!" he yelled, rubbing the spot where Joey just pinched him.

"I am not going to tolerate that kind of misogynistic remark from you, Witter! Come on, let's do something different tonight!"

"Yeah, yeah, let's decide as soon as we get to our table and down a few alcoholic beverages. Maybe in our imbibed state of mind, we may come to an amicable decision, OK? Now," he said, pushing Joey towards the quiet booth, "plant your ass over there. I gotta go to the john."

Joey makes her way to their usual table and literally plops on it. Hitting the bars can be so tiring. She wonders why she lets Pacey drag her to this place every weekend. I guess little rituals make me feel at home. She was referring to the gang's weekly movie nights at Dawson's house. Now that was one well-worn tradition.

She brings out her pack and rummages through her bags for a lighter. Just as she was about to let loose a series of expletives, a flame shoots up in front of her.

"Here." The voice (and the hand that held the lighter) belonged to a man. A pretty good-looking man.

"Thanks," she said with a smile, cupping her hands around his.

"So, you come here often?" he said.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please! Can't you come up with something more original?"

He laughed and said, "Believe me, I've tried. But I've decided that the direct approach is the simplest and most effective approach."

She had to smile at that. "A little presumptuous tonight, aren't we? I'm Joey Potter."

"I'm Bryan. Bryan Hayward."

Just as she was about to ask about him, Pacey loomed over behind Bryan. He looked quizzically at Joey, placing the gin tonics on their table then gave Bryan a not-so-friendly tap on the shoulder.

Bryan looked over and met eye to eye with Pacey. After introducing himself to Pacey, he looked back at Joey and said; "I'll see you around, Joey."

"Later, Bryan." She smiled at him and took a sip of her drink. "Thanks for the light."

Pacey sat beside her, pushing her towards the window and turns to her. "So, I leave you for five minutes and you're already picking up men? Potter, never thought you had it in you!" He smiled at her but his face hardened as he looked over her shoulder. "That guy looked kinda sleazoid, don't you think? All that long greasy hair. And what's with the all-black outfit? He's probably one of those deadbeat poet types..."

"First off, I wasn't picking up men. I needed a light, he gave me one. Secondly, he doesn't look like a sleazoid. He looks... intense? Thirdly, he's probably a poet or an artist, but he's far from looking like a deadbeat. Now you..." She was about to tick off the numerous characteristics when Pacey interrupted her.

"So, have you decided what you want to do tonight?" he asked. He leans across her, and reaches for her cigarettes.

God, how I love the way he smells... "Uhm...uhm...not really." She looks around and sees a poster on the wall. "Hey, that's interesting! A midnight poetry reading!"

"Are you serious? You want to be surrounded by a bunch of people clad in black, posing themselves off as the next Sylvia Plath? Puh-leeze. I think we should just go dancing instead." He downs his drink. "You want anything?"

"Pacey? Listen to me for a second. Every weekend for the last three years, we've come to this bar and downed gin tonics. Granted we have had different kinds of experiences here ranging from throwing up in the john to dancing to Santana's Smooth on top of tables, I think it's time we broaden our horizons. So, let's head out to that poetry reading, OK? Please?" She looked up at him and blinked slowly, several times. She leaned closer to him, putting her head on his shoulder. "Please? I'll buy you the latest issue of Playboy..."

Amphetamine

"I cannot believe you've convinced me to go to this poetry reading. I just hope the next issue of Playboy is really good." He looked at her and pinched her cheeks. "So, is little Miss Potter gonna go to the magazine man and ask for my Playboy magazine?"

"Bite me, Pacey! Now," she yelled, grabbing his hand as they ran across the street, "we gotta hurry!" She felt his fingers wrap around hers, closing his strong and rough hand. She looked down at the ground as she felt that tingle go through her body. Again. Each little touch, each little look. When did this all happen? Where the hell was my brain when I began to feel this way?!?

As soon as they reached the sidewalk, Joey dropped his hand. Looking up at him, his face flushed from the cold and his hair a mess from...his hair is always an adorable mess...

"So, Joey," he said, disturbing her thoughts, "you know where this place is?"

She shook herself awake. "Yeah, yeah," she distractedly replied. "It's in the other side of town."

"So, let's walk and talk, woman!"

They walked in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying the cool spring weather. Then out of the blue, Joey spoke. "I'm so glad we're doing something different! We've become so predictable! Like... like an old couple!" She looks up at him, half- praying that he won't catch her eye.

"I don’t' know about you, Joey, but I am so far from predictable. In fact, I think I'm one of the least predictable people on the planet..."

Just as he was about to rave on and on about his exploits and misadventures, he was interrupted by a burst of snorts from the woman standing beside him. "You? Not predictable? You've got to be kidding me! I can bet a hundred dollars on your habits and rituals, my friend. You say that you are not. Sometimes, people will believe that you're Mr. Adventurous. But I know you, Pacey. You need a semblance of pattern in your life to survive. Something as basic as doing your laundry every Wednesday."

"I...I...do not do my laundry every Wednesday! In fact, last week, I did it on a Thursday!" he objected.

"Knock it off, Pacey. Just admit it. There is a part of you that's anal-retentive. I'm not comparing you to me, I know how obsessive-compulsive I am with my habits and schedules. But... you? You're stable. You're rooted. You're..." She pauses to turn to him and stare at him as innocently as possible. "...predictable."

He growled and began to throttle her, shaking her back and forth, which just sent her into another giggling fit. He growled and laughed at the same time, saying, "Take it back, Potter! Take it back!"

They argued and sparred all the way to the other side of town. Yet they fell silent as they entered the little bar. It was a hushed environment. All you could hear was the clinking of glasses and the intake of breath as people dragged on their cigarettes. Everyone was focused on the soft, quiet voice coming from the stage.

"Wow, is this a poetry reading or a funeral?" Pacey whispered. He didn't have a chance to say anything else because Joey had just elbowed the wind out of him.

A waiter seats them and asks for their orders. Without looking at the waiter, they both say, "Gin tonic." They giggle a little bit together.

"So much for trying something different!" Joey said, smiling. "Waiter, I'll have your craziest drink."

"I cannot end this night being out-drunk by a girl." He looked at the waiter and said, "Waiter, give me your biggest and craziest drink."

They laughed together for a while then turned to look at the person on stage. She was talking about love lost and second chances. Joey looked around her and saw how the audience was just captivated by her. And all she was doing was standing underneath some cheap spotlight and reading from this piece of paper. There was so much power in what she was doing, in how she was able to connect to the audience. It wasn't like she was baring her soul on the Ricki Lake show. [Author's Pop Quiz: Which DC song is this line from?] She was speaking but her words were like a beautiful painting---creating a picture for the audience, creating a feeling for the listener.

Their drinks came and more drinks came. The night wore on. Pacey laughed loudly when a comic poet came on stage and talked about his obsession with household paint. Joey cried when the male poet talked of death, family and autumn leaves. Pacey teared when the man spoke of brotherhood, camaraderie and memories of sunshine on his face. In the darkness and with the alcohol, both Pacey and Joey felt that they could just unlock the doors that sealed them shut from the rest of the world and just let the poems move them as they wanted to be moved.

Then the lights came on. The audience groaned at this intrusion of their reverie.

"Thank you, thank you everyone!" the host said into the microphone. "Tonight was a special night for the bar. We had readers from all over town. But tonight is more special than usual. Without further ado...to those with that little piece of poetry tucked away in your back pocket, come on up!"

Dead silence. No one stood up. Joey looked around but no one moved. Then, she heard a rustling beside her. Pacey had stood up, albeit weaving a little bit back and forth. He was holding a piece of crumpled paper and was walking towards the stage.

The host smiled and said, "Alright! We've got ourselves a brave soul over here! You remember what this poetry reading is about people! It's all about sharing what you've got, it’s all about letting people hear your voice. Let's hear it for...what's your name?"

"Pacey Witter." He tries to look beyond the stage but the spotlight is on his face.

"Alright then! Here you go." He handed the microphone to Pacey and signaled to the crew. The lights dimmed. The audience fell silent.

Pacey scrounges around for a cigarette and lights it. He blows a little smoke down the side of his mouth. He looks up at the audience. His eyes are a little glassy. He coughed a little bit. Then, in a low yet commanding voice, he said:

"She was my Prozac on nights
when the clock spoke to me.
She was my amphetamine
when the rain drummed a dull rhythm on my head.
She was both sanity and daydreams,
both nomad and Rock of Gibraltar.
She was my Alhambra,
the beautiful castle I watched stand tall
as I walked away, trapped in my own fear."

The bar thundered in applause.

Joey sat frozen on her chair. In the darkness, she was sure that Pacey could not see her so she could stare as wantonly as she wanted, she could look at him and just let her feelings show. The irony of it was, he couldn't see them. Her heart began to pound so hard, so loudly that she feared that the audience would turn around and look at her and say in one voice, "Ssssh! Woman, can't you see we're trying to listen here?!?"

Wringing her hands, she wished deep in her heart that Pacey was reading the poem to her, for her. She prayed that she was the light in his life, the inspiration behind those beautiful words. She shook her head in amazement. Is this Pacey Witter?!? Just when I chalked him up to be predictable, he goes off and does this...

Shaken from her reverie by the applause that greeted Pacey's comical bow, she stood up and clapped loudly, whistling and hooting. Naturally, a few people turned around to see whom the cheerleader was but she didn't care. This was her friend. This was what the people in Capeside branded the loser and slacker. Truth be told, Pacey was deeper than the sardonic, stand-up comedian he is. There is more to him. And she is proud to have witnessed that depth.

Walking towards her table, Pacey exchanged a few high-fives and handshakes with the audience. What a natural performer, she thought, sarcastically, a half-smile forming on her face.

"So, Potter...whatcha think?" He smiled smugly and sipped his drink. "I tell ya, I'm willing to bet you didn't find that predictable!"

"Oooh! So this is all about me calling you predictable, huh? You're so defensive, I tell you!" Her tone softened and she cocked her head to one side, trying to hide her face with her hand as she tucked her hair behind her ear. "That was a really good poem, Pacey. Never thought you had it in you. And yeah, if we did bet, I would have lost. Guess I owe you a hundred dollars?"

"A hundred dollars and the latest issue of Playboy, don't forget!" he quipped. "Now that I've done the unpredictable, can we do something predictable? Like go to another bar and drink? Please?" He leaned close to her and placed his head on her shoulder, mimicking what she did earlier that night to convince him to come here. He looked up at her and blinked slowly with those dark blue eyes of his. "Pretty please? With lots of cherries, no not the hymen kind, on top?"

Joey prayed to all the gods in the skies and beyond that Pacey did not hear her sharp intake of breath. It was easier for her to lean close to Pacey; she was prepared for the physical closeness. But when he did that, just out of the blue, she found herself without air. She was scared to move and have him move away yet she didn't trust herself to stay like this. God knows what she'd be tempted to do. She was buzzed with a little too much alcohol.

She turned her head a little too him and put her arm around his shoulders. "Oh, poor baby needs his alcohol. Haven't you had enough for tonight?" He is so close to me. One little twist of my head, I'd be close enough to kiss him...

She could barely hide her disappointment when he sat up and said, "No way! Come on, Potter! It's a Friday night...well, actually a Saturday morning, but we're finally of age, we're no longer being carded at bars and...and...whoa... I'm buzzed. But... but..." He stood up and tried to shake himself awake. "I am wide awake and ready to get plastered!"

"Pacey, the last time you got plastered, you fought with people at the bar!" Joey remarked.

"Oh, but that was because I was depressed. Sad. Lonely. Heartbroken." Joey flinched, remembering how that girl Christine got caught cheating on Pacey. "But tonight? I'm pumped. I'm the bomb." He lowered his voice and stared straight at Joey. "I'm feeling pretty good. Like I've shared a part of me that's been bottled up inside. I just need to enjoy it. To savor it. I can't go home and sleep knowing that I did something totally different today. You get what I'm saying?"

Joey could only nod. She's not sure if she heard everything he had just said. It's just kind of hard to concentrate when Pacey looks at you straight in the eye. He's rarely so serious and he's rarely so elated. She nodded again and choked out a reply, "Sure, Pacey, let's hit the town. Whatever you want. I got the poetry reading, next on the agenda is your call."

He stood up, placed a few bills on the table. "OK, now down your drink, my friend!" They laughed, clinked glasses and gulped down their drinks. " He helped her into her coat and walked out the bar.

Alcohol Brings Out the Uninhibited

Stumbling drunkenly down the sidewalk were Pacey and Joey singing, "If you leave, don't leave me now, please don't take my heart away..." ["If You Leave", OMD, "Pretty in Pink" OST]

"Potter, how many times have I told you never to challenge me to an 80s movies drinking game. I am the ultimate John Hughes fan. You're into those hoity-toity film noir things. You are not in touch with pop culture." Pacey said, dancing and sashaying down the street.

Joey ran up to him and stumbled into his arms, "I'm not hoity-toity. I am cultured." She unexpectedly halted and slumped onto his body. "I think I'm buzzed. Are we in the right direction?"

"Josephine Potter is a wino! Josephine Potter is a wino!" he chanted. He put his arm around her and said, "Just lean on me. There ya go, one foot in front of the other."

Plodding their way through in their drunken state, Joey just let herself be practically carried all the way to her dorm room. She leaned her head on the door as she rummaged through her purse for her keys. Pacey watched her distractedly, his eyes beginning to close.

"Uhm... Pacey? I've got a bit of a problem here. I can't find my keys..." Joey said in a panic-stricken whisper. "I must've dropped them...or maybe I left them inside...or...or...or ####."

Pacey gently smacks Joey's head. "Little Miss Obsessive-Compulsive left her keys inside her dorm room. That's not a problem. You can go crash in my dorm room. I'm a little too tired to go traipsing around town looking for your keys or for the janitor to open up your room."

Joey snaps, "Fine! I can go look for the janitor myself. Not a problem." She turns around and tries to walk but finds her world spinning. "Oh ####. Oh ####..."

Pacey grabs her by the collar. "Stop trying to be so macho. I'm the one with the balls here, not you. You are not in any condition to wander these corridors. You might end up banging on every single door, wreaking havoc upon your loser life. Now, we will plod our way through this battlefield and into my room where upon you will crash onto my bed. Understood?"

Joey nods her head slowly and mumbles a "Yes, Massa."

[In Pacey's room.]

"Here's a shirt and a pair of boxers. Trust me, they're clean. I did the laundry last Thursday, remember?" Pacey said, handing her the clothes. They're both stumbling around in the dark, afraid to be blinded by the lights. "You go change in the bathroom. I'll change in here."

Mumbling a thank you, Joey made her way to the bathroom. Ugh, this is what I hate about going out. You reek of cigarettes, your mouth feels like it's full of cotton... She changes into Pacey's clothes and enjoys the smell of him. A subtle manly scent mixed with soap. I love the smell of soap on a man. Yes, that's what Pacey has become. A gorgeous man with so many facets to him. Like a diamond in the rough...

She opens the door to find Pacey in the middle of removing his clothes. The light from the street streamed into the room, illuminating a tall, muscular Pacey clad in boxers, walking around and throwing things onto the floor. She heard herself gasp. [Author's note: Hell, I'd do more than gasp...] She closed the door but indulged herself to peek. He is most beautiful when he thinks no one is looking.

She coughs a little loudly and opens the door. "Thanks for the shirt. I'm just glad it doesn't reek of your stench."

Pacey laughs a bit. He throws a blanket her way. "Take the bed. I'll sleep on the floor."

She begins to object. "Pacey, it's going to be cold on the floor! Stay beside me on the bed. I promise not to..." She stammers and tries to figure out what she's promising not to do exactly. In the dark, she feels herself reddening.

"Nope. I'll take the floor. You can have the bed with the ratty blanket." He walks over to her and moves closer. She begins to hyperventilate and crosses her elbows on her chest. "Good night, Potter." He leans over and kisses her on the forehead.

Her world is spinning and she's trying to analyze whether it's the alcohol or the closeness of Pacey here in the dark. She moves towards the bed and lays down. Unfortunately, her world spun faster and all she could see was black. Drifting off to sleep, she mumbles, "Pacey, if you weren't my friend, I'd wish you were my boyfriend."

Pacey grunts a reply, "Go to sleep, Potter."

"Ohmigod...Somebody get the jackhammer off my head," Joey groaned. She rolls over on the bed, wrapping herself in the blanket when she sits up, startled. Where am I? Oh God, this is so embarrassing. Pacey's on the floor... She collapses on the bed, hiding underneath the covers when she remembered what she said the night before: "If you weren't my friend, I'd want you for a boyfriend."

If he only knew how true that was...

She quietly crept out of bed and snuck her way to the bathroom. There could have been elephants doing cartwheels in there for all the noise she made; Pacey slept right through it. After changing her clothes, she knelt beside Pacey who had fallen asleep on his beanbag, wrapped tightly in his blanket. She watched his chest move up and down. His mouth was slightly open. Like a little angel. Angel? More of like devil in disguise She leans over and kisses his cheek and whispers, "Thanks, Pacey."

She walks out of the room and quietly closes the door behind her. She leans against the door and lets out a long sigh. She smiles to herself. She had a great time last night. She always does when she's with Pacey but last night was special. She was witness to Pacey's soul, through those words. Whether they were for her or for some tramp down the street, the fact that Pacey could write such things...

"She was both sanity and daydreams, both nomad and Rock of Gibraltar," she mumbled to herself.

"So, you come here often?" a voice said.

Startled, Joey dropped her purse and her coat. She looked up. "Oh. Hi. Uh. Bryan, right? This is not..."

"Yeah, Joey. We met at that Latin bar last night." He extended his hand for a handshake. "So, again, you come here often?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." He looked at her quizzically. Then she hurriedly said, "This is Pacey's room. Good friend of mine. I kinda locked myself out of my dorm room so he let me crash here. As we speak, he's snoring on the floor, dreaming of Playboy centerfolds feeding him grapes." She looked up at the long dark hair and dark lashes. She looked down at his shoes. You can tell a lot about a man with the shoes he wears. And he's wearing black boots. Straightforward. Hardy. Practical.

He laughs a little bit. Then he stares long and hard at her, as if he were looking at a painting. "So, it's 9AM and you haven't had breakfast. Wanna grab a bite?" he said.

"Uh, sure," she replied. He seems pretty interesting. And interested. What the hell, if Pacey won't look at me the way Bryan does, I might as well... "If you don't mind, I'd like to have a hot shower first. I'll meet you at the lobby in fifteen?"

He cocks his head to one side and stares long at her. "Sure." He turns and walks away. Then stops. He turns around to look at her and smiles.

Joey looks at him and smiles back. Then looks at her shoes. Just when I thought things were predictable.

[Bryan and Joey having breakfast.]

"...and I couldn't help but stare. It was such a powerful painting. The strokes were bold and rough. The shadowing on her face was just as angry. But when you looked at her eyes, you could see the details, the lightness of each stroke, the effort taken to bring out the sadness," Joey said.

Bryan and her had decided to go to a small breakfast cafe down the corner of the dorm, enjoying the morning sunshine and the hot coffee.

"I know what you mean. That's the beauty of art. It stares and stares at you, forcing you to read it. You try to look behind the technique and try to feel what the artist was feeling. You could feel the love or anger the artist felt with each stroke," he replied. He reached over for a bagel, brushing her hand.

"I always thought that art had to be learned. I thought I needed to understand all those techniques and styles to appreciate what I saw.
I learned them all: Da Vinci, Klimt, and Picasso. Then one day, while I was trying to work on a new painting, my teacher looked over my shoulder and said, 'Joey, this is good. But I wonder if you realize that your painting looks like a Monet.'

I replied that I loved his style and wanted to emulate it. He shook his head and told me, 'It's not the style or technique that counts. It's who found his own style, used it first and made it his signature. If you want to go out there and be known, you've gotta find your own signature.' He then gave me this series of comic books. 'Look at the cover, Joey. That's his style. You'll find this emulated everywhere but everyone will say, 'Hey, that's such a Dave McKean look!' Find your own look.'

Bryan nodded his head approvingly. "Art is personal. Speaking of art, there's an art fest somewhere downtown tonight. You want to come with me? I've got invites but no one to join me. Then we can grab a bite and a drink afterwards. You up to it?"

Joey smiled and began to twist her hair. She had to study tonight; finals were coming up soon and she needed to get her grades up. Art fest with cute boy or dusty books alone? Art fest with cute boy or boring art history texts? Art fest with cute boy or art fest with cute boy?

"Sure. I'll come with you. Besides, it's a Saturday night. I haven't been to an art fest in ages."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Thank you for coming here tonight. We hope that you enjoyed yourselves..." the emcee droned. In one corner, Bryan and Joey were discussing the paintings and sculptures.

"Thanks for bringing me here, Bryan. This was a great show. The dancing early on the evening---amazing! It's so great to see a little bit of Asian ethnic culture. Did you see those costumes on those Filipino dancers? And the way they seemed to fly over those clapping bamboo poles? Amazing!" She stopped herself when she found Bryan staring at her. "What?"

"Nothing." He smiled. "You just look really cute when you start getting excited. Your hands fly everywhere, your eyes get so big and... nothing. You just look really cute, that's all." He continued to stare at her long and hard.

The only thing Joey could do was mumble a feeble "thanks."

"You wanna get out of here? There's a great band playing at Aperitivo tonight. Think bongo drums, zithers and tambourines. Feel like dancing?" he said.

Joey smiled, relieved that he had changed the topic and stopped staring at her. Uncomfortable at being scrutinized under his deep stare, Joey just wished more people could surround them. She let him hold her hand and lead her out the gallery and onto the street. I've always complained that my life was boring. Why not do something about it, right?

"Isn't this great?" Bryan shouted down her ear.

"What?" she shouted right back.

The crowd was jumping, sashaying and shaking. The band was an authentic Latin group, belting out one salsa song after another. From the hypnotic African beats to the Jamaican reggae, Bryan and Joey danced and drank, danced and drank. They were laughing and spinning each other around.

"I said..." Bryan started, leaning close to Joey's ear. Joey was about to lean closer to listen to him when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around.

"Pacey! Hey!" She jumped over and hugged him, shouting down his ear, "Thanks for letting me crash last night!"

He pulled away and roughed up her hair. "Not a problem. I love this band. Hey, who're you with?" He looked around.

"I'm with Bryan. Remember? From the bar last night?"

Bryan walked over and shook Pacey's hand. "Hey, man."

"Hey, Bryan. Pacey Witter."

"Yeah, I know. Joey," he said, looking at her, "told me she crashed at your place. Must have been one rough night, huh?" He laughed and winked at Joey. Both laughed, recalling Joey's animated relaying of last night's events.

Pacey gave a hard smile at Bryan. "Yup, it was. This little girl over here is one party girl. Couldn't keep her from downing those tequila shots." He looks at Joey. "I'm gonna grab myself a drink, OK? I'm with the boys over there, " he says, pointing to the back end of the bar "if you want to join us." He looks at Bryan, "I'll see you later, man."

The night wore on. The dancing continued. The heat was unbelievable. People continued to stream into the little bar, dancing and singing to "Feeling Hot! Hot! Hot!", "Stir It Up" and "Volare!" When she'd get too tired, Joey would stare at the people on the dance floor, grinding to the pulsating beat. It was all so sexy and so raw. No wonder Asians and Latinos tease us white people. We really can't dance like that... she thought in admiration.

She felt an arm around her waist. Just as she was about to turn around and slug him, it was Bryan. He began to sway side to side, moving along with the rhythm. She smiled and leaned against him, swinging her hips side to side, raising her arms to the air. She closed her eyes and let the beat envelop her.

She could feel this undeniable attraction and desire for Bryan. He was raw, passionate and real. Rocking behind her, moving together to the beat, she could feel being in synch with him. They say that there is a natural connection between two people if they can dance together. That’s what she felt. A natural connection. A comfortable, "I feel like I know this guy" feeling.

She opened her eyes when the song was over. To her dismay, Pacey was looking at her between shots of tequila. Please don't tell me he's going to get plastered again.

"I'm gonna go to the john for a bit. You'll be OK alone?" Bryan said. She nodded and signaled for him to go run along. She lit a cigarette. She hated standing alone in clubs or bars. She felt that people were looking at her as if she was waiting to be noticed or picked up. Smoking a cigarette made them keep her distance. Well, until last night when I couldn't find my lighter...

She saw Pacey walking towards her, a determined look on his face. It softened as soon as she made eye contact with him. He patted her head and asked, "So, you OK? You're alright?"

She nodded happily, a smile on her face. "This is a great place. And this band is great!"

"You bet they are. Hey, I'm headed home. The boys have a car and I'd rather ride with them than try to walk home in this condition. You'll be OK going home or do you want me to wait here for you?"

"I'll be fine, Pacey. I'm with Bryan, I'll be fine."

He looked over her shoulder with a stern face. Then he looked down at her again. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Pacey! I'm a big girl, don't worry about me. I'm beginning to feel like your child, than your friend," she replied, slightly exasperated and peeved with his over-protectiveness.

"OK, fine. But you promise to call me as soon as you get home. And that you'll call me if he's too drunk to drive." He shook his head. "I'm not making sense. Scenario 1: If he's too drunk to drive, call me and I'll come and get you. Scenario 2: However you get home, you call me. I don't care if it's 6 in the morning. You call me. I'll kill you if you don't call me!"

"Yes, yes, yes!" she said, laughingly. "You're beginning to sound like a broken record."

He leaned closer, placing her forehead on hers. "I repeat. You call me. Promise?"

Joey began to breathe hard. She stared right back at his eyes. She knew that he wasn't going to let up if he didn't elicit a promise from her. The tension between the two of them was so thick. At least, that's what she thought. There they were standing in a crowded bar, forehead to forehead.

She whispered with a giggle, "If you don't stop repeating yourself, I'm just going to have to kiss you to shut up."

He pauses between breaths to stare at her. "I repeat, Potter: You call me. Promise?"

For what seemed like a million seconds, Joey could only stare right back. He said it again. Just when she told him that she'd kiss if he repeated himself. Just as she was about to lean even closer, she felt someone's hand on her shoulder.

She pulls away and looks at him. "I'll call you as soon as I get in."

He smiles down at her, pats her on the head. He looks at Bryan and says, "Hey, man. I'm outta here. Drive safely." He holds his hand a little longer and nods his head towards Joey. Then he turns around and walks away.

"Thanks for a great evening, Bryan. I had a great time. From breakfast to the art fest till the salsa dancing..." Joey said, smiling up at him.

They did have a good time. After Pacey left, Joey was left wondering whether she should have been bold enough as to kiss him. She did threaten to do so if he didn't stop repeating himself. And he did, damn it!

"So did I, Joey. I haven't had this much in a long time. I can't believe I didn't meet you earlier." After a pregnant pause, he says, "Can I see you again?" Again, he stared straight at her, boldly. It was like he'd be able to tell the truth only if he could look at her eyes.

Suddenly, her shoes looked very interesting as she mumbled a "yes." She looked up in time to see Bryan leaning forward, moving as if to kiss her. Horrified, she leaned to one side so that his lips would graze her cheek.

"Oh." He said. He smiled at her. "I'm sorry. I'll call you. We'll go to a music or dance festival, OK? I had a great time." This time, he offered his cheek, an obvious recoup of the faux pas.

"Thanks again, Bryan. I look forward to it." She turned around and entered her room. She leaned against the door and sank to the floor, blissfully happy. She did have a great time. She felt that she connected with someone. Being in this university for almost four years and it's only now that she finds someone as passionate as she is about art, music and dance.

She runs to the phone. She looks at her watch. Ohmigod, it's already 3am! I hope he doesn't throw a #### fit...

"Uh...hello? Pacey? It's me, Joey." He had answered at the first ring.

"Great. I'm glad you're home. Go to sleep," he grunts.

"Good night, Pacey."

"Good night, Potter. I'll call you tomorrow. Let's have lunch or something."

Then the click of the phone. Boy, did she feel stupid now. Then she smiled to herself. It felt great knowing that he was waiting by the phone for her phone call.

Damn hell, I should have kissed him...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Oh, Pacey, Bryan's great! We had a lot of fun. Talked about art, music, and dance. It was fun. I feel like I've finally connected with someone here," Joey said between bites of her sandwich. It was Sunday afternoon and they were at the coffee shop. After downing cups of coffee this morning then hitting the books, Pacey was a welcome intrusion.

"That's great. So, this Bryan guy...he's cool?" he mumbled through his burger.

"Oh, he's cool." She looked up. "Wait a minute. What are you trying to ask?"

"Nothing, nothing. Just wanted to make sure he was cool. So, is your social diary gonna be full now?" he teased, throwing a fry at her.

"Oh, so full! I'm not gonna have time to hang out with you, loser," she teased right back. "In fact, you'll have to start calling my secretary to make an appointment. Like, three months in advance!"

Pacey proceeds to pretend to choke, stabbing himself in the heart with a fork and collapsing on the table. "You heartbreaker! You're gonna leave me all alone, to my own devices on the last few weeks of prison? I mean, this esteemed establishment called college?"

Joey smiled at him. She was just so grateful to have a friend like Pacey, a friend from a place so far from here who would remind her of who she really was. If she had come here alone, she would have been too tempted to try and reinvent herself, create a "Joey" that never existed. His presence kept her grounded.

Looking at him with his disheveled hair and loud Hawaiian shirt, she just had to feel...at home. Relieved. Comfortable. Yet, the beauty of Pacey Witter was that he was more than the childhood chum or the class clown. Beyond those titles people give each other is a myriad of qualities that she's only beginning to discover. So she stared at him, cupping her chin with her hand, watching his soft lips move, closing and opening, closing and opening.

"Uhm, Joey? What the hell are you doing?!" he asked.

Oh God, he caught me staring. I need more coffee. And more cigarettes. Oh, God, somebody give me an anxiety-attack pill...

"Sorry, sorry, I'm turning into a space cadet. What were you saying?" she asked, trying valiantly to pull herself together.

"I said, you wanna hang out with the guys tonight? We're having a mafia movies marathon at Mike's."

She groaned. "Oh God, when will you guys realize that those films are for..."

"What are you talking about? What about you and your French films? They all sound like..."

And again, the couple we love, have their usual verbal sparring, exercising words that not even a Harvard graduate would use during his thesis dissertation...

Joey looked from her computer to her phone. Those were great days. Those were good times... she thought to herself. She stared at the picture of Pacey on her desk and again, thought of all the good and bad times they shared (and endured), all those experiences they had. Like a photo album in her head, she was flipping through the pages of their life together.

She reaches for the phone...

~~~~~~~~~~
"Hello, Joey? Pacey here. You coming over to Mike's or what? It's Mafia-Movies Night, yeah!" Pacey yelled over the phone. Joey could hear Aerosmith blaring in the background.

"Nah. I'll pass for tonight. Still gotta study remember?" Joey replied. "Besides, you know how I feel about mafia movies..."

"You love them, Joey. Deep in your heart you've been fantasizing of being this mafia wife or mistress, clad in fur coats and followed around by bodyguards in Armani suits... Come on! It'll be fun."

"Sorry, Witter. Rain check on this one. Talk to you later?"

"Yeah, yeah, Little Miss Social Butterfly. Call you tomorrow."

Click.

She turned to her books when the phone rang again.

"Pacey, I'm not watching some lame mafia movie..."

"Uhm. No, this Bryan."

A very pregnant pause. A twitching of the phone here and there.

"Oh. Hi. What's up?" Joey fiddled with the cord and began to rock back and forth. Last night was awkward and she didn't want a repeat session but she couldn't find it in herself to be all cheerful either.

"Nothing much. I was just thinking...you must be stressed from all that studying you've been doing or meaning to do and you might want to take a break?"

She could hear him breathing on the other side of the phone. She looked at her watch. 8:00PM I've been studying all afternoon. OK, fine, I wasn't really when I was at the coffee house with Pacey, but...I'll make up for it tonight.

"Sure sounds like a good idea. I'll meet you at the lobby in twenty?"
-----------------

"So, Joey Potter, I'll have to ask the ultimate cliché date question: what do you want to do after you graduate?" Bryan asked. Again, he reaches over to get a fry from Joey's plate, brushing his fingers with hers.

"Oh, that's an easy one. To travel," she replied. "I want to see Greece, Egypt, Turkey, Italy...Oh, and Spain."

"Really? All the way out there? As for myself, I want to see the whole country first. But not just the major tourist spots. I want to work in vineyard in Napa Valley. Or be a lumberjack in Montana. Or be a waiter in San Francisco's Haight-Ashbury district. Or...better yet, be a fisherman in Provincetown or in Maine... I want to travel, but I want to know the life, you know?" He lights a cigarette then looks up at her. "To grab life by the balls, squeeze it till it screams 'Uncle!'"

Joey laughed aloud. "Now that's a pretty analogy."

She's enjoying every moment with him. He's funny, smart, charming. Confident, together, complete. Yet, he's also hungry for life, he knows his own limits. He knows what he wants and needs in life. Joey's never met a man like this before, a man whose passions bring out the same fervor in herself.

"What are you thinking of? Right now, just spill it out," Bryan said, almost in a whisper.

Joey looked at her plate and took a deep breath. Take the bull by the horns, take the bull by the horns... "I was just thinking of how much I enjoy your company. How we've become so in tune with each other. And how your passion for life and what it has to offer---makes me want to be just as passionate."

He smiled at her and reached over to hold her hand. Then he began to stroke her cheek. "I'm glad. I'm glad that I can make you feel that way. Will it make you feel less embarrassed if I confess that I haven't felt this passionate in years? Only when I lit your cigarette and you snapped at me about the mundane pick up line I used on you?"

Joey leaned into his hand and let him stroke his cheek. He leans over closer to her, placing his soft lips on hers. And ever so gently, he pulls on her mouth, taking his lips into his.

He pulled away and sighed, a smile on his face. "If I were Orpheus, Joey, you'd be my Eurydice. Just don't die on me just yet."

Since that evening in the coffee house, Joey couldn't stop thinking of Bryan. For once, a man in her life who kept her from thinking of Pacey. There. She finally admitted it to herself. She's been thinking of Pacey as a man she'd like to have in her life but she couldn't find it in herself to risk his friendship.

What am I supposed to say? Oh, by the way, Pacey, I've been in love with you these last few years, you know, like I check you out all the time and see that you've blossomed into this really hot guy... Oh, by the way, Pacey, I love you...more than a friend. Joey just rolled her eyes at the thought. She can just imagine Pacey's reaction. And she knew she wouldn't be able to handle the rejection and the possible loss of friendship. Maybe she can forget that Pacey wouldn't want her as a romantic partner but she wouldn't be able to stand watching him pull away from her. Or act all awkward, scared to give her the wrong signals.

But now that Bryan is in her life, she feels like she's been given a second chance at love. She feels that she's finally gotten over the feeling of being sixteen and totally hopeless about finding love again. And she's found it. Or at least she thinks she has.

Needless to say, Joey has found passion in life again---in Bryan. It's like when I look at him, I see this old soul that has traveled many worlds and has seen so many things, yet is still hungry for more. I see a tortured man who is trying to find meaning and contentment yet is afraid to find it and become complacent. There's an ancient soul in him that seeks renewed life, over and over again, as if seeking redemption.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Cheryl Paterson...Jason Philips...Josephine Potter..."

She couldn't think of a time she was happier than walking on stage to receive her diploma. It's over. College is finally over! Seeking freedom and escape in college was her primary goal but as the years went by, she realized that she now wants more out of life. She has equipped herself with the means to make a name for herself. And to make the dream come alive again. I'm going to go out into the real world and let them know me: Joey Potter.

She ran down the stairs and out into the quad to meet with the rest of her friends (and to sneak a smoke ) when she ran straight into Pacey.

"Hey, girl! We did it, we f*****g did it! Yahoo!" he yelled, throwing a fist into the air. From behind him, he handed her a red rose. "Congratulations, Potter. You are now a college graduate!"

She jumped at him, hugging him tightly. "Oh, thanks so much, Pacey. Ohmigod, I'm so happy, I swear to God!" She pulls out a cigarette and takes a deep drag, handing it over to Pacey. "Damn, that ceremony was long. And it isn't over yet, doggone it." She looks up at him as she takes a whiff of the rose. He's so sweet, I swear. I can't believe I didn't get him anything for graduating.

"I know. Well, let's get a few pictures taken with the gang then head back inside. Don't forget, Big Mike's treating us to a few rounds of brewskis after the whole family dinner bit. You still having dinner with Bessie and Bodie right?"

She nodded. "And you? Your folks in town?"

"Nah. They'll be here tomorrow. Deputy Doug and Sheriff Witter had stuff to do," he replied, avoiding her eyes. "I'll be having dinner with the other fools whose parents couldn't make it. I'll meet you at the Aperitivo, OK?" He kisses her on the cheek and runs off to the other guys, yelling and jumping.

Joey walked back inside and took her seat, enduring the droning voice of the dean announcing the other graduating students from the other departments. She looked over her shoulder, straining her neck looking for Bryan. He spots her and gives a wave. He signals to her as if he wanted to talk to her. She nods and puts her hand to her ear, meaning "call me."

This town is going to have a lot of happy and very drunk fresh college graduates!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Potter, I don't know if you realize this, but Big Mike graduated with honors!" Pacey announced.

"You've got to be kidding me! Big Mike? Are you pulling my leg here?" Joey said incredulously. They were at Aperitivo, waiting for the band to play. "With honors. I'm impressed. You found time to study between tequila drinking contests and mafia-movie marathons?"

"Joey, Joey, Joey! Have you no faith in Big Mike? Here have another beer. You look like you need one."

This was her college life. The people in this room, people she has grown to love, could sum it up. In this group of boisterous young men, she was the only girl they considered one of them. The other girls? Just girlfriends of the guys, girlfriends who come and go. Never been linked to any of them, Joey enjoyed the stature of "one of the guys". No surprise, having had almost 18 years of experience...

She looked around happily. She was a graduate. She never thought she'd make it this far. She never thought Pacey would pull through. But they both did. They proved all those people back in Capeside that there is more to Potter and Witter that meets the eye...or the reputation.

"Hey, Pacey. I'll just go to the ladies' room. Hold onto my purse will you?"

Pacey looked around the bar. The Aperitivo is a college hang out favorite. With tonight's commencement rites, everyone's getting pretty plastered. "It's getting pretty rowdy in here. You want me to walk you over? I'll wait outside, that's cool."

Joey looked around. Guys in the corner were crushing beer cans on their foreheads. Another group was smoking what did not look like regular Marlboro cigarettes. People were streaming in packing the place. And there seemed to be a great disparity between the number of men and women.

"That'd be good. I'm glad you're a paranoiac."

On her way out of the bathroom, Pacey handed over her purse. "Damn, Joey, I gotta go myself. Will you make it back OK on your own? Avoid those guys sitting by the bar, OK? They've been hooting and whistling at every girl that passed by. Even the one that looked like Janet Reno!"

"I'll be OK, Pace. Big Mike's nearby and with one holler, you'll know the boys will come to my rescue."

She turns to walk back towards their table when Bryan and his friends walked in. He had changed into this black suit, his long hair tied into a low ponytail. Smoking a cigar and sashaying into the room, he looked like a gangster straight out of the fifties. Joey's mouth fell open. He broke into a smile when he saw her. He walked straight towards her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Joey caught the knowing looks his friends exchanged. She didn't have time to analyze it for Bryan had already grabbed her hand, forcing her to look at him.

"Congratulations, Joey Potter."

"Congratulations, Bryan Hayward."

"So, have you come here to do some pretty serious celebrating tonight, considering this might be one of the last evenings you'll be spending here at the Aperitivo?"

"Well, since you met me all we've been doing is celebrating. What exactly, I don't know. But this afternoon's "Pomp and Circumstance" themed graduation rites sure gives us a really good excuse, don't you think?"

At this point, Pacey had walked out of the bathroom. He exchanged a quick congratulations with Bryan and walked over to their table. Joey saw that as soon as he got to their table, he downed his beer and reached for another one. He kept his back towards her.

"Hey, the band's starting. Let's hit the dance floor."

That night was nothing she has ever experienced before. She could feel everyone's energy. The vibe was so good, so happy...and so exhilarating. Exchanging hugs and kisses with everyone she bumped into, people whose faces she recognized from campus but never got to know. Bryan and her danced, held hands and kissed all night long.

"I wish I met you earlier. I will, for the rest of my life, regret not talking to you when I first saw you in Art History class," he whispered down her ear.

"You were in that class? How come..." she sputtered.

"You sat in front, I sat at the back. I just watched you all semester last year."

Joey flushed. She'd never known what it's like to be the object of one's affections, especially in this so bold a manner. "I wish I knew. We only have a few weeks together in this school, getting our transcripts and clearances. I'll probably never see you again, huh?"

"Like you said, we've got a few weeks. Let's make the best of it."

"That sounds like a good idea. Don't disappear on me just yet."

It was close to 4am, and the party didn't seem like it was going to mellow down anytime soon. Joey stood beside Pacey, who at this time, is drunk.

"So, Joey, you and Bryan seem to be getting it on tonight," he slurred at her, putting his arm around her shoulders.

"It's nothing like that, Pacey. We really get along. It's like...he's this guy I feel like I've known all my life. He knows all my dreams and fears, my hopes and expectations. It's uncanny, really. It's a great feeling to connect with someone the way Bryan and I do."

"Good for you, Potter," he said curtly. His face softened as he leaned over to kiss her on the forehead. "I've got to get my body home on my bed before I pass out here. Big Mike here has been ordering those damn gin tonics like there was going to be a shortage tomorrow. I'm so buzzed."

"You'll get home OK? Bryan offered to take me home." Joey stroked his hair out of his face and pinched his cheek. "You drunken bastard. Turning 21 was the worst thing that happened to your liver."

He placed his forehead on her forehead, looking straight into her eyes. "He's taking you home?"

She nodded. "Yes, he is."

"You'll call me when you get home. I'll know if something happens to you. I'll die if you get into a car accident or...or...into a compromising situation. You'll call me. I don't care what time. You'll call me."

"I'll be fine."

"Joey, you're not listening to me. You have to promise me that you'll call me as soon as you get home."

Joey took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Do I have to kiss you to shut up?"

"I'll die if anything happens to you. Promise me that you'll call me. I don't care what time. You'll call me."

Joey closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath. Those few seconds she spent with her eyes closed were the longest few seconds of her life. She can risk it. She can just move one more inch and her lips would find his. She could lean over and say, "Damn it all to hell!" and plant her whole heart and soul into kissing him. Her heart in her throat, blood rushing to her head and feeling like the earth was going to shatter with the explosion ready to burst inside of her, she pulls away.

"I promise to call you. As soon as I get home. No matter what time."

Behind her, she could feel Bryan's hand pulling on hers. She could hear him say, "Let's dance, Joey."

There are men and there are men. They play different roles in people's lives. Some of them become your father--stern yet tender, commanding yet gentle. To others, they play the role of hero and protector. I must be the only woman in the whole wide world whose man in life plays the role of muse.

He gave me renewed passion for life. He gave me wings. It's like that quote "Each of us has one wing and we can only fly by embracing each other."

Joey was in her room, waiting out the last few weeks before the university sees it fit to kick out the new batch of graduates it has churned out into the world. In the meantime, between candlelit dinners Bryan cooked, attending art festivals and watching off-Broadway type shows, she has found it in herself to paint again. She has found true inspiration to release what she feels has been bottled up inside. When she could find neither color nor music in her life, Bryan would talk to her of insanities, galaxies beyond their imagination and watching autumn leaves falling onto the ground. She would find herself, in the few moments that she was alone, sketching her thoughts and fears. Burst after burst of creativity.

He was like this little deity on my shoulder who would nonchalantly whisper about the new colors that I can see and the new music I can dance to.

"There. It's done," she said aloud, as if trying to concretize what she has achieved. She has found her signature. Her "look". Just as she was savoring the moment, her phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Joey. It's me, Bryan."

"Oh, hi. I was just thinking about you. So, are we still on for tonight? I'm really excited to go to Aperitivo tonight..." she said, sitting on her dresser, looking at her happy, smiling face in the mirror.

"That's what I called about. I can't make it tonight. Got something to do with the boys. You know how they are."

Boy, do I know how they are. She wish she could sense resentment from Bryan's friends; at least that would show that they don't like him spending way too much time with her. Instead, in her paranoiac state, she thought she sensed...amusement.

"Well, that's cool with me. But I'd like to see you tomorrow. We do just have a few weeks left together and I'd really like to talk to you. You know...about the future."

She heard him sigh over the phone. "I thought we've been through this before, Joey. About our desire to just live for the moment, for the now, day by day. That conversations about the future are futile because they set expectations and hopes. That making promises and commitments just..."

"...lead to hurt and resentment," she finished for him. "Yeah, I heard the speech before, Bryan."

"Don't be angry, Joey. We both knew that this was coming...that I was going to leave, that you were going to leave."

Unfortunately, she felt that he was right. She had no ties to him; he had no obligations to her. They had agreed that night after graduation that they would continue to hang out together, enjoy what little time was given to them and not worry about the future or about how things would end. But how could she not worry about how things would end? She had fallen hopelessly in love with him...with a man who had the power to make her paint like she has never had before. She had fallen hopelessly in love with a man who could not even utter the words "tomorrow" without cringing.

"Joey, I'll see you. Bye."

That was the most echoing click she had ever heard in her life. She put the phone down and turned towards the painting. She wanted to throw a pot of paint onto it. Instead, she collapsed onto her bed and wept.

-----------------

She woke up the next day with a head as heavy as an anvil. Puffy eyed and dry throated, she rolled herself out of bed. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and all she wanted to do was pull out a Colt .45 and shoot every single one of them.

A knock on her door shook her awake. Stumbling towards the door, she opened it to find Pacey outside, two coffees and bagels in hand.

"Holy ####, you sure look like you need coffee..." Pacey said, sauntering into her dorm room. "So, what have you got planned...have you been crying?" he said, almost shouting.

"Yes, I need coffee. No, I've got nothing planned for today. And yes, I have been but don't bloody ask why. I don't need the KGB interrogation right now, Pacey. Just hand me my coffee and a bagel."

He opened his mouth to speak. He closed his mouth not to speak. He handed over her coffee and opened his.

"Alrightie then. First things first. We've got two weeks in this hellhole before we depart for wherever we have to depart to. We haven't gotten any place to stay just yet. I'm dreading having to be forced to go back to Capeside so I'm thinking of bunking with Big Mike. But if you've got nowhere to go, I'll hang with you." He took a gulp of his coffee, screamed when it burnt his tongue. Then he said, with his tongue hanging out as he tried to fan it, "We can be homeless together, whatcha say?"

Joey could only nod. She was thinking of that. Two more weeks. A few months ago, it would have been a no-brainer. Get the transcripts, go back home to Capeside, send out resumes via the Internet then try to get a job. Now? She didn't know. She wanted to risk staying with Bryan, wherever that would be. He had itchy feet. He would want to go around gallivanting the world. She thought she was willing to do that with him. But now...

"OK. I think you need thinking time alone. I'll be in my room, packing my stuff. I gotta get started since my CD collection has gotten pretty extensive. Gotta keep Big Mike's dirty hands away from them. I'll talk to you later." He stood up, gave her head a pat and walked out the door, locking it behind him.

Four hours later, still in her pajamas, Joey was staring at the painting she had painted for Bryan, because of Bryan. She couldn't bear to think of it as an inspired work with all that bull#### that he gave her.

Why can't he just say it? That he's f*****g afraid to feel what he feels for me...

A knock on her door disturbed her reverie.

She threw a pillow at it. "I don't want to talk to anyone, Pacey! Go away! I'll call you later."

"It's Bryan."

She gasped. She ran to her mirror, ran a hand through her tangled hair. She looked at herself. She was...horrendous.

What the hell. He's seen me naked; he's seen me in his shorts and shirts. He's seen me first thing in the morning with drool.

"Just a minute."

He walked into the room, a calm face plastered on.

"Joey. You wanted to talk?"

"Yes." She began to pace around the room, wringing the end of her shirt around her hands. "Bryan. I love you. At least I think I do. You've been my inspiration, the light in my bleak existence. It's like I was this dull gray wall and you came over and... and...and I've become this colorful mural. I thought I played the same role in your life. I thought that I mattered enough to make you think of what we can be after these next two weeks. Instead, you give me the old 'don't talk about the future' speech. Don't give me that ####!" she yelled, her voice reaching a wild, raw pitch. "Am I just another painting you stared at? Am I just another experience for you to remember and reminisce about?"

She sat on her bed and looked away from him. She felt him move closer to her, sitting across from her, reaching for her hand.

"Joey. Joey. Look at me."

Looking straight into the brown eyes she has come to love brought tears to her eyes. "Joey. You are not just going to be another memory. I will feel this strange connection with you for the rest of my life. I will look back and think to myself that being with you was one of the most beautiful experiences ever. But I know myself. I cannot help but look at you and NOT see that far ahead. I don't live that way. I don't like to think of the distant future, create a picture of it in my head and then...live not to have it work out the way I saw it here," he said, pointing to his head then to his heart. "I do love you, Joey, even though I never said it to you before. I do love you. But not the way you want me to. Not the way you envisioned it to be."

She began to cry with understanding. Yet she could not help feel betrayed and suddenly without an anchor. She had depended on him to define what life should be; he was her passion, her unbridled, irrational passion. How could she think of painting beauty when the one beautiful thing in her life did not want anything to do with her?

"Just leave, Bryan. Just leave me with what little dignity I have. But just so you'll know how you affected me, look at that painting. I found it. I found my signature. My look. And it was all for nothing. All because you couldn't find it in yourself to face the future and what may become of it."

She pulled away from his touch and stood by the window, her back to him. "Would you please leave?"

He stood up, sighing. "Will you at least let me say goodbye to you two weeks from now?"

"Wow. I didn't know you could see that far in the future."

He turned around and left the room, forgetting to close the door behind him.

Bastard. Too chicken #### to even give me closure.

"Mike, you don't understand. She looks like a train hit her... What? Of course, it's that Bryan S**tward's fault! She looks like she's been...yeah, yeah, crying all f***ing night long! I swear to God, I'm going to bash that guy's face in with a hockey stick, shove a puck down his throat then...I know, I know, Joey's a big girl. S**t, I knew I should've talked to him...Mike! Mike! It's not meddling in the girl's life! It's...OK, OK, I'll shut up now. I'll call you later. She's coming over..." Pacey's turned around to find a weepy looking Joey standing inside his room, her arms wrapped around herself, staring stonily at him. "Mike, I gotta go."

He purposefully walked to her and gingerly wrapped his arms around her. He whispered into her hair, "I'm so sorry, Joey. He doesn't know what he's missing. If I were your boyfriend, I would never, ever break up with you." Lightly kissing her forehead, he bent over to look at her straight in the eyes. "He's a f**king idiot for making you cry."

This just caused Joey to start crying, starting with a little whimper until she was having a full-blown sobbing fit, collapsing onto Pacey's chest. Between sobs, she was muttering, "I'm such an idiot...I pushed him away...I was so demanding...I'm so stupid...Why do the men in my life leave me? I feel like dying, somebody just kill me please!"

Pacey remained silent, just letting Joey's tears wet the front of his shirt while he rubbed her back and squeezed her hard, pulling him to his chest. When her sobs subsided, he jokingly said, "I hate seeing girls cry. I wish you were a baby. Easier to please."

Then without further ado, he lifted her off the ground into his arms and began to rock her back and forth, singing a lullaby. He collapsed onto the bed and kept her in his arms. "Now, the only thing missing is a bottle." He pretends to look around. "Oh, no, poor little Potter baby is missing her bottle!" At this point, Joey has her arms locked around Pacey's neck and is about to have a giggling fit. Pacey digs into his shirt pocket and finds a cigarette. "Baby Potter, will this do?" As she nods in assent, he shoves the cigarette in her mouth, whips out a lighter and lights it. "There ya go! Feeling better?"

Without letting go of each other, they shimmied their way across the bed towards headboard and leaned on it, Joey still in his arms.

"Joey, whatever Bryan did to make you cry like this, it couldn't have been your fault. I hate to say this, but I wish I told you earlier that the guy is a sleazoid. Mike was telling me that..."

"You talked to the boys about me and Bryan?" Joey interrupted, a quizzical look on her face.

Pacey began to stammer out an answer, citing reasons why he felt he needed to more about this "Bryan ####ward". "I'm sorry if it seemed like I was prying into your life, Jo. I just...just wanted to make sure that this guy you really liked was going to be a good man to you. God knows a girl like you needs a good man, right?"

She nodded, too tired to fight back and start yelling at Pacey for trying to be such a Mr. Fix-It. Though she felt that he was putting his face where it shouldn't be, Joey knew that it was all for a good reason. Because Pacey cared for her and worried about her, Joey could forgive him this. Besides, in the end, he was right about the chicken ####...

She pressed herself closer to him, allowing herself to be wrapped in the secure nearness of his body, as if he would be the armor she needed against the "bad men" in the world. If that girl in the poem was Pacey's Prozac, Pacey was her anchor. Most problems had a way of disappearing when she was around Pacey. No, he's not my anchor. He's more like...my willing and eager-to-please punching bag. Poor guy, always having to put up with my hysterics. He's so good to me. He's a good man, a good friend. He makes me feel...like a woman who deserves all the love and caring in the world.

She took one last drag of the cigarette and handed it to Pacey. He took a long drag himself before he turned over to kill it in the ashtray. Just as he was about to turn around, Joey began to stroke his face, resting her fingers on his cheek. She whispered, "Thank you so much, Pacey. You don't understand... without you here in this school with me, being there for me crisis after crisis...I'd...I'd..."

She pulled herself up to close the distance between her and Pacey, sinking deeper into his arms. Closing her eyes, she brushed his lips with her own, pulling slowly at first then insistently. She felt his soft lips begin to respond, his strong arms pulling her closer to his, as if he couldn't get enough of her even though she was on his lap, arms locked around his neck. She felt his hands pulling her shirt, heavily stroking her back, her shoulders.

Then he pulled away.

"We can't do this, Joey. You can't do this to me. You can't do this to us," he replied, his voice breaking as he looked at Joey with sad eyes. "You're kissing me for the wrong reasons. We're kissing each other on this bed under the wrong circumstances." Then he looked away and whispered, "Don't do this to me."

Joey, mortified, stood up and knelt on the floor beside him. She looked up at him, holding one of his hands, "Oh God, Pace, I'm so sorry! We're friends, we're such good friends that I've taken advantage...I just...I just felt so good in your arms...I'm sorry, I should've thought...I didn't realize..."

He squeezed her hands right back and said in a soft yet stern voice, "I know what you mean. I feel the same. I feel needed, wanted and you make me feel like I'm the biggest, toughest and most protective guy in the world and it feels great. But, Joey, we're friends. I know you're hurting but friends don't look for comfort in each other...in this way."

"I understand, I totally understand." She looked down, feeling ashamed of herself for thinking that their friendship would be able to handle such an intimate action, for thinking that just because Pacey has been there for her through almost everything that he would submit himself as a lackey for her lack of self- worthlessness. If Pacey weren't such a close friend but was rather some other guy she knew, someone who was just as lonely and dejected, someone who was...on the rebound. Oh God, I'm on the rebound. How the hell could I have been so stupid? Just 2 hours ago a man broke up with me and I try to get it on with my best friend?!?

"Joey? Joey. Look at me." Joey looked up to see dark blue eyes that bore straight into hers with an intensity she thought she would only see in Bryan's eyes. "I'm sorry that you're going through this pain. We'll go through this little hiccup in our friendship together. And," he said, looking straight into her eyes, with a small smile on his face, "we will always try to do things for the right reasons. Truth be told, I may act so cavalier, but in the end, I want to do the right things, for the right reasons...with the right person." He plopped down on his stomach and was nose to nose with Joey. "Now, give me an Eskimo kiss."

They both began to laugh as they got cross-eyed rubbing noses with each other. She laughed even harder when he began to tickle her, tackling her to the floor.

"There ya go. That's the Potter I know. Now, go upstairs to your room, take a long hot shower and make sure you scrub your armpits." He takes whiff and says, "..cuz, Slider...you stink!", a remark which caused Joey to start a pillow fight.

It is going to be the last two weeks the new graduates are going to be staying in the dorms. There's a sense of panic in the air, as if tomorrow, they'll wake up to a nuclear holocaust. Joey will wake up to the crying sounds of roommates next door, bawling their eyes out as they cry, "You have to promise to write me! Everyday!"

She was a little more cynical than that. She knew that half these people would probably not write a single letter or make a single phone call to their classmates. They may have gone through sorority rush together or sat beside each other as the school team won the state finals or have stayed up till 4am studying for finals while downing Vivarins but in the end...We've all got our own lives to lead.

Shaken from her reverie was a dancing shadow of a man, singing, "Ooh child, things are gonna be easier...Ooh child, things will get brighter...Someday we'll walk underneath the rays of a beautiful sun...Someday the world will be much brighter..."

"Forever the optimist and cheerful one so early in the morning, Joey?" Pacey quipped, observing the scowl on Joey's face as she sat in the school's quad, watching the people walking by. "Here," he said, "have a piece of gum to complete your goatish look."

"Thanks," she replied, grabbing the gum quite brusquely. "So, what's up for today?" She noticed that she began to stammer. After all, it's only been less than 24 hours since she and Pacey last kissed. If butterflies in my stomach feel this pukey, I will never EVER want to kiss Pacey Witter again. I hate this awkwardness between us. I feel like there's this HUGE wall between us, and he's on the other side, and I'm on the other, and...

"...so, I'm thinking, we can go to the park, have a picnic, smoke a few joints, kill a few pedestrians, flash a few people, you're obviously not listening to me," Pacey droned in the hopes that Joey will prove him wrong. "Nary a reaction to my homicidal and exhibitionist tendencies?"

"Sorry, I spaced out. As usual. What if we just hang out in the park today? Just roller blade or picnic, whatever. It's a sunny day. It'll be nice to catch a few rays before I head back to good old exciting Capeside, right?"

"That sounds like a plan. But I'm too lazy to make sandwiches and stuff. Let's just go to the coffee house, get a few goodies made and off we go?"

"That sounds great, Pacey. You do that; I'll grab the picnic gear. I've got the blanket and thermos in my room."

Under the sun, lying on her back in just a halter-top and shorts, Joey hasn't felt so relaxed in months. Granted that they had finished school almost a month before, she has spent those weeks gallivanting all over the city going to shows, festivals and clubs. She didn't mind the going out; in fact, she felt carefree and adventurous at the time. But she knows herself---after a while, you just want to sit back and relax. In silence.

"OK, Joey. Answer this one: What is so bad in believing that God exists? I mean, better to play safe right? In the end, if he does, you can always say, 'Hey, dude! I prayed to you remember?'"

Joey let out a sigh and opened one eye. Lying on her right was Pacey clad in his favorite jeans, ratty beyond repair, slung low on his waist. His shirt had become a cover for his eyes to avoid the glare of the sun. Glistening sweat began to form beads on his chest, trickling down his side and onto the blanket. Feeling kinks in his arms, he would raise them above his head and try to stretch, twisting side to side, pulling them over, rotating his wrists. Unknowingly, he was beginning to catch the eye of all the females around. Muscles rippled with each stretch. Joey could only stare for what seemed like an eternity as she tried to cough up a reply.

"Well, don't you remember what Professor O'Hara said? That Pascal's play-it-safe scheme isn't worth sh*t. That, if God is all that, if he is all that he's cracked to be, then if you had just played it safe for fear of punishment, then it's not worth sh*t. But if you were a non-believer who stuck by that, who believe 100% in his soul, then, allegedly the big man in the sky would be more appreciative of that."

"Yeah, I guess that would make sense. I'd hate it if Big Mike was just my play-along friend because he was scared that one day, if he didn't pull through for me, I'd kick his a**."

"Yes, Pacey. Now, let me tan," she said in a gruff tone.

The next few days, Pacey did not leave her alone for a minute, except, she thought, ...to use the bathroom, to shave my legs, change underwear and maybe, maybe, this week, he'll let me sleep alone in my room. I can't stand watching him lie down on the floor when he has a perfectly comfortable bed upstairs from mine! Men! They think their presence is the solution to everything!

They went to picnics and late, lazy lunches. Quiet dinners and rowdy drinking binges. Vegetating evenings with the VHS and popcorn.

Tonight was different. It may be just another warm summer evening on the rooftop, sitting on the ledge, drinking ice cold beer and talking about life, friendships and satellites. But to Joey and Pacey, it was their last night to be on a rooftop, sitting on the ledge, drinking ice-cold beer and talking about life, friendships and satellites.

She was grateful for this night, albeit so tainted with finality. The last night. She looked over at Pacey and smiled. In all honesty, without Pacey's unrelenting desire to keep Joey company, she probably would have found a window of opportunity to wallow in misery with her failed relationship with Bryan. No matter how much fun she was having with Pacey, she knew that she was still hurting.

The feelings of rejection, of not being "special enough" for him to consider a future with her, no matter how remote, wounded her deeply. It wasn't that she missed Bryan or still felt anything for him. In retrospect, she didn't really know him all that well. The only reason why she probably thought she was in love with him was because of all the special attention he devoted to her. When he wouldn't devote any more, she felt that she lacked an x-factor that men look for so that they'll stay with a woman. It was a pride thing.

She looked over at Pacey, the party hard kind of guy who could be spending the evening with the boys, living it up until they part ways. She knew Pacey was being a real sweetheart, so patient and so kind even when she'd snap at him like a crazy cat.

Today was a hellish day. Joey spent the whole day packing, making phone calls, arranging for a train and bus ticket, a cab, saying goodbye to friends and classmates, running in and out of school offices. So this quiet evening on the rooftop of the dorm, where students are not allowed felt like a really good last hurrah. They were supposed to join the other boys at Aperitivo, listen to the band one last time... and maybe, just maybe, have a beer can crushing contest with the guys in the other table. They've been staring at each other for a year anyway.

"Things flew by so fast, didn't they? It's crazy; it almost feels like yesterday when I first walked in here dressed in khakis, sneakers and carrying, of all the things, Dawson's movie. I mean, hello, talk about security blanket!" Pacey cried. He looked at her. "It also seemed like yesterday when we first walked the halls together and checked out each other's schedules. How I groaned and fussed that we didn't have a single class together on Mondays!"

"You were such a child! I mean, you were so scared that you wouldn't make new friends, that everybody would look at you and say, 'Hey, weren't you that loser Witter from Capeside?' You were such a paranoiac, I swear!" she said, laughing at the memory. "Look at us now. On a rooftop, drinking beer and wondering what tomorrow may bring. A nasty hang over, I suppose."

As they looked up to the sky, images began to flash in her mind. The first time they bumped into each other as soon as regular classes started and the first thing he said was, "I hope you're doing OK." Their first shopping trip together as he prepared for his term paper defense ("I need a tie. I need a tie.") The first time they snuck up to this rooftop to enjoy a beer, celebrating their first mid-term exams. The picnics. The coffee conversations. Their city gallivanting trips. Their drinking parties. Their movie-popcorn nights at Big Mike's. The sleepovers. The cramming, the studying, the binging. The arguments, the fights. The tears of heartache, frustration and loneliness.

The little things he did for her: changing sides as they crossed the street, carrying her bags no matter how much she protested, being there during every important event like her thesis defense or her art exhibit, calling her late at night when he knew she was studying, just to give her a break.

Then there were the really special moments. Reading that poem on "unpredictable" night. Making her promise to call him, no matter what time. Ranting to Mike about how he wanted to kill Bryan. Taking her in his arms, cradling her as he sang silly songs to make her laugh.

She turned to look at him and said, "Thank you so much, Pacey. I wouldn't have made it through college without you. From water bombs and whoopee cushions to romantic partners and drunken nights, you were there for me, weren't you?" She continued after seeing him nod. "So, call a toast."

"To always doing the right thing, for the right reason."

"Amen to that, Brother Witter. To never giving up on a friend no matter how much they claw and bite."

"And that deserves another beer, Sister Potter. To...screw this toast ####." He pops open another beer, lights a cigarette and takes a deep breath. "I swear to you this, Joey: I will always be your friend. We may be taking different paths now, going on our own roads. But I promise you this, on my grandfather's grave, I will always be there for you. You are the man. I love you. No one is allowed to hurt you without hearing from me. No one is allowed to make Eskimo kisses with you. You da man, Joey, you da man." He took a swig of his beer and took a drag. In a whisper, he said, over and over, "you da man, you da man."

Joey moved closer to him so she could lean on his shoulder. "I love you, too, Pacey."

She was about to sit up when she felt him turn towards her. He cupped her face, stroking her cheek. He held her hand and placed it on his face. So there they sat, facing each other on a warm summer night, on a ledge on the rooftop of their dorm beneath a midnight carpet of stars on the last night of their college life. With a gentle pull of his hand, he moved her towards him, bringing her face towards his, slowly, oh so slowly. Forehead to forehead. Nose to nose. Cheek to cheek. It was as if Pacey wanted to hold her face close to his, smell her scent, feel her skin on his, and take her in. Then finally...

Everyone says that the kiss is the most powerful thing on earth. Joey would beg to differ. The most powerful thing on earth is the moment before the kiss. The exact moment your eyes lock and your breaths become in tune with one another, rhythmic and pulsating. The very millisecond you decide to tilt your head to one side to receive the lips moving towards yours, that is powerful. The precise moment you close your eyes and feel his breath on your face, his lips almost touching yours, that is breathtaking.

Joey held his kiss to her lips for as long as she could. It was sweet, tender and gentle. The earth did not shatter. The heavens did not split open and send angels singing, "Hallelujah!" There were no fireworks or parade. It was a simple kiss, done at the right time and for the right reason: to seal a declaration of love, friendship and promises.

So, I guess this it?" she asked, a small smile on her face. She could feel the tears burning her eyes as she tried to blink them away. It seemed like yesterday that she and Pacey stepped off onto this train station as nervous freshmen ready to jump into the first train back to Capeside. "Last chance. You can still get a ticket, Pacey." She thought, after last night, he would want to be with her in Capeside. Or at least ask her to stay. Neither happened.

He dumped her duffel bag on the floor and handed over her tickets. He looked down at her with a slightly pained look in his smile. "No can do, Potter. I've got my eyes set to work in this city I've grown to love, I've got a room...or rather, a sofa... set up in Mike's house and a cool CD collection. I've got what I need."

She cringed at that. I'm not part of his list of needs? Pasting a smile on her face, she asked in a cheery voice, "Come on, don't you want to see home, even for a while?"

He reached over to rough up her hair. "You're not going to give up on this are you?"

As she shook her head vehemently with her eyes closed, as if willing to make the nightmare disappear, Pacey cupped her face with his hands. "I'll see you around, Joey. You have a good trip. Call me as soon as you get home. And no buts!" he interrupted as she opened her mouth. Then he squeezed her cheeks and shook her head side to side. "And don't buy all the food in the train's restaurant, OK?"

The whistle blew. It sounded so ominous, as if it was taunting her to make the choice now, to take the bulls by the horns, to...to...to do anything! She looked at the conductor behind her, waiting for her to hand her ticket over to him. Then she looked in front of her, at the man whose love and friendship seemed to know no bounds...except for this city's limits.

With a whisper and a tight smile, she stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek, "I'll call you as soon as I get in. Promise."

She grabbed her bag, ran into the train and took her seat. The last thing she saw of this city as the train began to pull away was Pacey, cupping his hand over a cigarette and walking away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Joey looked out the window. The drizzling that started earlier has now become a torrential drumming. Drumming..."She was my amphetamine when the rain drummed a dull rhythm on my head." It's been so long since I thought of that poem.

Here she is now: 28 years old, running her own interior design company. She feels that she's fulfilled a lot of her dreams after going through a hell of disappointments, frustrations and fruitless searches. She's in her sitting on her chair, in front of her computer with her company's website. At age 28. How many people can say that? Wait a minute. I take that back. There're the guys who made Yahoo!, e-bay, hell, a million and one dot.com companies. But this my dot.com!

Unfortunately, it is during moments like these--when she's tired yet elated, exhausted yet fulfilled--when she realizes just how much she wishes she could call someone and share all of what she's feeling and experiencing. That someone used to be Pacey. Instead, she sits by her phone, willing it to ring, even if it were Matt Caulfield, the bastard who couldn't stand her and her painting.

She and Pacey tried to keep in touch the first few weeks after graduation. It was easy: an email here, a phone call there and maybe, a planned weekend visit. Gradually, the schedule of work and life in general took precedence over the email and phone call. With a detachment she didn't know possible, the pursuance of the dream became more important than the friendship she thought meant the world to her. And to him.

Now, it's been over four years. She hasn't seen Pacey in two of them. The last time she saw him was at the Design Convention. That was a bleak moment in time. Talk about awkward and dull hellos. She was so angry at him.

Why would the loss of 24-hour-togetherness be the reason why we are not as close as we used to be? Do we have to be in close proximity all the time to keep our friendship alive? she thought angrily, throwing a ball of crumpled paper against the monitor. Wistfully, she reached for the photograph of Pacey on her desk and stroked his face with her finger, tracing lazy eights over and over, as if trying to photocopy his face into her brain's memory bank. The excitement she felt earlier at having accomplished so much, began to dull as she reflected, in hindsight, that all of these things mean nothing if it is not shared with someone she cared about--and cared about her. She may feel on top of the world, but being on top sometimes means standing alone at the peak.

Alone: that was the core of it all. The sound of silence in her apartment was so deafening, it roared like a storm in her mind. The incessant drumming of the rain on her window did not provide her any comfort, the way it used to..when we used to stay in his room back in college, having hot chocolate and cinnamon rolls.

Pacey had provided her with what the other men in her life could not give her: comfort. Bryan was this passionate fire but he was so consuming, so strong a personality that she felt that he defined who she was. She lost her senses in the adventures and the excitement. Other men were so practical and pattern-like in their lifestyle that each day resembled the day before you could chart it: flat liner. But with Pacey, she felt that there was that magical balance between passion and reason. That his love of life would inspire her to love it as he does but in a way that befits who she is and now who he is. That his logical (OK, not so logical) thinking would provide her with more foresight and planning. Yet they could have adventures, they could have exciting times. However, the passion within him did not consume her. In fact, the passion within him brought out the fire within her.

And in the end, after a long day of fighting the pedestrian warriors and the academic drolls, they could sit together on the ledge of a roof and find comfort in the six inches of space between their shoulders. She could find warm fuzzies and comforting sighs in the silence, so long as she was with Pacey.

The distance and time between them has become so far and so deep that she felt that she had lost the connection to him. That she can no longer reach out and hear the voice behind his words, see the sights beyond his eyes. In her haste to become who she envisioned herself to be, to suck the marrow out of life so to speak, she had forgotten the fire behind the passion that was Pacey.

The last few hours she spent reminiscing about the life she had in college with Pacey has made her realize that she did love him. Really loved him, with her whole heart and soul, with a love she's never felt before. He occupies her every single thought and dream, making her feel close to exploding. She loves him. And that she wants him back in her life in any way possible. But her heart was burning with this fire to let her heart be her voice for once in her life. She was beginning to feel this urge to stand in front of him and say, "Pacey, I love you. I love you. So there. I've wanted to tell you that since 1996."

What happens next, she can just see it in her head. He will look at me, shake his head and say, 'Where is this coming from? What's going on? It's been over four years now and you come out of the blue with this?' Or worse, I will look in his eyes and see nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I could have said something. He kissed me that night, didn't he? Could that have been a sign that he finally loved me as much as I loved him? I was just too scared---to afraid to lose him as a friend, too scared to tell him how I really felt for fear that he would look at me with blank eyes. I wouldn't be able to live knowing that the awkwardness between us would not let me call him at midnight and ask if he was in the mood to talk. I would have disintegrated if we would have drifted apart.

Drifted apart. She never thought it could happen but it did. They haven't spoken in over two years. Maybe not having seen him or spoken to him would make this easier.

Maybe if I tell him then realize that there is no place for me in his life, it'll be easier for me to take it. I won't be around to look at him and feel like I'm in some twisted "Twilight Zone" movie where he doesn't see nor hear me.

There's a part of me that thinks I don't have anything to lose. I lost him sometime ago. That even if he doesn't love me back, I would survive. Having him return my love isn't even the point--- it's all about my need to tell him. To speak my heart and let the truth be told.

I just know that I need to tell him what I've bottled up for so long. That with every person I met, every new friend I made and with every so-called man in my life, I compared to him---and none of them matched up. I just know now that I will regret it for the rest of my life if I didn't let the truth be told, if I didn't let the fire inside consume me so I can become whole again. I can't grow up old knowing that I wasn't able to tell one of the most important people in my life that I loved him. No more nightmares of being at my deathbed, knowing that I was too scared and selfish to tell him that he was...is...the love of my life, the most important man in my life.

Joey began to hear an insistent ring as she walked down the streets of the city. She slapped her forehead when she realized that it was her cellular phone ringing. She still wasn't used to this hustle and bustle lifestyle. She stopped dead in her tracks, ransacked her bag for the annoying phone and whipped it out, sheepishly looking around at the people who bumped into her as she stood on the sidewalk.

Damn these things. These things are people-I-don't-care-about tracking devices!

The caller ID displayed a phone number not listed in her address book.

"Hello?" she said, hesitantly.

"Hello?" the voice replied. "Is this Joey Potter? This is Mike Higgins."

"Ohmigod!" she screamed down the phone. "Big Mike! How'd you get this number?"

"Hehehe, I hope you don't mind but I called your office at Capeside and told them I was your doctor calling in about your test results. They told me you were in the city and I thought to myself, 'Hey, why not hook up with Potter? Get the gang together.'" he informed her.

"What a great idea! Actually, I've been in the city for a few days now. Apartment hunting."

"You're moving back? That's great? Wanna tell me why?"

"Well, Joey Potter just landed the design account for the Watson-Thompson building. It was a great deal. I just do all the designs from lobby to bathrooms, from elevator to function rooms. It was huge enough for me to consider moving back to the city. You know, try to land other accounts."

"Holy sh*t, that's great! So, JP Designs really did push through, huh? Good for you. Why don't we meet up for dinner tonight? Get everyone together at Aperitivo? Would you believe the band still plays there? I'll do the calls and I'll pick you up at your hotel."

As she dictated the name and address of the hotel she was staying at, her heart began to beat faster. Please let Pacey be there tonight. She had called earlier before she left for Capeside, having the perfect reason to call him only to get his answering machine. Pretending to be someone else, she had called his office trunk line only to be told that "Mr. Pacey Witter is on a business trip on the West Coast." Damn hell. When did Pacey become Mr. Pacey? she thought grumpily.

~~~~~~~~~~~`
"So, tell me, Joey, you think you'll be able to adjust to life where I, Big Mike, am just around the corner to bug you everyday to join me for a Mafia-Movie night or go drinking and dancing here at the Aperitivo?" he asked.

Joey and Mike were having dinner at their favorite college haunt. It was a weekday so it wasn't so full and most of the clientele were wearing neckties and suits, not plaid shirts or leather jackets that the university students seem to favor.

"Oh boy, I knew it! You're going to try and corrupt me again! Big Mike, it's time to broaden your horizons! Move on! Leave the mafia behind you! I swear, if I didn't know you any better, I'd think you were part of the mafia! Look at all those thick necklaces you wear! Who's going to believe that you're going to be a future cardiovascular surgeon, huh?"

Mike picked up a knife and pretended to stab himself. "Ouch. You hurt me, Joey, you wound me! Can't I look like the Don and be a Doctor Don or something?" He snapped his fingers at a waiter and asked for the drink list. "You want something to drink? A bottle of red wine, maybe?"

"Whoa! We really have changed, haven't we? Back then, all we had were gin tonics and Canadian beer..."

"When you've got money, you can buy."

"Words of wisdom, Mike Higgins." She looked around then at her watch. "Where are the others? I thought tonight was going to be some college reunion."

"I called most of the guys. I'm disappointed in them, Joey," he said, looking at her with exaggerated sadness. "They've... they've... they've slowed down on their drinking! It's like there is this conspiracy to let me destroy my liver alone!"

Joey laughed heartily. "Still the same, Mike, you're still the same. So, how're the others doing? Charlie? Tom? Is he still with what's-her-name, Cheryl? Pacey, how is he?" When she mentioned Pacey's name, her voice broke. She could feel herself blushing and thanked all the gods in heaven that the booth they were in was dark.

"Charlie is in law school. Tom is marrying Cheryl, last I heard. Now, Pacey... well, would you believe he's kicking some butt at C&G Oil? They send him all over the country, checking out the major plant sites and stuff. Seems to have a knack for logistics, that guy. He can plan for everything and everyone." Joey could feel Mike's eyes burning her cheek when he began to talk about Pacey. His next question made her wish she was astral traveling. Anything but having to answer him.

"So, Joey. What was up with you and Pacey, huh?" He had lit a cigar and looked the other away, as if embarrassed to ask her this question.

Stammering as she tried to think of an intelligent quip to deflect the seriousness of the question and the ramifications of her answer if she decided to be honest, she could only blurt out, "We were friends. Just good friends. Childhood friends."

Mike rolled his eyes and let out a huge puff of smoke at her direction. "You've got to be kidding me, Joey. I'm sorry I'm bringing this up but I'm kinda tipsy with that last bottle of wine we downed and you know how talkative I get when I'm tipsy. You can't escape this interrogation, little woman! What about all that sexual tension between the two of you? Or the fact that each time I mentioned Bryan Hayward's name, he'd throw a hissy fit to rival Sandra Bullock? Come on, cough it up."

"Really, Mike, we were just good friends. He was always looking out for me, or rather, hovering around me like some demented guardian angel to paranoid for his own good. Just good friends," she insisted. A part of me wanted to spill the beans, talk to someone about how she really felt for him. She could trust Mike, but could she handle telling the truth? When you tell another human being how you feel, it's like writing it down on stone. It solidifies what you've always thought to be some glitch in your brain.

"OK, if you say so. But if you ask me, if the two of you just stopped pretending, maybe something would have happened. He's a good man, Pacey Witter. You should have been there that night. I thought he was going to destroy my kitchen. He was throwing food on the table, like a chef gone mad, as he tried to fix himself a sandwich. Really wanted to go talk to that Bryan guy and insist that he apologize. Or at least talk to you and explain himself. Nuts, I told him it was meddling. But you know how he is."

"Yup, I sure do. Once beat up a bully in high school because he painted over my mural. He's that kind of guy." She took a sip of her wine and looked straight at Mike. "Mike, can you keep a secret? I just need to talk to someone about this before I go crazy." She sighed deeply and took another gulp of wine, as if it would give her the extra courage to talk.

"I love Pacey. I guess that's just the simple truth. I've loved him most of college life but the guy just treated me like a good friend. I wasn't ready to risk his friendship and result in this awkward stage of strained hi's and hello's. I was also scared that if we did go through that awkward stage, it'd be difficult for me to hang with you guys. I didn't want to lose the group either." She looked up at him and asked, "Did he ever...talk about me? You know, in that way?"

"You're a stupid one. Pacey would never allow any awkwardness between the two of you, or the rest of us. He'll pretend it never happened, maybe, he seems to be good at that. But, screw it all up for the rest of us? Never. Friendship was very important to the man.

Yes, he did talk about you a lot. In fact, Charlie and Tom would be on his case all the time about you. Asking if anything was going on. They knew that you two hung out in each other's dorm rooms but we wanted all the details, right? No offense, but we were just horny college boys needing to hear about any action any of us might have been getting.

Gentleman through and through, that Pacey. He'd tell us about what you two would talk about but so vaguely that in the end, we didn't really have a clue. And he'd always shrug off the 'Is it you and Joey' question. He wouldn't deny nor would he tease us. He'd literally just shrug his shoulders and grab another slice of pizza or something."

Joey began to chew on her lip. "Did he...ever get upset about the teasing?" She prayed that he didn't. She would hate the fact if they used her to razz Pacey.

"Nope. Took it all with a smile and would say something like, 'She's a great girl, that Joey Potter.' Then he'd just shut up or change the topic. Charlie and Tom couldn't crack, till the end." He gulped down his wine and took another puff from his cigar, a contemplative look on his face, as if he was trying to formulate the next sentence.

"I wish I could tell you how he felt about you. I know that the two of you...this strange chemistry between the two of you that I can't define. Not even Cheryl and Tom can connect the way you two do. But then again, a lot of good friends have that and they don't become anything. On the other hand, Pacey may be Mr. Carpe Diem but truth be told, he was also Mr. Make Sure... Look at his college girlfriends: they always made the first move with him. It was like, he needed to make sure, you know?"

Joey thought about what Mike had just said. What is he trying to say? Is he trying to encourage me by comparing what I have with Pacey with Tom and Cheryl, two people so obviously made for each other? She remained quiet instead and looked away, towards the stage where the band was getting set up.

"Joey? I'm sorry if I brought this up. I can see that it's pretty difficult for you. It's just that I get stupid when I drink, there's this great need to talk out issues that bounce around in my head. And seeing you here, in this bar," waving his arm, "without Pacey...it just seemed disjointed, you know? Like something isn't right."

Joey nodded and smiled at Mike. "I’m glad you brought it up. It's been broiling in my head for so long. It was bound to come up sooner or later and I'm glad it came up with you. You're a good friend, you always were. You also seemed to notice a lot of things I didn't. I just wish I were as observant as you."

The evening ended them parting ways and promising to keep in touch. She was looking at another set of apartments and small office spaces tomorrow in preparation for her move to the city she and Pacey gallivanted around in for four years. It was going to be like old times. Or were the old times just what they were: old?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She had spent the last few hours in front of a computer and reminiscing about that night she had dinner with Big Mike. That was two years ago. She had met up with him a few times throughout the year whenever he had time to spare between med school and new girlfriends. But Pacey was never there for the little college rendezvous. Business meeting. Vacation. Too busy. Always some reason and she was beginning to think he was calling ahead to find out if she was going to be there---then think of some excuse not to show up... she thought gloomily.

It was a Friday night and here she sat alone in her apartment, listening to Duncan Sheik wail of Wishful Thinking. Tapping her ball pen on her forehead, she began to pace the room. She willed the phone to ring. Big Mike. Charlie. Tom. Cheryl. Anybody?

Well, it's time to take matters into your own hands, woman.

She crossed the room and reached for her phone. She dialed.

"Hello? Can I please speak to Pacey Witter?...Oh, hi, Pace. Didn't recognize your voice...Oh, just finishing up some stuff for work. I'm dog-tired but...huh? Yeah, landed a few more accounts. Got the new Florida resort to work on. A few houses up in Connecticut, old family houses...Hey, you busy tomorrow? Wanna grab dinner or something? Go to Garlic Rose, remember that restaurant near the museum? Eight? Great."

She put the phone down and slowly collapsed to the floor, a stupid smile on her face. Tomorrow. Finally. After so long, I'm going to be able to talk to Pacey. And tomorrow? I take the bull by the horns.

Is it possible to be this nervous without actually dying of a heart attack? she thought to herself as she brushed her hair, staring at her nervous reflection on the mirror. She stood up and began to pace the floor of her bedroom. Here I am pacing up and down, pacing this floor...pacing...Pacey. Goddamnit, have I deteriorated to the point that I can associate a verb with a man? I'm going nuts. I hope to God he's as nervous as I am at least. I hope, I hope...

Garlic Rose was a restaurant they had favored in their college years when they would come up with the cash to fork over for their over-priced Italian meals. It was the perfect setting. She had reserved a table on the second floor, near the balcony that overlooked the city's park. Soft lights, swaying scented candles and soothing music.

She was walking towards the restaurant, her heart in her throat, knowing full well that tonight, this restaurant will hold a new meaning for her. No longer just the restaurant they celebrated college achievements with family and friends. Instead, it will mark the night she finally risked her heart, her sanity. Or it will be the night I will make a total fool of myself...I just hope he's as nervous as I am. That will even out the battlefield, right?

As the hostess greeted her, she spied him sitting at the bar sharing a joke with the bartender. He had just thrown his head back and was thumping the top of the bar, his laughter carrying all the way to where she stood. Wow, great. Not only is he not nervous, he's ahead in the alcohol-gives-me-strength department!

Pasting a smile on her face, she strode towards him and placed an arm across his back and sat on the bar stool beside his. She felt herself blushing at the first physical contact they have had in almost two years.

"Hey, Pacey!"

He slid off his chair and pulled Joey towards him in a big bear hug, shaking her around like a toy.

"Oh, man, it is so good to see you! So good to see you!" He held her away for a moment as his eyes seemed to scan her whole face, as if trying to memorize her features...or look for signs of change. "Man, you still look the same. I hate natural beauties."

She could only smile at his backhand compliment and mutter a "you look good, too" reply. From the corner of her eye, she saw the hostess holding two menus and pointing them towards the stairs. "Ms. Potter? Your table upstairs is ready."

So they walked and talked, shoulders brushing so closely that Joey found it hard to breathe. She smiled, she nodded, and she laughed at the right moments. Yet she felt so displaced, as if she was in a movie. It was like she was looking at Pacey who seemed to be moving in slow- motion. She was in deep danger of spacing out as a defensive move, as if she was trying not to imagine what she had planned to say tonight.

"Ms. Potter? Mr. Witter? Here's your table. Would you like to start with a drink as you go through our menu? From what I understand, the last time you were here was over four years ago. A lot has changed," she said, with a winning smile reserved for clients. Joey had to bite her tongue for fear an acerbic remark would escape her lips.

At the same time, Joey said "Red wine" while Pacey said, "Scotch on the rocks." They looked at each other with quizzical looks, as if in disbelief.

"Red wine?" "Scotch?"

Pacey laughed. "We're sure far from our 5 dollar drinks are we? Aah, what money can buy! I have to admit, since I started working, I've developed a taste for the good stuff."

"Well, I'm guilty of the same. I mean, we scrounged around for money just to live on gin tonics in underground basement bars? I think it's about time we get to know the stuff that we missed, right?"

The waiter had placed their drinks on their tables and taken their orders. He had lit the candle on their table and asked them if they wished to have their side of the balcony opened to let the air in. They both nodded in agreement.

"That's a beautiful view," Pacey observed. "The last time I was here, we were celebrating Big Mike's dean's list announcement."

"Yeah. You know what? When I first met Mike, I always thought he was one of those college guys who were just studying to just make the grade. So they can party, live the whole college lifestyle, live for beer fests kind of guy. Then he was hitting the top percentile of the school, now he's in med school." Joey shook her head in amazement.

"I love that guy. If it weren't for him and for you, I'd probably would have flunked out of college. It wasn't because I couldn't hack it. In fact, I loved the classes I was taking. It wasn't like high school where I questioned having to take up trigonometry. Classes in college mattered." He turned away from the view and looked at her. "Those were good times, weren't they?"

She nodded with a smile and raised her glass. "I think a toast is in order. To the good old times."

"To...to...to never forgetting them good old times." They clinked glasses and took a sip. He reached into his jacket's pocket and pulled out his cigarettes, offering one to Joey who declined.

"What? You quit smoking?" Pacey cried.

"No, I didn't! I'd probably never quit, lest I get pregnant. I just don't smoke as much now. Just when I'm working or when I can't sleep," she replied.

"So," he said, between puffs, "what did you drag me to this restaurant for? What's up with you?"

"What?" she cried. "I can't ask a friend out to dinner anymore? I haven't seen you in over two years, I move back into the city and I can't ask you out to dinner with the mere intention of sharing a meal?"

Pacey shook his head with a little laugh. "Give me a break, Jo. I've known you all my life. I know it when something is on your mind. You've been so polite to me all evening, hell, you even laughed at my stupid joke that the bartender politely laughed at, too. What is it?"

His question was met with a deep silence. The music was pouring so softly through the speakers. The cars seemed to have halted on the road. That was how quiet it was.

Then he spoke.

"Ohmigod. You're pregnant? You're pregnant! That's why you're not smoking!" He reached over for the ashtray and immediately killed his cigarette, using his hand to blow away the smoke.

Joey let out her first real laugh that night. Tears in her eyes, one hand on her stomach and the other thumping the table, she let out a howling laugh that left her gasping for breath. She laughed even harder at the incredulous look on Pacey's face, the jaw hanging open and his eyes flittering left to right as he looked at the woman in front of him who was about to fall of her chair.

"I...am...not...preg...pregnant!" she said in between gasps. She wiped her cheeks and took a long draught of her wine. "I am not pregnant, Pacey, but thanks for saying so. That brought a real good laugh from me!"

"No sh*t, Sherlock! Damn hell, I was serious there! I was already thinking of all the doctors I knew, refer you to hospitals, open an account, yada yada yada!" He downed his scotch and exaggeratedly wiped the beads of sweat off his forehead. "You got me scared there for a while."

In a soft voice, Joey asked, "And if I were? What would you have done?"

"I don't know. Support your decision. Or help you come to one. In the end, I'll do whatever you asked me to. If you needed doctors, I know plenty. Or if you needed cash or a place to stay or a hand to hold, I'd have done that. Like I always do." He looked straight into her eyes and said, "Like I always do."

"Like you always do, Pacey," she whispered. "You were right though." She looked at his questioning face, urging her to explain herself. "I did ask you here for a reason. I asked you to join me here for dinner to talk to you about something." She looked away for a moment. Her heart was pounding. She feared that he could see the artery on her neck pulsing, the way Lestat saw it on his victims. She feared that he could hear the accelerating rhythm that was her heartbeat. She wrung her hands under the table, twisting them around and around, nearing the point where they just might crack.

"I asked you to come here so that I could tell you that...that... I love you. I've loved you all our college life. That...that I want to take our friendship to the next level or the next step or whatever dimension they call it. I...I love you. That's all there is to it."

The silence that met her confession rang like a church bell. Time stood still for a moment. Nothing could be heard, not even her breathing for she had held it right after she said the word "it". He was staring at her with those big blue eyes of his, cryptic they were to her for the first time in years. She couldn't read them.

Heart in her hand, charging like a bullet train, she held his eyes until they began to water.

"I...I...I need some fresh air," he said, pushing away from the table and stumbling towards the balcony.

Tears began to form in her eyes. Her throat was so painful trying to hold onto the torrential weeping that was trying to break through her self-control. The crushing feeling on her chest...it was excruciating. The pain of those unreadable eyes...they were like doors, double-bolted with security locks. Closed eyes. Closed to her.

With what little strength she could muster, she followed him to the balcony. Each step was so heavy; she was wearing concrete shoes, it seemed. Each swing of her arm was an effort in itself. She didn't feel like she was on the concrete balcony of a restaurant; she felt like she was walking the plank.

Nothing had prepared her for this moment though she had rehearsed this over and over in her mind. She had told herself that the chances of Pacey jumping for joy at her announcement were almost nil, but she wasn't prepared to look at his closed eyes.

"Say something. Please," she said, standing a distant two feet from him. She looked imploringly at his profile, which was now stonily looking up at the city's twinkling lights.

Without turning to look at her, he said, "Why now? Why now that I've come so close to...why now?"

"Because I was stupid. Because I am stupid. Too stupid to see what a good thing we had back then. I was too stupid to see the truth: that I love you," she said, cringing when she saw his shoulders stiffen at the word "love". "Because once, you told me that you loved me. That last night..."

"I know. But why now, Joey?" he cried, his shoulders beginning to shake. "Why now that I've come so close to forgetting the pain you unknowingly put me through? Why now when I've almost forgotten what it was like to be there for you, to love you so much and...and be ignored?"

She gingerly reached out to touch his arm. "Because I can't live asking myself "what if" for the rest of my life. Because I'm selfish: I can't end my days knowing that I did not tell the man I love most in the world how I really felt about him. That I was grateful for all that he has done for me. That he was like this sanity pill I couldn't have lived without. That he literally brought sunshine into my life." She paused when she saw that he was still looking away. In a hushed tone, she said, "I'm sorry that I brought this up. I'm sorry that you are feeling like this. I have no right to bring up the past, to use those good times as...reasons to finally realize how I feel for you."

He did not reach out to hold her hand yet she kept it there. He began to say in a low voice, "I've kept so many things to myself for so long so that I wouldn't have to face the truth nor tell the truth. That I cared for you more deeply than any woman in my life. Only twice have I told you my true feelings and still you didn't see! The night that I read my poem. It was for you, Joey, for you! Then on that last night on the roof when I told you that I loved you and we kissed, my heart was in that kiss. Every heartbeat, every pulsating heartbeat I put into that kiss. It was like you were taking the very life of me. Yet...yet..."

"Yet what?" she whispered.

"Yet you said nothing. You told me that you loved me but it was the same kind of love that we had for each other when we were kids. It wasn't the kind of love that I needed from you. You say that you love me...but I know that it isn't the same kind of love that I had for you." He gave a deep sigh and looked out the balcony.

"It was the same kind, Pacey, the exact kind. But I was too scared to wreck what we had, to go through the awkward roller coaster of denial and tolerance. I was too scared to let you know how I felt because... because I didn't want to look at you the way I'm looking at you now. I didn't want to see you close your doors on me the way you're doing now." There was a pleading tone in her voice. She dared to move closer, now just a mere six inches away from him. "This isn't easy for me. I had just declared my love for you and you're looking out the balcony, ready to jump over if necessary."

He finally turned to look at her, tears beginning to form in his eyes. In a broken voice, he said, "Do you really want this? Are you willing to risk what we have, our friendship, our connection, and our status quo for romantic love? What if we try and we lose it all? What if, two years down the line, we find ourselves hating each other? Are you willing to risk all of that? Because I'm not sure I can't. I love you, Joey, but I don't want to lose you as a friend."

"Pacey...Pacey..." She reached up to stroke his cheek with the back of her hand. This brought on the falling of his tears on her fingers. The pain, there was just too much pain here.

"Pacey, look at where we are right now," she continued. "I've said what I have to say. It's either we stand here and decide to just remain friends and pretend this night never happened." She moved closer and held his hand in hers. "Or we can jump together. Two people taking risks together is better than living life full of regrets. We're too young to live with regrets. But I cannot give you guarantees, Pacey, no one can. The only thing that I can promise you is that I will love you with all that I've got.

We can take the next step. Together. You can take me in your heart and let me love you. You can look at me right now and tell me that we are going to hold hands and take this great big leap into the unknown."

Again, her words were met with silence. He still wasn't looking at her but instead was looking at their intertwined hands. He had begun to stroke her hand with his thumb, making circles over and over. His tears had stopped but his eyes were still so wary, so scared.

With his other hand, he stroked her hair back and began to talk over her head. "I've always been sure of what we had, Joey. That we will always be friends. That you will be my sounding board and I will be your punching bag. Things were so well defined between us. I knew everything there was to know. Or at least I thought so.

If we move on, if we decide to take the next step together, I will lose all that sureness, all those things I knew. It's like starting from scratch again. Can we go through all of that?"

"Pacey, look at me. Look at me." When he finally looked down at her, she moved closer, holding their intertwined hands to her cheek. "In real love, not friendship love, there are no guarantees. People can make promises, they can make their vows by the sea. In the end, nobody really knows for sure. Except that it will definitely not work if there is too much doubt. Can you love me without fear? Can you love me with gratitude instead? That's how I intend to love you if you take me. I will thank the stars every night for having given me a man who was like my brother and friend. I will thank them for letting me know this beautiful, beautiful man in front of me, who is man enough to cry, man enough to tell me that he's as scared sh*tless as I am."

She held his hand close to her face as she looked straight into his eyes.

Then the clouds in his eyes began to move away. The doors began to open.

"You love me?"

She nodded vehemently, tightening her grip on his hand.

"Joey, once I risk everything I know to be safe and true to redefine who we are to each other, it'll be like serving you my heart in a platter. I'm...I'm...going to give you everything I've got."

Silence met his words.

"Joey? Say something."

She blinked a few times. Then her face broke into a smile. "Truth be told, I wouldn't have it any other way."

He smiled at her as she began to plant small kisses on his hand as she stroked his face with the other. They just stood there, the city lights behind them, the cool wind on their faces and the soft music flowing onto the balcony. It was perfect.

No, it wasn't.

What was perfect was that space in time before they leaned towards each other. That perfect moment when, hearts in hand, they poured out every heartbeat into that kiss, a kiss so full of love unspoken through the years and understanding that together, they were jumping into the unknown. Together.

As they pulled away, Joey looked up at him with a full, shining smile on her face. "OK, now that's all said and done, can I cry now?" she said in a breaking voice as she collapsed in tears on Pacey's chest, collapsing with relief and happiness as she let the dam of tears finally explode. Finally. Truth be told, it couldn't have ended any other way. She wouldn't have let him slip away.