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He was late.
Veronica wriggled her hips and tried to smooth the fabric of her too-tight dress. It was half a size too small, she decided, not for the first time since she’d put it on over an hour ago. Yes, it had looked great on the mannequin and she’d been in a rush, but that didn’t make it hug her thighs and suck against her butt any less. She lived in constant fear of having a wedgie, because even stuffy Ivy League colleges reminded her of playground bullies sometimes, in part because playground bullies grew up every once in awhile, and sometimes became law school assholes.
And her date was late.
“Is he here yet?”
Melinda slid right into Veronica’s field of vision, her body half-turned toward the doors. Veronica shook her head, shifting to her other foot and glancing past her friend.
“No, not yet. Not that I…necessarily mind.”
Melinda rolled her dark brown eyes, conveying annoyance at Veronica’s projected flippancy. Nonspecific jazz music filtered into the hall from the room behind them, littered with polite laughter and clinking glasses. Holy crap Veronica was going to be late. She swallowed, forcing herself not to fidget.
See, she didn’t exactly want to go to this party. She didn’t need to go to this party. But she really should go to this party and a part of her really wanted to go to this party, for a lot of really dumb, vain reasons. Columbia Law had a lot of crusty old traditions, and this one was not without its problems. The small gathering of elite students and faculty was purely invitation only, but it had one major requirement: bring a god-damn date.
Melinda and Veronica both stared at the doors.
“He’ll be here,” Melinda promised.
Veronica’s lips thinned in a tight smile. She checked the watch she’d fastened against the inside of her wrist, noting that Melinda’s mystery man had all of four minutes to get here before the doors closed and she would be left out in the proverbial cold.
“Is Henry already inside?”
Melinda smiled, some warm thought playing through her head. “Yeah, he’s inside. He’s holding a table for us.”
The two women stared down the long hallway, toward the doors to the outside world.
Veronica tried to stop staring, reminding herself of adages like watched pots never boil. She dragged her gaze to Melinda’s pretty face, something of a feat considering that the woman practically towered above Veronica in her own high heels. In a flash of clarity Veronica realized the dress giving her so much trouble would suit Melinda infinitely better; the dark plum color made Veronica look pale and sickly in the overhead lights. Then again, Melinda looked good in anything. Veronica licked her dry lips.
“You’re sure he’s coming?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“And he knows where to go?”
“I gave him directions, and a Google maps dot with geo location.”
That was good. Veronica swallowed.
“And – how do you know this guy again?” Veronica asked, sure she’d been told a few times already. Melinda made a wavy gesture with her hand, sweeping the air as if to collect dust.
“Oh, he’s an old friend of Henry’s from college. He’s in town for a few days, and he wanted to meet up with us, but we were stuck with this nonsense. It was actually kind of lucky you couldn’t find a—“
Melinda stopped herself when she realized what she was saying, trying to cover it with an embarrassed little laugh, but it didn’t matter whether she’d finished the sentence or not. The phrase you couldn’t find a date was already penetrating Veronica’s brain, seeping down the back of her throat, mulling her insides to old malt liquor. Veronica almost sighed, once again fighting off feelings of being pathetic. Yes, they said in New York City single women outnumbered the men – sometimes almost two to one – but…come on. With Veronica’s naturally blonde hair? And her cute button nose?
She’d had three weeks to track one down, which was the total kick in the pants. Veronica and Melinda had both scored in the top ten percent on a notoriously vicious exam early into their second semester, and had earned horrifically fancy invitations to this horrifically fancy event. The fact that Veronica’d been able to get a new dress but not lock down a date was…well, it was best not to dwell on it.
Veronica checked her watch again, and her lips and jaw tightened in an effort not to grimace. “Two minutes,” she murmured, earning a consoling look from Melinda.
“He’ll be here,” she promised again, and again, Veronica fought to have hope. She’d noticed that even Brandon Honniger had managed to bring a real live date, and if that guy didn’t moonlight under bridges posing riddles to strangers… Well.
Veronica felt her stomach sink as she stared hard at the door. What if the person (er. Theoretically. Hopefully?) jogging to meet her and hover at her elbow for the next three hours was Brandon Honniger’s twin? Or what if – what if he was horrifically boring, or a misogynistic asshole?
Or like, an actor, or something? What if he wanted to spend all night talking to her about acting?
“Uh what? does this guy look like again?” The uneasy tone gave her away, and Melinda smirked, knowing Veronica too well already.
“He’s cute,” Melinda said, and her grin only grew as she presumably continued to think about it. “Whew, he’s real cute.”
Veronica could have sworn Melinda was about to fan herself.
Veronica snorted. “That pre-nup better be rock solid, my friend.”
“Like granite,” Melinda volleyed, cracking a grin. When Veronica rolled her eyes again, Melinda turned to face her fully, a lovely little smirk to her lips. She nearly waggled her eyebrows. “All I’m saying is – when it comes to this guy? Henry is lucky he met me first. It might have been an actual issue.”
Veronica tried not to feel a little elevated about that. Huh. Okay, so he was cute. Cute and late, but still cute. At least there was that. Veronica nearly sighed again as she manually deflated her own ego. It didn’t matter what he looked like, she’d decided a few days ago, when Melinda had found her hunting through OKCupid like a madwoman. It only mattered that he would get her inside the doors.
If he got there within the next minute, she might actually propose marriage herself.
Deflecting through a haze of panic, Veronica looked up at Melinda through heavy lashes, sarcasm coating her tongue.
“And he’s not like, some crazy psychotic jackass or anything, ri—“
“I’m here!”
Veronica’s head snapped toward the voice. The door was still open, wind rushing into their hallway from outside. Heavy footsteps slapped on the stone flooring.
And Veronica’s eyes went wide.
“I’m here,” the voice said again. The steps and the man and the voice slowed down, knowing the extra effort was no longer necessary.
Disbelief was flooding Veronica’s veins. It couldn’t be…
The man looked at Melinda, whom he had recognized and was expecting to see. He wasn’t yet looking at Veronica, whose head barely reached her friend’s shoulder, who was so plain in appearance when compared to the statuesque goddess-woman who would look so god-damn good in dark purple.
It can’t be.
“I’m here,” he said again, with finality, as if just to confirm it for himself. He leaned in to Melinda and kissed her on the cheek. Veronica was so stuck in a state of shock she almost missed the way Melinda’s face took on a duskier shade, even beneath the make-up brushed across her high cheekbones.
Veronica knew this man.
He was as tall as she remembered. Tall and still athletic – his shoulders nearly looked broader, somehow, his arms more filled out. His dark brown hair was still cut short to his head, his neck still long.
And his ears still stuck out – just so – in this way that made his whole appearance softer, somehow. Softer and more handsome.
It was Logan Echolls.
Logan monkey hugging Echolls.
She’d been trying to moderate some of her less professional language.
His heather-gray suit looked tailored. It was clear he’d been out in the misting rain because little beads of it coated his hair and his shoulders. It was clear he’d been running through the rain, because his breathing was slightly labored, but clearly he could tolerate the exercise, because he wasn’t completely out of breath.
Veronica kept waiting for him to turn and see her. She certainly couldn’t seem to stare anywhere else. Vaguely she knew that someone was hovering behind them at the open doors to the party, and they were expected inside in the next thirty seconds.
“It’s good to see you,” Melinda was saying, Logan’s arms around her, and she looked as if she genuinely meant it. Logan was matching her gaze and her sentiment. Jimminy christo.
Logan mother hunting Echolls.
Scattered dots of information were stringing together deep inside her mind, like junctions of a spider web.
Mac telling her ages ago that Logan had joined the Navy. Melinda introducing Veronica to her fiance, Lieutenant Henry Thomas. Henry telling Veronica how he’d met and proposed to Melinda during Fleet Week a few years back; one of those whirlwind courtships that reminded Veronica how some people still believed in true love. That this was Henry’s friend from college. As in, Navy college.
Logan Echolls was friends with Melinda and Henry Thomas.
And Logan Echolls was Veronica’s blind date.
There was a cough from the doors to the inside, and panic flooded Veronica’s system.
“Logan,” she said, her voice an undercurrent.
Both Melinda and Logan turned to Veronica, as if both remembered together that they weren’t alone.
Veronica knew her eyes were wide, that she looked the very image of a child catching mama kissing Santa Clause, but she honestly couldn’t care.
She stared blatantly at Logan’s face, and she watched his expression morph into shock, and then dismay, and then growing realization all in the span of about two and a half seconds. They had to get inside.
Melinda clearly had no idea what was going on.
“Wait a minute,” she was saying, defying anyone to call her oblivious. “You guys know each other?”
Veronica now received the full force of Logan’s gaze. It wasn’t warm and affectionate like it had been for Melinda, but it was no less penetrating.
“From a million years ago,” Veronica supplied, and her voice was quiet with irrational disbelief. Inside. Inside the party. Logan stepped away from Melinda almost unconsciously, facing the reality of Veronica head-on.
“Ah-hem,” a voice said from behind the trio. It was some university-hired undergrad, dressed in a bad suit. His body radiated impatience. “Will you be joining us this evening? The doors must now be closed.”
“Yeah,” Veronica was saying, as if she wasn’t aware she was saying it. There was a disconnect between the sure tone of her voice, and the distant look on her face. “Yeah, we’re coming in. I mean…”
Her spine went rigid, and she darted a glance at Logan again.
“I think so.”
He was trying to read through her expression. His held so much: confusion, disbelief, maybe something that could be at the very least reticence and quite possibly pain. Veronica bit her lip, warmth and tightness and anxiety inside her ribcage all too consuming. It was his choice, she decided. He didn’t have to come in, and she wasn’t allowed to make him. He was a grown man, just as she was a grown woman, and seven years of not talking to each other didn’t mean he owed her anything.
“What?” Melinda breathed, interrupting the looks Logan and Veronica were sharing. She sounded off kilter – if she had been opposing council, Veronica would have exploited the hell out of her imbalance. “What? I mean. Of course he’ll come in. Logan, you’re coming in, right? …Veronica?”
Veronica had no idea why Melinda was reaching out to her for support. She looked at Logan again, who was still examining her face. Veronica shrugged and looked at her shoes. Her blonde hair spilled past her ears.
“Yeah.”
Logan’s voice made everyone pause.
“Yeah, I’m coming in.”
Veronica’s lips twisted in the direction of the floor, but she didn’t look up right away. She was afraid of what she would see, because Logan’s tone held an edge to it that was making her want to skip the dinner and maybe quit law school and move out of the country for good measure. Maybe she could join a herd of hermits and wander the frozen ice fields of the Yukon. That sounded good just about then.
It was nearly tender, his tone.
When Veronica met Logan’s gaze, there was just the hint of steel buried deep within his warm brown eyes. He was clearly trying to suppress it, because he tried to smile, and he offered a hand to Veronica. It reminded her that this was technically supposed to be a blind date.
She didn’t want to take his hand. She really didn’t want to take his hand. But from the corner of her eye she could see Melinda and Mr. Bad Suit watching her, so she lifted her fingers, fought through the second-guessing, and put her hand in Logan’s.
Veronica wasn’t even sure what he was going to do with it. With a flair that was Logan all over, but a gaze that was the Logan she didn’t necessarily recognize, he brushed his lips against her knuckles with an exaggerated little bow. Veronica frowned, the nerves from her ribs migrating to her stomach.
Logan stood upright, and then tucked Veronica’s small fingers into the crook of his elbow.
“Shall we?” he asked the suit, who looked a little less irritable. He probably would have closed the doors earlier if he’d felt less self-important, but this was clearly a man who took his position very seriously.
“Thank you,” he said, waving them inside.
Melinda, Logan and Veronica stepped inside the inner library doors.
And the inner library doors were closed behind them.
***
Veronica went to work immediately on the inside of her cheek.
The Starr Library was typically one of her favorite places on campus, but now it could have been a Fuddruckers for all she cared. A quick glance up at her date; Logan looked annoyed. Veronica could see the raindrops scattered through his hair, almost like someone had sprinkled him with tiny, sparkling confetti. His little show for Melinda’s benefit had just amped up her guilt and unease.
Yeah. Her guilt.
Veronica tilted her head slightly toward the vaulted barrel ceiling and its intricately carved medallions.
The last time she’d really spoken to Logan, it was to swear him out of her life entirely. The last time they’d seen each other, Veronica had known Logan didn’t truly think they were over. Veronica hadn’t either then, but, well.
Here they were.
Veronica again looked at him. He was politely pretending to examine this same ceiling and walls, which had been so well decorated for the night’s event. The tables had been covered with dark linens, and the lights had been dimmed to romantic levels. A small podium stood at one end of the room.
The available floor space was almost full with invited bodies and their dates, mingling and sipping glasses of white wine, and it was no small feat to meander between them as they trailed Melinda’s tall frame through the crowd. Logan had to pull Veronica tighter against his body as they followed to wherever Henry was reserving seats for them.
“It’s been a long time,” Veronica acknowledged, her shoulder brushing Logan’s. She knew Melinda couldn’t hear them from this distance, and it might be the only amount of privacy they’d get that evening. “How are you?”
Logan scoffed under his breath. “Just dandy, Veronica.”
Hearing him say her name for the first time in seven years shouldn’t have made her tense, but it did. It was too impacted a word, too shaded with memories from long ago.
Veronica pinched her lips together to stop herself from saying something she’d regret, something trite and all-consuming and cliched, like… I’m sorry. She had no reason to be sorry, after all. They’d broken up. People did that, and then they moved on. She’d moved on. He had apparently moved on too. It had been seven freaking years.
Melinda stopped abruptly, turned to face her friends, and then gestured to Henry and their apparent table. It was off to the side, one of the neat little four-tops. There were a few candles at the center and four place settings, two on each side. It was remarkably intimate, and if Veronica had seen the set-up in an upscale Manhattan restaurant she wouldn’t have been surprised.
Henry stood up immediately and moved to embrace his friend. Logan let go of Veronica to hug him back, clapping a hand on Henry’s shoulder as a genuine grin split Logan’s face.
“Ahh, it’s good to see you man, it’s good to see you,” Henry was saying, and Logan was like-minded. They grinned at each other for a minute, chatting in a mumbled way that Veronica chose not to overhear. She bowed her head, pulled out her own chair and took her seat across from Melinda.
Melinda pushed a glass of wine into Veronica’s field of vision.
“Something tells me you need this.”
Veronica tilted her chin up and met her friend’s gaze. “More than you know,” she agreed, taking a careful sip of the wine. Its finer taste was lost on her ice-cream-for-dinner palate.
“So…you guys know each other.”
Veronica’s lips twisted together, and she turned her head to make sure Logan and Henry were still catching up. They were chatting easily, amicably, happy smiles crinkling their faces.
“From high school,” Veronica admitted. “We practically grew up together.”
Melinda looked genuinely baffled. “I…had no idea. I knew he was from SoCal, but I never thought…”
Veronica shook her head. “No, it’s fine. We used to be friends, a long time ago. It’s fine.”
She let that sentence slide around in her head. It felt oily and unpleasant; too simplistic, oddly disingenuous. But there was no reason to dump it all out in the open. Not now, anyway. Maybe not tomorrow either.
Veronica took another small sip of her wine.
“Ver-on-ica!” Henry’s sing-song voice caught her ear, and Veronica tilted her face up with a grin to accept Henry’s affectionate kiss to her cheek. “It’s good to see you girl. You are looking beautiful this evening.”
Veronica’s grin stretched, feeling a little more genuine. “Thanks Henry. Glad you got your land-legs back.”
Henry danced a little on the spot to show that her statement was accurate. “Oh I am back all over,” he boasted, making Melinda’s eyes bug. Veronica laughed as Melinda hid behind another sip of her wine. Henry stopped, and then clapped a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “And be honest, what do you think of my man Logan here. He’s a good looking guy, am I right?”
Veronica was saved from answering by Henry’s fiancee. “They know each other, Henry.”
Henry jerked his head back, as if he thought that was a lame sort of joke. Then he saw how serious his fiancee looked, and how purposefully detached Veronica looked. “For real?”
Logan dipped his head once in a nod, and then looked Veronica square in the eye. “From a long time ago,” he explained. “It’s a fun little reunion though, trust me.”
Veronica wasn’t quite sure what to make of the cold edge to his voice. She turned her head away.
“Huh,” Henry observed. “Well at least you guys didn’t like date or anything. That would be… Are you kidding me?”
Veronica looked up, and realized Henry had interpreted Logan’s reaction accurately. He was cringing. “Okay,” Henry said, sitting down. “Now we need to hear the whole story.”
Logan raised an eyebrow in Veronica’s direction, as if asking for permission. Veronica shrugged one shoulder as if to say, If you must .
Logan took the last seat, next to Veronica.
“There’s not a lot to tell. We were kids. Seventeen, eighteen years old. We dated in high school, gave it a go in college…”
Veronica felt something in her stomach clench, maybe because Logan was describing their relationship so flippantly.
“Then she transferred to a different college and we just sort of…lost contact.”
Melinda and Henry shared a look. Melinda was clearly doing some quick math.
“And that’s it. That was what, five, six years ago?”
“Seven,” Logan corrected easily. Veronica realized she’d opened her mouth to answer the same question, and she closed her lips around her teeth and took a third sip from her glass.
There was a quick and sudden silence across the table. Someone came by and took Logan’s drink order.
Melinda groaned, clashing with the smile creeping across her face. “Oh my gosh, you’re making me remember my high school boyfriend.”
Henry raised his eyebrows. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” When Melinda shot him a cute but reproachful look he continued: “The love of my life ain’t never had no man but me.”
Melinda grinned wider but rolled her eyes, looking to Veronica as if to lament: Men .
Someone from the front of the room tapped a metal utensil against a glass, its ping ringing throughout the room. The scattered conversation petered out, and Veronica snuck one more glance at Logan, wishing they had more of an opportunity to talk, wishing they weren’t reuniting like this, wishing everything about this could be different.
He’d just wanted to see his friends, right? He’d just wanted to see them, do them a solid, and here he was, having to hang out with her, having to be her little show pony for the next two hours. There was a dinner planned. A dinner. Ugh.
“You don’t have to stay,” Veronica leaned over, whispering furiously. Logan had ducked his head to hear, but his head snapped up to look at her. He wasn’t smiling.
“I told my friends I’d stay.”
“You know that this is an extreme circumstance.”
“You’ve probably figured out how we know each other. Don’t think extreme circumstances are really a problem for me.”
Veronica glared at his tone.
“Well,” she snapped, at a whisper. “I’m not making you stay.”
Logan leveled a look at her, his lips curved down at the corners, as someone in an apron came to deliver his bottled beer. Logan didn’t even reach for it.
Dr. Hawkins ambled to the stage, not completely shaky, but not necessarily steady either, well into his 70s. Wasn’t someone suppose to retire before they got to their 70s? She’s sure she’d never even thought of it before.
“Welcome, welcome,” Dr Hawkins started, waving his hands to tamp down the crowd. His head came up just over the podium, his back slightly hunched. He tended to squint through his glasses, a perpetual smile on his face. Even when he was calling you a fabulous dunce, which he did often. It was part of his charm. “Thank you, thank you, to this year’s best and brightest.”
Veronica felt herself warm, sensing rather than seeing Logan’s attention shift to her. She adjusted her weight in her seat, reaching below the table to tug on her skirt. Well?
“All our students here tonight have proven themselves exceptional at this point. Not just good, but exceptional. A series of exams, verbal recommendations from your instructors – truly exceptional. It may be early in your legal careers, but we have high hopes for you all.”
A polite applause scattered throughout the room. Veronica’s table joined in, somewhat self-consciously. Dr. Hawkins smiled kindly, reminding her of a short, hunched Dumbledore.
“But, as with all good things, it is best to engage in moderation. You all have the talent, yes, and the smarts to succeed.” Dr. Hawkins took a moment to peer over the dais, as if wanting to impart some grandfatherly advice. “But there is no success on ones own. No man – or woman – is an island. And no island is happy without a good Mai Tai once in awhile.” He chuckled at his own little joke, and half the crowd joined in. “We asked you all to bring a partner tonight to remind you that real life exists outside these walls. You need other people in order to be successful through the next year and a half. We will demand of you all that you can give us, and that will have real-life ramifications.” His gaze roved the room, making eye contact with some, compelling others to drop their heads as they reflected on his statement.
“How many people would answer your call in the middle of the night? How many people would bail you out of jail, would drive across state lines for you? How many would cross an ocean?”
Veronica wondered what temperature it was in the Yukon right then. Snowing, right? It had to be snowing. At least she’d blend in. Right. Yes. She’d ditch the dress with Melinda, then catch the first flight to the Yukon, and – shit she wasn’t Canadian. Er. Well, they’d have to find her first.
“Think about this tonight. Tonight, for the next few hours, law as a concept does not exist. Be people, simple people, and practice your humanity.”
His smile stretched again, fond.
“Enjoy yourself!” Dr Hawkins finished, holding up a festively tropical cocktail, and applause rang out through the room.
Veronica sunk back into her chair.
Did the speech really have to be about love? She refused to look at Logan, the tension radiating from just a foot away. How awkward. And what he’d said…there had been middle of the night phone calls…and bailing each other out of jail…god, state lines, even?
Henry and Melinda were making moon eyes at each other, seemingly inspired by the professor’s speech. They gave each other a little peck on the lips, then seemed to remember Logan and Veronica.
“He’s, uh,” Melinda started, “our favorite professor.”
“Is he now?”
Melinda grinned. “Oh yeah. Actually, this one time Veronica –” she started, opening her mouth to launch into a story Veronica absolutely did not want being told right then. Melinda seemed to immediately read this on Veronica’s face, and Melinda’s mouth opened and shut wordlessly. “Or, gosh, you know what? Henry they have canapes here.”
“Oh shit for real?”
“For real. Let’s go.”
Veronica sent panicked eyes at her friend, who was already standing from the table, Henry hot on her heels. Veronica sank an inch lower in her seat.
“Well,” Logan said, watching them go, “that wasn’t subtle.”
“You really don’t have to stay.”
Logan picked up his bottle of beer, inspecting it a little. “It’s fine,” he said, lifting it up to his face. Was he going to smell it? Is that who he was now? Someone who smelled beer? “It’s not like I had anything better to do.” He took a little sip.
She watched him swallow.
“Yeah but…this can’t be what you had in mind.”
“Seriously, Veronica,” Logan nearly sighed. “It’s fine.” He turned to face her fully, and again she was hit with the reality of him, with all of him, and his (yes, his) handsomeness, and dang it if it didn’t totally seem fair. “So you’re in law school, huh?”
Veronica nodded, pulling herself up in her seat.
“I am.”
“And you’re good at it?”
“Does that surprise you?”
“God no,” he swore, on a puff of air. “Makes total sense that you’d argue with people for a living.”
That wheedled its way inside of her, the slithering, slimy insult worming its way right through her skin.
“No–wait, I didn’t–” Logan swore under his breath. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant, just that – “ He grabbed his wine glass. “Shit this is awkward.”
Veronica forced half a little laugh. “Yeah,” she agreed.
They were both silent for a moment. Logan took a shuddery breath, and turned in his seat to face her fully.
“Look, this is clearly throwing me a little. We haven’t seen each other in, what, seven years?” Veronica nodded. “Seven years of radio silence, and there is just a very short list of people who would rattle me this much, and, well, I’m still very sure that the Easter Bunny doesn’t exist.”
That helped her smile a bit.
Logan took the time to look over her whole face. The little tea lights on the tables maybe didn’t show her in the best light.
“Tell me about how you got to law school.”
“What, like this is a date?” Veronica offered a strained smile. “Come on, Logan.”
“Why not? It’s supposed to be a date. I’m supposed to be a knight in shining armor, here.”
Veronica glanced at his suit, and swallowed. “That doesn’t look very solid.”
“Oh, yeah, a feather might knock me over right now. But – I can try.”
She met his gaze. Why did her throat suddenly feels so tight?
“Back!”
Veronica and Logan both looked across the table, finding Melinda and Henry sliding back into their chairs, small plates covered in hors d'oeuvres.
“They had crab cakes man,” Henry said, and Logan released a bark of laughter on forced air. Some inside joke, then? Judging by Melinda’s devious grin, it must be. Henry passed over the little plate, and Logan gamely picked up a fork.
Okay.
Dinner with Logan Echolls.
She could do this.
She could do this.
***
“Okay,” Melinda said over salads. “Please tell me what Logan was like in high school, I am dying know.”
Logan snorted at the ceiling.
Veronica couldn’t help the grin. “What, you don’t want to know what I was like in high school?” she asked, stabbing a tomato with her fork.
“Oh, I totally know what you were like in high school. You were exactly like this.”
“Hey! I wasn’t…I wasn’t exactly like –” Veronica looked to Logan, who was looking back at her. “I wasn’t exactly like this.”
Logan shrugged. “Can’t say.” He looked at his friends. “Does she still do that thing where she just…frowns at you? Like she’s imagining seven different ways of killing you and disposing of the body?”
Melinda was already laughing. “Yes!” she croaked, around a bite of lettuce. “Oh my gawd the Veronica death stare.”
Veronica’s jaw was open. “I do not…” she started to say. But then again, well. It was an effective death stare.
“Logan had a puka shell necklace,” Veronica announced, to the squealing delight of their tablemate.
“Oh man,” Henry groaned.
“That’s perfect! Please tell me you have pictures.”
Veronica shrugged. “Of course I have pictures,” she said, leaning back in her chair with confidence. She glanced at Logan, and found him staring at her, an amused little smile on his lips.
“You still have pictures?”
Oh. Um. “Well, I mean. Probably. Probably if I went looking for them I’d find some polaroid somewhere.” Logan hummed. “What, you don’t have pictures?”
Logan put his elbow on the back of his chair, turning to face her more fully. “Oh. A whole scrapbook.”
Veronica grinned.
“Oh, honey,” Melinda cooed, drawing Veronica and Logan’s attention away from each other. “Look at that. High school sweethearts.”
Henry tried to warn her off. “Honey…”
“Oh babe,” Melinda continued, undeterred. “Me in high school? Total band geek. Clarinet, braces, the whole thing. It didn’t help that I hit maximum verticality at age thirteen, so I was at least a foot taller than him.”
Melinda gazed wistfully at her husband, not really seeing him. She was clearly picturing whatever teenage him had held her heart way back when. Melinda looked at Veronica, a sisterly gleam to her eyes.
“He was a percussionist. Oh, how he could smack that snare drum.”
Veronica laughed. Melinda and her fiance started to banter playfully about young romance, and Veronica listened for awhile, curious and polite.
Veronica took a sip of wine. She could so easily remember Logan in high school, with that ridiculous necklace and his rounded cheeks. Now he was leaner, his face thinner. Logan’s hair, cut close to his head, still made his ears pop out in that ridiculous way. She could so easily see her finger tracing along its shell.
Veronica almost jumped in her seat, nearly spilling her wine in the process. She took another quick sip to avoid too much embarrassment, but she suspected Logan had read through her. He was staring at her curiously.
“I uh,” Veronica said, when she realized she was the center of attention. “Just remembered I missed a dentist appointment.”
Henry cocked an eyebrow. “Must be some dentist.”
***
Sitting next to Logan for the first time after seven long years…it was surreal. There was just no other word for it. Here he was, her high school boyfriend; former absolute, unrelenting love of her life.
All those nights at the Grand. His yellow Xterra…oh man. And he was using a dinner fork, cracking jokes with people she knew and knew well. Their worlds were literally colliding, with a resounding earthquake, shaking her to her core.
She kept staring at him.
When he laughed, definitely. All those beautiful, straight white teeth.
When he said something stupid.
They had second glasses of wine, when Veronica finally dug up the courage to ask.
“So…the Navy.”
Veronica’s fingers twisted the stem of her glass. She was looking at Henry when she said it, but clearly, it was meant for Logan.
They’d been laughing about something, and predictably and appropriately, a sort of quiet descended on the table. Henry was the first to clear his throat, sitting straighter in his seat.
“Yes ma’am,” he answered.
“Both of you? Navy?”
“Naval aviators,” Logan clarified, looking at his friend. “Henry works mechanics.” He turned his gaze to Veronica, head at a self-deprecating angle. “I’m the idiot who wanted to fly the planes.”
“You fly them?”
“Yes ma’am.”
Well. Okay. Being called ma’am by a young naval aviator would have an effect on anyone.
“That sounds…complicated.”
Logan nodded. “I had to take calculus and everything.”
“Calculus?”
“Yes, as it turns out, flying planes, landing them on moving aircraft…not quite so easy.”
“Yeah, but how –” she started to ask. Veronica stopped herself. She wanted to ask, how does calculus fit in with flying? But, it was because she was genuinely curious. And maybe she shouldn’t be. It finally occurred to her that this might not be, exactly, a reconnection. This could very easily just be a one night thing. And why did that feel…strange, somehow? It would feel strange if this started something, but stranger if they didn’t speak again for another seven years.
Right?
“Oh babe…” Melinda murmured, and Veronica heard music get louder somewhere. Melinda sighed. “Dancing.”
Veronica looked towards the dais, but it wasn’t there anymore. It had been moved to the side of the room, beside a small band of musicians, who had started playing a soft, gentle jazz. Very classy. Very Ivy League school. An area had been cleared, and - yes - that was certainly people standing from their chairs, heading towards the floor. Veronica looked at her friends, watched Henry stand straight, hold out a stiff hand. Melinda was putty; Henry was doing this for her, and everyone knew it. She slid her hand into his, and they were off, leaving Veronica and Logan alone.
Again.
“We don’t have to dance,” Veronica said immediately, and Logan’s shoulders lost some of their tension.
He turned back to face her. “Still don’t like dancing?”
Veronica shook her head.
They both looked at the dancefloor for a moment. Both were thinking of Alternaprom, of dancing together. I thought we were epic…
“You want another drink?” Logan asked, and Veronica put her hand on the table. “Hell yeah.”
They stood. Logan did the thing where he adjusted his jacket and pants, and Veronica tried not to watch. He was just – he was more muscular now. And being a Navy…a Navy pilot, probably he should be. She looked away, pressing her lips together. It didn’t matter.
“I think the bar’s over there,” Logan murmured, too close, and Veronica started walking. She pulled down her skirt as they went, moving around her classmates. Were they watching her? Had they seen her date? Would they ask questions later? She should practice some deflections, just in case.
“Anything you want? My treat,” Logan joked, and Veronica fought the urge to roll her eyes.
“Think they got hot cocoa? Tons of mini marshmallows?”
Logan chuckled. “We can always ask.”
A bartender approached them at the bar. “Can I help you?”
“Just a glass of wine,” Veronica asked. She didn’t really feel like getting too drunk. Two drinks was usually her limit, regardless of the fact that she was technically in college.
Logan stood at her side. “You guys got marshmallows?”
The bartender did a double take.
“Just kidding. Whiskey neat? Whatever you got.”
The bartender nodded and walked away.
“Whatever you got,” Veronica mimicked. “You are either very brave, or your taste hasn’t changed since high school, Echolls.”
Logan chuckled. “Or,” he argued, “I have just done some mental betting that this very fancy school stocks only the good stuff.”
Veronica hummed. “Fair.”
“That’s what I really learned in calculus. How to run the numbers on an open bar.”
Veronica grinned.
Their drinks came back, and they took them, walking towards an alcove, one of the little nooks lined with bookshelves.
“This is a pretty nice place.”
Veronica nodded. “It’s my favorite library.”
“This is a library?”
Veronica nearly laughed, pointing to the books. “Yes, you see, those aren’t for show. Every once in a while they make us actually read them.”
“Sounds overrated. Everything’s on the internet these days.”
Why did that remind her of her sex tape, all of a sudden?
“Not…everything.”
She hadn’t thought of that in years. She couldn’t look at Logan, as they made it to one of the little alcoves, somewhat apart from the bulk of the crowd.
“How’s…how’s Piz?” Logan asked, and sadness washed down her, like a little river through her middle.
“Dunno,” she admitted, with a shrug. She waited for Logan to ask more, and when he didn’t, Veronica sighed. “We broke up when I went to Stanford.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Logan nod. “You didn’t –” she asked. “You didn’t see him around campus?”
“Didn’t really stick around,” he admitted baldly, reading the spines of the books. “You left, Hearst wanted to kick me out, and…” Now it was his turn to shrug. “I found something better.”
“Navy recruiters sure love a good incentive, don’t they,” she teased.
“Oh, yeah. I got a stuffed bunny and everything.”
Veronica grinned, and took a sip of her wine.
“Veronica, there you are.”
The voice was cold, firm, and exacting, and Veronica knew exactly who it was before she even turned around.
“Professor Odessa.”
Logan walked up to her side, and for the first time all evening, Veronica wished he was someone else. Okay, that was a realization she was going to have to examine at a later time.
“I’m glad to see you’ve brought a date.”
Veronica nodded at her professor. Aging almost cruelly gracefully into her late 50s, Professor Odessa was who Veronica imagined being a Supreme Court judge one day. Or writing an encyclopedia. Being the first astronaut lawyer, something like that – something wholly deserved, totally impressive, which wouldn’t impress Dr. Odessa at all. Veronica sort of worshiped her.
“I was told they were required,” Veronica mumbled, and Dr. Odessa nodded, the movement somehow fluid and strong all at once. Veronica licked her lips. “Actually, professor. I’m a little surprised that – that you’d even be into something like this.”
Dr. Odessa tilted her head. A woman came up beside her of a similar age.
“I just mean, well –” Veronica forced a little laugh. Oh wow, this wasn’t going to come out right. To be honest, she’d sort of had this speech prepared. She’d sort of prepared for this meeting, to be running into Dr. Eugenia Odessa, who was probably going to be at this event, and who had given her full credit on a brief she’d drafted her second week at school, and – “Well, it just seems a little, I dunno, sexist, maybe?”
“Sexist, how?”
“Well, the whole,” Okay Veronica clearly should have thought this through. Clearly she didn’t think this through. Logan was in shoulder-grazing territory. “The whole date thing. I mean. What if I were asexual?”
“Asexual people can’t bring dates?”
“Well, no. I mean. Well, maybe they wouldn't want to. Or–” Oh holy shit this was going terribly.
“I think your date maybe doesn’t appreciate this line of questioning,” Dr. Odessa cut in smoothly, taking a step forward. She dropped her voice an octave, and Veronica felt heat flood her face.
“Veronica,” she said, and a thrill shot through her that Dr. Odessa knew her name. “What Hawkins said was true. You need…” she paused, her dark eyes searching Veronica’s face. “You need someone to answer your phone call in the middle of the night.” A small hint of a smile. “You only get one, after all.”
Dr Odessa looked to Logan, and nodded politely. “Don’t let her work too hard,” she warned him, and Logan nodded gamely.
“Understood.”
“I’m serious. This one…” Dr Odessa said, and Veronica’s heart was beating wildly. “Well. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you.”
“I’ll make sure she eats, Professor.”
Dr Odessa snorted, quietly, as if she weren’t used to gentle banter. She nodded again, looking Veronica over, then spared a glance to Logan, before finally turning to the woman hovering behind her. Veronica realized the other woman was holding two glasses.
Veronica let out a whoosh of breath as they walked away.
“I like her,” Logan declared.
Veronica still felt off-kilter. “Um. Thanks.”
“For what?”
“Just for…um, I don’t know actually.”
Logan looked at her for a long moment.
“Are you…flustered?”
“What? No!”
“You are. Oh my gosh. Look at you. Veronica, I hate to remind you, but you used to hunt down actual criminals in dark alleys. We’re in a library for chrissakes.”
“Yes, a library, with very important people inside it!” she spoke at a loud whisper, as if just remembering it herself.
Logan chuckled. “You’re really taking this seriously, aren’t you?”
Veronica smoothed a palm down the body of her dress, trying to dry her hand. “I am.” She looked up at him, still in that shoulder-grazing distance, and a small part of her noted that she wasn’t objecting to his closeness. She tried for a self-effacing smile. “Everyone’s gotta grow up sometime.”
“And this is who you are?”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Like you said. I get to argue with people for a living. Some would accurately say that it comes easily.”
Logan hummed, sounding amused, and took another sip of his drink.
There was silence then, and it wasn’t totally unpleasant. Veronica and Logan looked out at the crowd, milling around, talking, eating, drinking, dancing. It was still strange to be next to Logan, but, it no longer held the veneer of awkwardness, it no longer felt totally unpleasant. She had to say, that if given the choice, a) she never would have picked him, and b) maybe she should have. He’s clearly grown up in ways she hadn’t anticipated—a more polite, thoughtful man than he’d been before.
And she’d mentioned the muscles, right? He definitely had muscles.
They both suddenly spoke at the same time:
“Hey so d’you know any good lawyer jokes?”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
Veronica, mortified at what she asked, stared up at Logan with rounded eyes. She swallowed. “Um. Yeah I know some good lawyer jokes.”
Logan appeared to still be processing her question, which she couldn’t rewind, couldn’t shove back into her throat, and —
“Um,” Veronica started, her throat suddenly feeling dry. “Yeah. Okay.” She looked away. What the hell was wrong with her? You need…love . “What do you have when a lawyer is buried up to his neck in sand?”
Logan’s silence was rude, mostly because it forced her to look at him. His eyes had a shine to them she didn’t know what to do with.
“What?” he finally asked.
“Not enough sand,” Veronica finished, and she was absolutely humiliated to realize her voice was a little rough.
Logan chuckled beneath his breath.
Another beat of silence, and this time, totally awkward.
“I’m kinda seeing someone, yeah,” Logan finally said, and Veronica recoiled. What she would give for a plane right now, just a chartered plane to northwest Canada…
Veronica nodded. “Parker?” she guessed, her voice a squeak.
Logan whooshed a breath. “God, I haven’t thought about her in…” He didn’t finish, pushing a hand through his hair instead. “Um,” he started again, tilting his head, not looking at her. “It’s– Carrie, actually.”
Veronica stared at him, waiting for him to finish her name. When he didn’t, she realized that he expected her to know this Carrie, and she didn’t know any Carries, and – oh god, she did.
“ Carrie Bishop Carrie?” Veronica blurted. “As in –”
“Yeah.”
“I mean, she’s –”
Veronica closed her mouth. Logan had looked away again, clear across the other side of the room. Carrie Bishop. Sometimes Veronica would be in a group of people, and someone would ask if anyone knew anyone famous, and Veronica wouldn’t say anything, because she went to high school with a pop star. She also went to school with the son of Aaron Echolls, but, his name didn’t mean as much to people anymore.
“Wow,” was all Veronica could say.
Logan took a long sip of his drink, the ice cubes clinking against his lips. She watched him swallow again, and understood that if he were updating his status to Facebook, he would identify as: “It’s Complicated.”
“I promise not to tell her you’re on a pity date,” Veronica says, going for consoling, and Logan looked back at her, not at all amused.
God she felt bad now, and she wasn’t even sure why.
“Er. Well. What do you get if you put 100 lawyers in your basement?”
Logan tilted his head again, listening. “What?”
“A whine cellar.”
Logan snorted. He looked into the dregs of his drink, turning the glass. “That’s good,” he said, on another exhale, like he was trying. “Navy jokes aren’t nearly so interesting.”
Relief skittered along her skin. “Oh yeah?”
“We basically get as far as the word seamen and then call it a day.”
Veronica felt herself grin, broad and wonderful.
“I can see that,” she said.
Logan smiled at her, tentative. He pressed his lips together. “So, you’re doing well then? Making friends, getting good grades…”
Veronica looked away, staring out at the crowd of people, wondering which of them she would actually label with such a word. Melinda and Henry, sure. Um. Melinda and Henry…
“I guess so.”
Logan nodded. “It’s a small world,” he said, looking at his shoes.
She was very much inclined to agree.
Veronica and Logan wandered back to their table, Logan getting another drink on the way. Veronica still had half a glass of wine. She was still flustered about what she’d asked Logan, unnerved by the fact that her brain had actually phrased, then formed the question. Of course he had a girlfriend. Of course it would be someone fabulous, and pretty, and special like Carrie, someone Veronica could never compete with.
That thought stopped her short.
Logan bumped into her back.
“Oh–sorry,” he said, stepping away, and Veronica couldn’t even stop to turn around, to say something placating. Her heart rate increased a smidge, panic flowing with it. Was she…no. Gods no, it was just the wine, it was just all the old feelings, it was the words dropped into the evening from whatever Hallmark garbage Dr Hawkins had been watching before his naptimes…
“Sorry,” Veronica said, twisting halfway. They were stopped between chairs, between tables, no real room to create more space between them. Veronica was forced to look all the way up at him, with her beating heart.
Logan was looking down at her.
“You okay?”
It took her a moment to nod, trying to separate old feelings, trying to ignore the pull that was there – not – not a real…anything pull, okay? Just…just the pull of an old flame. Not a soul mate, wishy washy…it was just that they had history, right? Just their shared history.
“Veronica…”
“Hey Veronica.”
Veronica turned, finding Brandon Honniger of all people sidling up to her, shoving chairs out of his path.
Any weirdly romantic thought fled from her mind.
“Hello, Brandon.”
He looked up at Logan, a quick glance top to bottom, and then turned his gaze on Veronica. “Didn’t think you’d show.”
“Oh?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest.
There was a sneering look to his eyes, bred through boarding school violence, too much money and boredom.
“Wasn’t sure you’d manage the…requirements,” he hissed, and Veronica imagined him with a snake head.
“Which requirements are you implying, Brandon?” she asked sweetly. “Would that be the academic requirements? Or the personal ones?”
He sneered at her, eyes darting to her date. “Either, frankly.”
Veronica scoffed. “Oh. Well, I do hate to disappoint you, Brandon. But you see,” she said, and she was not above this, not above what she was about to do, but she reached blindly behind herself, until she grabbed Logan’s arm, and then slid her arm through it, until they were well and truly linked. “Things just comes easily to me, sometimes.”
“Veronica, sweetheart,” Logan purred, tilting his head down. “You promised me there’d be a coat room.”
Her neck flamed, even as she so playfully swatted at him. “Oh, Logan,” she said, shaking her head at Brandon, as if to say: men. Brandon was frowning. “I guess I should be calling you Lieutenant Logan, when we’re in company. Gosh. Brandon, did you know Logan is a naval aviator? Yeah. He took calculus and everything,” she said, against the back of her hand, like it was a secret.
She noticed Logan tense. Honestly, she did, but she was too busy, too engrossed in the threat—
“Thank you for your service,” Brandon mumbled, and with a nasty glance at Veronica, he turned, and started back the way he came. A girl who looked no older than 18 fell into step behind him, looking distracted and bored.
Veronica immediately loosed a breath and dropped his arm.
“I’m sorry,” she was saying immediately. “I’m so so sorry.” She wouldn’t step away in case Brandon was still looking, but curled her hands into fists, wanting to wring them. “I know I shouldn’t just wave your military stuff around like that, it was just–”
“I get it,” Logan was saying, and he was looking at her, looking right into her eyes, and the heart that was already going a hair too fast…went a little bit faster. She felt warmth all over her skin then. For no good reason at all. “Seriously, I mean…I get it.”
She nodded, looking away.
Veronica dropped her hands to her sides, forced her shoulders to sag. “Let’s…let’s go find Henry and Mel.”
She gave Logan a moment to object, and when he didn’t she turned, winding around furniture, headed back to their old table. Their friends weren’t there, and when Veronica looked towards the dance floor, she found them there, still in each other’s arms, smiling and happy.
A ping shot through her heart, just then. Just looking at them. It had been so long since anyone looked at Veronica that way, since she’d been lost in someone like that. Is that how Logan thought of Carrie? Did they dance like that? Maybe not now, but maybe…maybe they used to? They would again? She didn’t want to press for specifics. This whole damn evening was throwing her too much, was already going to take weeks to process fully.
“Veronica!” a voice said at her navel, and Veronica turned to see Dr. Hawkins shuffling towards her, arms outstretched. “Dance, dance!” he crowed, pushing her towards the dance floor. He saw her look at Logan, and grabbed Logan’s hand. “Dance!” he insisted, and with a panicked glance at Logan, Veronica realized it would be rude and maybe criminal to shove the old man away.
Together, she and Logan were pushed onto the dance floor.
For a moment, they stared at each other, totally oblivious to the moving people around them, to the old man sambaing himself to bother someone else. It felt too intimate suddenly, too intrusive. Dance?
Veronica straightened, squaring her shoulders, not aware she was almost cowering away from him. And why should she? Why should Logan, of all people, intimidate her? It was just a dance. Just dancing. And maybe they’d never see each other again.
Logan held out his hands to her, and Veronica heard the music - the same nondescript jazz, its melody gentle, innocuous. Veronica looked at Logan’s hands, and she swallowed. Just a dance.
She took his hands, and stepped closer to him. Logan dropped one hand to put it on her back, not too low. Not too high. They were adults now. Gone were the days of silent, hormonal sways, two sets of looped arms. Now Logan could hold their clasped hands and move them in a semi-reasonable way, and Veronica’s feet could more or less follow.
She didn’t trip over his feet all at once.
“You’ve done this before, I take it,” she said, impressed with her teasing tone.
“This was like, half my boot camp.”
“Ah yes. Shanks, grenades, and the two-step.”
“We call it the waltz.”
“A very, patriotic waltz, I’m sure.”
“Oh. Definitely.”
Veronica grinned up at him. “Now, isn’t it downright un-American to call it the waltz. That’s a German word,” she reminded him, and Logan grinned himself. “Pretty sure we beat the Germans.”
“You’re right. Someone in the Pentagon is working on this as we speak, but it’s too high-level to talk about.”
“Please just tell me that they’re considering Eagle Dance , and I’ll shut up.”
Logan laughed, hopefully picturing what it would look like to flap your arms like an eagle while in polite company, in stuffy dance halls.
“I’ll make sure they get the memo,” he murmured, and he pulled her closer.
It was such an easy move, really. It made her realize how far apart they’d started, how natural it was to press against someone you were dancing with. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d danced with anyone, honestly, and here she was.
Logan was quiet for what felt like a long time.
“I hated you for a while,” he finally said, so quiet she almost missed it. Heat flashed through her, and she swallowed against a tight throat.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” Logan said, his chin dipping once. “After you left, I…I tried to follow up, I guess. I guess I didn’t think we were finished.”
Veronica didn’t have anything to say. Admitting that she’d had the same thought just an hour ago didn’t seem appropriate.
Logan sighed, and the force of it ruffled her hair.
“I’m…I’m really glad you’re doing well, Veronica. I’m really glad I got to see you tonight.”
Veronica didn’t think it was brave to pull back then, to pull back and look up at him. She needed to read the expression in his eyes, needed to know if he were teasing her, or –
Something softened inside her when she realized Logan was being genuine. And some new panic started, some bleat of something she wasn’t sure how to name, which she smothered. She swallowed.
“We don’t have to…we don’t have to let this be just one night,” she murmured, and she saw as Logan watched her mouth, searched her eyes, maybe just as terrified at being vulnerable as she was. Maybe in that regard they hadn’t grown at all. “You can call me,” she clarified. And then, because she was an idiot: “Even in the middle of the night.”
A pained sort of smile quirked half of Logan’s mouth, his brows. “You’ll answer?”
Veronica nodded. The panic was twisting and turning in her chest, and maybe it’s that she had two and a half glasses of wine, maybe it’s because the doors were locked, and that everyone kept talking about love and other garbage, but…Veronica turned her head, leaning it against Logan’s chest. It was just companionable, she told herself. Just a normal thing to do when you were dancing with someone. Especially someone you’d danced with before, someone who you’d seen naked before. Someone who you maybe didn’t have terrible feelings about.
“I would always answer,” she admitted, and she never wanted to know whether he’d heard her.
***
They danced for another song, and the one after that. It was during that third song that Melinda and Henry found them, sidling up close, bumping hands with theirs.
“You guys doing okay,” Melinda asked, conspiratorially, and Veronica got the impression that Melinda was drunk and definitely enjoying herself.
Logan pulled away from Veronica, pushing her into a little turn that Veronica had no idea he was capable of. “You know it,” he answered, not looking at Veronica at all.
Melinda smiled, wistful and happy, as she looked at her fiance. “You sure City Hall’s not open tonight babe? Maybe we should go get married. Right now.”
Henry leaned in close, tapping her nose with his own. “This ain’t Vegas, love. And you know both my mom, and your mom, would kill us before we got halfway there.”
“Oh, they’d get over it,” she said, swinging both arms around Henry’s neck, nuzzling in close.
Veronica smiled softly.
The song the band was playing came to a close, and when one didn’t start right away, Veronica looked away from her friends. The musicians were putting aside their instruments, smiling and joking with each other, just as Dr. Odessa found the microphone on the dais. She tapped it, drawing out a dull thud, then leaned close so she could speak into it. Someone had moved it to the front of the stage.
“Good night,” she said, and Veronica might have laughed if Logan’s arms weren’t still around her.
Conversation filled in the gaps where music had been, a mild uproar as everyone moved towards coats, and cocktails, and wallets and keys. Veronica and Logan pulled apart, following their friends as Melinda and Henry danced to their table, music in their heads.
“Henry’s leave ends in a few weeks,” Logan explained, his voice filtering through the noise. Veronica half turned her head, and found him close. “We do, uh. We do six month tours, usually. Sometimes less. Sometimes more.”
“Six months?” she asked.
She hadn’t known Melinda for that long, honestly. And any mentions she’d made about her fiance had been sort of vague, almost as if she expected Veronica to already know.
When Logan didn’t answer, she looked up at him again. “That’s a long time.”
Logan nodded.
Melinda and Henry were half bundled, Melinda fluffing her hair out of the neck of her coat when Veronica and Logan joined them.
“Night’s not over yet, am I right?” Melinda asked, joy radiating from her. Henry nodded his agreement, still dancing in place a little. “Where to next?”
Veronica’s hand, on the edge of her chair, stilled. She looked at Logan, found him looking at her.
Did he want to keep hanging out with her? Or did he want to just go hang out with his friends? Honestly, this agreement – it was…well, it was fulfilled, wasn’t it? He had no obligation to her, no need to keep holding her hand, both physically and proverbially.
“We’ll meet you guys outside,” Henry was saying, drawing Veronica’s attention. She found him pushing his fiancee towards the doors, both clad in their winter coats, Melinda giving them a confused glance.
Veronica did a quick assessment of their immediate surroundings.
“You don’t have to–” she started to say, drawing in breath. “Um. I’m serious. Duty fulfilled. Excellent work. I mean, if I were awarding medals, which I totally would—”
“Veronica.”
Her name stopped her dead, killing her punchline. She pulled her lower lips between her teeth, chewing gently, trying to fight off the wince.
“I’m…I’m serious Logan.”
He did the silent thing again. She decided she didn’t like that tactic at all, this new side to him. She wouldn’t fall for it, okay? She wouldn’t look at him, she wouldn’t turn.
How did she end up looking at his warm brown eyes?
“Come for a drink with me,” he offered, and he just looked so serious when he said it.
She didn’t like the way her chest swelled with breath, how her fingers curled into her palm.
“What about…” she started to say, but there was a physical obstruction in her throat. She couldn’t finish the sentence. Because it could be filled with, your friends . Or Carrie . Or half a dozen very real things which she really didn’t want to think about it.
And damn if she didn’t think he could read through every one of those thoughts as he smiled, as if he was almost charmed by her. He gazed at the ceiling, a half eye-roll, and offered her a hand.
“Have a drink with me,” he insisted, and Veronica felt warmth seep in where the panic had been just a moment before.
She pressed her lips together. “This is just because you want to hear more of my lawyer jokes, isn’t it.”
Logan laughed, the grin splitting his face.
“Yeah.”
Veronica bit back the smile as she looked away, identifying her things. She pulled on her coat, grabbed her purse from beneath it, off the back of the chair. When she looked up Logan was watching her, his own coat over one of his arms, where it had been when he’d jogged to meet her all those hours ago. He offered her an arm, which she didn’t need to remind him was totally unnecessary. Totally.
She took it anyway.
And maybe it was because of the bleating of her heart, maybe it was because Logan’s arm was so warm beneath hers, but Veronica found herself clearing her throat.
“Um,” she started to say, as they walked together towards the double doors. “If you drop a snake, and an attorney off the top of the Empire State Building, which one lands first?”
Logan ducked his head close, probably just to hear her, and he was smiling when he asked: “Which one?”
“Who cares?” Veronica shrugged, and together, arm in inexplicable arm, Veronica and Logan left the party.