I know I shouldn't be posting a new story, but I can't help it. Today is my birthday and to honor that fact I've decided to post a story that has been on my computer for a while. As the total girly-girl I am, I think it would be insanely romantic to meet the love of my life on an airplane. So, I've always wanted to use that in a story. I've also wanted to write a more Logan-central story for a while, though I might do a Rory's POV, too, depending on your collective input. Keep in mind, even though both from Society, Logan & Rory have never met before. I'm excited about this one. Let me know if you are, too. Please, please please review!

Love,

Gilmoregirl19

PS: I do not own GG.

Round One: Last Name

Logan Huntzberger resentfully took a sip of his complementary business class champagne. He absolutely hated flying commercially; after all, he had the entire Huntzberger Jet Fleet at his convenience. Not only was he flying commercial, he was flying business class since his father's secretary, Marci had let him know that there were not any first class tickets available due to the unfortunate timing of this trip.

Logan was wise enough not to argue with his father. Mitchum Huntzberger was all business all the time and the short itinerary conformation Logan had received from Marci did nothing to take away from that carefully crafted image. It was also Marci that had called him at three o'clock in the morning to inform him that his father's dearest friend had passed and that Logan's presence was required at the funeral.

In this case, it was faster for him to take the British Airways' morning flight out of Heathrow to JFK and be chauffeured up to Hartford, Connecticut. Logan himself had never met the deceased as Logan was practically British after spending most of his school years in the U.K. in the relative seclusion of private school and prestigious university.

Apart from a rare summer or odd Christmas spent in Hartford, Logan never returned to his family's home. Frankly, it wasn't his home. His parents never took the time to get to know him. He'd much rather spend time with his friends, though he never fully embraced the playboy persona fitting of an heir.

His lifestyle was a paradox. He hated everything Society stood for, but at the same time, he knew he couldn't do without. He had money and with that everything at his finger tips. He frequented exclusive clubs and easily dropped a few thousand dollars on drinks for the evening. He couldn't live without his new I-Phone or the latest sports car. He travelled the world, stayed in exclusive hotels and dated as extravagantly as the social blogs described in great detail.

In the United Kingdom he had managed to stay somewhat under the radar, with his group of American Socialites, as the UK actually had legitimate royalty to scrutinize. Logan knew that if he had been raised in the United States his playboy ways would be much more pronounced. He was grateful since it was an internal battle he constantly fought. What did he do to deserve this life?

Another thought that crossed Logan's mind daily was his pending return to the homeland. It was going to happen one day as he lived a predetermined fate. One day, he would take over his rightful position as the King of All Media. He had hoped to stay away as long as possible, but after an unfortunate prank gone too far his father had decided that the time had come to start his official grooming. All it took was a brief phone call and a courier with several business documents to mark the first steps in Logan's return to reality. At the ripe old age of 23 Logan Huntzberger had gained control of the London Publication.

Granted, it was a very small slice of the Huntzberger Pie. Barely a sliver, really, but Logan had never felt comfortable with it. He knew countless people that hoped to have their own sliver of Huntzberger fame and fortune and he got his handed to him on a platter, simply because he had taken his mischievous a step too far. To top it off, writing and journalism weren't his passion. He didn't know what it was, either, because he had never put any energy into finding out what his true passion was. He knew it would be futile.

He had always imagined that his return to Hartford would be under pleasant circumstances, like his father finally green-lighting Logan's idea to have Huntzberger Publishing branch out into the music industry. But, no, the death of his father's dearest friend marked his return. Flying business class, sipping champagne from a plastic flute. He hated the fact that his father was using his friend's death as a publicity stunt, but what did he expect? He knew that this was how Society operated.

A beautiful girl entered the airplane, dragging him from his melancholy thoughts and self-pity.

'Ew,' the girl said in a tone that Logan immediately recognized as American Society, 'Really, if you can't afford to fly first, why fly at all?'

Logan laughed silently. This girl had a point. It was apparent she was from Society. If her stance didn't give her away, her Gucci sunglasses and baby pink Birkin bag sure did. Her tone and the bug-eye sunglasses covering her porcelain face weren't exactly a turn-on, but Logan was intrigued as to why such a stunning creature of Society would end up flying business class like him.

Besides, he liked meeting new people up to a certain point. He had no desire to mingle with the ladies in coach or even in business class, really. He had a strict policy, which meant he only 'dated' women of his standard. It was shallow, but the only way to ensure these women weren't complete gold diggers and ensured he had some common ground with the fairer sex for the post-sex chitchat.

This new girl definitely met his standards and he decided that she'd be his perfect match, at least for the duration of the 7-hour flight to JFK.

Logan took a sip of his cheap champagne and kept his eyes firmly locked on the Society Creature. He noticed her tone changed as she continued talking quietly into her cell-phone.

'I know, Mom,' she spoke in a much softer tone, 'I'm on my way. No, no, it's fine. The jet… it's not important. I just need to get home, okay? Yeah, I will. Love you,' she stopped directly before Logan as she ended the phone call.

'Excuse me,' she spoke softly, almost sadly, 'I'm 6B.'

The young Huntzberger let his eyes linger on her face for a moment, wanting to see behind her sunglasses. He immediately sensed that this girl was not the Society Queen her airplane entrance made her out to be. He knew she had to be a beautiful girl. Her hair was tied up in a bun, her skin flawlessly pale and her lips slightly pink lipstick stained. She was wearing loose fitting jeans and layered a pink and white long sleeve shirt, complementing her pale pink Birkin tote. She was wearing black ballerina flats, which matched the black coat she hung over her right arm.

'Logan,' the young Huntzberger said cockily as he extended his hand, shaking hers briefly before gallantly getting up and letting the mysterious girl sit down.

She didn't speak, but granted him a tiny smile. He watched in amazement as she sat down, immediately traded her ballet flats for fuzzy socks, which she pulled out of her expensive designer handbag. She undid her bun, switched off and tossed her cell in the bag, pulled out her I-Pod, but leaving on her shades and fastening her seat belt. Rarely, if ever, did a girl fail to melt at the schmoozing power bestowed upon the young Logan Huntzberger. He didn't know what to make of this situation, so he silently took his place next to Mystery Girl again.

'Champagne,' she mumbled softly, after a few moments of silence. She raised her hand in an attempt to attract the attention of the flight attendant, but it was useless. The mid-twenty British bubblegum blonde was flirting with a Suit from California.

'Excuse me, Miss,' Logan spoke in a silky smooth tone in the general direction of the flight attendant and smiled inwardly, knowing that his charm wasn't on the fritz as the Blonde immediately dropped the Suit and sashayed over to him.

'How can I be of assistance?' she said making this simple query into one of questionable nature.

Logan ignored the flight attendant's attempt at flirting, and gestured to his seatmate. He had sensed the desperation for alcohol in her tone - a feeling he was all too familiar with - but he thought it would be too forward to go ahead an order her drink.

'I'd like a few glasses of champagne please,' the girl ordered without shame, causing Logan to smirk.

"Ma'am," the flight attendant said curtly, "You are only to have one drink at a time." She didn't hear the exasperated, society sigh the girl let out as she had her attention focused on Logan, "Would you like anything, sir?"

He groaned inwardly. Regulations on complimentary drinks, the snippy attitude of the flight attendant, the not-so-subtle flirting. He could have sworn he saw Mystery Girl smirk at him.

"Aren't the drinks on this flight and in this class complimentary?' he looked up at the flight attendant. She was startled by his suddenly icy tone. "This it is not your place to question how many of said beverages we wish to consume, as long as we are not a nuisance to this flight!"

Logan's firm tone sparked life into the flight attendant as she instantly made her apologies and ran off to fetch more than a few plastic flutes of champagne.

"Thank-you," the mystery girl said suddenly, turning to Logan.

"No problem," he sighed, breathing out his frustration and making room for things of a more important nature.

"I'm Rory," Mystery Girl said, removing her fashionable bug-eye glasses, "And you do a dead-on impression of my Grandmother."

Logan smiled and nodded knowingly. He too had a Grandmother, one who talked in a similar fashion. He noticed a slight sadness in her big blue eyes, but decided not to ask about the matter. This girl, Rory, was his in-flight entertainment and by her saddened eyes, he knew she was definitely in need of cheering up.

He would see how far he could take her during this flight and planned to drop her as soon as the plane hit the tarmac. If he was really into it he would see her to the town car he knew was waiting on this Society Princess to whisk her away to whatever brought her to America. He wondered if it was for business or pleasure, a quick visit or if she was heading home after a trip.

The flight attendant arrived with four champagne flutes and a box of chocolate covered strawberries.

"Our compliments," the flight attendant said stoically before turning on her heel, leaving the pair alone.

Smiling, Rory took a bite of her strawberry before downing her champagne in one sip. "She must have checked out last names,"

He shot her a bemused look.

"What?" she shrugged, "You've never seen a girl drink champagne before? I told you I hated flying." She took another strawberry, "And I don't know what your last name is, but you know it's true."

At this, Logan let out a genuine laugh. He was impressed. Impressed that the girl seemingly had a hearty appetite for the beverages he so dearly loved and impressed that she clearly knew the Society game. And, judging by her tone, she felt the same way about it as he did. He instantly felt a wave of attraction.

He proceeded to take a strawberry from the tray, and a champagne flute.

"Well," he said, as he clinked his glass to hers, "To our last names."

"To our last names," she agreed, shooting him a flirtatious smile.

Logan shot her a devilish smirk. Game on.

So? And don't worry. The Not So Simple Life & New York Night WILL be updated SOON!