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

inadvertent right cross. Seeing him flinch, she laughed. "Don't sneak up on me. I'm
incredibly high-strung right now."
He grinned and nodded. "You can tell I'm being very deferential to how high-strung you
really are, because I'm not taking advantage of even one of the copious jokes that arise
from you declaring yourself to be currently high-strung, as if it's a temporary condition. I
must say, in all fairness, though, that it seems to have been a very successful cocktail
hour. If dinner is any good at all, I think you're in for rave reviews from the masses."
"So," she said, unable to keep an almost-lascivious grin from spreading across her
cheeks. "Tell me about you and Joey. Is everything going the way you hoped?"
Pacey held up his hands, and crossed his fingers. "So far, so good."
"What happens now? Do you move there? Does she come back here?" Andie absently
straightened forks.
He wrinkled his brow. "We haven't actually had that conversation yet," he admitted. "I
guess I was assuming she'd come back. We had said all along, you know, that she was
going to go and figure things out for herself and get some space, but now . . . I assume
she'll come home. It makes the most sense."
"Is it wonderful being back together?" she asked, tugging a wrinkle out of a tablecloth.
He sighed. "McPhee, I gotta tell you the truth. The experience is somewhere in
between going back to replay a casino game you've already lost twenty times and going
back to the only house you've ever lived in after spending a year in a Motel 6."
She turned to face him. "Is that good?"
"Well, the casino is under new management, and they tell me there are new rules, so as
far as I know, yes." He looked fondly at her, suddenly realizing that all of it was real --
this was him, a guest at Andie's engagement party. What a strange feeling it was, he
thought, to experience something that at one time, you would have considered
unthinkable.
"What's wrong?" she said, touching his arm.
"Nothing." He smiled. "I'm just . . . you're really getting married."
"Well, I certainly hope so, because if I'm not, there are a lot of people here to watch a
mediocre band play Rolling Stones covers for the next three hours." She paused and
regarded him for a minute. "Can you believe it? All of us here, like this."
He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "That soccer player of yours is one lucky
French bastard," he said, running his hand over her hair, then pulling back to face her.
"His knees will go, you know."
She shrugged. "Mobility is overrated."