Logan Echolls could look downright predatory from the right angle and Veronica felt her breath hitch in her chest at his incessant gaze. He was mentally undressing her in class and she should have been more worried about it.
The bell rang and, despite the fact that he had been joking, Veronica felt a small slip of paper being discreetly pressed into her hand as Logan walked past. Effortlessly cool.
The paper read simply: "Yours?"
Once outside the class she caught his eye from across the corridor. Veronica nodded once and tried to ignore his contagious smirk, appearing nonchalant to the rest of the student body. It took only minutes for her to watch Logan dissolve into the 09er crowd before she turned and headed towards her locker to meet Wallace for lunch. All she had to do was be cool, she could do that.
The rest of the day melted away into pop-quizzes and missing person's investigations. It was all very mild mannered and Veronica was almost itching to get out of Neptune High and back to the sanctity of her own home.
With her dad away on a rare out-of-town excursion she had no one but Backup to worry about Logan coming over. Their strange tryst was heating up quickly and Veronica at least had the presence of mind to think that it might be a bad idea for him to come over in the middle of the night while they were all alone. But it was fleeting – because if she was going to go down that route she shouldn't be kissing him at all, let alone in her unoccupied apartment.
Either way, he was late and she was not surprised. The television quickly failed to keep her entertained and Backup was long asleep.
Finally, when the clock hit 11pm she grabbed her keys and headed towards the 09er zip.
He was lying on the floor – looking poisoned – when she arrived. Crashed out in the pool house Logan looked like he'd been on the wrong end of a car and Veronica's mind flashed briefly back to the sight of his father whipping another man with his Italian leather belt.
There was a sheen in his eyes and vodka on his breath as she approached. "Are you okay?"
"Doesn't hurt," he muttered.
"Are you kidding me? You're bleeding."
He lifted a mostly empty container of vodka. "Doesn't hurt anymore."
"You can't just keep drinking," she sighed.
His words were slightly slurred. "Got a basis for that assumption?"
"How about: if you do I'm only sticking around for five more minutes?" she countered. Sitting down next to him, she glared defiantly.
"Better make it a good five minutes then." He reached out to kiss her, fingers curling around her jaw.
"Maybe ten," she murmured into his mouth.
By the time he had a leg pressed between her thighs and a hand beneath her head – tangled in her hair – Veronica was pretty sure she was making a big mistake.
Her fingers raked down his back, searching for hold on the bottom of his shirt and she felt simultaneously frustrated and relieved that he wore layers. As if she was preparing herself.
She had seen both Duncan and Logan shirtless countless times on the beach; however she had never seen either of them sans clothing while they were pushing her whole body back into a bed. And she hoped with every part of her brain that was not currently occupied by Logan's wandering hands, that neither of them had ever done this to her before.
He got down to her bra before she accidentally bit his lip and asked him to stop.
Thoroughly tousled and breathing heavily he peeled himself off of her, fingers coming up to dab his lip as he looked to the ceiling – trying to gain strength, patience.
"Sorry," she breathed. Sitting up Veronica was seemingly unconscious that her legs were still spread.
"For God's sake, Veronica, close your legs. Didn't your mother ever teach you any manners? Don't advertise if you're not selling," he bit off. His cheeks were still flushed, his arousal fuelling his irritation.
Self-consciously she drew her feet in until she was sitting cross-legged. "You're an ass."
She was blushing and plumped and as he drew his bottom lip into his mouth to dispose of the excess blood, Logan sighed. "You're going to kill me." He rolled his eyes, letting a hand fall onto the inside of her knee, his sarcasm placed aside. "You okay?" he asked quietly.
She shrugged a little, quirking her mouth. "It's just…" Veronica hesitated, unusually unsure of herself.
"You're not ready?" he finished.
There was a lengthy pause. "Not exactly."
"So…" He waited for an answer.
"I just, I had a bad experience before," she tried to explain.
"You want references?" He smirked, pulling his cell from the pocket of his jeans.
She replied with a watery grin. "I've got references."
"Well, that's good to know," he responded wryly.
Her grin was quickly gone. "But… not that kind of bad."
Logan suddenly looked concerned. "Bad, how?"
"Bad like rape." She knew her face was blank. Any emotion cried out and washed down her shower drain months beforehand.
"Like, what?" he seethed.
"I was raped." She was scarily calm, controlled. The only other time she had ever said the words out loud Lamb laughed in her face, Veronica didn't know why she was doing this with Logan.
"By WHO?" He jumped off the bed, pulling on his discarded t-shirt, the fury burning up his neck.
Veronica refused to let her voice crack. "I don't know."
He shot her a skeptical look.
"I was unconscious," she explained. "Guess all that stuff they say about pouring your own drinks isn't just for fun."
She heard his breath hitch with white-hot rage.
"Don't even joke." He spat out the words, trying to control them. Each one cracked like a bullet shot, releasing just enough tension to stop him from exploding.
"Logan, just sit down," she implored. "It was almost a year ago… and I can't change it so there's no point making a big deal out of this."
"Did you report it?" His gaze was unwavering.
"Of course," she swallowed. "And Sheriff Lamb took great pleasure in laughing me out of the station," her voice broke.
Silence engulfed the room as Logan slowly took a spot on the end of the bed again. Veronica had now drawn her knees into her chest, carefully wrapping her arms around them. He wasn't touching her. She was infinitely glad.
"Did you tell your dad?" his voice was softer than usual.
Her eyes were glazed thick with unshed tears. "No. He would've gone crazy."
"He would've been right," Logan grumbled below his breath. He looked up suddenly, meeting her shaky gaze. "Are you scared?"
"Scared?" She blinked, focusing on him.
"Of, uh, of me?" he fumbled for the words.
She bit her lip tightly. "No. It's just… I… it's worse not knowing, I think. I mean for all I know… it could have been you."
Logan looked like she'd just shot him. "Never. Not even when I hated you."
"I know." She sighed, the shivering motion rushing through her lungs.
His hand traced her shoulder lightly as he leaned over, lips brushing into hers. She responded, pressing her mouth to him more firmly, and as they broke apart he held her face close to his.
"Nobody's going to hurt you," he promised.
She tried a smile. "You know that's not true. Don't start lying to me now, Logan."
"I'm not lying," he insisted, his thumb running the length of her jaw. She could still hear the anger evident in his tone. His voice was almost shaking.
She pulled back, a sad smile adorning her lips as she searched for her own shirt, talking as she pulled it over her head. "Well, thanks. But you know what? I think I'll pass on the casual sex."
He watched her carefully from his perch on the bed. "This seems casual to you?"
"Isn't that what we are? No strings attached, casual? It's not like I'm your girlfriend."
"You don't want to be my girlfriend," he countered.
"That's true." She smiled for real. "Logan Echolls' Girlfriend wasn't my first choice of resume toppers. And, just, this isn't…"
"Isn't what?"
"Imagine what your friends are gonna do, Logan?"
"You're implying I care what my friends think."
"You don't?"
"Not like… c'mon, you're more important than that," he mumbled.
Her fingers stopped in the middle of buttoning, paused for a brief moment. "I uh… bathroom break," she decided finally.
Logan pointed behind him.
"I'll just use the main house." Veronica slipped out of the glass doors before he could protest.
Although she had been sneaking around with Logan for a while, Veronica was a little lost in the Echolls' remodelled home. Still, his mostly uninhabited, secluded mansion was much more convenient than her one and a half bedroom apartment complete with overprotective father.
He rounded the corner suspiciously, his bruises more visible in the light. "Why're you hiding out in my kitchen?"
She shrugged, running a finger along the counter aimlessly. "Sight-seeing."
Logan settled properly on his feet, one hand pushing into his jeans pocket while the other swung by his side, lifting slightly to gesture around the room. "I'd give tours but the crockery always ends up on eBay."
Veronica nodded; sure he could see the smile creeping into her eyes. "So I should put it back while you're not looking, right?"
"It'd be best, wouldn't want to have to frisk you or anything."
She nodded seriously. "I understand completely."
He took a step towards her, his feet swinging lightly on the ground as he moved closer. Logan tilted his head down until they were eye to eye, his face deadly serious. "However if you wanna go in for the full cavity search we can take this upstairs."
She sighed dreamily. "Such a sweet talker..."
"C'mon, you know I'm joking."
"I do," she said in a tone that meant more than the words. It was soft and sweet, things that they hadn't really attributed to their time together. She took a deep breath and a step back. "You know, you were supposed to come to mine."
"Sorry, something came up." He shrugged.
"And you walked right into it? What happened to your face?"
"Doesn't matter, it's fine."
Veronica looked up sharply, disbelief in her voice. "Are you kidding me?"
Logan was insistent. "Listen, it doesn't hurt."
"Only 'cause you're drunk."
"I'm not drunk. Pretty sure your little revelation sobered me right up."
"I bet a breathalyzer or co-ordination test says otherwise."
"What do you want me to do? Say the alphabet backwards?"
"I want you to tell me what happened to your face."
"I got in a fight, alright?"
Veronica was incredulous. "What did you do, stand there and take it?"
"You should see the other guy," he muttered softly.
An awkward silence sat between them, neither willing to give up anymore to the other.
Veronica pushed away from the counter. "I should get home."
"Thought your dad was out of town?" Logan asked.
"I should still get home." She decided keeping her eyes on the floor.
"Right." He nodded in response before looking up from where his hand traced the opposite side of the counter from Veronica. "You sure? Dad's at an overnight with his cooking class."
"They have fieldtrips?"
"Fresh food plucked straight from the heart of nature. The secret ingredient is dirty hands, so he'll be good at it."
Awkward silence returned to its place between the pair, Veronica nervously fingering the hem of her blouse. Slinging her purse over one shoulder definitely she nodded, finally deciding, "I should go."
"Right." Logan hung back, toeing the floor with one sneaker as she disappeared through the glass doors.
The drive home was short; Veronica wasn't in the mood for anymore ghosts jumping out at her. The LeBaron slid quietly through the 09 zip, undetected, and back into the silence of her own shabby apartment complex.
Dread slicked her stomach as Veronica grabbed an apple from the bowl with no intention of eating it. She flung open the door, looking back to utter a quick, "bye, boy," to Backup. Late for school because you were studying all night was one thing; late for school because you paid a very drunken and intoxicated boy a night time visit was another.
The ground was unnaturally soft beneath her feet as she stepped outside and Veronica stopped short. A small smile twitched at her lips as she looked down. Neatly folded on the porch, underneath her foot, was her sweater from the night before.