Theory Of Convergence: Veronica Mars: V/L
Title: Theory of Convergence
Chapter: [8] Look Like Something - Part 1
Author:
tlace
Pairing/Character: Veronica/Logan, Veronica/Duncan, Logan/Lilly, with appearances by, pretty much, every Marsverse character ever
Word Count: 5605
Rating: R - Swearing, suggested drug-use and adult situations.
Summary: WIP begins pre-series, Veronica’s birthday is the jumping off point. Veronica and Logan are left behind when the Kane kids unexpectedly leave for the summer
Spoilers: Season 1
Warnings: Each part will have its own rating
Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of Veronica Mars. No copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: A million fangirl thanks to Heather (
heather13 ) & Roz (
afrocurl ) for the beta help on this chapter!
This chapter is too large for one post so it is cut in two. ( one & two)
Staring out at the tarmac of the Balboa County Regional Airport, Logan’s thumb taps violently against the pleather arm rest of his chair as he glances at his watch, his phone, the door to the boarding gate - the last being ludicrous since the plane hasn’t even landed.
Waiting makes Logan fidgety; especially when he’s got much better things on his agenda than lounging in a ridiculously tiny airport and cursing his own stupidity for not checking his caller ID before answering his phone this morning.
Just as he’s about to get up to go purchase his third cup of espresso and another worthless magazine he notices the display above the check-in desk change from “in-flight” to “arrived”. Moments later a plane taxis in and he’s standing as close to the door as the grumpy ticket agent will allow.
“Death in the family,” he lies through a concerned expression, causing the woman to place palm-to-breast and inhale in mild shock.
“I’m so sorry,” she breathes out with what appears to be genuine sympathy before stepping away to whisper something to another agent. Logan feels appropriately guilty for roughly twelve seconds before reasoning that it’s really none of her business why he’s standing directly in front of the entrance to the boarding gate, rhythmically smacking his leg with a rolled-up InTouch and gnawing the thumbnail of his free hand down to the quick.
The doors to the gate open with a whoosh as throngs of vacationers file through, stepping around Logan with equal parts irritation and exhaustion. When Dick finally enters the waiting area he nearly runs Logan down before realizing it’s him, “Dude! How’d you get in here?”
“One way ticket to Albuquerque,” Logan says, flashing the voucher before casually flicking it in a trash bin as they begin to walk.
“What’s with the door to door?”
“Attempted to hang in baggage claim but the lighting down there wasn’t quite radioactive enough,” he asserts, glancing up at the fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling.
“Try being trapped next to some dude who smells like soup for six hours,” Dick challenges, his flip flops clapping a rhythm on the linoleum as they head down to pick up his luggage.
“Maybe if you didn’t fly airplanes-r-us,” Logan counters, eye brow cocked, “My car is larger and I’m pretty sure I saw duct tape holding the wings on that bucket.”
“Yeah, well, I had to make a hasty exit. It was this or swim.”
“Thought your dad had a jet.”
“Can’t exactly tell Big Dick why I had to beat it out of Hawaii two weeks early,” Dick scoffs, “those Island dudes don’t take too kindly to Mainlanders upping the competition on their honeys…” he informs, complete with suggestive hip thrust and lip curl.
Knowing he’s lying, Logan passes a look to Dick that expresses just that.
“…or welching on a bet,” Dick admits, looking down sheepishly.
“Gambling’s legal in Hawaii?” Logan asks, already knowing the answer.
“No. But neither is weed and that shit grows everywhere over there.”
“So. How much you lose?”
“Ten grand,” he mutters under his breath, peering up through his bangs at Logan, who can’t hide his irritated expression.
“You have ten grand to just throw around?” Logan asks, brow knotted in mock confusion.
“Not exactly,” Dick confesses, “But it was a guaranteed win situation, didn’t think I’d actually need it.” Dick whines his defense grumbling, “stupid horse” under his breath before abruptly turning to flip his hair and flash a smile in the direction of a pretty girl walking by - who speeds up in response.
“Hmm, seems all you need now is a weekend in Alaska and you will have crossed the local crime syndicate in all 50 states,” Logan notes wryly.
“Whatever dude, just take me somewhere to get some grub because plane food is seriously rank,” Dick pouts, digging in his pocket only to find a stick of gum and a strip of unused condoms.
“Can’t. Got plans,” Logan declares, holding up several bills for Dick, who takes them without a word.
“You’re gonna have to cancel ‘em, Bro’, because once I nourish The Temple de Casablancas, we need to prepare.”
“For what?” Logan asks, feigning innocence.
“A night of debauchery so legendary your grandkid’s grandkids will be talking about it.”
“Doubtful.”
“Did you suddenly lapse into a coma?”
“Sorry?”
“Enbom’s party! Cocktails. Cards. Ladies of the naked persuasion. Ringing any bells?” Receiving only a quizzical look in response, Dick continues, “Quit yanking my chain. Enbom’s only been pimping this bash since final bell; you’d have to be a total loser not to know about it.”
“I know about it,” Logan admits, “but, like I said, ‘got plans’.”
“Hold up.” Dick stops Logan before they get to the escalator going down stairs. “You weren’t just saying that to fuck with me?”
Logan shakes his head. “Already called John, told him I can’t make it.”
“So, what, Big Momma Kane back in town?” he questions, not hiding the mocking tone in his voice.
“Nope,” Logan replies, ignoring the insinuation and turning to step onto the moving stairs with Dick quickly following him.
“You’ve scheduled rectal surgery?” Dick asks rhetorically, “Because barring a catastrophic medical event, or the possibility of the life literally being fucked out of you by the hottest chick that either of us know, you are not allowed to miss this.”
“Sorry. You’re going to have to count me out.”
“Come on, unlimited boobs and booze and you’re going to like stay home and knit?”
“Yes, Dick, I knit,” Logan confesses, “Sorry you had to find out this way.”
“God, dude, really. Way to be a friend,” Dick gripes.
“So this is about friendship now? A party you weren’t even supposed to be in town for?”
“But I am in town, and that’s like fate stepping in and giving us an unexpected chance to hang. Be guys. So yeah, it’s about friendship and the closeness between two dudes,” he explains, throwing his free arm around Logan and squeezing him tight, “the way that drinking and smoking and tits that defy gravity being rubbed in our faces brings us together in the bonds of manhood and shit.”
“Quite a picture,” Logan mocks as he removes Dick’s arm from his shoulder. “Poetic, really. Still not going.”
“You suck, Echolls.”
“Stellar argument.”
“I don’t get you,” Dick gripes, ignoring Logan’s comment, “Her Royal Hotness and your rich-ass boy-toy are both out of town, without them you’ve got zero going on…” Dick’s voice heightens with increasing irritation, “What gives?”
Throwing his head back in frustration Logan covers his eyes with his hands and says, “Not going to explain myself, Dick,” heaving the words out as he grabs a Power Rangers suitcase from the sea of black luggage on the spinning belt and hands it to Dick.
“I know you’re not surfing or going to TJ, since any dude who’s cool is gonna be at Enbom’s, so I’ve gotta figure it’s side-action of the townie sort,” he suggests, “which I’m usually all about, but not tonight. Catch a disease on your own time,” he demands, as he pulls out the collapsible handle on his suitcase and begins wheeling the tiny bag behind him.
“Ever think I might just have better things to do?”
“Not a consideration,” Dick retorts. “‘A’ what could possibly be better? And ‘b’ the Logan Echolls I know wouldn’t miss a chance to party with his buds,” Dick argues through a huff. Obviously aggravated he stops just inside the vestibule leading out to the parking lot and flails his arms dramatically before crossing them in front of him. “You’re like a pod-person or something,” he grumps.
“Why? Because I’m not in the mood to watch you get sloppy drunk and try to mount some stripper - whose gyrating you’ve interpreted as true love - only to save you when she calls her burly body-guard over to kick your ass?”
“Yeah! It’s what friends do!” Dick sputters, turning to look out the glass, arms still crossed, now employing a girlish pout.
“How is it again that missing one party means I’m a bad friend?”
“Let me explain,” Dick says snidely, “No one knows I’m home. So, tonight I am free to do anything I want. Eat, drink, be horny and…”
“Right,” Logan interrupts, “all things you could have done in Hawaii had you not gone MIA on your bookie.”
“I was alone in Hawaii. Here I’ve got you,” he mutters, his voice barely above a croak, “and you’re fucking bailing.”
Dick would choose right now to be genuine.
But Dick’s temporary dip into the deep-end of the humanity pool isn’t enough for Logan to go an entire day without seeing Veronica.
Compromise it is.
“Tomorrow night, you and me,” Logan offers, curling his arm around Dick’s shoulders, “Just can’t tonight, I’ve got… stuff.”
“Yeah. Some bitch that’s only with you for your money.”
“And you’re not with me for my money?” Logan replies. “Also, it’s not someone,” he lies, picking up Dick’s suitcase to carry it out to the car, “so give it a rest.”
Walking away Logan gets as far as the curb before he figures out Dick hasn’t followed him and spins around to see his friend still moping in the vestibule. “Fine,” Logan shouts, “I’ll buy you brunch.”
“Captain Bob’s,” Dick demands without looking in Logan’s direction, continuing his melodramatic sulk.
Despite the instant swirl of nausea at the mere mention of Captain Botulism’s, Logan consents, “Whatever you want.”
Waiting for Dick to inevitably give in, Logan stares back at him and wags the suitcase in the direction of the parking lot suggestively until Dick turns, faking indifference, and struts over to Logan.
“You’re a total douche for skipping out on Enbom’s and you’re not forgiven” Dick grunts, “I’m just hungry.”
“Got it.”
***
A myriad of reasons led Logan to call Veronica the day Lilly left, one being their shared loneliness. But there was also a certain amount of sympathy involved - seeing her look so sad the day before at her birthday party - as well as a natural inclination to continue to spend the summer with one of his closest friends.
Of course, he’d mentioned the idea to Lilly and before she’d hung up with a “don’t miss me too much” and headed to Napa, she made it seem like just the thought of him calling Veronica was ridiculous; that despite the two of them being friends, and both of them being alone, he’d be lucky if she picked up her cell.
But Veronica had picked up and whether Lilly knew she would and was just giving him shit or - for whatever reason - was trying to get him to do the opposite of what she suggested, her tone was one of a challenge, “Go ahead. Call her. But you know Veronica...”
But you know Veronica.
It makes him laugh to think of it now, how nervous he was to simply dial her number and ask her to Ashley’s party, a common occurrence among friends but one that even then seemed loaded, a gesture not nearly as innocent as he convinced himself it to be at the time. Especially when he considers the tenuous line they now teeter on - somewhere between friendship and something else - the tiniest advance in their relationship exciting him with possibilities, possibilities tinged with a mild sense of dread.
Standing outside his house last night, the evening air smelling clean from the rain, Veronica’s drowsy eyes looking into his, she seemed to be allowing him in and it killed him not to take the opportunity. The warmth of her hands laced behind his neck, her mouth so close he could smell the syrupy scent of soda on her breath, the rush of adrenaline and - god help him - butterflies making him dizzy; he still can’t believe he stopped her, stepping back to let her drive away, because his entire body ached from wanting her and he practically jumped out of his skin holding back from chasing her car up the driveway.
More confusing to him was Veronica being the one to instigate such a flirty, tension-filled moment. Knowing her on-going trepidation, feeling it in every glance or touch whenever they’re around each other, he was shaken by her sudden forwardness as though she was daring him to follow through on his unspoken threats of romance.
Or maybe it wasn’t so much a dare as an innocent response to the on-going - and increasingly more reckless and insistent - near-seduction being perpetrated on her daily. It could be that she was finally giving in to it, allowing herself to go with the moment and see where it would take them; an uncharacteristic move for her and one that threw him for a loop, since Logan had been relying on her to be the conscience for them both.
The illogical, smitten part of him - which is constantly battling with his cool-headed, rationally smitten side - wants nothing more than to tell Veronica how he feels, both because it’s true and because he’s exhausted from pretending that it isn’t. But something about her responding in kind last night, her initiating a touch, an almost-kiss, woke him up to just what’s at stake. That this “thing” goes far beyond boy likes girl and vice versa and telling her what he thinks of her, what she does to him, wouldn’t make anything easier in the long run - definitely the opposite - telling her would complicate everything.
For such a simple confession there are dire consequences, some that even he isn’t sure he’s ready for, but none that Veronica is prepared to handle. He knows her well enough to realize that she isn’t ready to go down that road, not equipped for the cost of moving past flirtation. Socially. Emotionally. Wanting to protect her from what taking that step would bring is probably the main reason he let the previous evening’s opportunity pass.
The other reasons being his own need to keep her in his life in any capacity, not wanting to dismantle his friendship with Duncan and wanting to keep intact the important bond the four of them have with each other. There is also the fact that - in spite of certain issues in their relationship - he really does love Lilly.
But loving someone who doesn’t love you back the same way, watching them flirt and god-knows-what-else their way through your entire high school class, having them fluctuate between devoted-to and irritated-by you, it all takes a toll on your heart and messes with your head. So regardless of loving Lilly - needing her in a way exclusive to her - and wanting her to love him in return, Logan can’t deny how good Veronica makes him feel, content, like there’s no one else in the room when they’re together.
So even though he denied Veronica’s advances - due to his concern for her feelings and the consequences any romance would incur on their lives - and in spite of playing out in his mind every possible scenario of their little whatever (coming up with “utter destruction” as the only possible conclusion) he still spent three hours on the phone with her before he went to bed last night. And while it seemed like a safe alternative to what might have continued had she stayed at his place, he discovered that conversation can be even more intimate than any physical contact he’s ever experienced.
The ease with which they spoke to each other, revealing dreams, wishes, hopes gave Logan a deeper sense of connection to Veronica, but also made it obvious to him that whatever is between them now is not coming from their sudden abandonment, or some projection of misplaced feelings, but true emotions, and that all his touching and flirting is not the cause of their deepening feelings but an effect of those that already existed, merely hidden by loyalty and fear, and only able to appear in the absence of certain obstacles.
“What would you like the note to read?” the clerk asks - shaking Logan from his reverie - looking up attentively as she waits for his response, her pen poised above a small, floral-bordered card.
“Um,” Logan stammers, not having thought about it, “no note. I’ll be delivering them myself.”
Giving him an approving smile, she sets the card aside and finishes wrapping the large bouquet in bright pink paper, delicately taping the wrapping shut, the quantity of flowers testing the limits of the paper’s capacity.
“Lucky girl,” she comments, handing the bouquet over to Logan who trades it for several bills. Stunned at the amount, she offers to give back the extra cash but Logan waves it away.
“Keep it.” He smiles, turning happily on his heel to go back to his car.
***
/end part 1
> part 2
Chapter: [8] Look Like Something - Part 1
Author:
tlace
Pairing/Character: Veronica/Logan, Veronica/Duncan, Logan/Lilly, with appearances by, pretty much, every Marsverse character ever
Word Count: 5605
Rating: R - Swearing, suggested drug-use and adult situations.
Summary: WIP begins pre-series, Veronica’s birthday is the jumping off point. Veronica and Logan are left behind when the Kane kids unexpectedly leave for the summer
Spoilers: Season 1
Warnings: Each part will have its own rating
Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of Veronica Mars. No copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: A million fangirl thanks to Heather (
heather13 ) & Roz (
afrocurl ) for the beta help on this chapter!
This chapter is too large for one post so it is cut in two. ( one & two)
Staring out at the tarmac of the Balboa County Regional Airport, Logan’s thumb taps violently against the pleather arm rest of his chair as he glances at his watch, his phone, the door to the boarding gate - the last being ludicrous since the plane hasn’t even landed.
Waiting makes Logan fidgety; especially when he’s got much better things on his agenda than lounging in a ridiculously tiny airport and cursing his own stupidity for not checking his caller ID before answering his phone this morning.
Just as he’s about to get up to go purchase his third cup of espresso and another worthless magazine he notices the display above the check-in desk change from “in-flight” to “arrived”. Moments later a plane taxis in and he’s standing as close to the door as the grumpy ticket agent will allow.
“Death in the family,” he lies through a concerned expression, causing the woman to place palm-to-breast and inhale in mild shock.
“I’m so sorry,” she breathes out with what appears to be genuine sympathy before stepping away to whisper something to another agent. Logan feels appropriately guilty for roughly twelve seconds before reasoning that it’s really none of her business why he’s standing directly in front of the entrance to the boarding gate, rhythmically smacking his leg with a rolled-up InTouch and gnawing the thumbnail of his free hand down to the quick.
The doors to the gate open with a whoosh as throngs of vacationers file through, stepping around Logan with equal parts irritation and exhaustion. When Dick finally enters the waiting area he nearly runs Logan down before realizing it’s him, “Dude! How’d you get in here?”
“One way ticket to Albuquerque,” Logan says, flashing the voucher before casually flicking it in a trash bin as they begin to walk.
“What’s with the door to door?”
“Attempted to hang in baggage claim but the lighting down there wasn’t quite radioactive enough,” he asserts, glancing up at the fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling.
“Try being trapped next to some dude who smells like soup for six hours,” Dick challenges, his flip flops clapping a rhythm on the linoleum as they head down to pick up his luggage.
“Maybe if you didn’t fly airplanes-r-us,” Logan counters, eye brow cocked, “My car is larger and I’m pretty sure I saw duct tape holding the wings on that bucket.”
“Yeah, well, I had to make a hasty exit. It was this or swim.”
“Thought your dad had a jet.”
“Can’t exactly tell Big Dick why I had to beat it out of Hawaii two weeks early,” Dick scoffs, “those Island dudes don’t take too kindly to Mainlanders upping the competition on their honeys…” he informs, complete with suggestive hip thrust and lip curl.
Knowing he’s lying, Logan passes a look to Dick that expresses just that.
“…or welching on a bet,” Dick admits, looking down sheepishly.
“Gambling’s legal in Hawaii?” Logan asks, already knowing the answer.
“No. But neither is weed and that shit grows everywhere over there.”
“So. How much you lose?”
“Ten grand,” he mutters under his breath, peering up through his bangs at Logan, who can’t hide his irritated expression.
“You have ten grand to just throw around?” Logan asks, brow knotted in mock confusion.
“Not exactly,” Dick confesses, “But it was a guaranteed win situation, didn’t think I’d actually need it.” Dick whines his defense grumbling, “stupid horse” under his breath before abruptly turning to flip his hair and flash a smile in the direction of a pretty girl walking by - who speeds up in response.
“Hmm, seems all you need now is a weekend in Alaska and you will have crossed the local crime syndicate in all 50 states,” Logan notes wryly.
“Whatever dude, just take me somewhere to get some grub because plane food is seriously rank,” Dick pouts, digging in his pocket only to find a stick of gum and a strip of unused condoms.
“Can’t. Got plans,” Logan declares, holding up several bills for Dick, who takes them without a word.
“You’re gonna have to cancel ‘em, Bro’, because once I nourish The Temple de Casablancas, we need to prepare.”
“For what?” Logan asks, feigning innocence.
“A night of debauchery so legendary your grandkid’s grandkids will be talking about it.”
“Doubtful.”
“Did you suddenly lapse into a coma?”
“Sorry?”
“Enbom’s party! Cocktails. Cards. Ladies of the naked persuasion. Ringing any bells?” Receiving only a quizzical look in response, Dick continues, “Quit yanking my chain. Enbom’s only been pimping this bash since final bell; you’d have to be a total loser not to know about it.”
“I know about it,” Logan admits, “but, like I said, ‘got plans’.”
“Hold up.” Dick stops Logan before they get to the escalator going down stairs. “You weren’t just saying that to fuck with me?”
Logan shakes his head. “Already called John, told him I can’t make it.”
“So, what, Big Momma Kane back in town?” he questions, not hiding the mocking tone in his voice.
“Nope,” Logan replies, ignoring the insinuation and turning to step onto the moving stairs with Dick quickly following him.
“You’ve scheduled rectal surgery?” Dick asks rhetorically, “Because barring a catastrophic medical event, or the possibility of the life literally being fucked out of you by the hottest chick that either of us know, you are not allowed to miss this.”
“Sorry. You’re going to have to count me out.”
“Come on, unlimited boobs and booze and you’re going to like stay home and knit?”
“Yes, Dick, I knit,” Logan confesses, “Sorry you had to find out this way.”
“God, dude, really. Way to be a friend,” Dick gripes.
“So this is about friendship now? A party you weren’t even supposed to be in town for?”
“But I am in town, and that’s like fate stepping in and giving us an unexpected chance to hang. Be guys. So yeah, it’s about friendship and the closeness between two dudes,” he explains, throwing his free arm around Logan and squeezing him tight, “the way that drinking and smoking and tits that defy gravity being rubbed in our faces brings us together in the bonds of manhood and shit.”
“Quite a picture,” Logan mocks as he removes Dick’s arm from his shoulder. “Poetic, really. Still not going.”
“You suck, Echolls.”
“Stellar argument.”
“I don’t get you,” Dick gripes, ignoring Logan’s comment, “Her Royal Hotness and your rich-ass boy-toy are both out of town, without them you’ve got zero going on…” Dick’s voice heightens with increasing irritation, “What gives?”
Throwing his head back in frustration Logan covers his eyes with his hands and says, “Not going to explain myself, Dick,” heaving the words out as he grabs a Power Rangers suitcase from the sea of black luggage on the spinning belt and hands it to Dick.
“I know you’re not surfing or going to TJ, since any dude who’s cool is gonna be at Enbom’s, so I’ve gotta figure it’s side-action of the townie sort,” he suggests, “which I’m usually all about, but not tonight. Catch a disease on your own time,” he demands, as he pulls out the collapsible handle on his suitcase and begins wheeling the tiny bag behind him.
“Ever think I might just have better things to do?”
“Not a consideration,” Dick retorts. “‘A’ what could possibly be better? And ‘b’ the Logan Echolls I know wouldn’t miss a chance to party with his buds,” Dick argues through a huff. Obviously aggravated he stops just inside the vestibule leading out to the parking lot and flails his arms dramatically before crossing them in front of him. “You’re like a pod-person or something,” he grumps.
“Why? Because I’m not in the mood to watch you get sloppy drunk and try to mount some stripper - whose gyrating you’ve interpreted as true love - only to save you when she calls her burly body-guard over to kick your ass?”
“Yeah! It’s what friends do!” Dick sputters, turning to look out the glass, arms still crossed, now employing a girlish pout.
“How is it again that missing one party means I’m a bad friend?”
“Let me explain,” Dick says snidely, “No one knows I’m home. So, tonight I am free to do anything I want. Eat, drink, be horny and…”
“Right,” Logan interrupts, “all things you could have done in Hawaii had you not gone MIA on your bookie.”
“I was alone in Hawaii. Here I’ve got you,” he mutters, his voice barely above a croak, “and you’re fucking bailing.”
Dick would choose right now to be genuine.
But Dick’s temporary dip into the deep-end of the humanity pool isn’t enough for Logan to go an entire day without seeing Veronica.
Compromise it is.
“Tomorrow night, you and me,” Logan offers, curling his arm around Dick’s shoulders, “Just can’t tonight, I’ve got… stuff.”
“Yeah. Some bitch that’s only with you for your money.”
“And you’re not with me for my money?” Logan replies. “Also, it’s not someone,” he lies, picking up Dick’s suitcase to carry it out to the car, “so give it a rest.”
Walking away Logan gets as far as the curb before he figures out Dick hasn’t followed him and spins around to see his friend still moping in the vestibule. “Fine,” Logan shouts, “I’ll buy you brunch.”
“Captain Bob’s,” Dick demands without looking in Logan’s direction, continuing his melodramatic sulk.
Despite the instant swirl of nausea at the mere mention of Captain Botulism’s, Logan consents, “Whatever you want.”
Waiting for Dick to inevitably give in, Logan stares back at him and wags the suitcase in the direction of the parking lot suggestively until Dick turns, faking indifference, and struts over to Logan.
“You’re a total douche for skipping out on Enbom’s and you’re not forgiven” Dick grunts, “I’m just hungry.”
“Got it.”
***
A myriad of reasons led Logan to call Veronica the day Lilly left, one being their shared loneliness. But there was also a certain amount of sympathy involved - seeing her look so sad the day before at her birthday party - as well as a natural inclination to continue to spend the summer with one of his closest friends.
Of course, he’d mentioned the idea to Lilly and before she’d hung up with a “don’t miss me too much” and headed to Napa, she made it seem like just the thought of him calling Veronica was ridiculous; that despite the two of them being friends, and both of them being alone, he’d be lucky if she picked up her cell.
But Veronica had picked up and whether Lilly knew she would and was just giving him shit or - for whatever reason - was trying to get him to do the opposite of what she suggested, her tone was one of a challenge, “Go ahead. Call her. But you know Veronica...”
But you know Veronica.
It makes him laugh to think of it now, how nervous he was to simply dial her number and ask her to Ashley’s party, a common occurrence among friends but one that even then seemed loaded, a gesture not nearly as innocent as he convinced himself it to be at the time. Especially when he considers the tenuous line they now teeter on - somewhere between friendship and something else - the tiniest advance in their relationship exciting him with possibilities, possibilities tinged with a mild sense of dread.
Standing outside his house last night, the evening air smelling clean from the rain, Veronica’s drowsy eyes looking into his, she seemed to be allowing him in and it killed him not to take the opportunity. The warmth of her hands laced behind his neck, her mouth so close he could smell the syrupy scent of soda on her breath, the rush of adrenaline and - god help him - butterflies making him dizzy; he still can’t believe he stopped her, stepping back to let her drive away, because his entire body ached from wanting her and he practically jumped out of his skin holding back from chasing her car up the driveway.
More confusing to him was Veronica being the one to instigate such a flirty, tension-filled moment. Knowing her on-going trepidation, feeling it in every glance or touch whenever they’re around each other, he was shaken by her sudden forwardness as though she was daring him to follow through on his unspoken threats of romance.
Or maybe it wasn’t so much a dare as an innocent response to the on-going - and increasingly more reckless and insistent - near-seduction being perpetrated on her daily. It could be that she was finally giving in to it, allowing herself to go with the moment and see where it would take them; an uncharacteristic move for her and one that threw him for a loop, since Logan had been relying on her to be the conscience for them both.
The illogical, smitten part of him - which is constantly battling with his cool-headed, rationally smitten side - wants nothing more than to tell Veronica how he feels, both because it’s true and because he’s exhausted from pretending that it isn’t. But something about her responding in kind last night, her initiating a touch, an almost-kiss, woke him up to just what’s at stake. That this “thing” goes far beyond boy likes girl and vice versa and telling her what he thinks of her, what she does to him, wouldn’t make anything easier in the long run - definitely the opposite - telling her would complicate everything.
For such a simple confession there are dire consequences, some that even he isn’t sure he’s ready for, but none that Veronica is prepared to handle. He knows her well enough to realize that she isn’t ready to go down that road, not equipped for the cost of moving past flirtation. Socially. Emotionally. Wanting to protect her from what taking that step would bring is probably the main reason he let the previous evening’s opportunity pass.
The other reasons being his own need to keep her in his life in any capacity, not wanting to dismantle his friendship with Duncan and wanting to keep intact the important bond the four of them have with each other. There is also the fact that - in spite of certain issues in their relationship - he really does love Lilly.
But loving someone who doesn’t love you back the same way, watching them flirt and god-knows-what-else their way through your entire high school class, having them fluctuate between devoted-to and irritated-by you, it all takes a toll on your heart and messes with your head. So regardless of loving Lilly - needing her in a way exclusive to her - and wanting her to love him in return, Logan can’t deny how good Veronica makes him feel, content, like there’s no one else in the room when they’re together.
So even though he denied Veronica’s advances - due to his concern for her feelings and the consequences any romance would incur on their lives - and in spite of playing out in his mind every possible scenario of their little whatever (coming up with “utter destruction” as the only possible conclusion) he still spent three hours on the phone with her before he went to bed last night. And while it seemed like a safe alternative to what might have continued had she stayed at his place, he discovered that conversation can be even more intimate than any physical contact he’s ever experienced.
The ease with which they spoke to each other, revealing dreams, wishes, hopes gave Logan a deeper sense of connection to Veronica, but also made it obvious to him that whatever is between them now is not coming from their sudden abandonment, or some projection of misplaced feelings, but true emotions, and that all his touching and flirting is not the cause of their deepening feelings but an effect of those that already existed, merely hidden by loyalty and fear, and only able to appear in the absence of certain obstacles.
“What would you like the note to read?” the clerk asks - shaking Logan from his reverie - looking up attentively as she waits for his response, her pen poised above a small, floral-bordered card.
“Um,” Logan stammers, not having thought about it, “no note. I’ll be delivering them myself.”
Giving him an approving smile, she sets the card aside and finishes wrapping the large bouquet in bright pink paper, delicately taping the wrapping shut, the quantity of flowers testing the limits of the paper’s capacity.
“Lucky girl,” she comments, handing the bouquet over to Logan who trades it for several bills. Stunned at the amount, she offers to give back the extra cash but Logan waves it away.
“Keep it.” He smiles, turning happily on his heel to go back to his car.
***
/end part 1
> part 2