Thank you all for your reviews, I love hearing what you guys think! And I apologize for my typos & grammatical mistakes -nothing bothers me more in a story than that- but I just can't seem to get rid of all of mine...
Logan Huntzberger had the perfect life until his fiancée walked out on him. When she suddenly reenters his life again, Logan and his best friend, Rory, come up with a brilliant plan. But, when the plan works better than they ever could imagine, it could mean more than they all bargained for.
OoOoOoOo
The light, freezing rain spattered against Logan's car windshield as he drove through the streets that were still crowded with cars. It had been months since he'd been out at this hour. The second that thought crossed his mind, he pushed it away again. Thinking about that time, about her, only brought a picture of the couple currently occupying his couch.
His car streaked through the streets. Deftly he crossed two lanes of traffic, turned onto a side street, and then into a parking space in front of Rory's apartment. Pulling the collar of the shirt he wore up, he ran up to the door and buzzed 217.
"Ace, I'm here," he said the instant the speaker crackled to life.
"Come on up," she said.
He pushed into the warmth of the small lobby and headed for the stairs. It was true he had never been here before, and in a few seconds, Rory opened the door with a smile.
"Hello, you," she said as though his visit was nothing out of the ordinary.
"Hi," he said, ducking in embarrassment as his toe made circles at their feet.
Her face creased in concern. "Where's your coat? You're soaked."
"It was downstairs," Logan said simply.
"Here." She took hold of his arm and pulled him into the apartment. "Take your shirt off; I'll throw it in the dryer. At least the top of you can be semi-dry." Without waiting for his protest, she walked into her kitchen. "You want coffee or hot chocolate."
"Hot chocolate. I don't have the Gilmore tolerance for late night coffee," he said, shrugging out of the shirt.
"I've got apple cider, too, if you want that."
He held up the shirt as it dripped onto her carpet. "Actually that sounds good."
"Okay."
The cup in the kitchen clinked when it touched the cabinet followed in seconds by the slam of the microwave door.
"Oh, here," Rory said, holding a hand out for the shirt as she walked back into the room.
He stood there awkwardly in his sleeveless t-shirt, and when she took his shirt from him, he jammed his hands into his pockets. She disappeared down the hallway, and he heard the dryer start. In seconds, she was back.
"There's a blow-dryer in the bathroom," she said when she came back. She pointed back down the hallway hesitantly.
"Oh, no, I'm fine," he said never quite meeting her gaze as he ran his hand through his thoroughly saturated hair.
"Yeah, okay. Well you could sit down." She pointed to the couch and then back into the kitchen when the microwave dinged. "I'll just be…"
He nodded as she turned for the kitchen. In trepidation, he looked at the couch, and although it was old, he had to admit it looked much more stylish than his yellow one. He sat down, hoping his pants wouldn't soak the fabric.
"Here you go," she said, returning with a cup of steaming apple cider. At the chair, she stopped and turned on the television. Carefully she handed him the cup and then smiled softly. "You need anything?"
"Umm." He looked down at himself and closed his eyes wondering how he'd gotten here. This was a far cry from the Yale Logan. "No, I think I'm good."
She nodded, and the look in her eyes said she knew he wasn't. "There's an afghan…if you're cold. You like the classics?"
"Whatever," he said with a shrug as he relaxed into the softness of her couch and pulled the soft blanket over his still-wet skin. He took a sip of the red liquid and slowly its warmth spread through his body.
With no other questions, she curled into her chair as Fred Astaire and Ginger Rodgers danced across her television screen.
OoOoOoO
When the movie was over at two o'clock, Rory looked over at him, and her heart took its little skyward trip. He didn't look comfortable, but he was still absolutely gorgeous. The muscles of his arms and chest flowed with each breath, and for one moment, she allowed herself to fantasize about curling up in those arms and sleeping there all night.
The television announcer came on startling her back into reality, and with one flick the television went silent, but he never moved. Softly she stood, picked up his cup, and took it to the kitchen. She rinsed it out and set it in the drainer. Her hand brushed the light as she walked back into the living room, and suddenly the room was plunged into darkness except for the small shafts of light from outside her window.
Noiselessly she made her way down the hallway to the closet where she pulled out another afghan her mother had given her. She ran a loving hand over it and then walked back down the hallway, feeling his presence in her place as though it was actually palpable.
At the couch, she unfurled the afghan and gently laid it across him. When she tucked it in behind him, he stirred, and for a moment, she thought he might wake up. But then he went still again, and she stood, simply enjoying the opportunity to watch him sleep. With his cheek resting on his hand, he looked like his whole life was absolutely perfect.
"Goodnight, Logan," she whispered to the darkness. "You'll get through his. I promise."
And then although she didn't want to, she turned back down the hallway to her own room.
OoOoOoOo
Logan awoke to the sound of the coffee pot beeping the next morning and then he heard her footsteps in the kitchen. Slowly he stretched and yawned. He certainly hadn't meant to go to sleep, but somehow when the strain from the night before had dropped away, he hadn't had the strength to stay awake
Silently he stood as the maroon and blue afghan fell to the floor at his feet. With a grateful smile, he picked it up and folded it before laying it on the couch. For a second his hand stayed on it, feelings its warmth again. Then he straightened the other one across the back of the couch and leaned onto the doorframe sheepishly, not knowing how to thank her for the night before. "Morning."
"Morning," she said, smiling brightly. "You hungry?"
He shrugged and the noticed the box of donuts sitting in the middle of the table. "Crawlers?"
"Just for you," she said, pouring the coffee into two mugs and bringing them to the table as he sat down. She set the cups on the table and sat down for a split second before jumping up again.
His gaze followed her up and over to the refrigerator where she pulled a small carton out. Without looking at him, she brought it back to the table and set it down next to his cup.
In confusion, he picked it up, opened it, a poured a little cream into his coffee. "I thought you didn't like cream. Something about it ruining a perfect cup of coffee."
"I don't," she said, sitting down and glancing at him only once, "but you do."
The gratitude washed over him like warm cider on a cold, bleak night. "I should tell you thanks for last night," he said as he reached for a pastry. "I don't know what I would've done without you."
She shrugged. "That's part of being a friend." Her hands wrapped around her coffee cup as she examined the coffee it held. "So, what are you going to do?"
He fingered his own cup and shook his head. "I don't know. I mean it's not illegal for him to date her. They're adults and free adults at that."
"So you're not going to tell him?"
He sighed as the futility of the situation crowded in around him again. "I don't see how that would help anything." He shrugged. "I can't forbid him to see her."
"But how are you going to deal with that? Her in your apartment? You can't keep climbing down the fire escape every time she decides to visit. Sooner or later, you're going to have to face her."
"Yeah," Logan said, not looking forward to that meeting at all. Then he smiled hopefully. "Maybe they'll break up, and I won't have to worry about it."
Rory cocked her head as her face registered annoyance.
"I know wishful thinking," he said softly.
"I'll say." She shook her head as she took a drink. "You could always move."
"Move?" he asked sarcastically. "Where?"
"I don't know." She took another drink as the smile spread across her face. "I'm sure if you ask around, someone must be looking."
He smiled at the reference as his gaze dropped back to his near-empty cup. She was teasing; there was no need for an answer.
They sat in silence, lost in their thoughts as the morning sun streamed into the kitchen. Despite the worrisome thoughts about his own apartment, he leaned back in his chair enjoying the fact that for this moment, life seemed utterly normal and not at all complicated.
Here in her kitchen, he was just Logan, she was just Rory, and they were just friends. For the moment, it was all he wanted from life.
OoOoOo
An hour later standing in the middle of her living room, he slipped into the shirt she handed him. The warmth of it just coming out of the dryer cycle she said would take the wrinkles out wrapped around him. He sighed as he closed the distance between them and laid his hands on her shoulders. "Thank you. You're the best friend a guy could ever ask for."
"Anytime," she said not meeting his gaze.
Gratefully he folded her into the warmth of his shirt and laid his cheek on her hair. "If you ever need anyone, I'm here for you. Okay?"
"Okay," she said softly into his shirt, and they stood like that for one more moment. Then his hands pulled her shoulders back again. He stared into the blue of her eyes as his hand reached up and smoothed out her straight hair. "You take care."
"You too," she said, totally unable to look away from him.
He smiled and nodded. Then his hands dropped from her shoulders and he took a hesitant step back from her. "I'll see you Monday?"
"Monday," she said with a nod.
"Okay," he said, backing to the door. "Monday." Clumsily he grabbed the doorknob and wrenched the door open before escaping into the hallway. Once the door had closed behind him, he leaned on it as his heart pounded in his chest. "It's just the mess at home. It's making me crazy."
Defiantly he pushed away from her door and took the steps down quickly. The sunshine outside was as warm as November sunshine gets. The puddles on the sidewalk were the only reminder of the gloomy rain-sleet storm the night before. That and the dull trepidation in his heart as he thought about going back to his apartment. Sooner or later, he had to face it… or move. He smiled at that thought even as Rory's smile crossed back through his mind.
OoOoOo
It seemed like forever had passed before Rory was able to regain enough sanity to move from the center of her living room again. Her hands wrapped around her arms as the electricity from his touch reverberated through her. If only this wasn't about him needing a shelter. If only it was for real.
Lost in the tight grip of the trance his eyes and touch had caught her in, she turned for the kitchen and picked up his cup from the table. She remembered the first time she had seen him at Yale. His smirk as she met him at the coffee cart with his arm around a blonde girl. They had never dated at Yale; Rory was unwilling to put herself on his list. And then the shock to find they were both working at the Courier after graduation. He had come to her rescue that time. That memory brought a smile to her face. She'd only been at work two days when it happened, and already her desk was stacked two feet high with papers and notes until it was becoming clear that she might never see the light of day again.
And then, the unthinkable. When they'd given her the cubicle, no one had bothered to mention the fact that one leg of the desk was holding on by only one splinter. She could still see her chair turning, the arm catching the edge of the desk as it probably had a million times since then but with one sickening thud a cascade of paper, pens, monitor and keyboard had slid away from her.
In her ears her own screams still echoed as the lunged for the computer and found herself sliding halfway down the desk until she was draped over it, clutching the gray box with absolutely no way to get up.
He was the first one there and she couldn't remember ever being so glad to see anyone in her entire life. Right there as he helped regain her balance and pick up the river of papers and computer parts scattered across her office, she knew he was the one. Like a lightening bolt, she knew, and she had spent every waking moment since then trying to convince herself that it was only the relief at being rescued by him that made her heart feel like it did.
To love someone meant that they felt the same way and he obviously didn't. The picture of him sleeping on her couch the night before flashed through her mind as she picked up the folded blue and maroon afghan from the couch cushions. With one breath, she pushed that thought away. It was enough to be his friend. That's all he wanted and she would be happy with that. She had to. She had no choice.
OoOoOoOo
"You just getting home?" Brian asked from the stairs before following Logan into the kitchen the second he walked through the door.
"Umm, yeah," Logan said off-handedly, running a hand through his now-dry hair as he walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door.
"Chinese food girl?" Brian asked, leaning against the cabinet expectantly.
Logan didn't answer; instead, he reached into the refrigerator and moved the jelly out of the way. "I was thinking about going to the store later." He pulled the milk carton out and poured himself a glass before putting it back. "If you need anything, I can pick it up."
"You're going to have to introduce me sometime," Brian said with a knowing smile.
"She's just a friend," Logan said with a shrug.
"Yeah, a friend you spent the whole night with."
"Well, how about you?" Logan asked before he thought better of it. "How was your date?"
The instant he sat down in the living room chair, he wished he had simply taken his milk to his room and found something to do there. Nonchalantly he picked up the remote and punched the button, liking the noise of the television. For good measure, he turned it up two notches.
"Good," Brian said, seeming to jump into the black hole of memories with the word. "I'm taking her out to the Max tonight."
"Oh, that's nice."
Spaceships raced across the television screen, their jet drafts drowning out all other sounds and rendering any further conversation pointless.
OoOoOo
Logan thought about calling Rory, but he couldn't lean on her shoulder every night. One way or another, he was going to have to do this on his own. Brian had left several hours before, and since then, Logan had watched television until his mind was mush.
Fighting the depression threatening to overtake him, he grabbed his coat and headed outside. He wasn't going anywhere really – just away from the emptiness of his life.
The night was clear and cold and the lights of the surrounding buildings cut through he darkness like a knife. There was no such thing as a pitch-black night in the city, and for that, he was thankful. There was enough pitch-blackness in his heart to go around.
His feet kicked down the sidewalk, and he pulled the old, brown bomber jacket closer. As he let his thoughts drift, he was surprised to find them trip over Rory instead of Brian and his date. He smiled at the thought of her. A picture of her draped helplessly over her desk waltzed across his mind, and he laughed.
She never ceased to make him smile even through the whole ordeal of losing Mandy…Mandy. He smashed into the name and his eyes closed against the pain. Rory was right. If he didn't get out and find himself a life, he was simply going to wither up in the pain and die.
With that thought, he turned his steps up the street. It was time to get on with his life. With or without Mandy.
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