Author's Note:
Thanks for the reviews, guys. I've decided I'm JUST going to
work on this story—for now. As in, it's my main priority and
"Momentum" is my second. And this is the new chapter—enjoy. The title and quote for the chapter is from a Yo La Tengo song called
"Our Way to Fall."
Chapter 2
I Remember Walking Up To You
"I remember a summer's day, I remember walking up to you. I remember my face turned red, and I remember staring at my feet."—Yo La Tengo
Rory turned to the side, looking in the mirror at herself, appraising her outfit—slightly hesitating at going out with her current results. She closed her eyes and slumped down in the chair by her mirror, leaning forward to cradle her head in her hands so she could think. She rubbed her weary face, realizing quickly that she was probably smudging her eyeliner. Her eyes opened quickly and snapped to her fingers, where, sure enough, black marks lingered in an ugly manner. She glowered and stood up from her seat towards the exit of her room so she could make her way to the bathroom to wash her hands and reapply her eye makeup.
She passed by Steph, who had been ready for almost a half an hour, watching TV on their plushy couch. She narrowed her eyes as Rory appeared in the room. As Rory tried to rush by without Steph noticing her too much, Steph let out a low whistle. "Wow, Rory, Logan's going to like that."
Rory looked down at her outfit—she was wearing a plain, navy blue sundress, which ended just above her knees, clung to her figure tightly, had spaghetti straps, and revealed a modest amount cleavage. She decided to ignore her friend and made her way to the bathroom. Alas, Steph followed behind her, silently. Rory turned on the faucet, cupped her hands under the water, allowed them to fill and splashed the cool liquid over her face—washing off her smudged makeup. When she looked up, Steph was staring back in the mirror at her. Rory jumped in surprise. "Jeez, Steph, make a sound."
"You're going to put on eyeliner again, right? I think Logan would like that better." She smiled smugly as Rory turned around to berate her. "Before you say anything, I'd just like to point out that you're dressed up more than you'd usually be."
Rory rolled her eyes at her presumptuous friend. "Steph, drop it, it's not funny."
Steph looked at her innocently. "I'm not trying to be funny; I'm just trying to ignite true love." She looked off into the distance, lovingly, in a mocking manner.
Rory ignored her and leaned forward towards the mirror as she reapplied her eye makeup. "You have an overactive imagination."
Steph scoffed. "I do not, and if this rather scrumptious ensemble isn't to impress Logan, why are you wearing it—to impress Colin?" She made a face at the thought.
Rory turned to her with fire in her eyes, feeling like her friend's joke had been going on forever. "A, I'm not trying to impress anyone. B, you're more scantily clad than I am, perhaps you're the one trying to impress someone."
Steph barked a laugh. "Who am I trying to impress?"
Rory shrugged and began to apply lip-gloss to her lips. "Colin perhaps?" She pursed her lips, waiting for her reaction.
Steph gawked at Rory, open-mouthed, obviously incredulous when the tables were turned, and the accusations were being thrown at her. Rory smirked smugly. "Ew, Rory, Colin?" Rory nodded slowly. "With the sweater vests and the non-funny jokes."
Rory grinned, pleased that she was able to rile up her friend, "I've heard you laugh at a few of those lame jokes."
Steph let out an inelegant snort and rolled her eyes. "That's because I don't feel like nursing a bruised ego… he's really Hell-bent on being funny."
Rory gave her an all-knowing look that showed that she didn't believe her. "I'm just saying…"
"What makes you think that?" she asked, insulted.
"I don't know," Rory teased.
Steph growled. "No, please enlighten me."
"Well…" Rory droned, "you're always insulting him, taking digs at him, but despite that—you're always talking about him." She smiled as she watched Steph frown, deep in thought. "It's all very school yard-ish."
That snapped Steph out of her train of thought. She shook her head and turned towards the exit of the bathroom. "You're crazy," she mumbled. Rory laughed loudly, happy that she had won the argument and, perhaps, had deferred Steph from bringing up the prospect of her and Logan together.
She looked back at herself in the mirror and ran a hand through her silky curls. Who was she trying to impress? Though she wanted to look nice when she saw Logan, she knew that it wasn't for Logan. She stood in front of the sink for a minute, contemplating the reasoning behind getting gussied up, and decided to follow Steph out of the room—with a new thought in mind. Steph was sitting at the island in their en suite kitchenette, sulking at Rory's insinuations. "You know," Steph looked up at her with a scowl firmly in place, "I've decided something." Steph merely grunted in response. "No, listen," she sat down on the stool next to her, and Steph propped her self up by resting her chin on the palm of her hand, "I've decided that, it's a new year, I'm single for the first time since, what, eighth grade?" Steph nodded, her sourness dissolving into a state of interest. "I think it's time for me to have fun, and not," she deliberately looked Steph in the eye so she could tell that she was serious, "worry about any relationship woes—past or present."
Steph allowed a coy smile to spread over her face. "Meaning…" She sat on the edge of her seat, waiting to hear Rory vocalize the connotations that she picked up on from her previous statement.
"Meaning, I'm going to 'play the field.'"
Steph shot up like a bottle rocket and squealed in delight. "Yippy, I can be your wingman—er, wing-girl. Either way, I'm going to help you get laid… and vice-versa."
Rory felt her throat go dry, instantly nervous at the prospect of sleeping with strangers. She shook her head. "I'm not sure if I'll go that far… quite yet…"
Steph waved her off. "Whatever, at least now I have someone to go barhopping with on a regular basis. It should be easier to get you to go out now that you're a single lady, out on a night on the town." She clapped in excitement.
Rory laughed at her enthusiasm. "That's right—Tristan who?"
Steph pouted and shook her head. "I don't know anybody by that name."
Rory looked off to the side and waved at an imaginary person. "Goodbye, Tristan Dugrey—"
"—Hello, Logan Huntzberger," her peppy friend finished for her. Rory frowned, annoyed for the umpteenth time that day. She turned towards her and put her hands on her hips in indignation. Steph simply smiled sweetly at her scowl.
"COLIN!" Rory barked, effectively making Steph scrunch up her face in disgust.
--
Logan looked out of the window down on the dozens of people and vehicles scurrying around on the New York City street below him. He felt antsy watching them, and longed to join them on the street. Well, not them, but he definitely wanted to get out of his father's office. He had practically been confined here ever since his dad dragged him home from Fiji almost a week ago. He was supposed to stay another day before he went back to Yale for his second year, but he never did like to comply with his father's wishes. Now, he was ready to make his grand escape, which he had to do quickly since his father just left to go use the restroom.
He briskly walked towards the exit and entered the receptionist area. He walked past his father's leggy, blonde secretary, hoping that if he strolled by quickly and with purpose, she wouldn't think twice about it.
"Excuse me, Mr. Huntzberger, where do you think you're going?" she asked in her thick, British accent.
Logan cringed, having his half-assed plan foiled. He shrugged, feigning innocence to the woman who couldn't have been four years older than he was. Yet, she was his unofficial babysitter for the week. "I'm just getting some air."
She raised her eyebrows and lowered her trendy glasses down to the tip of her nose, not believing his generic story. "Your father has asked me to keep you in his office. He still has some things that he needs to discuss with you."
Logan rolled his eyes, realizing that she was probably sleeping with his father, so she wanted to keep him happy at all costs. He walked over to her desk and leaned against it, bracing his arms on the surface, so he was close enough so he could whisper and she could hear him. "Listen." She blinked at his close proximity, obviously feeling uncomfortable. She fidgeted unnervingly with the tight bun on the top of her head. He plastered on his infamous smirk, feeling her squirm under his scrutiny. She was very attractive—at least once she let down her hair and shed the busy body exterior. And if he didn't already know that she was fooling around with his father—blech—he might have considered convincing her to let him leave in an entirely different way. But right now he was in a hurry… and he didn't feel like delving into something that was borderline incest. She looked up at him, expecting him to continue. "I have plans tonight with a very dear friend of mine and she wouldn't like it if I were extremely late." Her eyes narrowed at the mention of 'she.' "Besides, making my dad mad is just a plus that I just can't pass up."
She leaned back in her chair—effectively gaining distance from him, and crossed her arms over her chest. She shook her head and shot him a disapproving glare. "Your father left it up to me to keep you inside his office while he was gone. I'm not going to jeopardize my job, so you can get your daily dose of rebellion."
Logan was just about to argue when he saw a bunch of people coming towards the glass door of the reception area. His smirked broadened and he nodded at her. "Okay," He looked down at the faux, gold nameplate on her desk. "Dina, I'll just go back into my dad's office. I wouldn't want you to get into any trouble. He winked at her and started walking backwards to his dad's office.
She looked at him strangely, but was quickly distracted by the amount of people who entered the office. "Oh," she told the many invaders, "okay, everyone get in a line, please, Mr. Huntzberger will be back in a moment."
Logan took her flustered moment as an opportunity to slip back into the receptionist area, fling his worn, leather jacket over his shoulder, and blend in with the crowd as he made his way towards the glass doors. He casually walked over towards the elaborate elevators, smirked at the people watching him leave, and tipped an imaginary hat at them as the double doors closed with a ding on the escapee. As he reached the lobby and strolled through the busy entrance, he could swear he heard his father's scream.
Logan's smile crept across his entire face, reaching his eyes, as he practically skipped through the streets of New York. He walked to the corner and put his hand in the air, trying to hail a taxi. At this rate, he would be hours early for his meeting with his Ace at the pub. Just as he finally got a taxi, his head turned as a girl with long, brown hair, and long legs walked past him—reverting her eyes to the ground as he met her glance. He waved the taxi on as he followed the girl who was wearing a flow-y pink skirt. His Ace would understand if he was a little bit late, wouldn't she?
--
Hours later and forty-five minutes late for meeting his friends, Logan sauntered into the crowded, musky bar. He scrunched his face up at the smell of alcohol and sweat. He surveyed the area for the gang and his two childhood friends, whom he hadn't actually laid eyes on in years. It was loud in there, and, later, he would learn that Colin and Finn were calling his name, but at that moment it all sounded like a buzzing chainsaw. He needed a drink. As he started towards the bar, a pair of beautifully pale, flawless, long legs came into view.
His eyes traveled up until his gaze met navy material just above knee-level. Sudden flashes of those legs wrapped around his waist flooded into his mind and he smirked deviously. He made his way towards the legs—and the girl—and stopped short as she turned around and he met a pair of dazzling blue eyes to match her dress. Someone might as well have kicked him in the chest or doused him in cold water, because his heartstrings tugged and his body temperature dropped drastically. Her smile, a grown up smile he didn't remember, stretched across her no-longer-cherub-but-angular-and-sophisticated face as she recognized him.
She put down the drink she was sipping and rushed towards him, quickly finding her way into his arms. She was talking—always talking—but he didn't hear any of it. He was horrified that he had just been checking her out. He was horrified that he noticed the feel of her breasts smashed against his chest. And he was horrified that he liked the feel of her porcelain smooth arms around his tanned neck. He shouldn't be thinking about his best friend this way.
Author's Note: A very short chapter, but the next one will be longer. This was more like a filler chapter—it's setting up some stuff for the next one. Reviews please, I'm updating weekly... on Saturdays.