Chapter 9: Around and Around

She’s not sure how long it takes, but Veronica holds on tight until Logan’s sobs begin to subside. Her body shakes along with his and she feels helpless in the face of his grief, with only her little hands and small sounds to stem the tide. The fact that he finally stops is a relief. The fact that he makes no move to release her when he does is a bit of a surprise.

As his cries resolve themselves to sniffles, Veronica realizes just how tight he is holding her. Her bare legs are entangled with his still-covered ones. His cheek is still pressed into the crook of her shoulder. Logan’s hand on her back moves up slowly, skimming from fabric to skin, flattening against the top of her spine, keeping her pulled flush against him. Veronica feels his hot tears evaporating from her skin in the perfectly climate-controlled room. She shivers slightly both from the sensation and the chill on her skin.

“Cold?” His voice is thick, muffled against her. The warmth of his breath against her skin makes her shiver again, but it has nothing to do with temperature.

“No.” Veronica lies. She lies to keep him there. She doesn’t even question the lie. It should feel completely foreign to be wrapped up in Logan on this strange bed and to lie to keep him there, but it doesn’t.

On an awkwardness scale of 1 to 10, this should be a 42. So, why isn’t it?

Veronica feels a little surge of panic as feelings unbidden push into her consciousness, clamoring to answer her question.

“Liar.” His word is a whisper, and there is the slightest brush of warm lips and air against her neck. Every hair on the back of her neck stands up as Veronica tries to figure out if he did that on purpose. She feels Logan separating from her and fights the urge to pull him back. Veronica doesn’t look at him so he can’t see the disappointment that she barely wants to admit to herself.

But then, his hand skimming across her back as he pulls away, Logan dips his face back towards hers, features cast in blue by the moonlight. “Wait here.” His eyes are impenetrable, cheeks streaked with fading tears. And yet, there is a tenderness there that Veronica may have to get used to, if its constant reappearance is any clue.

A little thrill shoots through Veronica while her mind tells all the thrills to stop their shooting right this minute.

One drunk kiss does not change things. Me and Logan? Logan? Logan, with more baggage than most major airlines? Combined, the two of us could bring LAX to a screeching halt. Then, there’s the best friend’s ex-boyfriend, ex-boyfriend’s best friend tongue twister of doom. Not to even mention the pain in my ass, thorn in my side, broke my headlights side of him. It’s just... no. Logan is off limits in a thousand different ways. This is all the effects of half-nakedness and loss and sympathy and meaningful looks exchanged over too much alcohol. This is where it ends.

Veronica nods, sure that she has fully convinced herself with all the completely sane and logical reasons she will prevent any further mistakes like that painfully gentle first kiss.

Of course, it was a very good first kiss. Last kiss. I’m just saying.

Seconds later, her thoughts are interrupted by the sensation of a soft blanket covering her, sliding over her skin. No expense is spared at the Sunset Regent. Even the throw blankets are handmade in some far off country. Logan’s hands touch on the blanket briefly, smoothing it over her arms. Then he stands up and steps back from the bed, looking down at her. She notices he sways slightly, the only outward sign of his alcohol consumption. He wasn’t kidding about his tolerance, it seems. Veronica thinks it’s a good thing there is limited light available because the little she can see in his expression is haunting. She can make out his eyes, dark and sad, and she feels her own face shift to echo his emotion.

“Sorry, Veronica.” His voice is still low, thick and she misses the edge it usually carries. Veronica actually wishes he would just insult her. Be mean. Do anything but stand in front of her and just hurt.

“For?”

“Broke my promise. I think that constituted touching you.” He gestures at the bed, recalling their position only moments ago.

“Technically, I touched you first.” She gives him a small smile and he drops his eyes, a touch of a smile playing across his lips. The touch was one hell of a first kiss and they both know it. The question that lies between them is whether there will be a second.

So much for those nice sane reasons for not continuing this thing. I don’t think flirting is exactly the best way to nip it in the bud.

“Off the hook on a technicality. Story of my life.” She can see the muscles in his arm twitch, cast in shadow. He is tense, hands jammed in his pockets. Logan looks away toward the couch and back at her. Veronica has never seen him struggle so much for both words and actions.

“It’s okay, Logan.” And she’s trying to tell him more than that. The rest of the words lodge in her throat, fixed by a lump of emotion newly formed. She wants to say that it’s okay that he touched her, that he cried. That it’s okay if he wants to get back in the bed. That it’s okay that he hurts, that he misses his mother, that he can’t believe she’s really truly gone. That it’s okay if he’s a little bit broken, a little bit damaged because she is too. That it’s okay that neither of them know what the hell is going on in this hotel room.

But he is so far from okay, she can’t say any of it.

Veronica sits up, the blanket slipping down her arms to puddle in her lap. She can only repeat the mantra. “It’s okay, Logan.”

Logan stares at her, looks to the couch and back at her. Finally, he nods. Even so, he stays rooted to the spot until she lifts the blanket slightly, tilting her head in silent invitation. Her smile is reassuring, undemanding and he reacts with a small version of the same smile.

Logan takes one step closer and then another. The mattress moves under his weight as he returns to the bed. Veronica watches him shift closer to her, sliding under the blanket. And then he stops. He stops when his arm brushes hers. It’s all she can do to not react. Veronica felt less awkward when she was wrapped up in him than she does now. His proximity is making her more and more nervous. Her lack of self-assurance, usually a constant companion, is very unnerving. Almost as unnerving as Logan’s lack of sniping at her.

Wish I knew if we were grieving or making out. Maybe we’re doing both.

Veronica looks over at Logan right as he glances at her. He looks so exhausted, so worn around the edges. So beaten. The night full of holding back his sadness, of trying to drown it with alcohol, has taken its toll. For the first time all night, Veronica feels her eyes fill. Her new empathy for Logan is suddenly overwhelming.

Or maybe...we’re just going to rest.

Veronica moves right past all the awkwardness suddenly. It’s not about what the kiss meant. She pushes that aside. She’s been here for him all night and she can do it again. Veronica actually feels compelled to do it again. Without demands or answers or anything else she would normally insist on.

Not letting his eyes drift from hers, Veronica lifts her hand off her hip. He doesn’t look away from her even as it comes up to light on his shoulder. As her hand skims across his bare skin, he doesn’t break eye contact. Veronica’s fingers slip up his neck, the tips just parting his hair. With mostly her eyes and a little with the light pressure of her hand, Veronica draws Logan closer.

Finally, his eyes slide closed as Veronica angles to press her lips softly to his forehead. She holds the kiss there, her fingers still woven in his short hair. Veronica continues to press her lips to his skin until she feels him break a little. Logan makes a little sound, like a catch in his throat. A sound she only hears because she is listening for it. It’s him letting go.

Both his arms come around to encircle her, one under and one over, pulling her body across the bed to him. When she feels her body press against his, she finally lifts her lips from his head. She slides down him, feeling her skirt shift up, her bare legs grazing the rough cotton of his pants. Veronica touches her mouth to his cheek, right by his eye. and hears him exhale. Just a little. She feels his arms tighten around her, almost to the point of pain.

Veronica knows the two of them have skipped about ten pages of the manual. They are supposed to go through the awkward stages of who likes who and the first date and the fidgeting on the front porch. They are not supposed to share a first kiss in a dark hotel room and then mold their half-naked bodies so close together air has trouble getting through.

Logan loosens his grip the tiniest bit and Veronica’s entire body responds by tightening as she then feels his mouth against the edge of her jaw line. It’s a brush, barely a kiss. But it’s contact.

And she shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t be contemplating the cut of his arms or the lines of his chest. She shouldn’t be focusing on every square inch where their skin is touching, warm and soft. She shouldn’t be thinking of how glad she is that Duncan told her Logan was still here. She really shouldn’t let her mind wander into the dark possibilities of what he would have done without her present tonight.

And mothers shouldn’t jump off bridges, leaving their sons behind to the fathers who beat them, either.

Veronica frowns at her careening train of thought. She has to wonder what is going on in Logan’s mind if her thoughts are this haywire. Veronica fights back a sigh as they hold each other in silence. It’s the first time she’s realized she is also angry.

Life, as they say, is unfair. And also, a bitch.

Her hand strokes his hair, instincts telling her he is shutting down. Since he is a 17 year old boy, Veronica figures part of him wants to do more than sleep in this position, but the part of him raw with loss is winning out. She slips down slightly, head pillowed high on his chest. Veronica takes a deep breath, picks up a scent she recognizes as distinctly Logan. Some accidental combination of soap and insanely expensive hair gel. It’s the careless scent of a boy and Veronica has to admit she likes it.

Veronica feels Logan’s breathing begin to slow, to even out. She has been quiet for minutes on end now and even more amazing, so has he. Her hand falls lightly on his chest as his arms slacken around her. Her mind starts to wander, sleep coming more quickly thanks to the alcohol in her system. With as much as he had, she’s amazed he stayed conscious this long.

The world fades to cottony black as she realizes with gratitude that Logan doesn’t snore.

~ ~ ~

Minutes or hours later, Veronica struggles out of a deep sleep. For the space of several seconds, she’s not sure where she is or what woke her. Her eyes widen as she finally places the sensation. A hand is on her thigh. A surge of panic fills Veronica as she struggles with her bearings. She holds her breath as flashes of the night before scatter through her mind at breakneck speed.

Finally, the pieces fall into place. It’s Logan’s hand that is now moving up her outer thigh, pushing under the soft fabric of her skirt easily. A rapid burst of electricity shoots up her spine as his hand comes to rest on the soft curve of her hip. In her sleep, Veronica’s head has slipped over onto his upper arm. She can just angle her eyes up enough to see his face without moving.

He’s still asleep. So...he’s sleep-groping? Veronica tries to concentrate on what to do now but the weight of Logan’s warm hand on her hip is mightily distracting. And then, her concentration is shattered by the sound of her name. Logan’s voice is still distant, thick with sleep. Moonlight washes over his face, letting her look more closely, and he definitely seems to be asleep.

In the next minute, Veronica sees his brow furrow, his head shake slightly. The hand on her hip tenses, his fingertips digging into her skin.

“No. No...” His head begins to shake back and forth more quickly. A nightmare is taking hold of him, pushing his other, clearly more pleasant dream into the background.

Veronica sees him being pulled down and acts without thinking it through, still sleepy and out of sorts from his contact. One hand finds his under her skirt and squeezes it. After a second, he squeezes back but still seems to be growing more and more distressed.

“Logan? Logan...” She tries not to startle him awake. Veronica just wants to lure him back out of the darkness. She moves her hand up to touch his cheek, lightly tapping it. “Logan, wake up. It’s a nightmare.” She speaks quietly, insistently. Without realizing it, she moves closer and closer to him as she speaks until her lips are mere inches away.

“No...don’t...” His voice is breaking, his eyes still squeezed tightly shut and Veronica just can’t take it anymore.

Her next actions explain how Logan wakes up with Veronica’s tongue in his mouth. He jumps in surprise, nightmare dissolving into the night. Logan can feel her tense when she realizes he is awake and he answers her kiss with equal fervor. He is suddenly and instantly wide awake, memories of his earlier dream driving him on. The hand on her hip curls into the edge of her cotton panties, tugging her flush to him once again. He can feel her hand holding his jaw, keeping him there. Her mouth is soft, insistent on his. Her tongue pushes against his, asking and telling at the same time. It’s a different kiss than the first one they shared and Logan realizes suddenly he better stop this before it goes too far. He takes a deep internal breath and lets go.

They break apart with a gasp and Veronica’s hand comes back to touch her bottom lip. “You’re awake.”

“You noticed.”

“You were having a...nightmare, I think.”

Logan smiles wryly. “And so you kissed me?”

“Well, I panicked. And... you kissed me back.” Veronica shakes her head at her less than witty retort.

“I don’t often wake up with a girl’s tongue down my throat. I went with my instincts.”

Veronica squirms, trying to get out of his arms. “My tongue was not...!” She protests indignantly.

Logan stills her, hands somehow on her shoulders suddenly, eyes on hers. “Thanks.”

Veronica’s mouth opens and closes a few times before she comes up with an answer. “You’re...welcome.” She feels his thumb circle on her shoulder gently.

“We should figure out what’s going on here.” Logan pauses. “With us.”

Logan Echolls, voice of reason? First sign of the Apocalypse, I’m fairly certain. And did he say US?

Veronica nods. “Right. Good.”

“Tomorrow?” Logan lifts his eyebrows in question even as he puts his head back down on the bed.

“Tomorrow.” And Veronica can’t believe she’s caught in this cycle of kissing and comforting with Logan. Over and over. Around and around. It’s not something she ever planned on, but it’s one merry go round that’s awfully hard to get off.

As they find their positions again, sleep comes over each of them more slowly. If Veronica had managed to stay awake a little longer, she would have known Logan did not drift off so easily. Her head back on his chest, his fingers play in a strand of her hair gently, so as not to wake her. It’s like silk, twisting and slipping over his fingers. Elusive.

He cuts his eyes at Veronica and then out the far window. Logan’s never been able to hold onto anything or anyone worth keeping in his life. First Lilly, now his Mom. They leave him. The fog of alcohol muddles his thoughts, but he drifts off thinking of Veronica’s lips pressing against his in the dark and wonders if she just might be the exception.


On to Chapter 10: The Morning After