True Love Tales

Expect The Unexpected


Part 1

It’s cold in this draughty library, and here, in the philosophy section where i‘m hiding I can feel the breeze from a constantly open window, too high to close. I rarely come to this part of the library; I’m usually over in the English section by the computers talking across the shelf to Dawson in the adjacent media section about his latest drama, but I can’t handle him today.

I’m not interested in philosophy, if anything it bores me half to death, but I needed to get away from them; Dawson, Jen, Pacey and of course Satan’s spawn herself, Abby Morgan. It’s not even my fault that I’m in detention; it’s all the fault of male chauvinists who irritate me about talking about concubines and sex slaves, if anything it’s societies fault that I’m here. It’s been the longest day I have ever experienced; having to watch Dawson and Jen as they play tonsil hockey is excruciating and his lack of awareness is ridiculous. He thinks he knows everything but he knows nothing; at least he knows nothing about me, not anymore anyway.

So as I walk through this chilly section, full of old books that nobody cares enough to pick up, I trail my fingers along the shelf, watching the dusty residue build up on my fingertips, turning my skin a grimy shade of grey. Looking down at my hands I blow the dust away, watching it as it lingers in the air before falling to the ground and settling somewhere else. I can’t handle this anymore; I’m bored out of my skull and I just want the time to pass quickly; I want to be somewhere else, anywhere else but here. Sometimes I wish I could just close my eyes and think myself away; maybe even change bodies with someone else; if only I could forget who I am I think I would be happy.

I exhale a breath as I lean back onto the shelf and let my backpack slide from my shoulder, I sit down beside it, tucking my knees to my chest and resting my chin on them. I count in my head and the time passes slower than it did a few moments ago, one single tick of the clock seeming like an hour and I know these last ten minutes will bd hell. I never thought I’d look forward to work, but if it gets me out of here then I don’t care. It seems like it should be time to go now; I gaze desperately up at the clock on the wall and pray that at least a minute has passed since I last looked; it hasn’t.

I can’t help but think of Dawson; I don’t know why but I just can’t. For once I’m not thinking about him because I want to, but because of how much he has pissed me off today. He’s annoying me; right now he’s annoying me more than he ever has before. His obliviousness is getting to a stage of total selfishness now and I just wish I could tell him how much I feel like dragging him by his hair to the washroom, sticking his head down the toilet and flushing it just for fun. It’s cruel; it’s not like I don’t know its cruel because I do, I just hate him so much right now. I hate him for his obliviousness, I hate him for his selfishness and I really hate him for the way that he treats his friends. I honestly don’t know how Pacey forgives him for raying the things that he does. To take someone’s number one fear and all his insecurities and attack him in front of everyone is cruel to a new level and I don’t even know how he can call himself a friend, especially not a best friend.

I hate Dawson leery right now, it’s an obsession I know, but I do; I hate him. I hate him for being so oblivious; oblivious to reality, oblivious to how hurtful his words can be and oblivious to everyone else’s feelings. He dido’t even know what I was trying to say when I said it; he didn’t’t understand why I was upset. How is it that even a philistine like Pacey can understand me and he can’t? He’s meant to be my best friend and as I sit here thinking of why Dawson doesn’t’t understand I know that Pacey isn’t a philistine; Dawson is. Why didn’t the philistine understand? Doesn’t he care about anyone but himself? I don’t know whether he’s just blocking out reality or if he really is that self absorbed.

I can’t bear to think of him anymore; thinking of him is making me `ngry and it makes me want to cry; I want to cry because Dawson just doesn’t seem like the boy I once knew.

A painful thud to the back of my head takes my mind away from him and i rub the sore spot where I, for some unknown reason, threw my head back against the shelf. It hurts, a hard thumping in my skull and I’m almost thankful for the painful interruption. I look up at the clock and some time has passed, although not a significant amount. Ten minutes, ten minutes and I can get out of here, even if it is only to work, at least it’s somewhere.

“Hey,” someone speaks to me and I know the voice well; it’s a voice that’s been bugging me since he could talk, but I’m almost happy to hear it; almost. I gaze to the ground and if his voice leaves any doubt in my mind his sneakers certainly don’t . They’re dirty things, a grimy white with the laces untied, dragging on the ground in the way they have always done. “So are you looking for a philosophical discussion point or are you hiding?”

“It’s nothing that concerns you Pace,” I tell him, finally looking up at him as he gazes down at me, with his hands casually in his pockets, smiling at me; he’s always smiling at me before he insults me. I’m expecting an insult and I put myself on guard, something about Pacey Witter always prompts me to be on guard and have my sharp tongue ready.

“Come on,” he probes letting his backpack fall to the ground beside mine with a gentle thump. “I’m curious,”

“Why do you care?” I ask, looking up at him with a genuine question. “shouldn’t you and Dawson be fighting over a bone somewhere minus your shirts in some stupid macho display game like the dogs that you and all guys are?” I snap, glaring at him, narrowing my eyes and awaiting his witty remark that I’ll have to reply to with the best insult I can think of. I guess that’s just the way we operate. He says hi, I insult him then he insults me back; its how we work and its how we always have; we’ll probably always operate in that way. Sometimes our witty repartee is the only secure thing about my life and in many ways, so is he. I can always rely on Pacey to be Pacey and never to move the goalposts. Pacey Witter is an enemy with an eternally wonderful friendly side; even when I hate him I can’t help but like him and I hate him for that. However, right now, sitting here looking at him looking at me, I know I’m glad he’s here.

“Ouch, someone’s bitter,” Pacey mumbles, sitting beside me and leaning against my shoulder; I know he’s not intending on moving away any time soon.

He sits as silent as I do for a moment; I can almost hear those rusty cogs inside his head processing a thought and I think he’s going to speak when he opens his mouth, but he closes it without a word and releases a long breath. It’s a few minutes before he speaks finally. The process is different than usual; he gives me a look, it’s not a look of mischief or even sarcasm, but a soft look with gentle eyes and a tender smile. He bites his bottom lip and lets it slip between his teeth, causing it to glirten and turns slightly to look at me before he finally speaks.

“y’know…” he starts to speak but pauses after the first word, I think he’s expecting me to cut him off mid-sentence but I want to let him speak; I’m curious.

But he doesn’t speak, he leaves it hanging in the air; unspoken words make the air tense and almost intolerable.

“Will you just speak if you’re going to speak or leave me alone if you’re not?”

“He’s gonna come around,” Pacey says, waiting for my response. I don’t want to talk about this and I let my head fall to my chest. “Someday he’ll come around, regardless of the fact that he’s obsessed with someone else right now. He will become obsessed with you… I can almost guarantee it ”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about but whatever it is would you mind not talking about it somewhere else and leave me the hell alone,” Snapping at him I want to walk away but I know he sees right through me and there’s no point in moving.

“Oh come on,” Pacey scrunches up his face and I know he can tell I’m feigning denial. “You know what I’m talking about; your unhealthy obsession all things Leery,”

And as he speaks I immediately want to hurt him. I feel so humiliated, so transparent and I can’t believe he’s sitting here pitying me like this, pretending to play the best friend when I know all he really wants is to embarrass me.

“Will you just shut up!”

“I’m sorry but it’s true; you’re so obsessed with Dawson Leery that you can’t see past it. He’s with Jen right now but one day he’ll come around and see you for what you are,”

I consider hitting him, I really do, but instead I just drop my head. He can read me like a book; I do want Dawson, he is right about that, but I don’t even know why anymore. Taking a deep breath I drop my head again and look at my nails, embarrassed to be talking to him about this.

“And what am i?” I find myself asking, taking my gaze away from my fingernails and looking at him. I expect to see a satisfied grin or even a ‘haha, I knew I was right’ glint in his eye, but I see neither of those things. I see him; I see him looking at me with those soft eyes and a tender smile. He places his hand on my shoulder and grips it lightly, making me want to talk about it. “I mean apart from a larger brain, higher IQ, virginity still in tact and less peroxide… what do I really have that she doesn’t?”

“Well…,” he sighs heavily, looking at me, taking a moment to chuckle, although I don’t know why. “When you’re not being an evil wench with a personality disorder and an unhealthy—and slightly psychotic-- obsession with sticking a screwdriver through my neck…you’re beautiful to a jaw dropping level, smarter than most, and sweet,”

I do something I can’t believe; I smile lightly at him as he speaks to me, even with all the insults I can’t help it. There was something about that which makes me want to thank him for it, although a big part of me that doesn’t want to show it.

“He’s gonna wake up from his Spielberg induced fantasy world someday and see what’s right in front of him; he’r going to see just how great you are and you’ll get what you’ve always wanted,” I open my mouth to cut him off, to deny it and to tell him he’s wrong, but he wont let me; he stops my sentence before It can even start “don’t pretend its not what you want because I see right through you,”

I smile in silence for a moment and shoot him a lopsided grin, a little embarrassed but more thankful for his kindness than anything else. I nudge his shoulder to show some gratitude; hugging him would be plain wrong. And for a moment, somewhere out the blue, I see him. I see Pacey Witter as he is and for what he is; there’s a spark there in the cold library in the dull unused philosophy section; a temptation almost, like a surge of electricity as my body touches his and I see his eyes looking into mine. It’s a strange moment and I don’t even know if he realizes it but my mind literally goes vacant of rational thought for a minute as I contemplate my next move. I could kiss him, I truly could or I could speak, but I have to do something. I need to make things normal again, I’m too comfortable looking into his eyes, I’m so comfortable that I’m tense. I see him swallowing a lump in his throat and his fingers brush mine. It happened again; that surge of electricity that manages to rid my mind of anything, or anyone else.

“Although,” I say quickly as I move away from his shoulder needing to do something to disrupt the moment. “in my defense I’m only an evil wench with a personality disorder and an unhealthy—and slightly psychotic-- obsession with sticking a screwdriver through your neck because you’re an sarcastic jackass with no positive personality traits who—nine times out of ten—deserves a screwdriver shoved through his jugular with a force only a bitter, slightly psychotic wench could muster,”

“That’s fair—scary—but fair,”

The moment has passed and we’re back to normality, bantering like the professionals that we are. It doesn’t feel strange but I’m a little freaked out by it all. How can we just go from one extreme to another in a matter of minutes; seconds even? And as he looks at me he smiles, not in the bright way I’m used to but in a different way; it’s almost as if his normal smile has shattered somehow. I don’t know; all I know is that we’re stuck in a moment of pristine silence. It’s agonizing, yet I can’t bring myself to move from the spot.

Pacey doesn’t move either; he sits there beside me thinking of god knows what.

“So, where’s Dawson?” I ask, just to get back to normality but as soon as I speak I know I shouldn’t have. It seems to do the trick though because he shakes his head as if he was shaking out a thought and sighs before looking at me in his normal way.


“How can he be gone?” I ask him, a little baffled. “There’s still five minutes left, how did he escape early?”

“Actually that clock’s wrong,” he tells me pointing to his wristwatch. “It’s a quarter past,”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I thought you might like a ride,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Do you?”

I consider it, but the prospect of being with him alone for the seven minute car journey to the icehouse is unbearable. Usually I’d let him drive me but after the strange experience I’ve just had I known that it would be a mistake to be alone with him for longer than a minute or two. It’s peculiar how, in one moment, all my feelings for him, all my expectations can change. It’s like the earths balance has shifted, as if my wish to forget Dawson had been answered only to come with the side effect of having this strange attraction and pull towards his best friend and my mortal enemy.

“Thanks for the offer, “I tell him, sighing heavily “But I might just walk it… y’know it’s not far and it’s out of your way,”

“Okay,” Pacey said, standing up and offering his hand to me. “But don’t say I never offer,”

I take his hand and he helps me to my feet but I retract it quickly, scared to hold on any longer.

“Thanks for the offer,”

“I’ll see you Monday,” he says as he picks up his backpack and walks away from me. I hear the door close and bang my head against the wall, cursing myself. I don’t know what’s wrong with this philosophy section but it may have very well made my life a lot more complicated.

“Why?” I moan as I hit my head on the wall in front of me. “What’s wrong with me? I already have one obsession why do I want another one,”

“Well that was nice and Cozy,” I hear a voice from behind me and I turn around, narrowing my eyes at Abby Morgan as she stands there, hand on her hip and a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Go away Abby,” I say, picking up by backpack and heading out of the library, down the corridor. I can hear her behind me, her shoes making a clicking sound as she runs to keep up with me

“God did I get it wrong,” she says, walking towards me and circling me like a vulture. “Here I was thinking that little miss convicts daughter had a thing for batman when its been robin all along,”

“I’m warning you Abby, one more word and I swear I’ll rip out our tongue and strangle you with it,” I clench my teeth, trying desperately to keep my anger under control.

“But I suppose Robin does have better thighs,” she paused for a moment to enjoy my reaction and I narrow my eyes at her, balling my fists. Mrs Tingle is watching us and I know if I slapped her I’d just be here again next week; although I think it would almost be worth it.

“Batman has the brains but robin definitely has the brawn don’t you think?”

“If you don’t shut your moth I swear I’m going to tell the whole school just what you were in here for,”

“So I was in for tardiness, so what? Big whoop,”

“Okay so that’s no big scandal but I can always make something up, how do you feel about herpes?” I ask her narrowing my eyes at her and thinking of all the ways to torture her towards a long and painful death.

“I don’t know,” she responded turning up her nose. “How was your experience with it?”

“Okay,” I sigh heavily and turn to look at her. “You are on very thin ice Abby and I swear that you are this close to having me do the world a favor and strangle you before hiding your body somewhere that nobody will ever find it so why don’t you just shut up and get the hell out my face before I do something I will not regret,”

“Take a chill pill,” Abby says as she walks away from me. “Oh and if you can’t find one you could always ask daddy,”

I want to kill her but I let her walk away, its times like this that I wish my empty threats weren’t so empty.

I walk outside and my bad day gets worse; rain. Rain isn’t a tragedy but when I have five minutes to do a fifteen minute walk added to the fact that the world keeps handing me lemons when I have no idea how to make them into lemonade… It just seems like the worst day ever.

“Do you want that ride yet?” Pacey asked, pulling up beside me in his father’s cruiser and opening the window. I look at the sky, heavy and grey before looking at him as he gazes over at me, offering me a ride and shelter from the rain. I get inside the car and it doesn’t seem like the worst place to be; seven minutes with him really can’t be that bad. What’s the worst that could happen?

Part 2 here

Enter supporting content here