Her lips caught the corner of his mouth, a show of gratitude that softly slipped its target. For the briefest of moments she allowed herself to act on impulse and Veronica immediately chided herself – inwardly wincing in apprehension of his reaction. She had never expected a hand to stop her leaving and lips to part her own.
It was not a perfect kiss and that seemed appropriate – fitting for two people whose relationship, history and lives were far from ideal.
If Veronica had had the time to process her thoughts she might have realised how much her 'kidnapping' had rattled her. How deep down in the part of her brain that wasn't actively fighting for survival she had wondered if she was destined to be abused by the boys and men of Neptune. Veronica might have realised consciously that Logan had offered her something that day that no one had the night of her attack – something that she could not brush away with a tough demeanour and sarcastic quips.
It was well documented that Logan and herself had a lot of muddy, blood-stained water under their burned out bridges but the boy in front of her had not been the same one who tormented her for the months after Lilly's death. It had not even been the one to casually laugh and drink with her in the days of Veronica's 09er glory. He was too quiet; too focused, she briefly wondered if maybe he was just tired of his endless show.
The façade he worked so hard at to prove he was not grieving.
But she couldn't be sure, Logan had never been an open book and he wasn't likely to let her leaf through his pages just because of one slip-up in their defences.
What she did know was that she wanted to kiss him back. He caught her by surprise like she caught him by surprise but this was something mutual – however transitory the moment was. The kiss was not broken but came to a natural end, his hands holding her flush against him, on tip toes, her face reluctant to move from his.
Veronica did not want to face this.
She had never thought of herself as a coward before but when his hands awkwardly left her hips – politely freeing her from the embrace – Veronica found she was running. Reaching her car she hesitated, stopping only for a second glance up at the balcony – a confirmation of the figure that watched her intensely.
She would like to chalk the whole experience up to adrenaline, to fear and comfort – to teenage hormones. It seemed like a wholly logical conclusion, especially given the situation and her past, but it just doesn't fit somehow. Just felt tried.
The feelings settled in her chest felt organic – steadily and naturally grown. They did not feel like the product of chemicals and that only confused the situation even more because no matter what was living in the cavity beneath her breast she knew it would not end well. How could something bred out of obligation, guilt and pity ever become more than an occurrence?
Her mouth had felt heavy and well and truly raided. The lining inside thicker somehow. The flesh his tongue had teased had stayed fuzzy and foreign even after she had brushed her teeth. Her lips pouty and well used.
I am not Lilly.
She wanted to ask him if he thought of her with her tongue in his mouth and her fingers on his throat. She wanted to ask if she was an adequate substitution – her tone just sarcastic enough to hide the secret bitter nerves.
She would never ask though. He may not have made it a joke but still, she could not let it be real.