Logan Echolls was fire.

Veronica had known it since the beginning, when they were kids, even though it had not been as obvious back then, when it was more like a sparkler: bright, fun and not really that dangerous. Of course, like any other kid she had been taught the golden rules: no entering stranger's cars, no candy on weekdays and no playing with fire.

Still, they had been friends, and Lilly and Logan combined were fireworks. Even when the show was over and Logan practically roared at her at Lilly's funeral, he still drew her in.

Admittedly, Logan was a jerk. A psychotic, raving, attention-craving adrenaline-junkie punk kid always seeking new thrills and new fans by pulling pranks, wooing girls and being the main badass. But there were also other sides to him, sides which Veronica had until now only seen when he had been together with Lilly, or grieving her, and they intrigued her. Sides that made you want to come closer and bask in the kind warmth, just like flames eating at the driftwood of a beachside bonfire.

Now, he was not so much a blazing fire as a soft flickering of candlelight, small and frighteningly easy to put out – but in his voice there was still heat: a promise that whatever the world threw at him, he would overcome it, and that at any time he might turn from gentle flame to scorching, voracious forest fire, devouring everything and everyone in his way.

She might get hurt, as she had been so many times by his snide remarks or whenever he had lashed out at her the past year. She knew that if she got too close he could burn her, and burn her bad.

But had she ever followed the rules?