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“I know we’re done, I know we’re through, but God when I look at you...” -- bad idea, right? by Olivia Rodrigo
Joey had always been more than a little neurotic, she could admit that. Impulsive too, though she liked to believe she had squashed the instinct to respond to everything immediately and emotionally when she matriculated into her sophomore year. The newer, freer version of herself she had grown into still had moments of neuroses but she managed to keep them in check.
Then, Dawson came back from Los Angeles.
If they hadn’t slept together on her birthday eve, or even if they did but she never found out about you-know-who, she thinks they could have salvaged it. Whatever it was, she was never truly ready to define. Their future, their friendship, their romance, their potential...who cares? It was so over it could never begin again, that much was clear.
The days were easy enough to get through, and she was busy enough that she could pretend everything was still the same. As if she was still the carefree, intellectually brilliant student that could charm her way into the hearts of professors and research assistants alike, and her heart wasn’t breaking the longer they went without speaking. School had always been a welcome distraction, but now it was more than that. Reading and writing was the best way to keep her brain from playing a montage of all of their greatest hits; running in the rain under his jacket, leaning against him in her tiny boat as they paddled up the creek, tasting his lips...
Stop. She forced her thoughts to stop racing, “Hey, Audrey, you haven’t seen my yellow tank top anywhere, right?”
Audrey looked back at her quizzically, “Nope. I don’t know why we’re doing spring cleaning now anyway Joey. It’s Fall! The semester just started, our dorm barely has any dust...” she continued to whine.
Her complaints made Joey smile, Audrey’s laziness was predictable and a welcome reprieve from where her mind was wandering. “I just think it’s a good idea to start out the semester organized, that’s all,” she reasoned.
“You have serious OCD issues Joey,” Audrey huffed, “I hope you get to enjoy the spotless dorm this weekend at least.”
“What do you mean?”
“I didn’t tell you? Pacey and I are going into the city to celebrate our 3 month anniversary!” Audrey beamed, and as she relayed her excitement, the details slowly started falling into place. Oh yeah, Audrey’s been making innuendos all week... Joey forced a smile, “That’s great! You guys will have an amazing time together.”
“Oh, it’ll be amazing alright. I’ve been reading up on some Cosmopolitan, Pacey Witter won’t know what hit him!” Audrey’s enthusiasm elicited a true laugh from Joey, and the rest of the afternoon went by quickly since the girls were in a rush to finish cleaning up before Audrey left for her trip.
After grabbing dinner with Jack and settling into her night time routine, Joey found herself reading the same line in The Alchemist over and over again. She sighed, frustrated and slightly annoyed at how predictable her feelings of missing Dawson came at night. It’s as if all the self-control and effort she exerted throughout the day gave way immediately after midnight--like a broken spell. Usually, she at least had the comfort of Audrey or another one of her friends by her side that she could put a mask on around and ramble until the lull of sleep came.
There’s no point in thinking about this, she reminded herself, you don’t even want to see him. Which was true, she had successfully avoided all his calls and somehow got a heads-up any time he would be on campus while visiting from L.A., so she could expertly maneuver without running into him. While avoidance had always been a downfall of their relationship, this time it felt warranted, and like the mature choice to make. Besides, she already knew Dawson was sorry, and that he never meant to hurt her. But she was tired of all their misunderstandings and the psychobabble that their conversations always ended in. Layers of subtext and history she simply did not feel like reliving anymore. No more Dawson Leery, that was final.
Of course--this assertion appeared to be limited to her sober self--half an hour and 3 glasses of Audrey’s expensive, emergency sauvignon blanc later, and she was dialing the third phone number she had ever learned by heart.
“Hello? Jo?” His voice was eager, full of surprise and anticipation, he had been beginning to think that he would have to plot an elaborate trap if he ever wanted to see his best friend again.
“Hi, are you, uh, in town?” she asked quietly, as though she wasn’t the one who initiated the call.
“So it’s really you, huh? You have no idea how much I missed your voice, I’m so sorry Joey I should’ve never--”
“Dawson, stop.” This time, her voice was sure, and issued a command that was immediately obeyed. In the half a second before she spoke again, Dawson thought his heart would give out. Of course, what she did say left him more shocked than ever.
“Come over.”
//
What the hell are you thinking? She wondered to herself, pacing between Audrey’s bed and her own. The answer was simple: she wasn’t thinking. At some point between starting her third glass of wine and finishing it, she knew she had to talk to him.
Still, even she couldn’t have predicted what she would say, much less that she would tell him to come over to her dorm. Am I a masochist or something? Maybe I just live for pain. Of course that was far from the truth, which was that the true pain of cutting Dawson out of her life was infinitely worse than her panic attack now that he was actually on his way to see her.
He came quicker than she expected, or maybe being tipsy had ruined her sense of time. And now that he was standing before her, his dark, green eyes all wide and alarmed, she knew she didn’t stand a chance.
“Hi Jo, uh... thank you for inviting me.” Has his voice always been that gruff? Or was it something she only noticed now, after knowing what it felt like to have him whisper into her ear, That’s right, keep going Jo... as he steadily guided her hips over him.
“Hi, um, yeah, thanks for coming,” she said, in a rush, and opened the door further so he could enter. Her face felt beet red from her thoughts, and the tight polo sweater he wore was doing her no favors. Why the hell did you do this? She chided herself again.
“I’m glad I can apologize in person again, Jo, it was never my intention to hurt you or to keep her hidden from you. I think I just got carried away, I mean it’s hard not to when I come around you,” he was rambling desperately, hoping that somewhere in his train of consciousness she would see that what he truly meant: that their love was leaps and bounds ahead of any such romantic experience with anyone else, that that night they shared played on a constant loop in his mind, and that he would do anything to be able to make it right between them.
“Dawson, stop.” Her commands surprised her, but she didn’t let it show, she just couldn’t help it. “I didn’t call you over here to rehash what happened or for you to apologize for the hundredth time.”
“So why did you call?” His breath hitched, did she call him over to formally renounce their friendship? To say the words he most feared, because he knew a part of him deserved it, that she truly never wanted to see him again?
“For this.” The next thing she knew her arms were wrapped around his neck as she slipped her tongue in his mouth all too easily. Kissing Dawson was as easy and instinctive as breathing air. She had dreamt about it a million times, and somehow it still never compared to the sensation of reality. His hands somehow always knew where to touch her, how to make a brush of his fingers at the small of her back feel like she had just been electrocuted.
Dawson could barely believe he wasn’t dreaming himself, but it was only in moments like these that he could finally shut off the parts of his brain that always thought way too much. With his arms wrapped around her waist, trailing underneath the light pink camisole he had pretended not to notice upon seeing her, there was nowhere else he felt more himself.
“Take it off, Dawson,” she whimpered into his ear, and from there, he couldn’t tell you where he began and she ended. Miles of sticky kisses and moans of submission followed until all that was left was the two of them staring at each other, embraced under her maroon bedsheets.
While she was unable to fully articulate what she wanted before, now she knew: “If I give you another chance, you really can’t break my heart Dawson.”
“Jo, I will never--”
“No, listen. It’s not going to be enough that you never intended to hurt me,” now she was looking straight into the same green eyes she had melted for, “If you hurt me again, we’ll really be through. It’ll be hell, but I’ll get through it, and you will never, ever hear from me. I need you to know that, okay?”
He saw her steadfast resolve and knew she was telling him the truth, and that if he did lose her it would be the biggest mistake of his life. “I know Joey, I know.”
Right before she fell asleep in his arms, all Joey could think was: This was either the best or worst idea I’ve ever had in my entire life.