A/N: A big, heartfelt thanks to everyone who has left a review. Your comments and opinions mean a lot. I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far.
"Okay, let's talk," Logan replied easily.
He was bemused by the momentary flicker of panic that flitted over Ace's face. It was a wonder that he could read her so easily. Her expressions spoke to him so effortlessly and Logan was oddly exhilarated by the fact that it was so natural how he understood her. This was why he couldn't comprehend why Ace had suddenly broken things off with him. He had been unable to read what was going through her mind. And that bothered him greatly. He had also missed her very much. But Logan hid it all behind a wall of amusement and practiced casualness.
Rory forced herself to be calm even though her heart raced wildly. A slow, simmering anger began to burn as Logan continued to look at her so calmly, so coolly. He stood there, the very picture of confidence and fearlessness. She wanted to wipe that ever present smirk off his face. "Not here. Outside," Rory said imperiously, hoping she was able to project her grandmother's haughty tone.
"Aww, wait. Wait a minute," Finn interjected. "You're going to deprive us of the pleasure of witnessing your little tete-a-tete," he bemoaned. "This is a party! We could use a little action a la 'The O.C.' You know, rich boy gets bitch slapped by wronged female. Fist fights. Pool orgies. Broken champagne bottles. Threesomes." Finn raked his eyes suggestively over Paris' body.
"Welcome to Yale, bitch," Colin added in his best surfer accent and failing miserably.
Paris eyed them disdainfully. "How you deadbeats manage to function in society is beyond me. Strip away daddy's name and credit cards, and all you've got left are drunk, little boys who can barely string two intelligent sentences together, let alone dress themselves in the morning. Just what is that thing you're wearing?" she asked, staring at Finn's crazy shirt. "And you," she said waving a hand at Colin, "Raiding Alex P. Keaton's closet, are you? I'm surprised you don't have your initials emblazoned on your sweater."
"Oh! We've got us a feisty one. And we like 'em feisty," Colin exclaimed cheerfully. "Alex P. Keaton is God. Thanks for the compliment." He turned to Finn, "I do believe those are wombats on your shirt, are they not?"
Finn smiled capriciously. "Why, yes, they most certainly are. You like my shirt, Paris? I can assure you that I look even better without it. Care to have a peek?"
"I say we make our getaway now, before the fireworks really get going," Logan said, his voice low and his mouth dangerously close to Rory's cheek. Next to them, Paris, Colin and Finn continued to snipe at each other.
At Rory's nod, Logan guided her smoothly towards the door. "After you."
As they made their way away from the party, the loud bass of the music was gradually replaced by the strong, nervous thump of Rory's heart. Now that she was alone with Logan, she wasn't quite sure where to start. Conflicting emotions surged through her. Love. Fear. Anger. Sadness. Resentment. Excitement. And the toes of her left foot were still being pinched into numbness by her boot.
"You'll be sure to alert me when the talking portion of the evening begins, won't you?" Logan quipped as they walked in silence.
It was now or never. Rory turned to him and opened her mouth to speak.
"Let me guess," he said before she could even utter a word, "Jerk? Ass? Arrogant? Inconsiderate...mindless...fratboy...lowlife. And, of course, my all-time favorite, buttfaced miscreant," Logan said, trying to keep a straight face. "I must say, Ace, you have an impressive command of the English language. And I certainly have been each of those things at one point or another in my life, but not a fratboy. Never a fratboy. And I do take issue with lowlife, as well."
Rory glared at him. Logan was trying to make her mad and keep her flustered, so that he could control the conversation. The mental chess game had commenced and Rory would not be satisfied until Logan's "queen" lay bloodied at her feet. "Alright, I admit that you may have a point. I rescind 'fratboy lowlife' and replace it with callous, amoral, manwhore pig," she said with a sugary sweet smile.
"Wow, 'callous, amoral, manwhore, pig,' is it?" Logan's eyes widened, even as he smiled back at her just as sweetly. "You do have a way with words."
"It's a gift."
"Hmmm," Logan pondered, "I don't consider myself to be particularly callous or amoral. I may be a little wild and wicked every now and then, but certainly not to the point of depravity or immorality. So we can strike those from the list." He eyed Ace keenly, sending her another one of his unapologetic smirks. "As for 'manwhore,' well, I suppose it's really just a matter of semantics, but I prefer playboy or ladies' man, or maybe even stud."
"You forgot 'pig.'" Rory replied, her saccharine smile tightening a bit as Logan continued to stand before her undaunted.
"Ah, yes, 'pig.' I'm neither a glutton nor a slob, so pig doesn't exactly fit either. Pigs sure have gotten a bad rap though. I'm sure they're great animals."
Was there ever a moment when Logan was not so maddeningly composed and self-assured? It was all Rory could do to keep from stomping on his foot with the heel of her boot. This was not going the way she wanted. But she was not going to give up. She refused to let Logan continue to have the upper hand. Paris' words echoed in her ears. Hardball. She had to play hardball.
"Tell me," she said coldly, "what is it like to feel nothing?"
Logan cocked his head to the side and regarded her curiously. "I feel things, Ace," he replied simply.
Rory pressed on. She was determined to have it out with him once and for all. "Do you, Logan? Do you really? You have fun, party, spend money. You're smart, you have great friends and gorgeous girls at your beck and call. P. Diddy wishes he could be you. Obviously, you enjoy life. And, hey, that's great. Everyone's life should be so freaking perfect. But, Logan, does it even mean anything to you?"
Like a warning sign, the cold, prickly feeling was back, winding its way up Logan's spine and across his neck. Unconsciously, he rubbed the back of his neck and wondered where Ace was going with her line of questioning. In his mind, they were entering dangerous territory. "Of course, it all means something, Ace. I'm not the apathetic, uninterested wretch that you seem to take me for. I enjoy life because I don't take it for granted. Every moment is lived. We should all sound our barbaric yawp, if only for a moment."
Her brows furrowed. "Whitman?" She didn't feel like having a literary reference contest just now.
"C'mon, Ace, I'm sure you sniffed Leaves of Grass when you were five," Logan teased. " 'I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world,' " he quoted. Rory wished he would stop. An intellectual Logan was guaranteed to make her knees weak. If only she didn't find his mind so brilliantly sexy, maybe she wouldn't have fallen so hard for him. "I know you feel that way, too, Ace. You're just a bit...more covert...more quiet about it," he added earnestly.
Rory considered Logan's words carefully. They were direct and honest, just as Logan had always been. Logan lived life to the fullest. He may be irresponsible at times, but no one could ever accuse him of being negligent or uncaring. Maybe they really were too different. Rory lived "in theory" – her world was one of books and ideas and dreams waiting for fulfillment. Meanwhile, Logan lived "in practice" – he brought his ideas and dreams to life, his world was all about doing, not thinking. If Logan was Walt Whitman, she was Emily Dickinson, the belle of Stars Hollow, cloistered from the outside world yet so eager to devour it.
As Logan stood quietly before her, Rory wondered how this Logan this smart, intuitive Logan could possibly be the same as that other Logan who drunkenly stomped on her heart and slept with other girls so easily. The two just didn't seem to reconcile.
"Why'd you do it?" she found herself asking without any thought.
"Do what?"
"Why did you sleep with what's her name with the spindly legs at the LDB event?" Rory's voice started to rise along with her temper and anxiety.
"What?" Logan stared back at her blankly.
"Oh, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about," she said scornfully. "We were on the phone and you told me how she was unbuttoning your shirt. It was beyond insensitive, Logan. I'm sure you were sounding your stupid yawp all night long." Rory made a face to convey her utter disgust.
Clarity dawned on Logan clear as day. Ace thought he'd slept with Alexa! He almost laughed from the sheer relief of finally figuring out what was bothering her. "Ace, I didn't sleep with Alexa. Nothing happened. Nor did I want anything to happen."
"Alexa? There's an Alexa? There really should be a Jeopardy category," Rory muttered under her breath, in shock at this sudden turn of events.
"What?"
Rory shook her head. "Nothing. Nevermind." She searched Logan's face for any sign of deception. "But what about the buttons?"
"Ace, nothing happened. Forget about buttons or Alexa or anything else."
Rory looked at Logan with new eyes. There was a lot that still had to be said between them, but it felt good to not hate him anymore. It had pained her to be so angry with him. The past two weeks that Logan was not in her life had been practically unbearable. "I'm sorry I called you all those names," she murmured sheepishly.
Logan grinned. "No need to apologize, Ace. Jealousy becomes you. And I must say that 'callous, amoral, manwhore pig' is right up there with 'buttfaced miscreant.' I like your creativity."
"I wasn't jealous," Rory replied stubbornly. "Get over yourself, Huntzberger. I was just miffed at your total lack of sensitivity, that's all."
Logan merely laughed. Ace was so transparent. "Oh, just admit it, Ace, you hate the idea of me being with other girls."
They both went still.
The moment the words left his lips, Logan fervently wished he could take them back. He mentally cursed his own stupidity.
Rory's expression was unreadable in the moonlight and shadows. A part of him just wanted to grab her and kiss her senseless. But he held back, instinctively knowing that she would just push him away. Yet he couldn't not touch her. Logan reached out and slowly started rubbing her upper arm.
His caress was so familiar and reassuring that Rory almost let herself believe that everything between them was alright. If only. Sighing, she pulled away ever so slightly. Logan let his hand drop back to his side. She knew that Logan was waiting for her to say something. Rory took a deep, measuring breath and looked up at him. "Remember the night of my grandparents' vow renewal ceremony?"
"Of course," despite feeling increasingly edgy, Logan couldn't help but smile. "What guy can ever forget having his life threatened for kissing the best man? But I assure you, it was well worth it."
Rory shot him a chastising look. "Don't even get all charming on me right now, mister."
"Can't help it, Ace. It's like breathing." Logan shrugged and smiled disarmingly.
Rory forced herself not to think about how adorable Logan and his dimples were. She could still feel the warmth of his touch on her arm. Somehow she found herself asking the question that had been plaguing her these last few weeks. "You said you weren't 'that guy.' Why aren't you, Logan? I just…I just need to know."
Logan was taken aback by her directness. Suddenly feeling the need for a drink, he looked around as if one would magically appear before him. Sighing, he took a step forward so that he could see her face more clearly. The image of Ace in that dressing room with the champagne bottle flashed before him. Her expression now was as it was then. In her eyes he could see a mixture of the need to be wanted, a curiosity about the unknown, fear of rejection, a yearning for something thrilling to happen, and an innocent boldness. Those eyes of hers tugged at his heart. Logan knew what she wanted, but he wasn't quite sure how to give it to her.
"Rory," he began as he unconsciously reached for her. His hands found her waist and grabbed a fistful of her sweater, bringing her dangerously close. Rory felt as if the world had stopped turning and everything but Logan ceased to exist. She waited with bated breath for whatever it was Logan was about to say.
"The truth is that I don't know why I'm not 'that guy.' I've just never wanted to be. And it's not like I've suffered some emotional trauma. There's been no agonizing heartbreak. No girl dumped me and led me to swear never to fall in love." Logan shrugged, wishing he could explain it in a way that could be understood, especially since he never tried to understand it himself. Ace was looking at him so intently that he felt compelled to keep talking. "I guess I don't want to be expected to behave a certain way. I don't want to be expected to check in, or not party with my friends, or to always be available, or to be everything that's expected of a good boyfriend." His brown eyes pleaded for understanding. "Is this making any sense to you, Ace?"
Rory nodded solemnly. H was making perfect sense. Almost against her will, she began to understand his point of view. He didn't want the responsibility of a relationship...at least not with her. "I see. So you're basically giving me the old 'it's not you, it's me' speech. I'm sure you've perfected it over the years." A hint of bitterness laced her words.
Frustrated, Logan shook his head. "No, that's not it at all, Rory."
"Then what is it, Logan?" Rory shivered slightly as the cold night air seeped through to her skin. Logan automatically began to rub her arms in long, soothing strokes. "There were times when I felt that you wanted to be with me, and only me. Even now, the way you look at me and touch me..." her voice trailed off softly. "Am I just imagining things, or are you just that good at making someone feel like the most special person in the world?"
"Ace, when we were on that dance floor I told you that you were special and I meant it. At the time, I deliberately kept myself from asking you out, because I knew that we'd inevitably get to this moment. And then you sort of forced the issue. You were so beautiful and funny and alluring...how could any sane guy resist? But do you think for a second that I thought you were the 'no strings' type, even though you were doing your best 'girls just wanna have fun' impersonation? I'm right, aren't I?"
"What, you want a medal or something?" she remarked saucily.
He could hear the smile in her voice and was glad that she didn't seem to hate him. "Well, I'll settle for a plaque or maybe a trophy to add to my collection," he replied.
"So about those strings..." Rory prodded. They were close. So close. She knew that there was something between them. Something worth discovering and exploring together. If only she could get him to admit it, Rory genuinely believed the rest would fall into place despite his objections about being "that guy."
"Yeah, those darn strings..." Logan thought he was prepared to face his feelings for Ace, but now that the moment had come he wasn't quite sure how to handle it. He was afraid he'd just end up disappointing her. "I think I'd make a terrible boyfriend, Ace," he admitted candidly, almost regrettably.
"Well, that's perfect! It'll make dumping you so much easier." Rory smiled up at him. The dazed expression on his face put her on the verge of laughter. "Relax, Huntzberger, I don't want us to be joined at the hip or to turn into some obnoxious couple calling each other pumpkin and honey bunny."
Despite his doubts, Logan's lips curved into a heart-stopping smile. "You and your mom have a Tarantino marathon or something?"
"Just last week, actually. You're lucky I didn't go all Kill Bill on you, you know. I'd make a superb Deadly Viper Assassin."
"Is that right?" Logan murmured huskily, his mouth mere inches from hers. "I'm surprised you didn't bring out The Gimp."
Rory braced her hands on Logan's chest to steady herself. "Ah well, why send The Gimp out to do a woman's job." She thought she'd die from the sheer nearness of him. Her lips parted slightly in anticipation of his kiss.
"Excellent point." Logan moved ever closer. Instead of kissing her, however, he tenderly cupped her face in his hands and looked deep into her blue blue eyes. "What is it that you see in me, Ace?"
