Rrpp. Rrpp. Rrpp.
What the hell?
I lifted my head from underneath the down comforter and glared at the alarm clock. It mocked me, sitting there defiantly crooked.
Why the hell was it ringing? It was Sunday. Either six forty-five or eight forty-five, probably the latter. Better be the later.
Rrpp. Rrpp.
I scooted over and whacked it once, hard. The plastic part I’d stuck back on with gum flew off, but the alarm still shrilled. So I did what anyone would do: I yanked it so the cord came out of the socket and let it drop to the floor.
Unfortunately, it hit the hardwood floor instead of the rug next to my bed. I heard a crack and a metallic ping.
Looking over the side of the bed, I groaned. The volume knob had broken off. No sign of metal, which meant it was probably something on the inside.
I groaned again. “Shit.”
I pulled the covers over my head and scrunched my eyes closed. I would sleep another couple of hours.
Ten minutes later I decided it was futile so I dragged my carcass out of bed. I ‘accidentally’ kicked the clock on my way to the closet to get my robe, after which I shuffled into the kitchen to make myself a large pot of coffee.
The first cup I downed like medicine. The second I savored. By the third I felt human enough to call Scott.
He answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
“I need advice.”
Silence. “Rogue?”
“Yeah.” I frowned. “Who else would it be?”
“Exactly. It’s not even ten yet.”
“Don’t remind me.” I felt proud that I managed not to punctuate my statement with a growl. The coffee had mellowed me out.
“I’m just shocked.” He paused. “You do know it’s Sunday, right?”
This time I did growl.
“Have you had coffee yet?”
“Three cups.”
I could hear his thoughts loud and clear: and still you’re surly? But he wisely backed off. “What kind of advice do you need?”
“I went out with Warren last night--”
“Warren?”
“Warren Worthington. The VP of development at work.”
Scott groaned. “Rogue, you don’t date guys you work with,” he said succinctly. “It makes it awkward after you break up.”
“I don’t work with him.”
“You just said he was from work.”
“Yeah, but I don’t actually work with him. His office is on a completely different floor.”
Scott sighed. I could picture him rubbing his neck like he does when he’s exasperated. “So what advice do you need?
“Should I go out with him again?”
“Was your date fun?”
Fun? I wrinkled my nose. That wasn’t exactly how I’d put it. Though kneeing that one guy in his privates was pretty entertaining. “Um, it was okay.”
“Was he a good kisser?”
I almost gagged, remembering. “His technique was good, but his lips…”
“Then don’t waste your time. You know how you are about kisses.”
I frowned. “How am I?”
“Particular.”
My frown deepened. “I am not.”
“Are too.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.” He chuckled. “But don’t worry. I think it’s because Bobby and the half-dozen guys before him weren’t right for you.”
Oh. Yeah, that was true. For a second I thought Scott was saying it was my fault their kisses sucked. Kind of like Bobby saying I was boring in bed. Yeah, hat still loomed large in my mind.
“Once you find a guy that’s right for you, you’ll like his kisses,” Scott said sagely.
“Do you find kissing women repulsive?”
He snorted. “No.”
“So you think I shouldn’t go out with Warren again?” He’d been a good candidate, except for his kiss.
“I think you should come to my field hockey game today.”
I pursed my lips. “Are there going to be single men there?”
“Dozens of them.”
“Okay.”
An hour later I showered and dressed in a pair of old Levi’s, a thin green shirt, and my red Diesel tennis shoes. Hair in a ponytail and a swipe of lip gloss and I was good to go.
Because of the continuing gorgeous weather, I went down to sit on my stoop while I waited. I couldn’t waste more time on Warren. Scott was the one to say it: I had to like the guy I took home. If I didn’t, my parents would be able to tell.
I didn’t think I’d be able to like Warren enough to fool my parents. His kisses just… shudder.
So, sitting there, I compiled a mental list of options.
1) Find the love of my life (might be somewhat difficult given the time constraints)
2) Find someone I was in lust with (if I was hot enough for a guy it might fool my parents into thinking it was love
3) Pretend to like someone (unfeasible-- I can’t act)
4) Take acting lessons (hmm, definite possibility
5) Track down Richard Dean Anderson and convince him we were fated to be together
Of all my options, E seemed the most viable solution.
Scott arrived right on time. Not surprising. I hopped down the steps and jumped into his car. “Hey.”
He smiled. “Hey, yourself. Ready?”
“Yeah. Guess what?”
“What?” he asked, checking his blind spot before pulling out into the street.
“Mystique left a note for me that she was going to be out of town for the next week.”
He glanced at me. “Where do you think she went?”
“A sex worker convention,” I replied instantly.
“Do you think they have seminars at those kinds of conventions?”
I pursed my lips in thought. “If they do, I bet Mystique conducts one.”
Scott smirked. “How to Give Your John the Most for His Money?”
“Or It’s Not About the Size.”
“What to Expect When You’re Hooking?”
“You and Your Whip: Forming a Mutually Fulfilling Relationship.”
“Improving Your Oral Skills.” He glanced over, daring me to top that one.
It took me a moment, but I got it right as we arrived. “Thriving Under Pressure: What to Do When They’re Just Too Big.”
We parked, and I got out and went around to his side of the car to wait for him. He was rooting around in the back seat, God knows for what. I took the time to look around. You never know who might be hanging out in the parking lot.
“Here. Make yourself useful.” Scott shoved a bag at me.
I lifted it experimentally. It was small but surprisingly heavy. “What’s in here?”
“Lunch.” He grabbed his gym bag and closed the door. “Come on. The game’s starting any minute.”
I wanted to point out that he shouldn’t worry because he’s never late for anything, but I didn’t want to antagonize my ride. And I was looking forward to meeting one or two of his teammates.
I followed Scott to the field. There were two groups of players on either side along with the friends and families who’d come to cheer. We headed toward the motlier bunch of people.
“Scott, quick,” I whispered. “Point out which guys are single.”
He glanced down at me. “Tell me you aren’t serious about this.”
“Hell, yeah, I’m serious. We’ve already had this conversation.” I studied the men in the lineup. There were a surprising number of women playing on Scott’s team too, and for a moment I entertained the idea of adding 6) Give up men and find a lesbian lover to my list. But kissing a woman? I wouldn’t want someone else’s lipstick smeared on me.
So I pain-punched Scott in the ribs. “Just point out the ones who are especially successful.”
“Ow! Rogue--”
“But who don’t drive Jags or Porches.” I shrugged at his frown. “You know how I hate uppity sports cars like that.”
“Oh, well then, that makes the choice easy,” he said facetiously, rubbing his side. “You want Mortimer.”
I followed the jerk of his chin to two guys who stood on the fringe of the group, talking quietly. One was tall and fairly good-looking, with blondish hair and a lanky body. The other had glasses and unkept hair that looked like it needed a good stylist.
I focused all my attention on the blonde. “Morty’s cute.”
“Mort’s the one with the glasses.”
“Oh.”
I studied Mortimer again. He didn’t look so bad. He didn’t have striking looks, but he seemed like he had an okay body at least. A little hunched over, but maybe he had a pain somewhere. If he played field hockey, he had to be in decent shape and was probably getting all sorts of aches and pains.
“I didn’t know you had this mercenary streak in you,” Scott said.
I scowled at him. “I don’t.”
He just stared at me.
“I don’t.” But I winced internally. He was right. Heartless, that’s what I was. And shallow. I picked Warren based on his looks and see how that turned out? Maybe Mort was just the kind of guy I needed. We may even have a lot in common. Maybe that’s why I hadn’t met my soul mate yet, because I was picking the wrong sort of guys.
Not this time. I took a deep breath and opened myself to the possibilities.
Fortunately, Scott didn’t say another word because we’d joined the group. He did a quick round of introductions-- like I was going to remember everyone’s names-- and then deposited me next to Mort. That’s what a great friend Scott is. He supports me even when he doesn’t agree with my methods.
Mortimer blinked owlishly at me, like I’d suddenly materialized into the space next to him.
No problem. I didn’t mind being the forward one. I held out my hand. “Hi. I’m Marie.”
“Yeah, that’s what Scott said.” He reluctantly took my hand, shook it once, and dropped it.
I tried not to frown. “Do you play hockey often?”
“Yeah.”
“You must be good.”
Shoulder shrug.
“Have you played long?”
Another shrug.
Huh. I stared at him. Maybe he wasn’t interested. No-- he was a guy. And I don’t mean that in an I’m-a-Sex-God-way either. I just mean, he’s a guy and I’m a girl. He had to be at least somewhat interested. Unless he was gay.
I studied him some more. He didn’t look gay.
Then he took off his glasses and stowed them in their case. Underneath the Coke-bottle lenses, he was actually decent-looking. Certainly not in the same caliber as Bobby or Warren-- and not even close to Logan-- but definitely interesting.
So I tried with renewed enthusiasm. “I was wondering if sometime you’d like to get together for a drink or coffee or something.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. Whether it was in surprise or because he couldn’t see me, I don’t know. “Why?”
I guess I had my answer. I pursed my lips and tried to come up with a truthful answer. “You looked interesting.”
He watched me suspiciously for at least another twenty seconds-- while I tried to look fetching-- before he said, “Fine. Drinks. Tuesday. Seven o’clock.”
“Great.” I smiled.
He grunted and joined his team out on the field.
I went to where Scott dropped his stuff and sat on the ground by his bag to watch the game. I couldn’t keep the satisfied smile off my face. I had a good feeling about Mort. Sure, he was kind of terse, but that was understandable. He was probably just shy. Once I got a drink into him I was sure Mortimer would loosen up. And if he didn’t, no biggie. I didn’t mind a man of few words. I perked up and grinned. There could be advantages to that.
“Hey.”
I glanced up and blinked. “Logan?”
The corner of his mouth lifted into a slight grin. “I was runnin’ and noticed you over here. Thought I’d say hi.”
It was like one of my in-the-dark-of-the-night fantasies come to life. He wore short, cut-off denims and no shirt to cover his chest. A glistening layer of sweat showed off the definition of all his muscles.
Yummy.
I cleared my throat and tried not to stare at certain parts of his body that were eye level from my seat on the ground. “Um, hi.”
He chuckled. Probably at my dumbfounded expression. Then he nodded toward the game. “You play?”
“Oh, no.” I could help it-- I sneaked a look at those certain parts. I wasn’t disappointed. “Chasing a ball isn’t my thing. I’m just here to cheer on my best friend.”
“Mind if I sit?”
“Go ahead,” I said, though I wasn’t sure why.
Logan dropped to the ground next to me, so close I could feel the heat radiating off his skin. “I remember you from the other night. Bobby should bring you by more often.”
Ha! Bobby would love that. “Actually, Bobby and I aren’t dating.” For the moment, I added silently. But I figured I should be honest with Logan because Bobby might talk to him.
“Yeah?”
Was it me, or did he sound kind of happy about that? I turned to look at him and, sure enough, he watched me with interest, kind of like he was wondering what I kissed like.
Okay, that might have been projection on my part.
I cleared my throat. “So how long have you taught at the gym?”
Logan didn’t seem to notice how lame my attempt at conversation was. Only raised an eyebrow and said, “I started teaching eight years ago, when I moved to New York. I met Bobby a few years after that.”
I ignored Bobby’s name and asked, “You didn’t grow up here?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Lived in Japan until I was six and then Canada. Dad was career military but he retired and took a post teaching outside of Vancouver.”
“Oh.” I perked up. My parents thought teaching was a noble profession. “What does he teach?”
“History of warfare and battle tactics.”
Oh. Somehow I doubted they’d find teaching the art of war noble. “What made you move out here?”
“I followed a woman.” He smiled ruefully.
The thought of him liking someone enough to move across countries with her didn’t sit well with me. Which totally didn’t make sense. I frowned. “Bobby never mentioned your girlfriend.”
Not that Bobby mentioned anything about any of his friends, but Logan didn’t have to know that. I was just fishing for information.
“No girlfriend.” He gazed at me for a drawn-out moment before he turned back to watch the game. “Dated her for a while until I realized she liked me more for my money and body than for me.”
Ouch. I winced in sympathy, unable to imagine anyone using a guy like Logan. Aside from being absolutely drool-worthy, he was smart, attentive, and interesting. He did seem a little under-motivated in his career, but no one was perfect.
“There’ve been some women since, but no one special.” He flashed me that look again. The one with the crooked smile.
What did it mean?
Before I could ask him, he got up and dusted his shorts off. “You should come by the gym sometime. Ask for me.”
“Uh. Right.”
He raised an eyebrow. I was really starting to find that rather sexy. “Hope to see ya soon.”
Frowning, I stared at him as jogged away. Was that a pickup, or was he just drumming up attendance for his lessons?
“Too bad he isn’t the right kind of guy,” I murmured, because I wouldn’t mind him teaching me a thing or two.
I shook my head. I should have kissed him-- surefire way of getting over this infatuation. He probably kissed like a fish. But as he faded in the distance, I had a hard time making myself believe that.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Marie meets another possible substitute. And then there's bare-chested Logan.
I've been sick this weekend so in case this virus lingers and i can't post for a while i wanted to go ahead and send another chapter. it's not long but maybe it will tide some of you over until i'm feeling better.
I've been sick this weekend so in case this virus lingers and i can't post for a while i wanted to go ahead and send another chapter. it's not long but maybe it will tide some of you over until i'm feeling better.