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

"This is taking more than five minutes," Joey complained a little breathlessly as Pacey
sped down the street.
"We're gonna get there soon enough," he responded, vaguely aware that she was
actually squirming in her seat as she spoke to him. "I'm taking you back to the
apartment where you can be ravaged properly. I'm not going to pull over and throw you
against a tree."
There was a long pause. "And why was that again?" She looked at him sideways, not
really sure whether she was kidding or not.
"That was because I waited a year for this," he said hoarsely, making the tires squeal
just a little as they took a turn. "And it's me and you. And we're not doing it somewhere
that I can't even offer you a glass of water or a place to put your shoes. We're having a
serious love scene, here, Josephine, and I'd like it to be memorable for something other
than grass stains. Besides," he smiled a little, "aren't you enjoying this whole
anticipatory want-to-but-can't-yet thing? I know I am."
"Pacey?"
"Yeah?"
"I've had more than a year of want-to-but-can't. If you want the truth," Joey said, forging
ahead in spite of blushing rather madly, "'want-to-but-can't' has been the theme of
practically my entire life since the last time we were together." Her eyes narrowed with
urgency. "I think if I have one more day of want-to-but-can't, I'm either going to build an
anatomically-correct robot copy of you, or I'm going to get arrested for lewd conduct in
public. I don't need a glass of water, and quite frankly, as for my shoes --" She stopped,
then quickly rolled the window down. Reaching for her feet, she slipped off her sandals
and held them up, displaying them to him. With a quick flick of her wrist, she flung them
out the window. The damp summer air roared in her face as she yelled over the noise.
"Am I . . . being clear enough?"
He coughed. "Yeah." He pressed the gas pedal to the floor.
"That's more like it," she said with a small smile, pressing her head back into the
headrest.
Pacey ran three stop signs, narrowly missed a guy crossing the street while talking on
his cell phone, and took six months off the lifespan of his tires, but within two minutes, he
screeched the Jeep to a halt in front of his building. They jumped out of the car
simultaneously, and he ran up the stairs to the door. She was two steps behind, and
wrapped her arms around him from behind as he fumbled with his keys.
"Get the damn door open," she whispered, laughing a little nervously.
He finally got the key in the lock and turned the knob, then pushed the door open. He
turned around and pulled her with him into the apartment, dark except for the dusky light
coming in through the sliding glass doors. She reached back and swung the door
closed. As she turned back to face him, they grabbed for each other, greedily and