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

It was cold, even for January, and Joey's breath came in sharp white puffs as she wept
into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry," she heard herself repeating over and over. "I'm sorry,
I'm so sorry."
"No, no, no." He felt tears in his eyes, too. "I'm just so happy to see you."
She sniffed and laughed. "You could have seen me a week and a half ago if you had
come to the party."
"I couldn't," he whispered, still into her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I should have come. I
wanted to see you."
Reluctantly, they pulled apart and stared at each other, and he smoothed his thumbs
over her eyebrows. "Are you cold? You must be freezing."
She smiled. "It'll pass."
"Come inside."
***
part eight: spring
She loved the apartment instinctively, because it was him. His Easy Rider poster was
on the living room wall, his Dumbo clock ticked contentedly on top of the TV, and the
whole place smelled like soap and suede and burnt toast, which must have been
breakfast. Joey collapsed onto the worn sofa, which was comfortable in spite of -- or
maybe because of -- the holes in the upholstery and the mild musty scent. She could
hear him in the little kitchenette, opening cabinet doors and running water into the kettle.
"If you're making me a cup of tea," she called, "I'm going to give you a thousand dollars
and write a song about you. I'd be willing to look into the possibility of a national holiday
in your honor."
He emerged smiling, and sat in a mismatched armchair facing her. "I don't even need a
national holiday. I'll be happy if it melts the frost from your nose."
She slipped her shoes and socks off and started rubbing her feet. "More like my toes.
My feet are freezing." She glanced coyly up through her eyelashes at him. "Want to
give me a foot massage?"