"If my life were a movie," She mutters to herself squinting out the windshield at the exit sign in front of her and sighing as she realizes that she has no idea where she is or, in fact, how to get home; or back where she came from, come to think of it. Keep going straight ahead, I guess. I'm bound to bump into something. "If my life were a movie," She continues, sighing deeply. "Right about now, I would be making this really spiffy mental list of all the things that are really terrible about my existence. Like, for instance, the fact that I stole my ex-boyfriend's car, and that the only thing keeping the curious passerby from seeing me clad only in a flimsy white sheet is this Red Sox sweatshirt that I found in the backseat, and also that despite all my other far more evident criminal offences like the stealing, and the practically being naked while driving and oh, not to mention shoelessness, my father would disown me for being near this sweatshirt, let alone wearing it." Speeding up as she sees yet another sign, she sighs as she realizes that the destinations are as foreign to her as if they were on another planet. Mars? Ha ha. "If my life were a movie," She continues on, biting down harder on her lip and glancing in the rearview. There's practically no one on the road. She hasn't decided whether that's a good or bad thing yet. "Like right about now, my affable best friend like character would magically materialize next to me, out of sheer will and determination on my part." She quickly glances to the passenger seat, but when Wallace doesn't appear, she mutters "figures," under her breath before speeding up again to glance at yet another unfamiliar set of cities on the sign overhead. Out of nowhere, she hears the faint, tinny sounds of a cell phone, and reaching into the console, feels around for it. Nothing. "I think I'm losing my mind. Of course, considering I'm talking to myself now, sitting in a stolen car, and going home half naked and shoeless, I'm thinking that crazy is probably an understatement." The tone sounds again, and this time she's sure she heard it. Her fingers dig deeper through the mess of the console until her fingers clasp around the offending cell. "Hello?" She answers finally, partly because she's sick of having only herself to talk to, and partly because she's lost, cold and, she realizes, hungry.
"And to think, I thought this was my cell phone." Oh no. Logan. His voice doesn't sound too angry, but he's got one of those impenetrable shields that's been hiding hurt and torture for years. She used to be able to hear through it, could always tell if something was wrong, but he stopped letting her in around the time she stopped trying to get there. She tries to tell herself that there really isn't anything beneath the veneer, but while she can fool other people into believing that, she's never been too great at fooling herself.
"Did you plant it?" The second the words are out of her mouth, she regrets them. She's got to stop accusing him of everything. She's getting the distinct feeling he thinks she left because of him, and if she could spare the charity, she would set him straight.
"How did you know?" Inwardly sighing, she flips the turn signal, merging from right to left because it gives her something to do. The faux cheerfulness in his tone is a sure tip-off that he's not too happy with her, but that was to be expected.
"Lucky guess," She mutters, squinting in pain as a beam of sunlight hits her directly in the eyes. That list is getting pretty damn long.
"Yes, Veronica. Because instinctively I knew I would be going to Dick and Beaver's, anticipated your need to toss your cookies on not one but 3 national landmarks, and could have in my wildest dreams, cooked up everything that happened this morning. Then of course I expected that you would run at the first sign of real intimacy, and while I was getting condoms, I was really planting my cell phone in the car so I could call you later and make you feel guilty." Ouch. His sarcasm stings, but what hurts more is that under different circumstances, she probably would have accused him of something exactly like that. There's a list out there of things she has to make up to people. Stop accusing Logan of things he didn't do is right there at the top with, be more truthful to dad, and take Backup on more runs at Dog Beach while the weather is still this gorgeous. Sighing, she has to admit he has a point, although she'd never really doubted that in the first place.
"There was definitely a little disappearing act on your part, though," She mutters, speeding up again, and finally spotting one name she recognizes: San Diego, 75 miles. Exit 118. Thank God.
"Oh, my dear. I would so not be talking about disappearing acts right about now, considering you're in, and I'm assuming driving stolen property and are clad in only a sheet." Zing. 2 more points for Logan. Dammit.
"I'm sorry, Okay, Logan? It…it just got too intense for me. I had to get out of there." When in doubt, lie, lie, lie.
"Hmm, I'm sorry Ms. Mars, you've used that excuse already." This is true, she realizes, and sighs again, shifting the phone to the crook of her neck so she can have both hands on the wheel.
"Have I told you that this car drives like a dream, Echolls?" She asks, hoping he'll let her off easy, and that in some way shape or form they can get past this. Whatever this is.
"Did you know you're terrible at segues?" He asks dryly, and though she doesn't want to, she has to laugh.
"But it does. For a stolen car, it's pretty damn passable. But y'know, normally I go for things of a somewhat higher caliber. You know, BMWs, Mercedes, Mini Coopers…now there's a mighty fine getaway car. But an X-Terra, and a canary yellow one at that? Not exactly what would be my first choice." He laughs, and the low sound sends shivers through her. This is why I shouldn't be around Logan Echolls. He affects me way too much.
"Why did you leave, Veronica?" She can picture his movements, from the languid way he's sitting, leaning languorously against the bathroom door, settled comfortably on the rug, his features amused, but his eyes sad and guarded.
"Did you think I wouldn't remember? After last night, after what you saw and what you did for me…how could you honestly have wanted me to stay?" She pictures the surprise on his face. His features molding themselves into his game face, giving nothing away.
"Veronica…nothing that happened yesterday would change-"
"Would change what, Logan?" She's laughing scornfully now, surprised that she has to blink tears from her eyes. "How you ever thought that we could actually have a normal functioning relationship after everything…"
"Veronica-"
"And the thing is, I let myself go along with it. I knew it wouldn't work, couldn't work, but I let you think it could. Because I so wanted it to." The tears are streaming down her cheeks now, and she doesn't bother wiping them away.
"Veronica, I love you." She sniffs loudly, and can't help laughing through it.
"You don't love me, Logan. A few kisses after trying to feel me up in the back of your truck is not love. It's stupidity." She hears his sharp intake of breath, and honestly, didn't mean for the words to tumble out, but now that they have, she's kind of glad. The further away from her he is, the better off. She doesn't need to wreck someone else's life.
"You don't really think that." His voice isn't as soft as she'd expected it to be. It's not hard either, but steady and constant, two words she'd have never associated with him before, but that have lately fit perfectly.
"I do, Logan. I really do." Her voice breaks at the end, and a fresh flood of tears streams down her cheeks. Taking a hand from the wheel, she wipes her tears away with her fingers, praying that he can't hear her.
"Is this because of Duncan?" He asks, and even though she'd been expecting it, the question still catches her off guard. Why should it though? Duncan is the catalyst to this whole mess. I could say yes. Make it an easy break. Maybe then it won't hurt as-
"I-"
"I can hear you thinking, Veronica. If not Duncan, then what? Is it me? Tell me it's me and I'll-well, Okay, maybe I won't leave you alone," She laughs out loud at that, sniffling and wiping her tears along the way. "But I'll pretend to." She nods, belatedly realizing that he can't see her. Another sign reading SAN DIEGO appears before her, and she's never been so relieved in her entire life. "So c'mon, do it. Tell me you don't love me." She sighs, as she alternates shoulders for the phone to rest on as she merges from lane to lane again, getting as close to the San Diego exit ramp as she possibly can, even though it isn't for at least another 5 miles.
"I don't love you." She murmurs. Her voice is low, but straightforward, and her hands are clamped so tight on the steering wheel that her knuckles are turning white.
"Liar." He breathes, and she clicks off the phone, throwing it back into the console before erupting into a flood of tears. Pressing her hand to her face to keep the tears in, she signals into the breakdown lane, and pulls over, resting her head against the steering wheel and letting her tears flow. It isn't until there's a knock on the X-Terra's window that she stops, wiping her face with her hand, and swallowing before she turns to look. Logan stands there, strong and unflappable in his gray cotton sweatpants, his hair ruffling in the wind. As their eyes lock, the tears fill her eyes again, and though she tries to blink them away, they persistently fall. Fumbling clumsily to unlock the car door, she's out in less than a minute, and already catapulting herself into his arms before the door has closed behind her. She sobs softly into his shoulder.
"Thank God." She whispers, just before tugging him to her and brushing her lips with hers. She's never been so glad to see someone in her entire life.