Chapter 5 – Preparing for a wedding
*Flashback - 5 Years earlier*
Duncan and I had made a deal. We had decided to have our Bachelorette and Bachelor parties on the same night. As so many of Duncan's family had traveled from across the country, we kept it close to the wedding, so they only had to make one trip to Neptune.
Of course, this had its benefits. But also its drawbacks.
The battles began; over Logan. He was both our best friends. He'd been in the Navy for three years and had been away on tour most of the time, so the idea that he wasn't able to spend the night celebrating with us both was contentious. We finally came up with a compromise. Duncan could have him until 10 pm, and then he could come to my Bachelorette for the rest of the evening.
"Are you saying, I get to come and witness the inner workings of multiple fine females as the only male at a Bachelorette party?" hand to his chest, he looked ready to faint. "Will there be pillow fights?" He crossed both his fingers.
"Dude, you're married," Duncan scolded.
"True, but there is certainly no harm in being a bystander. I could pass more pillows, fluff them, hold the underwear?"
"Chill guys, I'm like 99% sure that it will be pillow fight free."
"I live for that 1% Mars."
"And who is to say you will be the only male there?" Mac interrupted "There might be a nice policeman, fireman, postal worker to keep us company with some tasteful dancing."
I screwed up my nose, "Postal worker? Mac, you know how I feel about surprises, please don't surprise me with a Postal worker stripper."
"Yeah, you know she has a thing for men in Navy uniform," Logan quipped.
Duncan just shook his head. Sometimes I wished he would care about the banter. Show a little jealousy. Nope. Not Duncan. He had been conditioned over so many years with this kind of back and forth between us that it barely registered anymore. He believed that his love was all I needed. Always.
He trusted me completely. The truth was, I just never really trusted myself with Logan.
And, of course, Logan was married now. Happily, it seemed. He and Parker had been married for around 18 months after he flew everyone out to Vegas for what he sold as a "weekend of debauchery." That debauchery soon turned into a surprise wedding officiated by a Neil Diamond impersonator. Yes. We were all undoubtedly surprised. Myself, maybe most of all. Perhaps, when Duncan asked me to marry him six months later, it was the push I needed to say "Yes."
Perhaps.
"Will Parker still make it for the wedding?" Duncan asked.
"She's planning on finishing up work tomorrow night and driving down." Logan and Parker lived in Los Angeles now. It was where Parker worked in PR for celebrities, and Logan could be closer to the Northern Los Angeles naval base.
Mac walked up to Logan and handed him a card, "this has the information on the location and things you need to know. Do NOT share this information with the tiny blonde one," she pointed at me, "it is a surprise, and she needs to let go of control for one night and relax and enjoy. See you at 10," She smiled then glared, came close and whispered to me "Don't you dare try to fish information out of him, he is weak to your charms, and you know it."
Logan squinted. Did he hear that?
"See you tonight girls and boy, have a fun night Duncan!" she waved and was out the door.
I glanced at the clock. 10.22.
"I saw that!" Mac mouthed at me across the room. I took another big drink.
We'd been playing bridal games, eating takeout and drinking large cocktails with phallus straws. I was still wearing my toilet paper veil, adorned with beautiful penis stickers across the headband.
Finally, there was a knock at the door. Logan had arrived, clearly already tipsy, animatedly talking to Mac and charming all the girls.
"Do not fear ladies, your entertainment is here!" he announced.
I pulled up next to Mac, "please tell me he is not our stripper."
"Yeah right, you'd really hate that," she looked at me, knowingly.
"Oh shut up," I snapped, "Bygones, he's married now, and I'm getting married, all water under the bridge."
Why, why did I have to tell her about that night at the club and my feelings toward him? It was years ago. Surely she realized I was over it. Because I was. I was.
"The DASHING bride," he appeared beside me, twirling me around. "Stunning! I love the cocks. They bring out your eyes."
I stared at him, parted my mouth, licked my lips and slowly took a long sip from my purple penis straw. He eyed me, challenged.
"How was Duncan's, was anyone shaved and naked yet?"
"No, no, no Miss Mars," He tapped my nose, "What happens at Duncan's Bachelor night stays at Duncan's bachelor night. There most certainly is not a slightly weathered stripper performing questionable tricks in the penthouse involving shaving cream and lighters too close to smoke detectors."
I shuddered.
"I couldn't wait to get out of there," he said through the side of his mouth "Okay, the pillow flights can start now…." He looked around, expectant.
"Nope," Mac passed him a drink with a blue cock straw, "We're going out soon. First, we are going to play one more game, and we need you," she dragged Logan over into the lounge, pressing him up against the wall.
"Are you all going to devour me one by one?" he rubbed his hands together hopefully.
"Nope," Mac pulled his head down and strapped a cardboard mask to his face. He straightened, and we all burst out laughing when we realized it was Duncan's face. Complete with eyes cut out. Rather creepy.
"We're playing pin the dick on Duncan!" Mac announced.
Logan backed up further.
"Relax its not a pin, its just double-sided tape."
"I find this cruel and demeaning," came Logan's muffled voice from behind the mask. But he didn't move. Didn't attempt to take it off. He leaned down and pushed the dickstraw through Duncan's mouth hole and took a drink, settling back.
The girls each took a differently colored penis, all different shapes and sizes and had their turn. They attacked him, blindfolded and spinning, until Logan was adorned with dicks as high as his armpits and as low as his knees. I couldn't stop laughing.
Then, it was my turn. "Okay, finally the bride," Mac motioned over to me, wrapped a scarf over my eyes and handed me my gold glitter penis, largest of them all.
"Go easy Mars," Logan quipped.
She spun me around, which, considering the amount of alcohol in my veins was entirely unnecessary. When Mac straightened me, I struggled to stand still. Arms reached out, I searched for my target. The laughs from everyone grew as I touched the television and missed "Duncan" completely. Mac adjusted me again in the right direction and sent me on my way. I felt out in front of me, a chest. I ran my hands across his broad chest and shoulders, trying to get some perspective of distance. I could hear him breathe.
"Hey," Mac yelled, "No touching! Put out your hand and stick it on."
I put my hand out where I thought the appendage belonged and gently pressed—another breath.
I pulled off my mask as everyone was laughing, clapping and cheering for me. I'd done pretty well. I'd attached it just to the right of his fly… very close. Very, very close.
I was the clear winner.
"And the Bride wins the prize," Says Mac clapping. "A kiss from Duncan."
I could see Logan's cheeks raise under the mask, grinning. I glared at Mac.
"Come-on!" yelled Bianca, "kiss your fiancé."
I turned, stood on the tips of my bare feet, placed my hands on those broad shoulders and kissed the cardboard face mask of Duncan. He leaned in.
Cheers erupted. I rolled my eyes for all to see.
Logan pulled off the mask a little sheepishly and looked down at his body covered by colored penises.
"Okay, everyone get changed. We're going OUT!" Mac announced.
Mac escorted us into the dimly lit club named 'Nights of Arabia' and took us over to a table marked as reserved. Topless waiters presented me with a goblet full of some kind of punch and sat me down at the end of the table in a large golden throne. Classy. I'd thought the pink, flashing sash with BRIDE TO BE on it was the worst. I was wrong.
Logan was looking around mildly horrified as topless waiters passed him a drink. "I think we swapped the times around wrong, I should have done yours first and Duncan's second."
"Too bad, so sad," said Mac and sat him in a chair.
"Not sure if you've noticed Logan, but you're the only male in here. The club is full of women, in skimpy dresses. Not one other guy," said Bianca.
He looked around fascinated.
"You're right, okay I take it back," shuffling back into his chair, making himself comfortable and looking around.
"You're married," I reminded him.
"Yeah, yeah. You will be too in 48 hours … so remember, we can look, but we can't touch," he gestured to the topless waiter beside me, fanning me with a faux palm frond.
The lights dimmed, and the stage illuminated, smoke machines filling it from the sides. Ginuwine's 'Pony' started playing, and four uniformed men burst out onto the stage to maniacal screams from the audience. I grabbed the bottle of vodka in front of me and poured a shot, downing it quickly. Logan picked up his glass and gestured towards me. I filled his up too.
The men danced, they gyrated, they stripped down to g-strings, danced and gyrated some more. A firefighter came onto the stage and grabbed a microphone, "Okay ladies, I hear there are some very special guests here tonight," my heart stopped.
Oh shit.
"Our first lucky lady Veronica Mars I believe, is about to be married, are you out there, Veronica?" He looks into the crowd.
Shit. Shit.
Can I hide under the table?
Everyone at our table started cheering. Logan screamed the loudest, he grabbed my glass and poured another shot, pushing it towards me. I took it, tossed it back, and dragged myself out of my chair and onto the stage.
Mr. Firefighter took my hand and led me to a chair in the center of the stage. I tried to sit carefully. My skirt was very short. I hadn't anticipated this. I shut my eyes. Tight.
"Veronica Mars, tell me," he walked around the chair, "Who is the lucky man?" pushing the Microphone into my face and lifting my hand to the crowd to display my ring.
"Um, Duncan Kane," the crowd cheered again. I wished the stage would sink. I wanted to be devoured by a black hole. Anything.
"Well, Veronica Mars, I'm going to make you forget all about your fiancé," he dropped the microphone, and the music started. He circled me, like prey. Running his hands down my arms, facing the crowd. I could smell his coconut body oil. Thrusting into my sides, gyrating against me with fancy dance moves. I wouldn't look down at my table. I couldn't. This would all be over soon.
He spun me out of the chair and gently laid me on the ground while simulating more different sex positions than I'd ever experienced with Duncan over the years. I tried to cover my eyes. He pulled my hands back and ran them over his rippling muscles instead. I took a breath.
Thankfully the song came to an end, and he finished by picking me up, throwing me over his shoulder and spinning me around. I'm going to vomit.
My underwear is showing, I'm sure of it.
Face hot with embarrassment; I returned to the table. Mac is crying with laughter. "Oh my GOD, Veronica." She holds up her phone, "I got it all on video so you can watch it later," I start to wonder if she is drunker than I am. I put my face in my hands.
I can see in my peripheral vision Logan, back against the chair. Very still. I'm too scared to look at him. I'm mortified. I don't need to hear his comments. Not now.
I pick up the vodka and take a drink straight from the bottle.
"Quite the performance," he quipped. Unsmiling. His eyes are dark
"If you think I enjoyed ANY of that you are kidding yourself," I threw back with venom. How dare he berate me?
"Did you realize everyone could see your underwear?" he asks.
I stand and run for the bathroom.
I try to vomit. I feel so sick. I could stick my fingers down my throat but don't think I have the willpower. I sit on the toilet lid, the room spinning.
"Mars," Logan's voice calls through the open doorway.
"Fuck off," I yell back. "This is the ladies bathroom."
"I'm not coming in. I'm just checking you're okay." He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, I was being an ass."
"Leave me alone!" I yell, and the door closes.
I stay for five minutes and try to calm myself. I'm embarrassed. I'm drunk. I don't want to go back out there.
When I open the bathroom door, he's there, waiting for me, leaning against the wall.
"Wanna get some fresh air?"
I nod.
We walk down the street a little until we are out of earshot of the security guards.
Logan is looking down. He runs his fingers through his hair, frustrated, nervous. "I'm sorry, I know you were embarrassed. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I wasn't mad at you. I was mad at the situation."
I don't know what to say.
"I just didn't like it," he thinks, "I didn't like watching that. At all."
What does that mean?
"You're my oldest friend Veronica, and I hate to watch you demeaned, embarrassed. I wanted to stop it, but I realize it's all supposed to be fun. I'm sorry, I overreacted."
He's searching for words. I want to confront him.
"You're not my protector," I say. His eyes bore directly into mine, and he steps towards me.
"I am well aware of that Veronica, thank you for the reminder."
"You're married," I am baiting him now. I point to my flashing BRIDE sash. I'm playing with fire. Another step closer.
"So you keep reminding me." Hand to his chin, "Or are you reminding yourself?"
I keep quiet.
"Can I tell you something?" he asks. I feel like the question is loaded. Very loaded.
I nod, trying very hard to steady myself against the wall.
"Are you sure you want to know?" he is testing the waters, stalking closer.
I nod, not quite as sure this time.
"I maybe, once upon a time, used to have some no so friendly feelings towards you, so sometimes those memories can come back a little and cloud my judgment" I feel my throat constrict.
Did he really just say that?
"By not so friendly, you mean?"
"I didn't want so much to be friends as… more than friends."
I don't know what to say. I can't breathe. He is so fucking close.
"Did you ever feel the same?" he asks.
He is testing me. My mind instantly goes back to the night on the dancefloor, his body up against mine. The heat. I press my thighs together.
"Maybe," vodka makes me bold.
His eyes smile, then shift. Hungry.
"You're getting married in 2 days," he holds up two fingers.
"So you keep reminding me, or are you trying to remind yourself?" I turn his words against him and point to my 'bride to be' sash again.
He rolls his eyes.
I'm drunk. I'm standing in the street with a man I really shouldn't be alone with. He's flirting. I'm flirting.
Bad. Idea. Veronica.
It's that inexplicable connection. It zaps like electricity all around us. When Logan's not around, I start to doubt it, chalk it up to my mind conjuring imagined feelings. Then I'm with him and there is no questioning it. It's there. It's in his every move. He feels it too.
Thankfully, Mac appears next to us grabbing my wrist and glaring at Logan who instantly steps back, "What the fuck guys? I've been looking for you everywhere," she seems genuinely concerned.
"Sorry, I just needed some air," Mac stares straight through me.
"No offense," she puts her hand up toward Logan and points "but you're the last person she should be outside getting fresh air with."
Logan doesn't dispute it and falls back against the wall.
We rode back to my apartment in a cab. Mac passed out on the seat, head on my shoulder. Logan had her shoes in his hands, playing absentmindedly with the buckle.
I was sobering up quickly.
After Mac dragged us back inside, I made an effort to keep a bit more distance between us. We all danced on the dancefloor with the strippers. We drank, we sang Whitney Huston's "Wanna dance with somebody" at the top of our lungs. Despite the earlier hiccup, we relaxed. We had fun.
But the night drawing to a close meant that one more hurdle to the big day was over. It was coming towards me like a steam train with no brakes, and I couldn't slow it down.
It was happening. I was getting married.
I was excited. Scared. Sure, everyone had second thoughts before they got married, didn't they? Duncan was a great guy. He was the only guy I'd ever been with, the only person I'd ever had to gauge a relationship with. Every first we had was supposed to be our last. So what that he didn't know how to fold clothes properly, would make strange noises while he chewed, wasn't quite as tall and as broad as certain gentlemen? We were going to be happy. It was going to be great.
Logan and I poured Mac into the spare bed, I left a glass of water and aspirin on her bedside and tucked her in.
I headed to the linen closet and took out some of the blankets and handed them to Logan in the lounge. He took off his shirt and lay on the couch, snuggling under a blanket.
"Night," he called out as I reached the hallway.
I didn't respond.
I checked the clock again "4:00" turned and tried to get comfortable for the fiftieth time. I thought I heard a noise. It was probably just the couple in the apartment next door.
I turned and grabbed my phone, scrolling through for a distraction. Some of my friends had sent through pictures from the night. Lots of blurry shots of me, strippers, Mac, drinks, Logan wearing a Duncan mask covered in colorful cocks. I threw my phone down onto the bed.
Nope.
Tiptoeing through the hallway, I took my glass for a refill. As I passed the couch in the darkness, I could see the outline of his sleeping form.
Filling the glass to the brim from the fridge tap, I turned and stopped.
Logan stood in the doorway.
"Can't sleep?"
I shook my head. I wasn't sure he could even see me. I could barely see him in the darkness.
But I could feel him there, his presence, filling the room.
More silence.
Then, I heard him exhale, long and deep.
And like magic, he was suddenly in front of me. Close. In my space.
I didn't retreat.
His head dipped down towards me, and Logan's lips were on mine. So insistent and hungry. I pressed myself towards him, permitting him to deepen the kiss.
It was eager and messy. It was divine. I was sure I'd never in my life been kissed like this; it was something entirely new to me. My legs started to give out from under me.
One arm circled my waist and the other in my hair as we devoured each other's mouths.
He pushed me against the fridge. I could feel the magnets pressing into my spine. Magnets Duncan bought from the cities he'd visited. His hand is under my shirt, deliciously hot against my skin, tracing the underside of my breast.
A soft moan from my lips pours into his mouth and, in response, his fingers encircle my nipple.
Blackness.
He is pressed against me, so much heat. He smells of the ocean and vodka.
I try to crawl up him. I need to be closer. My legs wrap around him, using the fridge as leverage. His arms move and hands grab my thighs firmly, pressing hard, all of it long and hard, right there at my core.
The magnets behind me dislodge and fall to the floor loudly.
We suddenly pause, shocked by the noise. I open my mouth, Logan's fingers press against my lips, quieting me. We both gasp for air in ragged breaths. I listen for any sound of Mac.
Nothing.
He lifts me and carries me, legs still wrapped him into my room. He gently lays me on the bed then goes back and closes the door silently.
He's back, whispering into my ear "not a sound," he grins into my neck and kisses me from my ear to my collarbone. It's easy for him to say, my heaving breaths can't be controlled.
The truth was, I was afraid.
Afraid that Mac would hear.
Afraid that he'd come to his senses and back away, out of loyalty to Duncan.
Afraid that he would stop.
"Veronica," he murmurs against my ear, breaking the fever of his kisses
I can't form a coherent sentence, "mmmm."
"I'm not sure I know how to stop this," he is pained.
"Good," I pull him back against me, hard. Forcing his lips back against mine, he doesn't fight back. My body is aching for him, for this Logan. Here, with me right here, right now. And if I only get him for one night, I am going make the most of it.
My bra is gone, hanging off my dresser. His pants are gone, piled on the floor.
He's inside me, and I fall apart. I tilt my hips to invite him further, and it's frantic. Desperate. We are clinging to each other, grasping. I don't want it to end but, I can't hold myself back. Brown eyes bore into mine. He barely blinks above me.
I'm sure he can feel my urgency; there is no need for build-up. I'm already there. I'm on the edge.
Then he moans, "Oh God, Veronica," and I'm done. Spent. Crashing down like years of pent up frustration and longing. His hands cover my open, gasping mouth to try and silence me.
When I open my eyes, he's there. The sun is up. I hadn't even closed my blinds.
I cover my face imagining how I must look after a night like that. His eyes are smiling at me. I can smell the sex in the air. It's making me heady.
"Morning," he quips.
"Morning."
"You look just as beautiful in the morning as I imagined."
I roll my eyes and pretend to gag. "Yeah, I'm sure it's a real treat." I sit up to smooth my hair back and wipe under my eyes, and he pulls me back, back to the bed. The bed where good things happened. And bad things. He's over me and devouring me with his eyes.
"How is your head?" he queries. He's testing to water to see how drunk I was.
"Fine, I had well and truly sobered up by bedtime."
He smiles widely, "Good, me too."
So. We've established that this appears to have been a reasonably sober consensual rendezvous. Can't blame it on drunk insanity.
Although I was sure, I was insane. I was lying naked in bed, with my fiancé's best friend one day before my wedding and I was happy. Clearly, I'd gone mad.
His fingers are tracing circles on my hipbone. It's making it very hard to think.
"So…"
"Do we really need to ruin this morning by talking?" he asked, hungrily.
"Unfortunately, I think we might need to. We have some time constraints here. Mac might already be awake. We can't stay like this."
He pulls his hand away, nodding sadly.
"So this is it?" he asks, sadness in his tone.
I sigh.
"I don't know. I have to think. This is a lot to process." I roll out of bed and start putting on underwear and trying to locate a shirt. He lays back, sheet low on his hips, hands behind his head. I wonder if this move is trying to lure me back.
"Are you trying to tell me, Veronica Mars, that you never imagined this possibility? That somehow this never crossed your mind? That this is a new concept to process?"
I roll my eyes. He waits.
"Maybe," I pull a shirt over my head, "But I never expected that it would actually happen. Especially not the day before my fucking wedding," just saying it made me feel a little sick.
"So you're still getting married then?" his head cocks to the side.
"You're kidding, right? Of course, I'm still getting married. YOU'RE MARRIED!" I yell.
His hands quickly gesture to keep it down. I momentarily forgot Mac was in the spare room down the hall.
I'm searching around the room, finding his clothes and throwing them towards him. He reluctantly starts getting dressed. His eyes are suddenly shadowed. He stays silent for a while, buttons his pants and stands in front of me, challenging.
"What are we going to do here Veronica?" He sighs. His eyes are sad, sincere. Desperate for an answer.
My head is scrambling. For answers, for a sign. Of course, this is what I've wanted for years. But how do you throw everything away, throw Duncan away, everything in my life away? For what? One night? Entirely on a whim, for a married man?
It was madness.
"Veronica," Mac knocks at the door.
We freeze.
"One minute!" I call out.
"Wait here," I mouth to him. He just shakes his head. "Please," I beg.
I leave the room, heading to the kitchen to meet Mac and debrief on the evening. Of course, I don't mention what happened between Logan and I, not yet anyway. It's too fresh. After pouring a coffee I tell Mac I need to get my phone from the room and when I arrive, it's empty.
He's gone.
And he doesn't return. Not for the rehearsal dinner. Not for the wedding. My texts go unread, my calls unanswered.
So, I married Duncan. On the 23rd of July as planned, minus one best friend who was unexpectedly called back for duty.