Rebecca Logan

I want you to know that I rarely try to sleep with the same ex twice.

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Rebecca Logan zetabetabrat
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Room 303, Tuesday Late Morning
Rebecca had woken up a little earlier than she needed to this morning. Well, technically she didn't need to wake up very early at all, considering that Tuesday, like the five other days of the week that weren't Friday, was a day that she didn't have any on-campus classes. Sure, she had all her online classes to worry about, but she mostly did the work for those at night when she was unlikely to be spotted. It was strategic, really.

Regardless -- today. Up early. So she extended her morning run to an hour or so longer than usual, which admittedly felt pretty awesome. Then she came back up to her room, slung a towel over her shoulders to take care of some of the immediate sweatiness problem, and putted around reading her texts.

Rebecca Logan: Constructive human being since 1995.

[[open open!]]

Let's be clear, here: Peter had no real interest in talking to Rebecca. In fact, he would have happily been on his way all day without as much as thinking about Rebecca, if her door hadn't been open and, coincidentally, on his way down to his own room.

No, he had not been thinking about Rebecca at all. Sadly, though, it wasn't just politics he was focused on this time - he found his mind constantly drifting back to that whole Conversation with Natalie in the most distracting, annoying way possible.

Ugh.

So it probably came as no surprise he poked his head in anyway. "Oh, you're studying."

Don't sound so surprised.

Rebecca glanced up and raised an eyebrow. "I'm reading my texts," she pointed out.

"Yes, that would be what I just observed out loud," Peter said mildly.

"Your deductive reasoning amazes me," Rebecca decided.

"As your skill at basic repetition amazes me," Peter said idly, wandering into the room.

"Studying seems a bit strong," she pointed out. "Not sure it really applies to reading--" she pulled up a recent text message on her phone and affected a shrill, slightly annoying voice -- "'Hi Becs, hope you're good. XOXO!'"

"Please text her back and ask her if you spell 'sarcastic' with one i or two," Peter requested, sitting down without bothering to ask if he could.

"Doubt she even knows," Rebecca commented dryly, setting her phone back down with a little noise of disgust.

"So what brings you here, Peter?" she asked as she shucked the towel that was around her shoulders and tossed it over to Matt's side of the room.

"What, I can't drop by to have a chat without being questioned on my motives?" asked Peter, who always had ulterior motives for just about everything.

In this case, finding something else to distract him so he could calm the distracted part of his brain down and get back to work.

Real strategic move, Peter. Distract yourself doubly to avoid having to be distracted at all.

"Not sure you've ever done it before," Rebecca pointed out, taking a seat on top of her desk and lazily stretching out her legs in front of her. Or very deliberately. One of those.

Hey, it worked during sex week.

And yeah, that was deliberate. Rebecca had all the subtlety of a blow to the head. Peter guessed he could work with that. "Fair point," he said. "Really, I was just coming over to invite you back to my room."

And if that didn't work, he was just going to read newspapers for a while until the urgency of the situation struck him again and he could stop thinking about stuff that didn't matter in the long run.

Oh.

Huh. Well, then.

Really, it didn't take a genius to figure out that Peter was obviously turning to sex to sublimate... something, but Rebecca didn't care what it was and it wasn't like she had anything better to do anyway. And besides, Peter taking the initiative was kind of nice, in a very 'Why should I do all the work all the time?' kind of way. So she didn't feel the need to harp on it, just tugged her hair out of the ponytail it was in and hopped off her desk.

"Sure," she said. "Lead the way."

See? This was why turning to Rebecca was a good idea. No questions, or edging around some kind of point, or doing the whole I-have-something-on-my-mind-but-I-won't-tell-you-unless thing.

"And here I was about to go with 'ladies first'," he drawled, but he was already on his way out the door.

She was pretty great for quiet Wigginly sublimiation of feelings, it was true. Peter should appreciate her more.

"Oh, dabbling in chivalry now," Rebecca snarked, following after him and shutting her door behind her. "Good thing you went on anyway, or else I would've fainted in shock."

Sure, Peter was going to buy her flowers or something.

If he remembered.

Probably not.

"Can't have that," he said, but offered her a chivalrous arm anyway.

It would be a first for them both! Though Rebecca would sooner let her cat eat the flowers than be bothered to put them in water. It was just how she was.

Rebecca took his arm, though not without grinning privately to herself at the idea of Peter employing any chivalry at all. "Impressive," she observed at the gesture as they got closer to his door. "Though you know you can just cut to the chase with me, right?"

"Who says that's not exactly why I came here?" Peter asked as he walked down the hall. "Most of the people I know are obsessed with 'the chase'."

"I'm just saying," Rebecca said, perfectly mildly. "Walking arm-in-arm through the halls doesn't seem like your style or mine. You don't have to jump through hoops if you'd rather just get to the making out."

It was an out, Peter! Be grateful! Or something.

"But it amuses me to do it this way," Peter said, though as they reached his door, he let go.

He paused by the door. "Though, before we go in," he said. "In the interest of being straightforward: Any outstanding issues you want to delicately tip-toe around? Maybe some parental problems you'd like to take out on me without actually saying anything?"

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. Up, up, up it went!

"No," she said, with certainty. Holding up a hand, she pledged, "No sobfests, insecurities, or typical chick issues on the horizon. Honest."

Though she supposed he must have known that, or he wouldn't have sought her out.

"Well, I'm willing to hold open the door for that," Peter said, and did so, with a properly exaggerated swing.

"I'm flattered," Rebecca said dryly, and her hands were halfway to the bottom of her tank top before, on a whim, she tossed back -- "And I assume the same is true for you?"

Oh, Rebecca. If you were waiting for Peter to run out of issues, you'd be waiting a loooong time.

"No sobfests, insecurities, or daddy issues," Peter lied like a lying thing said. He shut the door behind him, then put his hands to good use taking his own shirt off. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

Well, it was Peter, so at least he'd be more 'kneejerkingly dramatic' than 'passive-aggressive' about it.

Yeah, that sounded juuust effusive enough to be bullshit. Too bad Rebecca didn't actually care what issues he had so long as he kept them to himself.

"Great," she said decisively, and off came the shirt. "Then let's get to it."

"Good enough for me," Peter said, gripping her hips and pulling her in.

Work off some of this tension, kick her out, then get back to work. Excellent plan.

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