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

could go, she rocked back and forth on her feet impatiently. The music slowed and
stopped. She felt the hush, the rush of air that seemed to go through her from feet to
fingertips, and then it happened. The doors swung open from the other side, and she
stared ahead. New music. Different music.
A room full of people turned around to look at you is a strange thing indeed, she had
time to think. She began to take slow steps, not even taking the time to worry that she
would trip over her feet. People she knew from Boston, women who had been friends of
her mother, people who worked for Pacey's father, men who had washed dishes at the
Icehouse when they were boys, women whose hair Pacey had pulled when they were
girls. They turned and watched her, and she looked at their faces, and she felt
beautiful. A familiar flush of affection hit her as she skimmed her eyes over Andie's
giddy grin, Jen's warmly satisfied smile, and Bessie's brimming tears. Doug was
grinning stoically, if such a thing was possible. Jack was still just as awkwardly
appealing as he'd been the first day she met him. She saw Dawson's eyes on her, then
they flicked into the crowd, bringing a brighter, conspiratorial smile to his face.
Somewhere in this room is his girl, she thought.
And Pacey. She thought she'd known what to expect. She'd seen him in a tux before,
at parties and weddings and things, and she'd seen him happy before. But somehow
this collision of how perfectly beautiful he looked and how perfectly happy he looked
knocked the breath out of her for a minute. She knew she was smiling, but she also
knew that however she looked, it wasn't doing justice to how she felt. She stared at the
scar on his cheek, even though she couldn't see it yet -- she fixed her eyes on the spot
where she knew it was. Oh, we both have so many of those, she thought with a twinge
of sadness. She had left him, he had refused her, they had made so many mistakes in
so many different ways -- wise and foolish, rational and irrational, overly analytical and
blindly devoted, they had blundered forward one way or another, and now they were
here. Long roads, her father would have said, require great traveling companions. It
was true.
***
He didn't believe in the whole thing about not seeing the dress before the wedding. As
soon as she reported that she'd found it -- in a shop in Boston with Jen -- he had asked
to see it. "What if it doesn't go with my tux?" he had demanded. "What if it doesn't go
with the decor? What if I just don't like it?" These things were all impossible, of course,
but damn, he'd wanted to see that dress. Back then, it was six months before the
wedding, and he didn't think he could wait that long.
Joey had held firm. "I've done plenty of defying convention," she said with a shrug, "but
at this point, I'm willing to take any help I can get, whether paranormal or not." So he
had waited. He had complained regularly -- You can't honestly believe our future is
going to be affected by whether or not I see your dress -- but he had waited. And now
he was glad.
He thought he knew what brides looked like, for the most part. Wedding dresses have
so much in common that they often struck him as more alike than different. He knew
she'd look beautiful, because she always looked beautiful, but he had also started the