Beyond the Pale

"There was no warning whatsoever," Pacey Witter said. He and Joey Potter were sprawled under a tree on the Capeside High campus at lunchtime. They were discussing Pacey’s breakup two days ago with Tatiana, his girlfriend of six months.

"You mean she just said, ‘Oh, by the way, Pacey, you’re history?’" Joey raised an eyebrow at him.

"Close enough," Pacey said. "She didn’t even give me a reason why." He scowled. "Not that I needed one after I saw her in the lunchroom yesterday with her tongue in Grant’s ear."

"Oh, gross, Pacey," Joey moaned, putting one hand over her stomach. "I just ate."

"She would barely put her tongue in my mouth, and there she was lubing his earwax."

"I’m not kidding," Joey said. "I feel kind of ill!" She leaned back on one elbow.

"Okay, okay, I’ll stop." Pacey smiled ruefully at her. "I keep forgetting that you’re...inexperienced."

Joey let that one pass. She didn’t need to be reminded of the fact that she was 17 years old and there were no romantic prospects in sight.

She and Pacey had been getting along remarkably well for the past two days, ever since Joey’d decided that she was going to be his friend and confidante. It seemed strange not to be trading insults. Maybe when he feels better, Joey thought charitably, we’ll get back to normal. "Oh, no," Pacey said suddenly. He looked stricken.

"What?" Joey demanded.

"I want to die," Pacey groaned.

Joey was alarmed. "Let’s talk about this. You’ve been dumped by a neurotic Russian girl for an empty-headed jock. Sure, it hurts now, but things will get better."

"No, that’s not what I meant," Pacey said. "Tomorrow night is the French II dinner in Harborton. It’s a class requirement that we go. So I’ll have to spend the whole evening watching Tatia suck face with Grant."

"Grant doesn’t take French," Joey said, confused. She knew because he was in her Spanish II class, unfortunately.

Pacey sighed. "The second year class is so small that the teacher said we could bring a friend, or a date, if we wanted to. The foreign language department is even paying for it. We’re all meeting at this swanky French restaurant. I want to die," he said again.

"I don’t know why you wanted to take French instead of Spanish, anyway," Joey commented.

"French is the language of love, Joey," Pacey said dryly. "For all the good it’s done me."

"Harborton’s about an hour from here, isn’t it?" Joey asked. "I’ve never been there."

"Yeah." Pacey looked gloomy. "So I’m facing an hour’s drive by myself on a Friday night, a horrible dinner eating snails and obsessing over Tatia, who thinks I’m pond scum, then an hour’s drive back. Could someone just kill me now, please?"

"Snails?" Joey asked.

"We get extra credit if we eat an escargot," Pacey told her.

"You know, Pacey," Joey said thoughtfully, "you may not like this idea, but you don’t have to go by yourself."

"I’m waiting," Pacey said, looking at her hopefully.

"It won’t be the big romantic spit-swapping experience you were hoping for with Tatiana," Joey said, "but if you wouldn’t think it was too much of an ordeal being seen with me in public...I could go with you."

"You’d do that for me?" Pacey asked.

Joey shrugged. "Well, my hot date with the male stripper fell through, so I’m free."

"Ha, ha," Pacey said. "You do know you’ll have to dress up."

"You say that like you think I can’t." Joey was miffed. "I am a girl, you know. I have all of the standard female accessories."

"I know," Pacey told her. "I remember the Miss Windjammer pageant our sophomore year - your accessories were quite well displayed." He grinned. "I think that’s the first and last time I ever saw you dressed up."

"Your point would be?" Joey said. She suddenly felt depressed. Why did everyone place so much importance on appearance? She was clean and her clothes always matched. So she didn’t care for makeup, and she didn’t like and couldn’t afford designer clothes. So what?

"There isn’t one," Pacey said. He looked quizzically at her. "It was just a comment."

He could be a little more grateful, Joey thought petulantly. She sat up, looking away from him. She would’ve liked to tell him what he could do with his comments.

She sensed a puzzled silence from Pacey’s direction. A couple of minutes later he sat up. She still didn’t look at him.

"Joey?" Pacey leaned close to her. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Joey said. When, she wondered, was she going to meet a guy who didn’t place all the emphasis on how sexy a girl dressed, or if she had big breasts?

"Just in case you were wondering," Pacey said, his breath warming her ear, "I didn’t overlook the fact that you’re female."

"I’m glad to know that," Joey said snippily. What was wrong with her? She knew that she was being shamelessly bitchy, but she couldn’t stop herself.

"Hey, Joey?" Pacey said.

Joey could hear the mischief in his voice. "Yeah?" she asked.

"Did you really think what I said earlier was gross?"

"You mean about having someone’s tongue in your ear?" Joey said. "Yes, I thought it was disgusting." She was lying. Actually, she was madly curious, never having experienced such a thing.

"It doesn’t have to be," Pacey whispered. "It can be kind of...sexy."

Joey felt a strange little shiver in the pit of her stomach. She drew in her breath, fighting the urge to bite her lip. He was teasing her, and she knew it. She didn’t want him to know how he was affecting her.

"I could show you sometime, if you want," Pacey said.

Joey imagined his hot tongue plunging into the well of her ear, his teeth gently nipping her earlobe. The thought was almost more than she could take. Pacey Witter was just too cruel to torment a sexually inexperienced seventeen-year-old girl with such ideas!

"You’re pushing it, Pacey," Joey said, collecting herself. "You’d better behave if you still want me to go with you tomorrow."

Joey climbed through Dawson’s window after dinner that night. He was sprawled on his bed doing some heavy channel-surfing, and the second he saw her, he said, "I hear you and Pacey are going out." He smirked.

"Dawson," Joey said, stopping where she stood. "Get a life. We are not going out. This is not a date. He just got dumped, and I’m trying to be a friend. Okay? Any more questions?" "I guess not," Dawson said, amused by her vehemence.

"What’re we watching?" Joey asked, flopping down on the bed beside him.

"There’s nothing on," Dawson complained. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

"As long as you choose it," Joey said. She pillowed her head on her arms.

Joey had no idea what movie she was staring at. Her thoughts wandered far beyond the small screen, beyond Dawson’s room in Capeside, Massachusetts. When was her life going to change for the better? She was tired of being an ordinary, unexciting high-school girl without even a boyfriend.

Joey stole a quick glance at Dawson. He was totally engrossed in the movie. Did he ever feel the lack of a relationship? He’d been on several dates in the past year and a half, but not one of them had led to anything more. Dawson didn’t seem to care. He inhabited a world all his own.

Must be nice, Joey thought. She wanted something, anything to happen. She wanted to stop thinking about Pacey’s little ear-nibbling remark. Why did he have to be such a perv? So pathetic....

Joey frowned. Why couldn’t she just admit that the very thought of someone, even Pacey, doing that to her turned her on? Estrogen overload. Hormone stew. She needed to stop thinking. She needed to know who was responsible for these strange feelings she’d been having for the past couple of days, so she could shoot them.

Joey rolled over onto her back, no longer even pretending to watch the movie, and stared at the ceiling. When, oh when, was she going to find the right guy?

Why, oh why did she have the unsettling feeling that she already had?

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