Chapter 14: Normal is Overrated



Many hours later, Veronica crashes back into her apartment, slinging her keys on the counter and her bag in the nearest chair. She drops down on the couch with a sigh.

Well, that was not a normal day. Of course.

She had walked into the sheriff’s office with two purposes earlier that day. The first one was to convince Carl to come with her to Manny’s and get a sketch of Meg’s mystery admirer. Talking a police sketch artist into working for no money to generate a drawing of a high school kid who sent anonymous flowers to one of her friends was easy as pie compared to the other task she faced.

Then there was task number two, which had been a two-step process. First, there was telling Leo the favor he did for her by tracking phone numbers almost got a guy in the federal witness protection found by the mob. After that, the process of de-flirting with Leo came easier than expected. Veronica rubs her eyes, remembering the hurt in his eyes when he saw she was retreating.

He’s convinced I used him again. And I don’t have much proof I didn’t. Maybe I’ve been using him this whole time?

It’s the only explanation Veronica can come up with for why she would push away a nice upstanding young - okay, slightly older - man for a screwed up teenager like Logan.

Maybe it’s got something to do with the fact that I’m a screwed up teenager, too?

She had naively believed she could just go into the sheriff’s office to get Leo off the phone number search and then leave to talk to Carl, but it became obvious within minutes that Leo wanted to pick up the flirtation where they left off the day before. Veronica had to admit to herself right then that her heart wasn’t in it anymore.

Where her heart is at this exact moment is under serious debate.

Before she can consider it further, she slides her phone out of her pocket and flips it open. Setting her jaw, she quickly toggles through her options and hits Send. When the first ring goes through, she feels slightly queasy with nervousness. On the second ring, she starts to hold her breath. The third ring causes a mix of fear and disappointment.

He’s not answering. Lots of good reasons for that. Busy. Asleep. Drunk. Trapped under something heavy. She shakes her head, realizing one of the first three is much more likely.

The sound of Logan’s voice snaps her attention back to the phone.

“.... Logan with today’s inspirational greeting: ‘A slip of the foot you may soon recover, but a slip of the tongue you may never get over.’ Benjamin Franklin. Leave a message. beep”

Veronica is so flustered by the way Logan lingered over the word tongue, making that single syllable impossibly dirty, she snaps the phone shut without speaking. She feels herself flush slightly at the implication of his message.

And I’m going with number three on my list of reasons. He sounded on the drunk side. No other way he could make an innocent quote by a founding father sound so naughty.

She puts the phone down on the coffee table, eyeing it like it might jump back in her hand of its own accord. Veronica hops up to make dinner, if making microwave mac and cheese could be categorized as ‘making dinner.’

She is settled into the couch, her bowl of ‘dinner' sitting empty on the side table, when a knock at the door distracts her from the Simpsons blaring on the television. Grabbing the remote and shutting off the TV, she feels her heart race a little.

When did I turn into this girl? Heart a-flutter because the asshole turned suitor could possibly maybe be at my door unannounced? The surge of sudden frustration at her somewhat involuntary reaction to Logan fades as she walks to the door. His lack of a phone call all day has only fed into her belief that last night was a fluke of some kind. An empathy-driven lapse of judgment on her part and irrational sorrow driving him to his own mistake.

So, why her heart drops into her stomach when she finds Meg on the other side of her door is a question she doesn’t really want to answer. Veronica stares blankly at Meg a few minutes later, after the reveal that she is now accompanying Meg to the school 80’s dance.

“You’re kidding, right? A school function which requires me to dress in costume from one of the least tasteful decades of the last century? Have you been reading my nightmare journal again?”

Meg grins, pushing past a stunned Veronica and heading for her room. “Now, I’ve got a few options with me, so you can pick what you want to wear.”

Veronica trails behind her. “Did you hear me, Meg? There’s no way...”

“...remember that little favor I did for you this morning?”

Veronica pauses in her doorway, watching Meg lay out various skirts and tops on the bed. Meg studiously avoids looking at her.

“Ouch. So, dressing me up like a tramp and dragging me to a room full of people who already think I am one, is the payback?”

“You’d also be doing me a favor. I want to go and I hate the idea of going alone. Please, Veronica?” Meg looks up hopefully.

Sighing, Veronica enters the room and surveys the clothes on the bed, hands on her hips. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Meg claps her hands together and starts pulling outfits together.

* * *

Strapped into one of the more uncomfortable outfits she’s ever worn, Veronica flinches as Meg brings the crimping iron a bit too close to her face.

“Tell me again why you have this insidious device of hair torture?”

Meg squeezes another swatch of Veronica’s blonde between the paddles of the iron. “Moment of weakness. Seemed like a fun idea at the time.”

“That must have been some time you were having.” Veronica grimaces as Meg releases the latest bit of hair, which is now in kinked waves. A familiar sound faintly reaches her ears. It takes a second for her to register it. “Oh, that’s my cell. Be right back.” Veronica ducks away from the iron and makes a beeline for the living room.

She grabs the phone and opens it in one motion. “Yeah?”

“Is that how you always answer the phone, Mars?”

Oh god. Logan. Feeling wholly unprepared to suddenly speak to the object of her confused and possibly twisted affections, Veronica gulps and finds herself short on words. A rare event.

“Oh! Um, hey.” Her voice practically screams her nervousness and she quickly hears it echoed over the phone line.

“Hey.”

This conversation is off to a rousing start. Veronica glances over her shoulder towards her room where Meg is checking her hair.

“It’s Logan. You busy?”

Like I didn’t know it was him on the word ‘is’.

“No, uh... well, I’m going out soon.”

“Why, Veronica. You’ve turned into quite the socialite.”

Veronica looks down at the ensemble Meg has just squeezed her into and grimaces. “Logan, somehow I don’t think a bustier and lace skirt are all the rage on the debutante scene.”

Logan falls silent on the other end and Veronica cringes at her description. Before she can explain, she hears him snort a little laugh. “Hot date?” She could swear there is the slightest tightness in his tone, but she immediately decides she imagined it.

“Yeah, Meg is smoking hot.”

This time, Logan chokes. “Wha - what?”

She ignores him. “We’re going to the 80’s dance at school.”

“Oh.”

Silence fills the air and Veronica resists the urge to ask Logan why he called her in the first place.

“Veronica, I’ve got more crimping to do!” Meg calls from Veronica’s room.

“Look, Logan. I...have to go.”

“Right. So, Madonna, right? Lucky Star or Like A Virgin?”

This time it’s Veronica’s turn to stutter. “Wh-what?”

“Which are you dressed like?”

“How did you - yes.” Veronica smiles into the phone. “And Lucky Star. All black. Definite boytoy territory.”

His deep laugh over the phone sends a shot of warmth through Veronica. Before he can comment, she interjects. “The belt. It says boytoy. Remember?”

“I remember, Veronica.” The voice reaching her through the phone is warm and full of thinly veiled suggestion.

He’s gone and changed subjects on me again, I think. What exactly is he remembering?

Feeling the familiar flush building, Veronica escapes. “I should go.”

“Have fun at the dance, Veronica.” The line disconnects before she can reply and Veronica stares at the phone, frowning. He wanted to say something else, she’s sure of it. Before she can settle on what it could be, Meg’s voice chirps to her from the other room once again.

“Coming...”

* * *

The night air chases goosebumps up Veronica’s unclad arms as she breaks free of the stifling air inside the school. Hot tears slip over her cheeks despite her best attempts at holding them back. Wiping her face with the back of scratchy lace gloves, she rounds the back of her car and crashes directly into...

“Logan?!”

His arms shoot out to grab her arms, holding her steady. She looks up at him and sees an instant reaction there to her tears.

“Veronica? What happened? Did someone-” He looks over her shoulder menacingly at the school and Veronica experiences the unfamiliar experience of having a boy willing to defend her honor. The fact that the boy is Logan actually exceeds her ability to process it.

“No, no. It’s not like that. It - it’s nothing.”

Logan lifts a hand from her upper arm to gesture at her face. “Clearly.”

She is relieved to feel no new tears forming and she deftly steers the questions back toward Logan.

“What are you doing here, anyway? You’re about as up for school functions as...well, I am.”

Neatly dodging her question, Logan replies, “Where’s Meg? Did you two have a fight?”

Veronica wonders how long they can maintain this conversation without actually answering any of the questions posed. “Yeah, I totally kicked her ass. I fight dirty.”

“I figured. Meg looks like a hair puller, though.”

“Luckily the two cans of hairspray on my ‘do tonight make it impervious to harm.”

Logan chuckles, fingers slipping into her kinked and stiffened hair. “And here I thought this was natural.”

Veronica turns her eyes up to him, instantly noticing that he still has one hand around her arm and the other in her hair. The proximity of his body is unnerving to say the least. He sways the tiniest bit and Veronica realizes something. Logan has been drinking. Possibly a lot.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“I’ve had a few.” He grins at her, hand sliding down her arm slowly.

“A few what? Bottles?” Veronica cocks her head at him. She doesn’t miss the look in his eyes, either. The sadness hasn’t gone away. It’s just drowning in whiskey.

“So, really. What’s going on? Why did you leave?”

“If you must know, Meg and Duncan are in there dancing. Which is a good reason for me to be out here. I’ve never made a good third wheel.”

“Meg dumped you for Duncan? That bitch.” An involuntary smile tugs at Veronica’s mouth and is instantly matched by Logan’s.

Veronica steps back slightly, bumping into her car. Her eyes drop down over Logan’s outfit and back up to his face, surprise etched on her features. “Are you dressed up for the dance?”

Logan steps away, breaking contact with Veronica and spins around once, hands going to flip his blazer’s collar up around his neck. “Nothing gets past you.”

Veronica tilts her head and takes in the outfit. Jeans. White button-up shirt, untucked. Likely the same one from this morning. A blue blazer, collar upturned, sleeves rolled up. “I think I need a hint. Unless it’s just generic 80’s?”

“Nothing generic about me, Madonna. Okay, I hate the paparazzi.”

“I know you do. What’s that have to do with the outfit?”

“No, I mean my character does. Well, I do too, so I figured I could be more convincing this way.”

Veronica chews her lip, thinking. “A celebrity who hates the paparazzi? You’re going to have to narrow it down.”

“Oh wait, I have props.” Logan pulls open his jacket and slides a flask out of his inside pocket. “I’m a big fan of the contents of this little guy. My character, I mean. I’m too young.” Logan unscrews the top and takes a swig.

Veronica shakes her head.

Logan pauses, his eyes giving Veronica a once-over that makes her instantly more aware that she is wearing very little. “And I like blondes.”

Veronica swallows, hard. “You or your character?”

“Both.” Logan winks as he takes one more drink and then slides the flask back in his jacket.

Veronica feels herself unable to fight back a smile and realizes she’s not thought of Duncan since she crashed into Logan five minutes ago. She looks down, and then at Logan, thinking.

He steps closer to her, fully in her personal space. Veronica tries to back up, but all she feels is the cool glass of her car window. She has nowhere to go.

“Do you need one more hint?” Logan’s breath is warm, whiskey-scented and very very close.

Veronica’s hands slide down to press against the car, the cool metal breaking the heat coursing through her. Logan leans toward her, head inclined.

“Maybe just one more.” Veronica licks her lips, her eyes sliding to his mouth and up to his eyes in a heartbeat.

Veronica’s eyes slide closed as she feels Logan’s hand slide up the side of her neck and into her hair. The trail of warmth across her chilled skin makes her shiver. His other arm slips around her waist and pulls her closer, giving over some of his warmth. And then with a shocking amount of tenderness, his lips press against hers. Veronica’s hands come forward to grab his jacket as the kiss continues. Logan’s mouth moves on hers, increasing the pressure. Just as quick as it started, the kiss ends. Veronica looks up at him, their mouths a breath apart. Veronica has her wits about her enough to breathe out a question. “Was that the hint?”

Logan nods, hands slowly releasing her as he steps back. He looks nervous for the first time since he arrived and if the butterflies banging against her ribcage are any indication, Veronica is nervous, too.

“Something you or your character would do?” Veronica gives herself only a split second to decide how she wants him to answer that question.

“Both.” Logan smiles a little and nods at her outfit and for the first time, Veronica looks down at her confection of lace and corsetry and then at his outfit. When she looks up, the truth is all over her face.

“Sean Penn?” She grins, knowing she’s figured it out.

“Someone give the lady a prize. By the way, nice outfit.”

Let’s recap. Logan dressed like Sean Penn, knowing I was dressed like Madonna? I hope this doesn’t mean we are destined to make horrible movies together.

“Yeah, it’s both binding and chafing. I’ll remember to thank Meg for it later.”

“So, did you want go back in?” Logan gestures at the door.

“Nah. The music sucks. It’s all from, like, the 80’s or something.” Veronica wrinkles her nose, smiling.

“Sounds awful. Thanks for the warning.”

“Sure.” Veronica darts her eyes down to the ground, back to the school and up at Logan. He rubs his hand across the back of his neck, glancing away from the school and then back to her. Veronica toys with one of the rosaries around her neck before realizing she is drawing Logan’s eyes right to her bustier. She drops her hands suddenly. Logan jams his hands in the pockets of his blazer, eyes to the ground.

Veronica blurts out, “You wanna get out of here?”

When Logan’s eyes lift, the haunted look fades momentarily. He smiles at her.

“Thought you’d never ask.”


On to Chapter 15: Old Dance, New Partners