"I'm so glad we're doing this," Stephanie said as she placed the bottle of vodka in the freezer and made her way back to the kitchen island where Rory sat with their drinks.
Rory swung her tight clad limbs, the heals of her ankle booties clanking against the metal legs of the bar stool. "Sure," she said, staring down into the depths of the vodka cranberry in her hand.
"Wow, the enthusiasm," Steph teased. "I feel so loved."
"No!" Rory looked up, her eyes almost panicked. "I mean, I'm happy we're hanging out."
Stephanie laughed, though in all honesty, she hated that the girl was still so quick to frighten, so desperate to please, so easily triggered. Not that she didn't have every reason to be, given all the things going on in her life. But Stephanie wanted her to know that she wasn't one of the things she needed to worry about. "Relax," she instructed her friend. "I was just joking."
Rory sighed, her shoulders slumping as her gaze once more drifted to the drink in front of her. "I'm sorry," she said, "I just…I just can't shake the feeling that this is a bad idea."
"We don't have to go if you don't want to," Steph suggested. As much as she was looking forward to a night out with the whole gang, she realized Rory might need to take things a little more slowly. She didn't want to push her into situations she wasn't ready for. "We could stay here. Or go to a movie or something instead."
"No," Rory shook her head. "I want to go. I just…"
"Just what?"
Rory pulled her lower lip between her teeth, gnawing nervously for a moment before setting her drink down and looking up. "It's just, I'm the kind of girl who follows the rules. I don't just do what I want to do. I do the smart thing, the appropriate thing, the safe thing. And this…this isn't safe or smart."
Steph stared at her silently for a moment, her eyes drifting up and down the length of the girl in front of her. On the surface, it would seem like Rory's assessment of herself was correct. She was dressed in a fitting, but not too tight, black scoop neck tee covered by a cute, leather moto jacket; her burgundy, button down corduroy skirt fell to midthigh, but rather than leaving her legs totally bare, they were adorned with semi-sheer black stockings; her naturally colored auburn hair fell in waves just past her shoulder with long, fringy bangs framing her face in a perfect 'girl next door' style. She was exactly who she was supposed to be; just sexy enough for a club, but demure enough to still keep that innocent girl façade.
But Stephanie had learned enough during the short time they had been friends to know that it was just that…a façade. One potent enough to fool even Rory. Deep down, there was a rebel, a fighter, just waiting to break free. "Is that really what you think of yourself?"
She shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. "It's what I know."
"Really?" Stephanie prodded. "Because I see a girl who had a year-long secret affair with her boss…"
Rory scoffed. "Right, because that's supposed to convince me I can pull off the 'no rules' thing?"
"And," Stephanie added, emphasizing the fact that she wasn't done with her previous statement, "had the strength to walk away from him despite a year of subtle abuse and grooming meant to break you down and tear you apart. But you didn't break, Rory. You're here, a little bruised maybe, but whole."
"I let him manipulate me for over a year, Steph." She shook her head forlornly. "Fifteen months. I did what he said, I followed the rules he set out, I let him control me. I didn't even realize he'd put me in a gilded cage. I didn't even question it until Logan came along. Because that's what I do. I follow the rules until a guy comes along. I get that from my mother, I guess. She pointed that out the first time I almost threw my life away for a boy; when I wanted to pass up the opportunity to go to one of the best private schools on the east coast so I could stay in Stars Hollow and swoon over the cute new guy. He didn't even have a motorcycle."
"Motorcycles are overrated," Stephanie dismissed. "I mean seriously…the helmet hair?"
"This isn't funny!" Rory snapped, banging her glass down on the granite countertop.
"No," Stephanie shook her head in agreement. "It's not. It's not funny that you give yourself so little credit. You didn't throw your life away; you're taking it back. And you didn't do it for Logan, you did it for you."
Rory swiveled on her stool to face Stephanie dead on. "Did I?" she asked pointedly? "Did I really? Because I said I would marry him even though I didn't want to, and it wasn't until Logan showed up and found us that I finally walked away. And then…" Rory closed her eyes, pushing back a wave of emotion that Stephanie could see bubbling just below the surface. Steph reached out, placing her hand over Rory's on the countertop and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I almost took him back," Rory said, letting her eyelids flit open. "I haven't told anyone that," she admitted, a single tear rolling down her cheek.
"You can tell me," Steph assured her. "If you want to, that is."
Rory turned away again, taking another sip of her drink. "He cornered me, one day in the breakroom at work," she finally admitted. "He was pleading with me, telling me how much he loved me, that he'd do whatever it took…he'd get help." Rory exhaled, pausing for a moment. "I was so close, Steph. So close to giving him another chance; to letting him convince me he could change. And then he mentioned Logan, and I thought…how could I ever be with a man who would treat his own son that way? I didn't even care about the way he treated me. So, tell me again that I did it for me."
"You did it for you," Steph asserted. "Because you're the kind of person who cares how others are treated. Because you knew you deserved better than a man that callous and cruel. You did it for you."
"I just…" Rory traced her finger along the lip of her glass, spreading the moisture dewing on the outside. "I can't help but feel like I'm falling right back into my old patterns; doing something stupid for the sake of a guy. And it's not like I don't know it's going to end badly. There's no future for me and Logan. How could there be? I ruined that chance before I even knew him. So yeah, going out tonight is a bad idea, even without the tail, and the angry ex, and the being in the middle of a real-life freaking spy novel. But god, I want to go."
The truth was Rory wasn't wrong. Not entirely. Mitchum was still out there, lurking around, making trouble. And she wasn't wrong about Logan either, she knew they both had feelings—strong ones. But she didn't see how even the strongest of feelings could overcome their past. Love wasn't always enough. Still, not doing what she wanted to do because of a guy wasn't any better than only doing it for a guy.
"Okay, how about this?" Stephanie suggested. "What if Logan called up right now and said something came up and he couldn't make it. Would you still want to go?"
Rory contemplated the question for a moment, sucking her lip between her teeth before nodding her head. "Yeah," she admitted. "I would."
"Okay than," Steph nodded in return. "We're going." She picked up her glass and tilted it towards Rory, waiting for her friend to do the same. Rory took her glass and hesitantly clinked it against Steph's before they both brought the drinks to their lips and swallowed their contents whole.
Anxiety pulsed through him in time with the beat of the electronic dance music as they pushed their way through the jam-packed floor. His uncomfortable emotional state could easily be explained by the fact that Jackson was meeting Finn's friends socially for the first time, or the fact that he was supposed to be making said friends believe their relationship was just a ruse, or by the fact that being in public with Logan could potentially tip Mitchum Huntzberger off to their association. But the truth was, all of those things were just a small fraction of the cause of his current angst. Honestly, he just really hated places like this. He never felt like he quite fit in. All the people, the noise, the smell of Axe body spray and sweat…it was suffocating.
He followed Finn to a door which led to a stairwell. Finn gave their names to the man standing guard and they made their way up a flight of steps, exiting into a moderately sized room with upholstered seating built into the wall, several bar tables, and a one-way mirror looking out over the rest of the club. Jackson wasn't sure if this was better or worse. One the one hand, it was quieter and less crowded. On the other, he was now going to be expected to actually converse with people. Plus, there was the whole VIP aspect; who the hell was he to be a VIP in this special room, literally looking down on everyone else?
"Jackson?" Jackson turned at the sound of the shocked voice speaking his name to see Logan standing a few feet away holding a tumbler full of amber liquid and staring at him discontentedly. Logan turned his gaze slightly to the left to look at Finn. "You brought Jackson?"
Finn shrugged lazily. "We're supposed to be dating, aren't we?" he explained. "At some point it's expected that the significant other meet the friends." Finn slung his arm around Jackson's shoulder pulling him into his side and giving his arm a squeeze. "Isn't that right, Darling?" He shot Jackson a wink and one of those sexy half smirks. Jackson felt his stomach flutter. There was just something about that smirk that could always make him smile no matter how stressed out he was.
"I'm sorry," Jackson said to Logan. "I should have given you a heads up. I just figured, you know, like he said," he nodded to Finn whose hand had moved from Jackson's arm and somehow managed to find its way to his hip, "At some point it was expected."
"Right," Logan nodded, his face completely expressionless but for the slight twitch of his jaw muscle. "I guess I just…didn't realize that point was now."
"It's alright that I'm here, isn't it?" Jackson asked. Finn's hand was sliding its way off his hip, trying to find the opening to his back pocket. Jackson shrugged him off even though the truth was, Finn's touch might be the only thing keeping him from having a complete panic attack. As though just being here wasn't terrifying enough, the greeting he was currently receiving was hardly helping matters.
"Yeah, of course," Logan replied, his jaw tic intensifying as he swirled the liquid around in his glass. "The more the merrier. I umm, I just…" he reached for his phone in his pocket as he started backing away, "need to go…" he pointed in a vague direction behind him, "…take care of something. But have a great time."
"Soooooo, that was fun," Jackson snarked once Logan was out of ear shot. He could still see him across the room, fiddling with his phone, his fingers stalling over the screen. "The mutual admiration is clear. I think by next weekend we'll be braiding each other's hair and trading clothes."
"Well, you could certainly rock that Hugo Boss blazer like a boss," Finn placated. Jackson glared at him. Finn rolled his eyes. "I'm sure it's not personal. He's probably just worried about the story. I'll go talk to him."
He started to walk away but Jackson grabbed him by the sleeve pulling him back. "No! God, are you insane? Nothing screams boyfriend louder than you fighting my battles for me. I just…" Jackson scrubbed his face in frustration. "Maybe we should go get a drink then start with some of your other friends."
"Right," Finn agreed. They made their way to the bar and ordered; a whiskey sour for Jackson and a scotch on the rocks for Finn. Once they had their drinks in hand, Finn's eyes scanned the group in the room, trying to figure out where to go. "Ahh, here we are…" his gaze landed on a table where a guy in a tweed jacket over a sweater vest was with a tall, skinny blonde and a still skinny, but slightly curvier red headed girl.
"Okay," Jackson took a sip of his drink, steeling himself for the meet. "Are we…?"
"Are we what?"
"Are we, like…a couple? I mean, they think we're a real couple, right?"
"Relax," Finn shook his head in mild amusement. "Just act natural."
"There is nothing about this situation and me that is in any way natural. A small game night with fellow former members of the NYU debate team and a pitcher of margaritas…that's natural. Clubbing with Manhattan's elite party people while pretending that I'm pretending that my boyfriend is my boyfriend, not so much."
Finn reached both his hands up, cupping them to cradle Jackson's face, his thumbs gently caressing along his jawline. Jackson melted into the touch. "They're just people," Finn assured him. "And we can act like a couple."
Jackson nodded. "Okay," he agreed reluctantly. Finn removed his hands from Jackson's face, pressing his right palm into Jackson's left and entangling their fingers as he led him the rest of the way to the table.
"Colin, me 'ol cobber, they let you into this place with that ridiculous get up?" Finn said as they approached the table.
"This from the man who painted his nails black for all of junior year," his friend deadpanned.
"Black is slimming," Finn defended. "And I still enjoy a nice manicure." He set his drink down and held up his hand to show off his neatly trimmed nails with a coat of clear polish on them before turning his attention to the ladies at the table.
"You Loves, look delectable, let me see…" He took the hand of the blonde, holding it above her head and watching her spin, then he reached for the redhead's hand.
"Finny," she whined with a playful roll of her eyes, but she held out her hand and complied, spinning around for him to see.
"Stunning," he affirmed. Jackson tried to push down the pit of jealousy blooming within him. Finn was a flirt, it was just what he did; it didn't mean anything.
"You're not looking too shabby yourself," the redhead replied, running a hand down the front of Finn's chest. The pit grew deeper.
Jackson cleared his throat and Finn's arm immediately went around his waist, drawing him closer. "Guys, this is Jackson," he finally introduced. "Jackson, this is Colin, Juliet and Rosemary." Rosemary, that was the name of the pretty girl who was touching his boyfriend. Good to know.
"So, you're Jackson," Rosemary said, looking him up and down. "Cute." She turned to give her friend a knowing look. "He's cute, don't you think?"
"The cutest," Juliet replied, then after a pause added, "Though not Finn's usual type."
Jackson narrowed his eyes, affronted. "What's that supposed to mean?" He looked at his boyfriend.
"Ignore them," Finn rolled his eyes. "I don't have a type."
"Well, you were really into artists for a while," Colin pointed out. "With that annoying boho vibe. You know, the whole emaciated and dressed in secondhand clothes because they can't afford to feed or dress themselves look. I hated that phase."
"Jackson is an artist," Finn pointed out. "He's a writer."
"You were also really into redheads if I remember correctly," Juliet added, looking at Finn with an arched brow before turning her gaze knowingly to Rosemary.
Anger and irritation were starting to fill the pit that had formed when they'd first arrived at the table. He wouldn't have…would he? Jackson turned a questioning gaze on his boyfriend, but Finn was busy looking at the others.
"Only on women," he replied exasperatedly. "Jeez."
"Well, you were only on women for a while if I recall correctly," Rosemary replied with a devious smile.
Oh god, he totally had. He'd brought him to a table with one of his exes. His stomach churned painfully. "I'm uh…I'm gonna…go get a drink," Jackson said as he backed away from the table.
Finn looked at him with a furrowed brow. "You've barely touched the one you had."
"Well, I want something else," Jackson snapped, extracting himself from Finn's arm wrapped around his waist. He turned and stomped off.
"The bar's the other way," Colin called after him.
"Somebody's in trouble," he heard one of the girls sing-song behind him.
Jackson needed air, though he wasn't sure where the hell in this club that was a possibility. He pushed his way out of the VIP room onto the landing of the stairwell. He took advantage of the moment of solitude to fall back against the wall, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. The moment didn't last long as the door once again opened and Finn made his way out.
"Jackson?" he said cautiously. Jackson opened his eyes and sent him a glare. "Come on, it's not that big of a deal," Finn contended.
"You've slept with her?" It came out as a question, though Jackson knew the answer.
"Yeah."
"And you didn't think to, oh, I don't know…give me a heads up or something?"
Finn shrugged. "It was back in college, eons ago. It's not a big deal." Why did he keep saying that?
"It's a big deal to me."
"If we have to avoid every person I've ever had sex with, we might not be able to leave my apartment," Finn replied, half joking.
Jackson didn't laugh. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"I don't know what you want me to say," Finn shook his head. "I have a past. A colorful one. You can't tell me you're surprised by that?"
"Well, no, but that doesn't mean I expected to have to have a conversation with it tonight."
"Rosemary is a friend," Finn argued, taking a tentative step closer. "And yeah, we had a bit of a friends with benefits thing going on years ago. But that's all it was. We were never together together. Honestly, I've never been together with anyone that way before…" he took another step closer, reaching a hand out to tilt Jackson's head up to look at him. "Until now."
The smell of him, the feel, the look in his eyes…it was all so intoxicating. And Jackson wanted to allow himself to just melt into him; to take him at his word…that he was special and that Rosemary and every other person who came before him didn't matter. But he couldn't. Because the truth was, Finn had just confirmed what Jackson was afraid of. He'd never been in a real relationship before. And Jackson didn't see how he could possibly be the one to give Finn everything he wanted.
"She's pretty," he said.
"I guess," Finn replied dismissively, tracing a thumb down Jackson's throat. Jackson's head tilted backwards at the sensation. He had to remain strong. Finn couldn't just seduce his way out of this one.
"Nice rack," Jackson noted, his words were coming out soft and breathy despite himself.
"You were checking out her rack?" Finn asked with a chuckle.
"No, but you were."
"Ahh," Finn finally took a step back. "So that's what this is about."
"What?"
"You said you didn't have a problem with my sexuality."
"I don't…" He paused, his face crinkling guiltily. "In theory."
"In theory?" Finn repeated, clearly affronted. "What the hell does that mean?"
"I mean…I don't judge you for it…"
"Well gee, thanks." Finn rolled his eyes in annoyance.
"Look, it's one thing when we were going to keep things professional. Or even when we were just fooling around. But things are starting to get serious now…at least they are for me."
"And I'm still just fooling around?"
"No, but you said it yourself," Jackson argued. "You've never been in a monogamous relationship before. And you clearly have…desires I can't fulfill."
"Like boobs?" Finn asked sardonically.
"Among…other attributes." Jackson concurred.
"And you think that means I can't be faithful to you…because you don't have tits and a pussy?"
Jackson cringed. "That's not exactly…" he took a deep breath. "I just don't want you to settle."
"Are you settling for me?"
"What? No, of course not." Finn was the opposite of settling.
"Even though I can't possibly have every single attribute you ever fantasized about?"
"That's not the same thing."
"Isn't it? Because you can't expect me to believe that you're never going to find yourself attracted to someone who isn't me. Maybe someone more serious, or more ambitious, or more gay. And why are those traits any different than the physical ones? If anything, personality traits are more important."
"That's not…it's just different."
"Why?" Finn asked, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
"Because!" Jackson yelled back. "Because you are so far out my league, I can't even believe this is real some days."
Finn let out an amused snort, his shoulders relaxing and that annoyingly cocky smile finding its way back on to his face.
"It's not funny."
"It's not funny that you…rising star, future Pulitzer Prize winner, and man who actually has his shit together, thinks I'm out of his league?"
Jackson felt the heat rise to his cheeks. "You don't know that I'm going to win a Pulitzer."
Finn smiled, a more sincere smile this time. "How about we both just admit we're pretty great. And we're pretty great together."
Jackson shrugged a single shoulder, pulling his lip between his teeth bashfully. "I guess I could do that."
"Great." Finn leaned in to press his lips to Jackson's, their mouths melding together seamlessly until the sound of footsteps on the stairwell pulled them apart. A moment later a familiar looking brunette girl appeared with another woman by her side.
"Rory?"
"Jackson?"
"Love!" Finn replied gleefully, heading over to give Rory a hug.
"What am I? Chopped liver?" the other girl asked.
"I saw you two days ago," Finn poopooed, waving his hand dismissively. "I haven't seen this one in eons."
Rory was just standing there stiffly despite Finn's exuberant greeting. "I, umm, I didn't know you were going to be here," Rory said, talking past Finn to Jackson.
"I could say the same."
"Stephanie invited me out," she said, pointing to the blonde woman.
Jackson raised his eyebrows skeptically. "So, Logan doesn't know you're coming?" Rory didn't answer, just looked down at her shoes. "And you didn't know he would be here?"
She sighed, picking at her cuticles. "I…"
"Rory, you need to be careful," he scolded gently, trying to ignore the feelings of hypocrisy bubbling up inside him.
"We didn't mean to interrupt," was all she said. "We'll get out of your way." She pointed to the door, then turned and walked through it.
"I'm definitely never going to win a Pulitzer if those two have anything to say about it," Jackson groaned, collapsing back against the wall.
"Look at it this way," Finn replied optimistically, "At least we know why Logan was less than welcoming when you got here. Now…" he said, starting to stalk towards Jackson once more. "Where were we?"
"Whiskey sour," Jackson ordered. They'd been there for a bit and he was at least starting to feel confident enough to leave Finn's side to get a drink on his own, though Jackson was still far from comfortable in the small crowd. It didn't help that he was trying to avoid both Logan and Rory now. Between the alcohol and his frustration at their antics, he was sure he'd say something he'd regret…particularly to Rory who he still needed to cooperate, and hopefully agree to go on the record. She needed to be able to trust him and him lecturing her was probably not the best way to achieve that goal.
"Scotch neat." Jackson turned to the sound of the familiar voice and tried not to groan. So much for avoidance.
"Hey," Logan greeted him, resting his elbow against the bar and reclining lazily into it.
"Hi," Jackson replied.
"Listen, about…" his eyes scanned the room, landing on Rory, "you know…"
Jackson didn't answer, just arched an eyebrow, waiting for him to go on.
"I know you think it was stupid, and you're probably right, it's just, she needed this."
"She needed it?" Jackson asked pointedly. While he didn't doubt that part of Logan's goal in asking her to come out with them involved cheering her up, he highly doubted his motives were entirely selfless.
"She's friends with some of these people too. She should be allowed to go out and have a good time with her friends."
"Of course she should," Jackson agreed. "And I want that for her…and for all the other women who have been harassed and abused by your father and Peterson and all the other creeps out there just like them. She shouldn't have to alter her behavior to compensate for those pieces of crap. But unfortunately, that's not the world we live in right now. And the only way we get to that world is by making sure that men like them see accountability for their actions. And in order for that to happen, we need to be extremely careful. So maybe it's not fair, but it's the way it's gotta be right now."
"I just…"
"You care about her."
"We're friends," Logan insisted. Jackson held back an eye roll. He wasn't even going to pretend to understand whatever warped relationship they had, but he knew it wasn't friends. But that wasn't his business. His business was making sure whatever was going on between them didn't torpedo the whole story. That's why Logan had handed this off to him in the first place, because he needed someone impartial.
"I get that it's hard to see her struggle, but if you're really her friend, you'll look at what's best for her long term. And that's doing whatever it takes to expose your father and take away his power to keep hurting her."
Logan nodded succinctly. "And you're putting the investigation first?" he asked. "Not letting anything personal get in the way on your end?"
Jackson cringed. The hypocrisy he felt earlier was making a comeback. "This story is my number one priority right now," he defended.
"But not your only priority?"
"Excuse me?"
"Taking down Mitchum Huntzberger is a big priority for me, obviously. Huge. But despite all the ways he's hurt me and the people in my life, it's not my only one. And Rory isn't the only friend I have that I care about."
"I'm not sure I follow." Jackson was pretty sure he followed exactly.
"He seems happy," Logan observed, looking out over the room, his eyes landing on Finn who was having an animated conversation with Colin, their arms splaying out every which way as they spoke. "Not that Finn is ever not happy…except maybe anytime he's awake before noon."
Jackson had seen Finn quite happy before noon, but he felt it was probably best to keep that information to himself, even if Logan was implying what he was pretty sure he was implying.
"This is different though. More content. More grounded."
"That's...nice," Jackson replied, trying to keep his face stoic at the implication. His stomach was doing little summersaults.
"Anyway, I'm just saying, with all the crap going on right now, it's nice to see him happy. I'm happy for him." Logan turned back to face Jackson and shrugged. "Whatever the reason is."
The air felt lighter than it had in a long time; less constricting. His limbs were tingling with a delightful numbness. He wasn't happy; not really. Logan wasn't even sure he knew what happiness felt like anymore. He could barely remember any times when he'd been happy, though he knew they'd existed. Maybe back in college?
Yet there was a jovial aspect to the insensate experience he was having; the ability to approximate a state of happiness, to pretend. He was sure the alcohol was playing a role in that. And there was the fact that he and Jackson had reached a tenuous peace despite neither of them being particularly pleased that the other was risking the entire plan for the sake of the personal.
And then there was Rory. He took a sip of his scotch as he watched her bouncing to the music, a smile on her flushed face, her arms swaying above her head. She'd started the evening off nervous and uncomfortable, but she clearly seemed to have gotten over that. He knew he shouldn't find this much pleasure in just watching her dance. He shouldn't have any interest in her at all. But no matter how hard he had tried the past few months, he couldn't seem to stop himself from caring. Maybe it was time he stopped trying to stop and just accepted that she would always have a piece of him. For better or worse, she'd changed his life irrevocably, and that left a mark on a person.
Finn spun her around a few times before she came staggering off the dance floor.
"I need a drink," she slurred, stumbling into the table.
"Yeah," he chuckled. "I'd say so…a water."
"What?! No. Water is for amateurs. I need alcohol. A martini. I like martinis."
"I've noticed." He smiled at her exuberance. But no way was he letting her get another martini.
"Or, oh! What was that drink you got me that one time?"
Logan's eyes narrowed in confusion, trying to remember what drink she could possibly be referring to. They'd had champagne service on occasion when she'd gone out with them, but he wasn't sure what else he had bought her to drink. "Which time?"
"That time…" she replied adamantly, as though that would explain it all. When he didn't answer she continued on. "When we first met," she clarified, "and you spilled my martini on me."
Ahh, yes, that time. He didn't have a chance to answer though, as Rory continued on. "Can I ask you a question?"
"You just did." She giggled at that even though it was the oldest, lamest reply in the book. But he was too drunk himself to come up with original witticisms, especially when the cliché ones seemed to be doing the trick anyway.
She leaned in close. "Did you spill my drink on purpose that night?"
A devilish smile curled up the corners of his lips. "Me?" he gasped in fake offense, throwing a hand over his chest. "Would I do such a thing?"
"Yes," she scoffed.
Logan nodded his head accordingly. "Yeah, I would totally do that."
"You did do that!" she pointed accusingly. "You spilled my drink on purpose. And then you stole my cherry!"
"Hey! You offered me your cherry," he reminded her.
"You know what I miss?" she asked.
"What?"
"You calling me 'Cherry.' Why don't you call me 'Cherry' anymore?"
"Umm, because it was offensive and inappropriate?" It came out as a question. He knew that was the reason but in his current state it didn't feel offensive and inappropriate. He missed the nickname too.
"Pssht," she waved away his concern. "Being appropriate is overrated. Have you seen Steph?"
"Steph?" Logan asked, trying to focus on her sudden change of topic.
"Mmmhmm," she nodded, her head bobbing unsteadily. "Blonde hair, blue eyes, about yay tall." She held her hand up at a distance from the ground that was nowhere near Steph's height, unless she was walking around on stilts.
"Not recently," Logan admitted.
"She's supposed to take me home, I think. Is it time to go home? What time is it?"
Logan looked at his watch. The hands were kind of blurry. "It's almost 2, I think," he admitted.
"Come on." She grabbed Logan's hand and pulled him up. He stumbled, his own less than sober state betraying him.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"To find Stephanie," she replied obviously.
"Did you check the bathroom?" he suggested.
"Umm, I checked this table."
"Well, she's not here."
"Duh."
"Did you just 'duh' me?" he laughed.
"Come on." She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the bathrooms on the other side of the room. She pushed open the door of the ladies' room, popping her head through the entrance and looking around. "Stephanie?" She pulled her head back out. "She's not in there," she informed him. "Check the other one."
"The other one?" Logan repeated.
"Uh huh."
"You think she's in the men's room?"
"I don't know. Maybe?"
"Okay," he shrugged checking inside the other bathroom only to find it empty. "She's not in there either."
Rory's brow furrowed in concern. "You don't think she left do you?" He eyes suddenly went wide. "Oh my god, what if she left me?"
"Why would she leave you?"
"I don't know," she pouted adorably, crossing her arms over her chest. "She's not here."
"Well, that doesn't mean she's gone. She's got to be around here somewhere." They made their way back to the main room, looking around again.
"Oooh, that's her bag," Rory pointed to a silver sequin purse hanging from the back of a chair. "Or…maybe it's my bag?"
"You don't remember what your bag looks like?" Logan laughed.
"Do you remember what your bag looks like?"
"I don't have a bag," he reminded her.
"Oh, right," she giggled, slapping her palm over her mouth.
"Okay, come on." He grabbed her hand and started dragging her across the room again.
"Logan, slow down," she said as she stumbled along after him.
"You slow down you, die."
"You go too fast in heals and you kind of die also," she warned him. "Where are we going?"
"Downstairs." He told her.
"But why?" He pushed open the door to the stairwell and pulled her through.
"To look for Stephanie."
"Why would she be downstairs?"
"I don't know," Logan shrugged, "because she's not upstairs?"
They entered back into the main floor of the club. The crowd had thinned out a little, given the late hour, but being that it was New York, things were still pretty hopping. They looked around for a few minutes, pushing their way through the crowd until they neared the entrance. "Ooh, maybe he knows," Rory said. She made her way over to the bouncer who was still manning the door.
"Excuse me sir, have you seen our friend?" she asked. "Blonde hair, blue eyes, about yay tall?" She held her hand way above her head again and Logan grabbed it and brought it down to a more appropriate level.
"Well, that narrows it down," the man replied drily.
"Way to be helpful," Rory snarked.
The bouncer rolled his eyes. "Check the alley," he relented.
"Come on," She told Logan then turned to the bouncer. "We'll be right back!" She wagged a finger like a mother telling her kids not to make trouble for the babysitter. Rory and Logan both giggled as they tottered out onto the street, looking both ways before going in the direction the bouncer had pointed.
They snuck down the street to the corner. Logan peaked around, looking down the alley, then pulled back. "Found her," he sing-songed gleefully. As though there were any other reason she would have purposefully disappeared down an alleyway in the middle of the night.
"Where?" Rory peaked her head around too. "Damn!"
"How is she not freezing?" Logan asked.
"I'd guess that hottie is keeping her pretty warm with his hotness." Rory giggled. "Go Stephanie."
"We should probably give them some privacy," Logan suggested.
"Yeah," Rory agreed, starting back towards the club. She faltered, her heal slipping out from beneath her. Logan caught her before she could fall.
"Woah there, Cherry," he chuckled as he helped her regain her balance. But even once she was standing again, she didn't move from his grasp. Their bodies were touching, their faces inches apart.
"You called me Cherry."
"I guess I did." He smiled down at her. It had just felt right.
"You have a nice smile," she told him, staring back at him.
"I do, do I?" His heart was beating a little faster in his chest at her compliment.
"Mmm, good teeth…Beautiful lips." She reached up, caressing her thumb over his mouth. "Soft."
"Must be the Chapstick," he whispered huskily.
She pushed up on her tiptoes and the next thing he knew, his soft lips were sliding against hers.