There were only two weeks left. The days were ending too soon, and every moment was desperately filled with something so that time wouldn't be wasted. Veronica could feel the end of summer, and no matter what she did the shaky feeling in her stomach wouldn't subside. She sat on the beach, sand coating the backs of her calves in a fine layer. She felt like a chicken someone had breaded, and now she was going to be fried in the hot sun. Her stomach growled and she knew her choice of simile hadn't been accidental. She wondered if she had enough time to head back to her apartment and make herself a sandwich. Peanut butter and banana, ham and cheese, turkey and mustard, BLT. She knew that she was just keeping her mind busy so it wouldn't wander. He was late. Exactly thirty-two minutes late. She would try to not look at her watch, because she knew if she did the seconds would drag on forever and she would psych herself out. She just couldn't help but look at her wrist and tally up how many valuable minutes she had spent sitting on the hot beach.

Twenty minutes, she promised herself. If he wasn't there in twenty minutes then she would leave. But somehow twenty minutes passed tediously while she cursed herself for wasting valuable time. Her insides ached in a way that had become too familiar to her the past year, and she could feel the anxiety in her bones. Sandwiches, she thought. That's a good topic. Sandwiches. I'll go home and take out some wonderbread, do we have any? Should I go to the store? What if something happened to him? What if he's hurt? What if- She cut herself off. She filtered the sand through her shaky fingers as she forced herself to not go through worst-case scenarios in her head.

She stood up and felt a familiar weight in her pocket. How could she have been so stupid? Of course! Her cell phone! She let out a deep breath, trying to release the tension she had been holding in. Sometimes she felt like she was losing her mind, forgetting the simplest things. She smirked a little at her own stupidity. Next she would leave her toothbrush in the freezer or something to that degree. He was on speed dial, number three.

Number one was her father because he liked to brag to his friends (all three of them) that his daughter called him everyday just to say hi. He didn't mention the fact that if she couldn't get hold of him she would start to hyperventilate. She tried to forget the afternoon where he had been stuck in an airport in Arizona, not allowed to leave the plane. She had had a-she hated the phrase-panic attack. Something about it made her feel paranoid and unstable, like she needed to be locked up somewhere. But she went through with her daily routine of checking up on her dad and every time she heard his voice she clamed down just a little.

Number two was Wallace because he was her BFFL and who else would she call to gossip about the bitchy new waitress at Java the Hut?

And Logan was number three. On his cell phone she was number one, and she pretended she had never noticed the disparity. She told herself it didn't really matter, because number two was Dick Casablancas, and on one memorable afternoon she had found out that his hairstylist was third on his speed dial.

The phone rang loudly into her ear. And it rang. And rang.

"You've reached Logan Echolls. Just remember, be the change you wish to see in the world. Beep."

"It's Veronica. You're kind of late, and I don't want to sound all stalkery possessive girlfriend on you, but where are you? Believe me, I don't want to activate the secret tracking device in your molar, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Call me ASAP before I go secret agent on your ass. I'll be at home."

Veronica picked up her messenger bag and wiped sand from her cargo shorts. Her shoulders were a little pink, and when the rough material of her bag rubbed against the bare skin they stung uncomfortably. She stretched out her arm behind her back and mentally prepared herself for the trek home. Walking sucked. It was too early in the morning to be mobile and now that her mid-morning coffee/brunch plans with Logan were off, she didn't have the required caffeine and protein to be awake. In reality the walk was a short one, but her legs felt like the sand dollar that was lying next to her big toe. One step and they'd shatter.

She lazily made her way home, pushing all thoughts to the back of her head and concentrating on just putting her feet down instead. Her flip-flops thunk-thunked against the pavement, and finally she was home.

As she flopped down on her sofa she could hear the scuffling above from the new neighbors moving in. A middle-aged couple with two cats, and from what Veronica could hear, extraordinarily mushy pet names for each other. So far Veronica had overheard through the ceiling; "cutie-pie", "sugar woogy", and "you asshole get me the hamburger helper from the store." Still they added a much needed touch of domesticity to the complex, especially now that Keith was gone so often. Veronica didn't want to think about that though.

A knock on the door resounded through the apartment. She rushed to the door and opened it, hope rising in her stomach.

"Logan?"

"Sorry I was late."

"I… I…"

Veronica's respiratory system mutinied and let out a small sniffle. She sighed.

"Logan, I didn't mean to freak out. It's very early and I could use a highly caffeinated beverage not lacking in the sugar. Can we go?"

"Of course."

They drank coffee and joked and fought a little, and Veronica relaxed. It was the end of summer, and everyone was a little touchy now right? Just a little while till summer was finally over and she could be calm again. School would start and she would be her fearless self again. Right?