What Happens In Hamburg

Chapter 1

He hugged her back, squeezing a bit tighter, than he would with just a friend, yet releasing her as she did, struggling to keep his cool.

"Oh, wow, I really did not expect to run into you here," she said almost apologetically.

"I'm glad you did. Almost make this thing tolerable. Conferences are not really my cup of tea," Logan said.

"I got sent to this as a replacement, and I really didn't know what I was walking into," she commented. Only then she recalled that she must've looked like crap and smelled awful, straight off the plane, wearing just her black jeans and a simple blue sweater. Her eyes were probably a little bloodshot, feeling dry and itchy from the lack of proper sleep and excess screen time, she tended to subject herself to these days.

"Let me know, whom to make the thank you note out to," he smirked.

"Can we go eat? I haven't eaten all morning," she noted, moving towards the exit.

"Maybe you would like to go grab something outside?" he suggested seeing the line of a hundred-something people queing up to a row of heated trays of food.

"Sure, I trust you know a place," she agreed. Logan Huntzberger always knew a place.

She grabbed her dark denim jacket from the coat-check, leaving her hand luggage behind, and stepped into the slightly damp early autumn weather with Logan leading the way. He really hadn't changed much, he still pretty much wore the same outfits, just a little more slim-tailored, as fashions had changed, hugging his clearly well looked-after body. His face was a little more rough, skinnier even, but the way that mouth of his smirked - looked exactly the same. It had once been her weakness.

"This place is pretty decent. Not Michelin star but decent," he suggested.

"I just need food, Logan, I'd be happy with anything that resembles food right about now," she said.

"Well that it certainly does," he noted, a little awkwardly. He'd never really had to make small talk with Rory before, yet in this setting, after what happened, it felt weird just to fall back into their usual banter. It was as if they were old friends, hell, they were more than old friends, but with baggage, long lost baggage.

"Okay if I order some wine for the table?" he asked.

"Sure," she replied hastily, without really thinking things through. All she knew was, she needed to ease her nerves.

"We'll get the Haywire Sauvignon Blanc, and I'll get the day's special," he ordered from the waitress.

"I'll get the carbonara pasta and the cheesecake. Oh, and a latte with the cake please," she said.

"So, Ace, Rory," he began hesitantly.

"Either is fine, Logan," she said, seeing him struggle.

"How have you been?" he asked.

"Alright I suppose. No huge breaks or anything. I'm freelancing mostly, and got a fixed term contract with the New York Times, until one of their reporters gets out of maternity leave. It's thanks to them I'm here," she explained.

"Yea, I've read a few of those stories. They were pretty good," he noted, thanking the waiter for pouring out their wine. Rory gulped down half a glass of her wine hastily - she was thirsty for one thing, but she also needed to relax.

"How's life in the HPG? I've got to say, I never thought you'd cave," she noted perhaps a little too bluntly.

Logan laughed at her question. It was good old Ace alright. Someone who knew the backstory and who didn't need it to be spelled out for her how complicated his relationships with the family business and his dad were.