Inspired by the song "The Older I Get" by Skillet.
This is a gift for one of my best Youtube buddies, Song. She's the biggest Zogan fan I know. I really hope she likes this :)
Warning: Contains Zogan. If you don't like it, don't read it. I thank the people greatly who don't ship this couple but are willing to be open-minded. Bravo.
He stormed into the office the day before New Years Eve. He seemed upset (probably over the fact that he lost his favorite bottle of hair gel…his hair did look a little unusually unkempt) and being a good friend, I tried to get his mind off of it, "Hey Logan," I said swiveling around in my big leather chair to face him, with a smile on my face.
"Don't talk to me, Brooks," he told me and walked over to the coffee pot and poured himself some into a cheap, plastic cup.
"What's wrong?" I ignored him and pressed on.
It couldn't be that bad. Logan was basically the only friend from high school that I really see on a daily basis (Imagine that!). Sure, I talked to my other friends on occasion (except for Chase. He was my best friend and we broke up in senior year. After graduation, we never talked. Supposedly, he's with Lola now), but it was nothing compared to the friendship Logan and I now shared. Knowing him ever since high school, I knew the ways of Logan Reese. It was probably something trivial and silly. I heard him sigh as he put his lips up to plastic cup. For some strange, twisted reason, I was starting to think that maybe this wasn't just something as stupid as Logan losing his mirror.
After a long time of silence, he didn't respond. I decided to ask another question, "So…what are your plans for New Years?"
"I had plans. Now, everything's all ruined," he said through gritted teeth. As soon as he opened my mouth, he said, "and don't even ask."
I knew better than to pester him any longer, so I sighed and went back to sketching out the perfect outfit for a New Year's party.
He sat at his shiny Mac, typing away, probably replying to emails. An expression I couldn't quite read on his face…a cross between depressed and angry, a kind of broody air to him. It was then that I identified it: the expression he saved for times when something huge had happened to him, like the time a year ago when his dad had proclaimed he was getting divorced to Wife Number Eight (or was it nine?), and Logan was actually starting to like her. Something had to be up.
I bit my perfectly glossed lip, and was about to open my mouth, when the phone beside me rang. I picked up, "Brooks and Reese Outfitters."
"Hello? Ms. Brooks? A top executive needs to talk to you. Want me to put you on?" The receptionist, Angela, said.
I bit my lip again (After this call, I would definitely have to touch up in the little girl's room) and looked over at Logan, who's elbows were propped up on the desk, hand on his forehead, "Umm…sure. Put me on," and I talked to the guy for a few minutes before finally putting down the telephone.
"Who was that?" he asked after a few moments of silence.
"Just a top exec wanting the details for the new line," I replied.
He nodded curtly, then started tapping away again.
"Yeah...well, I need to freshen up in the restroom. I'll be back in a bit," I said, standing up.
Before I was about to leave our office, "Zoey," he said softly, "Quinn broke up with me."
My heels clicking against the tiled floor stopped, and I turned around to face him, "What?" I said in disbelief.
He nodded his head sadly, and quickly looked down when our brown eyes (his chestnut brown, mine chocolate) met for one nanosecond, "Guess, you know…all good things have to come to an end at some point."
"Look," I sighed, "you and Quinn are meant to be, no matter how weird that sounds. She'll realize she's made a mistake, and everything will probably be okay again."
He snorted, "Easy for you to say. Talk to the guy who's had eight moms. I know better than to dream of things like me and Quinn getting back together and living happily ever after."
"It could happen."
"Well…how about you and Chase? Everyone thought you guys would live happily ever after when he re-entered the scene at junior prom."
"Logan…" I said through clenched teeth. He knew that my break-up with Chase in senior year was a totally off-limits topic. If he hadn't just broken up with his girlfriend, he would've deserved a good smack across the face.
"Just saying!" he said.
I sat back down again, and instead brought out my mirror, and touched up my lip gloss there, "May I ask why she broke up with you?"
"Well," he sighed, "it's a long story."
"Well," I snapped the case shut, and looked over at him, "I'm not that busy today. I have time."
"Fine...you win, Brooks. Anyway, we just broke up because we have clashing schedules: her being a brain surgeon, and me being the head of a big fashion company. It just wasn't working out, I guess."
"Not that long of a story. Anyway, you could probably work around it," no they can't, I thought bitterly to myself. I was a good friend, though. He needed comforting.
"Again, it's not that easy. We hardly ever get to see each other, and it's hasn't been working out for awhile now. Ask Quinn yourself. Have you talked to her lately?"
"Not really. I'm way too busy with work to talk to my old friends from PCA. I hardly ever talk to them anymore…"
"That's just because you immerse yourself into work. Let's face it, you're a workaholic. It's almost like you crave it or something. I think I balance work and spending time with my girlfriend pretty well. She was the one who couldn't commit."
I rolled my eyes, "I am not a workaholic. Not like I have a boyfriend or anything to balance things out. And sorry, but we work over 40 hours a week here, so I wouldn't be putting all the blame on her."
"Whatever," he sighed. His phone rang; the receptionist wanted him out in the lobby to meet a group of executives for a meeting.
--
"Hey, Logan," I said after he reentered the room a few hours later.
"Hey," he mumbled, sitting down, a hand massaging his forehead. It was hard to see my best friend stressed. I had to make him feel better.
I swiveled my chair around to face him, "You've probably heard of the company party we're having."
"Well, duh! I was the one who was kind of overseeing it. I'm not going, though."
"What? This isn't the Logan Reese I know. After break-ups, you're always out there, trying to get back in the game."
"Well…things have changed since Quinn. She's changed me for the better," he looked at me with those chestnut brown eyes, and I almost wanted to cry.
"Look. Why don't we go together?"
He said nothing, but shot me a glare.
"I know, I know! Just as friends, though."
"Fair enough, Brooks," he said, turning his back to me as he answered the ringing phone.
--
I show up wearing a ruby red, knee-length dress (designed by me), a black sweater, a black pendant, and red high heels. Tasteful, but still casual.
Music is blaring and he's on the other side of the room, at the punch bowl. It was kind of frightening to see him standing there for more than two seconds. He was always the life of the party.
I walked up to him, "Hi," I said.
"Oh, hey, Zoe," he said, taking a sip of his punch.
"Um…wanna dance or something?" I said awkwardly, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, pointing at the dance floor. It feels like high school all over again, seriously.
"Or something," he mumbled.
I'm flabbergasted (or as Logan would say, gabberflasted). This is so unlike the Logan Reese I had come to know.
"We're just friends, Logan. Everyone's doing the "Cha Cha Slide" out there together. Have fun! It's New Year's!"
He reluctantly agrees, and he dances with everyone else the rest of the night (I even noticed him slow dance with one of the other designers, Jasmine). Everything he does is with a disinterested look, or even more heart-breaking, he put on that brooding expression but when he saw someone look at him, put on a half-hearted smile.
--
A few hours later, we're counting. "5, 4, 3, 2, 1! Happy New Year!" we all chorused as the clock struck 12. A new year, new beginnings. I couldn't wait to start fresh and new. I closed my eyes and took everything in.
There was Logan, across the room. He saw me and smiled, his perfect, pearly whites gleaming. I knew that it was all a façade. I could see the sad eyes hiding behind that fake, beautiful, smile. He was probably wishing he could have kissed Quinn as the clock striked 12, like he probably did so many years previously. I felt terrible for him.
"Okay! Let's have one last dance before we all go on home!" the DJ announces and plays a slow song. "The Older I Get" by Skillet, to be exact. How fitting.
"You…want to dance?" he says, coming up beside me.
I don't hesitate, "Sure."
He takes his hand in mine and leads me to the center of the dance floor. He places his hands on my hips and I place mine around his shoulders. We sway in time to the music.
Before we know it, the song is fading out, ending. Everyone stops to file out, and we're still dancing with our music being the chatter of the people around us. Then, the magical moment is over, and he laughs and I laugh too.
"Happy New Year," he whispers in my ear, and I'm tingling with sheer joy. I whisper the same thing back. We hug and part ways. My head is reeling.
--
I'm in my car on the drive home. He didn't kiss me when on that one paranormal minute bridging one year to the next. Still, something happened between us. He may not know my true feelings, but it's okay. It's a new year…anything's possible.
--
Logan's POV
I'm in my shiny new Lamborgini, driving home. New feelings have washed over me. I still love Quinn and I think I always will, but a dormant feelings emerged from the recesses of my mind, coming back to haunt me. But Zoey doesn't have to know that. She might not ever know. I can't help feeling that this could be the start of something new. It's a new year…who know what could happen?
I hope you guys liked it (especially you, Song). I wish you all a great New Year's!
And sorry for a bit of throwing a bit of Quogan in there...I couldn't resist!
Review, Favorite, Subscribe! You know you want to ;)
~HOTL~