Theory Of Convergence: Veronica Mars: V/L
***
“Give it up Veronica, you do not sunbathe.”
Hearing the familiar voice, Veronica lifts the sunhat that’s covering her face, squinting up to see Meg standing over her, arms crossed, beach bag slung over her shoulder.
“You are whiter than me so this, whatever you’re doing, I see it for what it really is,” Meg continues, her cocked eyebrow giving Veronica the what for.
“And what is it, really?” Veronica asks, sitting up and continuing the teasing give and take.
“A sad little cry for help,” Meg replies, matter-of-factly.
Unable to keep from smiling at Meg’s inherent sweetness - which comes through even when she’s being snarky - Veronica wonders if it is genetically possible to dislike her, coming to the conclusion that whoever does has a heart made of stone.
“That so?”
“Yes. Clearly you’re hiding from the world. Your phone is off; you called in sick to the station. My guess is you’ve been here at home, moping the day away missing your gorgeous, billionaire-boyfriend all pity-party-woe-is-you.”
If you only knew.
“My phone is charging, I called in due to weather,” Veronica playfully explains, gesturing to the perfectly sunny day, “and I can assure you, there is no woe.”
“Please. You’re an open book.”
“Is it that obvious?” she poses, giving in to Meg’s assumptions with a big exhale of breath.
“Uh, yeah,” Meg confirms, her face crinkling into an understanding smirk. “But fear not, the cavalry has arrived.”
“What exactly do you have in that bag of yours, because unless it’s thirty guys on horseback the cavalry is looking rather anemic?”
“Funny. The girls are in the car,” Meg replies, thumbing toward the street. “So gather your stuff and meet us out front.”
“What’s the plan oh rescuer of the pathetic and pigment-deficient?” Veronica teases, pushing herself up from the lawn chair.
“Pool.”
“Billiards? At this time of day?” Veronica teases.
“Swimming,” Meg retorts.
“Ah, so you’re big idea to save me from myself is relocation?” Veronica challenges as she begins to tidy up, knowing full well her participation is inevitable.
“No. Because where we’re going there’s actually enough water to get all of you wet,” Meg motions to the plastic kiddie pool in which Veronica was just dangling her feet, “there is also a month’s worth of gossip magazines to read, an endless selection of diet carbonated beverages and - best of all - me,” she says the last with a lilt and smile. “Plus,” Meg continues, flashing an affected pout, “rumor has it Madison is indisposed for the rest of the summer. Something about surgery for a ‘deviated septum’,” Meg offers with a wink, “so we’re rolling Sinclair-free.”
“You could have just started with that,” Veronica says, folding up her chair and walking towards the house, “we’d be half-way there already.”
***
When the caravan of cars turns off the boulevard to head up a long, winding, and familiar driveway Veronica is irritated that she didn’t inquire which pool Meg planned on dragging her off to because the second she realizes they’ve arrived at John’s house she knows Logan is here and she’s instantly queasy.
“So this was the plan?” Veronica asks Meg, digging through her bag to find her sunglasses as though they’ll make her invisible, or at the very least shield her from Logan’s hotness.
“Not terribly original but it got you out of the house,” Meg replies with a shrug, giving her a quick playful elbow jab before they climb out of the backseat.
Sauntering up the pathway to the pool Veronica catches a glimpse of Logan through the jungle of palms that line walk. Her heart jumps clear to her throat and she instantly forgets to care whether she finds her sunglasses or not.
Leaning back all at ease and nonchalant against the bar he’s having an apparently hilarious conversation with a bunch of guys who, in the throes of gut-aching laughter, are all red-faced while Logan wears his patented sly smirk; seemingly proud he’s reduced his friends to mirthful tears.
As she nears the huge wooden gate that stands between her and Logan, her eyes remain locked on him. But it still takes a moment to register when he turns away from his conversation and - somehow managing to find her hidden amidst all the foliage - stares directly at her, quite deliberately.
Just as the thought that he is now practically gaping comes barreling into her head, his smirk fades into something else; wonderment, confusion maybe she’s not sure because before she has a chance to decipher the meaning behind his expression, his gaze shifts elsewhere and her heart - that was just in her throat - quickly plummets, landing with a thud in the pit of her stomach.
A second later the rest of the boys hear the ancient and entirely decorative gate - since there isn’t any sort of fence edging the yard - creak open, most losing interest in whatever they’re doing immediately upon noticing the throng of girls spilling into the patio area.
A few of the guys are horrible at containing their excitement, tripping over themselves to greet their respective girlfriends, or someone they hope to at least hook up with, but Logan makes no effort to move, peering up to lock Veronica’s unbroken stare with a smile - one just bright enough to light his eyes - before turning back to talk to the few boys who linger at the bar.
From that point on a strange feeling hangs in the air, which Veronica eventually comes to realize is limited to her personal atmosphere; since everyone else appears to be in a really good mood. Including Logan who, despite the distance Veronica imposed on them, spends his time happily making the rounds between groups, offering drinks and good-humored ribbing - always with a wide grin spread on his face - as though nothing strange happened the night before.
So very Logan.
But even as he slides effortlessly around the party, making sure to talk with most everyone, and even as Veronica - surrounded by a cluster of chatty girls - does her best to appear entirely enthralled with whatever story is currently being told, the two of them are completely and utterly aware of each other; both being social, yet still managing to trade glances, half-smiles, and quick walk-bys to see what the other is doing.
As the day progresses the weirdness gradually dissipates. Enough so that they both begin to make efforts to shorten the gap between them until Veronica loses count of the number of times that they find excuses to run into each other; up to the bar for buckets of drinks, to the cabana for a towel, the kitchen for a napkin; their reasons obvious. So obvious in fact, that if just one of their friends paid any attention at all they would definitely be busted.
Still, when the video games come out and the rest of the girls roll their eyes, heaving a collective sigh before heading downstairs to the den to watch some teen girl flick, Veronica doesn’t think twice about joining the boys. Though she does make sure to sit at least two seats away from Logan, not wanting it to be too easy for their many witnesses to figure out what is really going on, she also takes care to set herself at just the right angle so she and Logan can continue to exchange looks all evening.
Which they do; Logan taking every opportunity to playfully tease her, talk trash or throw spent candy wrappers at her when she virtually takes him out, while Veronica tosses around her own pithy remarks, appearing to want to get inside the head of the opposing team but, truth be told, she just likes the way the one side of Logan’s mouth curls up when she manages a particularly witty aside.
So when the clock strikes ten - and a groggy Meg shuffles down the stairs to find her - Veronica is more than a little disappointed and, if his expression is any indication, so is Logan. Not that she’s surprised, he never said he wanted space, that was all her.
Unfortunately this evening she has to rely on others to get her home and tonight her chauffeurs are Susan Knight and Carrie Bishop who, surprisingly, also have a curfew. After Meg’s half-hearted attempts at coercion fail to get Veronica’s ass in gear, the two of them come downstairs and give her the five minutes or we’re leaving without you speech and she’s off the couch in an instant, gathering her belongings and scrambling over the tangled pile of long boy-legs.
Once they shout their good-byes to the distracted guys, Veronica begins climbing the stairs, stopping for just a second to turn back and look at Logan who is, of course, craning around to look at her so she waves and he gives her a quick guilty grin in return, immediately turning back to keep from getting annihilated.
***
On the way home Veronica shares the enormous back seat of Carrie’s Lexus with Meg who lounges on the opposite side, curled beneath her sweatshirt, nearly asleep. Up front Carrie and Susan, entirely uninterested in including their passengers in the discussion, talk busily about the party and everyone who isn’t currently in the car. Veronica uses the solitary moment to quell the nagging thought that tickles the back of her mind - that she should have said something to Logan before she left - by pulling out her cell and stealthily typing a quick text to Logan.
It was nice to see you.
Not even five seconds later she gets a response - Me? - which induces an involuntary chuckle, loud enough to cause Meg to stir. So Veronica hastily pounds the buttons.
Wait. This isn’t Dick?
Veronica beams proudly at her own wit…
Please. Like Dick can spell.
…and Logan’s.
A little more coherent now, Meg hazily lolls her head along the back of the seat in Veronica’s direction and notices her thumbing away on her phone.
“Are you texting Duncan? After the awesome day we had?”
Only smiling in response, Veronica continues to pad the keys.
“You really do have it bad, don’t you?”
***
The next few days play out much the same with Veronica avoiding the world and Meg coming to her rescue, offering fun new ways to deny her - assumed - Duncan inspired woe.
As she drives home from the station, Meg calls to invite her out for an afternoon of karaoke at Java the Hut, followed by a classic double feature at the Rialto; which just happens to be the one Logan had wanted to take her to, so it’s no surprise that he’s standing in line at the ticket counter when she and Meg arrive.
In spite of the fact that Logan and Veronica somehow end up next to each other in the theater - their arms crushed together, fingers brushing accidently numerous times - it is decidedly not a date because Logan’s brought along seven of their friends, including Dick and Luke who, completely high, manage to laugh their way through “The Champ” and most of “Rocky” before they both fall asleep snoring, making it nearly impossible for the evening to feel at all romantic.
Even so, she has fun. Though with their communication all night being completely non-verbal it’s painfully difficult for Veronica to leave when the credits roll since all she wants in the world right now is to drag Logan off to a corner somewhere and talk. About nothing. About everything.
But her creative well has run dry and she can think of no good excuse to stay so, reluctantly, she trundles after Meg with barely a “good-bye.”
***
Disneyland is on Veronica and Logan’s To-Do list, so when Meg drops her off after the movie and invites Veronica to join her, Cole and “a bunch of other people” the next day Veronica doesn’t hesitate, figuring the likelihood of Logan being there is no less than 100% so it’s not as though she’s going without him.
And she’s right.
In fact it’s Logan who is holding Cole’s back-seat door open for her when she comes out of her house the following morning. As she climbs into the middle, with Dick on her right, Logan informs her that the car will be at maximum capacity once they pick up Sean - who is surfing in Huntington Beach - so Veronica is just going to have to sit on Logan’s lap the remainder of the ride; a fact that lends itself to a lot of talking and joking, and definitely some covert hair-fiddling and back-rubbing on Logan’s part.
Admittedly, the entire day is great; the weather, the rides, even the horrible amusement park food is almost edible - thanks to the company. In fact, Veronica is so relaxed around Logan and all of their friends she momentarily forgets the little agreement they have going.
That is until only she and Logan decide to stay back from the group’s tenth - and record setting - ride on Space Mountain and she realizes they are completely alone. It takes three seconds for that damned conscience - or whatever - to kick in and scold him for showing up. And even though he claims he had no idea she was going to be there, he playfully agrees that it was wrong and that he’ll leave her alone tomorrow, he promises. Unfortunately for her he sounds like he means it.
***
The following morning Veronica is desperate to find a distraction and heads to her favorite music shop, trying to quash the urge to call Logan with consumerism. After a good half an hour of flipping through CDs, she’s all the way through the Gs with nothing to show for it and is about to give up when the familiar tinkling of the bells - indicating a new customer - floats through the store and she looks up to see Logan walk in the door with Dick and John following close behind.
Watching as Logan chooses a section and passes a surveying glance over the titles - alternative rock, she guesses from his location - Veronica takes in every detail; the curve of his neck, the way he pushes up his left sleeve before beginning his own search through the racks, his tan skin highlighted by the summery white linen shirt he’s wearing, his shorts hanging baggy - the tattered hems skimming just above the tight muscles of his calves - while he stands all casually loose-limbed with that familiar confidence and grace.
Sliding his finger between case after case, Logan’s sun-tinted fore-arms peek out from beneath his lazily rolled sleeve - which, oddly, makes her flush - while John stays close, peering over Logan’s shoulder and making cracks about anything that he chooses.
Veronica is so intent on her surveillance of him she doesn’t notice that Dick has found his way over and is standing immediately behind her.
"See anything you like?" he whispers into her ear, sort of breathy like he’s trying for sexy but he just comes across as… well, Dick.
Surprised, she whips around, a fake grin plastered to her face, "Hey Dick! What brings you to the seedy side of town?"
"Pretty blonde girls in baby tees and mini-skirts who like music,” Dick barely pauses, whispering again, "I'm talking about you."
"Hmm. You know, I don’t think I ever would have guessed that,” she retorts, sarcasm dripping from every word as she gives her t-shirt and skirt a suggestive glance, "So why are you really here?"
"Logan says this place has the best CDs and my mother is somehow getting my car in the divorce so, I go where the ride goes I guess. You?"
"Besides the pretty blondes? Logan's right, the music selection is excellent."
Just then Veronica feels a hand on her back. "Is this man bothering you ma’am?" asks the familiar voice.
Enjoying the warmth of Logan’s hand seeping through her top and onto her skin, Veronica smiles before responding with a "No sir,” in her best mock-southern accent, "He's just a pathetic, misunderstood wretch. I wouldn't pay him any mind."
Dick rolls his eyes, "Dude! Either do her already or let a brother make his moves in peace."
"A brother?"
"Do me? And does no one remember that I have a boyfriend?" Veronica asks, irritated and also a little surprised by her outburst.
"Well you don't, since you're always giving Logan the puppy eyes," Dick challenges in a huff.
Unable to speak, Veronica's eyes dart down and all she can concentrate on is the sudden dryness of her mouth and the rapid thudding of her heart.
"God Dick, would you shut up?" Logan begs, obviously more than a little pissed.
"Whatever. I'm leaving."
"And how do you plan on getting home?" Logan questions smugly, his brow still bent with frustration watching Dick sulk away.
"Limo!" Dick yells, waving his cell phone and stomping off out the door.
Still averting her eyes, Veronica doesn’t see the look that passes between John and Logan.
"Uh, I'll go get him, Logan,” John offers from a row near the register.
"Yeah. Good idea,” Logan agrees, “I'll meet you at the car.”
There is a long silence, too long, until finally Veronica looks up to see Logan’s sympathetic expression, one colored with the tiniest, amused grin.
“What?” she half-pouts, finding it incredibly difficult not to beam in return.
“Nothing,” Logan replies, shrugging, “It just seems that even when we try to stay away we find each other,” he offers, his grin breaking into a much wider one as he slips his hand down her arm, cocking his head to peer into her eyes. “Don’t mind Dick, he's just making up excuses for why you won't give him the time of day."
And something about the way he says that pushes one of her buttons and Veronica smiles back. “Whatever,” she puffs, rolling her eyes, "So, did you find anything good?"
Logan eyes the CDs in his hand. "Yeah, a couple things. How about you?"
"Well, A through G was a bust but I still have H through Z so..." she says, crossing her fingers hopefully.
“Well then, I should probably leave you to your search,” Logan replies, slowly moving toward the check-out.
"Okay," Veronica half-heartedly agrees, shifting to the H section.
"It was nice running into you. You look..." Logan’s voice trails off as he smiles, his eyes finishing the sentence for him.
With that her breath catches in her throat, a sudden heat rises to her cheeks, and Veronica can only sputter, “Thanks, uh... I like your shirt."
Pathetic.
Face furrowed in mock-confusion, Logan pulls the shirt up a little, "This old thing?"
Veronica nods, taking in the broad smile of contentment that crosses Logan's face.
"Thanks.”
***
Hours later - with the house empty, Meg out with her mom and sisters, and the rest of the girls all busy with boyfriends or something equally as time consuming - Veronica is completely alone, which means she is antsy and getting increasingly antsier by the second, practically bouncing off the walls trying to avoid thinking thoughts.
Thoughts that inevitably and without fail come back to Logan and that damned white shirt.
So she tries everything, anything; television, movies, books, music, the newspaper, internet, but none of it diverts her attention from a flood of twisted-up, mushy notions that spin through her head - about golden skin and linen shirts and cologne - for more than a couple of minutes at a time.
Video games!
Quickly, Veronica dives for the “Gaming Cabinet” - named so after her father usurped the one that once housed all their movies - yanking out the first case she sees, fumbling it open and slapping the disc in the slot. With a whir, the Xbox boots up and an all-too familiar soldier-guy is staring back at her from the screen.
Three seconds later she’s in her closet choosing her favorite top and skirt, followed by a quick brush of her hair and reapplication of gloss before she practically flies down the hall to the little table by the door where she grabs her keys and purse and dashes quickly out to her car.
/end chapter