"One, you're like a dream come true.
Two, just wanna be with you.
Three, girl, it's plain to see,
That you're the only one for me.
And four, repeat steps one through three.
Five, make you fall in love with me.
If ever I should feel my work is done,
Then I'll start back at one."
-- Brian McKnight, Back At One
Joey breathed in the salt water as she looked out at the ocean. Pacey settled beside her, handing her a plastic cup of iced tea. "Thanks," she smiled.
"You're welcome," he said. "It's really beautiful out here, huh?"
She nodded. "It's gorgeous. You wouldn't happen to know what we're going to do in Catalina for a week?"
They both took a seat on a nearby bench. "I'm going to enjoy your company," he said.
"Was that a line?" she asked, grinning.
"Maybe a little one," he smiled. "You don't like it?"
"You're very smooth, Pacey," she said sarcastically.
Things were quiet for a moment. Joey looked at Pacey, and saw he was deep in thought. "What's up?" she asked.
"I was thinking about you last night before I went to sleep," he said.
"You were?" she asked, the corner of her mouth turning into a smile.
"Yeah," he said. "Last night was wonderful, beautiful even. And I'm sure that we have seven great days ahead of us. It's just that . . . I sort of feel like reality's crumbling down on us."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"You live in Paris, Jo."
Joey laughed. "I know."
"So how could we even work?" he asked. "Concord on the weekend? Thousand dollar telephone bills?"
"We could make it work," she said. She gently took his hand and smiled at him. "I can take pictures anywhere, you know?"
His head snatched up, and he looked into her eyes. "Do you mean that? You'd live here?"
"Yeah," she said. "For the man I loved? In a second."
Pacey smiled back at her, looking washed in a wave of relief. The conversation she'd had with Dawson yesterday had made her think about it. And she was glad that she had. For the first time, she thought this was serious. In just five days she'd fallen in love. It was a lot more simple than she always thought it would be. Of course, all her complicated romances had failed.
This one was simple. It made her have the boundless energy of a child. It made her smile. It made her giggle. It made her have an unnerving faith in forever. And the most amazing thing was that she wasn't scared. She was excited, giddy with anticipation.
And she wanted to see what was going to happen next.
* * * * *
Joey examined the house in awe as she trolled up the stairs. It was absolutely huge for a weekend home, but she knew that Marissa's parents probably had homes like this across the world, so it shouldn't have been such a surprise. It was a secluded, large, white house with picture windows, sitting just on the edge of the island. There was beautiful, grainy sand just outside the door, crystal blue water that stretched back to the mainland. The interior was just as stunning, with white walls and furniture. There was a large marble fireplace in the living room, along with a beautiful spiral staircase.
Joey ran down the stairs of the house excitedly, greeting Pacey in the kitchen. "Did you have any idea that this place was this huge?" she asked.
He shook his head. "But you should've been able to tell by the wedding that Marissa's folks never do anything half-assed."
"I'll say," Joey said, still looking around the house.
"Let's hope Dawson had the foresight to leave food, because I'm starving," Pacey said, heading for the refrigerator.
"Anything good?" Joey asked.
"A letter from Dawson," he said, pulling his head from the refrigerator and shutting the door. He ripped open the envelope and handed it to Joey.
She began to read the letter aloud, as Pacey returned to rummage through the food in the refrigerator. "Dear Pacey and Joey, I hope you find the accommodations for you vacation adequate. I'm sure you both know by now that this has all been my handiwork. So sue me if I want you both together. There's not much you can do about it now, considering Marissa and I are happily living it up in the Virgin Islands."
Joey looked up at Pacey and smiled. "I can't believe him."
"You mean you wish he hadn't done any of it?" he asked.
"No, I just wish he hadn't been so damn sneaky," she laughed, looking back at the paper to finish. "You two have a good time, and try to do some falling in love if you can. Love, Dawson."
"Well, he's always been anything but subtle," Pacey shrugged.
Joey laughed. "Oh, and look," she said, pulling something from the envelope, "a visitor's guide. And Dawson has taken it upon himself to flag the good stuff."
"Well, let's find something good to do," Pacey said, resting next to Joey as he chomped on an apple.
"Mr. Witter, I believe today is the perfect day for shopping," she said.
"Why not?" he said. He linked his arm around hers and grabbed the keys to the rental car.
* * * * *
"Joey," Pacey whined. "You've looked absolutely wonderful in everything you've tried on, and I will personally buy you every single outfit if we leave now."
Joey had an amused look on her face as she emerged from the fitting room in her own clothes. "Okay," she said. "Just let me put these back."
He grabbed a dress from the pile. "Not this one," he said. Without another word he walked to the front of the store and stood in line as Joey put back the other clothes.
* * * * *
Joey watched Pacey thoughtfully as he picked up a shell and tossed it out into the ocean. She smiled softly. She didn't really understand what was happening. Some people would call it a whirlwind romance, but it'd been five days and he hadn't even kissed her. Something about the situation was so romantic. They were familiar strangers, thrown together by the handiwork of a long-time friend on the weekend of his wedding. And amidst all the romantic wedding planning, she found out how sweet he was, how much he'd grown, how romantic he was. She found out he was what she'd been looking for, and now they were alone together on a vacation.
It was a strange feeling. Never in a million years was she supposed to feel this way about Pacey. Yet, here she was watching him and trying to figure out when and how she fell in love with him.
Catalina was gorgeous. She was enjoying so much about being there with him. Even the silence was comfortable. She felt so wired, though, as if she could run a marathon or talk until she died, but it also had a sereneness about it. There were hues of purple and orange and yellow filling the sky as the sun set, and the surf lapped softly at her feet as she felt her feet sink into the ground.
"Tell me about your job, Pacey," she said.
"What?" he asked, looking back at her as he tossed another shell back into the ocean.
She shrugged, taking a seat in the sand. "I'm just curious about it."
"I'm a cop," he said, sitting next to her. "It's not nearly as interesting as it is on t.v."
"Are you ever scared?" she asked.
He shook his head. "I can't be scared. The first time that I looked down the barrel of a gun I realized that."
"Someone's held a gun on you?"
"Yeah," he said. "Lots of times. It's just part of the territory."
"How do you ever get used to that?" she said softly.
"Someone's gotta do it, Jo. Besides, I do more waiting and more paper pushing than anything else. It's not like I'm chasing bad guys 24/7."
"Why do you do it?"
He laughed. "My sophomore year of college I worked in campus security," he said. "Don't laugh," he added when he saw the expression on her face. "I walked girls back to their dorms after late classes and that sort of thing. It was . . . it was eye-opening. I'm not sure what exactly did it. One day I just went to change my major to criminal justice."
"Why'd you like it, though?" she asked.
"Well, let's face facts, Jo. You had to know that I wasn't a serious student. My first year I probably had blood alcohol levels that were higher than my GPA. At some point, though, you have to get serious. I have the drive," he said. "I'm not scared when I go out there. A Kamikaze attitude is everything in this business."
"You don't ever worry about getting shot?" she asked, almost scared to hear the answer. She knew that was a good quality in a cop, but she wasn't sure it would be a good quality in a boyfriend.
"It doesn't hurt so bad," he said, attempting to smile.
Her eyes widened. "You've?"
He nodded. "Shot twice, stabbed once. No big deal."
"Did it . . . hurt?" she asked.
"Jo," he began, knowing she didn't want to hear about it.
"I want to know," she said. "Tell me about it."
He pulled his white tee-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. He pointed to his left shoulder, a small round scar and another long straight scar. "Shot in the shoulder," he said simply.
She reached out tentatively to run her finger along the scar. "How'd it happen?"
"Domestic violence call. The husband didn't think we should've been interfering, so he got me with his shotgun." Joey just looked back at him sadly. "It's different than it sounds on t.v.," he continued. "The first time I heard a gun shot, it was different. The first time you get shot--it's the same thing. It's just not what you're expecting."
She looked back seriously at him. This was somewhat of a reality check, bringing them back to reality after they'd lived somewhere else for days. "What's the long one?" she asked.
"No exit wound," he said. "They had to go in and get it out. It's not so bad. It just hurts like a bitch when it rains."
"Where's the other one?" she asked.
"This one," he said, pointing to another small scar on his leg, "was from a drug raid. Stray shot. It got me." He pointed down to a jagged scar on his abdomen. "This is my most interesting one," he added. "Routine traffic stop. He stabbed me when I was looking at his driver's licence. It probably hurt more than the gunshots."
"How do you do it?" she asked softly.
"I don't know," he answered. "Take it day by day, hope for the best, and as long as I keep breathing, I'm happy."
"You're brave, huh?"
"I'm lucky."
"You afraid your luck will run out?" she asked.
He smiled softly. "I think that my luck is just beginning."
She couldn't help but to smile back at him. He was so sweet, especially trying so hard to turn a serious moment into something a little more happy. "So why do you say that?" she asked lightly.
"Because I've found you," he smiled. "And that wasn't a line," he added quickly.
"So what's going to happen?" she asked, smiling.
"I'm not sure," he returned.
"You haven't even kissed me yet," she said.
"I know," he said. "I thought we were waiting for the right moment."
"You're waiting for the right moment," she countered. "As far as I'm concerned, we've had right moments."
"Well, you could kiss me," he offered.
"You're supposed to be the one romancing me," she laughed.
"Is that what I'm doing?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"It's working," she smiled.
"So is now a right moment?" he asked.
She looked around, a crooked grin on her face. "Sunset, ocean, you . . . it seems to be more than enough."
He moved closer to her, and spoke softly. "You sure? I can't take it back."
"Are you expecting peril on the first kiss?" she asked.
"No," he said, placing his fingers softly under her chin. "I'm expecting bliss."
"So why haven't you done it?" she asked.
"I can only figure I must be crazy," he said.
She smiled before she felt him softly touch his lips to hers. He was so tender, yet demanding. In that second she wondered why they'd waited so long. It seemed as if they should've been doing this forever. Her hands settled on his shoulders, as he twined his fingers in her hair. He pulled away, his hands settled on each side of her face. "You are crazy," she mumbled.
"Why is that?" He smiled.
She laughed, leaning her forehead against his. "Because after all that build-up, it was still more wonderful than I'd imagined."
* * * * *
Pacey inhaled the ocean air as he stood on the porch, looking out at the sand and the dark ocean. He was waiting patiently for Joey to come out so they could go to dinner.
He didn't know what was happening. All he knew was that he'd fallen hard for her. He'd spent a lot of time wandering around, hoping to find what he wanted to do with his life, who he wanted to share his life with. After so many times coming up empty, it was so unusual to find some one so right and love her so easily. Especially considering they'd known each other since cooties were spreading across the playground.
She stayed quiet as she walked up behind him. One of the things she'd grown to love over the past few days was the simple act of watching him when he didn't know that she was. He was serious, his stature commanding. "Hey," she said softly.
He turned around and grinned widely. "Wow," he marveled. "You look stunning."
"Thank you," she said, smiling self-consciously.
They walked quietly down the street to a small jazz club they'd spotted earlier when they were shopping. It was quaint, with some unknown saxophonist playing up on the small stage. The room was dark and laid back, as they ate lightly and enjoyed each other's company.
Pacey pulled his chair closer to Joey's as she worked to finish her drink. "So," he said, grinning slightly at her. "I told you all about my job, and you didn't tell me anything about yours."
"I take pictures," she said, unable to hide the smile that wanted to show.
"Why do you take pictures, Miss Potter?" he asked smoothly.
She stopped momentarily to clap for the saxophonist as he finished his set. "Well, Pace, I like to take pictures."
"You're not going to make this easy on me, are you?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I'm not exactly sure what you're asking me."
"Shouldn't you have some passion for photography that you'd be willing to talk about endlessly?" he asked. "I want to know what motivates you to get out of bed every morning and do your job."
"My job and why I love taking pictures are two separate things," she explained. "You see, when I go out to do a shoot for work, I'm not really interested in taking pictures of emaciated models. I take pictures of the models to take pictures of other things."
"Like what?" he asked.
She laughed, amused, yet impressed by his interest. She figured it was time to be serious. That seemed to be what he wanted. "It's like the sunset we watched today," she began. "Beautiful, right?"
"Beautiful," he agreed. "Maybe not the most beautiful thing around at the time, though."
"Well," she continued, "lots of people don't take time to stop and appreciate it. So I can take that one moment when mother nature has created perfection and capture it forever."
He smiled softly. "Do you even know how beautiful that is?"
She shrugged. "It's not really beautiful, it's just how I feel."
He pressed a lock of her hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger near her neck. "You don't even realize how phenomenal you are, do you?" he asked.
She looked down at her glass, not even wanting to address the subject. She couldn't believe that she was lucky enough to be there with this wonderful man, and he was using words like beautiful, stunning, and phenomenal to describe her.
He shook his head, moving away from her just a bit. "I guess you think that I'm still feeding you lines," he said, his voice dejected.
She reached out, placing her hand softly atop his. "It's not that," she said softly. "I'm just wondering if maybe . . . well, I could be dreaming or something."
He laughed. "I'd at least hope that if this were a dream, I'd know the right things to say."
"You are saying the right things," she said softly. "Maybe I'm just . . . starting to realize how lucky we are to . . . have a friend like Dawson."
"Well, this clearly doesn't have the desired effect if you're sitting here thinking about Dawson," he said, smiling.
"Dawson brought us together like this," she said. "I don't know how I could ever thank him enough to have the foresight to realize that the shy photographer from Paris could fall so crazily head-over-heels in love with the tough cop from the LAPD who salsa dances."
"So it was the dancing that got you?" he laughed.
"The first time we slow-danced and you laid my hand across your heart . . . I knew," she said softly.
He smiled. "That was all it took?"
"You don't even realize how wonderful a man you are, do you?" she asked, not even realizing that she was echoing his earlier sentiments. She laughed, shaking her head. "You have this wonderfully heroic job that you love, your eyes sparkle whenever you talk about being in love, you have a way of making me feel like I'm the most beautiful, most desirable woman in the world. The things you do, the things you say, they just continue to amaze me."
"Maybe the most beautiful, most desirable woman in the room is the one who's bringing all those things out in me," he said softly.
Her heart was pounding so hard it hurt her chest, the blood was rushing to her ears, making it hard to think. She smiled, moving closer to him. "Have I mentioned that you know all the right things to say?"
His breath was shallow as he raised his sparkling eyes to hers. He kissed her softly. "Right now I don't know what to say," he said, smiling slightly.
She laughed, pulling away from him a bit. "Maybe we should go back to the house," she said. "I'm sure that we'll find something to talk about."
* * * * *
Joey looked around the lavish living room of the house, not sure where to settle as she waited for Pacey. She wandered the room, running her finger along the ledge of the fireplace as she slowly moved. She spun around when she heard the stereo come on, playing a slow, mellow song.
There was a smile on his face as he walked toward her. "What was it you said I did?" he asked softly.
She swallowed and looked up at him seriously. "Well," she began, "you had a hand on my hip." She stopped to watch him place his right hand firmly on her hip. "You held my other hand as we danced," she continued. "Then you brought your hand up to your chest and rested my hand over your heart."
"Like this?" he asked, moving her hand to his heart.
"Yes, and then I did this," she said, resting her head on his shoulder. "I could hear your heart beating then just like I can now."
"Is it going fast?" he asked.
"Not as fast as mine," she said, laughing softly.
"I love you, Jo," he whispered.
She didn't think he would say it first. She'd assumed she would be the one to say it first, and she'd just been waiting for the right time. Her reservations won out this time. "Are you sure about that?" she asked. "It's not even been a week."
"It's been more than a week," he answered.
She was confused, and looked back into his loving eyes cautiously. "What?"
The corner of his mouth twisted into a smile. "You had to know," he began. "I had a crush on you back then."
She nodded her head slowly. "A crush is a far cry from being in love."
He touched the side of her face gently. "I lied the other day at the airport. I was mad at you when you left for Paris. Just because . . . I never thought I got my fair chance." He paused, and looked back to her eyes seriously. "I don't know if I was in love with you then or not, but I could've been with the right chance. Now, I think I am. This time I don't care about my pride or anything else. I had to tell you this time."
"I don't know what to say," she answered softly. "I can't look into your eyes and tell you that I've pined away for you for years."
"You don't have to do that," he interrupted.
She smiled a soft, crooked smile. "What I can tell you," she continued, "is that in the past few days . . . I've found everything I've been looking for in you."
He looked back at her and smiled. "So what's that mean?"
"It means that I love you too," she whispered, laying a soft kiss on his lips.
She pulled away and looked up into his eyes, once again in awe. She couldn't believe this was the man she loved. Everything seemed too perfect, too good to be true. In that moment she wanted everything and nothing from him. She wanted the night to span on forever, an endless mass of glorious thoughts and feelings.
By the look in his eyes, she somehow knew he would make that happen.
* * * * *