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

good night's sleep, I'm sure I'm going to miss ten or twenty really awkward moments that
are bound to happen within the next forty-eight hours, all of which are going to pale in
comparison to the one I'm going to experience if I hang out here anymore. What do I
owe, do you suppose?"
Chris reached up to shake Dawson's hand. "I got it, man."
"Boy," Dawson mumbled with a nod, "you get out of a rich guy's way while he's hitting on
your friend, and you can score free food. If I'm ever poor and alone in a large urban
center, I'm going to remember that as an alternative to doing dishes or singing for my
supper. Later." He waved and walked out.
Jen cleared her throat. "Those are my friends."
"Yeah," Chris smiled and nodded. "They're very interesting."
She stared down at the table. "They're nineteen, you know."
He hesitated. "Yeah. Yeah, I know they are."
She drummed her fingers on the table. "I'm nineteen, too."
His head snapped up, and he stared at her, feigning shock. "No. Really?"
She laughed. "Make fun of me all you want, but you said before that Joey being
nineteen was among the reasons the two of you were just friends."
He frowned. "You know, you're right. I did say that." Chris took a long drink from his
coffee cup. He raised one eyebrow in an exaggerated villainous gesture. "I wonder if
there's some way to buy my way out of this whole issue." When she gave an explosive
chuckle, he went on. "No, really. I mean, I pay people to mow my lawn, I pay people to
cut my hair -- hell, if I didn't want to use the turn signal when I drive, there's somebody
somewhere who would take ten bucks an hour to sit in the passenger seat and operate
it. There's got to be a way I can buy you a few years."
"I don't know," she said, chewing loudly on a piece of ice. "I'm pretty young."
"Well," he countered, "I'm pretty rich."
She stopped chewing and looked at him, suddenly feeling her cheeks turn red. His face
went from a joking smile to a warmer one, and then melted into a sort of fascinated
gaze. "What?" she asked.
"Wow." He slapped his hand on the table. "Wow," he repeated.
She laughed nervously. "What?"
"I'm going to kiss you." He seemed to be making an observation more than an overture
of any kind. "I really am. I'm going to kiss you."