A/N: So, I tried writing something else, but it wasn't working for me, so I'm back to Veronica Mars. I'm happy, it works for me, and I had an idea based on the film 40 Days and 40 Nights. Hilarious, may I say, even though I only really saw the middle bit. Anyway, I hope you guys like my new idea. Veronica stayed with the FBI after her internship, and Logan and Parker stayed together. I think that's all you need to know, so just remember that I don't own anything in this story, except maybe a few plot twists, and enjoy!
Day 1
"Dude, you're giving up what?" My best friend, Dick Casablancas asks me, staring incredulously.
I get that my plan is strange to him, after all, Dick has never understood the idea of gaining perspective, or the notion of learning by deprivation. I've never really seen the point of it up till now, either, but it seems like the perfect idea, after what happened to me yesterday.
"Logan, we need to talk." Parker says to me, sympathy plastered onto every inch of her face. I know where this is going. The words 'we need to talk' never lead to proclamations of undying love, or amazing sex. They always lead to a dumping – I should know, I've heard it several times now. "We had a really great time, and I really enjoyed spending time with you." Don't get me wrong, I don't love Parker, and I don't think I ever will, but it always sucks to get dumped. "You know I went back home last week, for my mom's birthday?" It appears that some answer is required of me. I nod, understandingly. "Well, I ran into my ex – Lucas – and we talked, and we've decided to get back together. He's even moving down from Denver to be near me."
"Oh, well, I understand. You're right, we had a good run, but I'm glad you're gonna be happy." I tell her, as she pats my hand and leave. And I mean it. I want her to be happy, because she's a nice girl, but it sucks being left on my own again.
So why, then, would I want to do what I'm planning on doing? I don't like being alone, and yet I want to inflict loneliness upon myself. Frankly, it makes sense to me. I've had five girlfriends in my twenty years – although I've fucked plenty more. First there was Lilly Kane; my first love, my first time, sexy and daring, the perfect girl. Except for the fact that she slept around more than anyone I have ever met, and ended up being murdered by my father, who by the way she was sleeping with. Not the greatest start to my dating career. Then there was Kaitlin Ford, the 09er barbie who was nothing more than a good fuck. But, damn it all, she was cheating on me too – with some dirt poor biker who helped her commit fraud with my credit card details. That kind of thing really doesn't do wonders to a guy's self esteem. Then there was Veronica. Where to start? Gorgeous, witty, about as messed up as I am, and sharing a complicated history with me, we've got together at least three times. The first time it was more about comfort – sneaking around and secrets – and she left me because, to be honest, I went a bit psycho. I don't even really know why she dumped me the other times, but that's not important really. The point is, that she is now in Virginia; she left me like all the others. After my first liason with Veronica there was Hannah. Sweet, innocent Hannah, who was just a means to an ends; a way to blackmail her father into not testifying against me. It was my fault, but she still left – sent away to boarding school, away from bad guys like me. And then there was Parker, and look where that's got me.
So I figure the only solution to working out what about me repels women is cutting out the woman part. Giving myself a real introspective scrutiny, and the only way I can concentrate enough to do that is by
"Giving up sex." I tell him. He just gapes, open mouthed.
"Why the fuck would you want to do that, dude?" He's really not gonna understand, so I don't see the point in trying to explain. "You know what, don't tell me, man, I really don't wanna hear you go all girly about how nobody loves you and blah blah blah." Fair enough, I see his point. If I was him I wouldn't give a shit either. "I just have one question; how long have you been Christian for?"
"I've been Christian since I was born, idiot, I just don't practise. You don't have to be religious to use Lent to purge yourself of whatever. 40 days without sex, conveniently situated during Lent, so that I can justify it. It's just what I need."
At least I think it is.
I slump down into my seat, the laughter of my friends still echoing in my ears. It doesn't show any signs of stopping, but maybe that's because said friends – Cindy 'Mac' Mackenzie, Wallace Fennel, the aforementioned Dick Casablancas and Steve Walker – are sitting on both sides of me, killing themselves laughing. Dick happened to mention to them what I was giving up for Lent while we were on our way to the pointlessly compulsory English Lit lecture.
Don't get me wrong, these guys are great friends, especially Dick, Mac and Wallace, but they aren't exactly supportive. I met Dick when I moved to Neptune. At the time he was a scrawny, shy little kid, but Lilly and I moulded him into the confident, drunken, flirt that he is today. Mac and Wallace are Veronica's best friends, but we've gotten really close since she ran away to Virginia. Then there's Steve. He's a dude I met in the very lecture I'm in right now, and only because he'd heard that I was selling cheat sheets for the midterms. I wasn't, but it turned out that he was a really cool guy, and we're all pretty close now.
It doesn't stop them all being fucking annoying.
"Seriously Logan, no offence, but you're practically a nympho!" Mac giggles, calming down slightly.
"Hey! I resent that. I'm anything but a nympho. The nearest thing to a nympho in this entire room is Dick." I retort, annoyed by her accusation. Sex isn't always the first thing on my mind, only sometimes – unlike Dick who is only ever thinking about sex and booze. I'm really not sure how he managed to pass his first year here at Hearst.
"Sorry, Logan, but we all know that you're never gonna make it to Good Friday." Wallace points out. Damn him, he has a point. "The only time I've known you to go without sex when you could be having it is summer of Junior year, when you and Veronica were seeing eachother." Right again. Crap, when has Wallace got this intelligent.
"Yeah, well, I managed then and I'll manage now. I have to, for my sanity." I tell him, defiantly. They all start laughing again.
"Dude, you should get laid regularly for your sanity, not give up everything sex-related." Dick informs me, as if I'm some kind of imbecile. You know something is seriously up with your sanity when Dick Casablancas is giving you patronising advice.
"Wait, so this isn't just sex, this is like, masturbating too?" Steve asks, incredulously. "Man, what have you got yourself into?"
"No sex, no jerking off, no kissing, no making out. Absolutely nothing to satisfy the sexual cravings." I reel off. I've thought this through thoroughly.
"Never gonna happen, Logan, sorry." Mac tells me, patting my arm comfortingly. She and Wallace exchange significant looks, and I realise that they're hiding something from me.
Our lecuturer finally enters – ten minutes late, may I add – and begins talking about the symbolism used in Thomas Hardy's Wessex Tales. Thrilling. To my right, I see Mac lean towards Wallace and strain to catch her words.
"Do you think we should tell Logan that she's coming back?" She whispers.
"Nah, he doesn't need more stress. Maybe he won't even see her much." Wallace mutters back.
"Are you stupid? She's our best friend, he's one of our really good friends. They share most of their friends, actually, and she's gonna have to attend this stupid lecture, too." She snaps.
I leave them to their quiet bickering. I know who they're talking about; it's obvious really. Veronica Mars. Love of my life. Well, she was before she left anyway. I don't really know what I feel about her now. It doesn't stop her return being something very bittersweet. She's a great girl, and I've missed her company, apart from anything. I also want to know why the hell she didn't come back at the end of summer vacation. I've been wandering about that for about nearly seven months. But it sucks, because she is the one girl guaranteed to make keeping this Lent thing almost completely impossible. I mean come on, I got a hard on watching her in Calculus once, and she wasn't even stretching or pushing out her chest or anything. She'll be the death of me and my abstinence.
This is going to be even harder than I expected.
Day 3I manage three sexless days before I run into her. I hadn't realised that she'd be coming back so soon, but then again, as my mother always said, you don't get the full facts when you eavesdrop. So I'm unprepared for the meeting. I'd thought that I would be able to think of what to say, and maybe meet her somewhere neutral. But no, I run into her at the laundrette.
I'm reaching behind the washer for my secret stash of fabric softener when I hear her familiarly dry voice.
"You know, I don't think that's how you're supposed to use a washing machine. The clothes usually go in the front bit." I turn slowly, and am slightly gratified to see shock registering in her eyes. "Well, well, Logan Echolls. This is the last place I expected to see you."
I can't blame her for her surprise. Eight months ago, the last time I saw her, I wouldn't have been caught dead in a laundrette, but I've changed quite a lot since then. For a start, Dick and I finally moved out of the Neptune Grande Hotel, and into a crummy apartment on the beach in the 02 zip. I'm not even exaggerating when I say that the apartment is shit, only fit for sleeping and occasionally eating in. We don't have a shower (I shower at Wallace's dorm, even though it means having to see that douchebag Piz when I go there) let alone a washer and dryer. Hence the weekly trip to Spin Cycles, and the chance encounter with my ex.
I realise that I haven't actually spoken yet, and that Veronica has been staring quizically at me for several minutes. "Yeah, well, uh, gotta get the washing done, eh?" It's possibly the least smooth line I've ever come up with. It's worse than the staple of 'come here often?'. "Laundry doesn't do itself."
"Wow, you really have grown up." She comments, incredulously. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I grew up years ago; way before my time. "Last time I saw you you would have stuck to the story that your clothes miraculously cleaned themselves when you weren't looking."
It's true, I told her that once, in jest, and she laughed appropriately, but I hadn't thought that she'd remember it. It just goes to show how unpredictable she is; recalling what she is meant to forget and forgetting the things that I think are important. I'd bet any kind of money that she can't remember the details of the first time we met – which I can recall right down to the jeans I was wearing – but ask her what song I had on repeat in a certain week in that first summer together, and she'd probably be able to tell you.
"Well. Things are different now. It's all very well to belive in fairy stories when.." I trail off, uncomfortable at the way she is scrutinising me. "Anyway, I have a, uh, coloured wash to, uh, do."
Her hip is jutting out, her hand resting on it, while the other holds a sack, obviously holding her clothes. Her lips are pouting slightly, and her eyes are amused. Simple things, normal things – just like in that calculas class – and already I can feel my pants tightening. Shit, three days and I've already run into my toughest obstacle. She slings the bag over her shoulder – oh God, that soft shoulder – and turns towards the door. Guess she'd done her laundry by the time I got in.
"It's a shame that with maturity comes a loss of the ability to speak." She comments, her face drawn long in mock regret. "Same time next week, Logan? Maybe we can continue our rivetting conversation."
She saunters out of the laundrette, turning to wave at me through the glass window before she disappears off.
Could my life get anymore troublesome? Yes, it probably could.