Logan
Two hours into my union with Veronica and I've already messed up. Not too sure how, but something is wrong, I know it. The way she bolted from the building after we signed the papers. How she avoided my eye at the restaurant, keeping chatter focused on everyone else and not us. And when we were wished congratulations by the concierge when we checked into the Neptune Grande Hotel, she nodded and turned, beelining for the elevator.
We ride up to the top floor in agonizing silence and my brain fluctuates between cursing at myself for whatever I did and entertaining the briefest thought that I could easily make her forget whatever it is I did if she allowed me to get near her, naked. Because right now, with that short hair showing off the soft slope of her neck as she stands in front of me in this confined elevator space, all I can think of is how wonderful it would be to kiss her skin in a way that would make her gasp my name.
Of course, when I see her naked, she would see me naked too and right now, I'm not all that interested in trying to lie to her about the origins of the scars on my back. At least Aaron had the civility to put them in places where I didn't have to see them every day and torture me even more. But my partner will see them—something I found out with Lilly. I've spent my whole life hiding them in public under swim shirts and wet-suits, you'd think I had the sense to hide them in private. In my defence, when a hot naked girl pulls your shirt off in her bedroom, the thought of covering yourself doesn't really compute. I don't see myself convincing Veronica not to tell her father like I was able to persuade Lilly. And I have a suspicion that if I asked her to keep this secret, she'd leave me in a heartbeat, which is the last thing I want. Right now, I just need time…time to get to know her and figure this all out before she finds out what a fuck-up I really am.
The elevator pings and we come to a bouncing stop as the doors open to the hallway. This used to be the penthouses for the hotel, before the war, but no one could afford them during or after, so they were converted to smaller suites. You can tell by the odd offset of doors, placed in a non-linear fashion, that it had been retrofitted. I follow Veronica down the hall to the last door and she pauses, key-card in hand, and sighs before pushing the card in the slot and turning the handle. We enter a long hallway and I turn on the lights as she walks ahead into the oddly shaped sitting room set off to the right of the hall. She drops her bag on the leather couch and disappears from sight for a second as I make my way to join her.
"Your dad sure likes champagne," she states, picking up a large bottle from a silver bucket on the far end of the coffee table.
"He still acts like they have money, like the old days." I place my bag near hers and join her near the bucket, internally relieved she is talking to me at all. "But my mom still manages to be frugal and fabulous, so she makes it work. It's also why she's in charge of the budgets on their films."
"Oh, really…." She hands the bottle to me with a nod and I oblige her, pulling the foil from the cork and starting to unscrew the cage. "Tell me more about your family."
The scars on my back start to tingle and I remember they're there once more. Amazing what the brain does when conditioned to lie for so many years. When someone brings up my family, I need to go through the reminders. Don't tell her about the anger. Don't tell her about the screams. Don't tell her about the belt cutting your skin.
"What do you want to know?" Deflect. Pull the cork out of the champagne and quickly pour her a glass. I hope she gets drunk quickly and forgets to ask more personal questions.
Veronica raises her glass in a small gesture of a toast before taking a sip, blinking quickly as the bubbles rise and I chuckle, taking a sip from mine.
"They chose each other."
"Correct."
Stepping over to the couch, she flops onto the cushions near the end. I take her glance at the free spot near her as an invitation and do the same.
"I mean, I know they were both together and were spies during the war…"
"Point of correction…" I hold up my finger and stop her assumptions. "Let me clear up one thing that history and the press loves to cover up, my mother was a spy first. My father was with her and kept her secret, but it wasn't until he realized the government was going to finally topple that he started to help my mother when the risks were minimal if he was caught. They got married a few months after the war was declared over."
Okay. Maybe a little too much truth, but there was no way I was going to let her think Aaron was a prince among men.
"Interesting," she says, finishing her champagne in one long sip. Tilting her empty glass towards me, her eyes narrow as she speaks. "Do you think it's better? That they got married or should they have waited to be partnered?"
"Are you asking me whether it would be better to go back to the old way of dating and choosing a partner rather than be matched?"
"Yes. I am."
I finish my champagne and put the glass down, picking up the bottle to refill it and Veronica thrusts her glass toward me with a coy grin. She already had one glass of wine at the restaurant, and knowing she doesn't drink regularly means she's probably already starting to feel this. So I pour for myself and her.
"I don't know." Pausing, I focus on her expression, trying to get a read on what she is really asking, in the hopes I don't screw up again with my answer. "I mean, Lilly seems happy, for the most part, as do her parents and your parents, so maybe there is something to it. But I think, in the end, it's about people wanting to work hard at making it work, no matter how they came together. That means realizing that your actions now affect other people, and vice versa. If one person is in it only for themselves, either chosen through free will or partnered by Orwell, then the whole thing is doomed from the start."
Her back straightens at the mention of Lilly and I wonder if I've said too much.
"You may be right," she whispers, pausing to take the full glass from my hand. "You don't think there was something to the idea that one could try out a person, as it were, before committing?"
Shrugging, l lean back into the couch and stretch my free arm across the back, my hand casually resting near her and she glares at it like it's some sort of snake coming to get her. So I drop it down the soft leather back, finding a tufted button to pick at with my nail.
"My mother tried out my dad before they were married...that's why they got married." I take a slow sip and contemplate my words. "My mother was secretly pregnant when they got married and had a late-term miscarriage. That's why they adopted Trina—they were worried that her exposure to the radiation zones during the war had compromised her reproductive system."
"I'm sorry. I never knew." She finally makes eye contact with me, only for a split second before avoiding my glance yet again. What is she worried I'll see in her eyes if she stares too long?
"Not many do, but I figured we're in the getting to know each other part of the day, so what the hell, why not share?"
Veronica's breath hitches as her cheeks go red and I see that I've embarrassed her with the presumed reference to sex.
"What about your parents?" I quickly add, trying to redirect attention. "They seem happy being matched."
"They are, more or less. I mean, my mother always says that things are so much better now and tells horror stories of what it was like for people before the war, so I guess that's her way of saying she's happy."
She pulls one foot up onto the coffee table and slips off her sandal, then the other, wiggling her perfectly French manicured toes.
I desperately want to drop to my knees and kiss those toes. Then her ankle bone. Then her calf. Then just dive right under her skirt and…
"Fuck." And nothing. There is nothing for you under that skirt.
"What?"
Shit.
"Fuck...yeah...um...it seemed pretty bad before the war. I mean dating and all."
Good save, Echolls. Now stop thinking about sex.
She frowns at me over her glass and this time, I avoid her eyes, placing my drink on the table and doffing my jacket, tossing it over our bags.
"So, if you and Lilly could have…"
My hand flips up in protest, accidentally swiping her arm as I move, and she squeaks in shock.
"I'm sorry, but no. Just stop right there, Veronica. I knew that Lilly was not the one for me. She said it a hundred times. I was just an experiment to her—nothing more, nothing less."
Biting her lip, I see the glassy twinkle in her eye and she nods, but keeps mum.
"Look, I'm not out to argue with you tonight, Veronica. I just really, really need you to understand that Lilly is in the past. I am, and will always be, committed to you, in whatever way you want me to be." I finish my drink in a long sip and place the glass on the table. "But for tonight, I would really like it if this is the last we talk about Lilly. Please."
"Okay," she murmurs and takes a quick sip.
"Good. Because I don't want to talk about Lilly...I want to talk about you."
"You already know me." Pulling her feet up underneath the skirt of her dress, she shifts, trying to look more relaxed.
"Do I really?"
"We've been friends forever, Logan."
"True. But that's mainly because of other people we've hung out with. We've had some classes together, and were in Debate Club together, but we've never been partnered for projects or assignments. And we've never hung out alone, just you and me, so there's still a lot of stuff I don't know about you. Like, I don't even know what your favourite food is?"
"Manicotti from Mama Leone's."
A smile spreads across Veronica's face and it pleases me that I put it there.
"Favorite ice cream?"
"Strawberry Swirl from Amy's Ice Cream Parlor."
"Take your coffee…?"
"Two creams, two sugar."
"See? Getting to know each other." I reach for the bottle of champagne and lift it to my lips, taking a drink. When I'm done, I hand the bottle to her. "Ask a question, take a sip, pass it back. And when we're done with this one, we'll order another, on my father's tab."
Her smile wobbles into a crooked grin of mischief, and she tosses back her remaining drink in the glass, putting it down before taking the bottle from my hand.
"Favorite food?"
"Enchiladas. Take a drink."
She drinks and passes the bottle back to me.
"Favorite pastime."
"Taking photographs."
"Hmmm...interesting." I take a drink and pass it to her. "I don't think I've ever seen you with a camera."
"That's because I like to go out alone and do it. It helps me think and…wait! You're a couple questions up on me. I get to ask a few more."
"Ever the lawyer….go ahead, Ms. Mars."
"Favorite colour?"
"Orange. Next."
"Favorite spot to surf."
"Near Santa Barbara. One more."
"Um...favorite subject in school."
"Can I say Debate Club? Can that count even if it's extracurricular?"
She's mid-sip and she nods her approval, the bottle raised in the air above her face, her lips wrapped tightly around the rim, taking her time before returning it to an upright position.
God, those lips wrapped around my…
"My turn!" My voice cracks as I grab the bottle and drink as she laughs.
"You're supposed to ask first!"
"Sorry. I needed a drink. Are you enjoying this game?"
Pressing her palm to her chest, Veronica giggles, slumping back against the arm of the couch. "Yes! Immensely. Are we going to do this all night?"
"I don't know, is this what you want to do all night?"
"I…" Avoiding eyes again, but this time she rises, almost knocking the glasses off the table as she hurries around to the other side of the couch arm, putting distance between us. "Yes. I guess. If that's okay."
I would rather stretch you across this pristine white couch and show you how I almost made Lilly pass out one night, but….
"...sure...this is great, Veronica." I force my son-of-a-movie-star smile across my face. "Just perfect."
Veronica
"...just perfect."
"Okay, then. Right." Stepping left, I realize I'll have to pass him, so I hop right instead, but my ankles kind of get tied up, and I almost fall, but I catch myself on the arm of the couch and push myself off.
Damn, I'm drunk already.
He's standing, and I wave him off and whoops, there goes my footing again. Fuck, I'm not even in heels, just bare feet. I grab my backpack, knocking his stuff to the ground as I do.
"Sorry. I really wanna change. Order more drinks for us?" Somehow I twirl and holy fuck, I just almost hit the doorway to the bedroom but...saved! Pull up straight and focus on getting through the bedroom to the bathroom, as quickly as possible before I embarrass myself more.
The cool tiles feel lovely on my sore feet and I lock the door behind me in the sprawling bathroom. I need a second to recover. Just for now. Booze and disappointment don't mix.
Gliding over to the mirror, I admire my dress. The blue is the exact same colour as the ocean in the morning and it could be the prettiest thing I now own. Damn, it would have been nice to have Logan peel it off me. But that's not how my night will go. I knew that after the ceremony. And now he brings up Lilly and can't even be near me and all he wants to fucking do is fucking talk when it would have been nice to at least offer to fucking fuck.
"Fuck."
But I don't want to fuck. It sounds like Lilly wanted to fuck. I want to copulate, have intercourse, bang, screw. Who am I kidding...I want to make love. But there's no love for me from Logan. Not that I detect. He could have at least thrown in a question like, "what gets you hot?" Throw me a bone. But nope.
I start fiddling with the back of my dress, undoing the clasps and releasing the zipper before shimmying out of it, a blue pool on the ground. Then the underwear - white cotton pulled off and dropped on top. Digging around in my bag, I find my lacy black underwear, a pair of sleep shorts and a t-shirt. My belly tickles, imagining him coming through the door right now and seeing me drunk and naked in front of the mirror and god, what the hell would I do? Page thirty-eight of my sexual health book. That's what I would do. All about safe sex in the shower. No one breaks a condom. No one breaks their neck. I know that page by heart.
Stare at the reflection of the pristine white bathroom door in the mirror, trying to will it with my mind to open. Or what if I just go out like this. Stark naked. What would he do? Kiss my forehead and send me to bed, alone?
My eyes roll and I sigh so loudly it reverberates against the tiles. That's probably precisely what he'd do.
Grab the sink. Put on my underwear without falling over. Good. Done. Toss on the t-shirt and shimmy on the shorts. Fuck taking off the makeup. Fuck picking up the dress. I'll deal with it tomorrow. Bag too.
Pad back through the bathroom, pull open the door and gasp. Logan's sitting cross-legged on the bed, the bottle of champagne in his hands.
"You changed." I take in his white t-shirt and grey sweats and he grins.
"Figured if you were getting more comfortable…" He takes a swig from the bottle and offers it towards me. "Another one is chilling in the outer suite. I also ordered some meats and cheeses, so we don't get too drunk on an empty stomach."
"Oh, cheese!" I climb onto the big, tall bed and sit across from him, taking the bottle and a long sip. "I like cheese."
"I've ordered a pizza with you and our friends enough times to know. Double cheese always."
"Does that count as my question?"
He shrugs and I pass back the bottle. "If you want it to. Do I get one now?"
"Go ahead. But you need the bottle back then." Take a sip and pass. That's the game, and he sticks to the rules.
"Fine. What did you think of me when you first met me?"
His tongue darts across his lips and he looks down, a crooked grin spreading wide. "That you were hot."
"What? I was 12! And in my soccer uniform when we met."
He shrugs as I take a sip to hide my shock and glee. He thought I was hot.
"In my defence, you were working those shorts and knee socks."
I gasp, and he laughs. "You perv!"
"Your perv now." Leaning over, he takes the bottle from me and downs a long chug. As I watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as he drinks, heat rises in me again.
Maybe I can seduce him? He said I was hot, right?
"So, Verrronica…" His index finger wiggles in the air before pointing in front of my nose. "What did you think of me?"
"I thought you were a dork."
Nope. No seduction.
But he laughs this deep throaty laugh that tickles my heart and runs his fingers through his hair.
"I kinda was then. I think I weighed 80 lbs soaking wet and those braces and the floppy haircut that got in my eyes and….yeah...thanks for the reminder."
Leaning forward, I take the bottle and fall back into my spot and drain the final drops. The bed feels like a cloud, and I am weightless. Damn, those bubbles are excellent.
"Veronica?"
"Hmmm?"
"Do we need the other bottle?"
"Ye-th. Puhleez. And the cheese. Pul-eeze. Ch-eeeze…."
Nope. Can't feel my lips.
I don't know if he's laughing at me or with me but when he leaves he staggers a bit through the door and I giggle but when he returns with the room service cart with a platter of cheeses, meats, and crackers and a fresh open bottle of champagne I don't care.
"Wait? How long was I in the bathroom?"
"Ummm...a while. Didn't you know?"
"Time has lost all meaning." I wave my hand, but instead of exotic and dramatic, it's kind of limp fishy.
Dear God, he's putting the platter on the bed and pushing it towards me and….ugh….
"Oh, I love you, cheese."
"It's a match made in heaven."
He's climbing back into bed while trying to carry the fresh bottle of champagne and takes his place on the other side of the platter, and he's looking so goofy adorable with his hair all dishevelled and offering me food, and I can't stand it.
"Maybe we are."
"We?"
"Yeah. Maybe we are. Cheese and you and me."
Something lights up in his eyes as he looks at me. "I told you I didn't want a polyamorous relationship."
Mischief. That's what that look in his eye is. Pure mischief.
"Fine. Then cheese and me. You get to watch."
"So that's your kink." The grin he flashes is so delicious my body instantly heats up.
"You found me out." I grab a cracker and toss a piece of cheese on top. "Hope you don't mind crumbs in bed. I can get dirty sometimes."
The rumbling chuckle that comes from him is like nothing I've ever heard, deep and sexy, and I avoid his eyes, keeping my focus directly on the food, making another little hors d'oeuvres and I set it down on his side of the platter.
"So, you found out my kink. Now you have to tell me yours." I pop the cracker and cheese in my mouth, and my eyes roll back as the salty, tangy goodness of the blue cheese hits my palate.
He licks his lips and hands me the bottle, leaning so close I can smell his cologne, cedar and musk and citrus and sweat and him.
"My kink is watching you eat cheese in bed. So hot."
The champagne nearly comes up my nose when I laugh and oh my God, I could be the first person who choked to death on their union night.
For a second, he seems concerned by my coughing, but I catch my breath and take another sip to clear my throat.
"Then that's why Orwell put us together."
"Must be." He takes the bottle back, another quick drink. "Next one...were you disappointed it was me?"
"No! I was shocked, but I wouldn't say disappointed."
"Good."
Ugh. That smile again. He could have me right now based on that smile alone. I want to just follow the deep lines in his cheeks that his smile creates with my finger. Feel the stubble against my skin. Take in every curve.
"Were you disappointed by me?"
He chuckles, scratching the stubble on his cheek. "No. Not at all, Veronica. Not at all."
"Good."
As I pass the bottle back, his fingers graze mine in the handoff sending prickles of electricity down my arm and through my body.
"Do you think this will work? I mean, you and me? Do you think, in time, this will work?"
So drunk. I'm so drunk, I don't even know where that question came from before I said it.
"I sure hope so, Veronica. I mean, I promise to try my damndest to make things work. I may not be perfect, but you need to know, I would never, ever do anything to purposely hurt you. That's my promise to you, right here, right now." Another swig from the bottle, but his eyes stay on me.
"I believe you. And I'll try my hardest too. I promise."
"You know, in the old days, they made all these promises when they got married that I don't think a lot of people ever really meant." The bottle comes back to me and he continues. "Let's actually mean this one, okay?"
I take a long sip and hope the alcohol drowns the butterflies flapping around in my stomach before I can answer. Dad once said a relationship was based on trust, mutual respect, and commitment—without those things as the foundation, anything built on top of it would collapse. Maybe tonight, we could start the building of that foundation together.
"Okay, Logan. Okay."
"Good." He stacks a piece of cheese on a cracker and layers on a triangle of cheese and hands it to me. "Now keep eating. It'll help stave off the massive hangover we're about to have tomorrow after all this drinking."
Taking it from him, I quickly pop it in my mouth and wash it down with more alcohol.
Not exactly how I expected things to go tonight, but still not a bad way to spend the first night alone with my partner. Of course, tomorrow is another day.