Chapter 7: Game Over


Logan takes one shot with a quick flip of his head and sets the glass down, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand. Veronica watches him the entire time, unmoving. He begins to pour himself another shot before speaking. “You’re not going to try and get out of this, are you? Three measly half shots?” He looks up, meets Veronica’s eyes and glances at her half-full glass. “Hello?”

Veronica shakes her head, trying to shift her thoughts into some semblance of order. Finally, she musters up enough composure to answer. “Three, huh?”

“That’s what I said.” Logan chucks the newest empty bottle into the trashcan with a clang.

“Because I was wrong on the last one?”

Logan looks at her, brow slightly furrowed. “Yeah. You know, you’re usually a lot quicker on the uptake, Veronica. Are you sure you’re not feeling something?”

Well, that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it, Logan? But I think he’s actually referring to the alcohol.

“No, no. I was just wondering something about what you said about me and...”

Logan cuts her off. “Remember, the game was Bullshit, not Twenty Questions. I believe I was told that by a certain little blonde taskmaster not too long ago.” He pauses, looks back to his glass. “It’s ancient history, anyway.” He takes the next shot, never looking at her.

Veronica bites her bottom lip, not sure if she’s disappointed at his words or relieved. She’s equally unsure if she believes him, as his lack of eye contact is not exactly a sign of truth-telling.

He opens up a little and then when you poke your head in, slams the door on it. Fine, Logan. I’ll let it lie for now.

She reaches for the half-filled shot glass in front of her, eyes barely leaving Logan as he fills his third. Catching up the glass between her thumb and index finger, Veronica squinches her face up in anticipation and throws the vodka as far back in her throat as she can. She coughs slightly as she places the glass down with a quiet clink.

The silence thickens as Logan drinks another shot. Eyes lowered, Veronica sees his hand shake ever so slightly as he puts the glass on the table once again. Her eyes follow his hands as he twists the lid off another bottle, fumbling slightly. He empties the contents into the glass and chucks the bottle towards the trash can again. With a loud clatter, the bottle hits the rim and bounces off, rolling under the nearby armchair. Veronica finally looks up from his hands to Logan’s face, but he isn’t looking at her. After a few seconds, she realizes he won’t look at her.

With a sigh, Veronica leans over and grabs another bottle of Absolut. Her head is starting to get a bit fuzzy and she pauses, a thought occurring to her. The fact that this thought has not yet occurred to her gives her even more pause.

“I...I don’t think I should drink anymore.”

Logan snorts. “Deal’s a deal, Veronica. It’s only one more full shot. You can’t get out of it that easy.”

“Is this that peer pressure all the kids are talking about? Insidious.”

Logan looks over at her, shot glass in his hand. “You’re backing out? I’ve heard a lot of things about you, Mars, but I never heard you were a coward.”

Veronica nods. “Heard a lot of things? Don’t you mean you’ve said a lot of things? I’m not scared, Logan.” She glares at him. “And do you always get this abrasive when you’ve been drinking? Oh, wait! You do it when you’re sober, too. Silly me.”

“Fine. Whatever. And if I am allowed to ask, why is it you are suddenly taking a vow of temperance?”

“I won’t be able to drive anytime soon if I drink more.” Veronica is growing more and more uncomfortable with this line of questioning. Too much awkward truth lies underneath it. Logan has been known to read her like a book and she’s afraid he’ll sniff out the truth beneath her lie.

“When do you have to leave?” His shoulders slump ever so slightly as he brings the glass almost to his lips.

Veronica frowns, confused at the sudden turn of the conversation. “What are you talking about? I just meant that...”

“Don’t you have a curfew or something? Someone who gives a shit if you don’t come home?” His voice is sharp, but she recognizes the tone for what it is. He’s hurt. Bitter. Entirely too used to being abandoned. Logan slings the shot back and slams the glass down.

“I...didn’t mean....” She sighs, reading the hard line of his back as Logan withdrawing. “Not ‘til later.” Veronica leaves it vague. She knows full well she’s not leaving him alone. The thought of what Logan could do to himself on his own is unacceptable.

Truth is, she doesn’t trust herself. Veronica can already feel her reasoning abilities dulling around the edges from the few shots she’s had. Hearing about Logan’s long ago crush on her gave her a secret thrill and that worries her. Looking at him half-naked is giving her another larger, still-secret thrill and that worries her a lot.

Logan starts to pour another shot, the neck of the bottle clinking against the glass as he does.

“Logan?” He doesn’t stop, doesn’t look up. “Logan. You’ve had your four shots. Game’s over.”

He finishes pouring, throwing the bottle over his shoulder without looking. The little bottle rolls under the side table, missing the trash can completely. He puts his hand out, fingers just touching the edge of the glass. Suddenly, he looks at her and Veronica feels a sharp sadness. The tide is rushing in. He is really hurting now. “It’s not a game, Veronica.” Logan’s eyes swing back to the glass in front of him.

She shakes her head slightly, sure Logan’s self-destructive streak is rubbing off on her. Taking the bottle of Absolut, she dumps it into her shot glass, spilling slightly to the side. Veronica picks it up and moves it towards Logan’s, clinking against the side. Startled, he looks up at her.

She nods, a small smile touching her mouth in what she hopes is a show of solidarity. Without waiting for his response, she tips the entire shot down. Coughing lightly, she catches a drop on her lip with her little finger as she returns the glass to the table.

Veronica glances at Logan, and she can almost see the wheels turning in his mind. His eyes travel from her empty glass to her face and back before he drinks his down. The realization that she has just prevented herself from leaving him anytime in the near future unfolds slowly across his face.

Looks like I’m sticking around. Which I knew, but he didn’t. Now if the room would just stop the slow spinning.

“Can you hand me my bag, Logan?”

“What? But you said...” His eyes snap to hers, forehead creasing.

“I just need my phone. If I’m not coming home by curfew, I need to call my Dad.”

“Oh.” The look of relief mixed with several other indefinable emotions makes Veronica flinch. She’s not sure she wants this kind of power over his tumult.

Logan reaches over the side of the couch and gets her bag while Veronica’s eyes are drawn over his chest.

Seriously. Has Logan been working out?

Veronica sits back, arranging herself into a more appropriate and less gawking position as Logan hands over her bag.

Cell phone in hand, Veronica holds her finger to her lips. “Not a word or he’ll track my cell phone and send the National Guard to find me and ‘disappear’ whoever I’m with, got it?”

Logan zips his lips, nodding. Veronica fixes him with a serious look long enough to make sure he’s not too drunk to comply. Logan puts his hands up and leans back on the couch, eyes closed.

Shaking her head, Veronica hits a button on her phone and waits.

“Dad! Hi. Yeah, I’m still with Meg. Party was fine. Bit wild for my taste, though, so we’re hitting the senior citizen home, playing some canasta.” Logan sits up, choking on a laugh, and Veronica glares at him. “Yep, I’m taking Mr. Goldstein for all he’s worth. I just got us a time-share at Laguna Beach.” She chuckles, listens for a minute, a smile tugging at her mouth.

Logan watches, various emotions warring on his face. Finally, he leans back on the couch, eyes sliding closed once again.

“Uh-huh. So, actually Meg invited me to stay over and do some of those teen girl things you’ve been raving I should do. My hair’s half-braided as we speak.” Pause. “Yeah, so I’ll see you in the morning.” Sigh. “Of course not, Dad. Yes. Right. See you then.” Veronica clicks the phone closed and slides it into her bag.

“In the morning, huh?” Logan doesn’t move, eyes still closed. Before she can answer, he continues, “What did he ask you at the end there?”

Veronica looks over quickly, but he’s not looking at her. She laughs. “First of all, nosy. Second of all, he asked if there were any boys there. At Meg’s. So technically, that tiny part of my conversation was not a lie. Mrs. Manning would be having a fit.”

“You get along pretty well with your Dad.” It’s not a question so much as a statement.

“Yeah. He’s great.” Veronica can feel herself squirming, Trina’s words echoing in her mind.

“Must be nice. Mine’s a bastard. It’s genetic, you know. My Dad is a bastard, his Dad was a bastard. I come from a long line of Echolls bastards. It’s my destiny.” He leans forward, trying to fill another shot glass, but mostly spilling Jack Daniels on the table.

“It’s not. Doesn’t have to be.” Veronica’s hand shoots out, holding his wrist as he tries to lift the shot glass to his mouth. The contact makes him jump. He laughs mirthlessly and looks at Veronica with eyes dulled by pain and alcohol. “Stop, okay?” She is looking at the glass and his mouth hardens at her request.

“Why?”

Sure. Ask a good question, why don’t you?

“Because the game is over. And I don’t want you to play anymore. I don’t want to play anymore.” Veronica frowns at him, her hand still holding his wrist.

Their eyes lock until Logan finally loses the war of attrition and gives in. His hand moves back to the table, releasing the shot glass.

Well, that was surprising.

“Ah, would you look at that? All my fine work wasted.”

Logan looks confused. “What are you -?”

“Your hand, Logan.” Veronica turns the hand attached to the wrist she is holding until he can see the stripe of red pushing through the gauze.

“Huh. Didn’t even feel it.” His voice and motions are getting looser as the alcohol starts taking more effect.

“I’d be surprised if you could feel a Mack truck hitting you right about now. You’re hammered.”

“Not really.” Logan rolls his eyes at her look. “Okay, somewhat. From the Lester side of the family, I get an amazing alcohol tolerance. Hit the genetic jackpot, didn’t I?” The bitter edge mixed with self-pity is so unusual on Logan that Veronica doesn’t know what to do with it except change the subject as quickly as possible.

Veronica shakes her head, trying not to pull him any further down this road. “Come with me before you bleed out all over the couch.” She stands up, letting go of his wrist finally. He stays slumped on the couch until she puts her hands on her hips and fixes him with a glare. Finally, Logan pulls himself to his feet, swaying dangerously as he does.

“Easy, slugger.” Veronica grabs onto his upper arms, holding him a little steadier. Her small size and recent intake of vodka do not make her the ideal stabilizer for the force of nature that is Logan Echolls, but she manages.

With a few near stumbles and some cajoling, Veronica gets Logan to the bathroom for a redress of his cut. This time he doesn’t even pretend he’s not watching her. His eyes are burning into her in the glaring white of the bathroom. She finishes wrapping the fresh gauze and tapes it shut.

“There. Now, if you don’t mind, could you try not to -“

“Why are you here, Veronica?” Unlike when they first arrived in the hotel room, the question is not meant to hurt. Veronica looks up at him as she recognizes the different inflection. The question is not meant as an accusation, a dismissal, an attack. It’s almost a plea.

She drops her eyes, resumes smoothing his gauze as she stalls, before she realizes this means she is standing there stroking Logan’s hand. Veronica freezes as Logan’s good hand reaches up to brush her cheek. Her entire mind and body freak out.

On the inside.

This is not happening. No way in hell am I going to kiss him. Quick. Make your mouth busy, Veronica. Talk!

She blurts it out. “Because you needed someone.”

His hand moves away from her cheek to rest on her shoulder. “Since when do people stay just because I need them?” Logan’s voice is soft, the words delivered without bite.

“Since tonight.” These last two words are firm and delivered to Logan directly. He stands and stares at her for a solid ten seconds before nodding. She can’t help but think the two of them have just officially agreed to something. A truce, maybe?

Veronica steps back slightly, out of his personal space. A bit of the old awkwardness comes back as she collects the first aid materials again. Her heart is racing under her calm exterior as she realizes how hard it was to move away. Her attraction to him is rattling her badly.

“Can you excuse me, Logan? I need to...”

Have a nervous breakdown.

“...use the bathroom.”

Logan catches her eye for a second and nods before turning and leaving the bathroom, swaying slightly. Veronica closes the door behind him and exhales loudly.

Here we go again. Maybe I could just stay in the bathroom this time. Eliminate the chance of anything happening.

After a few minutes of both actually taking advantage of the facilities and reminding herself she is a little tipsy and he is definitely drunk, Veronica goes to the door to leave. Hand on the knob, she takes a couple deep breaths.

She heads out into the room, eyes going to the couch, which is empty. She looks to the window, but he’s not there, either.

Finally, the sound of movement catches her attention. Her eyes swing slowly over to the bed and that’s where she finds Logan.

Asleep.


On to Chapter 8: Third Time's A Charm