Jen, Jack, Pacey and Ethan found themselves on the porch with cookie dough and orange juice. The awkwardness had eased since Jack had found a way to sit next to Ethan without convulsing in nervousness. Jen and Pacey sat across from them in a pair of wicker chairs. She could see Jack’s knee barely touching Ethan’s and she smiled inwardly.
For her part, things were still strained with Pacey. When she looked at his face, she remembered the hurt of the previous month – the moment when she had realized, too late and too fleetingly, that he would never feel for her what she felt for him. It was Joey that Pacey wanted and couldn’t have. It was Pacey that Jen wanted and could have had.
A stray piece of hair fell across Jen’s face and as she turned to brush it away, her eyes caught his. There was a weariness in his eyes, mirroring her own. Describing what had passed each time they had attempted to have sex was an almost impossible task. It was as if the kissing had suddenly become her favorite part of the entire business. She would never have told Pacey this, but just as she had assured him that she felt nothing, her emotions raced inside her, threatening to declare themselves during the act of intercourse. She could lie and lie well, but her body did not lie; she wouldn’t ask it to. Still . . . she wanted more than anything to keep him next to her in bed, so she would not allow him inside her and begged him to keep trying.
In direct contrast with almost every relationship she had ever had, she didn’t want sex from Pacey. Ironic, she thought, that the one relationship that was consequence-free was the one relationship she wanted nothing more from but companionship and innocent hand-holding.
Jack could feel Ethan’s knee against his. His awareness was heightened. There was a wrinkle in Ethan’s khakis that punched into Jack’s knee as if it were a pencil laid between them. Ethan bounced his leg up and down casually, making invisible sparks between their legs. He could hear Ethan talking to Pacey, unimportant talk. He watched Jen trying not to watch Pacey and was finally able to read her face, as baldly as the emotion was displayed therein. Jen was in love with Pacey. There was no doubt in Jack’s mind.
For a moment he almost forgot Ethan next to him. Gently, he heard a voice that awoke him from his pseudo-sleep.
“Do you want to walk down to the dock with me?”
It was Ethan. It was Ethan talking to him. What was he going to say? Nervousness gripped him. He looked at Jen out of habit. Her mouth whispered invisibly to him: go, it seemed to say.
He stood up bravely, telegraphing to Ethan that his answer was yes.
Jen watched Jack and Ethan walk through the dark, down the path to the docks scattered around the creek. She had told him to go. She had wanted him to stay.
Before she knew it, Pacey was behind her with his hands on her shoulders. It was almost more than she could bear. Her back was breaking under the touch of his fingers.
“Can we go inside and talk?”
She nodded silently and stood up behind him, taking him to Jack’s room. She resisted going into her room, knowing that whatever memories she made right now would be vivid ones; she wanted to be able to sleep in her room that night.
“What’s going on between us, Jen?”
She arranged her hands akimbo on her waist and shrugged. “I have no idea.”
Pacey slumped onto the bed. She sat next to him.
“I know that we decided to . . . end this.” Pacey had trouble saying the words.
Jen nodded. “So why do I feel like there’s more here than there ever was before?” The words escaped her lips before she could stop them. It appears, she thought to herself, that the body is not the only thing that can betray.
Pacey stared at her, finally understanding.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been out here,” Ethan told Jack as they made their way down the dock and took a seat, dangling their legs off the edge.
“Really?” It was getting easier, Jack thought to himself. I can look at him. That’s a good sign.
Ethan smiled. “Yeah.”
“Do you miss it?”
Ethan thought for a moment. “It was a hard place for me to live,” he said, giving Jack a knowing glance, to which Jack responded with a sigh. “But of course I miss it. It’s home, you know?”
Jack shook his head, laughing. “I don’t know what I consider home. Or even if I have a home.”
“Sure you do. I mean, I see the way you look at Jen, the way you move around that house. You think of that as your home.”
Jack smiled, impressed with Ethan’s astuteness and giddy that Ethan had been paying so much attention. “Yeah.”
Suddenly, Ethan looked at his watch. “Wow. It’s midnight. Christmas day.”
Jack looked at him blankly.
“Hmm. I guess that saying Christmas day has arrived with a bang has less the desired effect than it would if it were . . . say, New Year’s?” Ethan finished, with a laugh and a portentous look.
Oh my God, Jack thought to himself, he’s going to kiss me.
He did.
Jack fell off the dock. Or he would have, anyway, if Ethan hadn’t grabbed his shoulder. The kiss could not have lasted more than thirty seconds. But, to Jack, it was several days, maybe even a week. Or more. When Ethan’s lips finally left his, Jack gulped a huge breath.
Ethan was immediately shy, something Jack hadn’t seen in him before.
“I’m sorry.”
Jack could not speak. He wanted to speak, but he truly could not. Words refused to form on his lips, where all the blood in his body seemed to be rushing as fast as it possibly could, anticipating internal combustion.
Ethan got up. “I understand. That was totally . . .”
Jack stood up quickly, forcibly willing himself to speak. “No. It was – it was . . .” It was what? What was he going to say?
Ethan began to walk toward the house.
“No!” was all Jack could say. Even that small word barely came out, escaping on the edges of his breathing as it did.
Ethan turned. “Jack, please. I feel incredibly . . . embarrassed right now. Don’t – don’t make it any worse. Please.”
Jack realized he had to make a sentence or this would be the last he would see of Ethan. And that was one thing he absolutely could not stand for.
He ran quickly to Ethan, stopping him with his hand on his arm. He placed it there without any thought; he did it out of pure desperation. Both of them stopped and looked at Jack’s hand, then looked up at each other, smiling in support.
“What I meant to say . . .” Jack went on, trying to finish, “. . . was – well, I wanted to say, um . . . I wanted to say,” he stopped and started over. “Ethan, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Jen, are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?”
Jen breathed in and out slowly, trying to collect herself. After an eternity, she finally spoke: “Yes, I think that what you think I’m telling you is what I am trying to tell you.” The corners of her eyes became immediately wet and tears fell down her face.
“Jen . . . God . . . I don’t know what to say.”
She went on as if he’d never spoken. “The worst part is that it feels like my life runs on a continuous loop. Like everything last year with Dawson was something huge that I had accomplished without killing myself in the process. And now – to . . .” she sighed deeply at the daunting task ahead of her. “And now to know that I’m going to have to do that all again. Well, let’s just say that’s just about the worst thought I’ve had all week.”
Pacey looked at her and then smiled, as if deciding something. Before she could put her hand on his chest to stop him, Pacey pressed his lips to hers and plunged his tongue in her mouth. It rang like the Liberty Bell in her mouth and she tried not to devour it.
What was she so afraid of, anyway? What’s so horrible about this?, she asked herself angrily. Answering just as angrily – because I’ve fallen for Pacey Witter.