Chapter Text
“I wish you would take this seriously, Logan. You can’t keep giving them the slip.” Lynn Echolls rubs her temple for the umpteenth time.
Her son looks skyward. “Just because I don’t want two men standing outside my penthouse or following me into the John, doesn’t mean I’m not taking this seriously.”
Lynn gives an exasperated sigh and purses her lips together, leaning forward on the stuffy designer couch in her sitting room. “Cliff says these guys are good. I understand it’s inconvenient, hunny, but—”
“Inconvenient, mom?” Logan throws up his arms, rolling his eyes. How does she not get it? “They’re smothering. It's embarrassing. I get so many questions and looks. I’m thirty-one fucking years old, I can handle myself.”
“Not against Aaron, you can’t.” Lynn places a hand on Logan’s knee. “He somehow swindled his way out on bail—despite the high bond price—because of his connections. He won’t be getting to trial for months. He’s even more dangerous now than he was when you were at home, because he’s doing it from a distance, keeping his hands clean.”
“We don’t even know if those were his people,” Logan repeats yet again.
“Logan.” Lynn shakes her head, like she does whenever he brings this up. “Who else would it be? The timing is too suspect to be coincidence. He’s not happy about what you said. You need to drop it, and let the bodyguards do their job.”
“When does it end? You don’t think he can still get to us from behind bars?” Logan sits up, seizing the opportunity. “Don’t you think people deserve to know who he is? If I release the statement and testify, he would finally—”
“I said”—her whispered voice wobbles—”drop it, please.”
Logan rubs the back of his neck, counting down the minutes until he can go to Dick’s and turn to his friend Jack for a little help. Using alcohol to numb shit is a better trait than being a perverted murderer, which are genes he seems to have narrowly avoided.
“Listen, mom. I love you, and I don’t want you to worry, which is why I relented. But I only agreed to this if they didn’t get in my way, so this really isn’t working for me…”
Logan makes to leave, but his mom grabs his arm to keep him at the couch. “The biggest issue is that you feel they are too conspicuous, right?”
“If you mean Dumb and Dumber stick out like a sore thumb? Yes.”
Lynn rolls her shoulders back, raising her chin. “Then sayonara to them. I have a better idea.”
Disbelieving, Logan raises his brows. “And what, pray tell, is this ‘better idea?’”
“A woman,” Lynn shares, glint in her eye. “In regular clothes. She’ll blend in, but you’ll still be protected.”
“Not sure switching from big, burly men to a big, burly woman is going to change much,” Logan says, curious as to his mother’s plans.
“Trust me.” Lynn smiles, relieved, and… Logan hasn’t seen her smile in a long time. “There was one woman I met when I went to see Cliff. Very capable, very impressive. I think you’d like her.”
The tone of his mom’s voice puts Logan on edge. “Why do I feel like I just got roped into one of your schemes?”
“Well, the paps and everyone who sees you together won’t suspect a thing…” Lynn eyes him, grinning. “They’ll assume she’s your girlfriend!”
“What?”
“It’s perfect! You’ll still be safe, but to an outsider—Logan Echolls has a new girlfriend? No news there!”
Ouch. “Gee, thanks mom. But why would anyone believe—”
“Trust me, honey. I’ve got it covered.” Lynn sits back, signaling the end of the conversation.
Happy to have his mom off his back, even if there was no way this plan would work, he quickly agrees. “Whatever. Tell Cliff to send her to the condo tomorrow. I’m going to Dick’s.”
Before she can ask him not to give the slip to Thing 1 and Thing 2 tonight, he bolts out of his mother’s mansion, saluting her own bodyguards at the front.
Logan stumbles into his ensuite bathroom the next morning, bleary eyed, head pounding. Jack wasn’t very good to him last night. He pops open the lid of the Tylenol bottle and rockets two extra strength tablets to the back of his mouth, swallowing dry. He’s picked up a few hangover talents over the years.
His penthouse’s doorbell rings, sending a stabbing sensation through his brain. The shrill sound continues, as he cradles his head in his hands.
“I’m coming!” he shouts, weakly, even though they most likely can’t hear him.
Smoothing strands of hair that stick up at all angles, he grabs the shirt he wore last night off the floor beside his bed and sniffs it. Ugh. It’ll have to do.
Staggering down the stairs to the main area while doing up the buttons, he is blinded by the light streaking through. God damn floor to ceiling windows.
When the chime sounds again, he groans. The only person who would dare to ring the doorbell this early would be the new bodyguard who doesn’t know better. He turns off the alarm system, opening all the locks on the door. What a dumb idea. Curse his need to humour his mother. Who the hell was going to buy Helga or Bertha as his girlfriend? Come on, he has a type, and—
It’s standing right in front of him in dark jeans and a blue blouse.
“You’re staring.”
Logan blinks a few times, closing the jaw that dropped reflexively. “Sorry, you’re just... not what I was expecting.”
“Funny,” she says, as though it’s anything but. “I hear that a lot.”
She pushes her way through the threshold, and Logan stands there for a few moments, wondering if this is all some hangover-induced delusion.
“So, Logan Echolls? I’m Veronica Mars,” her matter-of-fact voice says from behind him. He closes the door, turning slowly to see her inspecting his condo. “Cliff filled me in on the situation.”
His brows furrow, as she checks inside the drawers of his sideboard. “I don’t understand. You’re my new bodyguard?”
Her head whips around to study him, blonde locks swinging. “What, you think because I’m a woman, I can’t protect you?”
“Well, I—”
“Size isn’t everything.”
He gives a low chuckle, reverting to ‘shameless flirt,’ his base setting. “I’ll have you know that—”
“Your buttons aren’t done up properly.” She walks away, not one bit affected by his charm.
He looks down to see his shirt lined up unevenly, and fumbles with them while she examines his bookshelf and closet. She considers a piece of artwork for a moment, before attempting to take it down off the wall. Logan automatically jumps forward to spot her, but she levels him with a glare and lowers the artwork to the ground, unveiling his safe.
“What the hell are you doing? How did you know my safe was here?” he asks, when she starts fiddling with the electronic pad.
“Well, it’s the third piece of artwork when you enter the room from the front door. So, the thinking is, if a burglar somehow got past me, they would try the first and second, figure it’s not on this floor, and head upstairs to your bedroom, at which point the other agents should be here.”
Who the fuck is this chick?
Sensing his confusion, she adds, “I’ve been doing this a while.”
Tongue peeking out from her mouth, she concentrates on the combination she inputs, when—click.
“Your mother’s birthday?” She rolls her eyes. “Really, Logan?”
Okay, seriously—who the fuck is she?
“How do you know my mother’s birthday?” Logan sputters.
She ignores his question. “Being your bodyguard means I have to make sure you’re protected from everything—any potential threat. Not only assault or harassment, but theft, too.”
As she works at resetting the code, Logan says the only thing that comes to his jumbled brain. “But… Richie and Huck didn’t care about this stuff.”
She scoffs. “Richie and Huck couldn’t find their own brains if you gave them a map. There’s a reason Cliff sends two of them, and one of me.”
The safe beeps, and she bends to pick up the artwork, fitting it back on the wall. “Grab me a piece of paper, I’ll write your new code for you. Memorize it, then destroy it.”
Logan shakes his head, trying to get a handle on this tornado of a woman.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on. I don’t know if you’ve been misinformed, but I don’t need anybody coming in here and telling me what to do. I just need a person to protect me from the ‘big bad wolf’ that is dear old Dad and make sure he doesn’t get to me. Haul harassers out of my way. Punch someone out so I don’t have to get blood under my nails. Take a bullet for me. The usual stuff.”
She crosses her arms, steadying herself. “And you don’t think I’m capable?” she asks in a low voice.
A tingle runs down his spine, and—okay, she’s a bit scary. And damn him to fucking hell for how it turns him on a little. He’ll analyze that with his therapist later.
“Listen, you got the whole ‘could make a grown man cry’ thing going on. But, physically…” He rakes his eyes up and down her form.
She clenches her jaw, and before he knows it, she’s rearing forward. Her leg snakes behind his, pinning his hip, and she grabs his chin and slams him to the ground. He lands flat on his back with an “Oof!”
Groaning at his aching muscles, he opens his lids to see her on her knees leaning over him. “Looks can be deceiving.” Her blue eyes are bright, and her blonde hair falls in waves over her shoulder. Logan can’t believe such a gorgeous, tiny woman just kicked his ass.
She pats his cheek. “Come on, buddy. Up and at ‘em.”
She stands and helps him up, hauling him off the floor. Hands on her hips, she says: “Verdict?”
Unable to look away, he surveys her—all five feet of her. Torn between kicking her out of his place and proposing marriage, he steps forward and offers her a handshake. That was pretty impressive. “Veronica, is it?”
Logan leans back in his leather chair. Entwining his fingers, he arches his spine and pushes out a stretch. Rolling his neck, he swivels to look out of the windows in his office. Closing his eyes for a moment to revel in the warm afternoon sun, he smells the delicious aroma of fresh coffee. He finishes typing his paragraph and ambles down the hallway, toward the living area of his penthouse.
Veronica sits cross legged at the glass table with a mug in her hand, engrossed in her laptop. Her blonde hair is in a loose ponytail, and... Logan is not sure why he noticed that. Her head whips up when she hears him get closer, and she takes a sip. “Brewed some fresh coffee if you want.”
Logan smirks. “Who’s enjoying the pretentious pour over coffee setup, now?”
“Well.” Veronica purses her lips, trying not to smile. “I figured, might as well make use of it if its pompous owner already bought it.”
“Sure, whatever you say.”
Grinning, Logan heads to the kitchen to get himself some java. He hasn’t left the house in the three days since Veronica showed up. Mostly because he hit a groove with his writing, but also because he has been trying to figure out how to play this.
As he pointed out to his mom, he doesn’t think Aaron is actually a threat to him, nor does he need a babysitter... but if Lynn has a bodyguard for Logan on her payroll, she’ll feel better. Wanting to ease his mom’s stresses, but not wanting a smothering shadow all day long, he considers his options while swirling in his cream.
They decided she should spend her days in the condo. The whole point of her taking the place of Richie and Huck is that she can blend in as his girlfriend if the tabloids or anyone else catches on. Anyone seeing her standing outside of his door would catch them in the lie.
She’s obviously smarter than the other bozos, and won’t be given the slip as easily. She comes early in the morning and leaves late at night—late enough where she’s sure he’s not going anywhere without her. Apparently, he’s not very trustworthy.
Veronica raises her brows when he joins her at the table—he usually goes directly back to his office after his coffee breaks. She reaches her arms above her head in a stretch that makes her black tee tighten across her chest. Logan studiously keeps his eyes on her face.
“I was going to come check on you.” Veronica leans back in her seat, mimicking typing. “Four hours straight… surprised your hands aren’t in the shape of a claw.”
“The things I do for my readers.”
She rolls her eyes and hunches forward, inspecting something on the screen. Curious, he jerks his head toward her computer and asks, “What have you been up to?”
“Tying up a few loose ends. Transitioning people to projects I was on previously, admin work for Cliff.” She shrugs. “Nothing too interesting.”
Maybe not to her, but it’s interesting to Logan. “How long have you been on Cliff’s payroll?”
“Two years,” she replies, sitting back again. “I was with the FBI before, but—”
Logan almost chokes on his drink. “What? The FBI?” It seems like every conversation with Veronica ends with him being even more fascinated with her.
But she doesn’t jump at the chance to brag. In fact, she withdraws, crossing her arms and eyeing the couch behind him. “Yeah, it was pretty cool at first but… I soon found out I didn’t fit the mold. It’s in my nature to question authority.”
Logan’s brows are still raised when she looks at him. “It’s really not a big deal,” she says, getting up to put her mug in the sink.
Logan thinks it’s a very big deal, but she wasn’t her usual snarky self when talking about it, so he doesn’t push. What the hell is she doing here, protecting a guy who doesn’t care to be protected, when she obviously takes her career very seriously?
He uses the opportunity of their separation to hop up the stairs to grab his keys and wallet. She’s too smart to be lied to, but maybe he can try a simpler tactic. When he comes back down to the main floor, Veronica is back to typing on her laptop. He puts away his own cup and returns to his office for a few moments… only to tiptoe toward the foyer and reach for the handle—
“Where do you think you’re sneaking off to?”
He squeezes his eyes shut, wrinkling his nose. Busted. He slowly turns to see Veronica’s hands on her hips.
“Oh, I was going to grab my dry cleaning from—”
She does her—patented, he’s come to learn—head tilt.
“It’s right across the street, and...”
She blinks a few times, waiting him out.
“And… I’ll wait for you to come with me.”
“You sure will!” She grabs her purse from the side table and zips up her leather boots. Opening the door, she pats his chest a few times, and says, “You’re stuck with me—get used to it.”
She saunters forward through the hallway in her tight black jeans, pushing the elevator button with flair. A better man would accept they’ve been beat by a smart, hot, ex-FBI agent.
Logan is not a better man.
Challenge accepted.
Veronica places a box in the basket Logan is holding, and he does a double take.
“Animal crackers?” he asks. “Are you five?”
“They are literally the best snack—light, tasty, and the perfect mix of savoury and sweet.” She turns to face him, tilting her chin up. “Fight me on it.”
He throws his palms up in defeat. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re kinda scary, Mars?”
She smiles. “All the time! Thanks for the compliment.”
He rolls his eyes as they walk farther through the store.
“Hey, do you mind grabbing me the Diesel protein powder?” he asks her. “It’s by the health goods. I just need to figure out which cereal I prefer.”
Veronica raises her brows, and Logan crosses his fingers and puts them to his heart in promise.
She walks away, and he picks up a box of Frosted Flakes, pretending to inspect it. He waits about twenty seconds, peeking around the aisle to make sure she isn’t anywhere near. This supermarket doesn’t sell the Diesel brand, and that should keep her busy for the next couple of minutes.
Nonchalantly placing his basket down, he strolls toward the back. Looking both ways, he shuffles through the staff-only section to the side door he knows leads out to the alley.
As he pushes the handle and steps over the threshold, his grin slides off his face. He really thought he had her fooled, but Veronica stands before him, arms crossed, foot tapping on the pavement.
“Going somewhere?”
Her unamused expression is clear, even with her sunglasses and baseball cap. She’s not even smug about catching him. She’s... bored. She knew she would stop him.
Once again, Logan is grudgingly impressed. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum wouldn’t have known what hit them. He wonders once again why she sticks around to put up with his antics. Is his mom paying off her mortgage or something?
“Again? How did you know this time?” he asks her, as they backtrack into the store.
“I always know your movements.”
“Oh my god, did you bug me?” He pats down his body, feeling for a tracking device. He takes off his own hat and inspects the rim.
She leans closer and whispers, “I’ll never reveal my secrets.” Winking, she flounces away toward the cereal aisle like she’s sure he’s going to follow her.
And… he does.
Fuck, she’s good.
Replacing his cap on his head, he catches up to her as she grabs the basket he ditched, shoving it in his hands. She reaches for the Lucky Charms, and asks Logan, “Do you not care about your own safety?”
“What?”
“This little game you’re playing, trying to ditch me. Are you willing to risk your life for it?”
“Well, it’s just too fun to resist.” He gives her his most charming smile, and she grimaces, turning away.
“So, you live around here?” he asks, since changing topics is his forte.
And, as usual, she gives him nothing. “That’s not pertinent information.”
“I’m just wondering if it’s a long drive—we should compensate you more if it’s a long ways away.”
She places the box in the black basket and says, “Nice try.”
He takes off his sunglasses and tucks them in the v-neck of his shirt. “I’m only trying to get to know you better.”
She’s having none of it. “Nobody said we had to be friends.”
“You’re really missing out. I’ll have you know I’m a great friend.”
“Yeah, you seem like a real fun time.” She walks past him to the next aisle, perusing the canned items.
He joins her. “It’s true. TMZ once called me the ‘Funnest son of a celebrity murderer.’ I had to beat out Justin Simpson for the title.”
Her lips curve upward. Trying to get her to crack is slowly becoming his new favourite game. He loves a good challenge, and it’s even more fun than seeing if he can shake her tail, which is getting old, quickly.
“They must really like you. Be careful,” she warns, “or else TMZ might see you picking out your own cereal and actually think you’re”—she gasps—“ just like us!”
“Wouldn’t that be a travesty?”
She leans against the metal bar of the shelf. “It would definitely put a mark on your house.”
“Yes, because that would taint the Echolls name.”
Their smiles grow, and they share a quick laugh before she shakes her head and moves on to the next aisle.
He stares at the spot she disappeared from for a few moments before trailing her. Maybe she’s not so bad. She’s funnier than she lets on. Gives as good as she gets—and it’s been a while since Logan’s had a verbal sparring partner who matched his wit.
Intrigued, he follows her through the store, and doesn’t even think once (okay, twice) about escaping again.
Logan gives the cash to the driver and thanks him, following Veronica out of the car. Swinging the door closed, he surveys Dick’s beach house. The loud music blares from the inside, and drunken guests hobble around the property. Beside him, Veronica takes in their surroundings, cataloguing neighbouring houses, vehicles, people and… whatever the hell else she looks for. He asked a few days ago, but once the answer was more than three sentences, he tuned her out.
Logan holds out his hand to her, palm side up, and gives her a questioning glance. Gripping it firmly, she nods once, all business. Although they’ve gone out in public this past week and a half, they’ve never had to play up their ‘relationship’ before, and he’ll know a lot of people here.
They walk towards the house, stepping around an angry couple fighting (“I’m tired of you counting my drinks, Amy!”) and over the threshold. If the music was loud outside, it’s deafening now, the base thumping in Logan’s heart. Logan pulls Veronica—whose eyes are wide taking it all in—through to the main area of the house.
People making out on the couch, beer pong competition in full swing, keg stands in the corner, lines of coke on the kitchen table… yes, this is a Casablancas Classic. Logan can always count on his best friend to make him feel like he never left college.
Speak of the devil. A burst of laughter escapes Logan at the sight of Dick in jean overalls and… nothing else, it seems.
“Logan, my brother!” Dick bustles forward and throws his arms around Logan, who lets go of Veronica to clap his back. Dick pulls away, ruffling Logan’s hair. “Finally, man. You’ve been stuck in your office for, like, two weeks!”
“Remember, I actually like my job.” Logan reaches up, trying to restore the way it was styled before. Veronica clears her throat, and Logan turns back to Dick. “I want to introduce you to—”
“Where’s Starsky and Hutch? Did you ditch them already? Man, you’re a legend. You need to blow off some steam. Hey—Mandy!” Dick calls behind him to the brunette in a barely-there blue dress. “Grab Logan a cold one, will you?”
“Dick,” Logan interrupts, putting his arm on Veronica’s back. “I want you to meet Veronica.”
Dick’s eyes bulge as he checks out Veronica, whistling. “You sure you wanna hang around this dude? The Dickmeister can show you a way better time.” He thrusts his hips forward to prove his point.
“That’s… not something you should lead with,” Veronica says with a wrinkled nose.
“Actually...” Logan starts, sure to keep his voice low, beckoning Dick forward. He throws Veronica an apologetic look. She tried to convince him that nobody should know about their arrangement if he wanted to keep up the ruse, but Logan doesn’t keep any secrets from Dick. People will say what they want about him, but he’s loyal to the death. “Veronica is my new bodyguard.”
Dick rears back, roaring with laughter, patting Logan on the shoulder. It’s not until he takes in Logan’s serious expression—and Veronica’s thunderous one—that his grin wanes… and then grows again. “What the fuck? Dude, you can’t be serious.”
Veronica steps forward. “And why is that, Dick?”
Dick covers his new round of giggles with his hand, looking between them incredulously. “Is this for real?”
“I’m telling you, buddy. She’s good. She had me flat on my back in three seconds.”
Dick bobs his brows. “Yeah, well, I don’t doubt that, but—”
Veronica takes another step forward, but Logan moves in front of her, blocking her path. “Veronica’s work for me is on the down low, okay? If anyone asks, she’s my girlfriend.”
Dick shakes his head in disbelief, another chuckle playing on his lips. “It’s better this way. Don’t have to answer questions about how you need a chick to protect you.” He slaps Logan’s cheek in a playful manner and stumbles off to greet another guest.
Logan turns back to Veronica, arms crossed and unamused. “That is your best friend?”
Logan sighs heavily. “Dick really doesn’t give good first impressions.”
She gasps in mock shock. “No, you don’t say?”
Mandy arrives at that moment to give Logan the uncapped beer Dick ordered. “Really good to see you again, Logan,” she breathes, winking at him while running her fingers down his bicep, and saunters away, probably hoping he’d check out her backside.
Veronica raises her brows. “Mandy?”
“It doesn’t count if it only happens once, does it?”
She snorts. “You wish.”
He does.
Logan offers Veronica the ice cold beverage, but she shakes her head, gripping her purse. “I only take unopened drinks, but thank you.”
He furrows his brows, but doesn’t prod. Instead, he grabs her hand and pulls them into the kitchen, wading through all the junk in Dick’s fridge to find a new bottle for her.
She smiles, shaking her head again. “I shouldn’t be drinking on the job, anyway.”
Pursing his lips, Logan closes the refrigerator door. Not needing to lower his voice, due to the sheer volume in the house, he asks, “Why, would one drink affect your reflexes?”
She snorts. “You think I’m a lightweight?”
“So then, you’re my employee, and I’m saying one drink is in the job description. It’s yours if you want it.” He lines it up so the cap is on the lip of the kitchen counter and shoves his palm down. He presents her the open bottle, chest puffed.
She tries—unsuccessfully—to hide a grin. “What, was that supposed to impress me, or something?”
“Sure it didn’t, Shania Twain.”
Rolling her eyes, she takes the beverage and nods slightly as a thanks. Suddenly, a boisterous crowd forms, cheering on two men who stand, pens in hand, about to shotgun beers. Logan leans down to speak in Veronica’s ear. “The back leads out to a private beach. Want to grab some air?”
At her assent, he leads her through the patio doors, past the various partygoers who had the same idea. When they get closer to the water, he plops down onto the sand, elbows resting on his bent knees. Veronica joins him, putting enough space between them that they won’t touch accidentally. Always professional, this one.
“So, riddle me this,” Veronica says, breaking the silence. “Charismatic son of famous Hollywood stars becomes a successful writer—of his own merit—yet still hangs out with idiots, who, if you cut open, are probably still seventeen inside. Why?”
Logan chuckles and takes a sip of his beer. “Not sure you’d understand.”
“Try me.”
He shrugs. “Nobody else gets it. Poor little rich boy, right? But Dick—he gets it. Fucked up family, no privacy, fake people all around us. We all have our ways of coping. Yeah, Dick’s strategy is consistently a little more juvenile than some others his age, but it works for him. He’s happy.”
She looks at him then, searching his face. He continues, “We look out for each other, otherwise nobody else will.”
“What about your mom?” Veronica asks, softly.
“My mom’s a mess. She tries, but…” He shakes his head. “She’s spent her whole adult life so afraid of my father, she thinks he’s still obsessed with hurting us.”
“You don’t?”
“I think it’s possible, but… I spent most of my life being afraid of him, too.” He meets her stare, and takes a deep breath. “I refuse to do that anymore.”
She turns her head to survey the water, taking a large gulp of her beer. “So, I’m getting paid for you to humour your mom,” she says, not phrased as a question.
“You must have already made that conclusion, considering I’ve made it my personal mission to try and outsmart you.”
“How’s that going?”
“Not well,” he admits.
She smiles, and it softens her features. Logan decides he likes it when she does that. “Cliff has done a lot for me, and he asked me to do this as a favour,” she says. “I take my job seriously, so whatever shit you throw at me, just know you’ll get twice as much thrown back.”
Logan contemplates this, his fascination for her growing. They sit in silence for a few moments, drinking, until Veronica faces him again. “So, if you’re such good friends with Dick, and you seem to enjoy his coping mechanisms, why aren’t we in there… enjoying his coping mechanisms?”
Logan holds the neck of the bottle and swings it around. “Seemed like you were a little overwhelmed. Figured I’d be a good pretend-boyfriend and not make you suffer through more before you worked up to it.”
Veronica’s jaw drops the slightest bit before she regains composure. “Why did you think I was overwhelmed?”
“You head was whipping back and forth between the drugs and beer pong like you couldn’t—”
“I’m your bodyguard, it’s my job to check out—”
“Wide eyes, shallow breathing, shoulders hunched, clutching your purse like a lifeline.”
Veronica opens her mouth to protest, but the words die on her lips. The genuine smile from moments ago becomes sardonic. “You’re good.”
“When you’re surrounded by those aforementioned fake suck ups all the time, you have to become an expert at reading people.”
But he doesn’t push. Veronica isn’t the type to open up, he knows that. So, when she speaks a few moments later, he’s surprised.
“I had a pretty bad party experience in high school.” Her voice is more raw than usual—not quite vulnerable, but lacking the sharpness he has come to know well. She shifts in the sand, trying to get comfortable. “I’ve been to plenty of shindigs since then, obviously, but something about this one brought me back. The atmosphere. The people.”
Logan’s brows scrunch together. “We can go if you’re—”
“Do I look like someone who can’t handle it?” He can almost hear her armour clink back into place. “I’m fine.”
“Okay.” He tips his head back to chug his beer and almost misses her whispered, “Thanks.”
At that moment, a group of half-naked drunks fly past them, showering them with sand. Logan and Veronica jump up to try and shake off all the grains.
“Assholes,” Veronica mutters, sending a dirty glare to the group, now stripping the rest of their clothes and skinny dipping in the water. “God, it went everywhere.”
“Here, let me.” Logan steps forward and gently brushes away the offending particles on her hair, as she pinches her blouse and shakes it back and forth, aerating it.
“Thanks, I…” She lifts her head and trails off at their close proximity. Her blue eyes reflect the shining moonlight, and he’s never noticed how there’s a little yellow too, right around the pupil. She quickly backs away, running her hands through her locks to make sure he got everything. “Thanks,” she repeats.
“Fancy a walk?” Logan jerks his head behind him, indicating the long expanse of beach. “We can still postpone going back in, without having to get sprayed by drunken party goers in their birthday suits.”
A ghost of the smile he liked so much creeps onto her face, and she nods. Picking up her purse from the ground, she steps forward to start their trek. “It wasn’t even like those guys had anything that interesting to look at, anyways.”
She bites her tongue playfully, as Logan guffaws. “You looked? You’re supposed to be my fake girlfriend! How dare you!”
“It’s my job to surveille any and all potential threats. They could have been packing heat!”
“ Yeah right. Maybe a mini revolver.”
“Oh, is this a ‘my gun is bigger than their gun’ thing?”
“I don’t know, wanna find out?” He bobs his brows, and even in the dark he can still see a pink tinge bloom on her cheeks.
“Perv.”
“Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
“Friendship? Hardly. Partnership, maybe . You have to do what I say in order to stay safe.”
“I’m pretty sure my family is paying you, ergo, I’m your boss. You have to do what I say.”
She moves in front of him, blocking his path, and puts her hands on her hips with a smirk. “Need a refresher on what happens when I’m told something I don’t like?”
Logan rubs his back in memory, wincing in an exaggerated fashion. “Nope. Consider my memory refreshed. At your service, ma’am.”
“Damn straight,” she says, bumping him with her elbow, now walking closer than before.
The silence that ensues is comfortable. Friendly. She loosely holds her bottle by her thigh, the wind blowing her blonde, wavy hair over her shoulder.
Veronica Mars is still a mystery, but her iron walls keep cracking, and he likes what he sees underneath.
There aren’t a lot of people who Logan would choose to spend an evening with. There are even fewer with whom he would actually enjoy his night. He may not have chosen to spend his evening with Veronica, per se, but he’s surprised to realize he’s not actively hating the idea of her being around for a while.
She stops to lean on him and uses his arm as leverage while she slips off her wedges. She toes the sand barefoot and lets out a content sigh.
He can humour his mom and maybe even enjoy the company, too. It’s a win/win for everyone.