It had only been a few weeks… since her father had almost died, since Cassidy jumped, since Mac was traumatized, since she had nearly become a murderer, since she had discovered the truth about Shelly Pomroy's party and the origin of her chlamydia.
Only a few weeks, but she dreamed every night that it was that night.
Sure, she had a great time in New York. Even with her dad arriving a few days late—and she hadn't let him hear the end of him, that's for sure, she had still had the time of her life.
But now, every time her dad went away chasing after some bail jumper or on a stakeout, she was going to wonder if he would be coming back. If some other maniac was going to blow up the plane he was on. She wasn't paranoid. She had experienced too much trauma over the course of her last few years to believe that life would somehow just work itself out, in her favor no less.
Logan had been better than ever with her. It wasn't just him spinning her around and kissing her up against walls that made things a little more tolerable. He also seemed to have a newfound respect for his own life and hers, and a little less immaturity and self-destruction.
Those summer nights, though. Whew.
It was getting hot in Neptune like it did every June, but things were heating up even more at the Neptune Grand. And in Logan's car. And on her couch.
Thank goodness for air conditioning…and her growing collection of "personal massagers."
She knew objectively that her first sexual experience didn't need to define her or the rest of her love life. Cassidy's violation of her didn't make her damaged.
She and Duncan had cleared away a lot of that trauma this past year. Despite Logan's taunts, Duncan had always made her feel good. Safe. Loved.
But he was right about one thing. The cuddling had been the best part.
And with Logan… god, things had always been so intense with him. Whether they hated or loved each other, she and Logan could never be indifferent toward one another. That passion had manifested pretty clearly in their physical relationship.
That part had never been the problem. It was the other part—the trust part—that made their relationship difficult.
To be fair to Logan, Veronica knew that she wasn't a trusting person by nature. In fact, there was a very short list of one—well, two if you counted Backup—whom she trusted unconditionally. Logan didn't really make the cut.
She wanted him to. She tried to start trusting him in little ways. She gave him every opportunity to prove that he was as trustworthy as she believed he could be.
He came to her one day asking her to look into some problem he and Dick were having after being at a strip club all night. She didn't even bat an eyelash, solving the issue for them in classic Veronica Mars style—but this time she held (most of) the snarky commentary. She didn't ask any questions beyond those necessary to solve the case.
They were both dealing with everything in their own ways. She couldn't even fault Dick for his coping mechanisms of choice. Her own were a lot less tawdry, but whatever got him through the day…
Logan had explained the whole thing, afterwards, and made her feel good that she hadn't questioned him like he was a criminal—like the whole world wanted to see him.
He went away to visit Trina for one weekend, and came back looking a sad puppy. His only living family, and what a disappointment she was. Veronica wanted to believe that one day he could join hers.
But that led her to the whole trust issue again. She was starting to sound like a broken record.
It was a night in July and her father was out—had been for a day or so already—searching for a bail jumper that had fled to Mexico. It had been hard to watch him go, but this one, he had said, would buy them steak dinners for the month. Or, she had suggested, contribute to the Veronica Mars Poor College Student Fund. He recommended that she take up babysitting again.
She mentioned that to Logan, and he responded that he might like to come over.
"You gonna buy me a steak dinner first?" she asked, jokingly. "I've been told it's not ladylike to put out without a meal first."
He had laughed it off and said that he had been very unladylike himself, lately. Then she took his hand and kissed him like she meant it.
He came over just after 8, checking first that the coast was clear. Only Backup was their chaperone.
He smiled that way only Logan can smile, that look that always shot straight to her heart. Lately, though, she had felt her appreciation of Logan's smiles, and laughter, and kisses…somewhat lower.
It wasn't that when they broke up and got back together things just picked up where they left off. They were comfortable with each other again, to a degree, but also still relearning each other. The first time he had put his hand under her shirt in Logan/Veronica 2.0, she had jumped like she had been afraid for her life. That or his hands had been really cold.
When they were making out once on his couch at the Neptune Grand, and his shirt was off, she had absently traced the scars Aaron gave him like she used to, smoothing over the abuse with a little bit of tenderness. He had shaken under her touch and looked away, like he had forgotten how to be this vulnerable—this intimate—with her.
She had blushed when she remembered how his hands had felt inside her jeans the previous night, how she had gasped and cried out beneath his touch. How she had dreamt of it that night and then could barely face him the next day. Hell, she had been worried her dad would somehow notice something different about her, even though this was after Cassidy, and after Duncan, and certainly after Logan/Veronica 1.0, which had been very heavy with the under the clothes touching.
And then, that night, when he had come over while her father was out representing Mars Investigations in the bounty hunter circles, he had found her collection of…well, her private toy collection.
Logan had reacted exactly as she expected, all macho posturing and laughing and then asking her to try one of them while he watched. She had refused, flushed, and nearly kicked him out. Backup barked at the door, worried about her.
When he realized she was hurt, Logan sobered immediately.
"Hey," he said, "I didn't mean to make you feel weird. Sorry. Truth is, I was worried you have this stuff because I'm not, you know, enough, or you're not getting what you need."
To which, she had rolled her eyes, pushed him back towards her bed, and sat on top of him.
"I have this stuff because you make me feel… well, that's it, really. You've turned me into some sort of sex-crazed maniac, and we haven't even…"
"Yeah, I know. I was wondering if this was going to come up soon."
She looked down. "Well I think something already has."
He adjusted and kissed her briefly. "I just don't want to push, Veronica. I don't want you to think that this is just about sex or that I need that from you to be with you or something."
She nodded. "I'm not going to break. And I know how you feel about me, Logan." She knew without saying anything that his "epic speech" was running in both their heads. "But I'm also, maybe, soon, going to be ready, and you better gear up because if the past few weeks are any indication of your talent in the main event, I'm never going to let you out of bed."
A sound at the front of the apartment shook both of them out of their conversation, and then Keith's words, "Is that Logan's car I see? Honey, I hope you warned him about my gun collection," sounded through the door as they scrambled to rearrange and be presentable. By the time that Keith yanked Veronica's bedroom door open, Logan was sitting up in bed, with Veronica near but not touching him, and her laptop on his lap strategically hiding the evidence of their interaction. She had barely had time to kick her shoebox marked "Old cellphones/accessories" back under the bed before he entered.
A little bit of complaining and rehashing the first few days of their failed New York trip, two bail jumpers, and some Italian food later, Veronica had a brand new car. She had said goodbye to her LeBaron and welcomed the change, but not the awful jokes it would inevitably bring with it.
Logan, too, had upgraded his car. She had always had a soft spot for that unsightly yellow XTerra, but she could see the possibilities in his new ride as well. For one, it didn't carry memories with it of getting shot at by the PCHers, or getting caught and gawked at by Lucky and Dick, or of fleeing from the Fitzpatricks after nearly being killed.
The more she thought of it, Veronica wasn't sure why she had any good memories of that car. Probably Lilly. Lilly starred in many of her happiest memories, and helped cover up the bad ones.
When Logan picked her up in his new digs for the first time, she looked longingly at the backseat and smiled at him, her head tilted in that way he couldn't resist, even when she was accusing him of something horrible. Lilly didn't come to her daydreams often anymore, but here she was egging Veronica on and telling her how proud she was of her for her lewd public displays.
"Would you accompany me to a christening?" he asked, smirking and mock-bowing in his seat. His gaze had followed hers and deduced what she was thinking. He was thinking it too. Hell, he was rarely not thinking about some variation of Veronica Mars in his backseat.
His new windows, thankfully, were tinted enough that Veronica felt comfortable messing around with Logan, as long as they were in the right place at the right time. She would never get over the night that Lamb had caught her grinding on Logan's lap while he held her ass with one hand and felt her up with the other. Lamb had called her a whore and suggested he had been right about her the whole time. Logan had to hold her in the car so she wouldn't get arrested for assaulting an officer.
Since then, their explorations had been decidedly more private. It had taken them a few nights to gain back the courage to do anything outside the safety of Logan's hotel room, but if Veronica told the truth, she liked the thrill. Plus, it was really helpful for passing the time on long, boring stakeouts, with which Logan had recently been "helping" her.
On this particular night, Logan had been fingering her when suddenly, in the middle of one of her best orgasms yet, the couple she was tracking had chosen to end their long tryst downtown. She had leapt back into the driver's seat mid-moan, pulling her skirt down over her thighs and grabbing her camera, hoping she had time to get a money shot.
Logan had sat there looking pleased with himself, mouth smacking as he licked his fingers. "You look pretty pleased with yourself," she commented, practically glaring at him peripherally as she snapped a few photos in quick succession.
"I think I have reason to be," he said.
"Oh yeah, loverboy?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "We'll see about that—they've been in there for two hours and you heard the sounds she was making up there."
He grinned at her like it was Christmas morning and she had just offered him the perfect present. "Is that a challenge, bobcat?" he asked, seeing her blush at what the pet name reminded her of.
"I'm more of a dog person, you know," she joked, trying to deflect the sexual tension that had ramped up considerably.
He smirked, and she didn't even need him to make the joke.