Logan
Apparently the words 'permission granted' were all we needed to open the floodgates for both of us. By the time we're making our way across campus, we've kissed five times. The first time was a quick kiss I gave her on the back of the head while she slept, snoring gently, as I unwrapped myself from around her and slid out into the cold room for a shower. There was the soft good-morning kiss she rewarded me with when I presented coffee to her as she came out of the bathroom from her shower. There was the light kiss to her temple that I gave her which made her giggle as she washed out her big cobalt blue coffee mug next to me in the kitchen. There was the lingering kiss she responded with, rising on her toes, her hands grasping my shoulders as her lips parted, her tongue sweeping past mine as a low murmur of appreciation vibrated between us. The final one was another quick peck, this time on my cheek, as I locked the door to our room. When I was done, she reached for my hand, her fingers threading with mine as we walked through the hallway.
I knew she was experimenting with me to some extent, seeing what small affections stuck and which ones didn't feel as natural, but I didn't mind. Lilly was my sexual experiment and I', Veronica's. And if Veronica wants to experiment with me in much more innocent ways, I'm more than happy to oblige.
There's an easy silence between us as we walk across the quad towards Steinem Hall, taking note of the other students mingling around the common areas. It's just before noon and there is a peaceful buzz of energy around the campus. There's a fair number of people pushing babies in strollers and families playing in the green-spaces, and I catch Veronica smiling at a few of them as we pass along the path.
The main commissary building at the university has that post-war bunker look, all grey concrete and green aluminum shingling. It's bleak, built when the Government was just trying to get life started again, but inside, the tall ceilings give way to natural light streaming through the skylights above, held up by solid wood timbers. It looks as if it was built as a massive warehouse, but over the last twenty years, it's been retrofitted with walled-in sections to give small businesses space to sell their wares. There's a store where you could get the basics for your dorm room—sheets, comforters, wire hangers, etc—that's run by the university. There's a drug store, a small grocery store, and a couple of clothing stores with unisex outfits in the windows. There is even a 'baby supply store' for the families on campus. There aren't many families in the building at this time, but that's probably because their houses feature full kitchens and why eat the crap we can choose in the cafeteria when you can make something better at home?
Piz and Duncan look up from their spot in the sea of bright green metal tables and chairs and Veronica squeezes my hand, hard, as we make our way through the tables filled with other students. Once again, I catch Duncan's eyes shifting from our joined hands back up to our faces as he frowns. Can I put in a personal request to Orwell to get him partnered sooner than later? Or maybe he'll discover he and Piz are compatible and they can run off to Mexico or Canada together. Yeah. That one would work too.
"So what kind of gruel is the cafeteria serving as brunch today?" I ask as we approach, noticing they both have ordered already.
"They actually have a couple of choices," Piz offers. "Cheese omelettes, scrambled eggs, breakfast burritos…"
"Oh! Yes! That!" Veronica exclaims, coming to a halt at the edge of the table. "Do you want one too? I'll go grab them for us since you made coffee for me this morning. Again."
I drop her hand and squeeze myself behind her, my hands resting on her hips as I move between her and the edge of the neighbouring table. I feel a full-body shiver pass over her as I pause for the briefest moment, my hips pressed to the curve of her ass and I kiss the back of her head before continuing to my seat next to Duncan. When I look up at her, I discover a pink flush across her cheeks and I'm quite pleased with myself that I had such a physically obvious reaction from her.
"Sure. That would be great, thank you. Can you also grab me another coffee, please? This day needs way more than one cup if we're going to sit through a bunch of boring information this afternoon."
"I can do that. Be back in a minute."
She takes a step to leave and pauses. Then, as if pressing rewind on her actions, she comes back to the end of the table and leans down towards me, giving me a quick kiss on the lips. On her retreat, I see the twinkle in her eyes and she arches her eyebrow at me, conspiratorially. Even if I tried I wouldn't be able to stop the giant grin which spreads across my face. Her affection is so natural and genuine and easy that my heart tightens at my luck.
"Things are going well for you guys?" I glance over at Piz, his thick eyebrows frowning at me behind his floppy bangs.
"Yep. Couldn't be happier."
"That's good. You're one of the lucky ones, then."
A smirk replaces my grin as I feel the jackass in me bubble up from its hiding place deep in my belly.
"I guess I am most definitely one of the lucky ones, Piz. Not every day one gets partnered with another amazing, intelligent person. Orwell must like me."
He snorts, balling up his hand into a fist and pressing it against his lips. "Or, maybe the fact that your parents are part of the government propaganda machine could have helped."
My second meeting with this guy and I want to deck him. Duncan must have been gossiping like a crazy old man about our lives back in Neptune since not a lot of people outside of the movie industry and certain war-hero circles even know who my parents are anymore. I wonder if it will always be this way with Duncan now? Because frankly, I think I want to deck him too. Instead, I choose to take a slow breath and lean towards Piz.
"If you're insinuating what I think you're insinuating, Piz, then you may want to step away right now. We're all equal with the same opportunities as everyone else."
"You don't believe some of us are more equal than others?"
"No. No, I don't."
Leaning back, I glance at Duncan sitting quietly beside me and shake my head. So much for best friends jumping in to help each other. With a dismissive wave of my hand, I focus back on my new sparring partner.
"So Piz…how did you get that unfortunate moniker? Bedwetting? Or just too much blazing up? You know piz is shorthand for weed right? Tell me, were you an illegal dealer or a smoker too?"
Duncan elbows me and I feel like shoving him back like we're 12 years old.
"It's his nickname. Short for Stosh Piznarski."
"And I've never touched weed," Piz replies, indignantly.
"You should. Maybe it would help your personality."
"What the hell does that mean? You know nothing about me."
"Like you know so much about me? The fact is that I know exactly who you are…" I lower my voice and lean in even closer. "I know a shit disturber when I see it and trust me when I say this, Piz, you keep your eyes off Veronica and your lips shut about how we were partnered."
Piz tosses up his hands, palms to me as he leans back in his seat. "Settle down there, Logan. Just because I don't want to be a Government stooge for the rest of my life doesn't mean I'm attacking you or Veronica."
"I'm sorry. Do I know you from somewhere? Because there is no way a stranger is this far up my ass without us at least going to dinner first."
"Nice. Very nice. You're a homophobe too. Classy."
"That wasn't homophobic. It's just common courtesy to do a little wining and dining before we get down to business." I toss him a wink and a kiss and he scowls. Guess his bisexual metre is firmly set at 0, whereas my number is quite a bit little higher.
"No, Logan. You don't know me. But I know your type. You come from a family who is part of the government system and just blindly follows it into whatever abyss it has planned for us."
"You don't look like you're suffering, Piznarski. In fact, I bet that you're the type of guy whose family probably benefited from universal basic income. And since you're about to become educated and fed by that same government for the next three years, you may want to stop throwing stones that may bounce and hit you square in the face."
"Is that a threat?"
"It's not a threat, but let's get one thing straight if you're going to be hanging out with my best friend—I don't agree with everything the government is doing, but I'm sure as shit not complaining about what they're providing to me and Veronica, especially knowing about the hardships people faced before and after the war. And if you want to pick fights with me about it every single time we meet, you better be prepared with facts instead of hunches."
The hum of voices all around us fills the silence at the table as we look to one another to see who will draw their metaphorical gun first. Although right now I would kill to pull the trigger first and start a good brawl, I hold myself steady, waiting.
"Okay. So I got the last burritos for us! I thought I would have to wrestle some beefy looking guy for them, but he ended up choosing the omelette instead so it was fine. Oh, and I got us some hash browns too because I don't know about you, but I am starving."
Veronica's chipper voice cracks the silent stalemate and I exhale. She places the tray with our food in front of me and plops herself down in the seat next to Piz, completely oblivious to what has just taken place.
"Thanks. I appreciate that you would go to such lengths for me."
She reaches over and places my shiny paper-wrapped breakfast burrito in front of me, her eyes twinkling once again with Veronica delight.
"Always."
And just like that, my chest muscles constrict so hard it feels like a heart attack. Damn it, why did she have to be so fucking nice to me all the time? I'm not used to this much kindness on a daily basis.
"Are...are you okay?" Her hand falls to mine as she leans forward.
"Sorry." Banging my chest with my fist, I loudly clear my throat. "Heartburn. Too much coffee this morning and not enough food."
"Well then, eat. We have about half an hour before we need to make our way to the gymnasium for the orientation." She starts unwrapping her burrito, flattening the tin foil wrapping neatly underneath. "So did you grab your textbooks yet, Duncan?"
"Yeah. The line at the Book Depository was pretty crazy but I managed to get a textbook that wasn't too badly marked up."
"We still need to do that tonight. We were both catching up on our sleep after coming in so early Saturday morning. There was no way I would have lasted standing in a line for textbooks this morning."
Veronica raises the burrito to her lips and takes a huge bite of her breakfast. Her eyes roll back slightly as she chews and I realize that watching how much she enjoys food is a sight I may never get tired of.
Wiping her lips with a paper napkin, she swallows, sighing with contentment before speaking again.
"On the bright side, they're free. So what if they're recycled from year to year. Lilly once told me that back before the war, textbooks were almost $200 each. Isn't that crazy?"
"Yes, but the content was written by scholars. Now it's content written by the government," Duncan interjects.
"No it's not," Veronica snaps, the burrito hovering in front of her lips. "It's scholars paid by the government to produce books. There's a difference."
"You're so naive, Veronica," Duncan tosses back and that's when I see Veronica's eyes flicker and change to flames with the kind of intensity reserved for those who challenged her in class. But Duncan misses it and keeps on hopelessly babbling. "They're paid to feed us more propaganda. Piz showed me some interesting research he's been doing for some articles and…"
"Stop talking." Veronica drops her burrito back on the tinfoil and leans in. "Just stop talking, Duncan, before you get yourself into trouble."
And there it finally was. There was that passion...that spark I would see in Veronica when we were debating. This is the first time I've really seen it in practice outside of school and watching her about to take a strip off of Duncan is rather intoxicating.
"But Veronica…"
"Look Duncan, we all agree that the system is not perfect but I refuse to believe it's as nefarious as you make it out to be. Your own sister has told countless stories from her research into what life was like before the war. People were just indentured servants to the corporations. There was racism and hate causing chaos and riots. The New Democracy changed all of that and provided peace and order and stability for everyone by dismantling the old system and giving us a new one based on equality and justice for all. And yes, it may not be perfect, but it's better than where we've been."
"We have no choice!" Duncan slams his fist down on the table, his face suddenly flushes with rage. "We have no choice in our lives anymore and you're living proof of that, Veronica. You've been forced to partner with someone you barely know and take a career path at a college not of your choosing. They make it seem like you have choices, but really, now you're just an indentured servant to the government too."
Glancing around, I realize the tables around us have gone quiet as they listen to Duncan. This is bad. Really bad. Because if he's seen as a subversive to the system and someone calls a Campus Advisor, Duncan's life and career could be over before it even starts.
"Duncan, you need to settle down." I place my hand on his shoulder and he tenses, shrugging me away. "I know you don't really feel this way. We've talked about this for years and I know you want to help people. This is how you can. Go to school, become a lawyer, then work the system to help those people. Like you always planned."
Duncan's face begins to turn back to a normal shade of pasty white and I breathe a sigh of relief. No matter how naive I may think Veronica is, Duncan has always been so much worse. His parents coddled him like a newborn—probably up until the moment he left for college a few days ago. The only one who ever set him straight about anything was Lilly and with her gone for over a year now, I know he's been listening to the rambling of his domineering mother a bit too much. He confided once that his mother coached him before he answered his profile questions for Orwell—like studying for a test. Except it seemed that with Celeste's help, her baby boy may have failed miserably.
"Well, this was fun." Piz stands, placing his palms on the table to lean in over us. "I'm going to head over early and get a good seat. You coming, Duncan?"
Choices, Duncan. It's all about choices, dude.
Unfortunately, the words stay in my head and I watch Duncan rise. "Yeah. Let's go. See you later, Veronica. Logan."
The two shuffle off into the bustling centre and Veronica and I are left alone. For a time, we both continue to eat in silence. When she's done with her breakfast, she leans back in her chair with her coffee and shakes her head.
"I can't believe he's still acting this way."
Balling up the tin foil wrapper, I toss it on the tray and watch it roll towards her.
"I can. Honestly, Veronica, I'm starting to think that Duncan's vision of what his life would be like started with being partnered with you. And now that it isn't happening, he's having problems recalibrating his brain."
"This Piz guy seems to be an influence."
"In the absence of his parents, Duncan needs someone to tell him what to do. I guess Piz is going to fill that gap. The fact that he's saying he has no choices or freedom is laughable considering how tightly his family influenced his every choice in life so far."
Veronica bites her lip, rocking slightly as she thinks. Leaning forward, she reaches out and I take her hand across the table.
"I'm worried about him, Logan. He's acting like a jerk, but he's still our friend."
"I know, Veronica. But maybe we need to just give him some time and space to figure it out for himself."
Stroking the back of her hand with my thumb, I focus on the soft tan of her skin next to mine. Our California skin will start to fade. Hopefully so will Duncan's resentment.
Veronica
"Whatcha looking at?"
From his spot across from me, Logan moves his head in close to mine and grins, batting his eyelashes at me which makes me giggle.
"Everyone. I'm looking at everyone."
From the middle of the aluminum gymnasium stands in F.G. Joyner Pavillion, we have a pretty clear view of all the first-year students streaming into the space. They're all around the same age as us, give or take a few months, as post-secondary education is mandatory. The joke back at our old school was that this was 13th grade, just with more work and better cafeteria food.
I've been quietly enjoying people watching since we sat down, while Logan flipped through the new student handbook we were given when we entered. There were the obviously single people, coming in by themselves or in small groups, talking as they found seating. Then there were the partnered—two or sometimes three people—some holding hands, some not. I noticed a few pregnant women, their hands resting on their baby bumps. But what was really fascinating to me was their expressions. For many, there were smiles and bright looks of enthusiasm as they shared conversations between parties, holding hands while they walked. For others, there was silence, a look of neutral detachment to those they shuffled in with. This morning, when I got out of the shower, I could hear our next door neighbours arguing through the wall, and I tried to push the sound of their bickering aside. After hearing so many arguments between my parents as a child, I should be able to ignore such things, but it still brought up thoughts of being awakened from my sleep by the sound of their yelling in the middle of the night. And then I opened the door to find Logan, leaning against the kitchen counter with a big cup of coffee in his hand and a giant grin on his face, and when he handed it to me I couldn't help but give him a small kiss in thanks, not just for the coffee, but for distracting me from my memories.
In the crowd, I spot Wallace and Jackie walking together. She's engrossed in a conversation with two girls walking near them. My heart sinks a bit when I see she's not holding Wallace's hand, but I comfort myself with the idea that it could be because the other two are distracting her.
"Wallace!"
Logan stands and waves and I see Wallace catch his eye and wave back. He nudges Jackie and points up at us and I wave and smile, hoping they come and join us. She replies with a smile and a nod then points us out to the other women and they look up and wave back. I wonder if the two women are a couple, but can't get any physical cues from their behaviour—no hand-holding, no touching, no visibly strong connection. The girl closest to Jackie is tall with a willowy figure, long sandy blond hair, and sun-kissed skin that makes her look like she's from the West Coast as well. She's in tight black capri pants, beaded sandals, and a beautiful embroidered white blouse that gives her a somewhat ethereal look as she walks towards us. The other girl is slightly shorter with cropped short hair streaked purple and blue which is a stark contrast to her peachy complexion. She's in a t-shirt, hoodie, and jeans and she bounds slightly ahead of Jackie when they reach the bleacher steps to walk next to Wallace towards us. The entire party stops at the end of the aisle and Wallace waves his hand towards the empty row in front of us.
"Hey guys! Let's sit here so we can talk," he says, ushering the women past him.
The blond goes first, ending up sitting in front of Logan and she grins up at him, offering her hand. "Hi! I'm Parker! Parker Lee."
Logan shakes her hand and smiles. "I'm Logan. Logan Echolls. And this is my partner, Veronica Mars."
Parker's already wide grin increases as she reaches for my hand next. "Oh my God! That's great. Congratulations."
I shake her hand and smile from her to the other woman who has now sat beside her. "Thank you. Are you guys…"
"No!" The girl with the colourful hair throws up her hands and shakes her head. "No, we're just roommates in the single dorms. I'm Cindy Mackenzie, but everyone calls me Mac."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I kind of just assumed." Heat rises in my cheeks and Logan drops his hand to my knee, a small reassurance.
"That's okay," Parker laughs, waving her hand dismissively. "We'll probably get that a lot. I rejected my match, so I'll probably end up hanging out with everyone a lot just for the company."
"You did?'
"Yeah. I'm bisexual and Orwell placed me with a man I felt I had no connection to, so I rejected the match. But because I'm bi, it'll try and place me one more time, but with a woman. Eventually. So for now, I just have to wait."
"Oh. Wow." It is the best response my brain can come up with. Even though I knew that our sexual preferences were taken into consideration and that there were small opportunities for 'do-overs', I'm always still a little shocked when I hear of it happening.
"And I'm ace—asexual," Mac interjects, raising her hand. "I chose not to get matched. I mean, I could have still chosen to get partnered, but I really didn't want a relationship—platonic or romantic. Just not my jam."
"So at least we can be alone...together…" Parker giggles. "Which is nice because Mac is the coolest and has promised to help me put bright pink streaks in my hair tonight."
"Mac and Wallace went to school together," Jackie adds. "And Parker is in the business program with me."
"I'm in the technology program," Mac continues, glancing down the row at everyone. "Just me and hopefully, someday Orwell and some of the other systems they're developing."
"You want to work with Orwell? That's pretty cool." Logan squeezes my knee and I drop my hand to cover his.
"Well, I want to work for the government to get our national communications systems working well. I've was doing a lot of research in high school about the history of technological developments leading up to the war and I really think that with the proper tools in place, we can revive some of the old communications systems to bring us back on track with the rest of the world."
"My best friend, Lilly, is an anthropologist focusing on pre-war 'America.' It's quite fascinating, especially considering so much of the world operated on data that was lost forever when the systems shut down."
Mac's eyes light up like I offered her all-you-can-eat ice cream. I just met her but already I like her based on this reaction.
"Yes! It's so interesting. Most of our research is coming from data from other countries that didn't shut down their data systems completely, so it's 'their' record of how they view us, not our own, and it's often unflattering. What always surprised me though is that they had all this knowledge and power and they used it for such mundane things. Like, they could have built super-computers to run simulations and calculations to cure diseases and illnesses, but instead, they used it to make videos of their cats and post them for everyone to see."
A ripple of laughter runs through our small group and I shrug. "I prefer dogs. Any way you can make it so we can have both?"
Mac tosses me a wink. "I'll do my best."
"When I become a politician I'll make sure to draft laws that include funny animal videos as an essential part of our national structure." Logan leans over and kisses my temple, sending a wave of happiness through me. "Just for you."
"Awwwww…." Parker sighs, her hands clasping her heart. "See. I want that."
Logan and I exchange a look of confusion. "Want what? More cat videos?"
"This!" She scoffs and waves her hand between us. "What you guys obviously have. How long have you been together?"
I wrinkle my nose. "Um...four days?"
"What?" The gasp rises from everyone and I feel like I've said something wrong.
"But we were friends before this," Logan interjects. "We've actually known each other since we were 12 years old."
Glancing at Jackie and Wallace, I notice her fidget in her seat, her eyes cast low. Without a word, Wallace's hand comes around her shoulders as she continues to look away and suddenly, I feel bad about having a connection to Logan from the start.
"You guys are so lucky. The guy I was partnered with—Mercer—was in my high school in Denver. He was that kind of guy that looked nice on the outside, but totally gave me the creeps whenever we were in classes together. That's why I rejected him...my gut just told me no."
"I'm sorry it didn't work out for you, Parker. Maybe the next match will be better."
"Thanks. I'm kind of hoping it does too. If not, I'll be spending a lot more time with Mac."
"Hey!" Mac calls out. "I'm delightful. You should be happy we're roommates."
Parker leans over and wraps her arm around Mac's shoulder, giving her a quick squeeze. "I know you are, Mac! We've only been friends for 72 hours but I love you already!"
Mac laughs and we all join in, even Jackie, who turns her head back to the group. Wallace kisses her temple and she gives him a soft smile in response, closing her eyes as he gives her shoulder a squeeze.
Right now, it's hard to believe we are all still just starting out in our lives. Parker and Mac seem so sure of themselves. Wallace and Jackie seem to be managing, in their own particular way. And even Logan and I are trying to find what works for us in this time of transition.
"If everyone could please find a seat, we're about to begin."
Dean O'Dell stands tall at the microphone in the centre of the gymnasium floor and adjusts his spectacles on his nose, staring into the stands. In the time we've been talking, tables have appeared behind him, each with signs—Stipend Cards, Student Expense Forms, Medical Cards—and staff sitting on chairs behind them, smiling back at us.
Glancing around at the full stands, I sigh, wiggling on the hard bench. According to the handbook, there's going to be lecturing, by Dean O'Dell and others, and then, we'll line up for all of our university bureaucratic supplies. If my already numb butt is any indication, this is definitely going to be a long and painful afternoon.