I've been in need of some affection
How did I end up in your direction
You're still friends with my ex-boyfriend
I don't know if I was wrong to pretend
That I never thought of me and you as gettin' it on
Just so happens that I'm still all alone
Know that I've turned you down before
But I won't turn you down no more, baby
If you check me out, you can let me know
I'm not gonna fight it if my heart says so
If you wanna put it down, baby, you should know
I'm not gonna fight it no more
I've been thinkin' 'bout your attention
Ever since the day you began to mention
That you wanted me, oh, so very long
Never really knew you were feelin' that strong
It could be confusion with you and your boy
Far as I'm concerned, I ain't there no more
My love it's been enough time
When I can't get you off my mind, my mind, my mind
If you check me out, you can let me know
I'm not gonna fight it if my heart says so
If you wanna put it down, baby, you should know
I'm not gonna fight it no more
I never thought it would ever be real
Can't stop thinkin' 'bout the way I feel, boy
Never thought of it as right before
But I can't let him keep me unhappy no more
Didn't think it would happen to me
Making a decision over history
Is it wrong to be into you, what am I supposed to do
And he's not thinkin' 'bout me, baby
Yeah, don't matter, just don't fight it
Don't Fight It -- Shanice
~*~*~*~*~*~
Things were quiet as we both laid there on our backs in the dark. I rolled over on my side, and I saw he was in a silent contemplation similar to my own. I wanted to speak, but I didn't know what to say.
I just didn't feel like I was where I wanted to be. I didn't want to be on the other side of the bed in the curious silence where I was left with nothing but my own random thoughts. I wanted to be in his arms.
In his arms. That seems like the only place I want to be anymore. Near him. He has a smell. I don't exactly know what it smells like, maybe it's something as simple as his detergent or his shampoo. Somehow, I think it would be safe to say that it's uniquely Pacey.
Dawson didn't have a smell. He has his own distinctions, I suppose; his strong chin, his high cheekbones, his innocent eyes. But those things don't comfort me--they infuriate me.
Most of all, I feel angry with myself for being angry. Just get over it, Joey, I tell myself over and over again. But I just don't seem to want to listen. I think about the situation and I examine it from every possible angle, and I experience no more clarity than I had originally.
Was I in love? Well, I sure as hell thought so. But if I were, I don't think that I would find comfort in another man's arms. Sure I think about Dawson, and I miss Dawson. It's just . . . right now I don't want to be with Dawson. He's the last person I want to be with. For some reason, I feel like my heart has been lying to me all this time.
Pacey's lying there--still, one arm resting behind his head as he stares at the ceiling. When I look at him, I can tell when he's deep in thought. I try to guess what he's thinking, but I have no clue. I wonder if he's as confused about Andie as I am about Dawson. I wonder if he's as confused about us as I am. I wonder if this qualifies as a rebound relationship.
It's not really a relationship. It can't be. I'm still confused about Dawson; he's still committed to Andie. Even though he doesn't say it and even though she won't talk to him, I can tell that he's still committed to Andie.
I'm a victim of culture, because men don't wear their hearts on their sleeves. And I just can't seem to bring myself to ask him about his feelings.
I've always imagined Pacey's head to be very chaotic. Even though he wouldn't want me to, I know that he's cerebral and always thinking. He probably worries constantly, unsure of every move he makes. He keeps his true self hidden deep down, probably feeling like everytime he's been exposed, he's been burned. I rarely get a glimpse inside there, but when I do, I'm always surprised by what I see.
"Pace?" I said softly.
"Yeah?" he asked, turning his head slightly to look at me.
"I had a nice time today," I said. "Thank you . . . for all of it."
"It was my pleasure, Jo," he returned.
His pleasure. Little did he know that it had been my pleasure. That was enough to put a small smile on my lips as I drifted off to sleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Things don't normally drag me out of my sleep. Usually I sleep or I don't. But tonight, I woke. The alarm clock next to the bed read two a.m. and Pacey wasn't in bed with me.
He's standing on the balcony. I'm not sure what he's looking at. In fact, I'm not sure if he's looking at anything. His arms are crossed and he's standing very still. A hard rain began to fall, and he still didn't move. I walked out there, then. I'm not sure why. I could say it was because I was afraid he'd get sick, but I'm sure that's not the reason.
I walked through the French doors, but I stayed behind him. I was drenched from the rain before I finally moved, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. He wouldn't turn around.
"Pace?" I said. It was soft, and really came out as more of a yelp. He still didn't move, and I slowly slid up beside him. I could tell by his red-rimmed eyes that he had clearly been crying. He must've stayed out here to keep me from seeing it. I know he's too proud to let someone see him cry. I stood there, watching the rain wash his tears away. I reached out with my hand, and gently wiped at his cheek. I've cried enough tears in the past few weeks to know that it isn't worth it. And he shouldn't cry. Someone like Andie shouldn't have the power to make him cry. "She's not worth it," I whispered, the words going through my now scratchy throat.
His eyes finally fell on me, and he let his arms fall to his side defeatedly, giving in to the emotions. I'm not sure what he wants, or what he's thinking. All I know is that he shouldn't be alone. I know that he shouldn't be anything but what he wants to be. And I don't have to tell him that for him to know.
The cold, wet rain that was falling on us was long forgotten, and the expression in his eyes reminded me of the same one I saw the other night at the beach. I moved closer to him, and I laid a gentle kiss on his lips.
I expected him to push me away. He didn't. He pulled me closer. His kiss was thorough. For the first time, I felt like he was thinking about nothing else but what was happening. It wasn't passionate. It was . . . comfortable. I felt like nothing could harm me; I felt protected.
I could feel the slightest hint of stubble on his face as I caressed it with my hand. He was moving his fingers leisurely along my ribs with his left hand, his right hand resting securly on my hip. Pacey was so different from Dawson. He seemed so knowledgable and so intense. Most importantly, he seemed so different.
Andie could not have been sane enough to fully enjoy this. He felt so good. He smelled so good. He kissed so well. I felt so lost. I felt like I was treading in a foreign water I never should've entered in the first place.
And I just want to drown.
I could see past Dawson. God, I listen to myself, and I question my own sanity. I'm crazy. I have to be. I close my eyes, and try to absorb every ounce of him. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to question it. I shouldn't have to.
I feel like he should just sweep me up into his arms and carry me to the bed where we would tenderly make love.
And I was disappointed when he didn't.
~*~*~*~*~*~
I woke up in his arms. My first thoughts were of him.
I don't know what's happening to me. I can't bring myself to move. I'm warm with his arms wrapped around me, feeling his breath softly falling on my neck, feeling his heartbeat on my back, feeling his toenail rake my calf as he stirs just a bit.
"Are you awake?" I say softly. I shouldn't have asked. I don't know why I did.
"Yes," he said gently. Neither of us made an effort to move. I didn't want to delve into Pacey's psyche just because I knew it was a place he didn't want me to be. The silence that fell was comfortable, though.
"I wanted you to make love to me last night, Pacey," I said.
God, what was I thinking? That was probably more than either of us needed to think about, and it was definitely more than I wanted him to know.
"We're changing so fast," he said, gently. Mentally, I noted that he never did address my statement. There was more going on in both of our heads then than either of us would've wanted the other to know.
"What's happening?" he asked me softly. I wasn't entirely sure if his question was rhetorical or if he was actually awaiting a response. "What screwed up our lives like this?"
"Love," I mumbled unconsciously. I said it without thinking, but it seemed like the right answer.
It also seemed like the wrong answer. I'm not sure why. I don't know if I loved Dawson. I sure as hell don't know if Pacey loved Andie, or if he still did. But deep down I knew that I meant what I'd just said to him. I'm not sure if he knew that.
"What about you and me?" he asked.
I moved gingerly, because I needed to look into his eyes. Pacey's eyes truly were the window to his soul. They spoke volumes about him. And I knew that. I just didn't know what they said. "I don't want to think about it now," I whispered. "Right now I just want to be here with you."
He kissed me then, and it was everything I remembered from last night. It was a feeling that made every other feeling pale in comparison. That frightens me. The way he makes me feel frightens me.
He makes me feel like a woman. I'm not sure why. Dawson doesn't hold me like this. Dawson doesn't kiss me like he does. Dawson doesn't even look at me the same way. I always saw expectancy in Dawson's eyes. Pacey just accepts everything as it is.
There are so many reasons I shouldn't be with Dawson. The most important being that everyday I stayed with him, I felt like I was losing another small piece of myself.
Now I just had to figure out who I was before it became too late.
Late for what, I'm not sure. It's just a feeling I have.
~*~*~*~*~*~
I tried to soak up the sun, let my eyes lay shut while I let the rest of the world stop. My eyes wouldn't cooperate, though. They kept straying, exercising as if they were watching a tennis match. Pacey had remained in the pool long after I left to lay on a lounge chair. He was swimming back and forth along the farthest edge. Even though he's going no where, it still seems as if he's trying to swim away from something.
I guess that he and I are in two different stages of brokenheartedness, or whatever you'd want to call it. For some reason, I've finally accepted my fate -- I stopped running. He still has something to get away from.
Most likely, it's reality. Some of us just had to learn the hard way: If you don't deal with reality, it deals with you. Painfully enough, I realize that he must love Andie. He has to. That could be the only reason he's torn up like this. I can only imagine what she means to him. She's probably the reason he gets out of bed in the morning. She's probably his whole world. She's probably the reason he didn't respond to my statement this morning.
I was so stupid. I uttered truths that I wasn't sure were truths. We had something good going on here. I couldn't define it, and maybe I didn't understand it, but it was good. It was good for me. It helped me smile or be distracted or feel comforted. Now it's different.
He got out of the pool, finally coming over to where I was sitting and drying off with a towel. He layed it across the chair before he sat down. "I feel better," he said.
"You must've done miles worth of laps," I said.
"I had a lot to get out," he said.
"I noticed," I mumbled. I didn't say anything else. There were lots of questions I wanted answers to, lots of things I wanted to know about him and what he was doing, what he was thinking. But I couldn't bring myself to ask them.
"What are we going to do tonight?" I asked him. This was, after all, supposed to be a vacation from our lives, not an intellectual retreat. This was way too serious for me, and I was tired of thinking.
He shrugged. "I'm not really sure. You'd think there would be a lot of stuff we could do here."
"Well, maybe we should just let the interesting stuff find us," I offered. I felt like I wanted to explore and go out. To see things I didn't see everyday, to do things I didn't do everyday.
He seemed to like that idea.
~*~*~*~*~*~
We ended up wandering around random streets in Atlantic City, and we settled on a cute little hole-in-the-wall soul food restaurant for dinner. Our conversation had remained surprisingly lighthearted, reminding me a lot of the time we had spent in the casino yesterday, before we opened all the baggage from home.
Just as I ate the last spoonful of my rice and black-eyed peas and took the final bite of corn pone, Pacey started on his third bowl of chitterlings. I leaned back in my chair, and lit a cigarette as I watched him enjoy the hell out of his food. "This is great," he said, between bites. "Are you sure you don't want to try it?"
"Not hardly," I said, wrinkling my nose.
"Why not?" he asked.
I snickered. "You don't know what you're eating, do you?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Chitterlings," he said.
My snicker turned into a full-fledged laugh. "Chit'lin's," I said, "are pig intestines."
Pacey's face fell as he looked back at me. "You made that up," he said. I shook my head gently, and I could've sworn at that moment Pacey turned four shades of green.
"What's wrong?" I asked. "I thought you liked them." I really wasn't trying to annoy him, but it seemed so easy to fall back into old habits.
He shook his head. "Nothing's wrong. I just wish that you had waited until I was finished to tell me that," he said, pushing the plate away.
I took another drag from my cigarette, and looked back at him. He seemed so boyishly handsome, and, though I hadn't noticed it before, he really did show confusion on his face.
The silence was rather confortable, considering how awkward it could've been. The scene last night had been incredibly romantic, and I feel like I may have fallen in a trap. I got upswept into all the emotion and the electricity he and I felt as we stood there in the rain, trying to block out the things that had caused us the most pain. I was glad things hadn't changed.
The truth simply was that I was clinging to Pacey as a lifeline, and he seemed to be doing the same thing. I needed him too much.
This seemed to be the first step in a journey, even though I'm not sure of the destination. The one thing I know is that I'm glad I'm not on it alone.
~*~*~*~*~*~