Logan

My first conscious thought is that it feels like my brain is expanding and contracting in my skull in rhythm to my heartbeat. My second conscious thought is that Veronica is still in my arms and that I shouldn't move because damn, the warmth of her against me is amazing.

Her head is on my right bicep, using it as a pillow and I can't really feel my fingers on that hand anymore, but I know no one has cut them off, so it's all good. I'll suffer. My other arm is slung over her waist and I really want to move it, so my palm is pressed to her stomach like it was last night when we fell asleep. Her entire back is stretched along my torso and goddamn, her ass is against my cock, and I'm thankful that the alcohol has impaired my usual morning wood because shit, if she moves at all, we could be at least halfway to consummating this union.

As we were drunkenly crawling under the covers last night, her sleep shorts slipped a bit, and I realized she was wearing black lace panties underneath those shorts. That had me completely rethinking this offer not to have sex until she was ready and instead dropping to my knees to beg her to take me in whatever fashion she chose. But I was good and refrained. We were both flopping around the king-sized bed, trying to figure out how to sleep together comfortably, when she complained about how the room and the bed were spinning. So, I offered for her to come and sleep with me, to give her an anchor in her drunken movement. She hesitated for a second before rolling into my open arms, and just like that, like a puzzle piece finding its place, we just fit. We figured out immediately that I'm tall enough that my head could rest on the pillow above hers and she could lay on my arm just below and her body could stretch along mine, and when I bent my knees, hers followed like she was sitting on my lap and it all just worked.

Every time I inhale, there's the smell of vanilla, and I think jasmine flowers with a bit of sweetness, and I wonder if it's her perfume or her shampoo or a combination of both. Either way, it reminds me of marshmallows and now I'm bummed I didn't order us dessert last night too.

Food. Bacon. Runny eggs. A mountain of toast. My stomach rumbles and I hope she doesn't hear because fuck, I need a giant hangover breakfast. Coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.

A sigh. Veronica sighs and wriggles against me and Jesus Christ, now I'm hard. Close my eyes and think about that look her dad kept throwing me at dinner like he knew I was going to defile his daughter last night in all manner of unseemly ways. But she never said she wanted to be defiled in ways either seemly or not, so we just kept drinking until there was no way either of us could have fucked, even if one of us expressed any interest.

And all things are under control again. Gotta remember the Keith Mars trick for next time. Because there will be a next time. We're going to live together and I'm letting her set the pace, which means I'll be hiding a lot of boners, especially if these sleep-shorts and a tiny t-shirt is her standard sleep attire. Fuck lingerie. The crease of those cute little ass cheeks of hers showing just under the hem of those shorts sets me on fire. Last night, I was lying in bed already and watching her brush her teeth through the open door of the bathroom and she bent over to pick up her dress and underwear off the floor and I swear I broke into a full-body sweat at the sight of her ass cocked in the air when she bent at the waist. I was glad she finally picked up her clothes since every time I used the bathroom, I had to stare at her….stuff...just laying there, taunting me that I wasn't the one who took them off her.

It was kinda great just talking and laughing with her last night, though. She was mostly Lilly's friend, so even though we've hung out, it was never really alone with each other and it was awesome to just leave that all behind and just be ourselves together. There's always the jokes about getting to know each other the night of the Union Ceremony, but I can honestly say that I think I do know Veronica better now. I hope she feels more comfortable with me too. It isn't about sex—that can wait as long as she needs. I just want us to not kill each other when we are trapped in a dorm together at college.

They've been preparing us for years for this moment. The government made sure we know about sex and pleasure and contraception and respect in the hope that when they partnered us off that we would all be ready to go. Make careers. Make lives. Make babies. Rebuild an entire country from the rubble of what they left us, one Orwell-created family at a time. Am I complaining? No. Anyone Orwell could have matched me with is better than staying at home and living my life with Aaron anymore.

I'm still trying to figure out what Veronica truly thinks about our system. She trusts everyone so implicitly that I'm surprised that there was any question that she would say yes to our union. That's why I think she still doesn't believe it will work. Anyone else and I feel like she'd have been gleefully happy because the government told her to be. With me, however, she balked.

Right now, the most I let myself hope for is that we can be civil to each other—which I don't think will be hard—for the next year. We leave tonight for college, and then that's it, we're on our own to figure out how to make this work. I feel like if we can accomplish just not driving each other batshit crazy over the next little while, it will all work out. And cuddling. I'd like to add convincing Veronica that waking up in my arms is a good thing onto my shortlist of expectations. I'll just have to make sure and get up before she does so I can take care of my inevitable morning wood in the shower.

I hear rumbling, but this time, it's not my stomach making the noise, and I can't help but chuckle and move my hand to press against Veronica's soft belly. It rises and rolls and gurgles again as she moans, shifting in my arms.

"Ugh. Lo—?"

Her palm comes to rest on the back of my hand, her fingers sliding down over mine until they naturally entwine.

"Nauseous?"

"A little."

She shifts against me again and I send orders down to my crotch to keep still, but damn it, she's pressing back into me and wriggling. I suck in air through my teeth, trying to hold on.

"I'll get up and order us breakfast. That'll help."

I try to slip my hand away, but she grabs it, holding it to her.

"No! Don't move. The bed is still spinning."

"Really?"

"Yes. Am I still drunk?"

I peek over her shoulder just as she rolls her head back a bit to look up at me. Her eyes are half-open, but I can see the blood-shot redness even like that.

"You may be. We did have two bottles of champagne and you were keeping up with me and given your size…"

"Ugh…"

She lets go of my hand and rolls over, forming a tight ball against me and grabbings my shirt like she's a baby koala hanging on to its parent.

"I promise not to barf on your pecs, just don't go until I get my bearings, okay?"

Smoothing her hair away from her cheek, I smile down at her, but she doesn't notice—her eyes are closed again. "I won't go anywhere. Not until you're ready, I promise."

"Okay. Good." Her nose whistles slightly as she breathes slowly, obviously trying not to barf, and I chuckle, shaking both of us slightly. "And stop laughing at me."

"I'm not laughing at you, Veronica. I'm just enjoying this time with my new partner, that's all."

"Mmmm. You're enjoying my pain, huh?"

"No. Not that at all. I'm just enjoying being here with you. Like this. I mean, come on, you have to admit, this is cozy, right?"

She says nothing, but I hear her snuffle a bit and...is she sniffing me?

"I'll give you that. This is kind of nice."

Veronica's knees shift and catch my balls, sending a blinding white flash of pain through me.

"Jesus! Fuck."

"Oh, God, I'm sorry! Is your stomach okay?"

"That wasn't my stomach you kneed," I hiss, trying to keep it together. "Lower."

"Oh? Oh! Oh no, Logan, I'm sorry." She rolls away from me under the covers, her eyes wide in shock.

"Don't worry. It happens. Cuddling can be a dangerous thing."

At this, she frowns for a second then pulls herself up to sit near the pillows on the far end of the bed.

"Never thought I could screw up cuddling."

My laugh comes out as a sharp bark and I shake my head at her surprise. "Veronica. You're not bad at cuddling. It's fine. We're just getting used to each other, that's all."

"I guess." She turns a particular shade of white with a green tinge and slides back down under the covers, her head resting on the pillow.

"Tell you what...I'll jump in a quick shower, then order us breakfast. You just lay there and regroup, and when the food gets here, you can eat in bed like a queen."

Her nose twitches, then wrinkles as she smiles, and that along with her dishevelled hair and the pink flush of embarrassment on her cheeks makes her look like the damn cutest queen I've ever seen.

"A queen, huh. You may need to be careful, I'm liable to ask you to do this for me every morning."

I sit up and wink at her. "I would do it, too."

"You would?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I would. If you haven't noticed yet, Veronica, I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make this work. And if bringing you coffee and bacon in bed every morning is part of it, then I'll adapt."

"No, I….that's not what I want, Logan. I want a partner, not a subservient boy who caters to my every whim. And I don't think you want to be that either."

"Maybe." I shrug. "Could be fun if you gave me an outfit. Maybe something leather and…" The squeak in her gasp makes me realize that maybe I took things too far, and I dial it back. "I'm kidding, Veronica. I would like it if we make this partnership work as an equal affair as well."

"But, you'll still order me bacon today, right?"

"Yes, my darling." Pulling the covers off, I slip out of the warmth of the bed and stand, turning to give a little bow. "But for now, a shower."

I swivel towards the bathroom before she can respond and make a hasty exit as I allow my brain to indulge in the thought of Veronica in those black lace panties and nothing else, ordering me around the bedroom.

Fuck. At least I'm getting a jump on my morning routine.

Veronica

How can I feel so terrible and so great? My mouth is like sandpaper, and my eyes throb every time I open them, and I think there's a tiny construction crew rebuilding my brain in my skull, but waking up in Logan's arms was the best feeling in the world. Damn, he smells good; like the salt from the ocean is permanently embedded in his skin, combined with cedar and sandalwood and a subtle muskiness of, well, man underneath it all.

Last night, when he suggested getting closer, all I wanted was the room to stop spinning, so I gratefully rolled into his arms. But then when I was there, my whole body began to tingle in a way I had never experienced being near him before. Yearning. A deep, deep want for Logan-fucking-Echolls to wholly and desperately fall in love with me and sweep me off my proverbial feet like in some ludicrous storyline from a romantic movie from before the war. Not just the lust that I was feeling all night between my thighs. I wanted everything. Every emotion. I wanted him to love me, hate me, laugh with me, grow old with me. Suddenly and inexplicably, I wanted it all.

Tucked against him, I could feel his heartbeat against my back and when I closed my eyes, I focused on my breathing and it started to sync with his and it was just so peaceful. Whenever I imagined this night, I seemed to omit the actual sleeping part. None of what I believed would happen actually happened, though.

I had hoped at some point during the evening one of us would have got up the nerve—thanks to the champagne—to suggest we should have sex. I hoped that Logan would kiss me softly while he stripped off my clothes. That he would lay me on the bed, run his fingers across my skin, watching my face to see how I reacted to his touch. How he'd take my willingness to explore further and slide his fingers over my clit and bring me to orgasm like I've done to myself a million times before while he watched me and smiled at what he accomplished.

Shit. Now I'm hungover and horny.

I focus on the bathroom door, hearing the shower run. Don't want to risk it. What if Logan comes out and finds me getting myself off? Great way to start a partnership—we don't have sex, but I'm masturbating the next day. I mean, I'm not going to stop doing it, but we're about to share a dorm room. I'll just have to figure out a way to go about it with my vibrator without detection. That was the first thing I packed, not even knowing who I was partnered with because what if I found out my partner was actually bad at sex. But who am I kidding...Logan was fooling around with Lilly. There is no way he's terrible at sex. She would have kicked him to the curb if he was.

Oh God...what if I'm bad at sex? I mean, I just screwed up cuddling by kneeing him in the balls. Let's face it, Lilly is sexy as hell and probably just naturally knew what to do. She doesn't even own a vibrator. Although now that I know about Logan, I understand why.

She once wore this black bathing suit to the beach that plunged all the way to her navel, and that night even I had a sex dream about her so vivid, I thought I should change my answers for Orwell. It may have been a one-time thing, but I couldn't look Lil in the eye for a week after.

Here's the thing though...I've never been bad at anything. Anything. It's always just all come naturally to me. Algebra? No problem. Creative writing? Yes. Singing? I'm pitch-perfect. But sex? How the hell am I supposed to know? In our sexual health class, they make it all seem so natural and normal but I'm sorry, some of the things and positions discussed must have been discovered by some deeply depraved people.

Oh fuck, I am a prude. Like my mother before me.

I freaked out about him and Lilly. I agreed to this chaste arrangement because I was overwhelmed. If it was anyone else but Logan, I probably would have had sex with them. Still, because I'm this prude who's never done anything so much as kiss a boy, I've locked myself into this arrangement in a way that is unsatisfying. All these years of giggling and torturing my Mom with these little shots about being sexually evolved and deep, deep down, I'm still just a prude trying to act like I'm this fantastically sexually liberated woman. Like Lilly. But in reality, I'm so not like Lilly at all. Not in the least.

"Ugh!"

I pull the covers over my head and ball like an armadillo. I'm never coming out. Not even for bacon.

The shower stops, and I hold my breath, waiting for the sound of the bathroom door to open. "One Mississippi, two Mississippi…" I continue the rest in my head, filling the time and entertaining my brain. At around forty-five Mississippi's, Logan exits, and I lay perfectly still as I hear him walk closer to the bed.

The whole mattress shifts, and I bounce a bit as he jumps onto his side of the bed. Peeking my head out from the covers, he grins at me, still wet but back in his sweats and t-shirt, so they are sticking to him in all sorts of ways, showing off the skin underneath. His hair is standing on end, probably from his towel-off, and his face is left unshaven, showing a burgeoning shading on his cheeks and chin.

"How much bacon do you require in the mornings? Ten pieces? Twenty?" Picking up the phone, he presses the button to connect with room service as I ponder his words.

"Five with waffles, strawberries and whipping cream, please."

He winks as the call connects. "Good morning! I'd like to order room service for myself and my lovely partner…we will need ten pieces of bacon, one order of waffles with strawberries and whipping cream, eggs benedict, hash browns, and toast. And the biggest carafe of coffee you have, please." I can hear the server repeat the order back through the phone. "Great. Thank you."

He leans over and hangs up the phone before leaning back against the headboard, his hands tucked behind his head, elbows out to either side and grins at me, tucked into my cocoon.

"Shower's free if you want."

"Maybe later," I mumble.

Silence. Painful, awkward, silence.

"So….are you packed?"

Thank God. A question.

"Yeah. But my room is still a disaster, so I have to put things back together before we leave tonight. How about you?"

"Yep. Been ready for days now. All packed and ready to go."

"Good. That's good." My brain wavers. I don't know why this feels so weird. Maybe because I've never wakened up next to someone before? "By the way, I called the registrar's office before the ceremony and told them I would be arriving with my partner on Saturday, so my dorm accommodations had to change. I gave them your name so they would change your arrangements too."

"Oh shit! Right. Thanks for doing that. I completely forgot."

Dear God, don't let me be taking care of everything for the rest of our lives.

"No problem."

Silence. When is that food coming? It feels like an hour since we ordered. Okay…a few seconds, but still…

"So, what do you think the dorms look like? Think they're about the same as the ones Lilly and Sabrina are in? I hear it's pretty nice—has a kitchenette and a little living room—more like a small apartment than a dorm."

I shrug. "Probably. I know a lot of them are retrofitted from the dorms that existed before the war, but I think ours is a newer building." I'm starting to get hot under the covers, so I slide up, propping myself up on the pillow with my arm on my side so I can still see Logan. "The old co-ed dorms are still for the unmatched people. I did see in the information package they sent that the family houses are also really near our building."

"Ah. Is that incentive to procreate? Shove us in a tiny room together and make us look out at the people who have kids in their homes with yards to try and entice us to repopulate the country in exchange for better housing?"

A snort-laugh escapes me and I shake my head. "Probably. But that won't be happening with us. Just so you know, about six months ago, I chose to get an IUD, so if…when…" My cheeks heat up and I can't look Logan in the eye. "We don't have to worry."

"Fair enough—" he murmurs.

More silence. Shit, is this what our entire partnership will be like? We need to be drunk to talk like normal humans?

"So, the airport. Tonight." He scratches his stubbled cheek in thought before continuing. "I thought that maybe we could arrive together if you want?"

"Yeah. Sure. That would be great." Yes! I was worried about my mother making a fuss at the airport. This will solve everything. "Maybe you can take a cab to my place and pick me up and we can go together?"

"Yes! I can do that." Logan's enthusiasm is jump-started and I breathe a little sigh of relief. Suddenly though, his face contorts into a cringe. "Duncan is on the same flight."

"And?"

"And…he's not too happy that you and I were partnered." Folding his arms across his chest, Logan lets out a low whistle. "He is not happy at all."

"Why? What happened?" I sit all the way up and pull myself closer to him. "Did you see him?"

"I…I'm the one who broke it to him. And let me just say, I think he was really hoping it would be him, not me, that you were partnered with."

My lips part, but no words come out. What am I supposed to say? That I thought it would be Duncan too? I choose instead to press my lips together and not say a word.

"He was at my house when we got back from your place and I broke it to him and he kind of threw a tantrum."

"A tantrum?"

"Yep. A tantrum." Logan shrugs. "You know he's had a crush on you for years, right?"

"A crush? On me?" My laugh is so sharp Logan jumps a bit. "On me?"

"Yes! On you. Why wouldn't you think he would?"

I look past Logan towards the mirror over the dresser. My hair is a wreck, my skin is pale and sallow from dehydration, and I'm in a crappy old t-shirt and shorts. "I'm not exactly crush material."

This time Logan's laugh makes me jump. "Veronica. You are completely 100% crush material. You're smart, funny, and quite adorable if I do say so myself."

"Adorable?" My nose wrinkles. "That's hardly crush-worthy."

"Adorable is crush-worthy, in my books anyway."

I catch a wobbly grin spread across his lips, and for a split second, I wonder if he's talking from experience about me?

"Logan, I…"

There's a sharp knocking on the door to the suite and quick as a flash, Logan is off the bed and jogging out the bedroom door, leaving my words hanging on the tip of my tongue. As I listen to him greet the bell-hop, I lean back against the pillows, trying to calculate what just happened.

Did Logan Echolls just admit he had a crush on me?

"Can't be true," I mutter to myself.

Logan was always ogling the girls with dyed hair and big breasts. Always ready for quick banter with them in the halls or in class. On top of being a jackass, he was a notorious flirt, always prepared with his quick wit for those who wished to spar with him. Of the girls I watched him interact with over the years, none of them came close to looking or sounding like me.

"Your breakfast, my queen."

I snap from my thoughts as Logan rolls the silver cart into the bedroom, and he waves his hand at me.

"Get under the covers. I promised you breakfast in bed, and I aim to please."

It takes my body a second to catch up to my orders, but when it does, I wiggle comfortably into place, smoothing the duvet over my lap. I watch as he pours a coffee from the carafe and drops two sugar in the cup before placing it on the side table near me. He then takes one of the napkins and flips it dramatically in the air, letting it fall across my lap. On top of it, he places my plate of waffles, handing me the silver-wear with a small nod. To finish off, he takes the tongs and scoops five pieces of bacon from the tray and places them on my plate next to the waffle. Stepping back, he bows.

"Is everything to your liking?"

A tickle of happiness runs through me, and I bite my lip as I look from him to my plate and back to him, grinning at me like a fool and for the first time since I read his name on that piece of paper I think that maybe, just maybe, everything will be fine.

"Thank you. It's perfect, Logan. Just perfect."