Chapter 10: The Morning After


Veronica stirs, a strange sound invading her dreams. She struggles to drag her eyes open and pinpoint the sound. After a few more seconds, she figures it out.

Cell phone. Ringing. Cell phone is ringing. Must make it stop ringing. Head is already ringing. Too much ringing.

Veronica feels the aftereffects of several shots of vodka still coursing through her bloodstream as she tries to sit up and go in search of the phone. The world spins slowly around her, but she cannot actually move.

The cell phone stops ringing and Veronica drops her head back on the pillow with a groan. Seconds later, she hears the phone chirp, signaling a new voice mail.

Damn it. If only I could move, I could see who called. Veronica frowns, re-examining her thought. Wait. Why can’t I move?

She opens her eyes again and squints as daylight pours in through the partially open curtains and right into her face. Blinking rapidly, she looks down and can’t contain a gasp.

Logan. I can’t move because Logan is on top of me? Veronica fights the urge to hyperventilate as the events of the night before flick by at top speed. She takes a deep breath and sorts through the memories carefully. First, the crying. And then the cut on his hand. And Logan taking off his shirt. And the drinking. And more drinking. And all those truths that spilled out faster than the alcohol.

Veronica pauses, breath catching as his words and his looks come back to her. And then there was the way they ended up on the bed.

And then the kiss. Her breath hitches. They did kiss and it was...

Amazing.

A little line appears between Veronica’s eyebrows as she concentrates. Then there was more crying. She casts her eyes down again, the top of Logan’s head the first thing she sees as it rests on her chest. Before she can register what she is doing, Veronica’s fingers brush through his hair gently. Her display of tenderness over the broken boy startles her. She half-smiles as her eyes slide further down, skimming over the strong curve of his back, the expanse of tanned skin disappearing into his camo pants. Her eyes catch on faint flaws in his skin. Scars. Her stomach turns. She can just make out white lines, lines she never noticed before. Never looked for before. Veronica shakes her head, knowing she won’t be able to hide her knowledge of this forever. She casts her eyes to his shoulder, follows the strong line of his arm, which is lying heavily across her abdomen, fingers curled up to brush her side. Veronica closes her eyes, taking in the weight of him, the warmth of him.

And then, there was more kissing. Veronica’s memory of his mouth, the fever of their second kiss, makes her body tingle in several key locations. She smiles down at him, but the smile quickly drops away when her cell phone begins to ring again. Veronica frowns briefly and then opens her mouth, heart racing in panic now.

She whispers to herself, “Oh, crap. Dad.”

A voice from below her makes her tense up. “Logan. I prefer to be called Logan.” His voice is gravel, low and scratchy.

“Sleeping beauty awakes.”

“Flattery will not get me to move.”

“Will the fact that my Dad is still allowed to carry a concealed weapon and has no idea where I am or who I am with at the moment help?”

Logan rolls off Veronica with a groan, his arm flying up to cover his eyes as the light pours over him.

“Thought so.”

Sitting up, Veronica takes a moment to ogle Logan’s chest and abs unobserved before shaking her head to clear it and darting from the bed. At least, darting was the plan. It turns into more of a stumble, a near-fall and an ungraceful scramble to reach her bag and the persistent phone.

“Hello?” Veronica nearly screams into the phone, panting for breath. She hears a moan from the bed.

“Uh, Veronica?”

“Meg! Oh, thank god.”

“Veronica! Where are you?” Meg’s voice is full of worry.

“What? Why?” Veronica cuts guilty eyes at the half-naked boy on the bed. This situation does not describe well, she decides.

“Your Dad just called me because he couldn’t get you on your cell.”

Veronica covers her mouth, eyes widening. She remembers the cover story she told her Dad and kicks herself for not clueing Meg in. She flinches and asks, “What did you tell him?”

“I told him you were still sleeping. And that I’d have you call when you got up.”

“Meg, did I ever tell you you’re my hero?” Veronica nearly laughs with relief.

“Veronica, where the heck are you?”

“I’m in L.A. It’s a...long story. Thanks so much for covering for me. Sorry.”

“L.A.? He’s expecting you home pretty soon, Veronica. He said he has to leave town or something. You need to get back here.”

“Damn. Okay, Meg. If he calls again, stall him, please? Tell him I overdosed on teen heartthrobs and nail polish remover and I can’t talk yet. Or drive. Tell him anything. Just don’t tell him I’m in L.A., okay?”

Meg sighs over the phone. “Okay, Veronica. But you have to tell me the long story. I mean it. Oh hey, any word on my mystery admirer yet? That’s not why you’re in L.A., is it?”

“No and no, but I’m still on the trail.”

“The dance is tonight, you know.”

“I’m so on it, Meg. I gotta run. Thanks a mil.”

“Drive careful.”

“Will do.” Veronica clicks the phone closed and stands up. She sighs and opens it back up, quickly punching a few buttons and listening to her voice mail. Her Dad’s voice doesn’t sound too suspicious.

Yet. Veronica slowly closes the phone again and looks over at the bed. And then there’s the million dollar question: Now what? She walks cautiously towards the bed and the prone figure on it. Her head pounds at about the same rate as her heart, which could best be described as fast.

She leans over and whispers to him. “Logan...”

Nothing.

Veronica reaches out and touches the arm covering his face and shakes it slightly. “Logan...wake up.”

Still nothing.

Veronica sighs. “Logan, you were awake not two minutes ago. Stop faking it.”

He slides his arm lower, revealing one bloodshot eye. “Veronica. For the love of god, stop yelling.” Logan’s voice is so soft she can barely hear him.

“What are you talking about? I’m not yelling.” She looks down at him, confused. “If I yelled, my head would explode. Nobody wants that. Okay, maybe a few people...”

“Please. Stop. My head.” His voice is thick with pain as his arm moves low enough to reveal both eyes. He squints blearily at Veronica.

“Hungover?” Veronica speaks more softly.

He nods. Then, he closes his eyes, grimacing.

Veronica nibbles her bottom lip. “Logan, I have to go.”

He nods again, keeping his eyes closed.

“It’s my Dad. He’s expecting me back.”

Logan nods.

“Will you be okay?”

After several seconds, Logan nods again and drags his arm back over his face. “Close the curtains before you go?” The scratch of his muffled voice makes Veronica frown.

“Yeah, sure.” She turns, a bit too quickly, and wobbles her way over to the curtains, yanking them closed. “Better?”

“Yeah.”

Yeah, that was convincing. Veronica picks up her bag and goes to the door. “Okay. Well. I really do have to go.”

No answer comes from the bed. Veronica hopes he’s asleep again. The door clicks closed behind her and Logan lowers his arm, letting it drop against the bed. He opens his eyes, stares at the ceiling.

“Yeah.” The room falls silent, the aggressively bright morning sun muzzled by the thick curtains. A defiant sliver of light peeks through, slicing across the carpet. Logan’s eyes drift down and watch the dust motes float through the light.

He is still staring into the middle distance, his head pounding, when the door flies open.

“Okay, but we have to hurry.”

Logan’s head snaps toward the door, which makes him grimace in pain. The dirty retort to Veronica’s words can’t fight through the fog of his mind to his mouth. Something about how he likes to take his time. Instead, he comes up with a simpler answer.

“Huh?” His eyes re-focus to find Veronica standing in front of him with a styrofoam cup of coffee in one hand and a clean white button-up shirt in the other. Her hair is a mess, her dress wrinkled, her eye makeup smeared.

Logan thinks she has never looked more beautiful.

If he could string words together, he might even tell her so. He tries to at least participate.

“Where did you...?” He looks at the shirt.

“Questions later. Dress now.” Veronica comes closer, sets the cup down on the side table. “Can you sit up?”

Logan slowly pushes up from the bed, coming very close to throwing up when he does. He struggles up on his elbows and then manages to get into a sitting position. He looks at her from hooded eyes, squinting against both the pain in his head and the confusion about her return.

Veronica ignores the look in his eyes and puts her knee down on the bed to lean closer. She holds the shirt open and after glancing at her face, Logan lifts one arm and slides it in the sleeve. Leaning around him, she offers the other sleeve, which he pulls on. Veronica tugs the shirt around to the front and immediately starts to button it, her little fingers working furiously. “I think it’ll fit. I had to guess.”

Three buttons down, Veronica stops when Logan’s hands cover hers. Her eyes snap to his, which are more intense than she expected. He takes over and finishes the buttons quickly, watching her the whole time as she stands back up. His brain again refuses to divulge his witty reply about how he preferred it when she was telling him to undress instead of vice versa. The words drift just out of reach.

“You came back.” Logan surprises himself by blurting out these particular words. Veronica puts out her hand.

“Yeah.”

Logan hesitates, then slides his hand into hers. He grips it tightly as she coaxes him to his feet. Swaying dangerously, Logan steels himself against his nausea and ventures a smile at Veronica. She gives him an unsteady one back and slowly lets his hand go.

Damn. I should have just left. He would have been fine. Logan’s had more hangovers than most people have had hangnails.

“Thanks for the shirt.”

“I think you should come with me.” Logan is startled enough by her statement that his words start to fall back into place, despite his blinding headache.

“Not sure your Dad would be thrilled.”

“Not to my house, Logan. To Neptune.”

“Why?”

Oh, sure. He’s always got the most difficult question at the ready.

“I just...” Veronica looks everywhere but at Logan, who is trying very hard to remain standing. “...don’t think you should stay here on your own.”

“Afraid I’ll do something dramatic?”

The rapid fire flashes of things Logan could do if left unattended are enough to make Veronica newly dizzy. She swallows her worry and answers with a familiar grin.

“When do you do something that’s not?”

“You wound me, Mars. If I agree, will the talking stop? I’m this close to puking.”

“Oh, Logan.” Veronica swats at him in mock playfulness. “You always know just what to say to make a girl feel special. Really, I’m swooning on the inside.” She pauses. “No wait, that’s just nausea.” Veronica looks at him a bit more closely. “But, you are looking a touch on the green side. Let’s get going.”

Veronica turns to the door, grabbing the coffee from the table. She turns back around when she hears a thump and finds Logan sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. He is even paler than he was before.

“You can’t drive, can you?”

“Yes, I can. Soon as I’m not so dizzy.”

Veronica puts her hands on her hips and makes a snap decision. “I’ll drive you. Only you’d have to leave your car...”

She tries to hide her surprise when Logan readily agrees to ride with her. “I’ll have the hotel send it.”

Veronica knits her brow in confusion. “They’ll do that?”

Logan just looks up at her, one eyebrow lifted. Veronica rolls her eyes, sticks her hand out again, tugging Logan to his feet. “Oh, right. Money, fame. Buys everything. Check.” She lets him go and starts for the door again, this time with Logan a few steps behind her.

“Not everything.” Logan mutters under his breath and Veronica’s expression flinches, as a picture of his rich and famous mother swan-diving from a bridge pops in her head.

You’ll need that foot for driving, Veronica. Best keep it out of your mouth.

Veronica drops back a step to fall in with Logan as they make their way to the elevator. She glances over at him and thinks he could really use some water or coffee or possibly intravenous fluids. Since the majority of his intake yesterday was alcohol and his output was mostly tears, he’s a bit of a wreck. He leans against the wall by the elevator while they wait, eyes closed. They pop open when the elevator dings its arrival and Veronica steps in with Logan close on her heels, still silent.

At least it’s not painfully awkward or anything between us.

Veronica shakes her head and glances at Logan, his eyes closed once again. Her expression softens and for not the first time, she reaches out to take his hand. They reach the first floor right then and Veronica covers her gesture by pulling him out of the elevator.

“Geez, Veronica. I like my arm in the socket if you don’t mind.” Veronica smiles, the touch of bite in Logan’s voice more welcome than he could know. She keeps smiling when she notices that as they head for the lobby doors, he doesn’t actually let go.


On to Chapter 11: The Open Road