SOS by Glory, Girl Writer.pdf - Dawson's Creek Fandom Wiki

"Hey, if she can wear a dress that costs as much as my car, despite the fact that she's
never going to wear it again, I can give myself all the credit I want for looking just as
good for a much more reasonable price."
"You certainly are an incurable romantic." Jack smoothed the front of his own crisp
white shirt, then clamped his hand on Pacey's shoulder. "You ready?"
"Uhhh, I'm getting there." Pacey grinned and checked his reflection one more time. "Did
you make sure Doug has the ring?" he asked in a low voice.
"He has it. I checked twice. I asked him once in English, and once in Spanish, and then
I made him show it to me, and then I hid it and made him describe it to me, and then I
made him ask for it nicely, and then I gave it back to him. He has it." Jack gave a
broad, brisk, thoroughly sarcastic thumbs-up. "We're a go for launch."
Pacey clenched and unclenched his fists, starting to walk around the little room
restlessly. "God," he muttered, "this is all just a little too much to take in."
"What? The wedding? Just remember that in an hour, the part where everybody
watches you with an eagle eye hoping you do something embarrassing will be over, and
we'll be on to the part where everybody watches everybody else get drunk and hopes
somebody else will do something embarrassing before they do. And then tomorrow, you
and Joey will be winging your way across the Atlantic." Jack picked a piece of lint off
Pacey's elbow. When Pacey turned to look at him, Jack shrugged. "You had a thing on
your arm. I didn't think you wanted the most expensive pictures anybody's ever going to
take of you to feature a thing on your arm."
Pacey sat down in a worn armchair and ran his hands over his hair. "I just feel like this
is all going to go so fast, you know? I'm barely going to get to see anybody, because
wedding receptions are . . . they're like the Olympics. You just go from one event to
another without any time to appreciate what's going on in the background. I mean,
everybody I really care about is going to be in the same room at the same time, and I
don't feel like I'm going to be able to enjoy it."
Jack pulled a chair over and sat down opposite Pacey. "You'll be able to enjoy it."
Pacey shook his head. "I wish I were as sure as you are."
Jack leaned forward. "Okay, let me play filmmaker for a minute."
"Oh, for God's sake, Jack, are you turning into Dawson now? If you quote me
something from some Spielberg movie, I'm going to hang your stuffed head on the wall
of my apartment."
"Look, just bear with me. Close your eyes." Pacey snorted with disgust, then obeyed. "I
want you to make a movie in your head. Picture yourself at the wedding reception,
right? You're there, you're in your tux . . . "