Chapter Thirteen

It was 5:30am and Veronica was already up and pacing, phone in hand. Every lap or two she'd stop, click her cell to the contacts section, and let her thumb hover over the glaring green letters that spelled LOGAN. Would he be surprised that she had his number? She doubted it. He knew her too well to think she'd be anything but informed of whatever she wished to be informed of and he'd see right through any excuse she came up with for why she wanted to know how to reach him.

She sighed and started pacing again. She didn't know where he lived now but she knew she could find out easily enough. The problem with that idea was the elusive pop star girlfriend. Would she be there with him? She frowned at the thought, various images of him leaving or entering hotel rooms with Kendall passing across her mind's eye. She never wanted to be placed in that situation again. No, she couldn't possibly go see him without an invitation.

Could she call, though? She looked at the time. No. There wasn't a chance in hell he'd be awake and she knew from experience that waking him for a serious discussion was never a good idea. What should she do, then? She had to talk to him, had to see him, and this could most definitely NOT wait. She stopped as she decided on which communication method she should attempt first.

She leaned back against her dresser and hit the envelope by Logan's name rather than the phone. Immediately, she began typing out a text to him that read simply: Can we talk? - V. Taking a deep breath and holding it, she closed her eyes a moment and then rallied her courage to hit send. She watched as the little icon circled to show that it was working. She nearly hit end and chickened out but then it was too late. She exhaled slowly and thought to herself, 'Let the waiting begin.'

On another side of town, in a house right along the beach and very close to the pier, Logan stood near his window, dressed only in his boxers. His hair was mussed with sleep and sex, his hands loosely resting at his hips as he stared out at the shore. It was 5:30am and the sun was beginning to rise but he had barely slept.

He glanced back at the dark-haired beauty in his bed, then back out the window with a troubled and guilt-laden gaze. He was about to go grab his wetsuit and gear to catch a few waves as the new day dawned but the sound of something vibrating from the nightstand on his side of the bed stopped him short. Swiftly and silently, he went to grab the phone. Had a voicemail or text just come through from the night before or was someone else actually just as awake as he was at this ungodly hour?

Seeing it was a text from an unknown number, he opened it to see what it was about. It could have been from any number of people: one of the new staff members at the Casa, a new or future resident even, but somehow he wasn't surprised when he saw it was from none of the above but rather an old flame that was obnoxiously and insistently attempting to rekindle in his soul. Impulsively, he texted in response: 'Meet me at Dog Beach. 7am. See you then.'

Suddenly energized, he left Carrie a note that read: 'Surfing before I talk with Veronica. Bitch at me later.' Once it was left on her bedside table, he silently sprinted from the room and down to the truck to check his gear. After making sure he had everything he'd need, he swung himself into the driver's seat and spun the tires as he squealed back out his driveway and into the early morning traffic on the PCH. Reaching Dog Beach nearly an hour ahead of schedule, he suited up and set out to surf his stress away.

When Veronica received his return text, it was just the beginning of anxiety for her. Could she really do this? Should she? Finally, when she was all done debating, she decided with determination that she must. She showered and dressed with care, ate a hearty breakfast and then casually walked out the door after calling over her shoulder loud enough that she had no doubt that her father heard, "Dad! I'll be down at the beach!"

Her footsteps betrayed her, rushing and skipping before she reprimanded them and forced them to slow. She couldn't look too eager, too interested, she told herself. She needed to play it cool, she thought, and heard herself telling that same thing to Wallace any number of years ago: 'Be cool, Soda Pop.' Her words then had been in regards to an encounter with the infamous Logan Echolls as well. How was it, she wondered, that everything and nothing had changed all at the same time?

Automatically, her eyes went to the waves when she reached the sand. The breeze whipped her hair across her face and she stuffed her hands in the pockets of her pink hoodie jacket as she moved toward the surf and continued to search. She picked him out in no time flat and couldn't have stopped the warm smile that edged her coral lip-glossed mouth if she'd tried. She stood watching him awhile until she was sure he'd seen her and then made her way toward the towels she was certain held his things.

Soon enough, he made his way toward her, ruffling his hair to help it dry and staking his surfboard in the sand. Casually, he flopped down on the towel next to her and gave her a grin. "Hey," he said as he caught his breath.

She turned toward him and was helpless to do anything but grin back, even giving him her famous head tilt as she said in return, "Hey yourself."

There was a pregnant pause between them for several long moments before Veronica finally nodded toward the surfboard and then looked back at him, commenting smoothly, "It's good to see that at least some things don't change."

"And just as good to know that others do," he remarked back as if finishing her sentence. Then he quirked a serious, searching, contemplative stare at her and asked point blank, "Have you changed, Veronica?"

Hearing her name on his lips again caused her heart to flip and miss a beat. Subconsciously, she bit her lower lip and held his gaze before answering, "I hope I have."

They were silent again for awhile, this time looking out at the waves as if the ocean held all the answers to life, love, and everything. Finally, Veronica turned to Logan and said quietly, "I'm sorry, Logan. For everything I put you through. For being a self-righteous bitch and for leaving the way I did."

He searched her eyes, studied her face, took in her sincerity before he responded in a soft baritone of his own, "I forgave you years ago, Veronica," he paused to let the truth of his words sink into her consciousness before he added with the tantalizing ghost of a smile, "It's nice to hear you say, though."

She pursed her lips and gave him a playful glare but said gamely, "I deserved that." To which he replied with a cocky grin, "Yes, you did." And caused her to punch him in the shoulder mirthfully. He took the hit and played it up, pretending she hit a lot harder than she had as he rubbed the shoulder and fell back on the towel groaning as if in pain.

Rolling her eyes at him, she leaned in so she was hovering about eighteen inches from his face, making sure she could both scrutinize his injury and look him in the eye at the same time. Her blue eyes danced with laughter as she said scornfully, "Please, as if that could possibly hurt you after all the other things I've done to ruin your life."

Having her above him like that brought back a rush of memories and emotions that were impossible to suppress. Without thinking, he reached for her as if by reflex and pulled her down for a friendly kiss. When their lips touched, Veronica jerked away as if a jolt of electricity sparked a flame that had lain dormant for far too long.

He let her end the kiss but he didn't allow her to leave his arms. Instead, he nestled her against his frame, settling her head in the crevice between his shoulder and his clavicle. She inhaled deeply and relaxed, bringing her left arm to his torso, her left hand to rest on his chest.

"I've missed you," she said wistfully before trying to adjust her position to see his face as she stated imploringly, "I heard you're with someone."

"I am," he agreed with a facetious nod, "I'm with you."

She chuckled and smacked his chest lightly, "Stop it. I mean other than me," she sobered and added, "I saw the headline when I was in New York."

"Ah, the tabloids," Logan mocked with chagrin, "Did they at least shoot my good side for a change?"

"Actually, they didn't have a picture of you at all," Veronica commented with a smile, "Apparently you don't warrant a close-up anymore, but your girlfriend does. A pop star, huh?" she asked, leaving it a rather open-ended question.

"Surprisingly, yes," Logan answered, adjusting his head to try to look at her as he said, "Bonnie De Ville, a.k.a Carrie Bishop." He held his breath and waited, knowing the name would cause a reaction.

He was not disappointed. Veronica pushed up on one elbow to look down at him incredulously, blurting out, "Does that mean that she's changed as much as you have?!"

The fact that her first words were those rather than something entirely different and much less flattering made Logan chuckle with relief. He grinned and answered with a non-committal, "Maybe." Then he explained, "She heard about Casa de Caring and approached me about helping out. It wouldn't be off the ground now if it weren't for her. Hoping she'll be 'The Face of Caring'," he said in an overly enthusiastic commercial-like tone.

"I'm impressed," Veronica said, sounding only slightly sardonic and mostly sincere before she pushed herself up on an elbow again to look down into the endless liquid brown depths of his fabulous eyes, "Tell me more about this Casa."

"Well," he began, "I needed a purpose and I found one. The Casa was an idea that hit me while I was surfing. Dick had made some offhanded Dick remark about 'Casa de Killer' and it nagged at me. I couldn't shake it. So I did what I always do when I need time to think. I came out to surf. By the time I was ready to hit the shore, I had the outline worked over in my head."

"So how's it work?" Veronica asked curiously, now lounging with her arms propping her on his chest so she could watch his face as he talked.

"A lot of that is still getting worked out," Logan explained with a smirk, "Right now, we're limited because not many people know about us. Mac's been helping me design a brochure. Dick and Wallace are trying to convince me to go personally to the local schools and offer to speak about the program and my experience but I don't know. I'd rather have Carrie be our spokesperson, keep me in the background."

Veronica looked down at him thoughtfully and said, "You know, you could be a motivational speaker at the schools without giving examples, or at least without saying that any of the examples are you or I."

Logan looked sheepish and vulnerable as he gave her a crooked half-smile, "You always could see right through me, couldn't you, Mars?"

Grinning down at him as she ruffled his hair fondly, she said, "Right back at you, Echolls," and this time it was Veronica who dropped her lips lightly to his before quickly sitting up and rolling away from him. "Time to head back to our regularly scheduled programming, I'm afraid," she quipped as she reached a hand down to help him up.

He ignored the hand as far as getting up was concerned but took it in his and gave it a squeeze before grabbing his things. "Thanks for texting me, Veronica. It's nice to know you've still got my number," he smirked, waggling his brows at her to belie his double meaning.

She laughed and shook her head, "It's nice to know that you still come a'runnin' when I call," she jeered back before changing it haughtily, "Excuse me, when I text." She coughed comically to clear her throat before saying with a gleam in her eye and the edges of her mouth twitching in a smile, "Oh yeah, you're welcome," she added as she ambled off, making a show of her lack of concern with speed.

Logan watched her go, chuckling softly as he shook his head and let out a low whistle of appreciation as his gaze narrowed in on her backside. "Hate to see you go, love to watch you leave," he murmured in admiration before dumping his gear in the truck, jumping in, and spinning the wheels out as he headed for home.