A/N: Sorry for the delay! School and all that...Anyhow, review please!


"You are going where? With whom?" my mother grilled me early Wednesday morning. I had purposefully held off on telling them about my date until the last minute, for fear of their reaction.

"A date. With Logan." I repeated again.

"Logan from the garage?" my dad asked. He had set his laptop and camera down to give this issue his full attention.

"Yes," I didn't elaborate. My parents were giving each other weary looks.

"Isn't he your boss?" my dad asked.

"Not technically." I squeaked out. "I mean, he's the one who supervises when Mr. Stryker is gone."

"And he is how old?" my mother joined my father on the couch.

"20." I said.

My parents stared at me for a full minute before speaking again.

"Where is he taking you?" asked my mom.

"I don't know. He said it's a surprise." My father narrowed his eyes.

"A surprise?" he asked. I nodded.

"N'Dare, could you give us a moment?" my dad asked my mom. She nodded and then swept out of the room silently. My dad patted the space on the couch next to him. I sat wearily.

"So, you like Logan," it was less of a question and more a statement of fact. I swallowed and nodded. "And he is a good person? A good man?"

"He treats me well." I couldn't quite meet my father's eyes. We had talks of this nature in the past, whenever I liked a boy, or went to the movies with one, but they were never comfortable.

My dad nodded. "You've never dated someone older than you. He is a grown man."

"I know," I said quietly.

"I forget that you are nearly an adult yourself." My dad sighed, "If he is good to you, and since we've already met him and he was nothing but polite, I suppose there is no harm in you going on a date with him." I released the breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"But," my father continued, perhaps sensing my relief, "he will come speak to me before you leave tonight. And you will be honest with us if anything progresses past simply dating." My cheeks flushed and I quickly shifted my gaze to the floor.

"Dad, I won't—I mean, we won't…" this was mortifying. "I'm not going to—"

"Not that," my father's eyes widened. "I mean, please use discretion in that area. You're too young for…" he cleared his throat while I wished I could dissolve into the floor. "It's simply that you are leaving very soon," his composure regained, he continued, "and I know how sensitive you are. So if this is not something that will last, or he is not who you think he is…" my dad broke off again. "What I am saying is that if you don't see a future, perhaps it is better to end it before you are too emotionally invested."

I thought about what he said for a moment. "I'll keep that in mind dad." My father looked relieved. He leaned in to hug me and I breathed in the scent of his cologne.

"You had better call this young man to let him know he will be meeting me again," my dad tried to pull off a stern look and I succumbed to giggles. He smiled at me.

"I'll go do that," I agreed.

A short time later, I saw on my bed, acutely aware of the fact that this would be the first time I was going to talk to Logan on the phone. I dialed in the novel number, and took slow, deep breaths as the phone rang beneath my ear.

"Hey, you've reached James Howlett…" I rechecked the number upon hearing this message. James? I listened closer, deciding that it was indeed Logan that was talking. I didn't know that his name was James. I vowed to ask him about it later. Disappointed and simultaneously relieved that I got his answering machine, I decided that I would just talk to him at work. I stood up to get ready. While I was rummaging through my closest, my phone began to vibrate from my bed. I reached it just in time.

"Hey 'Ro," Logan's voice greeted. "Sorry I missed your call."

"No problem James." I said, pulling on my jeans.

"Shit, I forgot you didn't know that was my name. Logan's my middle name. Sorry." I muttered that it was no problem. "Look, I figured I'd swing by and pick you up for work this morning. Is that ok?"

"Yeah, it's perfect actually." I shrugged the pants up my hips. "My dad, he wants to talk to you."

Logan swore mildly. "Am I in trouble with your old man already?" he asked good naturedly.

"No. He just wants to do the dad thing. Sorry." I said.

"No problem. Look, just get your stuff together for the date tonight. We're going to go right after work." He said. I felt myself begin to panic. I needed to prepare for a date. Primping took a long time and Jean was going to come over and…

"You there, darlin'?" Logan asked.

"Yes, just thinking."

"Listen. Don't panic or whatever girly thing. Just grab some jeans and a t-shirt. I already know what you look like so there's no need to cover your face in makeup. You're gorgeous anyway." I flushed, thankful he couldn't see me.

"Thanks," I mumbled. "Where are we going tonight?"

"That's for me to worry about," he said lightly. "It ain't going to be the typical wine and roses date, but I figured we can do that later. I got a feeling you're going to have fun tonight." My pulse picked up at his words.

"Alright," I agreed.

"I'll be at your house in a half hour." He said before hanging up.

I ran downstairs to inform my parents of his arrival, then hauled back up to call Jean while I ransacked my closet for my favorite pair of skinny jeans and a decent top.

"You're not even going to dinner?" Jean asked through the phone, positively scandalized.

"I don't know where we're going," I told her for the umpteenth time.

"You'd think, with all the money he makes, he could take you somewhere nice." Jean snorted.

"You're not helping, Jean! He offered to take me to dinner and a movie and I said I wanted something different. I told you that. Now tell me which top you think I should wear." Jean sighed, but helped.

"Wear the dark purple one with the zipper that runs down the back. Trust me, it leaves just enough to the imagination," I located it in my closet and held it up. It was a nice shirt, with a decent neckline that showed just "enough" as Jean had put it. I thanked her, hung up, packed my date outfit into a bag and walked downstairs just in time to answer the door for Logan.

He was in his standard white t-shirt and jeans, his under the jumpsuit "uniform". I greeted him.

"Let me go talk to your dad," he told me, "then we'll go." I nodded nervously. My parents had already come down. My father shook Logan's hand seriously and invited him into the living room. I was left standing in the foyer with my mother.

"He seems to be a nice man," she said simply. "Let us hope he does not prove me wrong." She smiled at me. I could think of nothing to say in response. Ten minutes later, Logan wandered out of the living room. He shook my father's hand again, wished my parents a good day and smiled at me.

"So, what happened?" I ventured while we pulled out in his truck.

"Your dad's a nice guy." Logan said simply.

"And?" I goaded.

"And he loves you." Logan shrugged. I stared at him, but he didn't break.

"That's all he said?" I asked skeptically.

"That, and some other things. And to have you back by midnight." Logan grinned at me. "Don't worry about it 'Ro."

I leaned back in my seat and tried not to think about it. "Alright."

The work day went impossibly slowly. I spent most of it at the front counter, taking money and writing receipts for tire rotations and oil changes and trying not to watch the clock. The little silver hands on the clock on the wall moved as if they were rusted, every minute stretching an hour. Victor and Forge were apparently not clued into Logan and I's plans for tonight. Victor hit on me as shamelessly as ever and Forge ventured in to apologize for his girlfriend's behavior.

"She, uh, she's a little mean-spirited sometimes." He said.

I managed to not burst out laughing at the understatement. "Maybe you'll mellow her out." I told him. I wasn't too fussed about Emma. She had freed the way for Jean and Scott, and Logan and I were going on a date. Emma's high school drama seemed petty and miles away.

"I saw you and Logan. At the party." Forge hinted. I eyed him sharply.

"Did you?" I said airily.

"I didn't think he was your type." He said. I detected the hint of jealously.

"Well, he didn't seem to be at first. But then again, first impressions aren't always completely accurate, are they?" I asked pointedly. Forge shrugged, then made an excuse to leave the room. I began to sense that Forge may have been the insecure type, or at very least, a type who was not used to girls not liking him. I laughed to myself at the counter.

6 o'clock came and went, and I was not sad to see the backs of Creed and Forge as they rolled out of the door.

"You ready, darlin'?" Logan asked.

Was I ever.