Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/52096.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      Multi
  Fandom:
      Heroes_-_Fandom
  Relationship:
      Nathan/Peter, Peter/Claire, Claire/Nathan
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-01-17 Words: 5236
****** In The Blood ******
by kathrynthegreat
Summary
     Two first times and a last time.
Notes
     Spoiler warnings through "Into Asylum". This fic would not exist
     without the help and encouragement of my beta,
     [[info]]
eeyore9990. Written for the [[info]]heroes_exchange Secret_Santa_09!
Nathan can't remember the last time he's been this happy to be home. His mother
is as domineering and manipulative as ever, and his father still tries to run
his sons' lives like some kind of political campaign. Within an hour of
stepping through the front door, the family retreats to different parts of the
house to brood alone with alcohol. Still. It's better than being alone at law
school. He had missed his brother, and admitting it to himself only made it
worse. Sometime between his career with the Navy and his second round of
college, Nathan's baby brother had grown up.
It's always been his job to look out for his brother. But Peter is no longer
the kid with big eyes that had followed him around when they were children. The
knowledge of all the time spent apart and the years lost in their relationship
settles on Nathan's chest like a solid lead weight. Nathan loves his brother,
but he doesn't know anything about the young man that greeted him earlier in
the day. Never refusing a challenge, Nathan sets out with one goal in mind: to
know Peter again and rekindle a friendship that he never knew he would miss
until he realized it was gone.
He heads up the stairs to Peter's bedroom, an icy cold beer in each hand,
hopeful he can reconnect with one of the few people he actually cares about. If
he can salvage this relationship, he'll count the holiday a success and return
to law school with his mind at ease. When he reaches Pete's partially open
door, he knocks once and shoves it open the rest of the way with the toe of his
shoe.
The room has changed little since the last time he saw it. If anything it is
cleaner than he remembered, fewer posters on the walls but a bookcase
overflowing with books and a small pile of dirty clothes in the hamper. There
are no baseball cards he knows Pete used to collect or airplane models his
brother used to spend hours building.
"Busy?" he asks, setting a beer on the desk where Pete's hunched over a
notebook, scribbling away. He doesn't look up from what he's doing, only grunts
something unintelligible and keeps on writing. "Peter?"
"Sorry, Nathan." Peter snaps the notebook closed and tosses it to the floor.
"Thanks." He grabs the beer and takes a swig, grimacing at the taste.
"Homework?" Nathan says, sitting on the bed. He unknots his tie and smiles.
"It's Christmas. Take a break. Have a conversation with me."
Peter grins and shakes his head. "Just something I'm working on."
"School okay?" He doesn't like the way Peter tenses at the word; it's a subtle
change, but there all the same. "Anything I can help you with?"
"School's fine. Everything's going well."
Nathan can smell the lie and he frowns, sipping at his beer when Peter falls
silent again.
"You know you can talk to me about anything, don't you, Pete?" He watches his
brother's face for more clues, but Peter only nods and stares at his hands.
"Not school, then. Okay. Well, I know Mom and Dad are always a problem, but not
one I can do much about. So that leaves drugs and girls."
Peter laughs and the sound lifts Nathan's heart. He's missed this, the bond
between brothers, a trust that he has with no one else in the world.
"Girls it is, then." He finishes his beer and leaves it on the nightstand,
giving his full attention to Peter. "Start talking."
He watches as Peter rises, stretching his hands toward the vaulted ceilings,
stifling a yawn before joining him on the bed. The mattress dips with Peter's
weight and they bump shoulders briefly, and then Nathan leans back so he can
watch when Peter starts talking.
"There's not really anything to say." Peter rubs his palms on his jeans, and
his lips quirk into that half smile that Nathan knows so well. "I mean-"
"I thought you were dating the Lawsons' daughter?" Nathan interrupts, confused
about what the problem could be. "She's gorgeous. All the girls in that family
are."
"Yes, she is. It's not that. I like her. I like her a lot, actually. I just..."
Peter runs his fingers through his hair. It's long and shaggy, and Nathan
wonders why their mother hasn't forced him to cut it. "I'm scared of... I want
to, but I don't know what to do."
"What exactly are we talking about, Peter?" Nathan tries to sound encouraging,
but Peter's evasiveness is starting to grate on him. "You can tell me anything.
You know that, right?"
Peter nods and rubs his mouth, lost in thought. "I'm .... still a virgin.
Okay?" He gets up and shuts the door, thumbing the lock and standing there,
looking a little lost and very embarrassed.
"What?" Nathan doesn't mean to sound harsh, but he can't help himself. "Are you
kidding me?"
"No." Peter leans against the wall and slumps his shoulders. "No, I'm not."
Nathan can't believe what he's hearing. He knows Peter is different than he had
been at that age, but a senior in high school and still a virgin? His mind
boggles. He can't imagine why Peter hasn't had sex yet.
"Your sixteenth birthday, when I bought you that prostitute?" he asks, still
disbelieving what his brother is saying. "Come on!"
"I don't want to talk about that. You asshole!" Peter blushes and scrubs his
face with his hands. "I still can't believe you did that!"
"You didn't fuck the hooker? Why the hell not? She's a professional, for
crissakes; it's what she does!" Nathan rolls his eyes and laughs. He can't help
it. Only his little brother would pass up a chance like that. "So what did you
do with her?"
"I-" Peter stammers and then speaks quickly as if to get it all out and over
with. "I didn't want my first time to be like that. She was real nice about it.
We talked. And I rubbed her feet. You saw the heels she was wearing."
"You had a five thousand dollar conversation?" Nathan rubs his eyes to fend off
the headache he knows is coming. "So what are you looking for for your first
time? 'Cause I have to tell you, it doesn't get much better than that."
"Sex is a big deal to me, Nathan. It's supposed to be with someone I love," he
answers sheepishly, "and who loves me."
Nathan groans and sits up straighter. "It's just sex. Honestly, it's not all
that big a deal."
"It is! It's important to me. I don't want to do that with just anybody!" Peter
sighs. "Everyone knows that first times are-" He stops, searching for the right
words, "-awkward and clumsy."
"All the more reason to get it over with!" Nathan exclaims, trying desperately
to keep his voice down. "Okay, so it is important. But not enough to make you
live like a monk. Jesus, Pete!"
"I knew you wouldn't understand." Peter drops back down on the bed before
continuing. "Everything comes easy for you."
Nathan holds up a hand, gathering his thoughts like a closing argument. "That's
not true, Peter. The only difference between me and you is that when I see an
opportunity, I take it." He falls back on the bed, bouncing once and chuckling.
"If you want to wait for true love, that's your prerogative. You may never get
laid," he continues as he turns towards his brother, "but there is honor in
that, I think."
Peter lies back too, his hair falling in his eyes. "It should be easy, you
know?" And then he's lunging forward, his mouth hitting Nathan's off-center
even as his eyes, wide with something like fear, twitch at the corners.
"Well. That's new." Nathan realizes that probably wasn't the most helpful
comment he could make, so he brushes it aside and reaches for Peter to reassure
him in other ways. He knows this is wrong and maybe not the right way to go
about things, but when he looks at Peter, he understands the risk his brother
is taking. Rejection is the last thing he needs. If this is Nathan's chance to
make Peter happy, he'll take it and never look back.
He wraps his arms around Peter and draws him in close, nuzzling his neck and
pressing their bodies together. Peter moans, his fingers digging painfully into
Nathan's shoulders. "Shh. Relax, Pete. Everything's okay," Nathan whispers in
his brother's ear, then nips on the lobe and smooths it over with his tongue.
Peter begins to shake, but Nathan can't tell if it's from lust or nervousness;
regardless, he doesn't stop. He threads his fingers through Peter's hair and
looks deep into his eyes before kissing him again, this time going slow,
dipping his tongue into Peter's mouth and taking a taste.
Nathan breaks free for a moment and sits up, dragging Peter with him. He lifts
Peter's sweater over his head and tosses it across the room. Peter fumbles with
the buttons on Nathan's shirt and tugs on his tie before Nathan shoves his
hands away and takes care of it himself.
"Take your pants off, Peter." It's not loud, but it's a command and Peter
doesn't question it, unbuttoning his fly and sliding his jeans and boxers down
and off his legs.
"Oh, God," Peter pants, unable to catch his breath. "Oh, God. Nathan--"
"Breathe, Peter. Breathe." Nathan's half worried he'll pass out before they
even get to the fun stuff.
He keeps his pants on and that suits him fine for now; all his concentration is
on Peter. His pulse beats in his ears like the flutter of a butterfly's wings,
and he takes a breath himself as he caresses Peter's face and moves closer,
hyper aware of where their bodies touch. The feel of skin on skin sends shocks
of pleasure down Nathan's spine. Somewhere in his brain he knows this isn't
right, but the thought is far away and hard to concentrate on when his brother
is splayed out beneath him, too tempting to ignore.
They kiss, hot tongues and lips, Peter wrapping his arms around Nathan's back,
drawing him closer and digging his fingers into Nathan's skin. When they pull
apart to breathe, Nathan licks his lips and whispers, "Easy. We've got all
night." But he already knows that neither of them will last very long at this
rate. He takes Peter's engorged cock in his hand, rubbing his thumb along the
underside and across the head. The sound that Peter makes is both alarming and
gratifying. Knowing time is of the essence, Nathan stands up and drops to his
knees, nudging Peter's legs open with his shoulders.
"This is what you've been missing." Nathan lowers his head and licks down
Peter's length, tonguing the tip and then opening his mouth and sucking. He's
encouraged by the gibberish words Peter is spouting, so he keeps going, setting
a slow rhythm and then palming his brother's balls with one hand.
"Nathan!" Peter cries out.
It's too loud and they've gone too far to stop now. Nathan redoubles his
efforts and reaches up to cover Peter's mouth. Another shout like that will
bring their mother, or worse, their father. There are some discussions even
Nathan doesn't want to contemplate arguing his way out of. He nearly chokes
when Peter's lips part and he sucks Nathan's fingers into his mouth, mimicking
everything Nathan is doing. The moment is more erotic than anything that's ever
happened to Nathan before, and he thinks that later he'll laugh over how it was
with his brother.
He feels teeth scrape the pads of his fingers when Peter bites down, and then
he's coming in Nathan's mouth, his whole body shaking, his back bowing at the
last. Nathan swallows twice and strokes the base of Peter's cock, urging him
through his orgasm. He releases him finally with a soft pop and crawls up the
bed, reclaiming his spot beside Peter.
"That was incredible," Peter whispers, his eyelids heavy and his face slack.
Nathan likes the awe in his voice but can't help but roll his eyes and laugh.
"Don't you dare pass out on me." He moves forward and presses his face into
Peter's neck. "We're just getting started."
 
---
 
She kind of won't let him out of her sight, and Peter hates to admit it, but
he's enjoying the attention.
"This place is huge. I always thought people who lived in New York had tiny
apartments." She's running her finger down the spines of books older than she
is, and a small frown graces her mouth and her eyebrows draw together. "You
grew up here?"
"Yeah, but I have my own place in the city." He shuffles his feet and looks at
anything in the room but her. "It's small..." He lets his voice trail off, not
sure where he was going with this.
Claire laughs nervously; it sounds high and false bouncing off the vaulted
ceilings of his mother's sitting room. "Maybe you can take me there?" She stops
talking, distracted by something else in the room. "When all of this is over."
She's moved on to the mantle, studying the framed family protrait taken the
previous year. He hates the way he looks in photographs. His smile is crooked
and he always has his hair in his eyes. He remembers to answer her. "Yeah,
sure. Anytime." It seems appropriate and noncommital, but the words seem
hollow, even to him.
"I don't look like..." She pauses for a moment as if trying to find the right
words, "...like the rest of the family." Her hand reaches self-consciously for
her curly blonde hair as she looks over her shoulder at him.
The play of emotions across her face nearly breaks his heart. There is
confusion and hurt there, but mostly he recognizes doubt. She wants to belong,
be embraced by her newly discovered family. Peter knows she is in for a severe
disappointment, especially where Nathan and his mother are concerned. As much
as he loves them, he knows that to outsiders they often appear cold and
detached, something Claire is going to have to deal with now that she's a part
of the Petrelli family.
Peter smiles and runs his hand through his hair as an idea occurs to him.
Without a word to his niece, he turns on his heel and walks out of the room. He
knows his plan is working when he hears her footfalls behind him and she asks,
"Where are you going?"
He ignores her and leads the way up the stairs, through the guest wing and into
a closet that has a hidden door. The doorknob squeaks and the paint sticks, but
Peter manages to push the door open and step up the small staircase. The air
smells musty and stale, dust motes dance in diluted sunlight, and when his eyes
adjust, he can make out piles of boxes and old furniture from his family's
past. Claire is right on his heels, and when he stops she bumps into him and
apologizes.
"We are like any other family." He speaks as he moves carefully in the cramped
space. "Only our family has so many skeletons that we had to move the closet to
the attic." Peter chuckles at his own joke and shakes his head, but he hopes
she gets his point. For all the shiny exterior the Petrellis have, they are as
dysfunctional and insane as everyone else.
"Is that a highchair?" she asks, pointing in a corner and walking around him.
"Probably. My mom never throws anything away, so everything ends up here."
Peter sneezes into the crook of his arm and rubs his eyes. "I apologize for the
dust."
Claire is elbows deep in a box, rifling through old photos. There's a
determination on her face that reminds him of Nathan, and he thinks that it
won't be too long before other people start to see the resemblance. She shoves
the pictures back in the box and sighs, wiping her hands on her jeans as she
stands up. "I don't think they like me."
Peter knows she believes it, but he knows it's not true. Unfortunately there
isn't any way for him to explain things to her any better than he already has.
She's going to have to figure out the Petrellis herself. "I like you," he
states sincerely, hoping she will believe him.
"That's a start, I guess." She turns her head to look at him and in the process
trips over an antique steamer trunk that's been up there as long as Peter can
remember.
"Careful!" But it's too late, she's sprawled across the top with her feet in
the air. "I thought cheerleaders were supposed to be graceful." He reaches for
her hand and pulls her upright, pressing their bodies together from hip to
chest in the process. "Good thing you can heal." His teasing tone disappears
quickly when he looks into her eyes.
Claire's blushing and giggling at herself, trying to untangle cobwebs from her
hair and she's beautiful. Peter leans down and kisses her. He can't help it.
Maybe it will show her how he feels, and that's reason enough to try. Her
response is all the reason he needs; she opens her mouth and tilts her head,
inviting him in. Peter opens his eyes and twines his fingers in the belt loops
of her pants and manages to step-shuffle them over to a covered sofa in the
corner without either of them tripping over anything.
All the second thoughts he's having fall away at the feel of her timid fingers
touching his chest. She plays with the buttons of his shirt, as if unsure of
herself or what to do next, and Peter's decision is made in that instant. He
breaks away from her and lifts her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Do you
want this, Claire?" He won't go any further until she answers, but the wait is
killing him.
"Yes. Yes, I do." She speaks loud and clear, gasping when he draws her closer,
letting her feel his growing erection against her abdomen.
He's wanted her from the first moment he set eyes on her back in Texas, and he
plans to make that perfectly clear to her now. They have been leading up to
this all along: the innocent flirting, the shared secrets, and his constant
need to be around her. All of it. This time when he kisses her, he cups her
face, exploring her mouth with his tongue, showing her with his body all his
intentions.
Her shirt comes off first and is thrown over his shoulder. Next is her bra,
exposing her breasts to his mouth and fingers. Her jeans take a bit more
effort, but Peter helps her wiggle until they bunch at her ankles, along with
her panties. He admires all that exposed skin, soft under his fingertips where
he lets his hands linger, pushing her knees apart so he can explore more fully.
Claire's head falls back and she moans while his fingers spread her open, slick
with her arousal. He inserts one finger and then another, working them until
she starts to thrust her hips in time with his hand.
She's so tight he's fairly sure she's a virgin, and his mind spins with the
implications. They should stop. He should stop. But he doesn't want to.
Instead, he grasps her hips and pulls her up, guiding her to lean over. "Grab
hold," he whispers in her ear. Claire does what he asks, a blush coloring her
face when her eyes catch his in a freestanding mirror that's positioned just
behind the couch. Peter looks into it and sees their reflection given back to
them a million times over due to the placement of yet another mirror that lines
the wall behind him.
He doesn't remember his mother ever having this many mirrors... and then he
shakes his head to stop himself from wondering just who Nathan had been up here
with for the mirrors to be in this particular arrangement. Claire sighs and
pushes back against him, drawing his attention back to her, and he thumbs her
clit just to listen to her moan.
Claire's knuckles go white and she balances on her toes, her lips parted and
eyes blown dark with lust. He likes the control this position gives him, not to
mention it will keep them from rolling around in dirt and God-only-knows what
else. All practicality aside, he's about to fuck his niece, and he doesn't miss
the irony. He unbuckles his pants and shoves them down, happy he remembered his
wallet in his back pocket and the emergency condom located within.
"What are you doing?" Claire asks, uncertainty creeping into her tone.
"Protection." Peter rolls the condom onto his cock, fingers pinching the end.
"I was a Boy Scout, always be prepared."
Her throaty laughter breaks the tension that's been building between them, and
Peter starts touching her again, running his hands down her shoulders and back,
his mouth kissing everywhere he can reach. He pulls her back against him,
allowing the slippery length of his condom-sheathed cock to slide along her
ass, drawing a low moan from her. He knows he won't last long if she keeps
making those sounds, so he winds one hand around her throat--lightly--and
murmurs, "Shhh, beautiful."
Claire glares at him over her shoulder. "Then hurry up." He would be worried he
upset her, but her quick smile and quirked eyebrow show how close she is to
giggling.
This he thinks, this is why I love her. And then he lines their bodies up and
thrusts hard, entering her smoothly, burying himself to the hilt. All the air
whooshes out of her lungs in a loud exhale, and he thinks it must hurt her. The
angle and how tight she is around him is keeping him riding the edge of
pleasure-pain, but he moves, pulling out slowly and then easing back in. Easier
this time, and he's so close he bites his lips for distraction.
"Claire..." He wants to apologize for everything, for this fucked-up family
she's now a part of. For her first time being a secret in a moldering attic
amongst forgotten castoffs. For wanting this so much. She rocks back, meeting
his next thrust, and he's done, coming so hard he sees stars when he closes his
eyes. "Fuck."
He looks up and meets her stare in the mirror once again. Her face is flushed
and her eyes are half-lidded, but that is quickly replaced with a grimace of
dissappointment. This was her first time and he failed her. "I'm sorry. I'm so
sorry." He lowers his head and kisses between her shoulder blades while
wrapping his shaking arms around her. She melts into his embrace and sighs.
"I'll make it up to you. I promise."
Claire turns and punches him in the arm. "You'd better."
 
---
 
She's never been to Mexico before, and so far her first impression isn't all
that great. It's hot and sticky and she feels like a fish out of water because
she doesn't speak the language. The whole situation is beyond ridiculous, and
she has trouble thinking about it without giving herself a migraine. Her life
had turned truly bizarre in the past year, but this is weird even by her
standards. If Nathan had meant his daring rescue to impress her, it had worked.
Truth be told, it had been every fantasy she had ever dreamed of as a child
growing up, knowing she was adopted. She hadn't hesitated to leap out the
window and into his arms.
He's here for me. Came to rescue me.
And now the realities of that leap of faith are staring her in the face in the
form of a disgusting hotel room and a drunk Nathan Petrelli. Despite all that
has gone wrong, she can't help how happy she is to be here. To have Nathan all
to herself and be the center of his attention. If anything, his vulnerabilities
and mistakes make him more real to her, more human.
He's staggering around like the world is spinning and he's about to fall off
the edge. It's all Claire can do to get him up the stairs and into their room.
How he could fly like that and not crash is a mystery she'll never figure out,
but she had held on, trusting he wouldn't drop her, or worse, forget the way
back.
And here they are, back to being awkward with each other while he tries not to
slur his sentences and she pretends not to notice.
"That was very clever of you." Nathan stands up straighter where she's propped
him against the wall and blinks before continuing. "What you did. You know."
Claire takes it as a compliment and tries to think of what to do now; it's late
and they should sleep before they leave tomorrow. "Come on, Nathan. Let's get
some rest before morning."
Nathan nods and nearly falls over in the process. Claire catches him just in
time and shoves him back against the wall, wedging her body against his to hold
him upright. "Are you going to be sick?" she asks suddenly, unsure if they will
make it to the bathroom in time in his current state.
"No, mm fine," he mumbles and closes his eyes.
"Nathan, wake up! I need to get you to the bed!" She gives him a shake,
relieved when he opens his eyes and appears more alert. "Can you get your shoes
off?" Claire has never been 'the parent' to anyone before and discovers she
likes it. Nathan toes off his shoes and looks proud of himself. "Good."
His vest is next, and he watches her with unfocused eyes as she unbuttons it
and pulls it down his arms. She could stop there, she knows; he won't be
uncomfortable in the rest of the clothes he's still wearing, but she continues
on, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it out of his pants. It takes more effort
to get the sleeves down and off his arms than the vest, and there is a
considerable amount of yanking on her part and pulling on his. A cufflink pops
free and pings across the floor before disappearing on the floorboards.
"Sorry."
Claire tries to look for it around their feet, but Nathan grabs her hands,
holding her still. "Don't worry about it." His breath blooms across her neck,
and their close proximity is suddenly too close. She can feel the thump of his
heartbeat against her cheek and see the tiny hairs curling on his chest where
his t-shirt doesn't cover. He's never been so real to her before, and she
doesn't want to move away. She doesn't know if she'll ever have this chance
again, this time with him that is theirs alone.
It's selfish, she knows, taking advantage of him like this, but it doesn't stop
her from stretching up on her toes and pressing her lips to his. For half a
second she thinks he may have passed out again, but when she opens her eyes he
is looking back at her, unblinking and very aware of what she is doing. Claire
freezes, holding her breath and waiting for what will come next. A polite shove
or an alarmed laugh. She expects both, or worse, embarrassed silence. An
eternity passes in a few seconds, and then he is kissing her back, sloppy and
wet, pushing the tang of tequila across her tongue.
They break apart and stumble in a tangle of limbs the few feet between them and
the bed. Nathan's weight falls on her, unrestrained and punishing, but before
she can complain he rolls on his side and starts to fumble with the zipper of
her jeans, his eyes never leaving hers, watching. She lifts up to help his
efforts and pulls her shirt over her head quickly; her bra is next, tossed to
the floor with Nathan's lost cufflink, and she is naked and wishes she had
remembered to turn off the light.
Nathan sits up and removes the rest of his clothes, the expression on his face
dangerous, like he's daring her to back down or look away. She likes the
challenge and lets her eyes drink their fill of his naked body. She decides he
is beautiful, as good-looking in his clothes as out of them, tanned skin and
muscular, her fingers itching to touch every inch. He strokes his cock while
she watches, and it grows hard under her gaze.
She has never been so turned on in her young life. Desire curls in her belly,
sending shivers down her spine and an almost uncomfortable feeling of moisture
between her thighs. Nathan is on top of her again before she can blink, this
time supporting his weight on his arms while he makes a place for himself by
spreading her legs with his knee. Their kisses start off soft and easy but
become biting and demanding within seconds. His hand spreads her open, and then
he is there, circling her clit with his thumb as he pushes a finger inside. "So
wet," he murmurs, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking.
Claire is already close, her skin buzzing with tension. She can't stop moaning
and before long she fears she'll start screaming his name. When he eases down
her body, biting and licking his way until his head is between her legs, she
almost tells him to stop, that it's too much to bear. She comes hard at the
first swipe of his tongue. "Oh my god!" The neighbors can probably hear her
shouting, but she doesn't care. Isn't that the point of no-tell motels? Nathan
doesn't stop what he's doing, and her over sensitized flesh forces her to push
him away.
"Not yet," he growls at her, pushing her flat on her back and lifting her legs.
"Not by a long shot."
She tosses her head on the pillow, agreeing with him in a litany of nonsense
words even as she reaches for him, needing to feel him against her. "God, fuck,
yes, NATHAN!" It doesn't sound like her voice at all, and it's out of her mouth
before she can think. He laughs and raises his eyebrows at her outburst.
"Such language." He kisses her like he's hungry and she's the best thing he's
ever tasted. He pushes into her and it is everything she ever wanted. Her voice
rises higher with each subsequent thrust until she feels her body flying apart,
her toes curling with pleasure, and from the way he stills above her, she knows
he's there with her.
It's not a fairytale, it's rough and wrong in more ways than she can count. Her
only regret is that it's the end. They'll wake up in the morning and pretend it
never happened. That they didn't share this thing between them.
Her last thought before the sweet oblivion of sleep claims her is that maybe
they had always been leading up to this. That the Petrellis love too hard and
too fast; it's in their blood. And even if it's just this one time, she'll take
it.
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one of those."
Her brows drew together. "TJ, I like you. I do. But you don't get to have say
over my class schedule, okay? I love shop, and I'm not dropping either one.
Auto is an easy A for me, and metal is where I do my work."
His mouth curved, and there was a nasty edge to it. She could tell she'd won,
but there would be a cost. "Of course. I'm sorry. I forgot about your little
junk projects."
There it was. She was so used to that attitude from nearly everyone (including,
despite his support in nearly every other area of her life, her dad) that she
let it roll off her. He thought he'd scored a hit, and that would exorcise his
bad mood so that they could enjoy their afternoon.
"Gimme a ride home and I'll put on something cute, then we can go to Lefties."
His face hit up. She hated Lefties, the after-school hangout of the prep kids
from both SanWa South and North, but he loved it. And he loved showing her off
there.
She preferred to spend her afternoons at TM, but of course that was impossible
with TJ. Not only did he hate everything SAMCRO, but they would chew him up and
spit him out if he so much as stepped a loafer-clad toe on the property. She
loved it there: the bikes, the shop, the guys. Even the crow eaters, who she
found fascinating. Not that she'd ever want to be a crow eater, just—the whole
thing was so cutthroat, these women vying over the men behind the scenes, all
trying to grab the coveted crown of old lady.
The fact that everyone just assumed Olivia and Opie would end up together, and
Opie would be the VP to Jax' club President one day, didn't hurt Olivia's
status around the place either. It might, one day, when Opie was old enough to
attract the eaters' attention, but for now she was just the cute kid in the
shop, and they loved playing with her hair and painting her nails—especially
since her mom died and they'd all sort of adopted her.
"Olivia!"
TJ's sharp voice penetrated her thoughts and she sat up straighter. "I'm sorry.
I was trying to decide what I should wear. What were you saying?"
He was slightly mollified that she was taking his "suggestion" so seriously, so
his answer wasn't as harsh as it might have been. "I just said how glad I am
you quit your job at that disgusting garage. It was vulgar, you working there
with all those men."
"Jax's mom was usually there, TJ," she said before she caught herself.
He made a face. "Gemma Morrow is a biker whore, Olivia. Is that really the type
of woman you want looking out for you?"
TJ hated Gemma. Hated with the type of passion most people reserved for the DMV
and taxes. Olivia had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with his father: maybe
Teddy had had a thing for Gemma back in high school, but Gemma only had eyes
for John Teller. The Flanarys could hold a grudge like nobody's business.
"Of course not. That's why I quit," she said, reciting the words by rote.
He patted her thigh, a bit more intimately than she might have liked. "That's
right," he said. "And it was the right thing to do, wasn't it?"
"Yep," she said. "I have so much more free time now. It's great."
"Exactly! Time to spend with me!"
"Which is just what I want," she said with one of those soft, sweet smiles that
had charmed better men that TJ Flanary—who was, after all, barely more than a
pouty boy. She leaned closer and raise her mouth for his kiss, and he was eager
to oblige.
He kissed hard, like he was out to punish her mouth, and he always used his
teeth. They scraped over her bottom lip, but she hid the wince. The first time
he'd kissed her like this she'd flinched, and she'd learned there were few
surer ways to ignite his temper.
He believed he was a lothario, and woe to anyone who made him feel otherwise.
So she kissed him back, but as he tried to grope her chest she pulled away.
"TJ," she said with a shy grin, "come on. Anybody could see."
"There's nobody around," he said and pulled her to him again.
She let him fumble at her t-shirt and her mind wandered. It was a balancing act
to keep TJ in check. One wrong step and he'd fly off the handle. She'd largely
learned how to manage him, but every once in a while she let her vigilance slip
and they ended up in a fight like today's. It had been minor, really, and she
was glad she'd thought to suggest Lefties.
His hand slid under her shirt and she grabbed it. "Whoa there, buckaroo," she
said. "No second base in the school parking lot. Come on; we need to get to
Lefties before all the good tables are taken."
He snorted. "As if I can't get a table!" But he settled into his seat and put
the car in gear.
As they pulled out she caught sight of a figure leaning against a burly black
motorcycle. He was lighting a cigarette—a big mistake on school property, she
would've told him—and as they went by he offered her a wry half-smile and a
sarcastic salute.
It was the new guy. Juice Ortiz. Fuck, she thought, her cheeks burning. From
his spot he probably saw everything, maybe even heard their raised voices as
they'd fought. Luckily TJ hadn't seen him, or she'd have to field even more
questions about who he was, how she knew him, why he dared to wave and smile
at TJ Flanary's girlfriend like she was just anybody. The "he's new and doesn't
know any better" defense might work, but she was glad she wouldn't have to use
it. She'd had enough of handling TJ for one day.
If she could navigate the minefield that could be Lefties—you talked too
much; you didn't talk enough; you laughed too hard; you didn't laugh hard
enough—she'd be home free.
He patted her knee and she cast him a distracted smile. "Sorry I was such a
jerk," he said.
"You weren't. I shouldn't have sat with Opie like that. And I should've looked
harder for you before I gave up."
"That's true," he said, "but still. I might've overreacted just a little. I
know you try." He smiled. "We could skip Lefties today if you want. There's
that movie you were talking about the other day? We could go see it instead,
and get something to eat after."
She hesitated. Her mind frantically scanned the last few minutes' conversation,
but she couldn't see where she might have fucked up. Maybe his offer was
genuine.
"I know how much you love it, though," she said. "And it's dollar strawberry
shake day." Strawberry was his favorite, and while he could afford to buy
literally every strawberry milkshake in the state of California, he also had a
frugal streak and loved to feel like he was getting a deal.
"True," he said. "But that's how much I care about you, babe. I want you to be
happy. Come on: let's drop by your place so you can change and let your dad
know what's up, and then we'll hit the theater. It'll be fun."
And she bought it, idiot that she was. She smiled and laced her fingers through
his and said sure, a movie sounded great. Lefties would be there tomorrow, and
sometimes it was better to make your adoring public wait, after all.
It was probably that last comment that saved her the worst of it.
Following the movie and dinner and a walk in the park he'd gotten quiet and
still and she knew trouble was coming. He spent the next hour in a diatribe
about her selfishness, and how he cared so much more about her happiness than
she did about his, and all he wanted was to show off his pretty girlfriend and
was that so awful? She never wanted to hang out with his friends and she didn't
even bother to dress well for him and was she so selfish she couldn't
let him have some fun for once? It was strawberry Thursday and they'd skipped
it to do what she wanted! He didn't see her making any sacrifices for him—like
dropping either auto ormetal shop, not both, he wasn't an asshole—and instead
just pranced around doing whatever she wanted with whoever she wanted.
She weathered it in silence, apologizing all the way, and when he'd finally
worn himself out he drove her home, walked her to her door, and gave her a
soft, loving kiss. He told her he was sorry for yelling, that he hated to yell
at her, but she knew how much he loved strawberry Thursdays at Lefties, and
maybe if she'd been more thoughtful he wouldn't have had to bring her home to
change and they would've been able to go there and the movie.
"And wouldn't that have been better, sweetie?" he said.
She nodded and apologized again. Another one of those gentle kisses and she
went inside. Mumbled something at her father and fled to her room where she
threw herself on the bed and cried herself to sleep, her homework forgotten and
her carefully applied makeup melting off her face and onto the pillow.
===============================================================================
Juice stubbed out his cigarette half-smoked and watched the red BMW pull out of
the parking lot. He'd recognized Olivia Gable inside, and the guy with her must
be the boyfriend. Jesus what a fuckin' douche.
It seemed like they were fighting about something, because when he'd first
noticed them the guy had been waving his arms around half-crazy, and while at
first she'd responded, eventually she'd just lapsed into this sort of vacant,
Barbie-like smile. Finally he kissed her and tried to grab her tits, and after
that things seemed to calm down.
The look on her face before she'd actually noticed him bothered him. She'd
looked…he didn't have a word for it, but he didn't think it was the face most
girls made when they'd just been making out with their boyfriend in his red
Beamer. But then her eyes had locked with Juice's and her expression had gone
smooth and neutral except for the flare of color across her too-pale cheeks.
"Hey, man, that your bike?" a familiar voice said from behind him.
Juice straightened and saw Jax Teller and Opie Winston headed his way. He
wondered where Tara was.
"Yeah," he said. "Back home this guy in my old neighborhood kept it in our
hall, and one day he told me if I painted his apartment I could have it. So I
did. Been fixin' it up ever since."
Opie let out a low whistle. "Nice." He smacked Jax on the arm. "Ollie'd like to
get a load of this."
"She'd like the custom work," Jax said. "Hey, you should come by my mom and
stepdad's shop sometime. Teller-Morrow. We work there after school most days."
"Sounds cool. Olivia work there too?"
Jax and Opie shared a quick glance. "Nah," Opie said. "She did, up until a
couple weeks ago. I guess her boyfriend didn't like it."
Juice made a face. "He a blond guy in a pink shirt who drives a red BMW?"
"That's him," Jax said with a glower. "Why?"
He shrugged a shoulder. "Just saw 'em together. Seemed like they were fighting,
maybe." He paused. "Guess it's none of my business, but she looked kinda…I
don't know. Weird. Not super happy."
Another look passed between the boys. Jax grimaced. Opie's mouth twisted. Jax'
brow quirked.
Finally Opie said, "Guy's an asshole. Also the richest little prick in the
county, so nobody can say anything to him—not even us. But he can't really say
anything to us, either, so we just all ignore each other."
Juice wondered what that meant. Who were Jax and Opie that the richest kid in
town couldn't fuck with them? Why did their names command so much respect? He
had a feeling, from what Opie had just said, it didn't have anything to do with
money.
"That why she's goin' out with him?" he said, his forehead wrinkling. "Because
he's rich?"
"Nah," Jax said. "I mean, probably not. Not really Ollie's style."
"Tara says she's experimenting," Opie said with a snort.
"Hm," Juice said, a brief, skeptical noise. Finally he hitched a shoulder.
"Well, like I said, not really my business. I should get home. Still have shit
to unpack."
"Cool, man," Jax said. "Tomorrow come with us to the shop. You need some extra
cash, we can find somethin' for you to do."
"Don't listen to him. He's just tryin' to pawn his hours off on somebody else."
Juice grinned. "Extra cash never hurt nobody. If you got work for me, I'm
down."
"Awesome. Oh, and tomorrow you should park by us." He pointed across the lot.
Two bikes stood side by side, and Juice's mouth quirked in appreciation.
"Sometimes people act like dickheads about motorcycles, try to knock 'em over
and shit. But nobody'll mess with yours if it's with ours."
"Hey, Teller!" a voice called from the school building.
Jax' attention was immediately on the speaker, and his face broke out in a
grin. Juice followed his eyes and saw Tara jogging their way, a matching smile
stretching her lips. She leapt at Jax and he caught her. They kissed for what
seemed like forever while Opie and Juice shared amused looks.
Finally they broke apart and Tara dropped her feet to the ground. "Hey, Ope,"
she said. "Juice. Good to see you again. Oh, this your bike?"
"Yup," he said.
"I invited him to TM tomorrow, babe. He said he might wanna work a bit."
She snorted. "Your mom's gonna be pissed to lose her free labor."
"True, but Gemma's always lookin' to adopt someone new," Opie said. "I think
they'll kinda cancel each other out."
Juice remembered what Opie had said about Jax' mom earlier—that she scared the
shit out of him—and he wondered if they were talking abut the same person.
Maybe Jax had two moms. And a stepdad. Weirder shit had happened, and this was
California.
Jax must've caught something in Juice's expression, because he clapped him on
the back. "Don't worry about Gemma, bro. She'll love you. Just don't call
her ma'am. Ever."
"Or Mrs. Morrow," said Opie.
"Just Gemma," Tara said.
"Er, right. I'll keep that in mind."
Jax threw his arm around Tara. "C'mon, baby," he said. "Let's head downtown and
I'll steal you somethin' real pretty."
"Such a romantic, Teller."
"Only the best for my girl," he said with a laugh.
"Later, man," Opie said. "If you get here before us tomorrow just park over
there. Don't matter where."
"Sure," he said. "Thanks." He wanted to say something else about Olivia, about
the sense of unease he had about her boyfriend, but he knew it wasn't his
place. Instead he just shook his head and buckled on his helmet. "Later," he
said as he mounted.
Jax tossed Tara over his shoulder and she whooped. They both waved as they
walked away, and Juice watched them go for a minute before he cranked the bike
and rolled out the lot.
He envied them. They seemed really happy, and Opie looked content to be the
third wheel. He wondered why Olivia was with the pink-polo wearing asshole
instead of Opie. Seemed like they'd make the perfect little foursome.
Not his business. He was just glad they'd accepted him into their group so
readily. He wondered why, but he thought it was probably better not to question
his good fortune. Back home his bike had been just another thing people had
given him shit about, but here it looked like it was a way in with Jax and
Opie.
And, from everything Juice had seen so far, that had to be a good thing.
===============================================================================
When Olivia got to the kitchen the next morning her dad was already there. He
had poured her a glass of juice and set the cereal box on the table. He worked
second shift at the lumber mill, but he always tried to be up to have breakfast
with her. Last night had been his day off, so he looked better rested than most
mornings.
She kissed his cheek as she went by, and he twisted in his chair to look at
her. "You look nice this morning, pumpkin," he said.
She wore a black flower-print baby doll dress and black combat boots. Her hair
hung down her back, and she'd pulled it off her face with a maroon velvet
headband. She'd taken extra care with her makeup, lining her bright eyes in
careful black and covering most of her freckles with foundation.
"Thanks, Daddy," she said. "You sleep well last night?"
"For once, yep." He studied her across the table. They had the same red hair,
but his eyes were blue; she'd gotten the green from her mother. Otherwise she
looked like a feminine version of him, and no one could ever mistake them for
anything but father and daughter.
"You okay, sweetheart?" he said. "You didn't have much to say when you got in
last night."
"Oh." She poured milk over her cereal and played with the spoon. "TJ and I had
a little fight, that's all. No big deal."
"Hhhmm. I hope it all works out okay."
"I'm sure it will," she said with a shrug. There was a familiar honk from
outside. "There he is now."
"You haven't eaten your breakfast," he said with a frown.
"Not hungry," she said and poured the cereal down the sink. She ran the water
and flipped on the disposal.
"Wait, Ollie, before you go—"
She paused at the door and turned back, her expression distracted. If TJ had to
honk twice it would not bode well for the rest of her day. Her father pulled
off his reading glasses and smiled at her.
"I know how hard you've been working at school, pumpkin, and I'm really proud
of you."
"Thanks, Dad, but—"
"I know. You're going to be late. I just wanted to tell you I've made a
decision about the Cougar."
Her eyes went wide. She'd been begging her father to let her drive her
grandpa's 1969 black Mercury Cougar since the day she got her learner's permit
two years ago.
"You make honor roll again this semester, and it's yours. I'll even pay the
insurance."
Her mouth fell open. "Daddy, are you serious?"
"Absolutely."
"Oh my God!" She flew at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Thank you
so much! I know I can do it. I did great on all of my midterms, and—"
"I know, pumpkin. That's part of what helped me decide."
Outside TJ honked again and Olivia bit her lip. "I've gotta go. Thank you. I
love you. Thank you!"
He laughed. "Get going. You're welcome and I'll see you tonight."
She hugged him one more time and ran for the door. Snagged her backpack from
where she'd hung it on the newel post and hurried out to the car.
TJ's scowl transformed into a smile when he saw her. "You look nice," he said.
She smoothed her skirt as she got into the car. "Thanks. You told me once you
like this dress."
His grin widened. "I do! You have very nice legs." He squeezed her thigh and
she resisted the urge to move his hand lower.
"I'm so sorry I made you wait," she said. "My dad needed to talk to me about
something."
"Oh?" he said. "Nothing bad, I hope."
"No, actually. He said if I make honor roll this semester he'll give me the
Cougar!"
His brows drew together and her excitement faltered. Oh shit. TJ hated the
Cougar. He thought it looked low-class, and was too much loud, brutish muscle
car for a girl.
"I suppose you can trade it in," he said in that neutral tone that always meant
trouble.
"I probably wouldn't be driving it much anyway. I mean, I have you…right?"
That seemed to restore his even keel. "Exactly. I can take you back and forth
from school, and I always drive when we got out—so where else would you need to
go?"
"Nowhere, really," she said.
"That's right." He turned into the school parking lot and into his usual spot.
He stopped her as she reached for the door handle. "You haven't forgotten about
the game tonight, right?"
"Of course not. I'm always at your games."
TJ was quarterback of the football team in addition to Homecoming King. It was
just another thing for Opie and Jax to tease her about.
He flashed his white, even teeth and kissed her. "Katie will pick you up at
five, so make sure you're ready."
"Katie?" she said. "Katie Adams?"
"What other Katie is there?"
She could think of three off the top of her head, but she knew he meant Katies
who mattered in high school hierarchy. "Um. I was going to go with Tara."
His jaw tightened and his bright blue eyes narrowed just a little. "Katie is
my friend, Olivia. I just assumed you would want to go to the game
with our group, and not…Tara Knowles." He said it like one might say pond
scum—and when he said our group, he meant his group, of course, because Olivia
had never hung out with Katie Adams in her life.
She touched his arm, a brief brush of her fingers. "I'd love to go with Katie.
It was sweet of you to arrange that." She kissed him on the cheek and he seemed
mollified. "I'll tell Tara I have other plans."
"Thank you, Olivia." He turned to look at her, and his head tilted. "You almost
got your freckles covered up. Getting there!"
TJ thought redheads should have flawless, porcelain skin, and while Olivia was
lucky enough to suffer from very few breakouts, her freckles bothered him.
She'd always liked playing around with makeup, so she didn't really mind it
that much.
"I love it when you wear your hair down like that."
"I know you do," she said. "I wanted to look nice, like we talked about
yesterday. Especially since it's game day."
"I can tell. Practically perfect." He kissed her and hopped out of the car. She
knew to sit still and wait, and sure enough a few seconds later her door
opened. She climbed out with a smile, and he grabbed her hand, squeezing hard
enough to make her flinch.
She saw Opie, Jax, and Juice by their bikes on the other side of the lot.
Tara's Cutlass had just pulled up nearby, and she hopped out and waved. TJ's
attention was elsewhere, so Olivia nodded in their direction.
"Oh, there are Katie and John," TJ said. John Patric was on the football team,
too, and he and Katie had been one of SanWa South's power couples since
freshman year. "Come on," he said and tugged her hand.
She followed after him with one more glance back at her friends. They watched
her go with puzzled expressions she could read even from this distance. She
shrugged a shoulder in a sort of helpless I'm sorry gesture before she smiled
up at TJ and fell into step beside him. He draped a possessive arm over her
shoulders, and she summoned a smile for his friends as he re-introduced them.
Katie Adams wore fashionable Guess? jeans and a loose-fitting color block
sweater that probably cost what Olivia's dad made in a week. The pert blonde
eyed Olivia up and down and offered a saccharine-sweet smile that didn't touch
her cornflower blue eyes.
"You look so cute today, Olivia. I think that combat boots and dresses look is
just so brave. Don't you, Becky?" she said to her best friend, Rebecca Alan.
Rebecca giggled. "Very Courtney Love," she said with an avid nod.
She refused to let these nasty little bitches with their expensive cars, flashy
clothes, and plastic noses drag her down. "Yeah, without all the needle
tracks," Olivia said with a wry smile.
John hooted out a laugh. "That's funny! Needle tracks! Good one, Olivia!"
It really wasn't that funny, but she smiled anyway. Then she caught sight of
TJ's expression: lips a tight, whitened line, eyes squinted; and she knew she'd
hear about it later. He wanted to show her off, but he didn't want her to take
the spotlight from him—and he sure as hell didn't want another guy paying her
any attention.
"You comin' to the game tonight, Olivia?" John said, making things worse in his
easy-going, affable way.
She opened her mouth, but TJ cut her off before she could speak. "She was, but
unfortunately she has other plans. A family thing."
Her jaw snapped shut. What…? He'd blind-sided her with that one, and she had no
idea what her next move should be.
Katie laughed and laced her arm through Olivia's. "Don't be silly, TJ! I'm sure
Olivia's smart enough to figure out how to get out of it. Don't worry, Olivia.
Becky and I will pick you up at five and we'll have so muchfun."
TJ looked exasperated, but Olivia knew he'd never argue with Katie. "I'll call
my dad during lunch," Olivia said. "I'll tell him I have to stay late for
something and I can't go to the—family thing—tonight."
"See?" Katie said to TJ. "I could tell she was smart, because the smartest
girls never feel the need to put as much as attention into the way they look.
It's only airheads like Becky and me who need to be pretty to attract a really
great guy like TJ."
"Don't worry, Katie," Olivia said in a voice like honey, "with the advances
they're making these days in plastic surgery, you'll be able to keep your looks
for a long, long time."
John guffawed. Becky giggled nervously, her dark eyes darting from Katie to
Olivia and back again. Katie looked like she'd swallowed a lemon, but the dig
had been so carefully wrapped in the compliment there wasn't really anything
she could say.
Olivia glanced over at TJ, and the thunderous look on his face told her she'd
pay for it later. At the moment, though, she didn't give a fuck. It was worth
it to knock Katie Adams down a peg or two.
***** Living Less *****
Chapter Summary
     Tara and Olivia spend the day in Stockton, and later Olivia and Juice
     have a frustrating conversation.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                                  give me up
                                   i confess
                       i feel as though i'm living less
                     the strangest gravity affects my way
                         because i was born incomplete
                            drowning in the brevity
                   kind of like the road you're traveling on
                     Better Than Ezra, "Everything in 2's"
Olivia had almost forgotten about Saturday's shopping trip to Stockton, and if
she hadn't decided to check her AOL when she first woke up she probably
wouldn't have remembered at all. She had several messages from Tara dated last
night, all asking where she was. Finally the last one said she was going to
bed, and she'd be by at ten to pick Olivia up.
It was nine-thirty. "Fuck," Olivia muttered.
She took the world's fastest shower and threw on a pair of torn jeans, one of
her dad's old Genesis concert tees (from before Peter Gabriel left the band, he
was always quick to remind her), with a cream and red plaid flannel button down
over it. Her hair in a thick braid down her back and the combat boots from
yesterday completed the look, and she was stabbing a pair of hoops into her
ears when she heard the Cutlass outside.
She shoved her wallet in her pocket and hurried outside. Tara waved when she
saw her, but her face scrunched when she got a closer look.
"Hey," she said as Olivia slid in next to her. She had on ragged cut-offs over
black tights, a white t-shirt, and boots almost identical to Olivia's. She'd
recently gotten her hair cut, and it fell around her face in careful layers.
"Hey. You look cute. Sorry about last night. I went to the game with a bunch of
TJ's friends and I didn't get in till late."
"Yeah," she said. "No big." She drummed her fingers against the wheel and put
the car in gear. "You okay? You look kinda beat."
Olivia waved a hand. "Didn't get a lot of sleep."
"Ohh," Tara said, laughing. "I see how it is."
She made a face. "Oh geez, no. Not like that."
Tara spared a moment to wonder why the idea of sleeping with her boyfriend
would make Olivia grimace quite that hard, but she didn't comment. Instead she
said, "We missed you yesterday. You didn't eat lunch with us, and we hardly saw
you at all."
"Yeah, I guess—um, I guess TJ likes us to have lunch together. He has free
period then."
TJ was a senior, so his lunch period was later than theirs, but somehow he'd
been able to rearrange his schedule to have free period and lunch back-to-back.
Some days Olivia thought there was nothing TJ Flanary wasn't able to talk
someone into.
"Right," Tara said, doubtfully. They were quiet while she merged onto the
highway, but once the car was cruising along she cast Olivia a quick glance.
"So if you weren't with TJ last night, why weren't you sleeping?"
"Didn't say I wasn't with him," she said, her eyes trained out the window.
"You guys get into another fight?"
She hitched a shoulder. Tara couldn't see her face, but she knew her body
language well enough to tell she didn't want to talk about it. She took a deep
breath and let it out slowly.
"Ollie, um. So we were talking yesterday—"
"About what?" she said and whipped her head around. "About me?"
"Well, yeah. Nothing bad, just—"
"Just what, Tara? Just that you don't like TJ? I know he's not a biker, and I
know he's got money, but really. I don't get why you guys hate him so much."
Tara wrinkled her nose. "It doesn't have anything to do with his money. We just
think he's a jerk."
She rolled her eyes and rubbed her forehead. "I swear the only thing that would
make you and Jax happy is Opie and me getting married tomorrow and popping out
the next generation of SAMCRO within nine months."
Tara's laugh was a bright burst, like fireworks. "Olivia! Jesus!"
"Sorry," she said with a grudging grin. "I know that's not what you meant. I'm
just tired."
"You know I love you, right?" Tara said.
"Duh," she said, the dimple in her chin flashing.
"I get that you and Opie didn't work out. I wish it had, but whatever. You
can't always get what you want."
"But if you try sometimes—"
"You just might get what you need!" Tara finished.
They both laughed, and just like that the tension was broken.
"Let's not talk about TJ. I'm sick of talking about TJ and thinking about TJ
and just—TJ. Let's have an awesome day and try on super cute clothes that we
can't afford and eat bad food at the food court. Yeah?"
"Sounds like a plan," she said with a wicked grin. She cranked up the radio and
Stone Temple Pilots blasted through the speakers. Cool wind filled the car as
they opened the windows, and they sang along to song after song until Olivia
twisted the dial down.
"What?" Tara said.
"I saw the new guy with you guys yesterday," she said and lifted a brow.
"Oh. Yeah, he's cool. A little—I don't know. Like he's trying too hard. But
whatever. He's new. That's always weird, especially in the middle of the
semester." She cleared her throat and concentrated on switching lanes. Their
exit was coming up.
"He's gonna be working at TM, I guess," she finally said.
"Huh," Olivia replied. "I bet that makes Jax happy."
She grinned. "It was his idea."
"Naturally. What's Gemma think of him?"
"I think she thinks he's cute. She told him he had a week to show what he could
do, and after that they'd talk money."
"Wow, only a week? She must think he's cute."
Tara chuckled. "He is, kinda."
"Uh oh. You thinkin' of steppin' out on the dashing Mr. Teller?"
"Ha! That'll be the day. No, Ollie. I just noticed." She cut her eyes over.
"Can't believe you didn't."
"Of course I did," she said with a frown. "I'm not blind."
"Uh huh," Tara said. She managed to find a decent parking place and snatched it
up before an Explorer could steal it.
Olivia rolled her eyes and climbed out of the car. "Come on. I thought we
weren't talking about TJ."
"Who mentioned TJ?"
"Not a soul." Her head fell back and she let out a long groan of frustration.
"Tara, I'm so fucked."
"What? What now?"
"I've got to get a dress for fucking winter formal and I'm basically broke. I
really miss the extra money I got from TM."
Tara scowled and locked the door. "Does TJ know how much you and your dad
counted on that? I mean, it's not like he's ever had to worry about money."
"It's not really a great idea to mention that part. We've got kind of a Blane/
Andi thing going, and I don't think he likes to be reminded that I'm Andi."
"Who's Duckie in this scenario? Jax? Opie? The new guy?"
There was a silence while they both thought it over. They burst out laughing so
hard they doubled over, and a woman glared at them as she went by.
"Stuff it, you old bat," Tara said between her giggles, and that just made
Olivia laugh harder. The woman looked scandalized, but she kept walking.
"You're awful," Olivia said.
Tara shrugged. "We weren't even doing anything, Jesus. People are such
assholes."
Olivia grimaced in agreement. "Let's hit the pretzel place first. I'm
starving."
"You know you have something else in common with Andi, too—besides the red hair
and the stunning fashion sense."
"Someone needs to bring the eighties back."
"If only we'd been born ten years sooner," Tara said.
"I do prefer crippling recession to an economic boom, don't you?"
"Quit being practical, Ollie."
"My b. So what's this trait I share with one of Molly Ringwald's most signature
characters?"
"Andi sewed her prom dress. You could make something for winter formal. I mean,
you probably wouldn't have time to do it from scratch, but we could get
something at, like, the thrift store, and you could rework it. An Olivia Gable
original. Haute couture."
"As long as it's not pink. Despite what the movie's title says, redheads
do not look pretty in pink."
"I know, Ollie. That's basically your life philosophy."
"Changing pop culture-inspired misconceptions one heart at a time," she said.
Her expression sobered and she tilted her head. "It's not a bad idea, though. I
could work on it while TJ's at practice."
"Oh, he doesn't make you go to those too?" Tara said, dryly.
Olivia flashed her a brief glare. "He doesn't make me do anything, Tara."
"Right. It was one hundred percent your idea to quit TM."
"Tara—"
"I know! I'm sorry. No more TJ talk. Promise." Suddenly her hand shot out and
she grabbed Olivia's arm. "Isn't that the new guy?"
Olivia looked where Tara was pointing and choked out a laugh. "Holy shit. He's
with Asia Martinez? He's only been here three days!"
They watched with matching expressions of disbelief as Asia stuck her tongue so
far down his throat she probably knew if he still had tonsils. Her hand was
high on his thigh, and her chest was plastered against his.
"Oh my God," Tara said in a strangled voice. They both pressed their hands to
their mouths and choked on laughter.
"Wow," Olivia said. "He doesn't waste any time."
"It's Asia Martinez," Tara said with a snort. "She doesn't waste any time."
"True," Olivia said. "I guess she nominated herself SanWa South's official
goodwill ambassador. Greetings to Queens, New York."
"And points south."
That set them off again, and by the time they pulled themselves together, Juice
and Asia had disappeared into the crowd.
"Aw, too bad," Olivia said. "I really wanted to go say hey."
"You're awful."
"What?" she said, all big innocent eyes. "I don't have anything against Asia."
"Hhmm," Tara said. "Just get your pretzel and shut up."
Jax had fooled around with Asia for a while summer after freshman year, when he
and Tara had been on the outs. She'd caught them together, making out in the
SAMCRO clubhouse, and she still got mad whenever she thought of it.
"Maybe Jax introduced them," Olivia said.
"Seriously, Gable. You're my best friend, but I will cut you."
"Oh, Tara," she said with a dramatic sigh, "don't be so grumpy. Let me buy you
a pretzel and you can tell me all about how much you hate Asia Martinez and her
big dumb boobs."
Tara wove her arm through Olivia's and rested her head on her shoulder. "You're
a true friend, Ollie. Really."
"Mmhhmm. Keep that in mind next time you decide to give me shit about my
boyfriend."
Tara let that pass without comment, because however deep her reservations about
TJ Flanary went, ultimately it was Olivia's life. And maybe they were wrong;
maybe TJ was a lot cooler than he seemed. Olivia was smart, and not
traditionally a taker of shit. If TJ pushed her too hard she'd dump him, no
matter who his daddy was.
===============================================================================
It was only a few weeks until the formal, and Olivia knew whatever she managed
to scrape together had to look amazing. If she weren't perfectly turned out TJ
would have a lot to say about it, and she would never. Ever. Ever admit it had
anything to do with lack of money.
And so she found herself the next Saturday at TM. She'd taken Tara's advice to
make (or remake) her own dress, but even materials were expensive, and she was
really strapped for cash. She saw that Gemma's car was there and scowled a
little. She had hoped to deal with one of the guys instead; they would give her
a day's work to do and not ask a bunch of questions.
Gemma would want to know why.
Olivia waved at Chibs, but he was too busy to talk to her. Good. She didn't
like the look on his face, a sort of where have you been this better not be
about a boy look. She ducked into the office and Gemma glanced up from the
receipts she was sorting. She leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms
over her chest.
"Well, well, the prodigal returns," she said.
Olivia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I've been gone like a month, Gem."
"One incredibly long month in which my love-besotted son bitched and moaned
every time I made him come in rather than go out with his girlfriend."
"I'm sure it was good for him. Character building."
"Good luck with that," Gemma said. She rose and enfolded Olivia in a hug. "We
missed you, sweetheart. You comin' back?"
"I heard you already replaced me."
Gemma jerked her chin toward the window and led her that way. "If you mean the
new kid, he's not bad. Smart. Works hard. Doesn't talk back, unlike some people
I could name."
"Hum," Olivia said with a little snort. "Sounds like you don't need me at all."
"I'm sure we could find something for you to do. It's Saturday; always need
extra hands on Saturday." She paused and fixed Olivia with a shrewd look.
"Money gettin' tight?" she said.
Olivia frowned. "I'm gonna work for it, Gemma."
"I know. I just thought you might need a little advance."
"Um." She looked down and scraped her boot against the floor. "I mean. Dad's
picking up a lot of extra shifts, but—"
"It's never quite enough. Yeah, baby, I know." She squeezed her shoulders and
sighed. "You're welcome here any time. I wasn't lyin' when I said we miss you,
new kid or not."
"Thanks, Gem. I really appreciate it."
"Uh huh," she said. "Jax said you quit because of some boy, but I told him he
was full of shit. Ollie? Our Ollie? She'd never do somethin' like that."
She shifted her weight. "Er, well…"
Gemma's mouth twisted. "Uh huh. Who is he?"
"Ahh…TJ…Flanary?"
Gemma blinked at her. "Are you kidding me?"
"I don't know what you've heard, but he's really—"
"A nasty rich little shit? Yeah. Big fuckin' surprise."
"No, Gem, come on. He's—I mean he's—he's pretty okay."
"Wow, sweetheart, that's one hell of an endorsement." She leaned down to look
Olivia in the eye, and she was wearing her full-on Mom Face. "Now you listen,
because I'm only gonna tell you this once. The Flanarys are bad news. His daddy
was an asshole in high school, and I can't imagine the apple falls far from the
tree. You get away from that boy, and you stay away. He's gonna be nothin' but
trouble."
Her nose wrinkled. "Gemma, I'm seventeen, not seven."
"Seventeen, a daddy who works too much, and no mother to tell you how things
are. So I will. Boys like that, baby girl? They will use you up and throw you
away. You will never be good enough. You will never make him happy. It's not
your fault; there's just somethin' missing in him. He will never stop, and
it'll only get worse. You gotta get away from him, Olivia."
"I—" Olivia closed her mouth and looked away. Swallowed back the tears that
threatened. "You're right, Gemma: you're not my mother. I don't know what
happened between you and TJ's dad, but it was a long time ago. TJ is not his
father, and I like him. I'm sorry everyone in this goddamn family has such an
issue with that, but it's my life."
She shook her head and backed away. "You know what? I think I'm good after all.
I'm sure the new kid is all the help you need right now."
She spun around, and she jerked at the sound of Gemma's voice. "We may not be
blood, but we are family, Ollie. I'm just tryin' to look out for you."
"I appreciate that," she said without looking back, "but I really don't need
it." She slammed out of the office, and Gemma let out a long sigh.
"You keep tellin' yourself, sweetheart," she said. "You know where we are when
that boy breaks your heart." Or your face, she thought with a bitter twist to
her mouth.
Olivia stomped to her car with her head down and her shoulders hunched. Fury
simmered through her. Gemma had no right. She didn't even know TJ. Fine, maybe
his dad was a jerk, but TJ was—
TJ was a jerk, too, sometimes, but not always. He could be really sweet. And he
was really supportive about Olivia's plans for college, which was something
Gemma had always been dismissive of. He could be critical, but he just wanted
her to be the best she could be. And he had a reputation to maintain, after
all—not just at school, but in the town. It was already a risk for him to be
dating the daughter of one of his father's employees; she couldn't look like
Mill trash, too.
She was absorbed in her thoughts and her anger and she didn't even see Juice
hovering around her car. She ran right into him, and he grabbed her arms before
she could topple backwards.
"Whoa," he said. "Sorry. I said your name, but I guess you were off in your own
little world."
She glared up at him. "What the hell are you doing? Aren't you supposed to be
working?"
"Uh." He blinked. "Chibs gave me a break, and I saw this car. I thought I'd
check it out."
"You could ask first!"
He glanced over his shoulder at the car, then back at her. "Is it yours?"
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Why was she yelling at him? He
hadn't done anything. It was Gemma she was mad at. Gemma. Not herself. Not
TJ. Gemma.
"Yeah," she said, her voice softening. "Technically my dad's, but hopefully
it'll be mine soon."
"Wow. That's awesome. I mean, you don't see many of these around. What is it? A
sixty-nine?"
Her mouth curved despite herself. He looked so excited. "Yeah," she said. "Good
call. It was my grandpa's; he bought it new, and he was really finicky about
it. My dad got it when he died, but I've been doing most of the upkeep on it."
"Really? Cool. And your dad's gonna give it to you?"
"He said he would if I made honor roll this semester." She flicked her fingers
in a little shrug. "Right after my mom died I sorta goofed off a lot and let my
grades slip. I've been tryin' to get them back up, because I wanna go to
college. That means scholarship."
Juice hesitated. "What happened to your mom?" he said.
"Um."
She tucked her thumbs in her back pockets. Juice tried to ignore how the pose
made her boobs thrust out like right under his nose. He kept his eyes steady on
her face and forced himself not to look down.
"Car wreck. My thirteenth birthday," she said, shortly.
He winced in sympathy. "Shit, man. That sucks."
"Yeah," she said with a quick, wry smile. "You're not lyin'." She stepped
around him and stuck the key in the driver's side door. "Let me pop the hood.
You probably want a look at the engine."
He let out a low whistle as he propped the hood up. "Damn. Is that the four
twenty-seven FE?"
"Yup," she said. "You know your shit, Ortiz."
"Fuck yeah. I love these old muscle cars. How many horses you got?"
She hitched a shoulder. "Hard to say. They didn't ever really release specs on
these. Four hundred-ish? Somewhere in there."
"Nice. I bet it fuckin' hauls."
"You kidding? My baby kicks ass." She let out a frustrated sigh. "Which is
probably why my dad's waited this long to let me have it."
"You're lucky he didn't say when you graduate or something."
"True."
A silence fell as he inspected the engine, but finally he looked up at her and
frowned. "Are you working today? Jax said—"
She waved a hand. "I quit. Jax was right. Nah, I just stopped in to say hi."
"Oh," he said.
She thought he maybe sounded disappointed. Probably about her car not sticking
around. He lowered the hood and smiled.
"Haven't seen you around much this week, except for shop."
She ran a hand through her hair and looked away. "Got a lot goin' on right now.
I'm trying to get something ready for the winter expo. Studying, of course.
Formal's coming up. Spending time with TJ."
"TJ," he said. "Right."
"Jesus Christ, you too?"
He held up his hands. "I didn't say anything. I don't know the guy."
"That's right," she said, angry all over again. "You don't. And unlike everyone
else who feels like they have a right to lecture me, you don't know me, either.
So just—keep your opinions about my personal life to yourself."
"Whoa, hey, I didn't mean—"
"It's fine," she said. "I think I have a pretty good idea of what you meant."
She yanked the door open and threw herself in the car. "I'd get out of the way
if I were you, Ortiz. Would hate for anything important to get run over."
He jumped back as she started the engine and peeled out. What the fuck had just
happened? Apparently he'd hit a nerve. Olivia was cute, and her weird
sculptures were kinda cool, and she was pretty funny, but it seemed like he
always managed to say the wrong thing when he was around her. He and Asia might
not talk much, but at least she didn't get pissed at him over random stupid
girl shit.
===============================================================================
It was the Tuesday before the start of Thanksgiving break, and no one was
paying a damn bit of attention to anything in class. Juice was in metal shop
with Opie, Jax, and Olivia, but she was keeping her distance. She claimed it
was because she needed to finish her entry for the winter art expo, but they
weren't even due until December sixteenth, and that was almost three weeks
away.
Jax was cutting what looked like snowflakes from a sheet of thin copper. Opie
had his history book open and was furiously studying for the test he had after
lunch. Juice was doodling avatar designs for a video game he'd been dreaming
about writing for the last year.
Opie threw his pencil down with a snort of disgust. "I give the fuck up. If I
don't know it by now it don't matter anyway."
"Think you're gonna pass?" Jax said.
He hitched a shoulder. "Fuck if I know."
Mr. Collins cast a sharp glance their way and Opie lowered his voice.
"I think so. Donna helped me study last night."
Juice smirked. "I bet she did."
"Shut up, man, she did. I learned a lot."
Jax snorted out a laugh. "Not about American history, I bet."
Opie blushed and looked away. "Whatever," he muttered. Then his expression
changed to one of exasperation. "I think she wants me to take her to the
formal."
"Shi—uh, heck, dude," Jax said with a glance at Collins, "you gonna do it?"
"Not sure I got a choice. I like her a lot, and I think she really wants to
go." He paused. "You and Tara could come with us. You too, Juicy."
His brows drew together. "With Asia?"
Opie tried not to grin. "That might not be the best idea, bro."
"How come?"
Jax shifted in his seat. "Me and Asia sort of hooked up one time. Tara and I
were havin' a thing and.… Anyway, Tara caught us and she's hated her ever
since."
"Why didn't you tell me that?" Juice said. "I wouldn't be hangin' out with her
if I knew."
"Don't matter," Opie said. "She's not like your girlfriend or anything."
"Well—no," Juice said, lamely. "She's not really that type."
"That's the truth," Jax said.
"What about Dana Riley? Tara got any reason to hate her?"
Jax and Opie laughed. "Nah, man. You should know she used to go out with TJ
Flanary, though."
Juice made a face. "He always been such a prick?"
"Yup, pretty much," Jax said. "Comes with bein' rich and spoiled, I guess."
Juice glanced across the shop at Olivia's slight figure bundled up in welding
gear. "Too bad Olivia's goin' with TJ." At their curious looks he shrugged.
"She could come with us otherwise. But I don't think he's gonna want to hang
with us, and if I ask Dana that'd be pretty awkward anyway."
"Nah," Jax said. "He and his crew'll probably do some kinda pre-party at the
Country Club, and by the time they even show up they'll be lit."
"Ollie won't be," Opie said with a glower.
"Why not?" Juice said. "She doesn't drink?"
"Her mom was killed by a drunk driver," Jax said. "She might have like one
beer, but that's it."
"Huh," Juice said.
"She'll get stoned now and then," Jax said, lowering his voice even further,
"but she don't really drink."
His eyes drifted over there again, and she chose that moment to pull the helmet
off. She wiped an arm across her brow and their eyes met. Her mouth twisted in
a sardonic little smile. She inclined her head in acknowledgement, and he
looked away to find Opie staring at him.
"Don't, man," he said.
"What?"
He and Jax shared a look. "He just means Ollie's kinda…"
"Difficult," Opie said when Jax trailed off.
Juice huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, I've noticed."
"We're not that worried about this thing with TJ because it's not gonna go
anywhere," Jax said.
"It never does, with Ollie," said Opie.
"She's a great girl," Jax said, "and she's a great friend."
"You just don't want her as a girlfriend," Opie said.
Jax waved a hand at Juice's look of consternation. "Not because she's not sweet
or interesting or fun to be around, because she's all that stuff."
Juice had serious doubts about using the word sweet to describe Olivia Gable,
but he decided to keep them to himself. "Then what?" he said.
They look at each other again and shrugged in unison.
"She's just kinda cut off," Opie said. "Like, she won't really let anybody get
too close. Which is fine if you just wanna mess around—but she's also not the
kinda girl you just mess around with."
The warning in the last part was implicit, and Juice got the message loud and
clear. "Not like Asia, you mean," he said with half a grin.
"Yeah. Nothin' at all like Asia," Jax said.
"In other words, dude," said Opie, "don't. Seriously—just—don't."
"Right," Juice said. He watched as she took a long swig from a bottle of water
and pulled the gloves back on. Replaced the helmet and lit the torch. He shook
his head and returned to his doodles.
He knew Jax and Opie meant well, but they didn't have anything to worry about:
he wasn't interested in Olivia, and the feeling was clearly mutual. She barely
seemed to be able to stand him. Which was fine, because he wasn't interested.
He just wished he didn't know her hair smelled like mint. He could deal with
the car thing; other girls liked cars. He could handle the freckles; she wore
makeup to cover them up a lot of the time anyway. He could even handle the way
her nose scrunched when she was thinking.
But knowing how her hair smelled? That one was probably gonna haunt him—despite
how uninterested he was.
Chapter End Notes
     Nah, Juicy. Not at all interested. Boys are dumb.
     So remember on Come With Me Tonight when I said I wanted it to be a
     long, slow burn? I want the same thing here, but it's high school, so
     it's gonna be more like long, slow feigned disinterest and awkward
     conversations. Also, I mean. Boys are dumb.
***** Scared *****
Chapter Summary
     Olivia and TJ go to winter formal, but things don't go exactly as
     planned.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                            everything you would be
                            passed you like a ghost
                       and kind words are scarce at best
                            when you need them most
                      Better Than Ezra, "Scared Are You?"
Olivia paused at the door to her room and took a deep breath. She could hear TJ
and her father chatting in the foyer, and it sounded like they were getting
along. Of course it was hard to tell from banal small talk. TJ was good with
parents; he always made a great impression; so she wasn't really worried about
that part.
"You've got a very nice home, Mr. Gable," TJ said.
"Oh, please, call me James. And thanks. It's mostly Olivia; I'm hopeless with
any decorating type crap."
"She does have a good eye, doesn't she?" TJ said.
She let the breath out slowly and decided it was time to interrupt. She walked
down the short hall, and the sound of her heels against the hardwood floor
seemed incredibly loud. She stepped into the foyer and paused. Her father and
TJ were both staring, and she looked away with a blush.
"Honey, you look beautiful."
"Thanks, Dad," she said with a smile.
"Wow, Olivia. You really do. Amazing."
The smile deepened and the dimple appeared in her chin. "You look great, too,"
she said. "Nice tie."
Olivia's dress was a simple pale blue satin sheath, well fitted, that came to
mid-thigh. Over it was a gauzy float of material that was gathered at one
shoulder with a pin that sparkled when the light hit it. She had it cinched at
the waist with a thin silver cord, and her finger and toenails were painted the
same color. She'd curled her hair and gathered it on top of her head in a
coppery tumble.
TJ wore a black suit with a silver tie to complement her dress. He cut a
dashing figure with his sandy blond hair and bright blue eyes, broad football
player's shoulders and strong jaw. Very All-American.
He opened the clear box he carried and pulled out a wrist corsage made of white
roses.
"It's beautiful," she said.
He started to tie it around her wrist, but her father stopped him. "Hang on, I
need to get a picture!"
TJ laughed. "Of course. Olivia, turn this way. The light's better."
She did as he directed, and the camera clicked multiple times before he finally
slid the corsage over her hand.
"Let me get one of you two together. TJ, put your arms around her. Perfect!"
Olivia tried to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Her dad was obsessed with his
camera, and he took five thousand pictures of everything. It had started right
after her mom died, so she never told him no when he pulled out the camera. But
he was going overboard.
"Dad, come on."
"Okay, okay. Sorry. I just can't believe you're so grown up."
"Oh God."
"I don't blame you, Mr. Ga—er, James. If she were my daughter I'd take her
picture every day."
It was a surprisingly sweet thing for him to say, and Olivia could practically
see the hearts in her father's eyes. She gave TJ's arm a gentle squeeze. "We
don't want to be late," she murmured.
"Of course. Sorry, sir. We have friends waiting for us at the Club."
"I got everything I need. You two have fun! Ollie, curfew's pushed back until
two, but please don't be any later."
"Daddy—"
"Don't worry, James," TJ inserted smoothly as he helped Olivia on with her
coat. "I'll take great care of her."
"Of course you will, TJ." He gave Olivia a quick kiss on the cheek and waved
them out the door. "Bye, kids! Have fun!"
Once they were in the car Olivia laughed. "I'm so sorry, TJ. He gets like that
sometimes."
"It's okay. He loves you a lot, and with your mom gone—" He broke off with a
shrug. "I get it."
He smiled almost shyly. "You look wonderful, Olivia. Perfect, really. We're
going to be the best looking couple there."
She grinned and brushed her hand against his arm. "I'll have the best looking
date, anyway."
He didn't deny it. After a moment he carefully backed out of the driveway, and
once he was on the road he said, "We'll meet everyone at the Club and take a
limo from there, but it's easier to drive our own cars that far."
"No, it's great. It's good to have some time just the two of us before we join
everybody else."
He beamed. "That's true! Once we get there everyone will want to talk to us."
You, anyway, she thought but didn't say.
As if sensing her train of thought, his expression clouded. "I'm so sorry you
weren't nominated for Winter Queen, Olivia. I tried to get your name in, but it
was too late."
"It's okay, TJ. We didn't start dating until after nominations closed, and
before that no one would've thought of it. I'm sure it'll be different at
prom—um, if we're still together then."
"Why wouldn't we still be together?" he said.
Danger, Will Robinson.
"I'm sure we will be, silly. I just don't like to presume," she said with a
light laugh.
He relaxed and so did she. "Yeah, right. That makes sense." He paused and
cleared his throat. "I want tonight to be special for us, Olivia."
She eyed him sidelong. "I do too, TJ," she said, carefully. "I'm sure it will
be."
He flashed a smile. "I'm so glad to hear you say that. I know your curfew is
two, and I'll absolutely get you home on time—wouldn't want your dad to
worry!—but I was hoping we could leave as soon as Winter Court's announced."
"Why so early?" she said.
"I got us a room at the Carriage Inn. A suite, actually. For just the two of
us."
She had absolutely no intention of having sex with TJ Flanary that night, but
telling him so right now would spoil the rest of the evening. Instead she let
her mouth relax into a curve. "I guess we'll see how it goes, won't we?"
He pounded his hands against the wheel and let out a raucous laugh. "It's gonna
be an amazing night, Olivia! I can feel it!"
His enthusiasm was infectious, and she found herself laughing along with him.
He was in a great mood. As long as she kept things going like this—and somehow
managed to artfully dodge the sex issue—it really might be an amazing night.
===============================================================================
An hour later she was wondering what she'd been smoking. They'd met Katie and
John, Rebecca and her date Mike, and Heather and Bryan, another pair of TJ's
friends, at the Club, and at first it had been okay. Everyone was cordial, and
John was goofy enough to break the ice and have them all laughing.
When it came time to order a second round of drinks Olivia declined. She could
tell that pissed TJ off, but he didn't say anything. When she ordered a Coke on
the third round he glowered at her, but she let it roll off and kept talking to
Rebecca.
Then Katie struck.
"Olivia," she said with that sickly sweet smile, "I just love your dress. I
don't remember seeing anything quite like it when I was looking for mine. Where
did you get it?"
She opened her mouth to lie—a boutique in San Francisco, maybe, or even a
friend had found it for her down in LA—but instead she looked Katie Adams right
in the eye and said, "That's because I made it."
"Made it?" Rebecca said, amazed. "Like, with your hands?"
She bit off a smart retort and just smiled. "Yep. And a sewing machine."
Katie and Heather exchanged sly looks. "That's amazing, Olivia," Heather said.
"I don't think I could sew on a button."
"I usually have the maid do it for me," Katie said with a shrill giggle that
the other two girls echoed.
"My mom taught me to sew," Olivia said, not rising to her bait. "I figured why
waste money on an overpriced dress when I could put the skill to good use?"
"How very Holly Hobby of you," she cooed and Heather tittered. Rebecca just
looked confused; her admiration had been genuine, Olivia sensed, and she didn't
understand why Katie was being so nasty about it.
"Better Holly Hobby than Queen Bitch," Olivia said, her smile bright and keen
and cold in total contrast to the sugar-coated warmth of her voice.
John choked on his drink and Heather flushed bright red to the roots of her
hair. Katie ignored them both and matched Olivia's piercing gaze look for look.
It was clear they understood each other perfectly.
Olivia tilted her head and blinked innocently. "Don't you think?"
A short pause. Then, "Better Queen Bitch than poor white Mill trash," Katie
said on a quiet breath.
"Whoa, okay," John said. "I think maybe you've had enough of this." He took her
drink from her and gave Olivia an awkward grin. "Never could hold her liquor."
Olivia let out an amused huff. "It's all right, John. It's good for everyone to
be on the same page." She set her soda on the table and rose to her feet.
"Excuse me for a minute, please."
TJ had sat stiff and furious through the entire exchange, but as soon as Olivia
walked away he took off after her. Once they were out of sight he grabbed her
arm and dragged her into a quiet corner.
"What the fuck was that, Olivia? Those people are my friends!"
"Yeah, I know. And I'm supposed to be your girlfriend."
"What does that mean?" he said, nostrils flaring.
"It means"—she yanked her arm from his grasp—"that it would be nice if you
spoke up to defend me when Katie starts doing her catty school girl routine."
"She complimented your dress, Olivia!"
"She was being sarcastic, TJ. Come on!"
He towered over her and glared down his nose. "I cannot believe you embarrassed
me like that. You made your dress? What the fuck were you thinking?"
She crossed her arms over her chest. "My dad works at the mill, and he doesn't
make that much money. You know that. My only extra spending money came from my
job at TM, and I quit so that we could spend more time together."
"Are you trying to say it's my fault you didn't have enough to buy a dress?"
"What? No. Where did you get that idea? I'm just explaining to you that a
formal dress is expensive as fuck, and I had other things to spend my money
on."
His eyes narrowed. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say that," he said,
his voice soft and dangerous.
Fuck, she thought. He hated it when she cursed, and she always tried to watch
her language around him. If he hadn't been mad enough before, now he was
practically nuclear. The quieter he got, the worse it was.
"If you needed money you could have asked me," he said. "I would have bought
you any dress you wanted. I'm your boyfriend; I like to give you things."
"You already give me too much, TJ."
"Oh, too much? Too much? So what if I didn't give you anything? Would you bitch
about that, too?"
She rubbed her forehead and tried to gather her patience. "I'm not
b—complaining. At all. I love the things you give me. I'm just saying it's a
little embarrassing to have to ask you for money to buy a dress. That's above
and beyond a pair of earrings or a shake at Lefties."
"I can't believe you don't trust me, Olivia! After everything we've said to
each other, everything I've shared with you—you don't even trust me enough to
loan you a little money!"
Of course to him several hundred dollars—the amount she'd need for a dress that
had a hope of matching up to his friends'—was like nothing to him. She knew
she'd never be able to explain it, and if she tried it was just going to make
them both angry.
"TJ, I'm sorry. Let's just go back to the party. I'll apologize to Katie if you
want me to."
"It doesn't do any good for me to tell you to apologize to her, Olivia. You
need to want to apologize, because you were incredibly rude to her."
Her eyes flashed. She took a step closer and lifted her chin. "I will want to
apologize to that snobby, nasty, shallow cunt the same day we all go to a
winter formal in Hell. And if you'd like me to tell her that, I'll be more than
happy to."
She spun on her heel and stomped away, and for a moment he was so flabbergasted
he couldn't move. Then his brain caught up and he chased her again. This time
when he grabbed her arm she let out a little cry.
"That hurts, TJ!" she said.
He ignored her and yanked her into the empty coat check. He gripped her by the
biceps and the look on his face was something she'd never seen before. She felt
a sharp zing of fear and tried to swallow it down.
"You listen to me, you selfish little brat. I am risking everything going out
with you. Do you get that? I'm overlooking your shabby little house and your
ridiculous, pandering father and your despicable friends because I love you
enough to not care about any of that. And you, a fucking Mill rat, dares to
call Katie Adams a cunt? You dare to embarrass me in front of my friends, who
are your betters in every single way? You should be falling all over yourself
thanking them for even speaking to you, not nitpicking how they do it!"
It was a lot, but one thing stuck out even more than the comment about her
father. "You…you love me?"
"Obviously!" he hissed. "No one does this much for someone unless they're in
love!"
Her mouth fell open. She jerked out of his hold and stumbled back. "I changed
my mind," she said. "I'd like you to take me home, please."
"Excuse me? I tell you I love you and you want me to take you home?"
"Yes," she said. She drew in a shaky breath. "Please."
"We're going back to the party. How will I explain to everyone if we leave
now?"
"I think after what just happened between Katie and me they'll understand."
"I'm not skipping this dance, Olivia! I'm going to be crowned Winter King and—"
"You can still go. I'm just not going with you."
For once he ignored that she'd interrupted him. "I can't be seen without a
date!"
"Tell them I drank too much and got sick."
"Everyone saw you drink one fucking beer."
"Look, TJ, I don't care what you tell them, or if you tell them anything at
all. If you don't take me home right now, I'm going to find a phone to call
Tara and have her come pick me up. It's your choice."
She could practically see steam coming out his ears. But then, like a flipped
switch, he went still. He smoothed one hand over his tie and another through
his hair. "Of course, Olivia." He fished in his pocket for the valet ticket and
handed it to her. "Let me just go make our excuses."
He paused at the door and said without turning around: "I'm sure you can handle
finding our coats. Not so many in here tonight."
===============================================================================
He was completely silent the entire way, and she sat gripping her seatbelt with
a stomach aching from nerves. She'd never known him to be so quiet for so long.
It could not be good.
He pulled up in front of her house and cut the engine. Still nothing. He
wouldn't even look at her.
Finally he said, "I meant what I said, Olivia. I love you."
"Thank you, TJ," she murmured, for lack of anything else. She blinked and
pulled herself together. "I mean, thank you for telling me. I hope you
understand that I'm not quite as sure about my feelings. Not because ofyou, but
just because—ever since my mom died—"
He held up a hand. The one area where he gave her any leeway was on the subject
of her mother. "It's all right. I know you'll say it when you can." He turned
toward her and his blue eyes were pleading. "In the meantime, please try to
figure out what you want. I can't keep on like this."
"What do you mean?" she said.
"You give me such mixed signals, Olivia. Earlier tonight you were ready to go
to the hotel with me, and now suddenly you have to go home. We've been together
almost two months, and I haven't put any pressure on you about sex, but it's
getting frustrating. You're kind of a tease. What am I supposed to think?"
"Um." She swallowed. No pressure about sex? Right. His inability to keep his
hands off her boobs and/or ass in any given situation was absolutely no
pressure. Not to mention that he touched her thighs probably more than she did,
and her solitary sex life was healthy and flourishing, thank you—or it had
been, up until about three weeks ago.
But obviously she couldn't discuss any of that with TJ, and she sure as hell
couldn't mention that her self-imposed personal dry spell had been inspired by
a certain someone other than TJ who'd suddenly started popping up in her
fantasies.
She realized she'd been quiet too long. "Being manhandled and yelled at doesn't
exactly put me in the mood. I mean, I don't need poetry and roses, but give me
a break," she said, lightening her tone to make it a joke.
He scowled. "I'm sorry about my behavior. Katie was out of line, and I should
have defended you. I'll talk to her."
"Please don't."
"No, she needs to know she can't talk to my girlfriend like that."
She sighed a little. "I know you mean well, but honestly that'll just make it
worse. How about instead you don't make me hang out with them anymore?"
"Them? You mean our friends?"
"Your friends, TJ. My friends are Tara and Jax and Opie and Donna and—and
Juice. Most of the people in my shop classes. And that one weird guy in English
Lit who wears gloves all the time and randomly talks in rhyming couplets."
He made a face. "You mean Chucky Marstein? Olivia, those aren't friends;
they're freaks!"
"That's not a nice thing to call someone. Just because they aren't popular—"
"Or normal!"
"Doesn't mean they aren't worth knowing."
He let out a hard sigh. "I will never understand your obsession with that
SAMCRO riffraff."
"I don't know, TJ. Maybe I'm just riffraff myself."
He slumped back in his seat and glared at the steering wheel. "Fine, Olivia.
Have it your way. Keep your freaks. You don't have to hang out with Katie any
more if you don't want to."
She released a quiet breath. "Thank you for understanding."
"Didn't say I understood," he grumbled. He rubbed a hand over his face and cast
her a sidelong glance. "Are you coming to the game on Friday?"
The winter formal was always the Saturday before the final home football game
of the season. This year South was number one in the conference, and Friday's
game was against the number two team. If they won, they were in the playoffs.
If they lost—well, better luck next year. The art expo entries were due the
next day, and she'd hoped to beg off on the football game to do any last minute
work.
Now, in light of tonight's disaster, she was sure that wouldn't be possible.
"Yeah, TJ. I'll be there."
His face lit up in a smile. "You know you're my good luck charm, Olivia. We
wouldn't stand a chance if you weren't there."
Sometimes he was so sweet and boyish it touched her heart. She knew that
sweetness was there, and when she made him happy it shone through like the sun
from behind a cloud. She just had to figure out how to keep the clouds at bay
and maybe they'd have a chance.
"Of course I'm coming to your game," she said. "I wouldn't miss it." She
frowned and looked away. "I'm sorry about tonight, TJ. I mean it. But I think
it's for the best; I feel like I'm getting a migraine."
Her migraines were legendary, not just among her friends but also around the
school. She'd gotten one in freshman English one time and the teacher wouldn't
let her go to the nurse. She'd thrown up all over the floor, and ever since the
word "migraine" was like a magic get-out-of-jail-free card.
Sure enough, TJ's eyes widened in alarm and he unlocked the car doors. "Better
get inside and lie down before it gets worse. You've got your pills, right?"
"Yeah. I'm gonna go take one now. See you Monday?"
"Right here, bright and early."
She leaned over to kiss him, and for a split second he cringed away. She
smothered a smile as he dropped the tiniest, briefest peck on her lips.
"Night, TJ," she said as she opened the door.
"Goodnight, Olivia. Get some rest."
He waited until she was in the house and had turned off the outside light
before he sped away. She let out the breath she'd been holding and leaned back
against the door.
"Ollie?"
Shit. She'd forgotten her dad would be home. She mustered up a smile and
wandered into the den. "Hey, Daddy," she said.
"It's barely ten, pumpkin. What are you doing home so early?"
"I think I'm getting a migraine, so I asked TJ to bring me home."
"Oh no! Your dance!"
"It's okay, Dad," she said with a tired smile. "I wasn't that excited about it
anyway."
His face creased with concern as he studied her. "You worked so hard on your
dress, and you look so pretty."
"There'll be other dances. Prom in a few months." She leaned over to drop a
kiss on his temple. "Love you, Daddy. I'm going to bed."
"Love you too, sweetheart." He patted her hand, and she could see the worry in
his dark blue eyes.
"Olivia?" he said as she turned away.
"Hm?" she said over her shoulder.
"You'd tell me if there were something wrong, wouldn't you? You know I'm here
for you if you need me for anything."
She scrounged up her most reassuring smile. "I know you are. It means a lot."
"And if it's something you don't feel comfortable talking to me about, like a
girl thing, you'd go to Gemma if you needed to, right?"
Gemma had taken her to her first OB-GYN appointment when she started her
period, eight months after her mom died. When Olivia was fourteen, Gemma had
given her an extremely no-nonsense version of the sex talk, including the
invaluable tip if you're not enjoying it, don't bother, because if he doesn't
care enough to take care of you, then why should you wanna take care of
him? And then, almost two years ago, Gemma had gone with her the day she went
to get a prescription for the pill.
Whatever sort of "girl thing" he might have in mind, she was pretty sure Gemma
had covered it.
"Yeah, Dad. But don't worry; I'm fine. I promise."
"Okay, pumpkin. Try to get some rest."
"I will if you'd quit jabberin' at me!" she said with a grin.
He laughed and waved her away. "Go! Be gone! Never more appear in my sight!"
She giggled and disappeared down the hall, and she knew the brief exchange, so
typical of their slightly quirky relationship, would assuage his worries more
than any number of assurances she could feed him.
Which was good, because she didn't have the head space to deal with her dad
worrying about her, too. It was hard enough dodging Tara and Opie. And the new
guy, as she still forced herself to think of him after a month, even though she
dodged him for completely different reasons.
She closed her bedroom door behind her and pulled the pins from her hair. So TJ
said he loved her. He sure had a fucked up way of showing it.
She studied her pale face in the mirror. She barely recognized herself. She'd
always been comfortable in her own skin, at ease with her face and her body,
but somehow in just a little over two months TJ had made her feel like her
freckles were ugly. Her boobs were vulgar. Her ears were too big. The slight
pooch of her tummy was unsightly.
"What a fucking asshole," she muttered.
She was sick of making excuses for him. Sick of walking on eggshells. Sick of
censoring herself and doing everything he wanted to do and constantly feeding
his ego and still getting reamed out by him almost every damn day.
Gemma had been right: she would never be good enough. He would never stop. She
had to get away from him.
She rubbed her face with a makeup removing cloth and stared hard into her own
eyes. She would wait until after the game Friday, because if she did it before
and they lost the whole fucking school would somehow end up blaming her for it.
She preferred to stay under the radar, not light it up like the fucking
Luftwaffe.
Just making the decision made her feel like the band around her chest—which she
hadn't even realized was there—had loosened. She took a huge breath and let it
out slowly. One more week. One more week of his bullshit and then she could end
it and walk away.
She would be counting down the days.
Chapter End Notes
     Yep, Olivia's dress is based on Rose McGowan's prom dress from
     Jawbreaker. I'm a writer not a fashion designer. :D I kind of have
     plans (maybe?) to recreate famous fashions from 90s movies throughout
     this story bc I'm a dork like that.
     You guys, I'm so excited about ch7. You're all gonna shit. I mean, I
     know this is ch4, but...something to look forward to yeah?
***** Live Again *****
Chapter Summary
     Tara and Olivia hang out, and Tara has some interesting ideas about
     Olivia's love life.
Chapter Notes
     Hi again, friends. Yesterday I made a couple of, er...kind of
     picspams/graphics things for both this and Come With Me Tonight. You
     can find them on my tumblr (url stupidscalptattoos) under both my
     "fic-insp" and "soa" tags. The fic insp tag has a bunch of stuff like
     tattoos and quotes and whatnot, and the soa tag has...I mean. Soa.
     Lots and lots of soa.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                       give up you're not going anywhere
                       moonlight illuminates your stare
                          it's great captivating you
                            does that trouble you?
                               do i trouble you?
                        Better Than Ezra, "Live Again"
It had been a long, exhausting week. TJ had been falling all over himself to be
sweet and charming, just like the first week they'd been going out. It had been
a nice change, but she kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. He hadn't gone
back to winter formal, she'd heard, but he also hadn't said why they'd left.
Apparently the biggest rumor was that they'd decided to hit the Carriage Inn
early and skip the dance.
Whatever. They'd been dating over two months. Of course people assumed they
were fucking by now. And, honestly, they probably would be if it weren't for
TJ. Olivia wasn't a virgin, and she wasn't a prude about sex, but there was
something about the way TJ touched her—too avid, too possessive. She didn't
like it, and it sure as hell didn't turn her on.
It was Wednesday, and TJ was at football practice. Olivia finally had some time
to herself and she couldn't have been happier about it. She was catching up on
homework and listening to music when the phone rang.
"Hey, babe," Tara said when Olivia answered. "You finally free of the Winter
King?"
"Oh, shut up," she said without heat. "Yes, he's at practice."
"Awesome. Wanna hang?"
"Where's Jax?"
"He, Ope, and Juice went off somewhere. I don't know. Didn't ask. C'mon, Ollie,
don't leave me all on my own with this amazing dope Jax got me."
Olivia perked at that. "You had me at dope. Pick me up?"
"Out the door now. Bye, bitch."
She was waiting outside when the Cutlass pulled up, but Tara honked anyway. It
was only seven, so the neighbors couldn't bitch too much. Olivia jumped in the
car and Tara revved the engine. They didn't speak; they didn't need to. Olivia
cranked the radio and they roared off into the night.
When Tara finally stopped the car it was at an isolated spot that overlooked
Charming. From up there the town looked like a winking, sparkling Christmas
postcard. Olivia let out a little sigh.
"You'd never know how shitty it is from this far away," she said.
"Funny you should say that," Tara said, but when Olivia questioned her she
wouldn't say anything else.
They got out and Tara spread a blanket over the Cutlass' hood. She pulled a
baggie from her jacket pocket and rolled a gorgeous joint. Held it up for
Olivia's inspection, and she nodded approval.
"Couldn't've done it better myself."
Tara grinned, lit it, and drew in a puff of smoke. "Nice," she said as she blew
it out. She passed the roach to Olivia and they smoked in contented silence for
a few. Leaned against the windshield and blew smoke at the sky.
Finally Tara said, "I've gotta get out of this town, Ollie."
"Hum. Isn't that the plan? College? Med school? Then you come home and marry
your guy?"
She shifted restlessly. "It's the last step I'm not sure about."
There was a pause. "Shit, Tara, you can't lay this stuff on me right now."
She giggled. "I'm sorry. Okay. I've just been thinking a lot, you know? I mean,
it's like my life is planned out. I come back to Charming and marry Jax and he
becomes President of SAMCRO and I'm his old lady."
"Baby, you're queen of fuckin' SAMCRO. The new Gemma. That can't suck too
hard."
"No," she said with the gravity of the stoned, "you're right about that." She
cut her eyes over. "Too bad things didn't work out with you and Ope. He's gonna
be Jax's VP, right? And then we'd rule that fuckin' club together."
"Oh my God," she groaned and rolled her eyes. "Opie and I gave it a shot. It
didn't work. I guess you'll have to rule the club with Donna."
"I like Donna," Tara said, "but she seems to hate SAMCRO."
"Eh. Can't super blame her. It's a fuckin' outlaw motorcycle club."
"You sound like TJ."
"Bitch!" she said with a laugh. "How the fuck do you know how TJ sounds?"
She took another puff. "He's not exactly subtle about hating SAMCRO."
"I think it's somethin' to do with his dad," Olivia said after a moment. "Like,
his dad and Gem have history, and it's not good."
Tara hesitated, and Olivia could sense she wanted to say something. She peered
at her through the slight haze of smoke that surrounded them. "What's up?" she
said.
Tara gave a restless shrug and shifted her weight. "I don't want you to get
mad."
"I won't. Just spit it out."
"So, listen. You know I love you. We all do. And we want you to be happy, you
know?"
"Uh huh," Olivia said.
"If you can look at me, look me in the face, and tell me TJ makes you happy,
like really happy, then I won't bring it up again. The guys won't either."
Olivia stared at her. "I am too fucking stoned for this right now."
"Ollie!"
She blinked and looked away, over the town laid out at their feet. It did look
pretty. She could see the Christmas tree in the square downtown. It was tiny,
and distant, but it stood taller than anything else except the water tower.
"Ollie?" Tara prompted, gently, and nudged her shoulder.
"Fuck," she muttered and swiped her face with the back of her hand.
Tara stared at her in alarm. She was crying. Actually crying. The last time
she'd seen Olivia cry was that day in the hospital when they'd told her what
happened to her mom. She'd been thirteen, but Tara was still only twelve—her
birthday wasn't until January—and when Olivia's dad tried to herd Tara out of
the room, Olivia's small, strong hand had clamped down on Tara's and refused to
let go. And so she'd sat with her as she cried, and once the tears had passed
it seemed like she might never cry again.
Or so Tara had suspected, because even all through the bullshit that
followed—the funeral, the physical therapy for her broken leg and hip, the
stares and whispers when she finally came back to school—she'd been stoic and
dry-eyed and sort of detached from it all.
Maybe it was just the pot. Tara snubbed out the butt and stashed it with the
others back in the baggie. Olivia sniffled and wiped her cheeks again.
"Talk to me, Ollie," Tara said.
She dipped her head and a tear fell off her nose to land on the blanket. "It's
awful, Tara. He's awful. You've got no idea. He makes me so fuckin' miserable."
Tara opened her mouth to speak, but Olivia held up a hand to stop her.
"I feel so stupid," she said. "I never thought I'd let a guy treat me the way
he does. And I don't even know why. I don't even like him that much! And we're
not having sex, despite all those rumors about Saturday, so I can't even
claim that as an excuse. I just—I keep thinking it'll get better. Like
it's my fault, and if I try harder he'll come around and be the sweet,
thoughtful guy I see sometimes."
"Has he hurt you, Olivia?" Tara said, her voice hard and soft like steel
wrapped in felt.
"Hit me, you mean? No, nothing like that. And, honestly, I'm not sure he would.
I mean, I don't know. Maybe? But not until he was more sure it wouldn't send me
running the other way." She tried to forget the ugly bruises on her arms from
when he'd grabbed her the night of the winter formal; she bruised easily, and
she was sure he hadn't meant to grip that hard.
Tara took a long breath and let it out. She was too stoned for this, too.
"Ollie, look, if you're unhappy you need to break up with him. There's no
reason to make yourself miserable."
"I know. And I'm going to. After the game Friday we're done."
"Why are you waiting?"
She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "He says I'm his good luck charm. They
haven't lost a game since we started dating and I started going to all of them.
If I broke up with him and they lost it'd be, like, the end of the fucking
world and somehow it'd all be on me. Total fucking bullshit, but I don't want
to hear it."
Tara laughed. She couldn't help it. Olivia glared at her, but after a few
seconds her mouth curved and she started to laugh too.
"Tara, Jesus, how am I being held hostage by a fucking football team? How is
this my life?"
"I don't know, babe. I just can't wait for Friday to get here so you can kick
that asshole to the curb." She paused. "Can I tell Jax about this?"
Olivia's brow furrowed. "Why?" she said.
"So that if TJ acts like a dick after you dump him you'll have some backup. He
needs to know he can't push you around. You might be a total shrimp, but you've
got big friends."
"I'm short, Tara, not a shrimp."
"Sure thing, Ollie. Whatever you say."
"Oh fuck you!" she said and they both collapsed against the car, overcome by
giggles.
Olivia waved a hand as she tried to get herself under control. "Jax and Ope
don't need to mess with TJ. His dad could make real trouble for Clay and the
club if he wanted to, and I wouldn't put it past TJ to go whining to daddy if
he came home with a black eye."
Tara made a low noise. "Probably right," she said.
"God, Tara, roll another one. This heavy shit is dragging me down."
"Here," she said and passed her the baggie. "You do it. You know I go all
fumble-fingered."
Olivia rolled it with exaggerated attention. "Just like a delicious burrito,"
she said.
"I love burritos."
"You think that taco truck near TM is still open?" Olivia said as she lit it.
"Oh my God I love that taco truck! What time is it?"
She held up her bare wrists and lifted a brow.
"Oh." Tara giggled and checked her watch. "Not even nine. Your curfew still
ten?"
"Yup, but my dad's working tonight. Won't be home till almost midnight."
"Okay. One more round and then we'll go."
She fell onto the windshield next to her friend and they stared up at the stars
as they smoked. "It'll all be different next week," Olivia said. "Lunch
together again, I can go back to TM, and my art expo project will bedone. I can
just concentrate on exams and making honor roll."
"So that you can get the Cougar, fuck yeah."
"Fuck yeah."
They laughed and knocked the back of their hands together like they were making
a toast.
"Hey, so, we should find you someone to go out with. Like, a temporary thing.
Until you're over TJ."
"Um. Like who?"
"I don't know," Tara said, and Olivia could see through her casual act like a
pane of glass. "Hey! What about Juice?"
Now that was unexpected. "The new guy?"
"Olivia, he's been here over a month."
"He'll be the new guy until there's a new new guy."
Tara acknowledged that with a brief tilt of her head.
"Isn't he with Asia Martinez?"
"Ugh. It's not like they were dating or anything. Just hooking up."
"There's territory I want to tread," she said and rolled her eyes.
Tara glared at her and she held up her hands with a laugh. "Sorry, sorry,
wasn't thinking." She took a puff and inhaled hard. "Didn't he take Dana Riley
to formal?" she said through a breath of smoke.
"He did," Tara said. "But he'd drop her in a second if you gave him even the
tiniest opening."
Olivia choked. Tara smacked her on the back and she wiped her streaming red
eyes. "What the fuck, Tara?"
She took the joint and shrugged. "Come on, Ollie. You have to've noticed. He
thinks you're totally cute. Anyone can tell."
"Seriously, I think you've had enough. Juice Ortiz does not think I'm cute."
Tara stared at her. "You really never noticed?"
"He likes my car. That's about it. I mean, seriously, look at the girls he's
hooked up with! Asia and Dana? Like, find two people more different from me and
I'll give you a hundred bucks."
They were both tall (taller than Olivia, anyway) and willowy, with smooth olive
skin, dark hair, and big dark eyes. Nary a freckle between them, and they could
actually go out in the California sun without SPF 80.
Tara spluttered out a laugh. "Oh my God, Ollie, it's adorable how clueless you
are." She hitched a shoulder. "Honestly I think Jax and Opie might've said
something to him, because right before Thanksgiving he kinda stopped making
puppy eyes at you quite so hard."
Her brows drew together. "Said something? Like what?"
What business did Jax and Opie have to say anything to anyone about her? And
what the fuck could they have possibly said besides she's got a boyfriend so
forget it? And besides that, when the fuck had Juice been making puppy eyes at
her and how hadn't she noticed?
"I don't know, dude. Maybe they didn't. Maybe he just realized you're with TJ
and he should give it up."
"I think you're imagining things. I don't think there was anything for him to
give up. I mean, he made that comment to me the first day we met, but he was
just bein' a guy. Have boobs will get hit on, right?"
Tara snorted. It wasn't a problem she had too much, but the situation had
improved a lot since she was fourteen and flat as a board. Of course, Gemma was
the boob standard to which they all aspired, and maybe that was a rack bar set
too high.
"I don't think you give yourself enough credit, Ollie. I mean, you did
something to attract TJ Flanary, right?"
Her nose scrunched. "Yeah, I don't know. That was maybe a fluke."
They had Algebra III together, and apparently math wasn't TJ's strong suit.
Olivia had noticed him struggling, but she had enough experience with boys and
their fragile egos that she didn't offer to help him. She just did. Quietly and
discreetly, under everyone's radar, and one day when she'd been wearing a
scoop-neck t-shirt and shorts that showed off her legs he'd asked her out. She
thought the "have boobs" adage still applied in that case, too.
TJ was only the second steady boyfriend she'd ever had, after Opie, and she had
no idea if either example counted as really attracting someone, per se,
especially in light of how her relationship with TJ had fallen out.
"You ready for tacos?" Tara said as the silence lengthened.
"Forever ready for tacos."
She slid off the hood and wobbled a little. "Uh. Maybe you should drive."
"Lightweight," she said as she took the keys and they swapped places.
"You might be right," Tara said. She climbed in the car and buckled her
seatbelt.
"I usually am. But what about this time?"
She bumped Olivia's shoulder with the back of her hand and laughed. "About
Juice. Maybe after this whole thing with TJ finally wraps up you should stay
single a little while. You know, get your bearings back."
Olivia rolled her eyes. "That's kind of my plan. Remember all that about
concentrating on my work and studying and having time to myself?"
"Mmm," Tara said in a skeptical sort of way. She played with the radio knob a
minute, but when she couldn't find anything good on she twisted it silent.
"Or maybe you're just sexually frustrated," she said. "TJ might be a jerk, but
he's a cute, well-built jerk, and you haven't had sex with him after two
goddamn months. You could just fuck Juice and then discard him. He'd probably
recover. In time."
She covered her mouth as she snickered. "Wow," she said. "Just wow. Why
don't you fuck Juice and discard him? I promise I won't tell Jax."
"Ha. Fuck you, Gable. Not all of us are into casual sex."
"Who says I'm into casual sex?"
"Please. I know what happened this summer between you and Justin Fitzhugh."
"Oh." She giggled. "Well. Can you blame me?"
There was a brief silence. "No. If it weren't for Jax, and I'd been given half
a goddamn chance—"
"Uh huh. And that was one time. I'm seventeen and I've only slept with two
people; I think that's not so bad. Besides, you know how I feel about that slut
shaming bullshit."
"I'm sixteen and I've slept with one," she said, her tone lofty and snobbish,
but Olivia recognized it for the teasing it was.
"Yeah, well, if I had someone like Jax maybe I could say the same thing."
"Whoa, bitch. Hands off my man."
"No worries, kid. Jax is all yours. I just said someone like Jax. Except maybe
not as blond. I think I'm done with blonds."
Tara cast her a sly smile. "Juice isn't blond."
She sighed and shook her head. "Tara. I am not fucking Juice Ortiz. Get over
it. Find someone else to help you with your vicarious thrills."
Tara chuckled and leaned back in the seat. "Whatever, Ollie. I give it six
months."
"Six months till what? I hook up with Ortiz?"
"Nah. Six months single. Maybe not even that long. But on the bright side,
you're always incredibly productive when you're single. So it'll be a
very creative six months."
"I'm done with you. Done. This conversation is over. Have you finished the book
for English Lit? I keep falling asleep."
Recognizing that her friend really meant it this time, Tara picked up the new
thread of conversation and ran with it. Apparently the book was putting her to
sleep, too, but she still had a lot of opinions on it.
Olivia was content to listen to Tara chatter as she concentrated on the road.
Her mind wandered a little, and she found herself thinking about Juice Ortiz.
Tara was nuts. He was definitely not into her. He barely spoke to her, and the
longest conversation they'd had was about her car—and that had ended with her
yelling at him and driving off in a huff.
Yeah, he was cute. But a lot of guys were cute. As Tara had pointed out, TJ was
cute, too—at least until he opened his mouth and his personality ruined
everything.
She thought back to the day before Thanksgiving break, when she'd caught him
staring at her across the shop. Something about the look on his face had made
her blush, and she'd been glad she was still hot from the welding hood.
Hopefully he hadn't noticed.
They had free period at the same time, and he often spent it in the metal shop.
So did she, but luckily she was so busy with the sculpture for expo that they
hadn't really had a chance to chat. Luckily? That was a weird way to think
about it. He was perfectly okay, and she had no reason to avoid him.
She grinned to herself. She would quit avoiding him, after Friday, just to
prove Tara wrong. He wasn't into her, and she wasn't interested in him, either.
He was kind of actually dating Dana (unlike the thing with Asia), so that
solved that problem anyway. She'd make friends with him, because it was stupid
to avoid someone who was apparently part of their group now.
It'd be fine, and Tara could quit snickering about it.
===============================================================================
Friday morning during her free period Olivia was back in the metal shop, like
always. Her sculpture was almost done, but she wasn't satisfied with it. She'd
been working for the last twenty minutes, but now she'd stripped the jumpsuit
half off and paced circles around the jumble of metal.
It's like there was something missing. She wasn't even sure it was anything
tangible. Always before when she looked at one of her sculptures
she felt something. Sometimes it was frustration. Occasionally pride. But this
one just seemed…flat.
"Not really your best work," a familiar voice said from behind her.
She made a face and cast a look over her shoulder. "Aren't teachers supposed to
be supportive of their students?" she said.
Mr. Collins chuckled as he came to stand beside her. "You know I'm your biggest
fan, Ollie, but it's also my job to be honest. This one's just…I don't know."
"It's missing something," she said. She rubbed the heel of her hand across her
forehead in frustration and he patted the top of her head.
"Cheer up, kiddo. Not everything's the Mona Lisa. And, hell, even Leonardo
wasn't happy with that one."
She cast him a curious look. "Why do you teach shop, Mr. Collins?"
He seemed taken aback by the question, but he took it in stride. "I don't know.
Because I enjoy it?"
She made a face. "I just meant why aren't you teaching art or off somewhere
tearing upstart young hopefuls apart with scathing art criticism for
the Times or something."
He tucked his hands in his pockets and ducked his head to hide a grin. "First
of all, I think the Times has an art critic, and secondly I prefer the weather
here."
"Artful dodging worthy of a Dickens novel," she remarked.
"Ha!" he said, a brief, sharp laugh. His expression turned serious and he
circled the sculpture like she'd just done. "I don't know what to tell you." He
propped a hip on the counter behind him and crossed his arms over his chest.
"What's going on? What has you so blocked? This just isn't like you."
"No disrespect, Mr. Collins, but I don't—"
"Really want to talk about it. Yeah, I know." He closed the space between them
with one long stride and took her gently by the shoulders. "You've got a lot of
talent, Ollie, and a lot to say. Don't let anyone stifle that—especially not
some guy."
Her face twisted. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I'm not deaf or oblivious just because I'm a teacher. I know you're seeing TJ
Flanary."
"Mr. Collins—"
She was interrupted by the sound of the shop door. They both glanced that way,
and Juice stopped short when he saw them. Mr. Collins took a step back and slid
his hands in his pockets again.
"Mr. Ortiz," he said. "You're here early."
"Nah," said Olivia. "He's actually late. He usually spends his free period
here, too."
"Such dedicated students." He paused and fixed Olivia with a stern look. "Think
about what I said, Ollie. I meant it."
"Thanks. But don't worry. It's not going to be a problem going forward."
He studied her a moment, his warm brown eyes probing. Finally he nodded. "Glad
to hear it." He gave Juice a clap on the back on his way out the door. "Do me a
favor and give her your opinion on the sculpture, yeah? I think she's designing
by committee now."
She stuck her tongue out at his back, and when the door closed behind him she
shook her head in frustration. "He's cool, but nowhere near as cool as he
thinks he is."
Juice dropped his backpack on a table and took a wary step toward her. "I
didn't interrupt anything, did I?"
"Like what?" she said.
"I don't know. Just kinda the way he was looking at you—"
"Oh my God. Don't be weird, Ortiz," she said and rolled her eyes. "I know guys
have all sorts of freaky schoolgirl fantasies, but that's really not my scene."
He snorted out a laugh. "How the hell do I always manage to piss you off? I
swear I couldn't be better at it if I actually tried."
She flicked her fingers. "You didn't piss me off. Just—he's a great teacher.
Probably my favorite. I spend a lot of time in here, and I'm basically the only
girl he teaches, except for the occasional freshman. He could get in a lot of
trouble if some stupid rumor got started. People are always ready to assume the
worst, you know?"
"Yeah," he said with a frown. "Sorry, I didn't really think of it like that."
Her brows quirked. "Must be nice being a guy."
"What's that mean?"
"Nothing," she said. "Just, like…you can afford not to think that way. Because
when you do well in a class taught by a woman it's like, 'Wow, that Juice Ortiz
sure does apply himself!' But when I do well in a class taught by a man I must
be fucking him."
"Olivia, come on. Cut me some slack here."
"I didn't mean you were saying that—not exactly—but believe me I've heard it
before. It gets old, that's all."
He frowned and looked away. It was really easy to forget that other people had
their own shit to deal with. He struggled to remake himself, break away from
that old geek persona that he'd had back in Queens, and he sort of assumed a
girl like Olivia Gable didn't have a lot of problems. She was dating maybe the
most popular guy in school. She was cute. She had a tight group of friends. He
thought her biggest worries were what to wear to winter formal and making the
grades to get her daddy's car.
"I'm sorry," he said. "It was a dick thing to say."
"Yeah, it was," she said, but he could tell she was softening.
He rocked back on his heels. "So, uh. What's up with your sculpture thing?"
"Nothing, really."
"Mr. Collins said—"
Her mouth twisted. "I know what he said. Ignore him." She shook her head and
scraped her hair back. "It's really nothing."
He started to say something else, but she kicked the torch out of her way and
headed toward the break room. That time he didn't think it was his fault.
Whatever ate at her apparently affected her work, and while he didn't know much
about art, he understood there was a difference between the sculpture featured
in that photograph in the break room and the one that stood here. It wasn't
anything he could put his finger on, but he figured that was the problem.
For some reason he thought it probably had to do with TJ Flanary. That guy was
like some kind of human plague; he infected everything he touched and fucked it
all up. Juice had no idea what she saw in him, but maybe it was a girl thing.
He clearly didn't know a fucking thing about them, and he doubted someone like
Olivia had the patience to enlighten him.
The idea made him laugh, and he was still chuckling as he opened his math book
to finish last night's homework. Like Olivia Gable would ever spare the time to
do anything other than yell at him. That'd be the day.
Chapter End Notes
     Yesterday when I said ch7 was going to blow your minds I actually
     meant ch8. And I was working on ch9. Chapter 9 really WILL blow your
     minds, and it's kind of the make-or-break of this fic. Anyway. On to
     writing ch10 now. :)
     I'm thinking of breaking this fic up into two parts. My original plan
     was to have the first half be in hs, and then the second half be like
     after Olivia comes back from college. Now I think I might write this
     one 100% in high school, and end it just before she leaves...then
     come back and write a sequel with the post-college stuff. I say that
     bc I don't want another 300k word fic, and I don't want to be worried
     about length. Just write what I wanna write, ya know? And for those
     of you who are more interested in the high school aspect, you won't
     get shortchanged. And those of you who prefer 20-somethings won't get
     shortchanged either! :D
***** Anywhere But Here *****
Chapter Summary
     Olivia and TJ have a confrontation that gets violent.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                     maybe i should drop you at your door
                   or leave tonight and vanish up the shore
                               anywhere but here
                       Better Than Ezra, "At the Stars"
They won the game, much to Olivia's relief. If they'd lost TJ would be un-live-
with-able, and she really wasn't in the mood to pull him out of any sort of
post-football funk. She needed to get this over with and get back home. The
expo entries weren't due until five o'clock tomorrow evening, so if she managed
to sketch some things up tonight, she could get Mr. Collins to let her into the
metal shop first thing in the morning. Obviously it wouldn't have the scale she
was used to, but maybe something smaller was better anyway.
She and TJ were in his car, and he hadn't shut up about the game since they'd
left the stadium almost an hour ago. She could tell he was keyed up because he
hadn't even waited for the rest of the team; he'd grabbed her up almost as soon
as the game was over.
He'd passed for some huge amount of yards (Olivia's eyes glazed over when he
started spouting stats) and he'd only had one incomplete pass, which was
totally John's fault, the fucker, and he'd even run the ball for the game-
winning touchdown.
She smiled and nodded and made approving noises, and she wasn't really paying
attention when suddenly she realized he hadn't said anything for several
seconds. She blinked and adjusted her expression. "Sorry, my ears are kinda
ringing from all the cheering and stuff. What was that last bit?"
He leaned closer, and his blue eyes were avid. "I just said I couldn't have
done it without you. You're my good luck charm, Olivia. We're gonna kill in the
playoffs, and it's all because of you."
He looped a thick lock of her hair around his hand and sniffed it. Made a
little face. "I thought you were using that strawberry shampoo I gave you."
"Um. I was. But it dried my hair out, so I went back to my old kind."
"That was very expensive shampoo, Olivia," he said with a scowl.
"I know, but it just wasn't the right kind for my hair. You can probably take
it back. Maybe exchange it for another one. I'll tell you what I use and—"
"No," he said and pulled hard enough to make her wince. "I like that one. It
smells like strawberries."
"Let go of my hair, TJ," she said, her voice soft.
"Why?" He pulled again. "I thought you liked it when I got rough."
"I've never liked that. I'm not sure where you got that impression."
"Olivia, I'm tired of the way you tease. It's been over two months. I've got
needs, you know."
She lifted a brow. "No one's stopping you from taking care of them on your
own."
He yanked and she let out a little cry. "Ow, TJ, Jesus! That's attached!"
"That's disgusting, Olivia! I would never—"
"No one cares if you masturbate. You're a seventeen-year-old guy. I think it's
kind of, like…understood."
"What have I told you about interrupting me?" he said, his voice a soft murmur.
Too late she realized the danger she was in. She'd let herself be fooled by his
post-game high, but honestly elated TJ was just as dangerous (if not more so)
than angry TJ. Now he had a large chunk of her hair clamped in his fist and his
eyes were bright and cold.
She tried to laugh it off, a low teasing ripple. "I was just messing with you,
sweetie. Hey, why don't we go to Lefties? Everyone'll be there, and I'm sure
they want to see the big hero."
He refused to be distracted. He used her hair to haul her closer, and she
whimpered at the tug on her scalp. "No Lefties tonight, Olivia. I told you I'm
tired of the way you tease me."
"I'm not—I'm not trying to tease. I'm just…I'm not really ready for sex. Okay?"
"Not ready? Is that what you told Opie Winston? Or did you let him fuck you in
the back of that nasty old pickup of his while you begged him for more?"
Her face twisted. "That's none of your business, and I really don't like your
tone. Let go of my hair and take me home."
"Typical Olivia," he sneered. "The second you don't get your way you pitch a
fit. Poor little princess. Someone dared to call her on her bullshit and she
can't handle it."
"Fuck you, TJ," she hissed.
Big mistake.
He shoved her back against the door and was on top of her before she could
react. He clamped his mouth over hers and bit her lip with a sort of savage
glee. His hand was already on her thigh, and groping higher under her skirt.
"TJ, stop!" she said.
"Don't pretend, Olivia. I know how sluts like you are. It's all no, no, no, but
really you're wet and begging for it."
"TJ!" she said, a naked plea. "TJ, no. Just stop. Let me go right now and we'll
never talk about this again. Please—"
He cut her off with another bruising kiss, and he squeezed her ass hard enough
to make her whimper. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and the scalding heat of
them woke her up. She bit his tongue, and he pulled back with a roar.
"Vicious bitch!"
"Get off me, you motherfucker!" She raked her nails down his cheek. They were
short, but she'd put enough force behind the blow to leave a nice red trail.
He slapped her, but from his awkward position it didn't do much more than piss
her off. He dove at her again, but this time she brought her knee up and he
landed on it balls-first. His face went white, then crimson, and he let out a
wordless moan. She kicked him away, yanked at the door handle behind her, and
tumbled out of the car.
"I said no!" she screamed before she spun away and took off running. She wiped
her face, but suddenly she felt like she'd been punched in the gut and she
doubled over in agony. Stop, stop, stop, she thought. You can fall apart later.
Right now you have to run. Get away, get away, get away!
She surged to her feet and started again, but that's when she heard the car
behind her. TJ pulled up along side and put his window down.
"Olivia, baby, I'm so sorry. Get in the car."
"Get the fuck away from me, you rapist motherfucker."
"Sweetheart, no, I would never—I thought you liked it rough. I would never hurt
you. I'm so sorry, Olivia. Please get in the car. I'm not even mad about your
language."
She stopped. When she pivoted toward him he flinched back from the rage in her
face. "There is not a goddamn thing wrong with my fucking language, you
arrogant little prick. Drive away right the fuck now, TJ. If you ever speak to
me again I swear to God I will tell every large, angry, leather-clad biker in
SAMCRO what you tried to do to me tonight, and I guarantee they aren't afraid
of your daddy. Not when it comes to punishing a sniveling rapist piece of shit
like you."
His mouth fell open. He spluttered. "You can't threaten me! My father is—"
She pressed her hands against the roof of his car and leaned down so they were
nose to nose. "I know exactly who your father is, you pissant. Do I look like
I'm afraid of your father? You just tried to rape me, TJ. You slapped me. You
put your hand up my skirt, and if I hadn't kneed you in the balls I have a good
idea what you would've done with that hand. Stay away from me."
She pushed off the car and stomped away.
"Fuck you, Olivia!" he called after her. "You dirty cocktease slut! You're
gonna regret this!"
She gave him the finger without looking back, and a moment later his car roared
past her. She stood in the wake of the exhaust and dust and only realized then
that her purse and jacket were still in the car.
She was ten miles outside of Charming, roughly two miles from the nearest
phone, and she had no money, no means of transportation, and no coat.
"Fuck it," she muttered and started walking. Better than being with TJ.
===============================================================================
Some days Juice thought he might have a handle on this whole…being alive thing,
but then other days he realized he didn't have a fucking clue. Today was one of
the latter. He and Dana had gone out, and he'd thought things were going great,
then all of a sudden she'd gotten pissed and stormed off, right out of the
theater before the movie could even start.
When he caught up with her and tried to apologize, she asked him if he even
knew why she was mad. He had to admit he didn't, and that had just made her
madder.
Then she told him he'd spent the first hour of their date talking about Olivia
Gable.
He'd scoffed at that, and she looked like she wanted to slap him. He tried to
explain what had happened that morning in shop, how she'd been upset about her
sculpture, and she told him she knew because he'd already told the story five
times and if she had to hear another word about fucking Olivia Gable and her
precious fucking sculpture she was going to cut his dick off.
That was a threat that carried weight, so he'd told her again he was sorry and
asked her to come back in to watch the movie, but she'd wanted him to take her
home.
So he had. And he'd tried to apologize again, and kiss her goodnight, but she'd
just slammed the door in his face and left him standing on her front porch
feeling like an asshole.
Had he really talked about Olivia for an hour? There was no way. Maybe he'd
mentioned her, because Dana had asked him about his day, but—no. It wasn't
possible. She wasn't even that interesting!
He'd gotten back on his bike and started to drive home. But then he took a
right instead of a left and ended up…he didn't even know where. He wasn't super
familiar with the backroads of San Joaquin County yet, but he figured he
couldn't get too lost. So he just drove. The wind felt amazing on his face and
the bike felt powerful beneath him and for the first time in weeks his mind
just shut down and he stopped thinking so fucking hard.
He had just rounded a bend and kicked the speed up a bit when he noticed the
figure on the side of the road. Small, but in the dark he couldn't make out the
features. One thing he did notice was the cocked thumb. He frowned and slowed
as he past, and when he recognized her he braked so hard he almost dumped the
fucking thing.
Olivia lifted a brow and flashed one of those sardonic smiles, somewhat spoiled
by a swollen lower lip. "Smooth, Ortiz. Been drivin' that thing long?"
He was astounded. What sort of bizarre bit of fuckery was this? "What the fuck
are you doing way out here? Are you walking? Where's your coat? What happened
to your face?"
She held up her hands. "Whoa, cowboy, slow down. One question at a time."
He paused and looked her up and down. She shivered a little in the wind, and
there was something about her eyes…had she been crying?
"Olivia. What's going on?"
She looked away and wrapped her arms around herself. "Could we not talk about
it on the side of the road? I could really use a ride home."
"Um." His brows drew together. "Yeah, sure. I've got an extra helmet…" He
walked the bike to the shoulder and dropped the kickstand. Dana had just been
wearing it a couple hours ago, so it was right on top in the storage
compartment. He held it out, and she smiled a little.
"Thanks," she said as she strapped it on.
"No problem." He hesitated and stripped off his jacket. "Here. It'll be cold."
She opened her mouth, no doubt to refuse him, but then she seemed to change her
mind. "It's already cold," she mumbled as she took it from him. It was too big
on her, of course, and she wrapped it around her rather than zip it up.
He climbed back on the bike and gestured for her to mount up behind him. She
rested her hands tentatively on his waist, but as he kicked the engine over she
closed her eyes and pressed her face into the collar of his jacket.
The leather was warm from his body and smelled like him, a combo of sandalwood
and cigarettes and the brisk night air. Tears threatened again, but she blinked
them back. She didn't want to cry anymore. She was exhausted and aching and she
just wanted a cup of tea and her bed.
It didn't take her long to realize he had no idea where he was going. She poked
him in the side and he pulled the bike over again.
"Are you lost?" she said.
He cast an irritated look over his shoulder. "No. I'm just—taking the long
way."
"Ortiz."
He scowled and looked away. "I've only lived here a month."
She grinned. "First of all, turn around. You're heading away from town. Just—go
that way, and I'll let you know where to turn."
She hugged him tighter as he hit the road again, and her breath was warm on his
ear and neck as she directed him. He could feel her boobs against his back even
through the leather jacket, and she smelled amazing. It was incredibly hard to
concentrate on what he was doing, and part of him wished he hadn't run into her
at all.
Except then she'd still be on the side of that damn road thumbing for a ride,
and whatever situation had put her there, he knew it couldn't be good.
He pulled up in front of her house, and she dismounted stiffly. He cut the
engine and swung his leg over.
"What are you doing?" she said.
"It doesn't look like your dad's home. I thought I'd walk you to the door. Make
sure you got in okay."
"You can—you can make sure I'm okay from here."
"I could, but—look, I don't know what happened tonight, but I've got a weird
feeling it has something to do with TJ. He knows where you live, right? What's
to stop him from coming by later on? You know. To say hey?"
He could tell she hadn't thought of that by the way color swept her cheeks and
her eyes dropped his.
"Um." She looked back toward the house. "Yeah, all right. My dad will be home
in an hour or so. You can hang out till then. Unless you have to get home?"
"Nah. I don't really have a curfew."
Her mouth twisted. "Boys never do."
She unlocked the front door and let him in, then quickly shrugged out of his
jacket and handed it to him. "Thanks," she said. "I'd probably be a popsicle
right now if it weren't for you." She gestured for him to follow her. "Come
into the kitchen. I'm starving."
As she led the way he noticed she was limping. "Did you hurt yourself?" he
said.
"Hum? Oh." She let out a little laugh. "It's from the cold. And the walking.
And maybe the—the fall. But it's because of the wreck. When my mom died? The
car ran into the passenger's side door and I got hurt pretty bad."
"Wow," he said, and then winced at how lame he sounded. "Wait. What fall?"
"Uh." She waved toward the table. "Have a seat. You want anything? I was gonna
make a grilled cheese, I think."
"A grilled cheese would be awesome. But, um—here, I'll help." He stood in the
middle of the kitchen and looked around. He had no idea where anything was.
She smiled and raided the fridge for cheese and margarine. Pointed him toward
the top of the microwave for a loaf of bread.
"You want one or two?" he said.
"Just one. There are chips in the cabinet over there if you want."
He assembled three sandwiches and she got the pan heating. He watched her as
they worked, her movements stiff and sore-seeming. He frowned and ducked his
head into the cabinet in search of chips.
"So what happened, Liv? You fell out of TJ's car, hit your lip on the way down,
and then he, what? Forgot about you and drove away?"
She went still. Her back was to him, but he could tell from the set of her
shoulders and the cant of her head that he'd pissed her off. Good. Maybe she'd
tell him what that fucker TJ did so he could go bash his fucking skull in.
She slid the first sandwich onto a plate and dropped it on the table. "Cokes in
the fridge. It's not really your business, Ortiz."
"I get that," he said. "And I get that you don't want to talk about it, but I
think maybe you should. If you don't wanna tell me, okay. Maybe call Tara?" He
grabbed the bag of chips and two Cokes—one Diet—and sat down.
She hitched a shoulder and flipped the second sandwich. "She's probably out
with Jax. Eat your food before it gets cold."
He devoured the sandwich in four wolfish bites, and when she turned around and
saw his empty plate she stopped short. "Hungry, Ortiz?"
"I guess," he said with a blush.
"You're sixteen. Aren't you always hungry?" She gave him the second one, then
caught sight of the Diet Coke and lifted a brow. Spun back to make the third,
trying to ignore...so what he'd known her drink? He probably just figured her
dad wouldn't be drinking the Diet ones and she was the reason they were in the
fridge.
"Pretty much," he said. He ate this one more slowly, and he was still finishing
it off when she sat down across from him and took a bite of hers.
They ate in silence, both of them uncomfortable with the quiet and, to an
extent, each other. He couldn't shake the memory of how her arms felt around
his chest, and she couldn't stop thinking about the way his jacket smelled—or
the pain in her lip from where TJ had bitten her. And the ache in her hip from
the fall and the long walk in the cold. And the goddamn bruise she was bound to
have on her ass from his stupid groping fingers.
She shifted in her chair and he looked up at her, his expression wary. "What
were you doing in the middle of nowhere at almost eleven at night, Ortiz?"
"You're asking me?"
"I think I just did, yeah."
He sighed. "Dana and me sort of got in a fight. Sort of. I guess. I don't know.
Anyway, I decided to take a drive to clear my head."
"Lucky for me."
He snorted out a laugh. His brown eyes met her green ones, and the look held
for a long time. He didn't ask her again what happened, which was probably why
she decided to tell him. But when she opened her mouth, the words wouldn't
come. She didn't know how to say it. So instead she stalled.
"He's not a very nice person," she said.
"TJ? No shit. He's so slimy he leaves a trail."
She smothered a giggle and shook her head. "Why did it take me so long to
figure it out? Why was I so fucking blind?"
"We all do stupid shit sometimes, Liv. Doesn't make you a bad person, or even,
like, wrong. Just—"
"Stupid."
"That's not what I meant," he said with a frown.
Her mouth quirked. "I know it's not. I'm sorry."
"We kind of always seem to get off on the wrong foot, don't we?" he said.
"Seems like it."
"You make me sorta nervous," he admitted in a rush.
"Yup. I'm five foot three inches of pure intimidation." She grabbed their
plates before he could say anything else and set them in the sink. Ran the
water in the frying pan for way longer than she needed to, and he realized with
abrupt horror that she was crying.
He rose slowly to his feet. "Olivia—"
"You can go now," she said. "I'm fine."
He felt completely out of his depth, tongue-tied and awkward and hopelessly
clumsy. But he knew if he walked out right now it would be a huge mistake.
"Liv," he murmured. He touched her shoulder and she spun toward him. For a
moment he thought she might smack him, but instead she fell against him and
buried her face in his chest.
He stood frozen for a moment, but finally instinct kicked in and he carefully,
tentatively wrapped his arms around her. He pressed his hands to her back and
patted gently. Made nonsensical noises that he hoped were comforting, and
finally after what seemed like forever she trailed off into quiet sniffles.
"God, I'm so sorry," she said, her voice muffled by his shirt. "I never do
this. I don't know what's wrong with me."
"You don't need to apologize, Olivia. It's okay."
She pulled back and looked up at him with red, puffy eyes. "I've been terrible
to you since you got here, and now you're being so nice to me."
"You haven't been terrible. We just—like I said, we get off on the wrong foot.
Like, miscommunication. That kinda thing."
She nodded and sniffled again, and he long-armed it to rip a paper towel off
the roll and hand it to her. She gave him a watery smile and dabbed at her
eyes. "I hate crying, and now this is like the third time this month."
He frowned a little. "I know it's probably none of my business, but if some guy
is making you cry that much he probably isn't really worth it."
"Yeah, no shit," she muttered. She waved a hand. "I think I sort of made it
your business when I got snot all over your shirt."
He looked down with a glum expression. "It's one of my favorites, too."
"Thank God for washing machines, right?"
His lips moved in a half-smile. "For real. I'm completely covered in Olivia
cooties now."
"You're an idiot, Ortiz," she said with a brief laugh.
"That seems to be your general opinion, yeah."
Her face clouded and she looked away. "That isn't really true at all, and I'm
sorry I've given you that impression. I've been—no. There's no excuse for it. I
actually—I had kind of planned to. I don't know. Make amends or whatever, and I
hoped we could be friends. Since, I mean, you're hanging with us now."
Fuck that sounded shitty. She took a deep breath and tried again.
"I just mean I realized what a jerk I've been to you and there's been no reason
for it so I thought I'd stop being a jerk and be friends with you like Jax and
everybody. Rather than be the one weird, sulky kid in a group full of actual
nice people."
"Well—great," he said. He had no idea how to respond to that. "Um. Did I do
something to piss you off? I mean, something specific. Was it what I said the
day we met? Sort of—sort of hitting on you like that? Because if it was—"
"No, it wasn't that at all." She lifted her hands in a shrug. "I don't know.
Just, do you think we could put it behind us and start over?"
"Yeah," he said, his mouth softening into a smile, "that'd be great." He held
out a hand. "I'm Juice Ortiz. Nice to meet you."
She grinned and shook it. "Olivia Gable. I'm the girl who just cried all over
you."
"Oh, was that you? I thought it was some other soggy-looking redhead with a fat
lip."
Her eyes went wide and her hand flew to her face. "Oh my God. Does it look that
bad? Fuck, if my dad sees it—"
"Whoa, take a breath. Nah, it's not bad. But, I don't know. Maybe put some ice
on it and go to bed before your dad gets home."
She swallowed. "Yeah. Good idea." She turned toward the freezer, but his quiet
voice stopped her.
"Did he hit you, Olivia?"
Her shoulders went tight. She opened the door and stared in at ice cream and
Swanson's frozen dinners. Finally she grabbed an ice bag from the shelf and
slowly swung back to face him. "He bit me," she said in a strained voice.
Juice almost choked. "He—?"
"Bit me. Just before he shoved his hand up my skirt. Then I scratched his face
and kneed him in the balls and jumped out of the car." She took a deep breath
and let it out. "So, yeah. Now you know. I was on the side of the road in the
middle of nowhere because my douchebag boyfriend—ex boyfriend, thanks—who
everybody had warned me about tried to rape me." She waved her arm. "Go ahead.
Lay it on me."
He stared at her. "He—you—he tried to—? Holy shit, Olivia. Holy goddamn shit."
Her lips moved in a dry grimace. "Accurate summation. Very eloquent."
He made a face. "Olivia, come on. This's serious."
"You think it's serious? I'm the one with a fat lip and his fucking finger
impressions in my ass."
His fists clenched and he looked away. The muscles in his jaw danced and his
mouth was a thin line. "I'm gonna fuckin' kill him. I'm gonna get Opie and Jax,
and we're gonna—"
"No!" she said. She grabbed his arm. "Please, Juice. You can't tell anyone,
especially not Opie or Jax. This has to stay between us."
"He can't just get away with it!"
"Yes, he can. He didn't actually—I mean, I got away. If you guys try to go
after him, he'll…it won't be pretty. His father is an important man, Ortiz."
"Who the fuck cares? Why should him being rich make a damn bit of difference?"
She wrapped a towel around the icepack and pressed it to her face. "Where does
your mom work?"
He blinked, momentarily nonplussed. "She does bookkeeping at the mill. Not,
like, real heavy accounting stuff, but just kind of—fuck, I don't know."
"My dad works there, too. Second shift. A machinist." She paused and their eyes
met. "You know who owns that mill, don't you?"
"You're kidding."
"Nope."
"He wouldn't—"
"He might. He thinks TJ hung the fuckin' moon. If he came home crying to daddy
because the mean boys at school beat him up, Teddy Flanary would fight back.
You'd all three probably be expelled. He would make life hell for SAMCRO. And
he'd probably fire your mom. Maybe my dad, too, depending on how much TJ told
him."
He ran a hand over his head, and he looked so shocked she almost laughed. "So
you're sayin' that little fucker is basically holding the whole goddamn school
hostage? That's why they worship him?"
"His dad holds the whole goddamn county hostage. If it weren't for SAMCRO it'd
be a thousand times worse, but the Flanarys usually don't fuck with them. They
have a lot of weight behind them, and it goes beyond money."
"I don't get it. That's Jax's stepdad's motorcycle club, right?"
"Yup."
"But they're just a club. What do they have to do with anything? Why are they
so special?"
She smiled. "You're sweet and innocent, Ortiz, and I like that about you.
SAMCRO is a hell of a lot more than a motorcycle club. Do you know how MCs
work?"
"I don't know. A bunch of guys ride around on bikes?"
"Yeah, that's the simplest version. But, okay. The government says that ninety-
nine percent of motorcycle clubs are legit; no criminal activity. So that
leaves one percent, right? That one percent is up to shady shit pretty much all
the time. They're the only ones allowed to call themselves an MC, and they have
that MC patch on their cuts."
"Like the ones the guys in SAMCRO have," he said. The pieces fell into place
and he leaned back against the counter like the wind had been knocked out of
him. "So you're saying they're criminals."
"I don't know any details, and I don't want to. You don't either. But they keep
this town…the way it is. Homey. No big developments. Low crime, besides petty
bullshit like theft."
"Or attempted rape," he muttered.
She cut him a sharp glare and he tilted his head in a shrug.
"Look, Ortiz, you need to listen to me. Jax and Opie can't know about this.
They can't go after TJ Flanary, because the last thing this fucking town needs
is a war between SAMCRO and the Flanarys because his stupid prick of a son
couldn't keep his hands to himself."
"Okay, so, I'll go after him. Opie and Jax's dads are in the club, but I just
work at TM. It'd never get back on SAMCRO. Ass kicked, war avoided."
"Juice!" She pressed her hands to his face and forced him to meet her eyes. "I
don't want you to go after TJ. I don't want the whole school knowing this
happened. I don't want anyone to know this happened. Remember what I said about
your mom?"
"Olivia—"
"Please, Juice," she said, her voice soft and pleading. "Please. If I can live
with this, then I know you can. If I can pass him in the hall every day and not
smash his face in, you can too. Okay? For me?"
His brows drew together and his arm seemed to move on its own accord. Before he
realized it he was touching her: running his fingers along her jaw and gently,
gently over her mouth and the swelling in her lower lip. He understood in that
moment that he would probably never be able to deny her anything she really
needed, not when she asked him like that, her eyes all big and sad and her
mouth all soft and sweet. Who the hell was this girl, to have that kind of
power over him when he barely even knew her?
"Don't look at me like that, Ortiz," she said.
"Like what?" he mumbled.
"However it is you're looking at me now."
"Sorry. This's just my face."
"Right," she said. Her lips moved in a little smile. She let go and stepped
back. "My dad will be home soon. It would probably be better if you weren't
here. Could be kind of awkward trying to explain why I'm home alone with a boy
who's not the same one I left with."
"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, of course. Wouldn't wanna get you in trouble."
"So—?"
"I'm not gonna tell anyone, Liv. If you're really sure that's what you want."
Her forehead crinkled. "When did you start calling me Liv?"
"Uh." He gave a restless, embarrassed shrug. "I don't know. Is it—I mean—if you
hate it—"
"No," she said. The dimple in her chin flashed and disappeared. "No, I like it.
It's a nice change from Ollie."
He looked down with a grin and shuffled his feet. God he was cute. Like,
seriously puppy-dog-but-also-sexy adorable. And it showed how fucked up her
brain was that it even occurred to her in that moment. She needed him out of
her house, and fast.
He seemed to have come to the same conclusion, because he grabbed his jacket
off the back of the chair and nodded toward the front of the house. "I should—"
"Yeah. I hate to throw you out, but—"
"No, it's cool. I really don't wanna face the wrath of your dad either."
She walked him to the door, and they lingered there for a moment. "Thank you,
Juice. I mean it. For everything."
"Are gonna be okay?" he said, frowning.
"Yeah. I just need a really hot shower—or maybe a good soak in the tub; I
haven't decided—and some sleep."
His eyes widened a fraction, and she realized he had just pictured her naked.
"Wow, Ortiz. Wow."
Color flooded his face and he spun around to yank the door open. "I'm leaving
now."
"Good idea."
"I guess I'll see you Monday."
"Yup."
"Um. Goodnight."
"Bye, Ortiz," she said, half-laughing and trying not to. She waited until he
had the bike going before she shut the door and set the lock.
Way, way too cute. Maybe she had to rethink the friends idea. Hanging out alone
with him was probably a bad idea. Except, of course, he was seeing Dana, so…and
it wasn't like she was interested. He was just cute. She could deal with cute.
Chapter End Notes
     High school Juice is really adorable. *pats him on the head and gives
     him a cookie*
     Man I'm anxious to find out how TJ handles Olivia's rejection. How
     about you guys? I'd love to hear from you!
***** They Know *****
Chapter Summary
     TJ makes his move.
                            no one knows your name
                             no one hears your cry
                            fall in with the fringe
                  because they know what you're going through
                                    they do
                         Better Than Ezra, "Teenager"
Monday was algebra day, and she wasn't looking forward to it because both Juice
and TJ were in her class. It was first period, so at least she'd be getting it
over with early, but still. She needed to keep them apart, because she knew if
TJ made any sort of move toward her at all, there'd be nothing she could do to
stop Juice from jumping him.
And that would be a disaster.
She might have overstated things a little Friday night, but she'd wanted to
make sure he understood the gravity of the situation. TJ was a brat, and his
father was powerful; that could be a nasty combo.
She slept through her alarm, something she'd maybe done only once before in her
life, and then she was completely dressed before she realized her shirt had a
hole in it and she had to start all over. She didn't bother with makeup, except
a little mascara because she never left the house without it, and a quick slick
of lipgloss. Her hair she tied up in a messy bun, and she was running out the
door when the bus went by.
"Goddammit," she muttered.
That meant she'd have to talk her dad into letting her drive the Cougar. She'd
been avoiding him all weekend. It hadn't been hard, because she'd been asleep
by the time he got home Friday, and he was still asleep when she got up to hit
the shop (Mr. Collins hadn't been happy at being dragged out of bed at seven AM
on a Saturday, but she knew he was happy to see her working), and then he was
at work by the time she got home Saturday evening. He went to church most
Sundays, something she skipped out on due to an overwhelming lack of belief in
any higher power, and she was locked in her room catching up on homework until
she fell asleep.
Now she had to ask him for the car, and he would want to know why TJ hadn't
picked her up, and no matter what she said it would at least partially be a
lie. She could either go full lie and say he had early practice and she'd
forgotten, or she could go little lie and say they'd broken up, but not tell
him why.
The latter option was tougher, but better in the long run.
When he saw her peeking around the kitchen doorway he folded his paper and set
it aside. "Was wondering if you were going to show for breakfast this morning.
I feel like I haven't seen you in a year."
"Sorry," she said and sat down across from him. "Busy weekend. Football game
Friday night, expo entries due Saturday, then a ton of homework to get done
yesterday."
"It's okay, pumpkin. I know you're busy." He frowned and glanced at his watch.
"Aren't you usually gone by now?"
"Yeah," she said, drawing the syllable out. "I missed the bus."
"The bus? Where's TJ?"
She fiddled with her spoon. "We broke up."
He pulled off his reading glasses and fixed her with a long look. He scanned
her face, noting the dark circles beneath her eyes she hadn't tried to hide,
and, of course the slight swelling of her mouth. "Olivia. Sweetheart. I'm only
going to ask you this once, and I would like for you to tell me the truth."
She lifted her eyes to meet his, and the amount of worry and love there
squeezed her heart. She knew she couldn't lie to him, not when he looked at her
like that. "Okay, Daddy," she murmured.
His breath caught a little as he drew it in. "Baby, what happened to your lip?"
She couldn't bear to look at him, and her gaze flicked away. Her chin trembled,
and when she finally spoke her voice was shaky and thick. "TJ happened."
His face went hard as granite. "He hit you, Olivia? Did that boy hit you?"
"No," she whispered.
"Olivia—"
"He didn't!" she said. She took a deep breath. "Dad, listen. I was already
planning to break up with him Friday night, but then he got—a little rough. I
kneed him in the junk and told him to stay way from me. A friend of mine
brought me home, and—that's basically the story."
His mouth twitched. "You…you kneed him in the junk."
"Yes. I didn't appreciate the grabbing."
"You amaze me sometimes, Ollie." He shook his head and rubbed a hand over his
face. "I'm sorry, pumpkin. He seemed like a real nice kid."
"Well, yeah. They all do, in front of the dad."
He fiddled with his glasses and frowned down at the table. "I know I've been
hard on you lately, and I don't really understand your art or what it means to
you, but you need to know how proud I am of you. You have so much potential,
sweetheart. I don't want you to waste it in Charming."
"I know, Daddy. Believe me, I don't want to stick around here either. I've been
working hard and my grades are good. And Mr. Collins said I should apply for
some art scholarships, like maybe at the Rhode Island School of Design, or
SCAD."
"Rhode Island? And isn't SCAD in Georgia?"
"Savannah, yeah. But, I mean, it doesn't get much further from Charming—right?"
His mouth quirked. "That's true." He hesitated. "Not to look a gift horse in
the mouth, but aren't there any good art schools on this side of the
Mississippi? Otis, maybe?"
"Otis is in LA. Dad, how do you know so much about art schools? How did you
know SCAD was in Savannah?"
"Ah, well, you know. I—I've done my homework."
She tilted her head. "Homework. About art schools. For me?"
He lifted his hands in a sort of I give up shrug. "I told you I don't get it,
but you love it and it makes you happy. That's what matters."
She grinned and threw her arms around him. "Have I told you this week how much
I love you?"
"Don't think so."
"You're the best. Really. And I do."
"I know you do, pumpkin. I love you too."
She pulled away and went to grab the Cougar's keys.
"Tara brought you home Friday?" he called after her with a sudden frown.
"Ah, no. There's this new kid in school? His name's Juice. He's been hanging
with us, and after I ditched TJ I ran into him and asked for a ride."
His brows drew together. "Juice? What kind of name is Juice?"
"I don't know. A nickname. I haven't asked him the real thing." She glanced at
the clock on the microwave. "As much as I enjoy our bonding time, I'm gonna be
late. Can I take the Cougar?" She shook the keys at him and grinned.
"All right," he said. "Fill it up before you bring it back."
"Thanks, Dad," she said and patted his hand. He flipped it over and grabbed her
fingers before she could pull away.
"I wish you'd told me, Ollie."
"I didn't want you to worry."
"I'm the parent, sweetheart. You let me decide what to worry about. Okay?"
She managed a weak smile. "Yeah. Okay. I'll see you tonight."
"Sure, pumpkin. Have a good day at school. And drive careful!"
"Yes, Daaad!" she called over her shoulder.
She was glad to get to the car. She loved her father more than anyone on earth,
and having to look him in the face and admit even part of what TJ had done to
her had been incredibly hard. She gripped the steering wheel and took a long
breath through her nose. The familiar smells of old tobacco, vinyl, and
peppermint were comforting. She felt like a different person in this car:
stronger, braver, smarter. It was like her Batmobile.
She dug through the box of tapes stashed under the seat and shoved one in the
cassette player. Her dad had installed it years ago, and she figured one day
soon she'd have to rip it out and replace it with CDs—but that felt weird. For
now she'd make do with her tapes, at least until the technology became
completely antiquated and nobody released tapes anymore.
She cranked up Nirvana and pulled out of the drive. She was going to be late.
Maybe miss homeroom completely, which meant being late for first period and
algebra.
Or she could just skip. Take the day and go do something else. She could get
Tara to write her a note tomorrow; Tara was the queen of everyone's
handwriting, and she forged all their notes and signatures and crap.
Except—her dad might notice the extra miles on the odometer. He trusted her,
and he didn't usually check up on her like that, but if she went anywhere half
decent, it would be a big enough spike to be noticeable. The last thing she
wanted to do was lay off school just to stick around Charming.
She could go to the garage. Gemma took Mondays off, so she wouldn't be there.
Except Chibs might be, and when it came to school lectures Chibs was the
fucking worst. He'd spent his teens blowing shit up with the IRA, but the
second he even got a whiff of one of them cutting they heard about it for a
fucking week.
"Avoidance breeds suffering," she muttered. She had to face TJ sometime. Might
as well get it over with.
===============================================================================
She finally found a parking spot at the very back of the student lot, and she
ran inside just as the first bell rang. Homeroom was over—she'd hear about that
later—but she had time to get to algebra. Barely. Her ass hit the seat at the
same time as second bell, and she let out a long breath of relief.
Juice sat a row over and a seat in front, catty corner to her, and he twisted
around to give her a look. She smiled. He returned it tentatively. Something
about his face worried her, and she did a quick check to make sure her shirt
wasn't on backwards or wrong side out or anything.
The room was mostly quiet as Mrs. Hanson shuffled through a stack of papers on
her desk. Monday was quiz day, so they were all braced for it. Slowly,
furtively, a tide of whispers flowed from desk to desk. Olivia wasn't paying
attention; she had her book out and was doing a quick review for the quiz, but
she felt a sort of prickling on the back of her neck like you do when you know
someone's watching.
She glanced up and nearly every eye in the room—except Mrs. Hanson's—was on
her. She brushed a hand over her face. No cereal stuck to it. Her lip was still
swollen, but not much, so surely that wasn't attracting all this attention. She
looked at Juice, and now his expression sent a shiver of fear and apprehension
through her.
"What?" she mouthed silently.
His brow furrowed and he shook his head once, hard and quick. The girl next to
her was giving her the evil eye, and when her gaze locked on TJ—he'd been moved
to the other side of the room when she reshuffled seats a few weeks ago—he wore
a huge smirk, like a fox who'd just raided the henhouse.
Oh God. What had he done?
She didn't have time to worry about it, because at that moment Mrs. Hanson
cleared her throat and the class fell quiet. She passed out the quizzes, and
Olivia spent the next half hour in an agony of quadratic equations. She
actually really loved math, and she was good at it, but every once in a while
it just gave her a headache. Today was apparently one of those days.
By the time the bell finally rang she was jumping out of her skin, nervous and
twitchy and strung-out. Nobody spoke to her. When people passed her desk they
made sure not to touch it, and they all glared at her like she was a leper.
Juice lingered in the doorway to wait, and by the time she had her bag packed
the room had mostly emptied out. She grabbed his arm and pulled him in between
two banks of lockers. "Okay, what the fuck is going on?" she hissed.
He frowned and wouldn't meet her eyes. "You were late this morning," he said.
"Yeah, I missed the bus and had to talk my dad into letting me take the Cougar.
What does that have to do with anything?"
"Hey, Ortiz!" a guy called out. "You gettin' a taste? Make sure you use a
rubber!"
Her mouth fell open. "What was that?"
"Ummm…"
"Yo, Juice!" someone else said. "I call next!"
She spun around and shoved the guy against a locker. He had about six inches on
her, but she was furious. And strong, from hauling around scrap metal and car
parts.
"Who the fuck are you and why the fuck do you think you have a right to say
shit like that to me?" she said.
He leered. "Heard you like it rough. Didn't know you'd wanna go right here in
the hall, but, hey, I'm down."
She pulled her hand back to slap him, but Juice grabbed her around the waist
and hauled her away. "Come on," he said. "Not worth it."
"Let me go, Ortiz! Let me go!"
"Yeah, Ortiz, let her go!" the first guy hooted. "Let someone else get a turn."
Suddenly Opie and Jax appeared from out of nowhere. Opie crowded the guy Olivia
had been about to hit, and Jax rolled up on the other one.
"You got somethin' to say to her?" Jax said, his rough voice low and hard.
Tara was at Olivia's elbow, and Juice's grip relaxed.
"I asked you a question, asshole!" Jax said and shoved the catcaller. "Anything
you got to say to her, you can say to me."
He looked away and shook his head. "Nah, man. Just havin' a little fun, that's
all."
"Maybe you should have fun somewhere else," Opie said. His tone, so mild and
easy, was somehow scarier than Jax' show of temper.
Olivia gripped Tara's hand. "What's going on?" she whispered.
"Come on," Tara said. She tugged Olivia toward the bathroom. "We need to talk."
She followed, but craned her neck to watch the action. It was breaking up, but
Jax still looked ready to bust some heads. Opie towered over everybody, and his
smooth expression sent freshmen running and even had seniors dodging him.
The bathroom door shut behind them and Tara checked each stall. She shooed some
girls away from the mirror, and after only token resistance (Tara had a certain
rep, too), they sauntered out to the hall. When they had the room to themselves
Tara spun toward Olivia and grabbed her hands.
"What the hell happened Friday night?"
"Friday…?" She looked away, her face creased with anxiety. "I went to the
football game."
"Yeah, no shit. What happened after?"
She lifted her chin and met Tara's worried eyes. "What did TJ say happened?"
She blew out a breath and brushed Olivia's hair off her forehead. "He said you
went to the locker room with him to celebrate."
"He said we fucked in the locker room?" She was confused. Why would that draw
such—
Horror as the light dawned. "No. No, no, no, he did fucking not!" She spun away
and buried her face in her hands. "Oh my God. Oh my fucking God."
Tara's palm was warm on her back. "It's okay, Ollie. No one believes it.
Everyone knows it's bullshit."
"Apparently not everyone! Did you hear what those guys said? And that's just
two people! In math this morning everyone was whispering and looking at me like
I'm some sort of pariah!" She turned back and rubbed her forehead. "What
exactly did I do Friday night, according to TJ?"
"Um." Tara's eyes flitted away. "I guess your knees are kinda sore? And the
whole football team knows if you spit or swallow."
"Oh my God. I can't believe this. I—I don't understand why I'm so surprised. He
let everyone think we skipped winter formal to fuck, so why not take it a step
further? Makes him look like a stud, but no one questions why we're not
together anymore."
Tara's eyes narrowed as she zeroed in on Olivia's lip. "So you wanna tell me
what did happen? Like in actual reality?"
She gave a weary shrug. "We had a thing. I told him it was over. He got mad and
left me on the side of the road. Juice just happened to drive by and he gave me
a ride home."
"A thing. A thing that resulted in that lip?"
"It was no big deal, Tara. He didn't really hurt me and I kneed him in the
balls."
Her eyes went wide and she smothered a laugh. "Holy shit."
"Yeah."
"So, wait, you were with Juice Friday night?"
"When I wasn't with TJ or sitting at home alone, yeah."
"Hhmm." She smirked. "That's interesting."
"Don't. Like, seriously. Now that I'm officially the school slut I think it's
more important than ever that I stay away from anything with a penis.
Especially since apparently I can't get near one without wanting to suck it."
Now Tara burst into a full-on giggle fit, and Olivia couldn't keep a straight
face despite her best efforts.
"This is a disaster," she groaned through her laughter.
"At least you broke up with TJ."
She wiped her eyes and shook her head. "I try not to draw attention to myself.
I mean, I prefer to be under the radar, just do my thing and not attract much
notice. Now I'm the Hester fucking Prynne of SanWa South!"
Tara sighed and wove her arm through Olivia's. "It's gonna be okay, Ollie. No
one who matters believes it anyway. TJ's a fucking asshole, and if you want I'm
sure the guys would stomp his head in for you."
"Yeah, no, I don't think that's a great idea." She scowled. "Come on. We better
go or we'll be late for class."
She stopped at the door and glared at it. Tara squeezed her hand.
"We'll go together. Let 'em talk. Between the two of us we're enough bad ass
bitch to handle anybody."
Olivia took a deep, fortifying breath and squared her shoulders. "Less Hester
Prynne, more Scarlett O'Hara," she said.
"That's right. Fuck those old Atlanta busybodies."
"Huh. I guess that's step two."
She shoved the bathroom door open and they stepped out, arms linked, heads
together as they laughed. The guys were waiting for them, and at some point
Donna had joined Opie. The six of them walked to Tara and Olivia's English Lit
class with kids parting in front of them like the Red Sea for Moses. There were
whispers, but they were muted. Stares, but furtive ones.
Olivia felt them, though, their eyes hot and probing like little needles. She
should've known that nasty fucker would do something like this. He had to save
face, after all, and after Friday a simple lie—like that he had dumped her, or
she stopped putting out—wouldn't do. What hurt more was the guys who were going
along with it. She'd thought John was kinda cool, and she had other friends on
the team, guys who were in metal and auto with her and had been since freshman
year. She used to tutor the full back in English.
But, she supposed, they were a team. No one wanted to be the guy who stood
against the team, and it took one to get it started. Maybe if she talked to
John—
That was stupid. What was the point anyway? No one ever read the retraction of
a big, gossipy news story. People liked headlines, and right now the headline
was Olivia Gable had blown the entire goddamn football team in the locker room
after Friday night's game.
No wonder her lip was swollen.
===============================================================================
Her social life took an interesting turn after that. Guys who'd never even
looked at her twice were suddenly asking her out. They always did it with an
icky gleam in their eye and a smile that was just a little too friendly. She
didn't go anywhere alone, not since a weird incident on Tuesday when a guy from
her chem class had asked her to stay a minute after lab to help him with
something and then tried to grope her tits.
They both got sent to the office when she punched him in the face, but she was
the only one who got detention.
There was a part of her that wanted to just say fuck it and become the slut
they all assumed she was. She didn't even care about that part; she despised
slut-shaming and thought the whole dichotomy of virgin/whore was complete
fucking bullshit and didn't mean a goddamn thing in real actual life. Except
the last thing she wanted to do was have sex with any of these disgusting
losers who were only giving her the time of day because they thought she was
easy.
And, of course, the one or two guys she'd actually liked before she started
going out with TJ now treated her like she had some sort of disease—which,
considering what they all thought she'd done, was a very real possibility. She
toyed with the idea of dating a girl, to the point that Tara offered to fix her
up with someone from her bio class, but in the end she'd decided against it.
Everyone was talking about her enough without adding fuel to the fire.
It was easy to have a philosophy about life, and a completely different thing
to live it. She wanted to stand tall and proud and say fuck you to everyone who
thought a woman exercising her sexual freedom was something shameful; and she
maybe could, if she'd actually done it; but the way people looked at her and
the way guys talked to her and the way girls didn't talk to her and the way all
the teachers seemed to pity her…it was a lot to deal with.
There were only a few days until Christmas break. She could make it through,
and maybe by the time they got back people would've found someone new to
whisper about.
Finally Thursday rolled around, not only the last day before break, but also
shop day. She could put on the fucking hood and hide behind the blow torch and
forget that she was the school pariah. Plus it was the only class she had with
Jax, Opie, and Juice, and the three of them plus Tara and Donna were the only
friends she had left.
She had completely re-worked the sculpture to submit to the expo, and now she
was starting something new. They were small, only a few feet high, and she was
planning a series. She'd finished the first one, and the second one was coming
along nicely. She was lost in her own little world, and she barely heard when
the bell rang.
"Yo, Ollie!"
She blinked hard as Jax' voice filtered through the whoosh of the torch. She
flicked it off and raised the visor. "What, Teller? Jesus, people are working
here."
He jerked his chin at the empty room behind him. "You gonna come to lunch, or
stay here all day and melt shit?"
"Oh." She frowned. "Yeah, I'm coming. Go ahead without me."
He hesitated and she waved him away.
"I'll be fine, Jax. I think I can walk from here to the cafeteria without being
assaulted."
He clearly wasn't happy about it, but a sixteen-year-old boy was ruled by two
things: his dick and his stomach. Right now it was lunchtime, and his stomach
was at the helm. "Yeah, all right. See you there."
She got rid of the gloves and the helmet and was stripping out of the jumpsuit
when Mr. Collins appeared. "Oh, Ollie. I thought you'd be gone by now."
"On my way out." She grabbed her water bottle and sketchbook and headed toward
her backpack.
"I'm glad I caught you, actually. You have a minute?"
"Sure," she said. She tucked the sketchbook away and hoisted her bag onto one
shoulder. "What's up?"
He propped himself on the table across from her and smiled a little. "How are
you?"
"Mr. Collins—"
He waved a hand. "I know. I'm just checking in. Your new work is amazing,
Ollie. Some of the best you've ever done, and I'm glad to see you get your mojo
back…but I'm also a little concerned."
She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. "Those rumors aren't true."
"I didn't really think they were. Especially when I realized who was probably
responsible for spreading them."
Her mouth quirked. "Some people don't handle rejection well."
"One in every crowd, unfortunately."
There was a pause while they watched each other across the table. He always
gave her the deepest looks. Like he could read every thought in her head, or he
wanted to. It was disconcerting, but also kind of refreshing. It seemed like
half the people she interacted with on a daily basis had little to no interest
in what made her tick.
He was tall, six feet-ish, and well-built in a thin, wiry sort of way. He wore
his brown hair too long for a teacher, and it constantly fell over his
forehead. He apparently only shaved every four days or so, because he had a
perpetual scruff-like beard that on most guys would like kinda skeevy, but
worked on him. He dressed in ties and cardigans and corduroys, and the same
pair of scuffed brown wingtips every day. It should have been dorky as hell,
and it was, but he was so unaffected about it, so effortless and easy, that he
somehow made it cool.
Everyone who had him agreed he was their favorite teacher, and his young age
and his good looks attracted more girls than metal shop normally would. Olivia
wasn't here for any of that: she'd signed up for shop freshman year because
she'd liked the idea, and once she was there she'd discovered something she'd
never known she had. Because of Mr. Collins.
The silence stretched. It never turned awkward or forced, but eventually one of
them would have to break it or they might be here all day. Finally Olivia said,
"So was this talk just so you could practice your worried teacher routine?
Because the only thing really wrong with me right now is hunger."
He grinned and dragged a hand through his shaggy hair. "It's actually about the
expo. They're announcing the awards tonight. You know first place is a nice
chunk of change."
"Second place isn't too shabby, either."
"True, but you don't really chase second place." His eyes were warm and his
voice quiet. "Do you?"
"No. Not really my style. I mean, if you're gonna be the school slut, you might
as well be the number one slut, right?"
His chin fell to his chest as he laughed. "Go to lunch, Ollie. I'll see you
tonight."
"Sure, Mr. Collins. You too."
She rushed through the door and stopped short as she almost ran over Dana
Riley. "Oh!" she said. "Sorry, didn't see you there."
"No," the other girl said, her full mouth moving in a nasty smile, "I guess you
were a little busy."
Olivia's brows drew together. "Um. Sure, Dana. Busy…running to the cafeteria.
If you're looking for Juice, I think he has English now."
"I know Juice's schedule," she said with a glower. "I was looking for you."
"Okay. Could we talk and walk? I'm really hungry and I'd like time to eat."
"This won't take long." She stepped closer and used every bit of her three-inch
height advantage to tower over Olivia. "Stay. Away. From Juice. You might have
him fooled into thinking you're Miss Sweet and Innocent, but I know better. TJ
told me everything."
"Did he?" she said, softly. "I somehow doubt that." She gently knocked Dana's
hand away from her face before she could stab her eye out with a sharp red
nail. "Juice and I are friends, Dana. Just like I am with Opie and Jax. If Tara
and Donna aren't threatened by me, then I don't know why you should be. And,
come on. Let's not play these bullshit games. We turn against each other, the
assholes win."
"I think you're the only asshole here, Ollie." She somehow managed to infuse
her name with a thousand terrible, disgusting things, and Olivia flinched from
it. Wow. Both scary and impressive.
"Dana, I'm not after your boyfriend. I have no interest in your boyfriend.
Just—leave me alone. And, you know. Maybe don't believe every goddamn thing you
hear."
Sick and tired of the whole thing, Olivia spun on her heel and didn't stop
walking until she was at her car. She spent the rest of lunch there, and didn't
move even when the bell rang. Finally, after another half hour of just staring
through the windshield at nothing, she started the engine and drove home.
Happy motherfucking Christmas, she thought.
***** Come Apart *****
Chapter Summary
     Sparks fly at Gemma's annual Christmas potluck.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                      i want to hold the hand inside you
                      i want to take a breath that's true
                        i look to you and i see nothing
                        i look to you to see the truth
                              you live your life
                               you go in shadows
                     you'll come apart and you'll go blind
                     some kind of night into your darkness
                    colors your eyes with what's not there
                          Mazzy Star, "Fade Into You"
So far they'd mostly spent Christmas break goofing off. What else was break
for? Gemma dragged Jax in to work at the garage, and he would try to get one of
them to come in with him. Usually they would agree; they all liked working
there; and halfway through his shift Jax would inevitably sneak off somewhere
with Tara, leaving his unwitting victim to carry the load.
None of them really expected anything less.
The garage was closed from Christmas Eve through January second, and it was
nice to do nothing for a change. On Christmas Day Gemma held her annual potluck
shindig, and this year Olivia had talked her father into going. It had taken
two words, and she was kind of worried about the implications.
"Dad, would you hurry up? If we don't get there soon there won't be any food
left. We're competing against all of SAMCRO, remember."
"I'm coming! I just can't get this tie right."
She paused. "Tie?"
"Come here, pumpkin."
She rolled her eyes and stomped back to his room. He was in front of the mirror
twisting a tie around and around his neck like an idiot. He had on jeans, a
white button down, and a blazer. And now a tie? It was worse than she thought.
"No. No ties."
"But—"
"Also lose the blazer. And untuck your shirt. Or, you know what? Don't move."
She dug through several drawers until she found his black AC/DC shirt. "Wear
this."
"Honey, I don't think—"
"Dad. I don't think she's going to be impressed if you show up looking like
it's a parent-teacher conference."
He blushed beet red, and Olivia knew she'd hit the nail on the head. He'd been
nervous and excited ever since she'd told him Juice's mom had been invited as
well. He'd asked Olivia probably ten times if she were going, and Olivia told
him Juice said she was…which set off a whole different round of nerves.
Olivia wasn't at all sure how she felt about the whole thing. It wasn't really
because she thought her father should be loyal to her mother's memory for the
rest of his life—she had no doubts that her parents had been very much in love,
and her father still mourned in his own quiet way—but more because it
was Juice's mom. Of all people.
"I'm going to start the car. Be out in five minutes or I'm leaving without
you," she said.
"Which one of us is the parent here?" he said with a good-natured scowl.
"I don't know, but probably not the one who's spent the last thirty minutes
changing his shirt twenty times. Oh wait."
He made a face and she grinned. She left him there to fuss some more, and once
she was in the car she did a quick check of her makeup and smoothed her hair.
She'd stopped wearing the foundation TJ had preferred, and her freckles were a
golden scatter across her cheeks. She felt better seeing them, more like
herself, but for some reason she felt a flutter in her belly about the party
that had nothing to do with her father chasing Juice's mom. It was just the
club crowd. She knew everyone (except Ms. Ortiz), and it wasn't like there'd be
any surprises.
She drummed her fingers on the wheel and honked. God, he was gonna take all
night. Even she'd only changed once, and that's because she'd decided a dress
might be a little nicer than ripped jeans and a flannel shirt.
Finally he appeared in the doorway with a sheepish smile. He'd put on the AC/DC
shirt like she'd suggested, and he'd done something truly dorky with his hair.
She really hoped Ana Ortiz was a kind woman, or else he was in a mess of
trouble.
===============================================================================
At least he was being subtle about it. Olivia's father was the only person Ms.
Ortiz knew at the party, so he had an excuse to talk to her, but he was
introducing her around to everyone and just generally being pretty cool despite
how goofy he looked.
Olivia had to admit Ana Ortiz was pretty: petite, with long dark hair and eyes
like her son's. Her skin was a few shades lighter than Juice's. Overall they
were as dissimilar as Olivia and her dad were alike. He must take after his
dad. She'd never heard him mention a father, and she hadn't asked. Family
questions could be sticky and it was usually better to let someone volunteer
their tragic backstory.
Tig had shoved a glass of eggnog in her hand at one point, and she'd drunk it
down without even thinking. It had been heavily laced with rum, and now her
head felt sort of spinny. She didn't drink as a rule, so her alcohol tolerance
was practically nonexistent. She was glad she hadn't worn heels. That could've
been both awkward and dangerous.
Trust Tig to spike the punch and hand out drinks to minors.
She had escaped to the hall where it was quieter and cooler, and she leaned
against the wall and let her mind wander.
She giggled a little. What had Tig been like in high school? A flirt, for sure.
Or maybe not. Maybe he was the shy kid who didn't come out of his shell until
later. A troublemaker, that was no doubt. No one could make as much trouble as
Tig Trager did without having years and years of practice.
The bathroom door to her left opened, and she straightened as Juice appeared in
the hallway. "Oh, hi," she said. "It's you."
Oh, hi. Well. Apparently alcohol made her both clumsy and eloquent.
He grinned at her, a huge, amazing smile that transformed his face and crinkled
the corners of his eyes a little and made her heart do a funny dance in her
chest.
"Oh," she said again, this time on a breath like someone had hit her in the
gut.
"Liv," he said, still grinning fit to beat the band. "I meant to tell you
earlier you look real pretty tonight. I like your hair."
She had curled it and pulled part of it back with a clip while the rest hung in
loose waves down her spine.
"I mean," he continued before she could say anything, "I like it when you have
it put up, too. Like in that bun thing you do sometimes? That's nice. But when
you wear it like this you can see your face and it's all long. I'm sure you'd
be pretty with short hair, too."
She lifted a brow. "Have you been chatting with Tig?"
"He gave me some eggnog."
She smothered a giggle behind her hand. "Yeah, I can tell." She hesitated.
Leaned against the wall again and tucked her arms behind her. "So, um. My dad
and your mom, huh?"
He made a face and slouched next to her. "Kinda weird, right?"
"A little."
He looked away with a frown. "Wasn't really interested in being your brother."
"Wow, Ortiz, you move fast," she said with a snort. "They haven't even been on
a date yet."
"No, I know. Just…she changed clothes like ten times and I thought we were
gonna be late and I didn't even realize why until you and your dad walked in
and she was like, oh James I'm so glad you're here it's so nice to see you! And
ugh."
Her brow furrowed. "My dad's actually really cool. I mean. Despite appearances
to the contrary."
"Well. You're cool, so I guess I'll give him the benefit of the doubt."
She ducked her head to hide a blush. "You think I'm cool?"
"Yeah. I mean, I don't really get your art stuff, but it's neat. It's neat that
you can…like you can take these scraps that no one wants, right? And you can
remake them. So they're old and useless and thrown out, but you make
them…beautiful, I guess." Color flooded his cheeks and his mouth twisted. Half-
drunk or not, he now felt like a complete idiot.
She touched his shoulder and he glanced up. Her smile was soft, radiant, and he
couldn't help but return it. "That's really nice, Juice. Maybe the nicest thing
anyone's ever said to me."
"Oh," he said. Now it was his turn to sound like he'd taken a punch.
They were standing close, she realized, almost close enough to touch without
even moving, and just as she decided to take a step back, he leaned even
closer.
"You smell good, like, all the time," he said.
"Ha! How much of that eggnog did you have?"
"Maybe two glasses. I don't know. You don't smell like eggnog."
"Thank goodness for some small favors." She bit her lip a little and cast a
look back at the living room. "I should probably get back. We should, maybe.
To, you know. Chaperone our parents."
"Good idea."
She turned away, but he grabbed her hand before she could move. "Hang on," he
said. "Wait."
She spun back with a frown, and he pointed up. "Mistletoe," he said.
Her eyes widened a little. "Ortiz—"
"It's tradition." His face went still and he smiled. "But we don't have to if
you don't want to. It's okay."
She lifted her chin and shook back the strands of hair that had fallen loose
from her clip. "No. You're right, it's tradition. And it's not a big deal or
anything."
"Nah, just like…a tiny peck, right? A kiss on the cheek."
"Exactly."
"And I'm not your brother yet."
She let out a quick laugh. "Shut up, Ortiz." They both moved forward at the
same time, and her knee bumped his and he half stepped on her toes and they
both let out sharp hisses of pain.
"Good start," he said with a grin.
"Clearly we were meant to be," she replied, her tone dry and self-deprecating.
But then quiet fell between them. She tilted her head to look up at him, and he
leaned down toward her. Their eyes met. She touched her tongue to her upper lip
and his pupils went huge. He brushed his palm over her cheek and lightly cupped
her face. She rested her hand against his chest.
A thousand things flashed through her mind at once. She remembered other kisses
in her life: TJ's rough, punishing ones; Justin Fitzhugh's hot, eager ones; the
girl from the club's sweet, wicked ones; Opie's gentle, soft ones; and then
others before and in between those more memorable. Opie, who could claim so
many of her firsts, couldn't claim her first kiss. That, ironically enough, had
been Jax.
They'd been twelve—well, she was twelve, he was eleven—and it was Tara's
twelfth birthday party. They were playing seven minutes in heaven, and when Jax
spun the bottle it landed on Olivia. They'd laughed about it, in that blushing,
uncomfortable way of kids who realize too late they might be in over their
heads, and trundled off to Tara's basement closet.
The small, dark space forced them to crowd close, and at first they'd just
laughed at the idea of it. They were almost like siblings, and it seemed weird
and silly. But then her hand had found his and he'd squeezed her fingers and
suddenly they were kissing, all awkwardness and bumping noses and embarrassed
giggles.
All of those kisses—and she thought there had been a nice number of them in her
brief sexual history—and she'd never felt quite the spark she did when Juice
Ortiz touched her face. Heat suffused her from head to toe, and she tried to
write it off as the rum, but she actually felt more clear-headed just then than
she had in weeks. Her lips parted on a quiet breath, and a voice inside her
screamed that she should run, get away, she wanted no part of him and his sweet
smiles and warm eyes, but she didn't move. She was glued in place.
He blinked at her in something like amazement. He hadn't even kissed her yet,
but he felt sure, for the first time in his life, that once he did things would
never be the same. She was just a girl. A girl who didn't even really like him
and who he felt…kind of…indifferent towards, so why was so dizzy and weird and
out of breath?
He'd kissed prettier girls. Girls who didn't seem so impatient with him. Smart
girls and, yeah, a couple of dumb ones. Girls with big boobs (like Olivia's)
and small ones. Tall girls and short girls—though, to be fair, usually short
ones because up until recently he'd been pretty fuckin' short himself. But he'd
never kissed a girl who had freckles across her nose like little starbursts, or
who had eyes that reminded him of springtime back home, or who made him feel
quite so…out of sorts every time he looked at her.
"I don't even think I like you," he muttered, and until she answered him he
hadn't known he'd said it aloud.
"That's okay, Ortiz," she whispered, her breath warm across his skin. "I'm not
sure I like you either."
Glad to have that settled, he finally closed the hairsbreadth gap between them
and pressed his mouth against hers.
She'd been expecting it, of course, but the kiss startled her. His lips were
tentative at first, questioning, but she leaned into him a little and he grew
bolder. He kept his hand against her face, the other at her waist, and she was
relieved he didn't try to roam.
Their lips parted, her lower one gliding easily between his, but neither of
them felt the need for tongue. She tasted the tang of rum and the sweet melt of
sugar, and when his fingers slid into her hair and tangled there she didn't try
to pull away.
He sucked a little on her lower lip, enjoying the feel of it, the soft, full
shape. He'd had no idea until his lips touched hers that he'd wanted to kiss
her since the first moment he saw her, the day she raised that helmet and
turned out to be a foul-mouthed, blunt-humored, big-eyed girl with a temper
that prickled and a laugh that lit up the room. Her body barely brushed his, a
whisper along his chest and against his leg, but he was almost painfully hard,
his erection an insistent throb that he hoped to God she wouldn't notice.
Holy shit he was in trouble.
They parted, briefly, to gulp air, but as their eyes locked their mouths
crashed together again and everything around them disappeared: the sounds from
the party; worries about their parents; Juice's insecurities and Olivia's
painful memories of TJ.
But they weren't gone, and when his hand moved to the small of her back to pull
her closer the world snapped back into focus and she pulled away. Despite the
sharp pinch of fear she didn't want to break the moment. Her nose brushed his,
and he pressed his mouth to her forehead when her chin dropped. They both
panted, scrambled for breath, and she wondered if he could hear her heart
pounding.
"That's, uh—that's some tradition," he said between deep gasps.
"Not sure that's typically how it goes."
He rested his forehead against hers and gave a disbelieving sort of laugh. "Is
that good or bad?"
Her face creased and he knew the answer before she said it. She stepped back
and tugged the barrette from her hair so that she could redo it. She wouldn't
meet his eyes. He touched her arm and smiled a little.
"It's okay, Liv. It was just a kiss."
"Yeah," she said with a wave. "Of course. And we've both been drinking."
"Right." He shuffled backwards, toward the bathroom. "We're both kinda—"
"Tipsy," she said when he broke off.
"Tipsy. That's it. Sort of—"
"Dizzy?"
"Uh huh." Somehow they'd drifted closer. He felt way drunker than he should
from just a couple cups of spiked eggnog. He couldn't stop looking at her
mouth, her smeared lipstick and bee stung lips. "Maybe a little, um…"
"Light-headed?" she whispered.
His head jerked in a sloppy nod and suddenly they were kissing again. He didn't
even know how, or who had kissed who; all he knew was that she tasted amazing
and now she was pressed against him, full-length, and there was no way she
didn't feel his hard on. He didn't have the spare brain power to worry about
it, though, because her fingers were doing some crazy tickle thing on the back
of his neck and he really needed to concentrate on not grabbing something that
would get him smacked. He decided on her hair, two handfuls of it, all soft and
silky and good-smelling, and judging by the noise she made that was a smart
choice.
Her last fully coherent thought was about this body: the lean lines of it; the
soft layer of baby pudge that insulated the firm muscle underneath; and just
the warm solid comfort of him, like a sweater straight from the dryer. Maybe
not the sexiest image, but at the moment there was plenty of sexy to go around
without her scrambling brain adding to the mess. She let herself drown for a
few seconds, just let go and enjoy the taste and the feel of him. He nibbled
her lip, but it was nothing like TJ, not at all angry or possessive, just easy
and…yeah, okay, sexy.
"Juice," she murmured against his mouth, "Juice, we can't—"
"One more, Livvie," he mumbled. "Just one more, k?"
His voice was low and husky and she felt it like the rub of velvet directly
between her legs. She shuddered and stumbled back, out of his arms and away
from his mouth and his body and the bizarre, drugging effect he had on her.
"We can't," she hissed. "Half of SAMCRO is right around the corner, not to
mention your mom and my dad. We can't just—we can't just make out in the hall
like…like drunkards."
She drew in a hard breath and scrubbed a hand over her face. He stared at her,
stunned and still sort of fuzzy.
"Besides that, don't you have a girlfriend? At least a sort of girlfriend?
Think carefully before you answer that question, because as of the start of
Christmas break she was hunting me down to warn me to stay away from her man."
"She did what?" he said, blinking hard.
"You heard me."
He rubbed the back of his hand against his still-tingling mouth. "She didn't
say anything to me. Shit, Liv."
"I told her she didn't have anything to worry about."
"Well no, she doesn't. Because you don't even like me," he said.
"Right. And you don't like me, either."
He lifted his arms in a shrug. "You're fine, but I don't like you like that."
"Perfect! Good. Okay. Then we're on the same page."
"Absolutely," he said. "This was just one of those weird…things."
"Weird things happen every day."
"Especially when alcohol is involved."
"Yes!" She waved a hand at him. "Good point! Really, really good point.
Definitely something to keep in mind."
"So it was a fluke. Just, like, mistletoe and Christmas and rum. Plus weird
shit going on with our parents and school's been kinda crazy, and—did I mention
you smell amazing?"
"No. Nuh uh. Nothing like that."
"Sorry. Just kinda slipped out." He turned awkwardly. "I'm gonna just—" Jerked
his thumb toward the bathroom. "In here. A minute. I'll, uh—"
"See you back at the party. Yup. In there with everyone else."
He nodded and ducked into the bathroom like someone was chasing him. As soon as
the door shut behind him she sagged against the wall and buried both hands in
her hair. What the fuck had she been thinking? She wasn't interested. He had a
girlfriend. She was still reeling from that shit with TJ.
That's all it was. Alcohol plus rebound. She took a few more minutes to pull
herself together before she straightened and drew in a deep breath. She'd just
spun toward the living room when Tara popped around the corner. She stopped
short and her mouth fell open.
"Olivia…did someone maul you?"
"What are you talking about?" she said with a forced little laugh. "I just—had
to pee." She started past her, but Tara grabbed her arm and tugged her back.
"You aren't going out there looking like that!"
"Like what? I'm perfectly fine." Her brows drew together. "Had a tiny bit too
much of Tig's eggnog, but otherwise okay."
Juice chose that moment to emerge from the bathroom. He paused when he saw
them, and his mouth moved in a brief, embarrassed smile. "Hi, guys."
"Holy shit," Tara said in a high strangled voice.
Olivia glared at her. "Sorry, Ortiz, Tara's feeling kinda sick."
He stepped out of the way with an apologetic grimace and Olivia dragged Tara
into the bathroom.
"Oh my God!" Tara cried as soon as the door closed. "Olivia Jameson Gable, you
shameless tramp!"
"Shhh! Would you keep your voice down?"
"Oh my God!" she said again. She pressed both hands to her mouth, and her dark
eyes sparkled with mirth. "You made out with Juice Ortiz at Gemma's Christmas
party!" she whispered before she clamped her mouth shut again.
"Holy shit, oh Jesus, this is bad, Tara. Like, bad bad."
Best friend instinct over road the need to tease, and Tara reached for her as
she started to panic. "No it's not. It's fine. Just breathe, Ollie. It was just
a kiss." She paused. "I mean, right?"
"What?! Tara!"
"I'm sorry but you should see yourself!" She turned her toward the mirror.
"Look at you, Ollie, you look like you've been—well, making out with Juice
Ortiz at Gemma's Christmas party. Well and thoroughly making the fuck out," she
said, impressed.
"Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. I look like the girl who sucked off the entire
football team in the locker room!"
Tara giggled. "Or just one Puerto Rican from Queens."
"Shut up. It was just a kiss, I swear. Nothing actually happened. He didn't
even try to cop a feel." And he easily could have, because there was a good two
minutes there when she'd been totally out of it, like completely blotto.
"One kiss? One teensy, itty bitty smooch beneath the mistletoe?"
"Um." She swallowed. "Maybe more like…five or six…really…intense kisses, but no
tongue he was like a total gentleman," she said, reluctantly at first and then
all in a rush.
"You look like that and you didn't even use tongue? Wow. Maybe I'm kissin' the
wrong guy."
"It's not funny, Tara!"
"It's a little bit funny."
"Oh my God," she moaned and slumped onto the counter. "What the fuck, Tara?
What have I done?"
Tara wet a tissue and dabbed at Olivia's swollen mouth. "You kissed a cute guy
at a party, babe. It happens. Not like it's the first time. And, I mean, it
looks like you had fun."
She blew her hair off her forehead. "I totally did."
"That's good, at least. How did you guys leave it?"
She hitched a shoulder. "Just, like. It was a fluke. Random happenstance no big
deal."
"Hhmm," Tara said, a low, skeptical hum.
"What?"
"Nothing," she said. She grinned. "I think you should kiss him again to make
sure."
"No. No more kissing. I am kiss-celibate. No kissing, no wanting to kiss, no
thinking about kissing. These lips are off limits."
"Probably smart. Dana finds out that happened she might snatch 'em off your
face."
"Fuck." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Let's just forget about this,
okay? Pretend it never happened."
Tara's mouth curved. "Whatever you say, kid."
Olivia shoved the clip into her hand. "Help me fix my hair and let's get back
in there before someone thinks we're making out."
She snorted out a laugh. "Also wouldn't be the first time."
"Reason number two hundred thirty-five I don't drink."
"It makes you very affectionate."
"Hey, your lips were there too."
She grinned and brushed out Olivia's tangled hair. "I just wanted to know what
all the fuss was about. You're a total babe, but I think I'll stick with guys."
"It's okay," she said and patted Tara's hand. "You're a total babe, too, but
our romance was doomed from the start."
"Star-crossed."
"Fated to be friends."
"I like blonds better anyway," Tara said.
"Yeah. And apparently I'm into Puerto Rican biker boys now."
"In all fairness just the one Puerto Rican biker boy; not like a whole bunch of
them." She got the barrette fixed and turned Olivia's head back and forth to
get a good look. "Besides, it was just a kiss. Right?"
Their eyes met in the mirror and Olivia smiled. "Right. No big deal."
Maybe if she said it often enough it'd be true. Or at least she'd start to
believe it, and that was half the battle.
Chapter End Notes
     Sooo for those of you who've read Come With Me Tonight, I'm planning
     to publish a series of "missing scene" one shots sometime soon.
     They'll be ao3 exclusive, as far as I know, and they're basically an
     excuse for me to write pwp porn.
***** Close the Door *****
Chapter Summary
     TJ's rumor-mongering has unexpected consequences.
Chapter Notes
     I think this chapter is gonna surprise you. I hope in a not-
     unpleasant way. :)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                              the lights go down
                      and the clouds are building outside
                      you close the door and turn the key
                         but there's no place to hide
                       Better Than Ezra, "Killer Inside"
The only good part about going back to school was the Cougar. It was officially
hers now; she'd made A honor roll last semester despite all the bullshit; and
her dad had handed it over with a proud grin. He'd known she was disappointed
by the expo—she'd come in third—but she assured him the car more than made up
for it.
She'd picked Tara up because she was so eager to show it off, and after
complaining for a good five minutes about her tape collection, she finally
picked something and they sang along the whole way to school. Olivia pulled
into a parking spot and cut the engine.
Tara grinned at her. "You know, I think it's all gonna be okay."
"Do you, Mary Sunshine? What gives you that idea?"
"I don't know. Just a feeling."
"Let's hope your optimism is catching, because right now all I feel is huge
fucking dread." She climbed out of the car and shut the door behind her. "It
was ten days, not ten years. I don't think everybody will've forgotten this
fast."
Tara made a face at her, but she didn't say anything as they walked to
homeroom. It looked like Olivia had been right anyway: the whispers and stares
were still there. She tried to ignore them, and Tara glared out at the faces so
that eyes slid away and heads dropped. They met up with the guys, except Opie,
but Jax said he'd left to walk Donna to her class.
Olivia offered Juice a brief smile. He nodded in return. They hadn't really
talked since Christmas, and so far his mom and Olivia's dad hadn't been on an
official date.
Tara elbowed her and Olivia scowled. She still hadn't given up the idea that
Olivia should kiss Juice again just to make sure. She was sure: it had been
nothing. She couldn't be held accountable for any of her actions when she
drank, which is why she didn't.
She absolutely wasn't thinking about what had happened when she got home that
night and locked herself in her bedroom. That, too, had been a side effect of
the rum. And it had been a really good kiss.
Olivia and Tara had homeroom together, but the guys were in another unit. They
left when first bell went, and Tara hooked her arm through Olivia's as they
filed into the classroom.
"Hey, Gable," one of the guys said. "Have a busy break?"
He smirked and Tara flipped him off. "Fuck you, asshole."
"What, Teller not enough man for you?" he said. He grabbed his crotch. "Don't
worry, baby, I got everything you need right here."
Tara snarled and lunged at him, but Olivia hauled her back. "Not worth it," she
said. "Just ignore them."
Tara gave him a heated look, and for a moment he quailed. It was a general rule
that you didn't fuck with Teller or Winston, or anyone who hung out with them.
He hitched a shoulder. "Just fuckin' around anyway. Didn't mean anything by
it."
"Sure," Olivia said with a wry, humorless grin. "That's what they all say."
She herded Tara to her seat and went to her own, and second bell had just rung
when Ms. Tully, the guidance counselor, appeared in the door. She conferred a
moment with the teacher before she cast a look across the classroom. They fell
quiet at this anomaly, and she cleared her throat.
"Olivia Gable?" she said. "Could I see you, please?"
Every eye in the room swiveled toward her and a flush spread across her cheeks.
She gathered her bag and made a face at Tara, who frowned in confusion and
shook her head.
"Is something wrong?" Olivia asked once they were in the hall.
Ms. Tully just smiled. "Mr. Presbolowski and I would like to speak to you about
something."
"Oh my God. Ms. Tully, listen, that nonsense about the football team is just a
stupid rumor. I broke up with TJ Flanary and he—"
"It's not about that, Olivia, but of course that rumor isn't true. Coach
Montoyez was with the boys until they left campus. It was a big celebration.
There would have been no chance for anything, ah, extracurricular."
"That's good to hear," she said with a frown. Maybe it was something good.
Maybe she'd won a prize or they wanted her to…to…God, she had no idea. Why the
fuck would it be anything good?
They reached the principal's office and Ms. Tully gestured her inside. They
both took chairs across from his desk. Mr. Presbo wore a serious, concerned
expression, and Olivia's heart sank.
Obviously nothing good.
"Olivia, how are you?" he said. "How was your break?"
"Great," she said, wishing he'd just get it over with. "Too short, I guess. Um,
what's this about?"
He let out a long sigh and leaned forward to steeple his hands on the desk
blotter. "Olivia, there are some things Ms. Tully and I need to discuss with
you. It's a sensitive topic, so if you would like to have a parent present
that's understandable."
She blinked back and forth between the two of them. Fear squeezed her gut like
a vise. "I—don't want to bother my dad. He works second shift. Could you please
just tell me what's going on?"
Ms. Tully cleared her throat again; it was a nervous habit; and smoothed her
floral skirt. "You're a wonderful student, Olivia. Your grades have improved so
much since freshman year, and everyone can tell how you apply yourself. I know
losing your mother was a terrible blow, but you've recovered from it in
remarkable fashion."
Olivia chewed her lip and waited.
"You're in Mr. Collins' metal shop class, aren't you?" Mr. Presbo said.
She tilted her head toward him. "I have been since ninth grade. Mr. Collins is
a great teacher."
She had an idea where this was going, but surely she was wrong.
"You two are close," Ms. Tully said.
Olivia smiled and straightened her shoulders. "I'm not sure what you're trying
to say, Ms. Tully. Yeah, we're close—because he's a great teacher. He's really
supportive of my art."
"He's the one who encouraged you to start sculpting, isn't he?" Ms. Tully said.
She nodded silently. She and Ms. Tully had had plenty of run-ins in the past;
she'd cast herself as Olivia's savior during the first year after her mom died.
Olivia'd spent most of eighth grade homeschooled because of her injuries, and
when she rejoined the land of the non-invalids in ninth, Ms. Tully had been
right there like a great hovering bird.
Despite her best efforts at various forms of therapy, it wasn't until Mr.
Collins had introduced her to the blow torch and told her she could make
whatever she wanted that Olivia finally started to feel like herself again. He
encouraged those first, slapdash efforts, and with his help her sculptures had
grown into something. Really something. A chance at a future outside of
Charming. A chance at…she wasn't even sure what. All she knew was that when she
was creating she felt like a different person, a person without problems or
worries or fears.
And she owed most of it to Mr. Collins.
Ms. Tully and Mr. Presbo were studying her carefully, and she realized she'd
been quiet for too long. "I take his class every semester because it's the only
place I can work on my stuff. I can't exactly weld at home."
"Is that why you come in on weekends, as well?" Mr. Presbo said.
"That's right. Mr. Collins has been generous enough to lend me his time so that
I can work. Like I said: he's supportive."
"Olivia," Ms. Tully said. Her face was creased with compassion. "We understand
that you're fond of Mr. Collins, and we can see why. We're just a little
concerned that perhaps your relationship is a bit…untoward."
Her mouth thinned. "Mr. Collins is always very professional. He has never made
me feel uncomfortable. Ever. Which is more than I can say for ninety-eight
percent of the guys in this school." She glared at Presbo: he was the one who'd
given her detention for punching the handsy guy in her chem lab.
"I'll level with you, Olivia," he said. "A student approached us just before
the start of break with some disturbing information. The student said they
observed inappropriate behavior between you and Mr. Collins."
Olivia gave a slow, amazed shake of her head. TJ. She couldn't believe it.
Destroying her reputation was one thing, but this was a man's career they were
talking about.
"That isn't possible, sir. Nothing inappropriate has ever happened between Mr.
Collins and me. Like I just told you, he's completely professional."
Ms. Tully patted her hand in a motherly way. "Are you sure you don't want to
call your father?"
"No. There's no reason to. This is…this is ridiculous. Mr. Collins would never
cross that line with a student. It wouldn't even occur to him!"
"He never touched you?" Ms. Tully said. "Never made any comments?"
"No and no." Her temper was rising, and she'd nearly lost patience with this
absurd conversation. "Look, do I need to go under oath or something? I'll tell
anyone you want. Nothing happened, ever, and it never would. I trust him
implicitly."
"So you and Mr. Collins didn't share a hug at the winter art expo banquet?"
Her mouth fell open. "A hug? Is that seriously what this's about?"
"No, Olivia. That's just one example," Ms. Tully said.
"It was just a hug! The same way I'd hug my brother! You guys are really
disgusting. What is this actually about? Mr. Collins, or me because I'm
apparently some great big slut?"
"That's enough, Olivia," Presbo said.
"He treats me the same as his male students. He doesn't even look at my chest
when he talks to me. It's straight in the eye every time, and do you have any
idea how rare that is?"
"You don't need to protect him," Ms. Tully said.
"Oh my God! You aren't even listening! Who do I need to talk to? I'm serious.
This is crap."
Presbo sighed and brushed his hand down his tie. "There's no one to talk to,
Olivia. The school board called an emergency session on Friday and made their
decision."
"How is that possible? I'm the supposed victim here and you're just now telling
me about this."
"It was out of our hands," he said. "To be honest, I believe they acted
harshly. We only have one student's word that anything happened, and now you
say they were lying. In light of certain…other scuttlebutt being spread around,
which Ms. Tully assures me cannot be true, I'm inclined to believe you're
telling the truth."
She drew in a harsh breath. "I'm guessing that doesn't matter."
"Unfortunately, no. Mr. Collins wasn't tenured. The board voted to let him go."
She slumped backwards, dazed. "I can't believe this. I can't. What does that
even mean? Isn't the teachers' union supposed to protect them from crap like
this?"
"His separation didn't mention anything about these allegations," Mr. Presbo
said smoothly.
"I see. So his career's only half ruined."
"Olivia—"
She made a quelling gesture. "It's just money," she said. "That's all the
Flanarys have. Just money. But it's so goddamn important that your school board
is willing to fire one of the best teachers at this school overnothing. It's
bullshit."
"We understand you're upset, Olivia," Ms. Tully said as she and Presbo
exchanged a glance, "but there's really no need for such language."
She snorted and scraped a hand down her face. "This has got to be a nightmare."
"Ms. Tully, I think in light of this news we can excuse Olivia from her classes
for the rest of the day. Go home, Olivia. Get some rest. Speak with your
father. Tomorrow can be a fresh start."
"Right," she said, fighting back tears. "A fresh start at a school where
everyone thinks I fellated the football team and banged their favorite teacher
out of a job."
She grabbed her backpack and stood up. "Thanks anyway," she said, "but I'd
rather just deal with it now. No sense putting it off."
"You know I'm here if you need to talk, Olivia," Ms. Tully said.
"Sure," she replied with a tight smile. "I've got your card."
With that she swung around and slammed through the door and back to another day
in algebra with TJ's nasty, smug grin.
===============================================================================
She parked down the block because her car was recognizable to anyone paying
attention. She even pulled her hood up over her head to cover her bright hair
and slipped on a pair of sunglasses. But when she got to his door she
hesitated. Maybe this was a huge mistake.
No. She had to apologize. She had to make sure he knew she hadn't started this
bullshit, and that she'd tried to do everything she could to prevent it. Maybe
she could write a letter. Start a petition. Heckle the school board. She
fucking hated the unfairness of it.
She took a deep breath and knocked. His beat up junker of a car was in the
driveway so she knew he was home. She waited. Knocked again. Finally the door
swung open and he barked out a sharp What? before his eyes widened.
"Holy shit," he muttered and dragged her inside. He shut the door behind them
and turned on her. "What are you doing here? Do you have any idea how much
trouble I could get in if someone saw you?"
"More trouble than you're already in?" She shoved the hood back, took off her
sunglasses, and glared up at him. "I'm not stupid, Mr. C. I parked like a half
mile away and I'm in fucking disguise here."
If he could curse so could she.
He raked a hand back through his longish brown hair and tugged at it. "You
shouldn't be here at all. What if the cops decided they needed to talk to me?
And then you're here in my living room? I'm sure they'd believe me when I told
them it was all bullshit."
"The legal age of consent in California is seventeen. I've been seventeen since
the first week of November."
He frowned at her. "How do you know that?"
She bit her lip and looked away. Shrugged a little. "I looked it up."
"Why the hell would you look it up?"
"To make sure the cops didn't come after you! And, look, it doesn't matter
anyway. Chief Unser does anything Clay says, and if I went to Clay and told him
what TJ did—" She broke off and spread her hands.
"Clay Morrow? The SAMCRO guy? Jax Teller's stepfather?"
"Yeah. But, you know, I didn't tell you that."
He let out a jagged laugh. "Right. Of course not." He crossed his arms over his
chest and glared at her. "What are you doing here, Ollie?"
"I came to tell you I'm sorry. This is fucking bullshit, and I told them that."
"What exactly did you tell them?"
"That none of it was true," she said with an adamant jerk of her head. "I said
you were an awesome teacher, and you never acted improperly. You never did or
said anything to make me feel uncomfortable, and when you talk to me…" Her nose
scrunched.
"When I talk to you what?"
She waved a hand. "You look at my face. My eyes. Not my boobs. I told them you
treat me just like your male students, and that whoever said differently was
lying."
He rubbed a hand over his face and spun in a slow, helpless circle. "I guess it
didn't do any good."
"They said they'd already made their decision."
"Yeah," he said, bitterly. "Weird how that happened. Didn't even talk to the
supposed victim before firing me."
"Yeah, that's what I said. I'm so sorry," she said, tears forming in her eyes.
"I had no idea TJ would do something this fucking petty. I mean, the football
team rumor—that sucked, but I mean—no big deal. But this? Ruining someone's
career? It's like a step beyond."
"One or two," he said with a sardonic lift of his brows. He paused and fixed
her with his probing gaze. "No big deal? No big deal that everyone thinks
you—you, uh—"
"Gave the entire football team head. It's okay; you can say it."
"Gave the entire football team head," he said with a frown. "I saw how it was
for you that week before break. You really trying to tell me it's no big deal?"
"Not as big a deal as this." She took a step closer. "Mr. Collins—"
"Ben," he said.
"Hm?"
"It's my name. Ben. I'm not your teacher anymore, Olivia, and I was always
uncomfortable with the whole Mr. Collins thing."
"Ben," she repeated. "Um. I, uh."
Her train of thought evaporated and she fiddled with the zipper on her jacket.
He wasn't her teacher anymore. Everyone in Charming thought they were fucking.
It wasn't illegal. She'd had a crush on him since ninth grade.
Was that why she'd come over here? Was the apology thing just a pretense?
Maybe, partly, but also because she couldn't stand the idea of him thinking
badly of her—especially so badly.
She smiled a little. "You know if I were going to have an affair with a
teacher, it would've been you."
"I'd hope so," he said. "The next youngest is forty-eight and married."
The dimple in her chin flashed as she grinned. "How do you know that's not my
kink? Middle aged men with belly paunches?" As soon as she said it her cheeks
flushed; had she seriously just said the word kink to Mr. Collins?
"And here I thought your kink was gang bangs in the boys' locker room."
Her mouth fell open. "Wow. Kind of a cheap shot, Mist—Ben."
He acknowledged that with a quirk of his brows and slid his hands in his
pockets. "Sorry. It really was."
"It doesn't matter," she said. "I mean, it does, but whatever."
"Olivia—" He hesitated. Looked away with a frown, and when he looked back his
expression was unreadable. "You know anyone who actually matters—anyone who
really knows you or cares about you—didn't believe that bullshit."
Her lips twisted and she rubbed the back of her neck. "Did you believe it?"
"No!" he said. "God no. You're not…you wouldn't…no. I didn't believe it."
"You know—and I haven't told anyone this, so…but I wouldn't care so much if I'd
actually done it. I mean, if I'd really blown the entire football team, fine,
whatever. My life my choice, right? Or if you and I had actually—" She broke
off and gestured between them.
"It doesn't bother me if people think I'm a slut because it doesn't matter.
What bothers me is people think I'm a slut and I'm. Not. I'm actually pretty
fucking…I don't know. Not innocent, but. Not slutty, either."
He lifted a wary brow. "I'm going to ask you an incredibly inappropriate
question, so feel free to walk out."
She made an impatient noise. "No, I'm not a virgin. But I also didn't sleep
with TJ, which is probably part of why he's so fucking miffed."
"You've got a really foul mouth," he said, but in a way that made her grin.
"Well yeah. It can't be that much a surprise. You were around on Saturdays."
She never watched her language on those days, when no one else was around and
she was basically alone with her work.
His head fell back in a laugh. "Didn't really think I should say anything,
since it was Saturday."
"It was still school, and you were still my teacher."
"Not anymore," he said in a quiet voice.
She cut a sharp look at him, and for a moment the air between them was thick
and tense. Their eyes met. She'd never noticed the gold-ish flecks amidst the
brown. She felt heat across her face and knew she had gone red. Sometimes she
hated having such pale skin; she couldn't hide anything.
He swallowed hard and his gaze flicked away. "You should probably go."
"Probably," she agreed with a tilt of her head. She took another step toward
him and was glad when he didn't back away. "Or I could stay."
"Stay? What, for, like, tea?"
"I like tea. But that wasn't really what I was thinking."
"This conversation has already gotten way too—"
"Way too what? Intense?"
"I was going to say inappropriate."
Her mouth curved in a sardonic smile. "That's one word for it."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "Did you really come here to apologize?"
"I'm ninety-five percent sure that's why I came."
"What's the other five percent?" he said.
She had drifted even closer during the last few moments, and now they were
inches apart. He pressed his hands to her shoulders to ward her off.
"I think whatever it is I don't want to know."
Except his pupils were huge, and now his face was flushed, too. He clearly did
want to know, but she suspected his own personal morality was a little too
well-honed to mess around with a girl who'd been his student up until a few
days ago.
And, honestly, she wasn't sure if any of this was a good idea or not. But she
was sick of…her life. Her new life since TJ Flanary. She was sick of the looks
and the whispers, and at this point what did she have left to lose? She was
already an outcast from all but her closest friends. He'd already been fired.
"Olivia, listen," he said; he sounded tense; "you're a beautiful girl, and
smart as hell. Talented. Funny. You know I'm a fan of your work, and your
bluntness is—refreshing, even when it's alarming."
"Are you trying to reject me or get in my pants?"
He choked on a laugh. "That isn't funny."
"You just said I'm funny."
"Not all the time."
"Then don't laugh," she said with a half smile. "Mr. Collins. Ben. I already
told you I'm not a virgin. You wouldn't be taking advantage of me. I know what
sex is about, and I'm not afraid of it."
He snorted. "You know what sex is about? You're seventeen, right?"
"We covered that, yeah."
"We know you didn't blow the football team, and you haven't been fucking me, so
how many people have you slept with?"
"Two," she said after a moment.
"The Winston kid, I'm guessing, and…who, since it wasn't TJ? Jax Teller?"
"Ew," she said. "No. It was just some guy at a party."
"A party hookup. Yeah, Ollie, you know all about sex."
Her chin came up. "You don't need to be mean about it. All I meant was that it
isn't a big deal. People think sex is this magical thing, this great Dionysian
mystery. But it's fucking not. It's just something two people do—or more than
two, fuck, I'm not gonna judge—when they like each other or they hate each
other or they're just fucking bored. It doesn't mean shit."
"That's what you think?" he said.
She was acutely aware that he hadn't let go of her shoulders, and now one of
his hands slid down to her elbow. She eyed it. "That's exactly what I think.
I'm sick of being told my virginity and my chastity are sacred. That's
bullshit. I'm sick of being told that a girl enjoying sex is something shameful
or cheap. It isn't, and I'm tired of the double standard."
He studied her so long she had to fight the urge to fidget. Finally he said,
"Do you?"
"Do I…what?"
His mouth moved in an impatient moue. "Enjoy sex, Olivia."
"Um. I mean, yeah. It's…it's great."
He huffed out a laugh. "Your enthusiasm is palpable."
She gave a restless shrug. "I like it well enough by myself," she admitted,
unable to meet his eyes as she said it, "but so far I've been a bit
underwhelmed by experiences with the opposite sex. Or with the same sex, for
that matter, but that didn't really go beyond heavy petting."
She refused to think about the kiss with Ortiz on Christmas. That had been a
fluke and wasn't at all relevant to this (admittedly bizarre) conversation.
When she turned her attention back to him she could tell he was surprised. She
blinked up at him.
"What? Shocked to hear I've made out with a girl?"
"Uhh…I don't know. More like, um…"
"Imagining it," she said with a grimace. "Big fucking surprise."
"No," he said and pulled himself together. "Just kind of shocked that hadn't
made the rumor mill."
"Oh." She flicked her fingers. "It was a girl I met at a club in Stockton. Tara
and I went as a lark, and I figured why not? It was fun. Not earth-shattering.
But fun."
She'd only had one earth-shattering kiss in her life, but she was not thinking
about that.
"So—Jesus Christ I can't believe I'm about to say this—so have you ever…? I
mean has a guy ever…?" He trailed off and she took pity on him.
"I've never come with someone else, no."
He stared at her. "Never? Party hookup I can understand, but weren't you and
Winston a thing?"
"We were, and he was super enthusiastic and everything, but, I mean…neither of
us really had a clue what we were doing. That doesn't exactly lead to…the 1812
Overture."
"I bet he got off."
"Duh. He always gets off."
"Olivia—you know—it's not really supposed to work that way. It doesn't have to
work that way."
She shrugged off his hold and turned away, rolling her eyes. "Of course I do.
Why do you think I didn't have sex with TJ? I had a pretty decent idea how high
my good time was ranked on his priority list."
His head fell back. He seemed to be appealing to some higher power
for…whatever. Patience or sanity or something. Finally he dropped his chin and
held out a hand to her. "Come here," he said, gently.
"I'm not your student anymore, Ben. I don't need you to teach me about the
birds and the bees."
"Olivia." He made a frustrated gesture at the couch. "Would you please just sit
down a minute?"
She lifted a brow and smoothed her skirt under her as she sat. She was wearing
the same thing she'd worn to school that day: a cream and blue long sleeve
plaid dress that hit just above her knee, paired with hiking boots; but somehow
she suddenly felt exposed. She shrugged out of her jacket with a very
sincere fuck you to any nerves that threatened.
He sank down next to her and offered a warm smile. "You're one of my favorite
students, Ollie. Teachers aren't supposed to say that, but I'm not a teacher
anymore so I guess it's okay. I always enjoyed your work, and fostering your
talent. I also like that you never let the guys in class give you shit. You're
sort of forging your way through a man's world without losing who you are, and
I admire that."
"But…?" she said.
"But you're a seventeen-year-old girl and I'm a twenty-six-year-old guy. It's
not appropriate for us to be having this conversation. At all. On any level."
She brushed a bit of lint off her sleeve and gave him a long, careful look.
"What if you'd met me somewhere else? I mean, what if you'd never been my
teacher? Like I'd met you in that club instead of that girl. What then?"
He shook his head. "You're really young, and I—"
"It's not against the law."
"It's not just about legality, Ollie."
He was the only teacher who called her Ollie. The only teacher who hadn't given
her quiet, pitying looks after TJ's gossip came out. The only guy besides the
ones in her circle—and weird Chucky from English Lit—who hadn't gotten that
leering gleam in his eye every time he saw her.
She crossed one leg over the other and leaned closer. "Answer the question.
What if we met somewhere else, and we—I don't know. Bonded over art. Maybe we
even met at a show. And I came over to hang out one day and we ended up in this
conversation. What. Then?"
He dropped his forehead into his hand. Let out a long, hard breath before he
met her eyes again. "I would—" He shifted his weight. "I would ask you if—if,
uh…"
She grinned. "I'm gonna be eighteen before you manage to spit it out."
He made a face at her. "I would ask if Winston or party boy ever bothered to go
down on you, or if it was just a one-and-done type thing," he said in a rush.
"Oh." Her mouth quirked. "Party boy, no. It was definitely one-and-done. Opie
and I…" She hesitated. "Opie and I tried a few different things, but not that.
He…offered once, but—I don't know. I guess maybe I didn't feel comfortable with
it. Why? You offering?"
She said it as a joke, but the look on his face widened her eyes and brought
another lick of color to her cheeks.
"Oh," she said again, a short breath of surprise.
"Not offering, per se," he said. "Just—"
"Thinking about it," she said when he broke off.
"Really, really thinking about it," he muttered.
She turned her head to hide a smile. She had two choices: stand up and walk out
right now, or stand up and…
She rose to her feet and pulled her dress over her head. His eyes went huge,
but that was nothing compared to his expression when she pushed him back
against the couch and lowered herself onto his lap. She kissed his neck and he
pressed his hands to her shoulders again.
"Ollie, this isn't—"
"Appropriate," she murmured into his jaw. "I know." She lifted her head and
smiled, slow and lazy. "What are you thinking about now?"
"Not entirely sure," he said in a strained voice.
"Hhhmm." She nibbled his earlobe. "I have a few ideas."
"This can't happen, Olivia," he said. He sounded a little out of breath, and
his hands had drifted down to her hips. She was pretty sure he didn't realize
that.
"Sure it can." She ran her tongue along his jaw. "All we need is a condom and a
flat surface. We've already got the second one."
"Condoms, uh, in the—in the bedroom." The last word came out as a squeak as she
wiggled against him. He shook his head and his eyes turned hard. "We don't need
a condom."
"I'm on the Pill, but I do prefer backup."
"We don't need a condom because that's not what's happening here." He slid one
hand under her ass and wrapped the other arm around her waist. Flipped her onto
her back and followed so that he was braced above her.
Now it was her turn to sound breathless. "So you'll go down on me but you won't
fuck me?"
"One step at a time," he said on a growl.
He kissed her then, slow and hot, and he spent a long time about it. He
lingered over her mouth. The soft white column of her neck. He seemed
fascinated by her collarbones, and the pulse that beat in the hollow of her
throat. He nipped her clavicles with his lips, and she made a delighted little
noise as she tangled her fingers in his hair.
He drifted lower, moving so slow as to be excruciating. He kissed her nipples
through the pale blue lace of her bra, and when she squirmed he reached behind
her for the clasp and got rid of it. He stayed there forever: used his lips and
teeth and tongue, his fingers and his rough palms, to tease and stroke until
they felt taut and flushed and impossibly sensitive.
He caressed her thigh with one hand as he toyed with her breasts. He tickled
the silky skin on the inside and snapped the waistband of her panties. She
giggled, and angled her body towards him, but he cast her a sly grin and made
no move toward the aching spot between her legs.
She had no idea how long he explored her body, tasting and touching and driving
her higher and higher, but by the time he finally tugged her panties off she
thought she might die from wanting. When he finally, finally buried his face in
her wet, swollen vulva she thought maybe, for the first time in her life, she
understood what all the fuss was about.
"Oh my God oh my God holy shit," she whispered in a breathless rush.
His laugh was a warm ripple against her skin. He took his time. Stopped to
check in, ask her what she liked, gauge her reaction to this swirl of his
tongue or that stroke of his finger.
"You're not—my teacher—anymore," she gasped through her moans. "You don't—have
to—demonstrate."
"Shut up, Olivia," he said with a smile. "If you don't know what you like, you
can't tell the next clueless idiot what to do. Just relax and enjoy it."
"I am en—ooo, I like that," she said as his lips clamped around her clit. She
felt his beard rub against her when he grinned, and that was it. She let out a
quiet cry and the heat exploded through her. He made low, rumbling noises of
pleasure as she came, her entire body going tight and her fingers clutching his
hair. Pulse after pulse, wave after wave, like a flurry of bright, hot
fireworks.
"Fuck," she rasped. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
He sucked softly on her labia as she spiraled back down, and when she was
finally coherent again she smiled at him. Her eyes were heavy-lidded with
barely a hint of green around the huge pupils.
"Okay," she said. "You win. I'm clueless."
He laughed. "Not as clueless as you were half an hour ago. But more clueless
than you'll be a few minutes from now."
"What's gonna happen in a few minutes?"
He slid a finger into her and pressed it against her G-spot. "Orgasm number
two."
Chapter End Notes
     Yesterday after I published ch8 I was thrown into a sort of
     existential crisis. Is this the direction I wanted to go? Did I just
     want to throw out everything I'd written from chapters 9-12 and start
     all over? But then I thought about it, and I re-read everything, and
     no. I stand by this chapter and all its implications.
     Olivia's in kind of a bad place right now, and while this is partly
     step one in a self-destructive spiral, it's also step one in her road
     to rebuilding herself post-TJ. Ultimately, of course, this is a story
     about Juice and Olivia, and everything that happens builds toward
     that.
     Oh, and the age of consent in CA is 18, but what's an au for if not
     au-ing things?
     I'd love to hear your thoughts!
***** Porcelain *****
Chapter Summary
     Olivia tells Tara her secret and encourages her to take matters in
     her own hands with Jax. Later, Olivia confronts Juice about certain
     suspicions she has.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                just the other day i felt i had you by a string
               just the other day i felt we could be everything
                 but now when i see you, you're somebody else
                      with somebody's eyes and your skin
                          your skin is like porcelain
                       yeah, your skin is like porcelain
                         Better Than Ezra, "Porcelain"
Olivia had been practically falling asleep at her desk all day. She was
exhausted, but in a pleasant, happy way. Lately the nasty little whispers and
barbed comments had just rolled off her. She'd told herself before she didn't
care…and now she really didn't. It didn't matter what they said, or that
everyone in metal shop blamed her for what happened to Ben.
She listened to them talk and snickered. They would all shit themselves if they
knew.
She gave a languorous stretch and ducked her head to hide a grin. Tara elbowed
her and lifted her brows. Olivia gave her an innocent look and shrugged.
"Ms. Gable, Ms. Knowles, is there something you need to share with all of us?"
Mr. Thompson, their English Lit teacher, said from the front of the room.
Olivia stifled a giggle and Tara rolled her eyes. "Jane should've dumped him
when she found out about the crazy wife in the attic," Tara said.
"She didn't exactly have a lot of career options," Olivia said.
"So she should just accept crazy attic wife?" Tara countered.
"I didn't say that. I just mean sometimes you're trapped in your circumstances
and your decisions are influenced by things that might not even be on the
page."
Mr. Thompson cleared his throat. "All right, ladies, thank you. But as you
know Jane Eyre was last week. Can we please concentrate on Lord Byron?"
"Sure," they said with matching shrugs.
Olivia opened her mouth to say something else, but he cut her off with a lifted
hand. "Moving on," he said. He turned back to the board and resumed the lesson.
When class was finally over Tara dragged Olivia into the girls' room and chased
everyone out before she rounded on her with a hard glare.
"What the fuck is going on with you? And don't try to lie to me, because I've
known you since second grade and I know when something's up. You've been weird
ever since we got back from break."
Olivia grinned and lifted her hands. "Just livin' life," she said.
"Are you on drugs? Why are you acting so...giddy?" Her eyes went wide and she
slapped a palm over her mouth. "Oh my God you're fucking Juice."
"What? Holy—no, I'm not fucking Juice. Why would you think I'm fucking Juice?"
Tara's eyes narrowed at the way she said it: she wasn't asking why Tara would
ask if she were fucking someone, just why she'd chosen Juice. "Hum," she said.
She leaned against one of the sinks and crossed her arms. "I don't know. I
thought maybe after what happened at Christmas—"
"Tara, please stop bringing that up. It didn't mean anything."
"Protest much, Gertrude?"
She rolled her eyes and squared her jaw.
Tara recognized that stubborn expression. "If it's not Juice, then who?"
Color flooded Olivia's face and she looked away. "I don't know why you assume
that's what's going on."
Tara lifted a brow. "For the last two weeks you've done your shifts at TM and
disappeared. No one can find you on the weekends. You aren't at home, or else
you're just ignoring the phone. You're not online. I drove by your house the
other day and the Cougar was there but you weren't."
She stepped closer and lowered her voice even though they were alone. "So who
is it? A girl? Is that why you're not telling anyone? You know we don't care
about that."
"So you thought it might be Ortiz because I'm not talking about it?"
"You seem so adamantly opposed to the idea, and I know you hate to admit it
when you're wrong."
She tucked her hands in her jeans pockets. "I'm not sleeping with Juice. It's
not about stubbornness."
She didn't tell Tara about the suspicion that had been growing for the past
several days: that Juice had been the one to go to Presbo with the accusations
about Ben. She wanted to blame TJ with all her heart, but honestly it just
didn't make much sense. How would he know enough to make up a story like that?
He had no idea how close they'd been.
"Are you going to tell me or what?" Tara said with a frown.
Olivia sighed. She checked the stalls again just to be sure, and stuck the
doorstop under the edge of the door to wedge it closed. "Okay, but listen: you
can't tell anyone. Not Jax. Not Donna. Anyone, Tara. Got it?"
Her brow furrowed, but she nodded. "Yeah, Ollie, I get it. Big secret. Best
friend level clearance only."
She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. "The story about Mr. Collins and me
is a lie. He was my favorite teacher, but that was it, ever."
"I know that," Tara said with a shake of her head. "It's just more of TJ's
asshole shenanigans. What does that have to do with—" She broke off. Blinked.
Then went perfectly still, like her batteries had run down or something.
Olivia waited her out.
Tara lifted a hand, and when she spoke again it was in a low, furious whisper.
"Olivia Jameson Gable, are you trying to tell me you're fucking Mr. Collins?
After everything? He got fired because of that shit!"
"No kidding. But they can't fire him twice."
"I know he's hot, but he's like thirty, Olivia!"
She made a face. "He's twenty-six."
"That is nine years older than you!"
"I can do basic math, Tara."
"Why are you being so calm about this? Do you not understand what a big deal
this is?"
"Of course I do. But it's not—we're not in a relationship. It's just…a thing.
That's happening. That's. Really happening."
Tara's mouth fell open. "What exactly is that look?"
"Tara." She gripped her friend's arm. "I have never—I mean I had no idea—he
made me come four times yesterday, Tara. Four. I didn't even know that was
possible. Over the last two weeks I think I've had more orgasms than in my
entire life before that combined."
Her eyes widened a little. "Are you serious? I mean, does he do that weird
tantra thing like Sting where he can keep it up for hours?"
Olivia waved a hand. "It's not like that. Sometimes we don't even have sex."
"I don't get it."
"We talk a lot. I mean, a lot. And then he'll spend like an hour—or more
even—just…and he always asks like what's working and what isn't and if I like
that better or this better, and just…paying attention."
"Wait." Tara closed her eyes and seemed to be playing the last several seconds
of their conversation over again. She opened them and fixed Olivia with a
disbelieving stare. "You're saying he'll spend hours on you? Without getting
his dick involved?"
Olivia nodded. "That's exactly what I'm saying."
"Is he gay?"
"No, Tara! We have sex sometimes—plenty of times—just not every time. And trust
me he has no problem getting it up."
"Then what's in it for him?"
"He's just—I mean, we're just—he's sort of like…teaching me." It sounded so
weird when she said it out loud, so clinical, but she couldn't really explain
what it was like.
"Teaching you. How to fuck."
She slumped against the sinks next to her. "No, that part's easy. He's teaching
me how to enjoy it. Because life's too short for bad sex."
"Oh my God." Tara pressed a hand to her forehead. "Well, I mean, he was your
fucking teacher."
Olivia giggled. "Now he's my fucking teacher."
"You're going to Hell," she said even as she laughed.
"Oh, babe. Totally. Worth. It."
She laughed harder. "How are you having better sex than me? That's not fair."
"You need to tell him."
"Tell who what?"
She sighed and nudged Tara with her shoulder. "Tell Jax what he should do. If
he's not getting the job done, talk to him about it."
"I can't just—that's—Olivia, come on."
"I'm serious, Tara. How's he gonna know if you don't tell him?" She paused. "Do
you fake it?"
Tara squirmed a little. "Sometimes."
Olivia eyed her.
"Most of the time," she admitted with a frown.
"Yeah, see. If you do that how's he supposed to know? He thinks he's king of
the world because he makes his girlfriend come at the drop of a hat, and
meanwhile you're waiting for him to leave so you can dig out your vibrator."
She choked out a laugh. "Ollie!" She shook her head a little. "I don't know.
Wouldn't that, like…hurt his feelings? To know he's not…"
She trailed off and Olivia lifted a brow. "If his ego's so fragile he can't
handle a little course correction then he has bigger problems. Look, you aren't
telling him he's shit in bed. You're just telling him what you like. You're
telling him he needs to pay attention, and that his orgasm isn't the be-all,
end-all. And, I mean, it's kinda sexy. More than kinda. It's really fucking
sexy. Once you get past the awkward bit at the beginning."
"It's the awkward bit at the beginning that worries me."
Someone banged on the bathroom door when it wouldn't open.
"Fuck off!" Tara yelled. "We're busy in here!"
There was a flurry of angry whispers before the voices faded and it was quiet
again. The second bell had rung several minutes ago, but apparently they'd both
decided to skip their next class without even talking about it beforehand.
"So, okay, I get that," Olivia said as if they hadn't been interrupted. "But
you trust Jax, right?"
"Of course I do."
"Okay. Then how bad could it be? You love each other. He probably wants to know
what you like. And, I mean, if he doesn't—?" She lifted her arms in a shrug.
"That's a point, I guess. God I can't believe you're fucking Mr. Collins."
"I kind of can't either," Olivia admitted. "I know it's not—it's not the best
idea. And it wasn't like I planned it. But holy shit we're having so much fun."
"How did it even happen?"
She hitched a bemused shoulder. "I went over there to apologize. I wanted to
make sure he didn't think I'd said anything or done anything to make people
think there was something going on."
"And, what, you fell on his dick?"
She started to elbow her, but then stopped short and tilted her head. "Maybe
sort of. A little." She gave Tara a recap of their weird conversation, and then
the move she'd done with her dress and his lap.
Tara blinked. "Olivia, I love you, but that is maybe the craziest fucking thing
I've ever heard."
"No shit. I still—like, I think back on it and I'm amazed. I've never done
anything even remotely like that in my life. I always wait for them to come to
me, for them to make the move, but it's like I looked at my life and I looked
at all this fucking bullshit and I was so goddamn mad. And I was sick of
letting everyone else make moves around me while I just stood still and
reacted."
"So you decided to switch from goalie to forward."
Tara played soccer up through eighth grade, and she still thought in sports
metaphors about forty-five percent of the time. "Something like that, yeah."
"I guess I get that." She pursed her lips. "I just worry about you, Ollie. It's
a pretty extreme reaction to TJ's bullshit."
"You told me I should find someone to fuck until I got over TJ."
"I meant Juice! Someone our age! A college freshman at the oldest. Not your
former teacher who's nine years older than you!"
"Will you keep your voice down? Someone could hear you! You think I haven't
thought every single thing you're saying? It's not a relationship. I'm not hung
up on him, and I have no intention of getting hung up."
"You can't say that, Ollie. Sometimes shit just happens."
"Not to me, Tara. Not anymore. I'm doing this to take control of my life. It's
my decision. My choice. All those people out there who want to call me a slut
and a whore and talk about me behind my back can fuck themselves. I'm done
being afraid. I'm done being a victim. I'm done having sex used as a
weapon against me. I'm having a good time with Ben, and that's what I want
right now. Everything else is just noise."
Tara gave a weary shake of her head. "All right, Ollie. Girl power. I guess I
kind of envy you. I mean, above and beyond the hot and cold running orgasms."
"Talk to Jax. Seriously. You won't regret it."
"Maybe you're right."
"I am right. Is this the glowing skin and relaxed countenance of a woman who
would lie to you?"
"Smug bitch," she said with a twisted smile.
Olivia shrugged and flashed a mischievous grin. "Guilty as charged."
===============================================================================
Tara had been thinking about her conversation with Ollie all day. She was
worried about her, like she'd said, but at the same time she really did envy
her. She was confident and happy and more like herself than Tara had seen her
in months. It didn't sound like Mr. Collins was being a creep, and if he was—at
least it included a whole lot of orgasms. And for all that the whole thing was
kinda weird, he was better than TJ Flanary.
Jax had to work at TM that afternoon, and while she should've been doing her
homework Tara thought about what Olivia had said. She loved Jax, and their sex
life was fine. Mostly. Sometimes Tara felt like it was something she wanted to
get over with so she could finish up her math homework, and she definitely
understood that wasn't the attitude you should have about sex with the guy you
loved.
She drummed her fingers on the desk. Gemma had given Tara the sex talk, too,
and one thing she'd said stuck out in her mind now: if you can't talk about it,
you shouldn't be doing it.
If she were afraid to talk to Jax about making things better, then why was she
sleeping with him at all? She threw down her pencil with a frustrated huff and
picked up the phone.
It rang four times before Ollie answered. She sounded out of breath.
"Not interrupting something, am I?" Tara said with a smirk.
"Umm…I'm sort of on the other line but let me go get rid of him."
She let out a shocked laugh. "Olivia!"
"Shut up. Be right back."
Tara doodled a little while she waited. Maybe she should hang up and call back
later. Let her finish…whatever she was doing. She debated it until abruptly
Olivia was back.
"Hey, babe. What's up?"
"Was he mad?" Tara said.
"Ha. No. I told him it was you, and best friend always trumps guy. Every time."
Tara muffled a giggle. "Were you seriously having phone sex with Mr. Collins?"
"Ben. And. Well, yeah."
"Jesus, Ollie."
"You and Jax should try it sometime. It's fun."
Tara hesitated. "Um, you know, it's funny you should say that."
"Ooo. I'm intrigued."
She scribbled through the doodle she'd made and started another one. Dropped
her pencil again and sighed. "Okay, time to get personal."
"Please. I think we threw off limits out the window right about the time we got
drunk and made out."
"True," she said with a laugh. "I've actually been thinking a lot about our
conversation earlier. About how you said I should talk to Jax?"
"Um hum. You're wondering where to start?"
"Yeah. And what to say."
"Maybe don't say much at all."
"What do you mean?"
"Okay, like, instead of starting the conversation with hey, Jackson, you need
to quit thinking about your wiener and pay proper worship to my glorious
femininity—"
"Christ, Ollie."
"You could ask him if he'd like to watch you."
"Watch me…?"
"Tara. If he sees what you do when you're alone, it can give him an idea of
what he should do when you're together. Right?"
Tara's mouth fell open. "Huh" was all she managed.
"And make sure he understands that's why you're doing it. Tell him after if you
want, but he might not pay as much attention if he doesn't get it. Or you could
tell him after and be like so you need me to show you again, chief? Or now you
try, but that time you talk him through it if he gets stuck or too hasty or
whatever. And make it like his penis isn't even an option until you're ready
for it to be."
She rubbed a hand across her forehead. "Do you think—I mean, do you think he'd
like that?"
"Trust me, Tara. He'll like it. Maybe not with a casual hookup, but with you?
He'll like it. Is he coming over tonight?"
"Yeah. He should be here pretty soon, actually."
"Perfect. Put on that thong you bought the other week and rock his world."
"You did not just say that."
"I did. But let's pretend I didn't."
"Ollie, you—oh shit I think I hear his bike."
"Good luck. Tell me how it goes, okay?"
"Uh huh. You calling him back?"
"Duh."
She laughed. "Have fun, tramp."
"You too, bitch."
"Love you."
"I know." Olivia cackled and hung up before Tara could respond, and she was
left staring at the phone and rolling her eyes.
===============================================================================
Olivia picked Tara up the next morning—they'd started switching off to save
gas—and she slid in the car with a smug grin and a sigh.
"Good morning, best friend forever Olivia Jameson."
"And to you, Tara Grace." She grinned. "I'm guessing it went well."
She fell back against the seat and giggled. Her eyes were bright, and she had
the loopy smile of a drunkard. "You could say that."
"I told you he'd like it."
"You were right. And you were right about him thinking everything was hunky-
dory. He was clueless."
Olivia smirked. "You offered to educate him, I hope."
"Oh yeah. For once in his life I think he's actually gonna pay attention to
class."
"It's a brave new world, chica, and life's too short for bad sex."
"Fuck yeah," Tara said.
"Fuck yeah," Olivia echoed as they bumped the backs of their hands together.
She cranked the radio and they sang along to "My Sharona" until Olivia turned
into the school parking lot. The climbed out of the car and Tara poked her arm
as they came around the hood.
"We should do a movie marathon this weekend. Reality Bites."
"Clueless."
"Empire Records."
"Damn the man," Olivia said.
"Save the Empire. Unless, of course, you have plans with you-know-who."
"Lord Voldemort?"
Tara rolled her eyes. "You're an idiot."
"Nah, I just babysit. You-know-who can take care of himself, I'm sure. He's a
grownup."
"Who is?" a voice said from behind them. "Lord Voldemort?"
Tara gasped out a laugh. "Hey, Juice," she said and lifted her brows at Olivia.
"Yeah, Ortiz," Olivia said and rolled her eyes. "Lord Voldemort."
"There's Jax," Tara said. "I wonder if I can talk him into skipping homeroom."
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Olivia said. Then, "Oh wait I'm the one who
blew the entire football team and fucked my teacher out of a job."
Juice choked, but Tara just shot a grin over her shoulder as she sprinted
across the parking lot. "What was that about?" he said when she was out of
earshot.
Olivia cast him a cold look. "Don't you usually park over there with Ope and
Jax?"
"I did. I just saw you guys pull in, so I thought I'd come over to say hi. Make
sure you got in okay."
"Thanks, but I don't really need the type of help you're offering."
He blinked at her. "What does that mean?"
"Please," she said. "As if you don't know."
He scrubbed a hand through his short hair. "I really don't, Liv."
"Get in the car," she said.
"Huh?"
"Get in the car."
He held up a hand and slid into the passenger seat. She slammed the driver's
door and turned the radio up. "You went to Presbo about Mr. Collins."
"What…about Mr. Collins?"
"Ortiz! Quit playing dumb. I know you're the one who told Presbo that Mr.
Collins and I were fucking."
He spluttered and coughed, and when he finally had enough breath to speak he
couldn't think of anything to say.
"We weren't, by the way," she said. "So thanks for that."
"Olivia, shit, I never—"
"No? Even after that conversation we had about how you
were interrupting something and Mr. C was giving me a look?"
He barely even remembered that conversation. "You said—you said it was nothing.
That I was imagining things."
"Of course I did. Because you were!"
"Okay, so…? You said that, I believed you, and that was it. And even if you'd
stood there and said you'd just—um." He rubbed a hand down his face. "If you'd
told me I was right and there was somethin' going on, I wouldn't have ratted,
Olivia. It's your life, for fuck's sake. You want to sleep with your teacher,
fine. You wanna blow the whole goddamn football team, fine. You wanna let that
asshole TJ Flanary get away with trying to rape you, fine!"
"What the fuck, Ortiz? You don't have any right—"
"You're right. I don't. You've made that real fucking clear."
"Why are you so mad at me? You are the one who—"
"Who what, Olivia? Who picked you up off the side of the road and let you cry
all over me and never said a single word to anyone about it? Even when TJ
started that fucking rumor, I kept my mouth shut. Now you're accusing me of
ratting out you and Mr. Collins like I'd even fucking care!"
"I never said you cared! And, what? You were nice to me so now I should be
sucking your dick, too? That isn't how life works, Ortiz!"
"Jesus Christ, Olivia, what is your problem? Did I say that? All I said was I
don't appreciate you accusing me when I'm the one keeping your fucking secret!"
"Well let me get you a goddamn medal!"
They were both full-on yelling, and despite the volume of the radio she was
sure people could hear them. Luckily the lot was mostly empty by now, but that
meant they were both going to be late to class. It didn't occur to either of
them to care.
"I don't get you, Olivia. I really don't. We had that—moment or whatever—the
night you broke up with TJ—"
"There was no moment."
"Whatever. Then at Christmas—"
"Don't even mention that. We already decided what that was."
"Yeah," he said, his eyes furious and his voice a challenge. "What it was was
fucking incredible and you know it."
That took the wind out of her sails. Her mouth fell open and she stared at him.
Color rode high on her cheeks, and her eyes were as green as he'd ever seen.
She was a panting, pint-size storm of rage, and he suddenly wanted her so bad
it hurt.
"Don't look at me like that, Ortiz," she said on a hard breath.
"Like what?" he said, his mouth curving up just a little.
"However it is you're looking at me now," she whispered.
"That's just the way my face looks when I look at you," he murmured.
Her lips quirked. "Smooth motherfucker."
They were both leaning over the center console, and somehow their faces were so
close she could feel his breath on her skin, a warm tingle across her lips. If
either of them turned their head just a fraction they'd be kissing again, and
they'd both be lying if they said that wasn't the number one thing on their
minds just then.
She blinked but didn't move. "We should get out of the car now."
"Not sure we're done here."
"I think we are."
"I didn't rat you out, Olivia."
"I'm fucking Mr. Collins."
His eyes went round—like perfectly round, which was amazing considering their
shape—and he reeled backwards like she'd punched him.
"What the fuck?" he said in a croak.
"I just thought you should know what a slut I am, since you seem to have me up
on some sort of pedestal." Her eyes were bright and steady on his as she
smiled. "Do you want to fuck me, Juice?" she said, quietly.
"Wh—what?" Who. The fuck. Was this girl?
"It's a simple question. Yes or no."
"I don't think you're a slut, Olivia. I don't care if you are or not. I mean—I
don't care—who you have sex with."
"Right. Because you don't care."
He made a frustrated gesture. "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant it
doesn't make a difference to…to how I feel about you. I mean, to whether or not
I want to—"
"Fuck me."
"Hang out with you."
"Mmm," she said, a low, skeptical noise. "So your answer is no?"
"I—you can't just—Jesus, Liv, what kinda question is that?"
"An attempt at transparency. I think it's a refreshing change from rumors and
lies."
He threw up his hands. "I'm a sixteen-year-old guy. You're cute and have a
great rack. Of course I want to have sex with you!"
Her brow furrowed and she sat back. "So it's just physical attraction?"
"Sure, yeah, I guess."
"Did you think I'd have sex with you after you picked me up that night?"
He made a face. "Of course not. That's gross, Olivia. Are you seriously with
Mr. Collins?"
"I'm not with him," she said with a dismissive flick of her fingers. "We're
just having sex. Everyone thought we were before, so why not?"
"You weren't before?"
She let out an exasperated huff. "No, of course not. I told you that."
"You're a very confusing person, Olivia."
She slumped a little and drummed her fingers against the steering wheel. "You
should be inside my head."
He took a deep breath. "Look, I get that you don't think about me that way.
What happened at Christmas really was just a fluke for you, but—"
Her face twisted. "Don't be an idiot, Ortiz. Of course I think about you that
way. Of course that kiss wasn't a fluke." She rolled her eyes and her mouth
moved in a grimace. "I think about you all the time. Why do you think I work so
hard to keep you away?"
The air left his lungs in a short, hard whoosh. She thought about him all the
time? Like all the time? In class? Eating dinner? In the shower? He thought
about her in the shower sometimes—her in the shower, but also while he was in
the shower. Sometimes both at the same time.
He shook his head to clear away the images.
"I'm even more confused now," he said when he could speak again.
She lifted a hand in a slow shrug. "This thing with Ben—Mr. Collins—is just
a…thing. I mean, I like him, and we're having fun, but it's just killing time.
He's twenty-six. I'm seventeen. Obviously it's not going anywhere." She worried
her lip with her teeth. "That's all I have the head space for right now. I
can't handle anything…important."
She lifted her eyes to meet his, and her expression was…he didn't know.
Imploring, a little? That didn't seem like her.
Of course, he never would've thought she would fuck her teacher, either.
She poked him. "Are you listening?"
"Um. Yeah. And, c'mon, I get it. You think I'm with Dana Riley because of our
deep spiritual connection?"
"Damn, Ortiz," she said with a laugh. "That's not very nice."
"I don't mean anything bad. She's not lookin' for a deep spiritual connection,
either. We just—we understand each other. It's easy." When she wasn't getting
pissed at him about Olivia, that is.
"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I get that."
"I guess that's how things are with you and…" He waved a hand. He couldn't
actually say it out loud; it was too weird.
"Basically, yeah."
A silence fell. The car felt too warm, too close, but neither of them moved to
roll down a window. The radio went quiet as the soft, haunting bars of that
Mazzy Star song filtered through the speakers. She reached for the knob with a
frown, but Juice stopped her.
"Don't. I kinda dig this song."
She eyed him. "Really?"
"I don't know. It's kinda nice."
She fell back, her head against the rest, and rubbed her thumb across a smooth
spot on the steering wheel. They listened for a time, and finally Olivia
nodded. "Yeah," she murmured. "I guess it is."
Juice cleared his throat. Shifted his weight and looked out the window. "You in
love with him?" he said, so fast she wasn't sure she understood.
"In love? With—? God no. Weren't you listening? That's the point. No danger of
that."
He turned back to her with a frown between his brows. "You ever been in love?"
She looked like he'd asked if she'd undergone Chinese water torture. "No," she
said. "Thankfully."
His lips twisted. "If you've never done it, how do you know it's so awful? Jax
and Tara seem pretty damn happy."
"No offense, but you haven't known Jax and Tara that long. They're happy now.
Give them six months."
"Okay, so, what about your parents? They were in love, right?"
"Yeah," she said, a smile brushing her mouth. "They were."
Her face hardened. "And then she died."
"I never met my dad," he said after a moment.
She snorted. "We gonna swap sob stories, Ortiz?"
"You know, you get mean when you think someone's getting too close," he said, a
mild rebuke that was mostly just an observation.
She swiveled her head to look at him without lifting it. "I guess that's been
our problem all along: you get too fucking close."
"Yep," he said, bitterly, "my mistake. Ope and Jax warned me, but I'm an
idiot—as you're so fond of pointing out."
She twisted toward him, her lips parted and her cheeks pink. "I never meant—"
"I know, Liv. It's okay."
"No it's not. Jesus, you must think I'm such a bitch."
He hitched a shoulder. "I think you're a lot of things. Confusing as fuck.
Stubborn. Funny. Smart. Cool. Mean, sometimes. Generous, all the time. A little
bit crazy. A lot self-destructive."
She blinked, nonplussed. He hadn't said cute or stacked, and she wasn't sure
what to make of that. "All of that in only two months?"
"I sort of think about you all the time, too," he admitted with a sheepish
smile.
She tilted her head. "Like, all the time, or just when you're not occupied with
other things?"
"Um." His eyes darted away and he flushed. "You know. Often. Three or four
times a week. Sometimes."
"Holy shit, Ortiz, get a fucking hobby! Don't you have a girlfriend to help you
with that sort of thing?"
He scowled at her. "She does, but I still—I'm sorry, okay? You think I want…I
got a good thing goin' with Dana. Easy, like I said. Then you come along and
just fuck everything up. Cry on me and beg me to keep your secret and kiss me—"
"Your lips were equally involved in that kiss, Juice!"
"You don't want me close anymore, fine. You got it. You're not worth all this
fucking trouble." He winced as soon as he said it. Fuckin' A, talk about foot
in the mouth.
"I'm sorry, I didn't—"
"No." She sat up and forced a tight smile. "No, you're right. And even more
than that, I never asked you to take the trouble. I don't need your pity. Poor
little Ollie Gable, the school slut who can't tell anyone how she almost got
raped that one time. Fuck that, and fuck you."
The muscles in his jaw danced as his eyes darkened. "I never once pitied you,
Olivia. I never would. But if that's how you wanna see it, fine." He shoved the
door open. "I really gotta get to class."
She gave her cheek a furious swipe and wouldn't look at him.
"Maybe I'll see you around," he said. "If you're not too busy fucking half the
school because you think you got somethin' to prove."
She rounded on him, mouth open, but he slammed the door and stormed away before
she could say anything. She watched him cross the parking lot: his long, angry
strides. The furious set of his shoulders. His fists were clenched and his head
was bowed and she felt her heart sink to her stomach.
"Well," she murmured to the empty air, "I guess that takes care of that."
Chapter End Notes
     Things are gonna get a bit worse between these two before they get
     better. :/
     In other news, I knew I was in trouble with the Olivia/Ben storyline
     when I decided he looked like a young Michiel Huisman (Cal from
     Orphan Black and this season's Daario Naharis from Game of Thrones).
     Oh, and as for the Harry Potter reference and Tara's reaction to it:
     remember that this is the 90s. The first two books were out (eh,
     depending on my mood), but it wasn't like now when you can't toss a
     cat without hitting like 10 HP references.
     I love hearing from you guys, so if you'd like to drop a word or
     two... :)
***** When We Fight *****
Chapter Summary
     Jax and Opie stage an intervention (at Tara's very strong urging),
     and later Juice and Olivia butt heads...again.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                         now retreating from the light
                            i love it when we fight
                               it makes me think
                            at least you still care
                        Better Than Ezra, "Live Again"
Olivia was at the kitchen table doing her homework when her dad came in. He
seemed tired. And worried. She frowned and put down her pen. He lowered himself
into a chair across from her and fixed her with a long, deep look.
"You seem like you've got somethin' on your mind," she said, trying to make
light of it.
He sighed and rested his hands on the table. "Pumpkin, what's going on?"
She smiled a little. "I don't know what you're talking about, Daddy."
"I got a call from Ms. Tully today."
"Oh geez. Dad—"
He held up a hand. "Apparently you've been missing class? You didn't come in at
all today, she said. Are you sick? And what's this I hear about Mr. Collins
being fired? He had an affair with a student?"
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I cut class today because I had
a sort of—a fight with someone. It was really upsetting, and after everything
that's been going on…I just wasn't up to facing it all."
"What's been going on, Ollie? I wish you would talk to me."
"It's not…" She trailed off and shook her head. "They fired Mr. Collins because
someone started a rumor that he was having an affair. With me."
He blinked at her. "Olivia—"
"It's not true. He was always completely professional. I told them that, but
they didn't care. They fired him before they even came to me about it."
His brow furrowed and he rubbed his forehead. "Mr. Collins aside, I can't
imagine you doing something like that. You're too responsible for that kind of
nonsense."
She dropped his eyes and fiddled with her pen. "It's been hard, because the
whole school knows why they fired him. Everybody blames me for it."
"Hum." His frown deepened. "I don't understand, sweetheart. Why would someone
get that idea if there was nothing to it?"
She opened her mouth. Closed it again. Cleared her throat. After the
confrontation with Juice today, she believed he hadn't been the one. That left
her with only one other suspect. "I'm pretty sure it was TJ," she said.
"Because you broke up with him?"
She hitched a shoulder. "He's not the guy you break up with, Daddy. He's a
catch. It's probably made him reevaluate his entire lifestyle." She said it as
a joke, but it fell flat as her voice caught. "He also started a rumor, before
break, that I—"
She literally couldn't get the words out. How could she possibly say something
like that to her father? She flushed dark red and rubbed her palm against her
jeans.
Finally she said, "That I did something extremely…ill-advised. With the
football team. After the game that night I broke up with him."
He sat back in his chair, wide-eyed. "I'm guessing this ill-advised activity
was of a sexual nature."
"Yep," she said with a grim nod.
"Who the hell does this kid think he is?"
"Son of the richest man in town. Old story, but no less true."
"Nobody believes that nonsense, Ollie."
"Well, they kind of do. I mean, not my friends. Like, Jax and Tara and Ope and
everybody—but pretty much everyone else. My scarlet letter's an S for slut."
He gaped at her. "Baby, I'm so sorry. I had no idea you were going through…" He
scrubbed a hand over his face. "You know, it's hard, being a single dad with a
teenage daughter. I know there are things you don't tell me—plenty of
things—and I understand why you were uncomfortable coming to me with this, but
Olivia…I love you. You really can talk to me about anything, pumpkin. I would
never judge you."
She ducked her head and bit her lip hard enough to hurt. "I just didn't want
you to be disappointed in me."
"Disappointed in you? Baby, no. You didn't do anything wrong. I think I'll call
Mr. Presbolowski tomorrow and have a chat with him. He needs to know what that
little shit's been up to."
"Dad, please don't. It'll just make everything worse."
"Ollie—"
"I'm begging you. Don't. Mr. Collins got fired so fast because of the Flanarys'
influence with the school board. You really think Mr. Presbo's gonna do
anything to TJ?"
"Pardon my language, but this is some fucked up bullshit."
She huffed out a laugh. "Pardon mine, but no fucking shit."
He smiled a moment before his expression sobered. "So what was this fight
about? Someone say something rude?"
"Ahh…no. More the opposite. I said something rude to someone else."
"That doesn't sound like you," he said with an ironic tilt to his mouth.
"Hush," she said. She flicked her fingers. "I accused the wrong person of going
to Presbo about Mr. Collins. He was understandably angry, and things just got
worse from there."
"He? He who?" he said, frowning.
"Um. Juice Ortiz…?"
"Juice? You thought Juice—? Why would he do that?"
She grimaced. "He wouldn't. That's why I feel so crappy about it."
"Okay, fair enough. But why would you think it?"
"It's kind of complicated."
"Ollie," he said on an impatient sigh.
She squirmed. "We've sort of…I don't know. We kind of got off on the wrong foot
early on, and it's been kinda weird ever since. We keep trying to make up and
be friends, and somehow it always falls apart."
"Pumpkin, look at me."
She did, reluctantly.
"Does this have anything to do with…with the Christmas party? With my interest
in Ana?"
"It's Ana now?"
He gave her a look and she rolled her eyes.
"No, Dad. Juice and I have had issues since way before we had any idea you had
a crush on his mom."
"I don't have a crush—"
She held up a hand. "I don't need details. Really. Look, if you like Ms. Ortiz
that's fine. I don't have a problem with it, but I can't speak for Juice. To be
honest, we don't talk much."
"I thought you were friends. Don't you work together at TM? He takes metal and
auto shop too."
Her brows flicked upward. "You sure know a lot about him."
Now it was his turn to drop his chin. "Ana and I talk about our kids a lot," he
said.
"Hhmm. All of that's true, but it doesn't mean we're buddies. He's fine, I
guess, but he's sort of a pain in the butt."
"How so? Disrespectful?"
"Uh. Well, no, not really. Polite, actually."
"Okay. So…vulgar? Sexist? Racist?" He paused. "A Yankees fan? They are from New
York."
"Dad! Come on. No, nothing like that, though we haven't talked about baseball.
He's fine. Just kind of a pain. Like—I don't know. He just. I can't—it's just
like a thing. That he has. A quality, I guess."
He gave her the skeptical eye and tried to smother a smile. "A pain in the butt
quality?"
"Yeah. The inherent ability to get on every nerve I've ever had."
Now he couldn't contain his amused smirk. "Right. I've been there."
"Oh my God," she said, disgusted, "don't look at me like that."
"Like what, pumpkin?" he said, blinking innocently.
"You know like what. That I'm your dad and I'm so smart look."
"Well I am your dad and I am incredibly intelligent."
"Modest, too."
"Overrated." He tapped his finger against the back of her hand. "It's not like
you to give up on someone. His mom's a real nice lady. I can't imagine her
raising a jerk for a kid."
"I told you he's not a jerk. He gets along fine with everyone else. Just not
me."
"So he's a pain in the ass, you don't get along with him or really like him—but
you had a fight with him today that upset you so much you had to skip school?"
"I told you," she muttered. "It wasn't just that. That plus everything."
"Okay, sweetheart. Whatever you say."
"Dad, geez, give me a break."
"All right, all right. I'm sorry. Listen: can we agree no more cutting class?
If you need a break I understand. You've been under a lot of pressure lately,
and I know how important Mr. Collins was to you. But come talk to me, or maybe
Ms. Tully."
He said that with a healthy dose of irony: he knew exactly how she felt about
Ms. Tully and her overly enthusiastic efforts back in ninth grade.
"Maybe not Ms. Tully. But someone. Okay?"
She left the topic of Mr. Collins alone, but she managed a brief nod. "Yeah,
Dad. No more skipping. I promise."
"That's my girl," he said and squeezed her arm. "I'll leave you to your
homework."
"Dad?" she called as he stepped into the hall. He poked his head around the
doorjamb again and she smiled. "Thanks. You're the best, you know that?"
"I am. Handsome, too."
She snorted. "Go away."
"Going. Do your homework!"
"Doing."
"Man, I got this parenting thing down."
"Go away!"
The sound of laughter floated from down the hall and she shook her head. Her
smile died and she drummed her pencil against her math book. If he ever found
out about her and Ben he'd flip. Like, truly lose his shit.
Charming was a small town. They were always careful: she walked to his place
rather than drove. They were never seen out together. But someone was bound to
figure it out eventually, and she had no doubt word would get back to her
father.
She needed to end it. Soon.
Next week, maybe. He was going to his sister's in Portland this weekend, so
maybe after he got back…
But soon for sure.
===============================================================================
It was the Saturday after her big showdown with Juice, and Ben had been in
Portland since Thursday. She was restless and bored. She toyed with the idea of
trying to pick up a shift at TM, and just as she'd decided that she probably
would, her phone rang.
She checked the caller ID and grinned. "Hey, Ope," she said. "What's up? You as
bored as me?"
"Not really. I'm havin' a blast," he said with a laugh.
"Ohh. Well are you calling to rub it in, or invite me to come have a blast with
you?"
"Jax and me are playin' some 007. Wanna come hang out?"
"I thought I wasn't allowed to play that anymore after what happened last
time."
"Um." There was a pause while she heard him have a whispered conversation,
probably with Jax. She grinned and grabbed her keys.
"Come on over," he said. "I talked him into it."
"Tell him to quit bein' a baby and maybe I'll take it easy on him this time."
"Be nice, Ollie. Don't make him cry again."
She could hear Jax' outraged squawking though the phone, but she couldn't make
out what he was saying. She laughed. "Be there in ten. Need me to bring
anything?"
"Jax says Funyuns."
"Gross."
"Just bring the damn Funyuns, Gable."
"Aye aye, captain. Make it fifteen." She hung up and ran a brush through her
hair. She debated putting it up, but she decided it wasn't worth the effort.
Her jeans had a hole in the knee and her shirt—an old favorite—had somehow
become just a little too small since last summer. She rolled her eyes and threw
a flannel shirt over it, tugged on her Doc Martens, and was out the door.
One quick stop at 7-11 later and she pulled up in front of Opie's house and cut
the engine. Piney's bike wasn't in the driveway, but Jax' and Opie's were.
Juice's wasn't, which was a relief. She scooped up the plastic bags and hurried
to the porch.
Opie answered at her knock and she threw a bag at him. "Get these nasty things
away from me," she said.
"You're a peach, Ollie," he said with a grin. He dug in and let out a whoop.
"Fuckin' Sno-Balls, too."
"Who loves ya, baby?" she said.
"You bring me anything?" Jax said, scowling.
"Not a fuckin' thing, Teller."
She tossed him the other bag and he laughed as he pulled out another thing of
Funyuns and three Snickers bars. "Fuck yeah," he said.
"One of those is for Tara, so don't get greedy. Where is she anyway?"
"Said she had to finish homework," Opie said around a mouthful of junk food.
"It's Saturday."
Jax shrugged. "That's what I said. I guess she wanted to get it done early."
"So it's gonna be just the three of us? No one else to witness your
humiliation?" she said and plopped down on the couch next to Jax.
"Tara's gonna be by after the homework. Juice's at TM, and Donna's parents
won't let her come over here anymore," Opie said.
"Mmm," she said, a quiet noise of commiseration. "That sucks, bud."
"Can't believe we actually tracked you down today," Jax said. He cut his eyes
at her and she hitched a shoulder.
"I've been busy."
"Busy, or hiding?" said Opie.
"Hiding from what?"
"Dunno, Ollie. You tell us."
She glanced back and forth between the two of them. "Is this an intervention?"
"Ha," said Jax.
"Maybe a little," Opie said at the same time.
"Guys, I'm not on drugs."
"You're on somethin'," Jax said.
It was on the tip of her tongue to say really good sex just to see their
reaction, but she resisted the urge. Instead she made a face and picked up the
controller. "Could we just play, please? I'm not abusing any illegal
substances. Or legal ones, for that matter. I'm fine."
"So, what," Opie said as he sat down on her other side, "you're skippin' school
for shits and giggles? We can't find you because you're writin' sad poetry and
listenin' to fucking Alanis Morissette and Hole in your room all day?"
"Okay, first of all, there's nothing wrong with either Alanis
Morissette or Hole. Secondly, you two don't have any room to talk about
skipping school. You guys split the crown last year for Kings of Not Showing
Up. Remember?"
"Yeah," Jax said, drawing the syllable out. "But we didn't also hold the title
of Blowjob Queen."
Her mouth fell open. "You're fucking with me right now. That's not a real
thing."
Opie frowned and pulled something out of his book bag that leaned against the
arm of the sofa. He handed it to her and they watched her face transform. She
turned red. Then white. Then red again. Her mouth tightened before it curved
into a bemused smile.
"And here I thought I'd never amount to anything. I'm a fuckin' queen,
bitches!"
She wadded the pamphlet up and tossed it toward the trashcan in the corner. It
missed and she shrugged. "Not a queen of basketball, obviously. No wonder I
chose the football team."
"Olivia—"
"Don't," she said and shook her head. "There's no point. They're gonna say what
they're gonna say, and there's nothing I can do about it. It's fucked up, but
whatever."
"Mr. Collins got fired because of shit like this," Jax said.
"You think I don't know that? They fired him before they even talked to me. It
was a snow job, and fucking bullshit." She shook her head. "Luckily he's kind
of okay with it, I guess. He asked me not to start a petition or write to the
school board or anything."
Opie frowned. "When'd you talk to Mr. Collins?"
"Uh…I went by his house the day they told me. I thought I should apologize. Let
him know I didn't start anything."
"Ollie, you know if you want us to beat TJ Flanary's face in we'd be more than
happy to," Jax said.
"That won't help anything. The next rumor he starts could be—well. Honestly at
this point I'm not sure how much worse it could get for me, but I don't want
him to go after you guys."
"I'd like to see him try," Opie said.
"Let's just drop it, okay? I'm handling it. I already talked to my dad and told
him I wouldn't skip anymore. I haven't this week, have I?"
"Not since Tuesday," Jax admitted.
"You guys keep way too close track of me," she said.
"You're our friend, Ollie," Opie said, his voice quiet. "It's what we do."
She threw her arms over their shoulders. "My knights in darkened armor," she
said.
"Dark Knights, like fuckin' Batman," Jax said.
"Does that make one of you Robin?"
They shared a look. "I could handle bein' Nightwing," Opie said.
"That means I get Wayne Manor," said Jax.
"And Alfred," Olivia said.
Jax glowered. "Think I could get Alfred to do my fuckin' math homework?"
"I'll help you with it if you want. Or you could ask Ortiz. He's in Algebra III
with me."
"Eh," Jax said. "You smell better."
"I'm flattered, Jackson. It's so refreshing to receive a compliment from
someone who's not looking for a blowjob."
"Jax's always lookin' for a blowjob," Opie said. "Just not from you."
"Exactly," she said with a wry twist to her mouth.
"I really wanna stomp Flanary's head in," Jax said through gritted teeth.
"Get in line," she said. "Okay. Intervention over?" She waved the controller at
Jax. "You owe me a rematch."
He flipped through the menus to get the game going. "I still say you cheated
last time," he said.
"Yup. You got me. I replaced my hands with robot hands that know every secret
to Goldeneye. You didn't stand a chance."
"I was distracted," he grumbled.
"By me? My boobs? Then that's what you get for looking at boobs that aren't
attached to your girlfriend."
Opie hooted and she elbowed him. "Same goes for you, Winston. Eyes front."
"I've seen your boobs," he said with a shrug. "Not that great."
"Lies. My boobs are amazing."
"We need to stop talking about Ollie's boobs now," Jax said.
"Works for me," she said. "I've been objectified enough in the past month to
last me a lifetime, thanks."
Opie and Jax glanced at each other over her head. She tried to act cool, but
they'd both known her long enough to tell how disturbed she was by everything
that'd been going on. If she didn't want to talk about it, though, they weren't
gonna force her. This whole thing had been Tara's idea anyway, and Jax could've
told her it wouldn't work. Olivia was stubborn, and the line she'd taken on it
all was no big deal. He had no idea what it'd take to make her change her mind.
===============================================================================
"Best two out of three?" she said later.
Jax threw down the controller with a curse. "I swear to fuckin' God. You play
this game like once every three months. You're some sorta gaming prodigy."
"It's the hair," she said. "Gingers are soulless. Like robots. I'm basically a
robot."
"Explains a lot," Opie said.
"Your turn, Winston?" She dangled the controller by its cord and he grabbed for
it.
"Why not? Got nothin' to lose but my pride."
She took Jax' controller and pulled up a new game. There was the sound of a
motorcycle engine outside and she frowned toward the window. "Piney?" she said.
"Nah," said Opie. "Probably Juice. Dad's out doin' club shit all day."
"Oh. Damn. I just remembered—shit." She tossed the controller at Jax and
scrambled to her feet.
"What the fuck, Ollie?" Opie said. "Thought we were gonna play."
"Yeah, sorry. I forgot my dad wanted to hang out today."
"He won't get home till midnight," Jax said.
"Normally, yeah, but he switched with someone for first shift so we could go to
the movies. He'll be way disappointed if I bail on him."
The door behind her opened and Tara and Juice walked in. Olivia's shoulders
sagged a little. Looked like no clean getaway today.
"Look who I found lurkin' around outside," Tara said. "I had to drag him in."
Olivia's eyes met Juice's and his slid away.
"Hey, bitch," Tara said and hugged her. If she noticed the tension between
Olivia and Juice she didn't react to it.
"Hey, babe," she replied and kissed her cheek.
Opie and Jax hooted and clapped. Opie whistled through his fingers.
"Fuck yeah girl on girl!" Jax yelled.
It wasn't a new reaction, and Tara and Olivia had learned long ago to ignore
them.
"I was just on my way out," Olivia said.
"What? I just got here!"
"Sorry, I know. I told my dad we'd go to the movies, and I forgot."
"Your dad," Juice said, "or your daddy?"
Her mouth fell open. Color washed her face and she darted a glance at Jax and
Opie. "Ew," she said. "What even?"
"Just a question," he said with a shrug.
Jax had stood up to greet Tara, and now he gave Juice a look. "What the fuck,
dude?" he said.
"Oh," he said. "Wow, I guess she didn't tell you."
She shifted from one foot to the other. Her brow furrowed and she started to
reach for him before she changed her mind and let her hand fall to her side.
"Juice—"
"Ooo, Snickers!" Tara said, her voice overly-bright. "Is one of those for me?"
"Tell us what?" Opie said. "What's up, Ollie?"
"Nothing," she said, trying to laugh it off. "I think Juice's been listening a
little too hard to all the gossip around school, that's all."
"One rumor in particular," he said.
"Juice, come on," Tara said. "We all know it's bullshit. What's the point of
even bringing it up?"
He and Olivia watched each other across the room. She looked tense and ready to
run. He seemed relaxed, but she could tell it was feigned. He was furious.
Looking for a fight. Fuck it. She'd oblige him. She shook her hair back and
narrowed her eyes.
"Why don't you just say what you mean, Ortiz," she said, softly.
He laughed and ran a hand over his head. "I guess she forgot to tell you guys
she's fuckin' Mr. Collins. I mean, while you were all so busy bein' such good
buddies and all. But everybody's gotta have their secrets, right?"
Her mouth went hard and the blood drained out of her face to leave it stark
white. Tara grabbed her arm, but she shook her off.
"Get off it, man," Jax said. "That's just somethin' TJ made up because he knew
Collins was into Ollie's art and shit."
"Her art isn't all he's into," Juice said.
"Ollie, come on," Tara said and tugged her hand. "Let's just go. We can have
lunch or something. I'm starving."
She surged toward Juice despite Tara's efforts to hold her back. "No, Tara, I
think it's important that everyone know the truth, since Ortiz is so fuckin'
eager for them to hear it." She spun away and flung out her arms. "I'm fucking
Mr. Collins. I have been for the last three weeks. Now everybody knows it. You
feel better?" she said to Juice. "And since you're so goddamn curious, he's in
Portland this weekend visiting his sister."
"Huh," he said. "Guess that's why you were actually free for once."
She spun on him again. "You think you're real fucking cute, don't you? You get
some sort of thrill out of making me feel like shit about my life and my
choices? You've got no right to judge me. You don't even know me. You think you
give me a ride home and let me have a cry on your shoulder and suddenly we're
bosom buddies. Sorry, but it doesn't work like that. So fuck you, Ortiz. Fuck
you and your judgmental bullshit."
His jaw worked and his eyes were hot as he leaned down so that they were almost
nose to nose. "Sure, Liv," he said. "Let me just take a number."
She slapped him across the face hard enough to turn his head and leave a
crimson palm print across his cheek.
"Whoa, okay, that's enough," Jax said. He picked her up by the waist and lifted
her away from Juice. "Maybe you should leave, Ortiz," he said, his rough voice
hard.
"No," Olivia said. She shoved away from him. "No, that's fine. I was already on
my way out."
The door slammed behind her, and Tara whipped toward Juice with a furious
glare. "Well done," she said. "Well fucking done." She ran after Olivia with a
disgusted look that somehow included all three of them.
"Okay, what the fuck?" Opie said. "That was out of line, dude. Not cool at
all."
"Yeah," Juice said in a low voice. "That was messed up." He rubbed his cheek
with a grimace. "She shoulda hit me harder."
"You're goddamn lucky she didn't," Jax said. "And you're lucky I don't take a
swing, too. You got any idea of the shit that girl's goin' through right now?
She don't need an asshole like you makin' it worse!"
"Except you aren't actually an asshole," Opie said. "So you wanna explain what
that was about?"
He shrugged a shoulder and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Fuck if I know. We
got in this fight the other day and we both said some shit and she's just a
real pain in the ass."
"She's like that with everybody," Opie said. He sounded weary. "She's Ollie.
Bein' a pain in the ass has been her hobby since like first grade."
"She's real good at it," Juice said.
Jax shook his head. "You fucked up, man. We told you."
"Told me what?" he said and made a face.
"Look, with her you got two modes: pissed or about to get pissed. Since her mom
died you just can't.… She'll talk to Tara and it's all good, but everybody else
is better off kinda steerin' clear," Jax said.
"About important shit," said Opie. "She's fine if you're just hangin' out or
whatever. She's, ya know, like a pal. Don't try to think of her like a girl.
Otherwise you'll get your head all mixed up and she ends up slappin' you."
"And for fuck's sake don't let her fuckin' cry on you," Jax said. "That's like
buyin' a one-way ticket to Ollie's shit list."
"I don't get it," he said to Opie. "If she's such a pain, why the hell did you
go out with her?"
He let out a sigh. Scowled down at his boots and kicked a Funyun under the
couch. "She's kinda…" He trailed off and waved his hand in an annoyed gesture.
"I just thought…I just figured why not? Maybe I'd get lucky and she'd…relax a
little or whatever. And, I mean, I think she will. Eventually."
He snorted. "Seems like a lot of work to me."
"Fuck yeah," Jax said, "but you think Tara's a walk in the park? You gotta
decide what's worth it and what ain't. Ollie'll be worth it to somebody
someday, but in the meantime she's gotta deal with little shits like TJ
Flanary."
"And I guess Mr. C what the fuck?" Opie said.
Juice winced. "I guess everybody deals with bein' declared Blowjob Queen in
their own way."
"Just lay off her, man," Jax said. "Back off and let her be. She's gettin'
enough shit these days without gettin' it from her friends, too."
"I should tell her I'm sorry."
"Bad idea," Opie said. "At least for a while. Give her time to cool off first."
"He's right. You go after her now you got no chance."
"She'll fuck you up, man. And I don't mean she'll kick your ass."
"Okay, so, what?"
Opie and Jax looked at each other. Jax shrugged. "Play some Goldeneye. Eat some
Funyuns. Wait for her to come to you."
"Only chance you got," Opie said.
Juice slumped onto the couch and stuffed a Funyun into his mouth. "So you're
sayin' I'm fucked."
"Yup," Opie said.
"Can't get much more fucked," said Jax.
"Next time we tell you to stay away from a girl, just do it."
"Yeah," he said on a frustrated breath. "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind."
Chapter End Notes
     Like I said...worse before it gets better. They both just need to get
     over it.
     I'm about 1k words into ch16, so feel free to drop a line with your
     thoughts/opinions/whatever. Next chapter is a little...intense.
***** Everything to Everyone *****
Chapter Summary
     Olivia and Ben say goodbye, and Tara recruits Jax to her cause of
     getting Juice and Olivia together.
Chapter Notes
     I'm really ashamed of Juice's behavior in the last two chapters, and
     as a result he's in time out for this one. He needs to think about
     what he's done.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                              you do what you do 
                             you say what you say
                     you try to be everything to everyone 
                        you jump through the big hoops
                         you play all the right games
                     you try to be everything to everyone
                      Everclear, "Everything to Everyone"
Olivia and Ben lay twined together in his bed, both shirtless but still in
their jeans, and she giggled as he tickled her ribs. It had been a week since
the Portland trip, and he'd noticed an odd sadness in her, like something had
changed while he was gone. That's why he'd put off telling her…but he had to.
She'd be pissed if he waited any longer, and now that he had some definite news
he knew it was time.
He took a deep breath and kissed her just above her belly button. "I've got
some news."
"If it has anything to do with food I don't want to hear it," she said with a
little groan. He'd grilled steaks and corn on the cob, and she was so stuffed
she could barely move. It's why they were being so lazy now.
He patted her food belly and grinned. "Not about food, I promise."
"Okay," she said. "Hit me."
He ran a thumb over her nipple. She wiggled. "I told you I went to Portland to
visit my sister."
She cut her eyes toward him at his wary tone. "Uh huh."
"That was true, but it wasn't the only reason."
"Uh huh…?" she said again.
He sighed. "My ex-girlfriend from college works at this big gallery up there,
and she got me a job interview."
"Oh!" she said at interview, then "Ohh…" as ex-girlfriend registered.
"Nothing happened. We had lunch before the interview and then I saw her again
briefly after. It was no big deal."
"You're an adult, Ben. If you wanted to hook up with your ex I'm not going to
judge you for it." She paused. "I wish you'd told me before we had sex again,
though. I don't usually do the multiple partners thing. But, I mean. Condoms."
"I didn't hook up with her, Olivia," he said and made a face. "You really don't
care?"
She turned toward him and brushed his hair off his forehead. "Of course I care.
But it's not like we're a couple. No one ever said this was exclusive."
"Yeah," he said. "Right, yeah."
His tone and his expression worried her. She drew in a deep breath and changed
the subject. "So since I know there aren't any raunchy sex stories, tell me how
the interview went."
It surprised him into a laugh. "It went really well, actually." He hesitated.
"They offered me a job."
"Holy shit! That's awesome! Would you be curating or…?"
"Acquiring."
"Even cooler. That's like your dream job, isn't it?"
"Yeah, sort of. I mean, in a bigger place than a local gallery in Portland,
Oregon—but it's a start."
She kissed him hard. "That's so awesome, babe. When do you start?"
"Um." He was a little taken aback by her enthusiasm. "Um. Next Monday."
Her eyes widened. "Next…? But that's like a week."
"Yeah. I guess I'm leaving…Saturday…?"
"Oh." She fell back. She had no idea how she felt about this. She was happy for
him, genuinely thrilled, but…so soon? "Wow," she said.
"Yeah. I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner, but I—"
"No, it's okay. Kinda glad you waited, really."
He waited her out as a mix of emotions passed over her face. Finally he said,
"You okay?"
"Working on it."
"Portland's not that far. And there's the phone and email and shit like that."
Her mouth curved. "We do have fun on the phone," she said.
He laughed. "What can I say? I love hearing you come."
"Me too," she said with a distracted smile. She turned toward him again and ran
a hand down his chest. "You know…this is probably a good thing. I mean, above
and beyond your career, which is obviously great. But I mean a good thing for
you and me."
"Oh? How so?"
"It's a chance for a clean break. We both know we're just spending time. You're
twenty-six and I'm seventeen and still in high school. There's nothing here for
us. I'd rather you just go and it be over than things linger on. And if you
were still in Charming…it'd be a lot harder. A lot."
His brows drew together and he looked away. "So you're saying no phone or email
or shit like that."
She lifted her fingers in a shrug. "As much as I love our phone conversations
and your incredibly sexy emails, yeah. That's what I'm saying."
"Ah," he said. "No, you're right. A clean break is better."
"Right. You'll have a new job in a new city. It'll be chance for you to start
over. Meet someone your age who you can maybe have a future with."
He traced a pattern on her upper arm. "And you can find someone your age and
have a normal relationship for once."
Her nose scrunched. "That shit's overrated."
"Says the girl who's never been in love."
"Ugh. Don't start."
"Sorry, sorry," he said with a laugh. He pulled her in for a long kiss, and
when it broke her grin was mischievous.
"Five days, you say?"
"Yup."
Her hand drifted to the button on his jeans. "We better get started."
"God I love the way you think," he said as he rolled over on top of her.
===============================================================================
On the fifth day when she knocked on his door he opened it and hauled her
inside without a word. Spun her around and pushed her against it and before she
could even take a breath his hands were all over her. His mouth was on the back
of her neck, and he barely skimmed her taut nipples before he unzipped her
jeans and shoved them down around her knees.
She pressed into him eagerly, and when his fingers brushed her slit he found
her slick and dripping.
"You get started without me, baby?" he murmured.
"Maybe. A little. I couldn't wait."
"I can't either," he said and sucked on her earlobe. He rucked her t-shirt up
above her breasts and massaged them through her bra. She moaned as he wasted no
time and went straight for her clit, swirling around it again and again before
he dipped into her and circled it again.
"Yes! More!" she gasped. "Please, more!"
He pressed his thumb against the sensitive nub and thrust his fingers inside.
She rocked her hips on his hand; he massaged her G-spot; and before either of
them knew it she was coming, crying out his name and writhing as he pumped her.
He bit her shoulder and pulled away. She let out a whimper, but he soothed her
with a soft kiss. She heard the grate of zipper and rustle of fabric, then the
rip of a condom wrapper. Soon the tip of his cock was nudging her entrance, and
when she whispered a sharp yes he shoved into her hard enough to make them both
cry out.
He pinned her wrists above her head with one hand while the other plunged
between her legs to play with her clit. He wasn't gentle. She begged for more.
His voice was a hot rasp in her ear as he breathed: "So fucking sweet, baby,
goddamn could fuck you all day. Gonna miss your hot wet cunt so much. Gonna
miss fuckin' you till you scream and eatin' your sweet pussy for hours."
The dirtier he got the louder she moaned, and he got downright filthy. She
freed a hand and tangled her fingers in his hair, hauling him closer and
craning her neck to cut off his litany with a searing kiss.
"Yes fuck, Ben, that's so good! Harder!"
"Fuck, baby," he groaned. "Can't—!"
He bit the side of her neck and sucked, and that sent her over the edge. She
came again, a mind-numbing explosion, and the feel of her clenching around him
was too much. His own orgasm crashed through him, and he held her upright as
they came together. It seemed to last forever, shudder after shudder and spasm
after spasm, and when they finally came down from it they were trembling and
winded.
He licked sweat off her neck and stumbled away to get rid of the condom. When
he got back she'd managed to turn around, but she still slumped against the
door. Her face was stunned, her mouth swollen, and he grinned when he saw her.
"Still with me?" he said, though he sounded pretty dazed himself.
She gave a drunken nod and he laughed. "Come on," he said. He pulled her jeans
up, and when she tried to take a step she grabbed his arm.
"I think you broke my legs," she said.
He swooped her up and carried her to the bedroom. "Good thing you're small," he
said as he set her down. "I'm not exactly the Brawny man."
"Perfect just like you are," she murmured with a smile.
He stripped off her clothes piece by piece, lingering over every inch of skin
he exposed with soft kisses and teasing licks. She'd thought herself spent and
wrung out, but by the time they were both naked in his bed she was wet and
aching. She guided his hand between her legs, and he fingered her to a sweet,
easy peak as they kissed and whispered.
As her last shudders faded she saw he was hard again. She rolled on a condom,
straddled his hips, and…
It went on like that for hours. They barely spoke beyond murmured words of
encouragement and sharp moans of lust. Finally, exhausted and utterly sated,
they fell against each other in a tangled, sweating heap, and before she
realized it she had fallen asleep in the circle of his arms.
===============================================================================
She could swear she heard birds. That wasn't possible. It was the middle of the
night—or at least the middle of the very early morning. She opened her eyes and
they flew wide. It was light outside. Gray and weak, but light. Saturday
morning. It was Saturday morning what the fuck had happened to Friday night?
"Holy shit. Oh goddamn." She looked at the clock and almost screamed. "Fuck
fuck fuck I'm so fucked!"
Ben roused at the sound of her distress, and his face was fuzzy and sleep-
dazed. "Ollie, wha…?"
"It's almost seven! If I don't get home before my dad wakes up I'm dead.
Grounded till I'm eighty and bye-bye Cougar and fuck!"
She pushed herself out of bed, but she was stiff and sore, and she fell back
with a hiss. It had been a long night.
"Whoa, hang on." He sat up slowly. "Jesus Christ, I feel eighty."
"With you there, sugar," she said on a laugh. She tried again, and this time
she made it far enough to dig up her panties.
"Ollie, wait. Come on. It's Saturday. Doesn't he sleep in on Saturdays?"
She frowned and searched for her bra. "Yeah, usually. Till eleven or so."
"Okay, then we have some time. At least take a shower before you go. It'll
help."
She glanced up at him and her mouth curved. "A shower, huh?"
"And some breakfast. If push comes to shove, tell him you were at Tara's last
night. Say you fell asleep and didn't want her to have to drive you home so
late."
"Hhmm." She crawled toward him and rested her arms on his shoulders. He gripped
her waist and pulled her onto his lap. "You're an awfully bad influence, Mr.
Collins."
"Don't call me that," he said as he kissed her neck.
"Call you what? Mr. Collins?" He bit her and she giggled. "Ooo, Mr. Collins,
that's nice," she said in a breathy coo.
"Olivia!"
It wasn't a game they ever played, ever: she wasn't into the whole schoolgirl
thing, and he still wasn't quite over the fact that he was fucking a former
student. But after last night she felt like nothing was off the table, and
despite his protests she could feel him hard and hot against her thigh.
"Fuck me, Mr. Collins," she whispered in his ear, low and wicked. "I want your
big hard cock in me, Mr. Collins. I've been a bad, bad girl, and I—"
"You. Stop it." But he was laughing as he said it, laughing and half-moaning,
and when she slid off his lap he groaned in protest.
"You promised me a shower," she said over her shoulder as she sauntered away.
"I certainly did," he said and chased after her.
Later they sat across his kitchen table from each other, neither saying much.
He'd made omelets, but they didn't really feel like eating and the food grew
cold on their plates. She pushed egg around with her fork and he pretended to
drink his tea.
Finally, "Ollie—"
"Don't, Ben."
"Don't what?"
"Say whatever it is you're about to say." She stood up and came around the
table. Leaned down to take his face in her hands and kiss him long and slow.
"It's been a crazy month, baby. Let's not fuck it up now by saying things we
regret."
He leaned back with an amused snort. "You're an amazing woman, Olivia Gable."
"True. Glad to see you realize it." She grinned and brushed her mouth over his
again. Straightened and held out a hand. "Come on, handsome. Walk me to the
door and kiss me goodbye."
He stopped her as she reached for the knob and tugged her back. She smiled up
at him and they kissed until the heat started to build again.
"Mmm," she said, a regretful murmur, "I have to go."
"I know." He ran a hand through her coppery hair. "Gonna miss you, Ollie."
"I'll miss you too." She looked away. "What time are you leaving?"
"Just have to throw a few more things in my bag and I'll be gone."
Good. She wouldn't have a chance to come back. She'd walk out the door and he'd
get in that U-Haul and it'd be done. Clean break.
"I'll email you my number as soon as I know it."
She frowned. He sighed.
"Olivia, gimme a break, okay? It's just a phone number. You don't ever have to
use it. I want you to have it in case you need it. You can call me anytime, for
anything. You need a place to crash or a sounding board or you've got a flat
tire. Anything."
Her mouth curved. "Ten hours is a long drive to change a tire."
"I drive fast."
"In that piece of shit?"
It was an old joke between them, but he didn't laugh this time. Neither did
she. Her face went still and their eyes met. She swallowed.
"Fuck," he breathed. "Olivia, I—"
"I know," she said, desperate to shut him up.
"Goddammit, why won't you let me say it?"
"Because I can't say it back and it's not fair."
"Can't, or won't?" he ground out.
"Both. I was clear from day one, Ben. Don't look at me like I just kicked your
dog."
He let out a hard sigh and pulled her against him. "You're gonna change your
mind about all that one day, Ollie. Then you'll feel like someone
kicked your dog."
"Sounds wonderful," she said, dryly.
"You'll be fine. You always land on your feet."
The way he said it caused a funny twinge in her stomach, because she wasn't
sure he meant it as a good thing. She pulled away. "I should go." She brushed
his hair off his forehead and grinned. "Take Portland by storm, Ben Collins. I
see big things for you in Rose City."
"I always did like roses." He knew she didn't, and he said it just to see the
look on her face. He kissed the tip of her scrunched nose. "Get out of
Charming, Ollie. Don't let this place suck you in. Don't get involved with one
of those bikers you hang around with and get stuck here. You've got too much
potential to waste in this place."
"Don't worry, kid. I've got a ticket on the next train outta town."
"Nah, babe, that's me."
"Oh yeah. I knew it was one of us." She opened the door before she could change
her mind. "Take care of yourself, Benjamin. Who knows? Maybe we'll run into
each other somewhere down the road."
"Maybe so," he said.
She smiled, kissed him, and walked away. Just like that. She didn't look back,
and he watched her until she rounded the corner at the end of the block. He
shut the door with a sad little frown and thought, much to his deep and
profound regret, that he'd never see her again.
===============================================================================
Tara kissed Jax' chest and grinned at him. "So. Not bad, right?"
Tara's dad was off God-only-knew-where, and they'd had the house to themselves
the whole night. She was taking fullest advantage of it. They were in her bed,
and apparently she'd just blown his mind.
"Holy. Shit." He sounded stunned, and his blue eyes were wide and amazed.
She giggled. "I'll take that as a yes."
"Where did you learn—? Okay, never mind. I don't want to know. Just tell me you
aren't fuckin' a teacher, too."
"Jax, come on," she said with a frown. "Don't give her shit about it."
He shrugged. "I'm not. Have I given her shit? The only one doin' that is
Juice."
Tara rolled her eyes and flipped onto her back. "I don't know what's gotten
into him. She acts like she doesn't give a damn, but he really hurt her
feelings last week."
"Ope and me told him to steer clear. He shoulda listened. Now he's fucked.
There're some girls, man. They just get under your skin."
"Hhmm." She flashed a wicked grin and straddled his hips. Leaned down to kiss
him long and slow. "Am I under your skin, Teller?"
"You know it, baby. You're in so deep I ain't never gettin' you out."
She laughed. "Now there's an idea."
Their kisses turned hotter. His hands were everywhere and she moaned at the
feel of him between her legs. He rolled over so that he was above her, and just
as his mouth found her breast the doorbell rang.
"Jesus fuck," he said. "Who the hell?"
It went again, three more times in hard succession, and Tara sat up in alarm.
"Shit," she said. She jumped out of bed and tugged on shorts and a t-shirt.
Tossed him his pants.
"Get dressed."
"What's goin' on?" he said, confused and frustrated.
"It's Ollie," she said.
"What the fuck is Ollie doin' here this early?"
"Jax!" she said. "Today was the day! Portland day."
"Oh." His brow furrowed. "Oh shit."
She made an impatient gesture and left him there to figure out his clothes.
When she opened the front door Olivia fell inside, and Tara caught her. Her
eyes were red and swollen, and she was breathing hard.
"Did you run here?" Tara said.
"Car's at home," she gasped.
"Ollie, Jesus, come on." She dragged her to the sofa and sat down with her.
"Try to breathe, babe. Come on. You can do it."
"I'm so stupid, Tara, so fucking stupid. What was I thinking?"
"That he'd be a great lay?" she said with a shrug.
Olivia glared at her a second, but then it dissolved into a helpless laugh.
"What a fucking mess."
"Olivia—look, I know it's not really your scene, and I know what your answer's
gonna be, but maybe think about it for a second and be honest. Did you fall for
him?"
Her forehead creased and Tara could tell she was weighing it. Finally, after
long, intense consideration, she shook her head. "No. Not like that. He's
fantastic, and I really like him—but, I mean, if after last night I can't say
it, then no. It's just not there for me."
"How does he feel?" Tara said, quietly.
"Not the same as me."
"Guess it's good he's going to Portland, then."
"Yeah. Way good." She buried her face in her hands, but her eyes were dry now,
her tears all spent. "Is there something wrong with me, Tara?" she said, her
voice muffled. "Something missing? I know he's nine years older and it's
incredibly inappropriate, but you'd think if I were ever gonna fall in love,
it'd be with him. We had an amazing time, all the time. We didn't fight. We
didn't piss each other off. It was just fun. Easy!"
"Sounds boring as fuck to me," Jax said from the doorway.
Olivia's eyes went huge, and she shot Tara a panicked look.
"I told you to stay in the bedroom," she said.
"No you didn't. You told me to get dressed, which I did."
He'd put on pants that hung low on his hips, but he hadn't bothered with a
shirt, and Olivia had to take a minute to appreciate the view. He was her
friend, and she wasn't interested in him like that, but she had eyes.
She made a face at him once she'd looked her fill. "Isn't that what it's
supposed to be like? Good times and hot sex?"
"Well yeah," he said with a shrug. He leaned against the wall and shoved his
hands in his pockets. "But it can't be like that all the time. You gotta butt
heads every now and then. Otherwise what's the point?"
"He's right," Tara said. She shrugged at Olivia's expression. "We argue about
things we care about, right? So if you never argue about anything, either
you're lying, or you don't give a fuck."
"Or both," said Jax.
"Or both," Tara echoed in agreement. "I mean, it was only a little over a
month, and from the sound of things it was mostly sex—but you can't have sex
all the time, Ollie. Eventually you have to have a conversation."
"We did—"
"I know you did. But enough to really understand each other? To really see? He
thinks he's in love with you, but come on. He's nine years older. Are you sure
he isn't just in love with an idea? The pretty redhead who seduced him with her
wicked ways and her abstract sculptures."
Her mouth twisted as she considered. It made sense. She liked him, but she felt
like there was a wall between them. She didn't know if he'd built it or she
had, but with it there there was no way she could really know him. And how can
you love somebody you don't know?
"You're a pain in the ass, Ollie," Jax said. "I love you, but it's fuckin'
true. There's no way in hell you're gonna be happy with some dude who agrees
with everything you say and never fights with you. That's like the anti-Ollie."
"God you make me sound dysfunctional as fuck."
"Nah," Tara said with a grin. "Just passionate. About, like…everything."
"You gotta have somebody who's a challenge. Ope's awesome, but he ain't that.
TJ was just a dick. And Mr. Collins was…shit, I don't know. I don't pretend to
understand how any of you think," he said with a vague gesture in their
direction.
"A great lay," Tara said.
"He certainly was that," Olivia agreed, wistfully.
"I don't need to know that," Jax said.
"Then butt out, Teller! Nobody asked you anyway!" she said, but there was no
heat in it, and he burst out with a low, rolling laugh.
"See? That's you, Ollie. Pain in the ass till the day you die."
She grimaced. "Maybe I just need to mellow out a little."
"No way," Tara said. "You just gotta find somebody who smoothes out your rough
bits. That's how it works: you don't complete each other like fuckin' Jerry
Maguire, you just…fit."
Her gaze darted between Tara and Jax. That was as good an explanation as she'd
heard for why they stayed together despite how stormy things sometimes got
between them. They did fit, and as well as any two people she'd ever seen. You
could see it even when they fought. It was part of how she'd known things
weren't going to ever work out with Opie, as much as she adored him.
There was really only one person who fit their description, and she currently
wasn't speaking to him. She also had literally zero interest in ever going out
with him or even trying to work things out. He'd made himself perfectly clear,
and she was too exhausted to bother trying again. Besides, she was only
seventeen. She'd barely been outside Northern California. There were plenty of
people out there, and any one of them would be a better pick than—
Hell, she wasn't sure why his name had even crossed her mind.
Tara and Jax exchanged a look. Jax lifted a brow and Tara gave a tiny shrug. He
scowled and shook his head. She glared at him. He pulled a face. Finally he
threw his hands up and stomped out, and she watched him go with a grin.
She loved it when he was so cooperative.
"Come on," she said to Olivia. "Let me take you home. We'll tell your dad you
crashed here last night." She eyed her. "I'm assuming you didn't make it home,
considering that's what you had on last time I saw you."
"Like I said. If I can't say it after last night, it ain't gonna happen."
Tara nodded and helped her up. She'd gone stiff again after her run, and they
paced back and forth across the living room a bit, Tara supporting her when she
faltered. "You gotta be more careful, Ollie. You know you're supposed to take
it easy on that leg, not run halfway across town after a night of marathon
sex."
"Jesus Christ," Jax muttered. He'd chosen the wrong time to reappear.
"Nobody's talkin' to you, Jackson," Olivia said.
"Good goddamn thing, because that's the last image I need in my head."
"Go take a shower, babe. We'll be back soon." She paused and their eyes met.
Her brows raised in a question, and he gave a quick nod. She smiled and blew
him a kiss.
Tara knew her best friend well enough to know she would never, ever approach
Juice again after what happened last week. She was fed up and pissed off, not
to mention genuinely hurt by what he'd said. Juice was looking for an excuse to
apologize, and now Jax had hopefully given him one.
Obviously it would take some time for Olivia to get Mr. C out of her system,
but once she did Tara hoped she'd finally be able to see what'd been right
under her nose since the day he'd come to Charming: Juice Ortiz was perfect for
her, and it was only her own stubbornness that kept her from seeing it.
Chapter End Notes
     Well that takes care of Mr. C. Now let's see if these two wacky kids
     can quit being so damn stubborn and admit how they feel.
     lol yeah right are you new here?
     Um, if you are new hi! Welcome!
     I just finished ch16, and I sort of. I mean, I know basically what's
     going to happen, but not really...ugh. Anyway, I'm a lil frustrated
     and could use some kind words. :)
***** The Best Thing *****
Chapter Summary
     Juice tries to apologize to Olivia, but she's having none of it.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                                pale winter sun
                             is beatin' the ground
                             why'm i throwin' away
                        the best thing that i've found?
                   my young heart's in tatters and i'm sure
                      that it will be a long time healing
                  it's so hard to see what i'm doing this for
                    when loneliness is all that i'm feeling
                         David Gray, "Gathering Dust"
Jax and Opie had told him to wait for Olivia to come to him, but it'd been two
weeks and he'd gotten nothing from her. She ignored him in class. Didn't look
at him when they passed in the hall. Was cordial but cold at work, and her icy
politeness could cut glass.
So when Jax had called him Saturday and told him to forget what they'd said
before and give it a shot, he was kinda shocked. He didn't know what had
changed, and when he asked Jax had mumbled something about Mr. C and Portland,
then he'd hung up the phone.
Juice was left confused and disconcerted. He would feel better if he
apologized, but he wasn't sure she wanted to hear it. It was Tuesday, shop day,
and ever since their fight in her car—three weeks ago today—he'd been avoiding
the shop during his free period.
He thought maybe he'd been a coward long enough. He'd been a genuine shit to
her, maybe as rude as he'd ever been to anyone in his life, and he owed her a
fucking apology. If she wanted to chew him up and spit him out that was her
prerogative. He deserved it.
He took a deep breath and pushed through the shop door. For a minute he didn't
see her; she wasn't at the welding torch. Then she appeared from around a
corner, and when she saw him she went still.
"Oh," she said. "Wasn't sure you had the balls to show your face around here
anymore."
His brow creased. "You think we could talk?"
"We could try. You think you can have an entire conversation with me without
throwing out a cheap insult?"
He opened his mouth. Closed it again and looked away. "I guess that's fair."
"Dammit," she muttered. She really couldn't deal if he was going to be nice.
She jerked her head toward the break room. "Not out here."
He followed her and she locked the door behind them. She crossed her arms over
her chest and lifted her chin. "Let's hear it."
He faltered at the fury in her eyes. Maybe Jax and Opie had been right the
first time and he should've waited for her. Except he had a feeling she never
would've come to him, and there was some weird, masochistic part of him that
knew he'd regret it if he didn't at least try to make things right.
He cleared his throat and dove in. "I got no excuse for what I said, either in
the car or at Opie's. It was fucked up, and I know it hurt your feelings."
"My feelings?" She made a face. "Get over yourself, Ortiz. You've got
absolutely zero effect on my goddamn feelings."
"Would you just stop?" he said. "You don't gotta play tough, Olivia. You don't
have to treat me like you do everybody else."
Her eyes narrowed and she stepped closer. "What makes you so special?"
He ducked his head. "Nothing. I mean—I just mean—I didn't mean what I said,
Liv. I don't—I'm not judging you for the thing with Mr. C."
She swallowed and looked away. "You did a pretty good impression of it."
"I know. All I can say is I'm sorry. And I am sorry, Olivia."
"I just don't get why. You were so nice to me that night you drove me home, and
then at Christmas—" She cut herself off. "But then suddenly you turn into
fucking über-jerk. Did you have some sort of personality transplant?"
He gave a restless shrug. "I don't know. When you told me about Mr. C it's
like…my brain just shut down. I couldn't think straight, and I…I guess I just
said the first stupid, mean thing that came into my head."
"Yeah, it's kind of disconcerting when your illusions about a girl's sacred
purity are so brutally shattered."
"Liv, come on. I don't care about that shit. If there was a rumor a guy had
fucked the entire girls' soccer team he'd be a stud, but if it's about a girl
and the football team she's a slut. That's bullshit. I told you I don't care
who you have sex with, and I meant it."
"So what am I supposed to do, Ortiz? Fall all over myself praising you because
you're a decent human being? This's all real lowest common denominator stuff
here."
"For fuck's sake, Olivia! What the hell does a person have to do to get a break
with you? I'm sorry. I was an asshole. If fucking Mr. C made you happy, then
more power to you." He paused. Closed the gap between them and glared down at
her. "Except I don't think it did make you happy. I think it made you more
miserable than you were before."
"Fuck you. You don't know me."
"So you keep saying. But the truth is I know way more than you think. I know
how scared you are, Olivia. I know that letting anyone close terrifies the fuck
outta you, and that's why you chose Mr. Collins for your weird-ass rebellion.
He was safe because it was such a monumentally stupid decision."
"What happened to not judging me? I see that lasted all of thirty seconds," she
said, but her voice shook and he knew he'd hit a nerve.
"I'm not. I'm telling you I understand," he said through gritted teeth.
"Do you?" she murmured. Her eyes traced his face. "You understand what it's
like to be branded the school slut and have everybody talk about you all the
time? You get how it is when every guy sees you as a target? When they think
they can say literally any dirty, disgusting thought that pops into their porn-
addled heads? It's open season on Olivia Gable at SanWa South, because she's so
easy she's givin' it away. Come one, come all, and don't forget to grab her ass
or her tits while you're here."
He scowled. "Of course I don't. Not exactly. But I know what it's like to be
afraid. To put on a front and make everybody think you're cool when you
actually kinda want to…I don't know. Just get on your bike and keep drivin'
till you run outta gas and never look the fuck back."
"We're in high school, Juice. Literally everyone in this building feels that
way."
"Olivia." He dropped his backpack on the floor at his feet. "I don't want to
grab your ass or your tits."
"That's probably a good thing. I don't think Dana wants you grabbing my ass or
my tits, either."
"I broke up with Dana."
She lifted a brow. "Did you? I hadn't heard."
He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. She was
relieved by the space it created between them, but she tried not to show it.
"Turns out she's the one who went to Presbo about you and Mr. Collins."
Olivia's jaw fell open. "You're kidding."
"Nope. After you told me what she said to you that day, I got to thinkin' about
it. I asked her, and she admitted it. She said she told TJ, mostly as a joke,
that you and Mr. C had a thing, and TJ flipped out. I guess he convinced her
it'd be funny if she told Presbo."
"She really didn't think she was setting him up to get fired?"
"I don't know, man," he said with a shrug. "She probably did, but whatever.
Doesn't matter anyway. I didn't realize she was that petty. And, besides, I
don't really have any interest in someone who thinks TJ Flanary's anything but
pond scum."
There was a quiet moment while she studied him. "I shouldn't have accused you
of that."
"I'd never—" He broke off and snorted out a laugh. "Sounds stupid, I guess,
considering I told everybody about you and Mr. C, but I'd never rat you out.
Her face twisted. "You did, though. You told everybody. I don't care if the
school thinks that because they don't matter, and while I get sick of all the
whispers and the snide comments it's just noise. But Opie and Jax?" She raised
her hands, palms up and fingers spread. "It's not that I'm ashamed; not
exactly; it's just…"
"Private. I get it."
She pressed her forehead against the heel of her hand. "You vex me, Ortiz. You
have since the beginning. I want you out of my head. I want to stop thinking
about that fucking kiss. I want to stop caring what you think about me."
"Huh," he said. "If you figure out how, let me know. I'm havin' the same
problems with you."
She gripped his jacket with both hands, whether to pull him closer or push him
away she wasn't sure. Dropped her chin so that her forehead rested against his
chest. She stood like that for a long time, and he wondered if she could feel
how hard his heart thudded against his ribs.
"So what the fuck do we do?" she said at last.
"Damn if I know," he said. He raised a tentative hand to touch her hair. He let
out a short laugh. "Maybe we should just have sex and see if that gets it out
of our system."
She pulled back with a frown.
"I was kidding," he said.
"I get that." She tilted her head in a shrug. "It's not a bad idea, though."
"Olivia, I was kidding."
"Right," she said. Her mouth twisted in a bitter moue. "Wouldn't wanna be
caught fucking the Blowjob Queen. Except, you know, in your case it'd probably
only enhance your reputation: three months, three girls. That Juice Ortiz sure
does work fast."
He had to laugh at the irony of it. "I was a virgin when I came here."
She blinked. "Seriously?"
"Seriously," he said with a sheepish smile. "And I wasn't in juvie, either. I
was a geek in Queens. Like, got beat up almost every day. I figured when I came
out here I could start over."
"Sounds nice."
"Yep. Except I guess I kinda forgot that while, yeah, I was a loser, at least I
wasn't a total dick. Old me never woulda said those things to you, and I don't
really like that new me is someone who would."
"A loser, huh?" she said, quietly.
"Totally."
She pressed her lips to the corner of his jaw, and when she spoke again her
tone was inscrutable. "I don't know, Ortiz. You might be a lot of things, but
somehow loser isn't what comes to mind."
She smiled a little, spun away, and stopped at the door on her way out. "You
see that Juice Ortiz around, have him gimme a call. I think I might like to
meet him."
The door shut with a muffled thump and he gaped after her. Did that—did that
mean she'd forgiven him? Or not? Should he try to talk to her next time he saw
her, or let her come to him? He sagged against the table and shook his head.
He felt more confused and clueless than when he'd started, and that was pretty
fuckin' impressive. He'd never in his life met someone who mixed him up like
she did, and he didn't understand why he liked it so much. Shouldn't he be
pissed? Shouldn't he be getting fed up with trying to figure her out?
Maybe. Probably. But somehow he doubted he'd get bored of the puzzle that was
Olivia Gable for a long, long time.
===============================================================================
There'd been a recent uptick in business at Teller-Morrow, and all the new
customers were high school kids. Not just SanWa South, but North, too. Everyone
had noticed, but no one more so than Olivia.
They were here to see her. Like she was an exhibit at the zoo.
She clenched her jaw and gritted her teeth and smiled her sweetest, most
dangerous smile through all the catcalls and comments. When one of the guys was
around it wasn't as bad: no one really wanted to tangle with anyone from
SAMCRO, so one quelling glare from Tig or Chibs and they shut right up; but
when it was just her it got downright messy. Gemma had sent her home Saturday
when she'd almost punched a senior from SanWa North, but (to her credit) she
also made him leave and pay for the labor they'd already done on his car.
Now it was the following Wednesday, two weeks since Juice's attempt at an
apology, and she missed Ben more than she ever thought she would. It had been
nice to escape to his place, away from school and everything to do with it. The
sex was great, obviously, and she could really use a few stress-relieving
orgasms—but she missed more than that. She missed talking to him. These days
she kept to herself a lot, avoiding even her friends, because honestly she just
wasn't up to the effort of faking it.
She'd never had to fake it with Ben, in any situation.
Tara was worried about her, she knew, but she'd been dodging her calls and
avoiding logging online. She just felt tired. Too tired to talk about how tired
she was.
It had been a long afternoon, but finally it was closing time. Bobby had been
helping her, but she'd sent him on. She needed some quiet, and very little
soothed her as much as setting the garage to rights. Everything in its place.
Every surface gleaming. It wasn't an easy thing to accomplish in a garage, but
she took personal pride in it.
She was reorganizing one of the tool chests when a noise startled her into
dropping the wrench she held. She spun around, brandishing a different one
she'd grabbed from the drawer, and stopped short when she saw Juice.
"Holy shit!" he said. "You gonna brain me with that thing?"
"The thought crossed my mind," she said. She put it on the table and rolled her
eyes. "You scared the shit outta me. Where'd you come from?"
"The office," he said with a gesture over his shoulder and a weird look. "Gemma
sent me in here to see if you needed help."
"Oh." She tossed her braid behind her and frowned a little. "I'm good. Thanks,
though."
"You dropped something."
She glanced down with a scowl. Knelt to retrieve it at the same time he did,
and as they both reached for it his hand closed over hers. They froze. Neither
of them looked away from their linked hands, and after a moment she let out an
awkward laugh.
"If you wanted to hold my hand, Ortiz, you just had to ask."
"I was afraid you'd hit me with a wrench."
Her mouth quirked. Their eyes flicked up and locked. She sucked her lower lip
into her mouth to bite on it a little. He flinched.
"Don't do that," he said.
"Do what?" she said, genuinely confused.
"Your lip. When you—it makes me—"
"Makes you…?"
"Wish I were the one sucking on it," he said in a rush.
She chuckled, grabbed the wrench, and straightened. "I'm not responsible for
your inability to control your libido, Ortiz."
He sat back on his ass and draped his arms over his bent knees. "That's not
exactly what I meant."
"No?" she said. She stashed the tools and lowered herself to sit opposite him.
The concrete floor was hard and cold, but she didn't like what it did
to her libido to look down on him like that. "So what did you mean?"
"You know how much you frustrate me, right?"
"Is that my fault? I never asked you to be interested enough to be frustrated."
He snorted. "You sure as fuck didn't."
Her nose scrunched and she looked away. "I told you before…the other week…I
told you how you mix me up. So I guess I kind of know how you feel."
"You also said I didn't have any effect on your feelings."
"Yeah, well, sometimes I lie."
"Me too," he said, quietly.
She tilted her chin toward him and he shrugged.
"I fucked up, Liv. I know I did. You got all this shit, all these people
treatin' you bad, and then I—" He lifted his hands. "I think about you every
day. Things I could say or do to make it up, and there's just nothin'."
She crossed her legs and shifted her weight a little. "There's nothing to do,
Juice. I mean—you can't make it up. It doesn't work like that."
"Huh," he said. "So we're just gonna ignore each other forever?"
"I hope not," she said, her mouth moving in a little smile. Her brow creased
and she reached over to poke his knee. "If you want to make things better
between us, then stop trying so hard to fix it."
"I don't understand."
"Just relax, Ortiz. Treat me—treat me like you would anybody else. Just
normal."
He dipped his head. "I don't think about you like I do anybody else."
"Good," she said.
"What? You just said—"
She held up a hand to cut him off and leaned closer. "Treat me normal, Ortiz.
Treat me normal and want me at the same time. Treat me normal and then go home
and jerk off to every nasty little thought you've ever had about me. Pine after
me, Juice—and treat me like you don't."
His eyes got wider and wider as she spoke, and by the time she was done they
took up half his face. "You want me to—to…want you?" he said in a choking
voice.
"Of course I do. Not because I'm mean or narcissistic, but because…do I really
have to say?"
He gave a short, wordless nod.
"I want you, Juice. Okay? But I can't…I can't do anything about it. Not right
now. Not when every guy I meet looks at me like he's seen me naked. If you can
want me and still treat me like a human being, then maybe we could figure
something out."
"I never meant—"
"I know you didn't. You aren't gross like—" She broke off and waved a hand.
"I'm a person, you know? I have interests and passions and opinions, and quite
a few of them have absolutely nothing to do with sex."
"I know that," he said with a glower.
"Name three non-sexual things I'm into. Try to be specific."
He glared at her and held up his fist. "One," he said and lifted a finger,
"classic muscle cars. Your favorite is the Cougar, but you're also a big fan of
the Mustang—because, duh, they're basically the same thing on the inside—and
you've got a soft spot for T-birds that you'd probably never admit."
Her brow quirked. "Okay," she said. "That's one."
"Two! You hate horror movies. You don't read scary books, either, and last
summer Tara dared you to read The Shining and it gave you nightmares for a
week. You've hated topiaries ever since, but other than that you love flowers
and plants and shit. Except roses. You hate roses. I'm pretty sure tulips are
your favorite flower, but that could be wrong."
"No," she said, surprised in spite of herself. "No, you're right. And three?"
"You love art, which is sort of obvious, but your favorite artist is some
sculptor who does shit with glass. Cthulu or something. You also really like
Chagall and Frida Kahlo, and you want to go to art school but you're afraid to
apply because you think your stuff isn't good enough, and I know I know fuck-
all about it, but I think it's really good. Better than that glass shit, though
I guess the glass is kinda prettier, with all the colors and everything."
She ducked her head to hide a grin. "Chihuly," she said. "Not Cthulu. That's
the multi-limbed monster from the stygian deeps created by H.P. Lovecraft."
"I knew it was one of those," he said. He sounded sulky, but she could tell he
was trying not to smile.
She gave in and laughed, a quiet ripple of delight and pleasure that made him
sit up straighter. "How do you know what Chihuly's work looks like?"
"I looked it up."
Her head tilted. "Why?"
"Because you're into it, Liv. Like, really crazy into it. Your eyes get all big
and your voice goes kinda breathy and high and you use your hands a lot when
you talk about it. I figured if it gets you that excited I should check it
out."
"I literally have no idea how to respond to that."
He sighed and crossed his own legs so that he could scoot closer to her. "I
know this is a weird idea, Olivia, but I like you for more than just—the way
you look. I don't just think about what kinda underwear you've got on."
She cast him a look from under her lashes. "White cotton. Bikini cut. Nothing
fancy."
He drew in a breath. "I bet they look, um…I bet they look real cute, though."
"Don't start, Ortiz."
"Sorry."
"Here's something for you to mull over. You know that Third Eye Blind song?"
"Uh. There are a couple."
"The one about meth. And there's that line about those little red panties that
pass the test?"
He blinked at her. "What—what about it?"
"I wear red panties on test days. Because of that song."
"We have algebra together, Liv. How the hell am I supposed to concentrate next
time we have a test when I'm armed with that information?"
"I don't know, Juicy. I guess you'll just have to deal with it. Like how I deal
with knowing you jerk off to me three or four times a week."
He blushed and looked away. "I'm sorry. I guess that kinda grosses you out."
"Not really."
"No…?" he said, giving her a hesitant glance.
"It's not like I could stop you anyway, and I'm not going to try to make you
feel ashamed. Besides, when it's you it's kinda…I mean, it's okay. Anyone else
it would be weird."
"Why me?"
Her finger tapped against his knee. Traced a pattern over the fabric of his
pants. He thought maybe she didn't notice she was doing it, and he didn't want
to stop her.
"We have a lot of issues, Ortiz."
"One or two," he said with half a grin.
"You were really mean to me, and it did hurt my feelings, but I haven't always
been very nice to you."
He cleared his throat. "Doesn't matter. I shouldn't've said that shit."
"So why did you?" she said, her voice soft.
"I don't know." He shook his head. "Fuck, that's bullshit. I said it because I
was jealous."
"Jealous? Of…of Ben? You were with Dana."
"It didn't have anything to do with you having sex with him—I mean, not very
much to do with it—but it drove me nuts that I wanted so bad to make you feel
better and I couldn't. I was there that night and I kept thinkin' maybe if I'd
done somethin' different…I'd be the one."
She ran her tongue over her lower lip as she thought it over. "It wouldn't ever
have been you. Wait," she said before he could speak. "Not because—not because
of you, but because—it had to be someone outside. Someone I wouldn't see at
school every day. Someone I could separate from all that bullshit, even if it
was just in my head. It never would've happened if he hadn't gotten fired, and
not just because of how inappropriate that would've been."
His face twisted. "That's all it was? Psychic geography?"
She laughed. "I like that. Psychic geography. Yeah, that's basically what it
was. Not entirely. There were—other things. I mean, he's a really hot guy."
Juice snorted and she grinned. Her hand had fallen still, and now it rested on
his knee. She flipped it palm up and he tangled his fingers with hers.
"Would you be pissed if I said I'm really glad he moved to Portland?"
"Nah," she said. "I'm kind of glad too." She paused and her expression clouded.
"How do you know all that stuff about me?"
"I pay attention, Liv. We're in class together and I spend my free period in
the shop and we work together and have the same friends. I know you work real
hard to ignore me, and I get why, but I still notice you. I still listen when
you talk."
Color brushed her cheeks. "You do?"
"Come on. Gimme a little credit. Look, the other night I had a dream about you,
and there was zero sex. You dragged me to some art museum in San Francisco and
showed me all the Cthulu and I actually really liked it."
"Chihuly!" she said, laughing.
"I think I'm gonna call him Cthulu from now on."
"You're nowhere near as cute as you think you are, Ortiz," she said.
"Sure I am. You think I'm cute."
"That's beside the point."
"I don't think so."
"A lot of guys are cute," she said.
"Yeah, well, so are a lot of girls—so explain to me why you're the one I think
about all the time."
"I don't pretend to understand the mysteries of human attraction."
There was a pause. His fingers toyed with hers and a smile touched his mouth.
He looked up to meet her eyes. "Would it freak you out if I kissed you?"
"What, right now?"
"No, next Tuesday, say one o'clock?" He grinned. "Yeah, Liv. Right now."
They were sitting knee-to-knee, cross-legged. All they needed was a cake
between them. "I did always want my Sixteen Candles moment."
"I always wanted that dude's car."
"Ugh. A red Porsche? You can do better."
"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that."
They had both tilted closer, and now they were nearly touching. He rubbed his
nose against hers. She turned her head and their lips met, almost by accident.
Her fingers tightened on his and she made a low noise of surprise. He started
to pull away, but she grabbed his t-shirt with her other hand and the kiss
deepened.
Their mouths came together again and again: soft, feather-light brushes; long,
heated caresses; brief, barely-there touches. Her grip on his shirt eased and
they leaned back with shy, embarrassed smiles.
"As good as you imagined?" he said. His eyes widened when he realized how that
sounded. "I mean—when you watched the movie. Your Sixteen Candles moment."
"Better," she said. "Because it was real and not just me sitting on my kitchen
table kissing thin air."
He dissolved into a laugh. "You did that?"
"Shut up. That movie had a huge impact on younger me."
"That's so fuckin' cute."
"I hate you right now."
"Liar."
"Maybe hate is a strong word."
"Can I kiss you again?"
She tilted her head back and forth in consideration. "Yeah, okay. But only
because of the Sixteen Candles thing."
"I never thought any different."
"Sure you didn't, Ortiz," she said, a low murmur before his mouth captured
hers, and they both forgot to care about anything else.
Chapter End Notes
     Okay, things're lookin' better. Nice of Juicy to apologize for being
     such a raging bonehead.
     How did we get to ch13 already? I've only written up through 18. :/ I
     also still don't know what's going to happen next, bc rather than
     writing new stuff last night, I went back and added the second
     section here to this chapter, and another scene to ch15. Welp. Let's
     see what I can make happen today. :)
***** Maybe *****
Chapter Summary
     Juice and Olivia have another encounter, and Tara returns Olivia's
     advice from earlier.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                        maybe it's not the moon at all
                  i hear spike lee's shootin' down the street
                                  bah humbug
                                  bah humbug
                            Rent, "Light My Candle"
Olivia thought things had maybe started to quiet down. The last half of
February had been uneventful so far. People seemed to've finally grown bored
with the Olivia Gable Saga, especially since there hadn't been anything new in
almost two months. She was so openly disdainful of anyone's advances that no
one believed it when anyone bragged about fucking her, and at this point her
reputation in general was so tainted it would be a dubious honor at best
anyway.
It had become easier to ignore, too. Eventually your skin thickened and it
stopped hurting so much. She had Ben to thank for that, at least a little: he'd
shown her how desirable she could be to the right person, and how she deserved
to be treated with care. Like she was someone special, not just another notch
on the bedpost. She knew she would never settle again, and if it had taken a
"weird-ass rebellion" (to quote Juice) to teach her that, then so be it.
As February drew to a close they decided to have a sort-of birthday party for
Opie, and she and Tara told Donna's parents they were going to a youth group
get together at Olivia's dad's church. They'd loved it, and Opie was thrilled
he finally got to spend some time with his girlfriend without looking over his
shoulder every five seconds.
If Olivia and Juice were annoyed by the fact that, by default, they were always
stuck together when the six of them hung out, they both tried not to show it.
That night, the night of Opie's birthday, they'd all gone to the park. Opie and
Donna had disappeared one way while Tara and Jax disappeared the other, and
Olivia and Juice were left alone by the swing sets.
The stood facing each other, neither sure what to say. It wasn't the first time
they'd been abandoned by their paired-off friends, but normally they weren't
anywhere quite so private. It was one thing if they were at a club, because
then they could always pretend to be interested in someone around them…but here
it was just the two of them.
It was a cool night, and the moon was big in the sky. The nearest streetlamp
was out, and everything around them was bathed in a sort of watery silver glow.
The sand beneath the swings looked pearlescent, and the water oaks nearby cast
strong gray shadows.
The silence had stretched on too long, and she knew one of them had to break it
before it became truly weird. She cleared her throat and he glanced up at her.
"Alone at last," she said with a shrug.
"Yup," he said. He slid his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and
studied his boots.
They'd been trying to keep things copacetic since the weird conversation in the
break room, but mostly they'd just avoided each other—excepting that encounter
in the garage, of course, but that seemed to be a one-off. He had no idea what
to say to her, and she felt awkward and self-conscious around him. He knew way
too many of her secrets, and she knew too many of his. It wasn't how she liked
things to go. She'd known the others since they were kids, so of course they
knew things about each other…but this was completely different.
She looked around, desperate for something to distract them from each other.
"Oh! You wanna swing?"
"Swing?" he said.
She tilted her head toward the swing set. "Yeah, brainiac. Swing."
"Umm…yeah, I guess. That'd be cool."
They wandered that way and Olivia squeezed into one of the swings. He went
around behind her and she cast a look over her shoulder. "Er, whatcha doin'
back there, chief?"
He paused with his hands on the chains above her head. "I was gonna push you.
Isn't that…isn't that what you do on the swings?"
She ducked her head to hide a grin. Wow. He really was a total dork, and it was
strangely endearing. "Sure, Ortiz. You can push me."
She lifted her feet out of the sand and he gave the swing a nudge.
"You know," she said after a few quiet moments as she went higher, "I'm glad
you've stopped trying so hard."
"Trying so hard at what?" he said with a frown.
She shot him a smile. "Being cool."
He made a face. "Not sure that's really a compliment, Olivia."
She closed her hand over his as he grabbed the chain, and she jerked to a stop
so fast she started to fall. He reached to catch her, but he was off balance
from the sudden stop, too, and as his hands closed around her waist they both
tumbled to the ground in a sandy, laughing heap.
"Oops," she said. "Ow."
"Shit, are you okay?"
"Yeah. Just. Your elbow—?"
"Fuck, sorry." He pulled it out of her stomach and shifted his weight and
realized all in a rush that he was half on top of her. She didn't seem to mind,
though—now that he wasn't elbowing her in the belly—so he stayed where he was.
"I guess I should've thought that one through a little more clearly," she said.
"Yeah. Physics. What a bitch."
"Shut up, Ortiz," she said with a snort of laughter.
"Sorry." He brushed a tangle of hair away from her face. It was dark in the
moonlight and it smelled, as it always did, like mint. The familiar scent made
him ache.
"You didn't get hurt, did you?"
"Nah," she said, grinning a little. "You cushioned my fall nicely."
"Glad I could help."
They both went quiet as their eyes met. Her cheeks were flushed, her green eyes
bright and sparkling with laughter. His gaze drifted down to her mouth, full
and soft and painted cranberry red. She wiggled a little. He pushed himself up,
afraid he might be hurting her or that maybe she just didn't like him laying on
her.
"Sorry," he said for the third time. "I should—"
"Stay," she murmured.
He blinked.
"You should stay." She touched his face, her fingers cool against his heated
skin, and he dipped his head to brush his mouth over hers.
He'd done it without thinking, almost by instinct, and when she smiled at him
he did it again, lingering a little longer this time.
He pulled away to frown down at her. "This is a really bad idea, isn't it?"
"Yep," she said.
"You want to stop?"
"Nope."
"Thank God," he whispered and kissed her again.
She thrust her fingers into his short hair to pull him closer. He moved so that
he was more firmly on top of her, and his thigh slipped between her legs. He
sucked her lower lip into his mouth. Ran his tongue over it.
She made a soft noise as her lips parted to invite him deeper. Their tongues
moved together in a smooth, silken glide. He couldn't hold back a moan. He had
gone rock-hard almost the second he felt her nails against his scalp, and he
knew she had to feel it on her thigh. She tasted incredible, sweeter than he
remembered, and he felt almost as drunk as he had the first time.
Heat coiled low in her belly as he left her mouth to kiss along her jaw. He
captured her earlobe between his lips and she hissed. The spark was there, all
right, bright and shimmering and, she realized, waiting between them on a
quiet, banked simmer for a moment just like this one. It roared to life and it
was like Christmas all over again, only ten times better because this time his
hands did roam, and the feel of them stroking her sides through her shirt was
so delicious she could hardly stand it.
"Taste so good, Livvie," he rasped into her neck. "Could kiss you forever."
Their lips met again. He hesitated with his hand on her ribs, just below her
breast, and when he lifted his head in a question she nodded.
"S'good, Juicy," she said. "Don't stop."
He muttered a curse and trailed his knuckles along the underside. It was
gentle; sweet, even; and when his thumb found her nipple it was already pebbled
into a sensitive peak. He pinched it, just a little, and she bit back a gasp.
He moved his palm back down, to the hem of her shirt, and at her encouraging
nod he slid it underneath to caress her silky skin. He had just made it back to
her breast (the lacy feel of her bra blanked his mind for a second as he tried
to imagine what it looked like) when they heard the car.
It slowed to a stop and a flashlight swept across the swings.
"Shit," he said.
Her eyes widened as she recognized the silhouette of a Charming PD cruiser.
"Time to go," she said. "If I get arrested for public indecency my dad will
kill me."
He scrambled to his feet and helped her up. The flashlight's beam hit him
square in the face and the cop yelled something out the window. Maybe something
about trespassing, but neither of them stayed long enough to figure it out. Her
hand gripped his and they ran.
The Cougar was in a lot about a quarter of a mile away, and they didn't stop
until they reached it. She laughed and fell against him, flushed-face and
breathless, and he grinned down at her, that same face-transforming smile she'd
first seen at Christmas.
Just like that night it made her stomach flip over, and even as she panted she
pulled him to her by his collar and kissed him again. He cupped her face in his
hands and tangled his fingers in the wind-blown hair around her temples.
"You're crazy," he murmured against her mouth.
"Only when I'm with you," she said. "You make me nuts, Ortiz. Spin me around
and mix me up and make me forget—"
"To be so fucking scared."
"You a shrink now?" she said, but in a teasing sort of way.
"Nah," he said. "I just know you."
"You've been here three months. We've spent more time fighting or not speaking
than we have actually being civil to each other."
He curled a lock of her hair around his finger. "Sometimes it doesn't take
long."
She rested her forehead against his chest and took a deep breath. When she
looked at him again her face had changed and he knew the moment was broken. Had
he said the wrong thing again, or was this just Olivia being Olivia?
"It's getting late," she said. "I've got—I've got curfew." It was a school
night, so that meant eleven. It had been almost ten by the time they got to the
park.
He smiled and took a reluctant step back. "Okay, Liv," he said. He cast a
glance over his shoulder. "What about everybody else?"
"I'm sure they're just fine wherever they are." She hesitated. Reached up to
rub her lipstick off his mouth with her thumb. "Juice, do you think—"
He fought the urge to close his eyes and moan. Focus, he told himself. If he
fucked this up now he might not get another shot. "We could keep this between
us?" he said into her sudden silence.
"I'm sorry. It's not you. I'm just really tired of everybody knowing my
business."
"I know. I get it. I wasn't gonna tell anyone anyway."
"I know you weren't. I just like to make sure everyone's on the same page."
He nodded and raised her chin for one more kiss, closed-mouthed and chaste.
"See you in algebra tomorrow?" he said.
"Yeah, Juicy," she said. "Goodnight." She unlocked the car and slid into the
seat. Shut the door and cranked down the window. "You should know," she said
without looking at him, "I like you a lot. It's just—it's been so fuckin'
weird. I don't even know…" She trailed off and gave a frustrated shake of her
head.
"You don't have to explain, Olivia. I understand."
She cut her eyes his way. "I don't want you to think I'm a tease. After the
other week in the garage, and now this…" She trailed off with a frown.
"I don't think that. We kissed, Liv. I wasn't expecting sex under the swings."
"Or in my car?"
He laughed. "I didn't think you allowed sex in your car."
Her mouth moved in a grin. "As a general rule, no."
He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and leaned closer. "I like you too,
in case you hadn't figured it out already."
"It's always nice to hear."
"Yeah," he said, his own smile illuminating his face, "it really is."
She started the engine and he took a step backwards. "Night, Juicy."
"Night, Liv. Maybe IM me so I know you got home okay?"
She blinked at him, her brow creased and her jaw hanging open a little.
"What's wrong?" he said.
"Nothing," she replied, too quickly. "Yeah. For sure. See you tomorrow." She
put the car in gear and drove off before he could say anything else. Anything
else completely disarming and utterly incongruous to everything she might've
expected out of him.
She was still warm and tingly and half swimmy-headed from his kisses and the
feel of his hands and the press of his erection against her thigh…and then he
had to go and be considerate. Ugh. She really, really hated him sometimes.
===============================================================================
A few days later Olivia and Tara were in Olivia's bedroom studying for their
English Lit test. Olivia had made color-coded flashcards, and Tara was flipping
through them with an amazed look on her face.
"How the hell do you have time for stuff like this?"
Olivia lifted a brow. "You'd have time, too, if you weren't down Jax's pants
all the time."
"True. But what kind of disciple would I be to the Church of Life's Too Short
for Bad Sex if I didn't spread the Word?"
"Preach, sister."
"You're always so productive when you're not getting laid," Tara said as she
stacked the cards and set them on the desk.
"Lots of leftover energy. Gotta spend it somewhere, and there's only so often I
can wash my car."
"Or your hair."
"So who's first? Shelley or Byron?"
Tara made a face. "It's so ridiculous that we study Percy Shelley when his wife
invented an entire genre of fiction as part of a fuckin' bet."
"Didn't you hear? Frankenstein is trash, and inappropriate for young minds."
"Fuck that. They just don't want us to know women are good for anything besides
popping out babies and doing their laundry."
"Preach, sister," Olivia said with a twist of her mouth.
Tara grinned at her and fished her book out of her backpack. "I guess Shelley,
in honor of his wife, Mary, whose contribution to the pantheon of modern
literature is sadly overlooked because her reproductive organs were on the
inside."
Olivia swiped the stack of cards off the desk and flipped to the blue ones. She
shuffled through them, but then stopped and let them fall from her fingers.
"Can I talk to you about something without you giving me shit about it?"
Tara twisted around in the chair to look at her. Olivia sat on the bed with her
legs crossed. Her head was bowed, and her coppery hair fell around her face so
that Tara couldn't see her expression. Worry creased Tara's brow. Olivia hadn't
been herself lately—really since Mr. Collins moved to Portland. Had she cared
about him more than she'd let on?
"No shit giving," she said. "I promise. What's up?"
She gathered the cards and started sorting them back into their colored
groupings. "It's about…it's about Juice Ortiz."
As if there were another Juice they could be talking about. Orange, maybe, but
Tara seriously didn't think citrus would have Olivia quite so nervous. "Did
something happen? Something bad? Because you seem kinda…" She trailed off with
a helpless sort of shrug.
"No, nothing bad. At least I don't think so. I guess that's kinda what I want
to talk about."
"Okay. Are you gonna tell me, or make me guess?"
Olivia let out an impatient sigh. "It happened the other night at Opie's party.
When we went to the park and you guys bailed on us?"
"We didn't bail, exactly, we just—"
She held up a hand. "It's fine; you don't have to explain. We're pretty used to
it by now."
Tara fidgeted a little. "I guess it's kinda shitty. You two get stuck together
all the time and you don't even like each other that much."
"Well, I mean, he could start bringing a date. I know he broke up with Dana,
but at this point there are plenty of girls who would go out with him."
Olivia hadn't really been kidding when she'd made that comment about his
reputation: Asia was considered easy (a few steps below Olivia on the slut
ladder, but not much), but Dana was Somebody. TJ Flanary's ninth grade
girlfriend, Homecoming Court every year, in the strong running for junior Prom
Queen according to school scuttlebutt. And Juice Ortiz had broken up with her,
not vice versa, and he wasn't saying why. It made him a mystery, and high
school loves a good conundrum.
"What happened between the two of them anyway?" Tara said. "He seemed sort of
into her."
He really wasn't saying why.
"Ah…I guess she's the one who went to Presbo about Mr. Collins and me? At TJ's
urging, apparently."
"Wait." Tara waved her hand like she hadn't heard quite right. "Juice broke up
with Dana Riley—Dana Riley, considered, like, the hottest girl at SanWa
South—because she ratted you out to Mr. Presbolowski?"
"I don't think the hottest," Olivia said and scrunched her nose.
"One of the hottest."
"Whatever. Beside the point. He said he didn't want to go out with someone who
had anything to say to TJ. He, um. He really hates him."
"Everyone with two brain cells to rub together really hates him. Seems like
Juice has a special grudge, though."
Olivia divided the index cards into even, color-coded piles as she spoke. "He
picked me up the night I broke up with TJ, like I told you before. TJ left me
on the side of the road, and if Juice hadn't happened to drive by, it was like
a two mile walk to that Shell station outside of town. And I'd left my purse in
TJ's car so I didn't have a quarter for the phone anyway."
Tara narrowed her eyes. "Why do I get a feeling there's something you aren't
telling me about that night?"
"Best friend instinct, I guess. Yeah, I'm not telling you everything, but—it's
not really something I want to talk about."
She let out a long sigh. She was doing well to get this much out of Olivia. She
wasn't exactly the sharing type, even with Tara. And Tara knew her better than
anyone. "Yeah, okay. But if you change your mind—"
Olivia smiled. "I know where to find you."
"Yup." She tapped her pencil against the desk. "You wanted to talk about Juice,
though. What happened at the park?"
She ducked her head and blushed. "We sort—made out. I mean, not sort of. We
did. And it was—it was crazy."
"Did you look like you'd been mauled?"
Olivia threw her pen cap at her. "It wasn't like at Christmas. There were hands
involved, for one. And tongues."
"Ohhh-kay. That's a few steps beyond the mistletoe."
"Not sure what would've happened, but a cop car pulled up and we had to
scatter. I mean, we were by the swings in the park. Out in the open. It's not
like we would've had sex or anything."
Tara cleared her throat and shifted in her seat. "Let me get this straight. You
and Juice made out—like, really made out, not just a couple of kisses—in the
park, and now you're…what? Freaking out about it?"
"Yes, a little!"
"Olivia, come on. You made out with a hot guy. That's like Olivia Gable one-oh-
one."
"I don't make out with that many people."
"I know you don't, but when you do you usually don't freak out about it."
"You think Juice is hot?"
"Ollie!"
"What? It's a serious question."
Tara exhaled on an exasperated huff. "He's pretty hot. He's got nice arms. And
a great smile."
Olivia turned her head and tried to smother a grin. "His smile's not bad," she
said, her lips twitching.
Tara's mouth fell open a little. Holy shit. She blinked and tried to play it
cool. "What changed? I thought he was an asshole."
"I think he just does a pretty good imitation of one when he's cornered."
"Huh," Tara said. "Reminds me of someone else I know."
Olivia grimaced. "So, okay, you win: I like him. I like him a lot. If we had
been somewhere private instead of in the middle of a public park, I can't
guarantee I wouldn't have gone all the way with him."
"Wow."
"I know. It's only been a month since Ben left for Portland, and I'm already
thinking of having sex with someone else? I don't want it to be like that, like
I jumped from in bed with Ben to in bed with Juice, and I know this sounds bad,
but I just—I really don't want to be his girlfriend."
"Why not? You said you like him."
"That's part of why, Tara. I'm like—I'm tainted goods. I'm—"
"You know he doesn't care about that."
"No, I know, and he says it any time it comes up in conversation, but the thing
is…I care. I know I shouldn't, and I know I act like I don't, but I do. I like
Juice, and I really like making out with Juice, but I don't want to give them
any more to talk about. I don't want people making comments to him or
whispering about us or treating him like shit because he's dating the school
slut."
It was a dimension to the problem Tara hadn't considered before, but knowing
Olivia it made perfect sense. She acted like nothing bothered her, like
everything just rolled off without leaving a mark, but that was bullshit. And
maybe she would be okay—or more okay—if it were just her, but honestly she
would rather have a thousand rumors about her than just one that might hurt
someone she cared about. It's why she was so desperate to keep the worst of it
from her dad.
"So, okay," Tara said, her practical side taking over, "keep it a secret. Don't
tell anybody. Not even us. I mean, obviously I know, but duh I'm your best
friend. But don't tell Jax or Ope or Donna. Act normal at school and TM, and
then sneak off and make out in the nearest closet."
Her mouth quirked, but then the smile faded when she realized Tara was being
serious. "You aren't kidding."
"Nope. And if you aren't into anything, like, serious, just tell him that. Have
sex with him if that's what you both want to do, but make sure he knows where
you're coming from first. I can't imagine you want to lead him on or hurt him."
"No, of course not."
"Okay, then. Just be honest and upfront, and let him decide if it's what he
wants. If he doesn't, well…sucks for him, because you're one hell of a great
lay."
"Ha!"
"What? You must be. You had Mr. Collins panting after you for a month and
basically willing to carry on a long-distance affair after he moved, and the
shit you've told me? Jax owes you huge. At least eleven fruit baskets."
"Eleven?"
"Make it a baker's dozen, and add a muffin basket for the hell of it."
Olivia giggled. "Somethin' must be working, because you've never encouraged me
to have casual sex before."
Tara sighed and fixed her friend with a stern look. "Ollie, babe, you know I
love you, and you might be the High Priestess of the Church of Life's Too Short
for Bad Sex, but you've got a lot to learn about relationships."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"Exactly what it sounds like. Any sex you have with Juice Ortiz won't be
casual. No one looks the way you two did after the mistletoe incident and then
has casual sex."
She chewed on the end of the pen that belonged with the cap she'd thrown at
Tara earlier. "What do we have then?"
"Hot, crazy, wild, toe-curling sex, I hope. There's a lot of heat between you
two; you'd have to be blind and oblivious not to notice it."
"You think he's that good?"
Tara made a skeptical noise. "Unlikely. He is a sixteen-year-old boy, after
all." She grinned and pressed her hands together. "But I'm sure you can teach
him, O Wise One. Share your sagacious wisdom and bring enlightenment to another
lost soul."
"I think sagacious wisdom is kind of redundant."
"Also pretentious, but I don't point out your flaws."
"Hum," she said, doubtfully. Then, "You're saying I should teach Juice all the
ways of the Force and then release him unto the world to use his knowledge
on other girls?"
She hitched a shoulder. "Teach him, then keep him if you want. Never hurts to
have a sex Jedi handy." She muffled a giggle. "I'm sure he'd love to let you
play with his lightsaber."
"Boo! Party foul," Olivia said with a laugh.
"Oh, please, clearly that's where we were going. There's no way I could let it
pass."
She acknowledged that with an amused quirk of her brow. "You know we're gonna
fail this fuckin' test if we don't quit talking about Ortiz's lightsaber and
actually study."
"You brought it up. I just ran with it." She held out a hand and Olivia passed
her a stack of cards. "God, Ollie, just fuck Juice already so that I don't have
to deal with color-coded flashcards anymore."
"You'll thank me tomorrow."
"Uh huh. And you'll thank me when you're back on a steady diet of orgasms."
"Now who's the smug bitch?" Olivia said, grinning.
"That'd be me." She frowned. "All of these questions about Percy Shelley have
the same answer. Percy Shelley was married to this woman, the author
of Frankenstein. Percy Shelley's wife invented what genre of literature. Percy
Shelley lost a bet to his wife when she kicked everybody's ass by writing this
Gothic horror classic. Sneaky, sneaky."
She shrugged. "He told us to write an essay about Shelley. I plan on writing
one about the woman in his life."
"I like your style, Gable. Think he'll fail us?"
"Depends on how good our bullshit is."
"Please. The best."
"No doubt."
"Welp," Tara said and picked up her pencil, "here's to under appreciated women
everywhere."
"Fuck yeah," Olivia said.
"Fuck yeah," Tara echoed as they shared a smile.
Chapter End Notes
     I'm pretty sure Juice has no clue what he's in for.
     Let know how you're doing, lovely readers. Your words always make me
     grin. :D
***** Out the Door *****
Chapter Summary
     More fallout from Olivia's affair with Mr. Collins, and Juice's
     attempts at comfort sort of backfire.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
          hey you've got a lot of nerve to show your face 'round here
            hey you've got a lot of nerve to dredge up all my fears
      well i wish i could shake some sense into you and walk out the door
                        but your skin is like porcelain
                       yeah your skin is like porcelain
                         Better Than Ezra, "Porcelain"
It had been kind of a strange week. Ever since Opie's party last Sunday he and
Olivia had been sort of dancing around each other. Not the same way as
before—that awkward, stiff, be careful or this whole thing might blow up sorta
way, but instead in a kinda oh shit what do we do now? way. The kisses in the
garage had been nice, but sort of…innocent. What happened that night under the
swings was completely different. They'd hung out Friday after school, talking
cars and video games and (to his fascination, because he knew nothing about it)
art.
He'd kissed her, and she'd kiss him back, and he wondered why he'd ever
bothered kissing anyone else because when he kissed Olivia it was like
everything good and cool and fun in his life had been compacted into that one
moment when his lips were on hers and suddenly none of the bad shit mattered.
At least for that moment.
He couldn't stop thinking about her. He'd thought about her a lot before, yeah,
but now it was like he woke up thinking about her freckles and fell asleep
remembering her laugh and he felt like a complete fucking idiotbecause what the
hell? Who got so caught up over a girl after a couple of kisses and once barely
sorta touching her boobs?
Now it was Monday morning, and he was actually excited about being back at
school. He hadn't seen her all weekend—she'd had plans with Tara Saturday and
with her dad on Sunday—and his eyes scanned the parking lot for the Cougar as
he pulled in. It was there, in its usual spot, but Olivia wasn't in it. Tara
got out of the Cutlass as he cut his engine and dropped down the kickstand. He
waved to her and she trotted over.
"Hey, yo," she said. "Good weekend?"
"Not bad," he said. "You?"
"Yup. You and Opie were keepin' my fella awfully busy yesterday."
"Dirt bikes, man. Never knew how fun they could be."
"That's because you grew up in a concrete jungle," she said with a grin.
"Welcome to California."
There was a rumble of motorcycle engines behind them, and they stepped out of
the way so Jax and Opie could park. Donna was perched on the back of Opie's
bike, which was a surprise. When Tara asked her about it she shrugged.
"I told my dad I had to hit the library early this morning. Ope picked me up
there."
"One day parents will understand that their rules are meaningless," Tara said
with a grin.
"Right?" said Donna. "It's like they've never even read Romeo and Juliet."
"Didn't everybody die in that one?" Opie said as he threw an arm over her
shoulder.
"Everyone dies in all of 'em, Ope," said Juice. "That Shakespeare was one sick
fuck."
"Fuckin' or dyin', that's the Shakespeare life," Tara said.
"Sounds like the MC life to me," Jax said.
Even as they laughed Tara and Donna shared a look. It was too close to the
truth to be truly funny, and it was something that worried both of them. They
were young, in love (or at least in very deep like), and thinking long-term was
kind of a foreign concept. But the MC was everywhere, and if you were gonna get
involved with Jax Teller or Opie Winston, it was gonna be a part of your life.
"Anybody seen Ollie this morning?" Tara said.
"Don't you two usually carpool?" Jax said.
"Usually. She needed to come in early to finish some make up work for Mrs.
Hanson."
"Her car's here," Juice said with a nod that way. "She's probably around
somewhere."
They wandered toward the building with the rest of the crowd, and as they
stepped through the big double doors all five of them stopped short. There were
flyers strewn everywhere: all over the floor. Taped to the lockers. Stuck to
the walls. One fluttered through the air near Juice's head and he grabbed at
it. It took him a minute to decipher what he was seeing; the printed photo was
fuzzy; but slowly he began to make sense of it.
It had been taken from across the street looking toward someone's front porch.
He could tell by the bright hair it was Olivia, and she was locked in an
embrace with a tall, thin guy with brown hair and the trace of a beard. His
arms were around her waist, one hand resting casually on her ass, and hers were
locked around his neck. They were kissing.
Below the picture a headline screamed in huge red font: "OLIVIA GABLE,
VOTED YOUR BLOWJOB QUEEN AND SANWA SOUTH'S #1 WHORE, LIVES UP TO HER TITLE. GET
IT MR. C!1!11!"
"Holy shit," Juice said in a strangled voice.
"Oh my God," Tara whispered. "Oh my God!"
"Get them!" said Donna. "Take them down! Quick, before everyone sees!"
She grabbed double handfuls of the sheets off the floor, and after a stunned
second Jax broke left and Opie broke right to do the same. Juice couldn't move.
Tara touched his arm and he shook himself.
"You think she's seen these?" he said.
Tara's mouth was a grim line. "You should go find her."
"Me? Maybe you—"
"Juice," she said. She held up the flyer for him to see, as if the image wasn't
seared into his brain. "You think it's best friend she needs right now? She
knows what I'm gonna say: whoever did this is a fucking cocksucker and we're
going to find him and cut his tiny little dick off with my manicure scissors."
He winced even though it did seem like a fit punishment. "Wow."
"It's not me she's gonna be worried about," Tara said like he hadn't spoken.
He blinked. "Why—?"
"Quit asking questions and go find her, idiot," she said with a sort of
exasperated affection.
He wadded up the flyer in his hand and tossed it at the nearest trashcan. If
she were on campus—and she had to be, because she wouldn't have left without
the Cougar—then there was only one place she could be. He skidded around the
corner, ripping down flyers as he went (Jesus Christ how much had they spent on
paper?) and burst through the shop door.
He stopped to catch his breath, but she wasn't there. A half-finished sculpture
stood shrouded next to the torch, and as he looked around he knew she wasn't in
the room. One more place to check, and when he tried the door he found it
unlocked. He pushed it open.
She sat on the sprung brown couch with her head bowed and a familiar sheet of
paper in her hand. At the sound of the door she looked up, and he closed his
eyes at the sight of her face. Opened them again and stepped inside.
"I thought I locked that," she said.
"It can be tricky." He made sure it was really locked this time and shuffled
closer. She flinched and he stopped. Tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked
back on his heels. Another of the flyers was on the table. He picked it up and
gave it a brief, dismissive glance.
"Man, someone's been a real litter bug this morning," he said. "The Ents are
gonna be pissed when they hear about all this wasted paper."
Her head tilted. "Did you just make a Tolkien reference?"
"I read," he said.
"Apparently so." She looked away and clenched her fist around the sheet in her
hand. "Everybody got some good reading this morning."
"Liv—" He broke off, at a loss. What could he say? There was pictorial
evidence, so it wasn't like he could just dismiss it. And it wasn't
timestamped, so there was no way for people to know if it had been before or
after he was fired.
He sighed, shrugged out of his jacket, and draped it over a chair. He
approached slowly, his expression wary, and when she didn't wave him off he
sank down next to her. Lifted a hand and brushed it gently through her hair and
down to rest against her neck. She flashed him a bitter look.
"You're seriously cool with being locked in a room alone with me?" She waved
the flyer under his nose. "Haven't you heard? I'm a total whore. You should be
running the other way."
He took it from her, crumpled it, and threw it across the room. "I don't give a
fuck what those assholes think. You wanna walk out there right now? I'll hold
your hand. I'll kiss you in front of God and everybody."
"All things considered that might just make things worse."
"Okay. Then I'll kiss you right here, with the door locked and nobody else
around."
"Maybe I don't want you to kiss me at all."
"Then I won't." He pulled her closer. She fought him at first, but after a
moment she sagged into him and her cheek fell against his chest. He gathered
her onto his lap, her legs draped over his and her body twisted to press
against him. She slid her arms around his middle and held on tight.
"I said before it wouldn't matter as much if I'd done the things they said,"
she mumbled, her voice muffled by his shirt. "Looks like I was wrong. God my
dad could find out about this. He would be so mad. Disappointed. I fucking hate
disappointing him more than anything."
"Tara and everybody are picking them up right now. They'll probably all be gone
before first bell."
"I guess TJ was just waiting, you know? Lulling me into complacency. I just
wanna know who took the picture. Was he following me? Or was it some nosy
neighbor, and he, I don't know—canvassed the fucking street or something?"
"Either way it's creepy as hell." He paused. "Olivia, I know what you said
before about going after TJ, but honestly…I don't think I can just let this one
slide. Jax and Opie are probably gonna feel the same way. The rumors were one
thing, but this? He needs the shit kicked out of him."
She craned her neck and met his steady gaze with a frown. "I don't want anyone
getting in trouble because of me. I'm not worth it."
"You know how I feel about that, so I'm not even gonna address it." His mouth
quirked. "You should know Tara's already planning to castrate him with nail
scissors."
Her eyes widened and she let out a huff of laughter. "It's better not to get on
Tara's bad side. She's got one hell of a temper under that calm exterior."
"Yeah, I noticed." He ran his thumb over her cheek and she turned her head to
kiss his palm. He hesitated. Somehow his other hand was on her thigh; he hadn't
noticed before; and with her short plaid skirt and black over-the-knee socks,
it was nothing but bare skin beneath his fingers. He brushed them against her
and watched as her pupils went big.
She shifted on his lap and he winced. Jerked his hand away with a curse. What
an idiot. What an asshole. He was supposed to be making her feel better and now
he was hard and it was pressing right against her ass like—oh God that was
making it worse.
Her mouth tilted in a smile. "Ortiz—"
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry, fuck, I didn't—"
"It's okay," she said, laughing. She grabbed his wrist and guided him back to
her thigh.
He let out a long breath and traced a fingertip around the top of her sock.
"You want to touch me?" she said, her voice somehow both incredibly sexy and
incredibly vulnerable at the same time.
His chin jerked in a nod. "I always wanna touch you," he breathed. "Kind
of—kind of go crazy wantin' to touch you."
"Good," she whispered as she pulled him down for a kiss. "Then do it."
He hesitated, torn between wanting her so bad he could barely stand it and not
wanting to do anything to hurt her, ever. "Are you sure, Liv? I don't want—"
"I'm sure, Juice." His hand glided a little higher, further up her skirt, and
she smiled. "Good touch," she said.
He understood, then, what she meant, and why Tara had insisted he be the one to
find her: those flyers had made her feel dirty. Unclean and unwanted and,
worse, unwant-able. She said she didn't regret the thing with Mr. C, and he
believed her, but now it had been turned against her. The decision she'd made
to try to take a tiny bit of control had blown up in her face and left her
doubting everything.
Sex wasn't any sort of cure, but maybe right now it could at least be a quick-
fix, a sort of soothing stopgap until the real work of putting herself back
together could begin.
All of this flashed through his mind in an instant, but by the time he focused
on her again she'd taken advantage of his brief distraction. Her hand was under
his shirt, tickling his ribs, and her mouth was hot against the side of his
neck.
"Livvie," he rasped as he rubbed his thumb against her inner thigh. He pulled
her head back, gently, by the hair and captured her full lips. Nipped them with
his and dipped his tongue between them to explore her sweet mouth.
She slid off his lap and scooted back toward the other arm of the couch. She
smiled and crooked her finger, and he followed her, stretching his body out
along hers and dropping kisses as he went: her tummy where her shirt rode up a
little; her chest where the neckline dropped; the sensitive spot behind her ear
that made her squirm.
"So good, Livvie," he murmured as he kissed her. "Taste so sweet, like candied
violets."
She giggled and ran her fingers through his hair. "When have you ever had
candied violets, Ortiz?"
"Haven't," he said. "But I bet they taste like you."
Her expression stilled and her eyes turned soft. "That's—" Abruptly she smiled,
huge and bright, and he blinked at her. "That's ridiculous, Ortiz."
"Hum." He trailed his hand over her breasts—her nipples were obvious through
her shirt as they hardened—and grinned at her. "You seem to like it."
"Come here," she said and pulled him down to her again. She tugged at the hem
of his thermal shirt and he stripped it off. She stroked the lines of his back
and sank her teeth, lightly, into his shoulder, and then harder when he
groaned.
He had one hand under her shirt, playing with a nipple through her bra, and the
other up her skirt rubbing her thigh. He kissed her drunkenly, roughly, and she
responded with heated fervor. The spark between them kindled into a flame, then
erupted in a full-on inferno with barely any pause between the two.
He shoved her shirt up and pulled the cup of her bra down and closed his mouth
over her pink nipple. He'd never seen her breasts before. He couldn't spare the
brain space to look, and all he wanted was to taste, taste, taste.
She gripped his scalp with strong fingers as her breath hitched and deepened
into hard, sharp gasps.
"My panties," she whispered. He pulled them down with one long motion, left
them tangled around her boots, and pushed her skirt higher.
Then, "Do you have a condom?"
"Fuck," he muttered. "Fuck goddamn hang on." He tore himself away to dig in his
pants pocket for his wallet. He knew he had one in there. If it was expired or
something he was gonna go throw himself in the reservoir with a rock tied to
his ass.
She closed her eyes and fell back against the cushions. Her fingers bumped over
the dimples just above his ass and he let out a hiss that made her grin.
"Found it!" he said.
She heard his belt jingle and the sound of his zipper, then the crinkle of the
wrapper. She cracked an eyelid, but he was still facing away. She smiled as he
spun toward her and sank down to kiss her again.
"Oh, you're back," she said.
"Miss me?" he asked as he nibbled her lip.
"Uh huh."
He brushed his fingers between her legs, over the soft curls, and his mouth
fell open when he found her hot and wet and slick. "Fuck, Liv," he grated.
She laughed a little. "What can I say, baby? You wind me up."
The tip of his cock nudged her lips and she frowned a little. "Juice—"
He rocked against her, slipping partway in, but she was still tight. He panted,
his eyes squeezed shut, and pushed deeper.
"What are you doing?" she said. "Juice, wait."
He froze. "Huh?"
She shoved at his shoulder. "Stop. Just stop."
Completely confused and more than a little lust-addled, he stared at her as he
struggled to make sense of it. One thing was clear: she was suddenly very
unhappy with him, and he had no clue what he'd done. He sat up and fell back on
his heels, his erection bouncing absurdly against his belly.
"Liv, what—"
"What is a damn good question, Ortiz. As in what the hell was that about?"
"I don't understand." He rubbed a hand over his head. Had he missed something?
Obviously, because she'd swung her legs around and was pulling her panties up
and her eyes were hot with fury instead of passion like they'd been ten seconds
ago.
"Tell me what I did, Liv. Please. Just tell me what's wrong."
"Unbelievable. Seriously, Juice? Really?" He looked so genuinely puzzled, so
honestly befuddled, that she threw her hands up in frustration. "You can't just
go shoving it in, Ortiz! There's such a thing as foreplay, you know, and it
takes a little longer than two minutes!"
"Wha…? You asked if I had a condom. You were, like, soaking wet. I thought you
were ready!"
"I asked about the condom so that if we got to that stage there wouldn't be any
last minute scrambling. I'm on the Pill, but I like backup, and I prefer to
plan ahead a little. And, yeah, I was wet. That's…" She trailed off with a
scowl. "That's a pretty standard reaction when you touch me."
"It is?"
"Focus, Juice!"
"Sorry, I just—"
"You really think that's all there is to it? Some kisses and a little nipple
play and bam, I'm ready to go?"
"It's always worked before," he mumbled.
She leaned down to look him in the face. "No offense, Ortiz, but has it? Has it
really? Maybe go back and ask them. You might be surprised at the answer."
She scooped her backpack up from the chair and tossed his jacket over her
shoulder. Paused a moment to study the flyer and smirked. "If it's one thing
the Blowjob Queen and SanWa South's number one whore knows about, it's fucking.
Come find me when you're ready to learn a thing or two."
She sauntered toward the door.
"Liv, wait!"
She stopped but didn't look back. Her hand was on the doorknob. He scrambled
for something to say. "That—that's my jacket," he finally managed.
She tossed a smile his way. "You can have it back when you've earned it."
"How—how do I—?"
"Guess, Ortiz," she said. "Take a wild guess."
Then she was gone, and he slumped back against the couch with a long string of
curses. What the fuck had just happened? He could still feel her. Taste her on
his lips. Smell her on his fingers. He groaned at the scent, all musk and honey
and Olivia. He licked his fingertips. His other hand drifted down to grasp his
still-throbbing cock.
Goddamn she twisted him up. He'd had her wet and dripping beneath him and
somehow he'd fucked it all up. How had he even managed that? He'd been inside
her and it still hadn't happened.
He stroked himself, using the lubed (inside and out) condom as a sort of
sheath. He tightened his fingers around his shaft and thrust into his hand.
Closed his eyes and moaned out her name. He knelt on that ugly brown couch in
the break room, shirtless, with his pants and underwear around his knees, his
cock in his hand, and his face scrunched in concentration. What would she think
if she changed her mind and walked in right now? Would she be grossed out or
turned on?
Somehow, with Olivia, he thought turned on. She'd give him that look, that
little mouth-quirked-eyebrows-raised smirk that went straight to his gut every
time. Maybe she'd take over with her hand or, God fuck wow, her mouth, that
sweet soft mouth that he loved to kiss so much, that felt so fucking good when
she…
Or maybe she'd wiggle out of her panties and sit down across from him. Spread
her legs in their sexy over-the-knee socks and watch him. Her hand would drift
down…she'd rub her clit and shove her fingers inside…
"Fuck," he gasped, "fuck holy shit yeah, Livvie, let me watch you come…!" His
hips bucked and he exploded, his dick jerking again and again and his balls
spasming until he thought every single drop of jizz they'd ever held was now in
the condom.
No kids for Juice Ortiz: he was completely out of sperm.
The thought made him laugh in his giddy, post-orgasmic state. But then he
sagged like his strings had been cut. Now what? She'd told him to find her when
he wanted to learn. Learn what? Asia and Dana had never complained.
Ask them, she'd said. He scowled and yanked the condom off. Tied the end and
stumbled to his feet to fix his clothes. He buried the used condom in the
trashcan under papers and pencil shavings and candy wrappers; the last thing
Olivia needed was someone finding it in the break room trash. She was the only
girl who was ever around the shop, and Juice knew what everyone would think.
He couldn't decide if the fact that it was half-true made it better or worse.
She'd taken his fucking jacket. He hitched his backpack onto his shoulder and
stomped out. Earn it back. Jesus Christ. His own fucking jacket!
But despite his frustration and anger, he skipped homeroom to track down Asia
and Dana. Apparently he had a few questions for them.
Chapter End Notes
     For those of you who've read Come With Me Tonight, you'll recognize
     the jacket thing. Other-timeline Olivia warned him. :) (sounds like
     we're watching Fringe)
     So I'm cruising right along through ch19, but you guys know I love
     hearing from you. :)
***** Crashing Down *****
Chapter Summary
     Olivia's dad finds one of the flyers, and he has a couple of opinions
     on the matter.
Chapter Notes
     I, too, feel bad for Juice: but don't worry. It's all for the best. :
     )
     Also, this chapter shares the name with a chapter of Come With Me
     Tonight, but for two different songs. Hum.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
               and you'll be hurting in a way you can't explain
            and all those pretty things you love will look so vain
               'cos the laughing crowd is such a hopeless sound
                      when loneliness comes crashing down
                          Del Amitri, "Crashing Down"
Olivia was both surprised and concerned when she got home and her father's old,
beat up pickup was still in the driveway. He should've left for work hours ago.
She closed her eyes and gripped the steering wheel. Maybe he was sick. He'd
actually been sniffling some yesterday, like maybe he was coming down with
something, so it could've turned into a full-blown cold. Or the flu! That was
probably it. He had the flu and would be bundled up on the couch and whining
for soup.
You knew your life was fucked up when you found yourself wishing the flu on
your father.
She locked the car behind her and went inside. Carefully hung Juice's jacket in
the hall closet. Her dad never went in there, and the last thing she wanted was
him grilling her as to why she suddenly had a leather jacket ten sizes too
big—that smelled like sandalwood and cigarettes, not that she'd sniffed it or
anything.
She tiptoed down the hall, avoiding the squeaky board, and she'd just touched
her doorknob when his voice floated from the kitchen.
"Olivia, is that you? Come in here, please."
Her shoulders fell and she mumbled a low curse. She walked back that way with
her head high, though, and when she peeked around the corner she knew she was
in trouble.
"Hi, Daddy. What's up?"
His fingers were steepled on the table, and when he lifted his hand her heart
stuttered and the blood drained out of her face.
"Daddy, please, I can explain—"
"Sit down, Olivia," he said, in that quiet voice that meant she was in the
deepest of deep shit.
She sank down into a chair across from him. He tapped a finger against the
headline.
"Now I get that the first part of this has to do with those rumors TJ started.
I assume it's completely baseless and just high school bullshit."
She nodded wordlessly, but to his credit it had been rhetorical.
"It's the second part that concerns me. And the photo, of course, because you
already told me about the other rumor—and assured me it wasn't true." He held
the flyer up and studied it with squinted eyes. "I don't know Ben Collins that
well, but if I ran into him on the street I'd be able to call him by name." He
dropped it again and fixed her with a look. "Olivia, is this a picture of you
kissing Mr. Collins on what I assume is his front porch?"
Her chin dropped, and she stared at her fingers as they fidgeted with each
other. "Yeah, Dad," she mumbled. "That's what it is."
He rubbed his forehead and leaned toward her with his elbows on the table.
"Please explain to me the context of this photograph. You told me nothing
improper happened between you two, and yet I find myself staring at pictorial
evidence that was shoved through our mail slot."
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Pressed her palms to the table's
wooden surface to stop her hands' trembling. She met his concerned blue gaze,
and her eyes were steady. "This was taken after he was fired.
Nothing did happen—while he was my teacher. I wasn't lying about that. I
promise you."
Olivia didn't make promises lightly; he knew that; and after a moment he tilted
his head in brief acknowledgement. "What happened, Ollie? He decided his firing
was an opportunity to improve his social life?"
"Dad, no, it wasn't like that at all."
He lifted a brow and made a gesture like so, tell me then.
"I'm the one who came on to him. I went over to his house to apologize and make
sure he knew I wasn't behind the rumors, and while I was there I just…I kind of
just thought why not? Everyone already thought it anyway. He'd already lost his
job. Why not?" she said.
"Why not? Olivia! I thought your mother and I raised you to have more self-
respect. He is a grown man. He should know better than to mess around with a
teenage girl, and you should know better than to throw yourself at him like—"
He cut himself off and she lifted a brow. "Like a slut?"
"I didn't say that."
"No, but you're kind of thinking it. The girl who seduces her teacher—even her
former teacher—is the slut, right? Well, see, that's kind of the problem.
Because I'm not a slut. I never have been. And even if I were, people still
wouldn't have the right to judge me. Who am I hurting?"
His eyes darkened with concern. "Yourself, sweetheart. This kind of behavior—"
"Daddy. I've been on the Pill since I was fifteen. He used a condom.
We tried to be discreet, but either I have a stalker or he has particularly
nosy neighbors."
"It's good that you were responsible, but, Olivia, this isn't okay. How old is
he?"
"Twenty-six."
He absorbed that in silence. "It is not okay for you to have sex with your
twenty-six-year-old teacher."
She held up a hand. "Can we break that statement down for a moment?"
He sighed but motioned for her to continue. He knew her well enough to give her
her say.
"Okay. The reason it isn't okay for students and teachers to have affairs—or
employees and bosses, for that matter—is that there's a power imbalance. No
matter who initiates the affair, the person in the position of
authority always has the power. They can threaten you with a bad grade or even
boost your grade because they've seen you naked. And then if the person with
less power wants to end it or just control the other person, they threaten to
expose the whole thing.
"Either way it's an incredibly unhealthy dynamic, and it's not something I have
any interest in. At all."
"All right," he said after a quiet moment. "So you're saying you removed the
power imbalance by waiting until after he was fired. Olivia, he's still nine
years older than you!"
"I know. But, Dad, is your problem that I had sex with someone nine years
older—or that I had sex?"
He scrubbed a hand down his face. "Both."
"So if that were a picture of Opie and me you'd be mad, but not as mad?"
"At least Opie is your classmate! A friend you've known nearly your whole
life!"
"Okay, then I guess I should tell you I had sex with Opie when we were dating
last year."
He flinched. "Pumpkin, I don't need the details of your—of your sex life."
"Except apparently you do, because you're upset that I didn't tell you about
this." She tapped the flyer.
"Look, Daddy, I get that you're my father, and it's a father's job to look out
for his kids—especially his daughter—but you've gotta understand. I go to a
school where a guy can start a rumor that I fellated the entire football team
basically just because I wouldn't have sex with him, and then a month later I'm
officially voted Blowjob Queen in a school-wide poll." She paused. "Do you see
my problem?"
"Damned if you do, damned if you don't," he muttered.
"Exactly. I live with this every day. The looks. The whispers. The—the guys
treat me like I'm a piece of meat and the girls treat me like I'm disgusting.
Things had finally started to calm down, and now this. You should've seen it
today. The place was practically wallpapered with them."
He sighed and shook his head. "I'm so sorry you're going through this, Olivia.
I wish I could help you. I just don't understand—if you wanted to rebel, why
did you choose Mr. Collins?"
"What? You'd rather I chose Tig Trager?"
He made a face. "Don't even joke."
"Mr. Collins treated me well, Dad. I mean, once the rumors and everything
started, everybody's behavior changed. Even my friends became
really careful around me. He was the same as he'd always been. He didn't look
at me weird or pity me; he just told me he didn't believe it, asked if I was
okay, and moved on."
"I assume this was while he was still your teacher."
She nodded. "When they told me he'd been fired I was pissed not just because he
was a great teacher and it was a huge loss for the school—do you have any idea
how metal shop kids are treated? Like they're total losers with no potential.
Mr. C wasn't like that at all, ever, and it's what made him so awesome."
She waved a hand. "Sorry. Anyway, it was extra painful because he'd been so
normal when no one else was. It was like, great. The one person who doesn't
treat me like I just got diagnosed with cancer is booted out and it's because
of me. Me, and a lie."
"So your response was to sleep with him? That doesn't make sense to me."
"My response was to say screw you to all those assholes at school who tried to
make my sexuality something shameful. There's no reason for it, Dad! They
didn't have any right to violate me like that. They didn't have any right to
make me feel like my entire value as a human being is tied up in some mythical
notion of purity."
His brows drew together. "Olivia, honey, no one is saying that."
"That's exactly what everyone is saying! I'm a slut—a girl who enjoys
promiscuous sex—so therefore they can treat me any way they want. The guys can
leer at me and the girls can whisper about me and the teachers can pity me. Any
guy I might want to date doesn't want anything to do with me, because I'm
tainted goods. Guys who never gave me a second glance before suddenly know my
name and shove panties or condoms into my locker between classes!"
Her voice had thickened as she spoke, and by the time the torrent of words
dried up she was crying. Her head fell onto her folded arms and she sobbed. "I
just wanted something for me, Daddy," she said. "If I were a boy you wouldn't
be looking at me like I'd disappointed you. You might be mad because it was a
stupid idea, but you wouldn't be disappointed. I wouldn't've let you down."
"Oh, baby." He moved around to kneel beside her and wrapped an arm around her
shoulders. "It's all right, sweetheart. It's okay. It's my job as your father
to protect you, like you said. I hate that I didn't protect you from this. I
hate that your reaction was to go out and seduce a twenty-six-year-old man."
She raised her head and sniffled. Wiped at her eyes and blinked at him. "Dad,
don't you get it? It's what I wanted to do. Everyone expected Opie and me to be
together, so I went out with him. When you date a guy in high school, he
expects after a certain point that the relationship turns sexual. Let me
clarify: Opie never pressured me. High school culture did.
"Then I went out with TJ, and he did pressure me, and it's when I told him no
that he got violent. I broke up with him and he started this rumor and took my
choice away from me. It's a form of rape, Dad. It's sexual violence. I am being
robbed of my choice.
"So then the crap with Mr. C happened and yet again—my choice is taken away.
And so is his because the school board fired him over a lie told by a jealous
girl in a fit of petty rage. When I went over there to apologize to him I
looked at all the choices I'd made either because I was pressured to or because
it's what was expected of me, and I looked at all the choices that had been
taken away from me, and I just…I chose, Dad. I know it's not what you would
have had me do, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to let you down."
She shook her head and swiped a hand against her cheek. "But the entire world
let me down. I know that sounds melodramatic, but that's how I feel sometimes.
I did what I was supposed to do. Yes, I slept with my boyfriend, but as you
pointed out we'd been friends forever, and it was something we did as part of a
stable, monogamous relationship. I didn't sleep with the boy who treated me
bad, and I told him to take a walk when he got rough.
"I did what society tells me a good girl does: don't have sex with the bad boy.
Keep your head down and your legs closed. Don't let a boy pressure you into
doing something you don't want to. I did everything right, Daddy. Everything!
And I'm still being punished. I'm the Blowjob Queen and SanWa South's number
one whore. A man lost his job because of me. An entire forest of trees was
turned into printer paper because of me!"
"Okay," he said as she dissolved into another sob. "All right, Ollie, it's
okay." He pulled her against him and ran a hand over her hair. "I have no idea
what it's like to be you, baby. I've got no idea what you go through every
day."
"You're lookin' at it," she said through her tears. "I don't want a script
written for me. I don't want to force myself into some stupid mold: good girl
or bad girl, nerd girl or party girl. I'm not that. I'm not any of that. I'm
just me and I just want to make my own choices."
"I think that's what every teenager wants, pumpkin." He rose and scooted into
the chair next to her. "Is this still going on?" he finally said.
"No. He moved to Portland last month."
"Last month? How long—no. Never mind. I don't want to know." He shook his head,
and his expression was grave. "I understand how powerless and angry you must
feel. I'm just worried that this was the choice you made."
"I never said it was a smart choice. I fully recognize that. It's why I was
trying to keep it a secret."
"I know I work too much. I'm not around enough to spend time with you and help
you with all this bullshit."
"None of this is your fault, Daddy."
He lifted his hands in a shrug. "I was fooled by TJ Flanary. I'm the one who
encouraged you to go out with him when you seemed reluctant."
"If I'd said no he would've kept asking. Eventually something like this
would've happened anyway, just maybe on a smaller scale."
He took her hand in his and smiled at her, but there was sadness in his face
that he couldn't hide. "Olivia, you're a beautiful young woman. You're smart
and funny, and you have a lot to offer the world. I want you to get out of
Charming. I don't want you to fall in with some boy—one of those biker boys
like Jax or Opie—and get stuck here. You deserve more. Better."
It hurt that even her dad started off with you're beautiful. Wasn't being smart
and funny more important? Beauty fades.
She took a deep breath. "You know perfectly well Jax and Tara are like soul
mates or something, and Opie and I didn't work out, so that isn't really a
danger."
He hesitated. "What about Juice?"
"Juice…? Dad." She shook her head. "No. Just no."
He wasn't sure he believed her, but it wasn't like he could torture it out of
her. He sat back in his chair with a long sigh. "Okay, kiddo, here's what's
gonna happen. I'm not going to ground you because I wouldn't be around here to
enforce it anyway. You can keep your job at TM, though I have deep reservations
about it. I'm not going to forbid you from seeing your friends even though I
think they're a bad influence."
"Okay," she said, slowly. "What, then?"
"I'm taking the Cougar."
Her mouth fell open and color flooded her cheeks. "Dad, no! Come on. None of
this has affected my grades. I haven't skipped class since that day we talked
about it. I don't drink. I don't smoke or do drugs. I'm literally the only one
of my friends who hasn't been arrested. Like I told you, I'm on the Pill and we
used a condom. I'm a responsible person. You know that!"
"I do know that, Ollie. That's why I'm so surprised by this."
"You're punishing me for having sex? Even though it was with someone I knew and
trusted, and we used protection? I could've banged a complete stranger in a
cheap motel somewhere!"
He cringed. "Don't put that image in my head. I'm not punishing you for having
sex, sweetheart. I'm punishing you for making an irresponsible decision. You
can do better."
"So if it had been Juice, I'd get to keep my car?"
He was quiet a long time. So long that she started to fidget again. Finally he
said, "If you were dating Juice, would you bring him home to meet me?"
Her brow creased. "You've already met him, Dad."
"Olivia. Would you bring him home to meet me?"
"Yeah, of course I would. He's a nice kid."
"Okay. You brought TJ home. Opie. But you kept this thing with Mr. Collins a
secret from everybody. That should tell you something."
She slumped back in her chair and swallowed hard. "What if it had been a girl?"
"What?"
She flicked her fingers at the flyer. "What if that were a picture of me and a
girl. I probably wouldn't have brought her home because I have no clue how you
would react. But would you still be punishing me?"
He stared at her. "What are you trying to tell me, Olivia?"
She drew in a breath. This wasn't at all how she'd planned it (if she'd planned
it at all), but too late now. "I'm bisexual, Dad. I like boys and girls. Tara
offered to fix me up with a girl to help me get past all this crap, but I told
her no. But if I'd said yes, and we'd started dating, I don't know if I
would've brought her home to meet you."
He looked like he'd been hit with way too much information in way too short a
time. "Um." He scratched his eyebrow. "I'm not—I'm not sure what to say. No,
Ollie. I wouldn't punish you if it were a girl in the picture. But if Mr.
Collins had been Ms. Collins, then yeah. I'd still take the car. The point
isn't the sexual activity, honey: the point is your choice of partner."
He leaned a little closer. "Also, you're seventeen. Do you think, maybe, the
bisexual thing is—"
"If you say a phase, I swear to God." She shook her head. "Why does my age have
anything to do with it? By the time you were seventeen you knew you were
straight, right? You knew you liked girls?"
"Yeah, of course, but—"
"But nothing. It's fine to be seventeen and sure you're straight, but the
second you're seventeen and sure you're anything but, suddenly you're too young
and it's just a phase. I like kissing girls, Dad. I like kissing boys, too."
She looked away. "I hope it's okay with you. I mean, I'll still be that way
even if it's not, but I love you and I want it to be okay."
"This has been a very eye-opening conversation."
"To say the least," she said with a brief smile.
"Olivia, I love you no matter what. You're the most important thing in the
world to me. You know that, don't you?"
"Yeah, Dad, of course I do."
"Good." He looked like he was choking back tears of his own. "If you ever want
to bring a girl home, I'd be thrilled to meet her. I want you to be happy,
sweetheart."
"Then why are you taking my car away? Being with Mr. Collins didn't make
me unhappy."
He frowned. "That isn't the same thing as happy. You know that. You deserve
happiness, and you know perfectly well that sleeping with your twenty-six-year-
old teacher—former teacher—isn't the way to get it."
"You're the second person to tell me that."
"Then maybe you should listen," he said, his tone gentler than the words would
suggest.
"Yeah," she said. Her mouth moved in a sad grimace. "I guess I should."
He squeezed her hand again. "Go get started on your homework, pumpkin. I'll
make us spaghetti for dinner."
He made the most amazing from-scratch spaghetti sauce. Her eyes widened a
little. "Seriously?"
"Seriously. Just gotta run to the store for a few things. Keys?" He held out
his hand and she scowled at it.
"They're hanging by the door."
He dropped a kiss on the top of her head as he went by. "I love you, pumpkin."
"I love you too, Daddy." She spun around in her seat and he looked back with a
question on his brow. "Would it be okay if I invited someone for dinner?"
"What kind of someone?"
She hesitated. "A…friend. But, you know him, so…"
He grinned a little. "Juice Ortiz?"
"Why would you think—"
"Olivia."
She rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. "Yes, Dad. Juice Ortiz."
"Invite him." He paused in the doorway. "Find out his name, Ollie. I can't take
someone seriously who shares a nickname with food."
"You call me pumpkin!"
"Completely different."
He walked away, and she muttered something.
"What was that?"
"You know all about him from his mom, but you didn't ask his name?"
"I know his name. I just want to make sure you do!"
She opened her mouth, but before she could think of an adequate response she
heard the door close behind him.
===============================================================================
What had she been thinking? Why had she asked if she could invite Juice to
dinner? Why had she even wanted to invite Juice to dinner? She could just tell
her dad he couldn't come. He had a test tomorrow and had to study, or he
already had plans with his mom—there were a hundred reasons why he couldn't
accept a last-minute invitation.
Her dad knew him already. She had zero plans to date him. At least…hardly any
plans to date him. She didn't want to date anybody. She didn't want
to date Juice so much as have lots and lots of sex with him.
Except they'd tried that today and it hadn't worked so much. Well it had.
Spectacularly well. Until he'd turned into a boy and thought he could just
shove it in and she'd be all aflutter.
In fairness she'd been pretty damn aflutter before that happened. There was no
lack of fluttering where Ortiz was concerned. He just needed to learn a little
follow through.
She really, really hoped to be the one to teach him. Step one was recognizing
you have a problem, so hopefully he'd get that out of the way quickly and come
find her. She wasn't about to approach him on the topic, so unless he brought
it up they were strictly platonic from here on out. No more kissing. No more
touching. No more of those sexy, shivery rasping whispers in her ear when he—
Whoa there. That sort of thinking was not conducive to a platonic relationship.
If he decided to broach the subject, she wanted to be ready. It would require a
lot of time and effort. A lot of…
"Stop it," she muttered. "Focus."
It would be better if her dad thought she and Juice were spending so much time
together because they were dating rather than just…fucking. A lot. Hopefully.
Despite what he'd said earlier about not wanting to see her get involved with
anyone associated with SAMCRO (however tenuously), she knew he liked Juice
because he liked Ana. If he came over and acted like he had some sense her dad
might let up a little.
Okay. It was just dinner. With her father. No big deal. They'd met before.
She took a deep breath and dialed his number. Maybe he wasn't home. He could be
at TM this afternoon. She had decided to hang up when he answered.
"Hello?"
She opened her mouth but nothing came out. Oh God. She'd lost her mind.
"Um, hello? Anybody there?"
She shook her head. "Hey, hi. Sorry. It's Olivia."
"Oh." Even in that brief syllable she could hear the apprehension in his voice.
"What's, um. What's up?"
"I—wow, this is going to sound nuts and maybe I should've thought it through a
little more carefully. I mean, you probably think…I don't know what you might
think after today, but I—"
"Olivia," he said, gently. "What's up?"
"I was wondering if you'd like to come over tonight and have dinner with my dad
and me. He's making spaghetti and his sauce is amazing and I just thought it
might be nice if you came over and we hung out a little but without any sort of
weirdness or pressure about sex because I mean my dad will be there and—"
"Wow. Holy—wow. Breathe, Liv." He laughed, but it wasn't mean. More, kind
of…fond?
She buried her face in her hand. "I'm sorry. I sound like a crazy person.
Juice, would you like to come over tonight and have some of my dad's famous
spaghetti? My dad will be here, and I'm pretty sure he wants to get a look at
you when eggnog's not involved."
There was a pause. "Why would he want to get a look at me?"
"Someone slipped one of those flyers in our mail chute."
"Ohhh. Shit, Liv. I'm sorry."
"He was actually—like, surprisingly cool about it. He took the car, though."
"Fuck."
"Yeah."
"Explain to me again what that has to do with me coming to dinner."
She grinned. He was so dumb and cute. Not dumb in an unintelligent way, but in
a.… She let the thought trail away and cleared her throat. "He might have acted
cool, but he's going to be incredibly over protective for the next…I don't
know. Ever. Until I leave for college. Beyond, even. He's not gonna let me go
out with anyone he doesn't know well."
"Is that what we're doin', Liv? Going out?"
"No." She frowned. "I don't know. Maybe." She paced a small circle and rubbed
her forehead. "I can't really be your girlfriend, Juice. It's not what I want.
Not because of you—you're actually pretty great—but just because I can't be
someone's girlfriend and be the Blowjob Queen."
"You know I don't care about that shit, Olivia."
"I know, Juicy. I know. But I care."
"Okay," he said, his voice quiet. He cleared his throat, and when he spoke
again he sounded wary. "Look, about earlier? In the break room, I mean."
"I figured," she said, dryly.
"I talked to Dana."
"Oh." She wasn't sure how to take that. She rested her head against the wall
and waited him out.
"I guess—I guess maybe…I could learn a few things."
She laughed a little. "Are you asking me to teach you?"
He was quiet a long time. She thought he might've hung up, but finally he said,
"I don't know. What, um. What would that involve?"
Her voice went soft and low. "Why don't you come over for dinner, Ortiz, and
maybe we can talk about it after."
"You can't do that. That's not fair."
"Do what, sugar?" she murmured.
"Olivia!" he said, half a groan.
She giggled and took pity on him. "If you want to come, dinner's at seven."
"Yeah, okay," he said. "I really like spaghetti." He paused a second. Then,
"Wait. Do you mean, like, come over, or come?"
"I don't know, Juicy. But won't it be fun finding out?"
Chapter End Notes
     So I hope the conversation between Olivia and her dad helped
     illuminate a few things about why she's made the choices she's made,
     and exactly how upset she is. I've glossed over the latter a little
     bit, mostly bc she isn't the type to really show it. But obviously
     it's affected her deeply.
     Next chapter is actually really cute, so stay tuned. :)
     Also! Comments might just get you some of Olivia's dad's famous
     spaghetti sauce. I'm really hungry right now and spaghetti sounds
     amazing.
***** Hung the Moon *****
Chapter Summary
     Juice has dinner with Olivia and her father, and later he and Olivia
     work a few things out.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                     they say you're off (a bit confused)
                           but when the day is done
                               i'll be with you
                               i like your eyes
                             they say you're true
                          the others whisper and lie
                       Better Than Ezra, "Hung the Moon"
It was five till seven when the bell rang. Punctual. That was a point in his
favor.
"Oh, good, your boyfriend's here."
Olivia gave him a look. "Be nice, Daddy. We're just friends. Start talking like
that and you'll scare him off."
"How is that a bad thing?" he called as she disappeared down the hall.
"Be nice!"
She paused in front of the door and took a deep breath. It was just Juice. This
was no big deal. She opened the door with a smile on her face, and it faded
when she saw him. He was wearing black trousers and a white button down shirt.
She'd never seen him in anything but various iterations of cargo pants and t-
shirts, and for a moment she was at a loss for words.
"Hey," he said, and the sound of his voice snapped her out of it.
"Hi. You look—you look really nice."
"Oh." He glanced down with a small frown. "I just thought—I mean, your dad's
cooking and everything, so I thought maybe I should—"
"It's perfect," she said. She was suddenly self conscious of her ripped jeans
and plaid shirt. She ran a hand back through her hair and gestured for him to
come inside. "Um, I hope it goes without saying that as far as he's concerned
you've never been in our house before?"
"Yeah," he said, "of course."
"Great. I figured, I just..."
"Same page. Yeah, Liv. I know."
Their eyes met and held, and neither of them wanted to look away. She hooked
her thumbs over her back pockets. His lips curved in a slow smile; it started
small and then spread, and she felt her mouth go dry.
Wow. She hadn't really realized—
"Olivia?" her dad said from the kitchen.
"Yeah, Dad, we're coming." She gestured for Juice to follow her and opened the
hall closet. "Just so you know I'm taking care of it," she said.
"I can't believe you stole my jacket."
"I didn't steal it. I'm borrowing it. And you'll get it back." She grinned.
"Maybe."
"Um, yeah, about that—"
She pressed a finger to her lips. "Not now, Ortiz. We have to go say hello to
my father."
Juice made a face, but he followed her into the kitchen and stopped in the
doorway. "It smells amazing in here," he said.
She cast him a smile over her shoulder. "I keep telling Dad he should bottle
his sauce and sell it. We'd make a fortune."
"Ollie, grab the bread out of the oven, will you?" He stripped off the oven
mitt and handed it to her before he held out his hand to Juice. "Good to see
you again, Juice."
"You too, sir," he said as they shook.
"How's your mom?"
He ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "She's doin' better. Should
be back at work soon."
Olivia set the hot pan down on the stove and turned toward them. "Juice, is
your mom sick?"
"Uh…I mean, kind of. She was in the hospital a couple days, but like I said…"
He trailed off with a shrug.
She wanted to ask why he hadn't told her, but she knew: you get kinda mean when
you think people are getting too close. She flushed and looked away, suddenly
ashamed. She felt like a total jerk. "I'm sorry," she said, quietly. "I'm glad
she's doing better."
Juice could tell she was talking about more than his mom, and he accepted it
with a brief nod. We can talk about it later, his eyes said.
James cleared his throat. "All right! Who's hungry?"
"I'm starving," she said.
He handed her a stack of plates. "Then you can set the table."
"What can I do, Mr. Gable?"
He eyed him. "Make sure she doesn't break anything."
"Dad."
"Sorry, pumpkin. You drop things when you get nervous."
"I'm not—" She broke off and thrust a bundle of silverware at Juice. "Don't
listen to him," she said.
"He calls you pumpkin?" he said with a grin. "That's cute."
"Shut up, Ortiz."
"It's because of her hair, of course, but also because she was the roundest
baby you've ever seen. An adorable little pumpkin baby."
"Oh my God this is a nightmare."
"I'm allergic to pumpkin," Juice said.
"Oh good," her dad remarked, "I guess that means I don't have to worry about
you eating my daughter."
Juice choked and Olivia rubbed a hand against her forehead. "Nope, I was wrong.
I'm dead and this is actually Hell."
It went mostly okay after that. There was one rocky moment when Olivia's dad
brought up baseball and Juice said he was a Yankees fan. James was a dyed-in-
the-wool Braves fan, and after the high of the '95 World Series, the '96 loss
against the Yankees had been bitter. He had vowed to never forgive and never
forget.
"Dad," Olivia said as she forked up some pasta, "I don't think it's a
deficiency of character. He was born and raised in Queens. You were born and
raised in Atlanta. You're both products of your environment."
He leaned closer to Juice and lowered his voice in a conspiratorial whisper.
"You ever notice how her arguments get really logical when she doesn't have a
horse in the race?"
Juice laughed and Olivia glared at them both. "It's not fair to gang up on me."
She pointed at Juice. "Yankees fan." At her dad. "Braves fan."
"Nobody's perfect," Juice said with a grin.
She rolled her eyes and pretended to be absorbed in her food.
As the meal wound down Olivia got up to collect the plates, but James waved her
away. "Go on, pumpkin. You have company."
"You cooked," she said. "That means I clean up."
"I think we can make an exception tonight."
"Nah, it's okay," Juice said and jumped to his feet. "I'll help."
Her mouth quirked as he helped clear the table, and once they were in the
kitchen, she murmured in his ear, "Layin' it on a little thick, dontcha think?"
"Is it working?"
She added dish soap to the sink and shook her head. "Nope."
"Liar."
She nudged him with her shoulder and they both laughed.
James leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest, and watched
them. They squabbled a little over who would wash and who would dry, but once
that was decided they settled into a natural rhythm: Olivia soaped each plate,
rinsed it, and passed it to him. He would dry it and she would point to its
cabinet. He reached over her head to put things away, and by the time he was
done she had a new dish for him.
He didn't miss the way Juice looked at her, his dark eyes intent (on her face,
he was pleased to note) and his face practically glowing. She snuck
surreptitious glances at him when she thought no one was paying attention, and
her smile was a little different than he'd ever seen before.
He felt a pain around his heart. She wasn't his little girl anymore, with gaps
in her teeth and her hair in pigtails. She was growing up—grown, basically—and
maybe it was about time she dated someone who looked at her like she hung the
moon. And at least he was sixteen, not twenty-six.
It was too bad about the motorcycle.
===============================================================================
It was barely eight thirty when they finished the dishes, so Olivia and Juice
decided to go for a ride. Her dad had reminded them of her eleven o'clock
curfew, which prompted an eye roll from Olivia and a solemn promise from Juice.
He really was laying it on thick.
Apparently he'd learned a bit more about navigating San Joaquin County since
the night of the big game, because he drove without hesitation or questions.
The wind felt amazing, if a little cool, but his warm body acted as a shield
from the worst of it. She gripped his waist and enjoyed the way he smelled when
he wouldn't notice her doing it.
After fifteen minutes or so he pulled over and dismounted. Held out a hand to
help her and then didn't drop it once she was on her feet again.
"Where are we?" she said.
"Come on. Up here."
A skinny path snaked into the side of the hill, and she followed him up. When
they reached the top of the plateau there was an amazing view to their left and
a grove of fragrant pines to their right. The moon was thin, on its way out,
and it was dark under the tree boughs, but he didn't let go of her hand as he
led her. Finally he stopped and pointed up.
She gave him a funny look and then craned her neck. "Oh," she said, an awed
breath. There were a million stars on a dark blue velvet sky, maybe more stars
than she'd ever seen before. "Wow."
He grinned. "Yeah. Great, right? This is where I come to think a lot of the
time." He dropped to the ground and helped her down next to him. There was a
soft bed of pine needles, and he stretched out on his back.
He dug in his jacket pocket and held up a baggie. She gave a regretful shake of
her head. "If my dad smells it I'm dead. I don't have a lot of leeway with him
right now."
"No problem," he said and tucked it away. "Maybe not the best idea right here
anyway."
"Only you can prevent forest fires."
"I didn't know that was a real thing until I moved out here. I mean, you see
things about fires on TV, but that's not the same thing. It's wild. California,
I mean. It's like a whole different world."
She smiled and stretched out next to him, hooking an arm behind her head. "The
land of milk and honey. That's what they called California during the
Depression. People fled the Dust Bowl and came out here thinking they'd make
their fortune. They ended up picking oranges."
"That's cheerful."
"Yeah. But isn't that how it is? They left the old world to come here to live
in tenements and shovel horse shit. It's just…nothing is ever what the brochure
promises."
He cut his eyes her way. "Never knew you were such a pessimist."
"I wasn't. I mean, I haven't been. Before. But I don't know. Lately every time
I think things might end up okay, it all turns out shitty. Like, shittier than
I could've imagined."
She paused and fiddled with a sprig of pine. "You think I can put Blowjob Queen
on my college applications? People put Homecoming Queen and shit, right?"
He snorted out a laugh. "Pretty serious extracurricular."
"Exactly. It'll set me apart from the pack."
A silence fell. He reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers.
"You don't gotta pretend with me, Liv."
She brushed the heel of her hand across her cheek. "It's just so fuckin' lame.
I haven't said one word to TJ since the night we broke up, and he just won't
let it go. What's the point? I didn't tell anybody what happened. I haven't
even tried to deny the thing about the football team. So why keep torturing
me?"
"I don't know. I think some people—they just like to see people squirm, ya
know? Like, it's not even about revenge. It's just about causing pain. He wants
to make you hurt."
She choked out a laugh. "He's doing a really great job."
"Yeah, but he doesn't see it. You never act like it bothers you."
Her face creased. "So, what, I should have a meltdown in the middle of school?
Maybe then he'll be happy and leave me alone?"
"Nah, probably not. He'd try to make you have another, bigger meltdown. Then
another and another."
"God. I sure know how to pick 'em, don't I?"
"I don't know," he said, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. "I'm not so
bad."
"Hum. Who says I've picked you, Ortiz?"
"Your dad seems to think so."
"My dad doesn't know what he's talking about." She rolled over to face him and
propped her head on her hand. "Why didn't you tell me about your mom?"
He winced and wouldn't look at her. "I didn't think you'd want to know."
"Yeah," she said. "I guess I deserve that." She touched his shoulder until he
finally turned his head. "I'm sorry. Next time, tell me. I won't get mean. I
promise."
"Olivia—"
"I promise," she murmured. She closed the space between them and their mouths
met. Soft, sweet, easy; a warm, gentle brush. She pulled away and he grinned at
her.
"I was afraid after today you might not want to do that again."
"You handled it with surprising aplomb."
His brow furrowed. "Today, you mean? Because I stopped?"
"Not everybody would've."
"You told me to."
She lifted a brow. "Not everybody would've," she repeated, more firmly.
He flipped onto his side so that they were face to face. "I'm not TJ, Liv," he
said.
"I know that. And it's not just a TJ thing. He was just the most obvious about
it. Once it reached the stage we were, there are plenty of guys who wouldn't've
stopped."
"Those guys are assholes."
"And you're not, right? You're different."
"I didn't—I don't know about that. I just know that I never wanna hurt you. I
don't want you to ever feel like—I don't know. Like I expect something from
you. We're friends first, right? Or we're tryin' to be. If that's all you want,
then I'm okay with it."
She narrowed her eyes. "Really?"
He hitched a shoulder. "I didn't say happy about it. But okay with it."
"You surprise me, Ortiz."
He hesitated. "Could you just—could you explain why you told me to stop?
Because I thought things were goin' really great, but…"
"They were going great, but I wasn't ready for…okay, so, you know how I was
really wet, but I was still, um…pretty tight?"
He shifted a little. "That sorta rings a bell, yeah."
The dimple in her chin flashed, briefly. "That's because I wasn't turned on
enough. Look, that whole loose pussy thing guys are always talking about? It's
bullshit. Yeah, okay, maybe like right after you have a baby, but otherwise—no.
It's a muscle. Like a rubber band. It snaps back into shape."
He peered at her, clearly confused.
"I just mean that if a girl feels sort of loose, like it's easy to…move…then
you're doing a good job. If she's tight and you're kind of forcing it in a
little? You need to stop with the penis and revisit a few things before you try
again." She paused. "Which is not to say—I mean, sometimes—sometimes that's
okay. If that's what you're in the mood for. But this morning wasn't one of
those times."
"Oh," he said.
"It's not…it's kind of typical, so don't feel bad about it. There's a lot of
heat between us, and it makes me wanna go fast, too. I just—I don't want to get
distracted by all that and forget that, hey, I'd like to actually come."
He cleared his throat. "I'd like that, too."
She grinned. "I know. And I know that's something that can happen. You know,
you're like…cookie dough."
He blinked at her. "Cookie…dough?"
"Yep. I think you just need a little time and you'll be cookies. And everybody
likes cookies."
"A lot of people like cookie dough."
"Yeah," she said with a grin, "but it can give you salmonella."
"Wow, Liv. That's some metaphor."
She laughed and kissed his nose. "You're really cute."
He shot her a skeptical look. "Is everything you say calculated to make me feel
like a dumbass?"
"No, sugar. Just, like, eighty percent of it."
"Uh huh."
"So," she said and poked him in the shoulder, "how did your chat with Dana go?"
He fell onto his back with a scowl. "I asked her if she was faking."
"Cut right to the chase. What did she say?"
He shifted and glanced at her. Away. "Not every time, but yeah. Sometimes. A
lot of the time, I guess."
She pressed her lips to his shoulder. "Don't feel bad, Juicy. Were you taught
about a woman's orgasm in health class?"
"No," he said. "Just a guy's, because, ya know. Babies."
"Right. Babies. We're taught that sex is bad and shameful, and
the most shameful thing is a girl enjoying it. A movie with a sex scene will
get an R rating, but if it shows a woman's orgasm it's instant NC-17. Porn is
designed almost exclusively for men: men's fantasies, men's orgasms, men's good
times."
He frowned. "There's porn that shows women getting off."
"Yeah. And I'm sure they're not faking it when some dude with a twelve inch
dick is fucking the bejeezus out of them. Because God knows bigger outranks
subtlety every time."
"Um. It does?"
She swatted his shoulder. "Of course it doesn't! The vibrator I use is about
six inches long and only about the circumference of a nickel. And it does the
job just fine, thanks."
His eyes went big. "You use a vibrator?"
Her voice softened and her lips moved closer to his ear. "Not always. Sometimes
I use my fingers. Or the detachable shower head."
"Holy shit," he breathed.
"TMI?"
"Nooo," he said. "Just not really sure how to process that."
She ran a finger down his arm. "Is that something you think about, Juicy? Me,
getting myself off? Because I have to admit I think about you."
"You…you do?"
She giggled. His face was red and he could barely lie still. She could see the
shape of his erection against his nice trousers. "Does it surprise you to know
I masturbate?"
"Well. No. I guess not. I mean, you obviously enjoy sex."
"I do. And until…um…recently, that was basically the only way I could come."
He thought that over a minute. "So is that why you were…I mean, why you and…?
Because he made you come?"
"That was the long and short of it, yeah."
"Seriously?"
"I told you it was just sex."
"Yeah, but—"
She let out a huff and rolled her eyes. "You aren't going to get weird, are
you?"
"No. I just didn't know girls did that sorta thing."
"That's because it's considered slutty. A guy can have a sex-only type
relationship and it's almost expected. A woman does it and she's cheap."
He turned toward her again, his brow furrowed thoughtfully. "Is that what you
want with us? Just sex?"
"I like being your friend. And I like—the way you make me feel. But I told you
I can't be your girlfriend. I'm not interested in anything romantic."
He waved a hand around at the trees. "Is this considered romantic?"
Her mouth curved. "Borderline." She paused and rested a hand against his chest.
"Look, Juice, I want us to be clear. If you're not into it, that's okay. I
won't be offended. You might want something different. I told you the night of
Opie's birthday that I like you, and I meant it, but if you want to just be
friends without the benefits, that's fine."
"Would it be weird if I said I wasn't into it?"
"No, Juicy. It's your choice. I'm offering; you can decline."
"So it wouldn't be weird if I said I'm totally and completely into it?"
She laughed. "You're an idiot, Ortiz."
"Yeah, yeah. I think you don't want to be my girlfriend just so you can keep
saying that."
She pushed him onto his back and moved to straddle his hips. "You don't think
I'd say that even if I were your girlfriend?"
"Nope," he said. He rested his hands on her thighs. "You'd have to be nice to
me."
"That is me being nice. Surely Ope and Jax warned you."
"They did, actually," he said. "They said it's better not to think of you as a
girl."
She looked down at her chest. "Hum."
"I don't think they meant that," he said with a quirk of his mouth. "I think
they meant don't…fall for you or anything."
"That's good advice, actually," she said, but her voice was soft and, he
thought, sad.
He picked at a string dangling from one of the holes in her jeans. Traced his
finger in a circle over the exposed skin. "Can I ask you a really personal
question? Personal but not about sex?"
"Um." Her brows drew together, briefly. "Yeah, Juicy. Shoot."
He said it in a rush before he could chicken out. "How did your mom die? I
mean, what happened? I know it was a wreck and there was a drunk driver,
but…this is a stupid fucking question. What was it like?"
"Ahh…" She glowered and shifted her weight.
"Sorry. Is that too personal?"
"No, it's okay. I'm just trying to think how to answer." She rested her palms
against his stomach, but there wasn't anything sexual in the touch at all. It
was more like she needed something to ground her.
"It was my thirteenth birthday, and we were on our way to the mall in Stockton.
Girls' day out, no dad or anything. Some drunk ran a red-light and hit my side
of the car. Knocked us into a telephone pole." Her tone was quiet and matter-
of-fact, like she'd repeated it a dozen times.
He winced. "Ouch."
"Yeah. I broke a couple of ribs. My hip. Femur. They had to operate, so they
had me knocked out a while. And then they waited…" Her voice thickened and she
cleared her throat. "They waited about a week before they told me. They said
she'd been killed instantly."
"Is that the scars on your thigh?" He'd noticed in the break room today, but
he'd figured that wasn't the best time to comment on them. She rarely wore
shorts, and when she wore skirts much shorter than the knee she usually wore
tights or high socks like she'd had on today.
"Yep," she said. "Sorry. They're kinda gross."
"Gross? No, don't be stupid. They're fine." He wanted to kiss them. Run his
tongue along them and—
"I might get a tattoo to cover them one day. Not the ones down near my knee,
but up here." She motioned to her hip and upper thigh. "And maybe on up my
ribs."
He blinked, the distracting images in his mind suddenly replaced by different
ones. "That would, uh. That would be sexy, I think."
She flashed a teasing grin. "Sexy, huh?"
He ran his hand up her side, where the tattoo would be. "Really sexy."
She leaned down to capture his mouth with hers. Slicked her tongue across his
lower lip and nibbled a little. "You tryin' to say I'm not sexy now?"
"You're the sexiest girl I've ever met," he said with complete honesty.
She sat up abruptly, and her face was clouded with disbelief. "Are you just
saying that because I'm on top of you?"
"Olivia, come on. You gotta learn to have some faith. Stop bein' so
suspicious."
"I'm suspicious by nature."
"I've noticed."
She chewed on her lip a little. "Juice, is your mom really okay?"
"Um…" He looked away. She gently turned his chin back. There were tears in his
eyes and suddenly she felt like absolute shit.
"She's really sick, isn't she?"
He gave a wordless nod and she dropped down to lie next to him.
"Tell me," she murmured.
"Cancer," he said. The word stuck in his throat and he had to cough past it and
try again.
"Oh, Juicy," she said. She tugged on his shoulder until he turned to face her
and she wrapped her arms around him. "Have you told anybody?"
He shook his head. She ran her fingers around the curve of his skull and down
the back of his neck. Pressed a kiss to his temple.
"I'm sorry, baby," she whispered. "What do the doctors say?"
He shrugged and sniffled. "Chemo. I guess they can do surgery? It's breast
cancer. They seem pretty hopeful, but would they tell me if they weren't?"
"I don't think they'd straight up lie."
"No?"
"I think they'd be realistic. They wouldn't want to give you false hope, but if
they're gonna try chemo and surgery and all that then there's a good chance she
could be okay. It's real bad when they say shit like, do you have your affairs
in order? and how do you feel about Tahiti? It might be a good time to go."
He snorted out a watery laugh. "You can be really nice when you aren't trying
to act so tough," he said.
"Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain. And, seriously, you're the one
who said you'd have to take a number to have sex with me."
"Not really my finest moment."
"I'm sorry I slapped you," she said.
"I deserved it."
"You did, but I'm still sorry."
Their eyes met, and a silence fell between them. She'd braided her hair before
they got on his bike. He reached behind her to pull the band out and ran both
hands through it. The red-gold strands looked dark in the faint moonlight. The
scent of mint mingled with the pine and he dipped his head to bury his face in
her hair.
"You smell so good it makes me crazy," he mumbled.
"You're not so bad yourself," she said, softly.
He cupped her face with one hand and kissed her long and slow. As the heat
started to build he tugged her a little closer. Her hands were braced against
his chest, and she could feel the warmth of his skin through the crisp cotton
of his shirt. Her body was soft where it brushed his, and he was glad they were
both so completely and fully dressed. If she were in a skirt…
"Olivia, listen," he said when they parted. He was out of breath, just a bit.
"I want to have sex with you. Maybe as bad as I've ever wanted anything in my
life. But I want—I want…I want to make sure you enjoy it. Like,really enjoy
it."
"Okay," she said, amusement tilting her mouth.
"You said you'd teach me if I wanted to learn."
"I did say that, didn't I?"
"Uh huh. Did you mean it?"
"I did."
"So what—what does that mean, exactly?"
She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. "I'm not sure. I guess we'd just
have to play it by ear." She paused to smile at him. "I can tell you it'll take
a while."
"I'm not that bad, am I?"
"No, that's not why." She pushed him onto his back and straddled him again.
Started to undo the buttons of his shirt.
"Um."
She bent her head and planted a kiss on the exposed skin. "Yes?"
"Why—uh, I mean…why?"
She giggled. "You're so adorable when you're all flustered." She scooted lower
and tugged the hem free from his trousers. Unfastened the remaining buttons and
kissed his tummy.
"Kind of—hard to concentrate—when you're—what are you doing?"
"I don't know. What would you like me to do?"
Her eyes were steady on his, but he couldn't see their color in the dark. Her
lashes were long enough to cast shadows across her cheeks as she looked down
again. He lifted his hand to touch her face. Rubbed his thumb across her full
mouth.
"You don't gotta do anything, Liv," he said, his voice quiet.
Her lips quirked. "It'll take a while because I want to enjoy it. And,
honestly, I think you'll enjoy it too. After all, anticipation is at least half
the fun." She unbuckled his belt and he watched her with wide eyes.
"It is?"
"Yep. Like right now. You're wondering what I'm going to do. Am I going to
touch your cock, or maybe just tease you? Or will you get really lucky and I
suck it? The anticipation's killing you."
"You don't—that would be—amazing, but you don't have to if you don't want."
"You keep saying that like it's news to me." She slid her hands down his pants
and squeezed him through his boxer briefs. "I will never, at any point in our
acquaintance, do something I don't want to do. I want you to feel the same way.
If you want to say no to something, do it. We're in this together."
"Okay," he said on a breath. "I like the sound of that."
"I thought you might," she said. She sighed. "I would feel kinda bad if I left
you all hot and bothered twice in one day."
"You did—promise you wouldn't—be mean anymore."
Her grin turned mischievous. "I did, didn't I?" She freed him from his
underwear and wrapped her hand around his shaft.
He let out a soft groan. "Fuck, Livvie!"
"What did you do after I left his morning?" She ran the pad of her thumb around
the tip in a circle. "Did you just pull your pants up and go about your day?"
He wagged his head back and forth.
She flicked her tongue across the glans. "Tell me," she murmured. A drop of
pre-cum had already appeared at the tip, and she lapped it up.
"Uhh…I, uh—jerked off—thinkin'—fuck, babe, that's—thinkin' about you."
"Mmm." She swirled her tongue around and around the ridge without closing her
lips around him. "What were you thinking?"
He whimpered at the feel of her breath on his super-sensitive skin. "What if
you—came back in. What—would you do?"
She slid the head of his cock between her lips. "Mmhhmm," she said with him in
her mouth.
He crushed fists full of pine needles, and their spicy fragrance filled the
air. "Thought—you might use your hand—or, or your mouth."
She sucked him in a little deeper. Wiggled her tongue against his shaft.
"Fuck! Shit oh God, Livvie!" He panted and writhed a little. Finally, "Then I
thought—maybe you'd just sit down—take off your panties—"
She stroked his balls with one hand as she moved up and down on his cock with
long, slow sucks.
"And make yourself come…while I watched…and you watched me."
She lifted her head and raised a brow. Her hand replaced her mouth, and she
squeezed him with her fingers. Her lips were swollen and shiny, dark in the
faint moonlight. "You liked that idea?" she said.
"Uh huh."
She flashed a pleased smile and brushed her slick mouth against the head. "You
wanna come, baby?"
"Please, Livvie. Please!"
"Gonna make it quick, okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah, that's good," he said with a desperate nod.
She slid her hand down to grip the base and sucked the head into her mouth
again. She moved them in unison: her lips and tongue working the glans, her
fingers caressing the shaft. He moaned, his head thrown back and his body bowed
with tension. She grinned around him and sucked harder. Moved faster, up and
down his spit-slicked cock.
"Fuck yes that's—just like that, baby, oh God that's so fuckin' good I can't—"
Her lips were tight around him, her tongue wiggling and swirling, her hand
pumping. So hot and wet, silk and velvet and maybe the best fucking thing he'd
ever felt he'd had no idea something could feel so fucking good—
"Liv, can't—I'm gonna—!"
She made a low hum of pleasure that he felt like a buzz straight down to his
balls. He couldn't hold back any longer, and with a groan and a cry he came.
Not quite as hard as that morning, but close, and she swallowed every drop as
he jerked in her mouth again and again.
One last flick and she pulled away. He fell back and blinked up at the sky. She
stretched out to lay beside him, and he turned to kiss her. He could taste his
come on her lips; he'd had no idea that would be such a turn on.
"Sorry about that," she said. "Next time it'll last a lot longer; promise."
He gaped at her. "You're…apologizing? For that?"
"Not my best work. I am the Blowjob Queen, after all; a standard must be
upheld."
He rolled his eyes. "Don't start that again."
"I'm not completely joking. Obviously I didn't go down on the football team,
but I do…" She bit her lip and glanced away. "I enjoy using my mouth."
"Hhhmm." He kissed her again, his tongue sliding against hers. "You're never
gonna hear me complain about that, Liv."
"Juice—" She suddenly looked worried; vulnerable and afraid.
"What's the matter?" he said.
"I'm not easy. I've had sex with three guys, and you know two of them. The
other one was just—" She waved a hand. "I saw a chance and I took it, and then
it wasn't worth it."
"I don't think you're easy," he said. She was a bundle of contradictions, this
girl. He frowned. "Obviously one of them is, uh—Mr. C. Who—?" His eyes widened
a little. "Opie?"
"Good guess."
"Hum. I guess I'm not surprised." He shrugged and fixed his pants. "Asia and
Dana for me. But you knew that already."
Her lips twisted. "And were they…I mean, was it…good?"
He chuckled. "It didn't suck, but if you're asking if it compared to anything
we've done, the answer is no. You make me nuts, Liv. Never felt anything quite
like it."
She smirked in satisfaction. "Good," she said. She stood up and brushed pine
needles off her clothes. "Come on, Ortiz. You better get me home before curfew
or our little experiment will be dead before it's even really begun."
He scrambled to his feet and buttoned his shirt. They picked their way down the
path, and twenty minutes later he parked in front of her house. She hopped off
his bike and handed him the helmet.
"I had a good time tonight, Juicy," she said with a smile.
He snorted out a laugh. "Yeah, Liv. Me too."
"I didn't just mean that, but it was fun too."
There was a quiet moment while they watched each other. She hadn't rebraided
her hair, and it was wild and windblown down her back. Her cheeks were pinked
from the cold, and she looked so pretty he couldn't help but grin at her. She
smiled back, because his was contagious, and a tiny voice in the back of her
head wondered if this whole thing wasn't a grave miscalculation.
"You need a ride to school? Since your dad took the car."
"Nah," she said. "He'll let me drive his truck. Thanks, though." Fuck that
voice. Things didn't always turn out shitty, and he was pretty great when he
wasn't fucking it up. She leaned closer and kissed him, long and sweet. "See
you tomorrow?"
"Yep," he said. "Night."
"Night, Juicy." She hurried up the front path and inside, and once he saw the
door shut behind her he drove away, still grinning like an idiot. He might even
have been whistling.
Chapter End Notes
     Part of me wants to shake some sense into Olivia and the other part
     of me's like, "it's okay bb I understand!"
     Comments? Thoughts? Opinions? Jot em down in the little box down
     there and hit the button! :D
***** Feeling *****
Chapter Summary
     A little comeuppance. A little sadness. A little fun. This chapter's
     got it all, really.
Chapter Notes
     I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story. Let's hope that continues,
     yeah? :) (that sounded vaguely threatening. sorry.)
                   and honey please don't stop your talking
                           'cause there's a feeling
                             won't leave me alone
                         David Gray, "Nightblindness"
It had been three days since the incident with the flyers, and Olivia was tense
with waiting. It had been quiet, enough so to make her nervous. Maybe Presbo
had finally cracked some heads? Or maybe people were just over-saturated with
this nonsense and had decided she didn't make a fun target anymore.
Neither of those options felt quite right, though. And if the latter were true,
it would probably only prompt TJ to come up with something new.
"I miss the Cougar," Tara said as she climbed up into the truck.
Olivia snorted. "Me too, kid."
"Did he say how long he's gonna keep it, or is it an indefinite thing?"
She hitched a shoulder. "God knows. Probably until I leave for college—if I
manage not to have sex between now and then."
"Good luck with that," Tara said with a snicker. "Any news on the Juice Ortiz
front?"
Olivia had told her about the other night, including the details of their
conversation. Except, that is, the stuff about Juice's mom, because Olivia was
pretty sure he wanted to keep that a secret. Now she shook her head.
"Dad got the guilts, I guess, and decided to take the rest of the week off
work. I've been stickin' close to home."
"When does he go back?"
"Tomorrow. He wanted the weekend, too, but you have to ask for those further in
advance."
"Soo I guess that means school's back in session Friday night," Tara said.
Olivia rolled her eyes. "Why don't you pay attention to your own love life and
leave mine to me?"
"You make a mess of your love life when left to your own devices, Gable."
She scowled but conceded the point. She pulled into her parking spot and the
growling engine subsided into quiet. "Ahh," Olivia said, a noise of relief.
"You know, the Cougar's pretty fucking loud, too."
"A hacking cough is not the same as my baby's throaty purr," she said,
offended.
"That was amazingly sexual."
Olivia shrugged and hopped out. "If men can talk about their cars like they
wanna fuck 'em, so can I."
"Hey, Gable!" a voice said from across the lot. She turned her head to find the
speaker: it was that grabby guy from her chem lab. "Nice ride, baby!" he
called.
Her mouth twisted. "Funny, from what I hear that's what Tig Trager said to your
mom just the other night."
"What the—?" He started toward her, but his buddy grabbed him by the jacket and
pulled him toward the building.
"Holy shit, Ollie," Tara said as she muffled a laugh.
"Yeah, I'm kinda done. At this point I sort of hope they fuck with me."
The guys' motorcycles rumbled in, all in a group, and kids scattered. Tara
planted a smacking kiss on Jax, and Olivia and Juice shared quiet smiles.
"Where's your girl, Winston?" Olivia said.
He grimaced. "Sick," he said.
"Uh oh," said Tara. "Hope she's okay."
"I think it's just a cold. If one of you guys could take her her work that'd be
awesome."
"Sure, I'll do it," Olivia said. "I'm off this afternoon."
By that time they were inside. These days she braced herself before walking in,
afraid she'd find the halls wallpapered with her private life again, but as it
had been all week, everything seemed normal.
Tara hooked her free arm through Opie's. "Walk me to my locker, boys. I do
declare I might need help carryin' all my big heavy books," she said in a thick
Southern accent. Then, over her shoulder, "See you in homeroom, Ollie."
Olivia's mouth quirked. "Subtle, Knowles," she muttered. She watched them go
with a shake of her head.
Juice cleared his throat and she pivoted toward him. "Hi," he said.
Her expression softened into a smile. "Hey."
"I guess holding hands in the hall would be considered romantic, huh?"
She nudged him with her shoulder and he fell in step beside her. "Would sort of
blow our cover."
"Yep. So I guess I'll have to settle for checkin' you out when I think you're
not looking."
"You and everybody else," she said, but she grinned as she said it, and it
lacked the sting of most days.
He leaned against the locker next to hers and watched her work the combination.
"I miss you," he said, softly.
Color touched her cheeks. "Me too," she murmured. She cut her eyes up at him.
"Come over tomorrow after school. My dad will be back at work."
"Yeah?" he said on a breath.
"Mmhhmm."
"You need me to bring anything?"
She gave him a weird look. "Like what?" she said. She opened her locker. "A…"
Her voice trailed off as an avalanche of condoms poured out. A rueful smile
twisted her mouth. "Notebook?" she finished.
TJ, John, and a few of their buddies had been watching from across the hall,
and now they burst out in a chorus of sniggers. "Oh, look," TJ said. "Olivia's
got her day's supply of rubbers ready to go."
Juice stiffened, but Olivia glanced at him and he relaxed a little. She knelt
and retrieved one of them. It had a black label, and big gold letters
proclaimed MAGNUM and XXL. She sauntered toward TJ and held it up between two
fingers.
"What's the matter, sweetie?" she said. Her eyes raked him from head to toe,
and her lips curved in a sweet smile. "Couldn't find any in your size?"
John cackled, and the other guys joined in with nervous chuckles. TJ's face
began to turn red.
She leaned a little closer and her voice dropped to an intimate caress. "Don't
worry, baby. I know some well-hung biker boys who can make good use of these."
He went crimson, and he moved so fast she didn't have a chance to dodge. His
fingers closed around her throat. He spun her around and shoved her against the
lockers hard enough to knock her breathless. Stars appeared in front of her
eyes when he squeezed.
"Whoa, man!" John said. "That's not—"
But then Juice was there. He wrenched TJ by the shoulder, and his grip around
her neck loosened. Juice slugged him across the mouth and TJ spun away. Olivia
drew in hard gulps of air through her aching windpipe. A crowd had already
formed around them, and she felt their eyes like prodding needles.
"Juice, stop!" she wheezed. "John, get TJ!"
"You fuckin' her, Ortiz?" TJ said with a sneer. "She like Puerto Rican cock
now?"
He swung his fist and caught Juice in the jaw. He staggered but recovered fast.
Juice yanked him closer by the shirt and punched him again. "Yeah, asshole. I
guess she does."
John wrapped both arms around TJ's shoulders from underneath and hauled him
back before he could hit Juice again. "You'll get cut, man. He ain't worth it."
The school had a zero tolerance policy for athletes fighting: if they got
caught brawling on school grounds they'd get cut from that semester's sports.
TJ played lacrosse in the spring.
"I always knew you were a whore, Olivia," TJ spat. "I just didn't know you were
a dirty whore."
Blood streamed from his nose and stained his teeth. His lip was split and his
eye was already beginning to swell. He looked feral and furious, and even John
was giving him the side-eye.
"Must sting, TJ," she said, pitching her voice so that it carried over the
crowd. "I mean, I've fucked so many guys, but the closest I got to your tiny
little prick was when I kneed you in the balls the night I dumped you."
He surged against John's hold, and he might have broken free, but a voice
interrupted them.
"All right! That is enough!"
Presbo elbowed his way through the crowd and glared around at them. "Ortiz,
Flanary, Patric, Olivia—my office. Now!"
John winced and let go of TJ. "We're fucked," he muttered under his breath.
They trooped that way amidst whistles and catcalls that ceased at one strong
scowl from Presbo. Olivia let her arm brush Juice's as they walked, and his
fingers curled to caress her palm. She ducked her head to hide a smile.
Olivia had to wait in the outer office while TJ, John, and Juice got the third
degree from Presbo. She fidgeted in her seat and strained to hear what was
going on behind the closed door. It was hopeless, though, especially when his
assistant fired up the electric pencil sharpener. She had plenty of experience
thwarting eavesdropping students.
Olivia rolled her eyes and slumped back in the chair. If TJ got cut from
lacrosse Olivia might never hear the end of it. What would he do? She thought
he'd lost a few points today: a lot of the crowd had seen how he grabbed her,
and her last comment about kneeing him had made waves.
The office door opened and Presbo waved her inside. "Olivia, if you please."
She rose and wiped her palms on her jeans. He shut the door behind her, and the
office felt tiny with the five of them filling it. TJ was clearly furious;
Juice looked annoyed; John seemed worried.
Mr. Presbo walked around to sit behind his desk and fixed her with a patient
look. The desk was almost entirely clear except for two things that made her
wince when she saw them: a small pile of condoms, and a flyer that was all too
familiar.
"I'm hearing conflicting accounts of what happened in the hall. I'm sure you
can understand how difficult that makes my job. I'm hoping you can shed light
on a few things."
The look TJ gave her was pure poison. There was a challenge in his eyes: he was
daring her to rat him out. She glanced at Juice, and he offered a brief,
supportive smile.
Olivia had no pangs of conscience as she made her decision.
"Someone stuffed a bunch of condoms in my locker. Not the first time, but there
usually aren't quite so many." She cleared her throat around the pain and
hitched a shoulder. "I made a comment to TJ, and he took it personally. Grabbed
me around the neck and threw me against a locker."
Presbo frowned. "Is this true, Theodore?" He never used nicknames for anyone,
and it was weird to hear him call TJ by his full name.
"I never laid a hand on her."
Olivia smiled. "The bruises on my neck would beg to differ."
He motioned her closer and examined her neck with a critical eye. "Hhmm," he
said. "That's going to be nasty in an hour or so. Go see the nurse when we're
done here. What happened next?"
"Um." She frowned a little. "John tried to stop him, but then Juice pulled him
off me and hit him in the face. They threw a few punches, and then John grabbed
TJ."
"Is that how you remember it, Juan Carlos?" he said to Juice.
She smothered a smile. Well. One mystery solved.
"That's what I tried to tell you," Juice said. He had a bruise starting at the
corner of his mouth, but otherwise it was clear TJ had gotten the worst of it.
"He attacked Olivia and I was stoppin' him."
"He hit me first!" TJ said.
Presbo cast him a look of distaste. "It sounds like you hit Olivia first." He
paused and steepled his fingers. "Gentlemen, I am aware of the issues here, and
I'm only going to say this once: it's done. Do you hear me, Theodore? Juan
Carlos? No more. You, Theodore, will quit harassing Olivia. No more
prophylactics in her locker. No more—" He made a gesture toward the flyer.
"Whatever happened, it's over and done. Score settled. Are we clear?"
"Mr. Presbolowski—"
He made a sharp gesture to cut TJ off. "Are. We. Clear?"
"Yes, sir," Juice mumbled.
"Crystal," John said with a wide-eyed nod.
"Theodore?" Presbo prompted when TJ stayed quiet.
"Fine. Whatever. We're clear."
"Good. I'm glad to hear it. Olivia, thank you for your assistance. Go see Ms.
Parker now."
She opened her mouth to protest—she wanted to know what he was going to do to
TJ and Juice—but one look stopped her. "Thank you, sir," she said and spun on
her heel.
When the door shut, he glanced at John. "You may go as well. Two days' after
school detention, but otherwise I think you've learned your lesson, Mr.
Patric."
"Yes, sir," he said. "Thank you, Mr. Presbolowski." He bolted from the office,
feeling lucky to still be on the lacrosse team. Presbo could easily have cut
him.
The principal cleared his throat and eyed Juice and TJ. "Well, gentlemen, what
should I do with you two?"
TJ started to speak, but he held up a hand. "That was a rhetorical question,
Theodore. As you both know—even you, Juan Carlos, despite being new here—I
don't tolerate fighting at my school. I'm concerned about your behavior
regarding Olivia Gable, Theodore, and while I appreciate Juan Carlos'
intentions, the fact is there were better ways to handle it."
"Bitch deserved worse," TJ muttered.
Presbo lifted a brow. "A young man with that sort of attitude is not someone I
believe should be representing this school. You're hereby banned from all
sports teams, and disqualified from any school honors such as Prom Court,
valedictorian, or senior superlatives."
TJ spluttered. "Mr. Presbolowski, you can't do that! I'm a senior—"
"I'm well aware, Theodore. As such you've already been accepted to college,
haven't you?"
"Yeah, but—"
"And you're hardly in need of financial aid." He waved TJ's objections away.
"You're suspended for two weeks, and if I hear one more word, one more whisper,
of you bothering Olivia Gable—or any young lady at this school—again, you're
expelled. I don't care who your father is, young man."
Someone knocked on the door, and Presbo called for them to enter. Paul
Castillo, the school security guard stepped into the office.
"Ah, good, just in time. Please escort Mr. Flanary here to his locker to gather
whatever he needs, and then see him to his car. Thank you, Paul."
TJ was speechless, incandescent with fury. "When I tell my father about this,
you'll be done here, Presbo. Career over."
He blinked mildly. "Do you think you or your father scare me, Theodore? I
walked a beat in LA for ten years before I went back to school to get my
master's in education. My best day saw worse than you."
Castillo grinned and gestured for TJ to proceed him. "After you, Flanary," he
said.
Juice let out a long breath as they disappeared. "That was cool," he said.
"Don't think you're off the hook, Mr. Ortiz. I meant what I said about how you
handled the situation: it was poorly done."
"I'm not sorry. I'd punch him again if you gave me half a chance. He's been
beggin' for it since before break."
Presbo made a low noise that might have indicated agreement. "Be that as it
may, I'm going to have to suspend you as well. One week, effective
immediately."
Juice's head dropped, but it was better than he'd been expecting.
"I hope I don't have to call Mr. Castillo back to collect you."
"No, sir," he said. "I'm goin'."
"Very good. Oh, and Juan Carlos? Please make sure Jackson Teller and Harry
Winston understand the consequences of continuing this conflict. I won't be so
lenient next time."
"Yes, sir," he said, keeping his eyes down. "Can I go now?"
"You're dismissed. I'll see you this time next week, Mr. Ortiz."
Juice gave a nod and fled without a backwards glance. He was only suspended for
a week. That was bad enough, because his mom was gonna be real mad, but TJ was
out for two. Plus kicked off lacrosse and all that other shit. Despite Presbo's
threats to expel him if he messed with Olivia again, Juice knew TJ wouldn't be
able to just let his slide.
He had to get word to Jax and Opie to keep an eye on her, because security
guard or no, Juice didn't trust TJ as far as Olivia could throw him.
===============================================================================
"A week, huh?" she said with a frown of commiseration.
"Yeah." He shrugged. "Coulda been worse. TJ got two, and banned from—like,
everything."
"He's gonna be pissed as fuck."
"I know. That's why I don't want you goin' anywhere alone. He took that
picture, or he had someone take it. He knows your schedule and he obviously
knows your car."
Olivia had gone by Donna's to drop off her homework, and she'd swung by TM to
pick Juice up after his shift. His mom had taken away the motorcycle for the
length of his suspension; it probably would've been worse, but when Juice told
her what had been going down with TJ she relented a little.
Now they were sitting in Olivia's dad's old blue pickup at the lookout spot
where she and Tara liked to smoke. It was on SAMCRO-owned land, so you could
usually count on it to be deserted. Dusk had fallen, and the stars were
starting to appear in the sky. She had to get home soon for dinner—and get
Juice home, because suddenly he had a curfew—but they had a little while
longer.
"What're you gonna do, Ortiz?" she said, her mouth curving in a teasing smile.
"Take up residence in my bedroom closet?"
His head tilted. "There's an idea."
"Hmm. I'm sure a peeping tom charge would be a fantastic addition to your
permanent record."
"I'm sixteen. Juvie records are sealed."
She scooted along the bench seat and he draped his arm around her. She leaned
into him, her head fitting perfectly into that flat plane where chest started
to become shoulder. His hand dangled in front of her, and she lifted it to get
a closer look. His knuckles were raw and scraped.
"I'm not gonna apologize, Liv," he said. He freed himself from her grip and ran
a finger down her bruised neck. "He hurt you. What if you hadn't been in
public? If he loses control like that in the fuckin' hall in front of half the
school—" He broke off and clenched his jaw.
"Juicy, it's okay. I'm not gonna ask you to. I hate that you're suspended, but
seeing him get punched in the face was like…it made my year. I'm not kidding. I
had no idea how bad I wanted that to happen until it did."
His mouth quirked. "Yeah. I know that feeling."
"You've been wanting to hit him for a long time."
He grinned and turned her face up to his. "That's not what I meant."
"Careful, Ortiz," she murmured. "One might construe this as a romantic moment."
"I think I'll take the chance," he said. His mouth closed over hers and she
pressed a little closer. The kiss deepened, and he made a soft noise of
pleasure as her tongue brushed his.
She pulled away with a reluctant sigh. "Sorry, babe. Gonna have to take a
raincheck on second base. If I'm late for dinner my dad might have some sort of
fit."
He settled back against the seat and buckled his seatbelt. "Any chance on
second base tomorrow night?"
"Maybe," she said. "Maybe not."
"You're killin' me, Gable," he said.
"Oh, baby." She patted his cheek and smiled, slow and sexy. "You ain't seen
nothin' yet."
When they got to Juice's apartment complex his mom's car wasn't in the lot.
"You want me to wait?" Olivia said. "Make sure everything's okay?"
"Um. Yeah, just hang on a sec. I'll run upstairs and see if she left a note."
"Sure."
He hopped out, and she watched as he took the stairs two at a time and let
himself in to their second floor apartment. A moment later he reappeared, and
she couldn't quite decipher the look on his face. He climbed in the truck again
and handed her a piece of paper.
Her mouth fell open as she read it. "Is this a joke?"
"I don't think so," he said.
"Holy shit."
"You think it's an intervention?"
"About what?" She put the truck in gear and turned out onto the street. "Yeah,
you and TJ got into a fight, but it wasn't like he didn't deserve it. I thought
your mom was more or less okay about it."
"She was. Maybe they finally decided to go out."
"Hum."
"Yeah."
She paused and drummed her fingers against the steering wheel. "Would that be
the end of the world? Really? If they just went on a few dates, I mean. Your
mom seems really nice, and my dad hasn't dated anyone since my mom died."
He hitched a shoulder. "I guess it'd be okay. Except…what would it mean for you
and me?"
"You and me you and me, or you and me us?"
"The second one."
She bit her lip and pulled over to park in front of her house. "I don't know.
What do you think?"
"You already don't wanna be my girlfriend. Can't imagine bein' my stepsister
would improve anything."
"Don't say the s word, Ortiz. I've already done one taboo relationship this
year; I don't need a second one."
"Maybe we're overreacting anyway."
"Probably."
"Sooner we go in, sooner we'll know."
They both got out of the truck and met in front of the hood. He wanted to kiss
her, but their parents might be watching them right now. Together. From inside
Olivia's house. Where the four of them were about to sit down to dinner.
Together.
"Olivia," he said.
"Hhmm?"
"Whatever happens in there, you should know I'll still want to have sex with
you."
She burst out laughing. "Thanks for the update, Juicy. Come on, before they
start wondering what's taking so long."
===============================================================================
It turned out to be only a mildly big deal: they wanted to have a chat with
Juice and Olivia because they were concerned about Juice's suspension and TJ
Flanary's behavior. Juice assured them both it had been an isolated incident,
and he was taking Presbo's warning about continuing the feud seriously.
For her part, Olivia promised her father that she would be careful, and she
wouldn't go anywhere alone. It seemed like a perfect excuse for her to spend
way more time with Juice than her dad might normally like, so it was an
agreement she was happy to make.
It didn't seem to either of them that their parents were interested in each
other in a romantic way. There were no lingering glances or accidental touches.
They were polite with each other, friendly, but not overly so. As everyone said
goodnight they exchanged looks that promised further investigation, and as soon
as the door closed behind them, Olivia dragged her dad into the living room and
sat him down.
"Are you and Ms. Ortiz dating or not?"
"Pumpkin—"
"I have a right to know, Daddy. If you're going to be involved with my friend's
mom, you should tell me. I'm not trying to pry, I just—I want to prepare
myself."
He gave her a long look. "Are you and Juice dating?"
"No. I told you. We're just friends."
"Uh huh. And yet he took a one-week suspension because he got in a fight to
defend your honor."
"Jax or Opie would've done the same thing if they'd been there. You know that,
Dad."
He conceded the point with raised hands. "I enjoy Ana's company, and I'd like
to think she enjoys mine, but no. We aren't dating, and we have no plans to
be." He leaned closer and tapped her knee. "Is this about your mom,
sweetheart?"
"Dad." She made a face and looked away. "It's been four years."
"That's a long time in real life, but in since-your-mother-was-killed time it's
not, really."
She turned back with a wary expression. "Is it about Mom, Dad? Because you know
if you wanted to start dating I'd be okay with it. You can't—"
She broke off and bit her lip. Cleared her suddenly thick throat and winced at
the pain. "We can't mourn her forever, Daddy. We've gotta move on eventually."
"I know, baby," he said, his voice soft with compassion. "And I will. But not
yet."
A tear rolled down her cheek and she didn't bother to wipe it away. "Does it
make me a bad person if I say I'm…actually really glad to hear that?"
"No, sweetheart." He held out his arms and she fell into them. He kissed the
top of her head and let her cry. "She was your mom, Ollie. You're supposed to
miss her. I miss her every day. I wouldn't get involved with anyone without
talking to you about it first. We're a family, right?"
She managed a nod and rubbed the back of her hand over her cheek. "I don't want
to be that guy. The kid who thinks they run their parent's life."
"Olivia," he said, his tone dry, "if you're under some sort of impression
you don't run my life, then you're not nearly as perceptive as I thought you
were."
"Funny. I see where I get my sense of humor."
He just shook his head and hugged her. Finally he said, "I can't believe that
boy hurt you today. In the middle of school."
"I'm okay, Dad," she said around her sniffles.
"You might not've been, Ollie. If you'd been alone with him—"
She pulled away and frowned up at him. "Do you really think I'd be that stupid?
I'm not going to underestimate TJ Flanary. Trust me."
"You're not stupid, but things happen."
"We already had this conversation, remember? No going anywhere alone. Keep my
eyes open. Make sure I tell the guys at TM what's going on so they can watch
out for him, too."
"All right, smartass," he said. He hesitated a moment, and she eyed him.
"What?" she said.
He sighed. "I know you say you and Juice are just friends—"
"We are. I have no interest in dating anyone right now. Not with everything
that's going on."
"Understandable," he said. "Have you told him that?"
"Yes. He knows exactly where I stand, and he's okay with it. Why?"
He shrugged. "I can tell he cares about you a lot, that's all. And you seem to
care about him."
"I care about all my friends, Daddy," she said, struggling to keep her voice
even.
"I know that, pumpkin. It just seems like you and Juice—"
"Dad," she said, "please stop. I know you mean well, but it's fine. Juice and I
are fine. We've talked about—about all of this. Neither of us wanted any
misunderstandings."
"That's very mature of you both."
"You sound surprised."
His brow quirked in acknowledgement. "Most adults I know are seldom so good at
communicating."
She tangled her fingers together and stared down at them. "I guess—I guess I
like him, you know? And I don't want to mislead him or make him think—that
something's going to happen that isn't. Better to be upfront, right? That way
no one gets hurt."
"Right," he said with a slow nod. "No one gets hurt." He smiled and ruffled her
hair. "Go do your homework, pumpkin. Remember I go back to work tomorrow, so I
won't be here when you get home from school. Is it Tara's day to drive?"
"Yep, so I'll get a ride home from her, then I'll come straight inside and lock
all the doors and windows. Barricade the place like the Huns are invading." She
didn't mention that Juice was coming over; they'd talked about him enough for
one night.
"That's my girl."
She kissed his cheek and hurried to her room. Shut the door behind her and
leaned against it. She hadn't lied to him. Not really. Okay, maybe she
should've asked if Juice could come over tomorrow, but she didn't want him to
get the wrong idea.
About what, exactly? That his daughter had no interest in being a nice boy's
girlfriend, but she was perfectly willing to—
She cut that thought off and took a deep breath. They weren't having sex
tomorrow anyway, and she didn't want her dad worrying about it. And he would,
especially in light of the whole Mr. Collins debacle.
Her mouth curved as she wandered toward the bed. Her dad didn't get off work
until two AM. She wondered how late Juice's mom would let him stay out. Surely
till at least midnight; that was Olivia's weekend curfew, and Juice was a boy.
A boy who'd just gotten suspended for a week, but still.
She threw herself on the mattress and grinned. Olivia hoped Juice was as eager
to learn as she was to teach him, because it was practically all she'd been
thinking about since the other night. The way he'd told her he missed her in
the hall today before it all went to hell…the intensity in his eyes and that
low, rough pitch of his voice…
She closed her eyes and bit her lip. Wiggled out of her jeans and slid a hand
into her panties. She wasn't going to get any homework done while she was
feeling so wound up distracted. She let out a soft sigh as her fingers found
her clit.
"Juan Carlos," she murmured, imagining herself whispering it in his ear as he
touched her like this. She wished she hadn't left his jacket in the hall
closet; she wanted to wrap up in it and smell him on her skin.
She'd tell him about this tomorrow. Watch his pupils get big and that little
line form between his brows; his mouth go all soft and loose, his lips just
waiting for her to nibble on them as she caught his moans. Speaking of—she bit
down on her fingers as she tried to keep quiet, but that only made her think of
other things she'd recently had in her mouth.
But then her phone rang. She let out a curse. Who the fuck was calling her this
late? There were only a couple of options, and they all seemed important enough
to actually answer. She checked the caller ID and a wicked grin split her face.
"Hi there," she said, still smiling.
"Hey. Sorry. Is it too late?" he said.
"Nope." Her voice dropped into a silky purr. "As a matter of fact I was just
thinking about you."
"You—you were?" he said.
"Yep. I could tell you all about it, if you want, or we could just wait until
tomorrow."
"Ahh…shit." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Lowered his voice
until he was almost whispering. "I really. Really. Really want to hear about
it, but I don't have a phone in my room, so I'm kinda in the kitchen."
"Mmm, too bad. Tomorrow, then?"
"Uh huh." He paused. "Are you—right now? Or did you stop to answer the phone?"
"I stopped to answer, but—" Her hand drifted back down between her legs. "Let's
just say it was a brief pause."
"Goddamn, Livvie," he rasped.
She laughed, a low ripple. "Was there a reason you were calling, Ortiz? Or did
you just want to hear my voice?"
"Uh—no, I had—um. I just wanted to tell you since I won't see you at school
tomorrow that I've got a shift at TM until six. I'll be over after that…if it's
okay."
"Sounds good," she said. She was starting to get a little breathless.
"Fuck. I gotta hang up now."
"So soon?" she murmured.
"Liv—"
"Just talk to me, Juicy," she said. "About anything."
He breathed a ragged sigh. "Um. Back, uh, back in Queens I used to get in
trouble a lot. I used to do homework for some of the kids at fifty bucks a pop,
and one day I got caught because I fucked up and gave some guy an English paper
for his history class."
"Uh huh," she said, almost a moan. "Go on," she urged.
He paused to savor the sound of her quiet little gasps. He thought maybe a
different tack was in order. "Do you like ice cream, Livvie?"
"Ice cream? Yeah. S'yummy." The sound of his voice was making her crazy—low and
sexy and just Juice. She slid two fingers into her wet, aching cunt with a soft
sigh.
"Real yummy. I love an ice cream cone on a hot day. Like in the middle of
summer, you know?"
Her breath hitched and took on a new cadence. "It drips."
"Uh huh. And you gotta catch all those drips, but sometimes it kinda gets outta
control. Ice cream's all runnin' down your fingers and the back of your hand,
and you're like chasin' it down your arm."
"Licking," she said on a hard gasp. She pressed the heel of her palm against
her clit and rocked up into her hand. "Don't stop, baby. Please!" she
whispered.
"Exactly. Licking. So you lick faster, to stop it from dripping, but it's so
hot you can't keep up. There's ice cream everywhere, and you've got a big
sticky mess all over your hands and your face."
"Fuck!" she breathed. "Fuck, Juicy, that's it!"
"But you can't stop licking just because you're makin' a mess. You gotta keep
going, right, because otherwise you wasted a whole bunch of yummy ice cream. So
you're licking and sucking and like lapping everywhere, every little drip,
hoping you can finish it off. And it's just so sweet and good, and it's so hot,
and you don't ever wanna stop eating it."
"Oh God yes, baby, yes!" She bit down hard on the hand holding the phone to
muffle a cry as the orgasm hit. Her body arched and the climax rolled through
her in burst after burst, hot and delicious and intoxicating.
He gritted his teeth hard enough to hurt as he listened to her wordless
whimpers and soft, heated moans. His cock was throbbing, begging for a little
relief, and the feel of it rubbing against his underwear was driving him nuts.
"Well," she said when she finally had her breath back, "I don't think I'll ever
feel quite the same way about ice cream."
"Me neither," he said on a laugh.
"I'll miss seeing you at school tomorrow."
"I know. But, hey, it'll be six before you know it and we'll have the whole
evening to just—hang out."
"Right," she said. "Hang out and eat ice cream."
He made a funny strangled sort of noise. "I really gotta hang up now."
She smirked. "Moan my name when you come, baby."
"Ha. I always do, these days."
"Mmmm. I'll remember you said that."
He huffed out a breath. "Liv, about tomorrow—"
"No sex, Ortiz. Not yet."
"Fuck, that's okay." His voice dropped even further. "I'll finger you, baby.
Eat you out. Whatever you want. You don't have to do anything for me. I just
wanna—I wanna see you come in person."
"Go to bed, Juan Carlos. We'll talk tomorrow."
"Night, Liv."
"Night, Juicy. And thanks."
"Uh huh," he said, half-laughing. "No problem."
She hung up, her lips twisted in a grin.
Suddenly she was looking forward to tomorrow night more than ever.
***** Fake a Smile *****
Chapter Summary
     Olivia has an interesting encounter in the girls' room.
                         what has he done my señorita?
                     his kind of love is going to kill you
                 do you fake a smile when you dodge the blows?
                         so many times so many chances
                          this one could be your last
                         Better Than Ezra, "Rosealia"
Either Opie or Jax were glued to her side the entire day, and it was
exhausting. One of them walked her to class, and then the other one was waiting
for her when the bell rang. She wondered how they got out of their classes so
fast, but she decided not to ask.
They were at lunch when John Patric approached their table. He looked sheepish
and nervous, and Jax and Opie fixed him with killer death glares.
"What the fuck you want?" Jax said.
He ducked his head a moment before he raised it again and met Olivia's eyes.
"Ollie—"
"No," Opie said. As usual his voice was perfectly calm, and John's face paled.
"You don't speak to her. You don't look at her. You sure as fuck don't call
her Ollie."
She touched his arm. "It's okay, Ope. What's up, John?"
He tucked his hands in his pockets and looked away. "Listen, I just—what TJ did
yesterday was fucked up. What he said, too."
She lifted a brow. "What he said yesterday, or what he said when he started the
rumor about my after-school activities with the football team? Tell me, John,
did you enjoy your blowjob? It's funny because I have literally no memory of
your dick."
"Hard to remember what don't exist," Jax said under his breath.
John ignored him and stayed focused on Olivia. "I should've said something, but
do you really think it would've done any good? If people want to believe that
shit, they're going to."
"Right," she said. She rubbed her forehead. "Forget it. Whatever. Is that it?"
"You need to be careful, Olivia," he said after a moment. "TJ was…he was crazy
yesterday. He came over to my place and he was screamin' and throwin' shit. He
blames you for the whole thing."
"Doesn't surprise me."
"How about you let us worry about Olivia?" Opie said. "You keep to your side;
we'll keep to ours. Ain't that the way it is?"
"Yeah, man," he said with a snort. "I guess it is. See ya around, Ollie."
He walked away and Olivia shook her head. "I don't even have the energy to be
mad at him."
"Don't worry," Tara said. "I've got enough for both of us."
"Keep those nail scissors handy, babe. Might need 'em after all."
"I'm your girl."
Olivia shoved at Opie's shoulder, but he was like a boulder. "Move," she said.
"What?"
"I gotta pee, Ope. Get outta my way. And for fuck's sake, stay here. I can pee
all by myself."
"I'll go with you," Tara said.
Olivia flicked her fingers. "Everyone please just stay here. I need five
minutes alone before my brain explodes."
Opie slid out of the booth with a reluctant frown. She squeezed his shoulder as
she went by, and all three of them watched her until she disappeared around the
corner.
"She just got warned to watch out for TJ, and she's runnin' off by herself?"
Opie said.
"And we're letting her?" said Jax.
"TJ's banned from campus for two weeks," Tara said.
"That don't make me feel much better," Opie mumbled as he went back to his
tater tots.
Olivia, for her part, was grateful to escape. She knew her friends meant well,
but they were driving her nuts. She hated feeling trapped. She pushed into the
girls' room and shooed everyone out. They left with little snickers and nasty
glares, and once the place was empty she wedged the door shut and slumped
against the sinks.
It was quiet, and after a moment Olivia noticed a small sniffling sound coming
from one of the stalls. She froze. She hadn't checked them. Like an idiot.
Someone was clearly still here, and it sounded like they were crying.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror. She should walk out. Leave right
now and forget that some girl was camped out in the bathroom having a cry.
Hell, this was high school. Girls probably cried in the bathroom more than they
peed.
She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingertips. Sidled
closer to the stall and tapped on it. "Hey," she said, quietly, "are you okay?"
"Go away."
Olivia's brow creased. "Katie?"
"Goddammit." The stall door swung open and Katie Adams glared out at her
through red, puffy eyes—and the beginnings of a nasty shiner on the right side.
"Holy shit, Katie, you get hit with a volleyball in gym or something?"
"As if you care!"
"You're right. I don't care. Have a nice day." She spun on her heel, but
Katie's voice stopped her.
"Wait. Olivia, wait."
She stopped. Don't turn around, she told herself. Just keep walking. She wasn't
worth it. She didn't deserve it. But Olivia felt a weird gnawing in her
stomach, and she knew if she walked away now she'd regret it. She turned back
slowly, her expression wary.
"It wasn't a volleyball," Katie muttered.
Olivia swallowed. "I can't imagine that John would slug you in the face."
She shook her head. Olivia let out a hard sigh and reached past her to rip a
handful of toilet paper from the dispenser. She handed it to her, and Katie
accepted with a sniff.
"Everybody knows TJ's got a bad temper. It's kind of legendary. I should've
known better. I should've just kept my mouth shut."
"Katie, whatever happened it's not your fault. It's his. Only his. He's the
asshole here."
She nodded toward the scarf around Olivia's neck. "You wearing that because of
him?"
She fiddled with it. "Yep."
"I heard—back when he and Dana went out freshman year she came to school with a
split lip one day. She told everybody she fell ice skating."
"Ice skating?"
Katie shrugged. "Better than telling the truth."
"Jesus." She propped against the sinks again and motioned Katie closer. "Come
here."
"What for?" she said, suspiciously.
"We need to get you cleaned up before you go out there, and lunch is almost
over."
"Oh." She shuffled closer. Olivia grabbed a paper towel and wet it. Squeezed
out the excess water and pressed it gently against Katie's face.
"You should really go to the nurse and get some ice for this. It's gonna swell
like crazy otherwise."
Her eyes darted toward the door. "I don't—if people see—"
Olivia smiled a little. "You've got a makeup bag, right? I'd offer mine but our
coloring isn't super similar."
Katie pointed back toward the stall and Olivia grabbed her backpack off the
hook.
"May I?"
She nodded and didn't take the paper towel away from her eyes. Olivia dug
through her stuff and emerged with a pink makeup bag covered in little gold
stars. She traded Katie the wet lump of paper for some dry ones, and she dried
her face.
"We'll camouflage long enough to get us to the nurse's office, and then you can
camp out there next period. Maybe for the rest of the day."
She unscrewed the cap on a pot of concealer and carefully dabbed around Katie's
eye. She flinched. "Sorry," Olivia said. "Sorry."
"It's okay." She took a deep breath. "I can't believe you're being so nice to
me."
"High school's a shitty place, Katie. We make it even worse when we let boys
tell us we should hate each other. You didn't like me because I was dating TJ,
right? That's a stupid reason. Hate me because you—I don't know—have some weird
thing against mechanics or because I stole your last cookie. Don't hate me
because of a guy. We're better than that."
"We?" she said.
"Girls, Katie. Women. We gotta stick together because assholes like TJ are a
dime a dozen. If we don't have each other, what've we got?"
"I never thought he'd do something like this. I mean, the things he said about
you—and the flyer—that was pretty shitty, but the way he attacked you
yesterday? And now…" She trailed off and her fingers fluttered toward her face.
"He's out of control."
Olivia tried to suppress a grimace. Yeah, he was out of control when it
impacted Katie. That wasn't a fair thought, though, and she shoved it aside.
"We could go to the cops if you wanted," she said. "Between my neck and your
face, plus everyone who saw what he did yesterday…we would have enough to press
charges."
Katie snorted and then winced. "Yeah, no. He'd get out on bail in two seconds
and kill us both."
The scary part was she wasn't exaggerating by much. "I can see about getting
you some protection if you want."
She made a face. "You mean those bikers you hang out with all the time? No
thanks. My dad would have a stroke." She paused and her expression turned
thoughtful. "You know, on the other hand, that's not a bad idea."
"A biker boyfriend is a really good way to get your dad's attention."
"Tell me about it. Dana's dad flipped his shit when she went out with Juice
Ortiz."
Olivia stiffened a little. Dipped into Katie's bag for some foundation. "Did
he?" she said, struggling to keep her voice neutral.
"Oh yeah," Katie said, completely oblivious to Olivia's shift in mood. "Why do
you think she did it? New guy who'd been with Asia Martinez? Please. The minute
he rode in on that motorcycle and started hanging with Jax Teller and Opie
Winston she made up her mind. Didn't hurt that he's cute."
"Jax is cute, and I would think more Dana's type."
"That's true, but she's tried with Jax like three times and hasn't gotten
anywhere. Plus a Mexican biker just made her dad that much madder."
"He's Puerto Rican," Olivia said.
"Huh?"
"Juice Ortiz? He's Puerto Rican, not Mexican."
Katie hitched a shoulder. "What's the difference? He's not white and he drives
a motorcycle."
"Right," Olivia said through gritted teeth.
Katie eyed her as Olivia added bronzer to help perk up her color. "Did you
really sleep with Mr. Collins?"
"Um." She fiddled with the makeup brush. "Yeah, I did, but not until after he
was fired."
"Wow," Katie said with a giggle. She sounded genuinely impressed. "He's totally
hot."
Olivia's mouth quirked. "Yeah, he really is."
She lowered her voice even though they were alone. "Was he, like…I mean, was
he good?"
"Of course he was. Why else would I do it?"
Katie blinked at her. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, what's the point of having sex with someone if you don't have a good
time? Seriously."
She looked like the idea had never occurred to her. "It's how you make them
happy," she said.
"Them. Guys. So…why the fuck is it our job to make them happy? They have hands
and access to porn. Let them make themselves happy if they don't care about
us."
"You're not kidding," Katie said after a moment.
"Not at all."
"What did TJ say when you shared this life philosophy with him?"
"I didn't have it when I was with TJ. But when I wouldn't have sex with him he
tried to rape me and I kneed him in the balls."
Katie choked. "Oh my God! That's what you were talking about yesterday?"
"Yep." She stood back and studied Katie's face with a critical eye. "Barely
noticeable. You need me to walk you to the nurse?"
She looked like Olivia had just offered to give her open heart surgery with a
hacksaw. "I'll be good, thanks."
"Yeah." She packed Katie's makeup bag and shoved it back in her backpack before
she handed it over. "Of course you will."
She swung around as she reached the door. "Be careful, Katie. TJ's dangerous.
Stick with John. He might be an idiot, but he's a harmless idiot."
Katie smirked. "I thought I'd see if Juice Ortiz is free now that Dana's done
with him. Biker bodyguard and a surefire way to piss my dad off."
Olivia's mouth curved in a cold, sweet smile. "Stay away from Juice Ortiz,
Katie. He's not your boy toy."
"Dana enjoyed him."
"I'm sure she did. But things are different now, and I don't think he's
interested."
"Why?" Katie said with a laugh. "You two fucking or something?"
"Nope," Olivia said. "I just know what he likes."
"Oh yeah? What's that?"
She grinned and pushed the bathroom door open. "A challenge, Katie. That boy
loves a challenge."
===============================================================================
Tara had somehow sort of accidentally ended up at Olivia's after school. They'd
ordered pizza and watched Empire Records, and now they were sprawled out on
Olivia's couch trying to get up the energy to move.
"We really didn't need two pizzas," Tara said.
"Ordering them was fine. It was eating both of them that was the problem."
Tara studied the picture on the movie's box. "You know, I'm not even into it
and Liv Tyler is totally hot in this flick."
"Tara, everyone is into it when it comes to Liv Tyler in this movie."
She conceded that with a grin. "I'm really glad she didn't fuck Rex Manning."
"Oh, Rexie!" Olivia said in a high, breathy voice.
"You're so sexy!"
"God," Olivia said and rolled her eyes. "Like, I get it. Girlhood fantasy,
right? But it just shows you that sometimes your fantasies are better
off not coming true."
"Even your girlhood fantasy of making out with Liv Tyler?"
"Completely different situation."
"Uh huh."
Olivia threw a balled up napkin at her, but she dodged it. "Hey, so…speaking
of…"
Tara lifted a brow. "Speaking of making out with Liv Tyler?"
"Sort of. In a thematic sense."
"Thematic as in making out, or thematic as in fantasizing about girls?"
"The latter."
"Hum. Okay. Shoot."
Olivia's leg dangled over the edge of the sofa, and she kicked it a little just
to make it swing. "I came out to my dad the other day."
"What? What did he say?"
She sat up and shrugged. "He seemed okay. The usual is it a phase bullshit, but
I set him straight about that, and…I don't know. I really think he was…I think
he was okay."
"Ollie, that's so awesome!" Tara hugged her, squeezing hard. "How did it even
come up? Did you plan it?"
"Not at all. He was freaking out over that flyer and he got all you didn't
bring him home because you knew it was a bad idea and I just kinda—I asked him
what he would've done if the picture were of me and a girl."
"Wow. Was he shocked?"
"Pretty much. But, I mean, it was a lot. First he finds out his daughter had an
affair with her twenty-six-year-old former teacher, then he finds out she's
into chicks."
"Which hit him harder?"
"Oh the Ben thing for sure. Can't get pregnant from a chick."
Tara laughed. "True. Definite advantage there."
"He and Juice's mom kinda flipped out over the suspension and TJ and
everything."
"Oh yeah?"
"They cornered us last night and lectured for an hour about responsibility and
blahblah. I honestly don't know if it was about Juice getting in a fight, or
about the dangers of unprotected sex."
"Did they say that?"
"Ha! No. But they were layin' it on way thick."
"Timely lecture, methinks," Tara said with a grin.
"I already told him we're not having sex tonight. I mean, I seriously doubt our
parents would approve of any of my tenuous plans, but at least it won't be
that."
"Oh, Ollie. You're such a delinquent."
"S'true." She frowned a little and started to clean up the mess from the pizza
boxes. "Something kinda weird happened today."
"This is Charming, Olivia. Something weird happens every day. Be more
specific."
She stacked their plates and threw the napkins in the trash. "I ran into Katie
Adams in the bathroom during lunch. She was locked in one of the stalls,
crying."
"Katie Adams? San Joaquin Barbie?"
It was a nickname they'd invented for her back in middle school, and as
accurate as it might be it made Olivia uncomfortable now. "The one and only.
Apparently she and TJ had some sort of confrontation, and he decked her."
Tara blinked. "You're fucking kidding me."
"Nope. She had the black eye to prove it."
"Holy shit."
"Yeah."
There was a grim silence while she processed it.
"He's unraveling or something," Tara finally said.
"Seems like. God only knows how his dad reacted to the suspension, and he got
kicked off lacrosse and banned from everything. Presbo threatened to expel him
if he messed with me again."
"You and any other girl at South," Tara said.
"Well, yeah, but—" Olivia broke off and her eyes went wide. "No way. Katie
would never rat him out."
"Does she have to? If you told Presbo what she said…?"
"He'd ask her about it, she'd deny the whole thing, and I'd look like a
desperate bitch who can't let shit go."
"Let shit go," she said. Her tone dripped with disdain. "Like you should be the
one to have to let it go."
"I know. It's fucked up, but unfortunately that's life." She hesitated and Tara
eyed her. "I offered Katie protection, like from the guys? But she said no."
"Hum."
"Until it occurred to her how much it would piss off her rich daddy if she came
home with a biker boyfriend," Olivia said.
"Jax and Opie are taken, so unless she wants Chibs—"
Olivia waved a hand. "Juice isn't."
"Of course he is."
"She doesn't know that."
"You don't think Juice would ever be interested in Katie Adams?"
"I don't know," Olivia said with a shrug. "He was interested in Dana. Katie
said Dana only went after him to piss off her dad."
"Ugh. That's so gross. Poor Juice."
"He doesn't know."
"Yeah, and you can't tell him."
"I know." She grabbed the empty boxes and headed for the kitchen. Tara picked
up the plates and went after her.
"You wanna tell him, don't you?"
"No, of course not." She took the dishes from her friend and set them in the
sink. "I don't know. Yeah, a little. I mean, I'm not his girlfriend. He could
decide he's bored with this whole thing and take Katie up on her offer.
Assuming Katie makes an offer, which of course she may not."
Tara propped a hip against the counter as Olivia ran hot water into the sink
and added a little soap. "Why would he do that?"
"Maybe because Katie would put out?"
"You're gonna put out. Just not in the traditional sense. And, I mean, I
seriously doubt he's complaining about what happened the other night." She
paused and chewed her lip a second. "Ollie, listen. I know you're not gonna
have sex with Juice just because you're worried he might go out with Katie
Adams, and I know you're not gonna tell him what she said because you know it
would hurt his feelings. Stop worrying about it. He's where he wants to be."
"You think?"
"I've got zero doubts, babe. Katie's just a pretty face. You're—I don't know.
You. Ollie Gable, ass kicker and mistress of metal."
"Ooo, I like that. Let's make it my official title."
"Done. Do I get a title?"
"Tara Knowles, future saver of tiny babies, miracle worker, and all around best
friend forever."
"Excellent. Now we're one step closer to founding our own sovereign nation."
"I always wanted one of them." Olivia finished with the dishes and put them in
the drying rack. She was drying her hands on a towel when the bell rang.
"What time is it?" she said.
"Like, six forty-five."
"Oh shit! How did it get that late?" She dashed down the hall, away from the
front door, and Tara chased her.
"What's wrong with you? It's just Juice, right?"
"Yes, but tomorrow is laundry day. I have one pair of cute underwear hidden at
the back of my drawer, and there was no way I was wearing them to school
today."
Tara's eyes went wide. "I'll keep him busy."
Juice's greeting died half-formed on his lips when the door opened. "Tara?"
"Hey, big boy. In the mood for a three-way?"
His mouth fell open and she burst out laughing. "Holy God your face." She waved
her hand and stepped back. "Ollie'll just be a sec. Come on in."
He closed the door behind him and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I just came
by to—um, I mean—Olivia asked if I—"
"Stop before you hurt yourself. Best friend, remember?"
"Ahh," he said.
Tara cast a glance over her shoulder and lowered her voice. "Just between you
and me, she's crazy about you. Getting her to admit it is gonna be kind of
hard, though, and if you push her on it she'll go the other way just out of
pure pig-headedness."
He ducked his head to hide a grin. "It's all good," he said. "I guess—I guess
I'm sorta crazy about her, too, and I don't wanna do anything to fuck it up. I
get where she's coming from."
Tara gave him a long careful study. Finally she said, "Good on you. Maybe you
actually have a chance."
"Hi, I'm here! Sorry about that. We had like five pizzas earlier and I needed
to brush my teeth."
"Two pizzas, bitch," Tara said.
"Whatever." She offered Juice a smile. "Hey," she said.
"Hey." His mouth moved in that slow curve that made her tingle all over, and
her own grin deepened. Their eyes locked and held and the moment stretched.
Tara glanced between the two of them and decided three was definitely a crowd.
"Okay. TM's closed, which means my man's free. And clearly you two have plans,
sooo…"
Olivia blinked. "Call me tomorrow?" she said.
"Uh huh. Wouldn't miss it."
They exchanged hugs, then Tara grabbed her jacket and her backpack and was out
the door. Olivia locked it behind her and turned slowly to face Juice.
"Well," she said.
"Well."
They drifted closer. She felt strangely shy, and she couldn't figure out why.
There was the thing last night on the phone, but after everything else that
didn't seem like such a big deal. She hooked her thumbs in her back pockets,
and this time he let his eyes trail down the length of her body. Her cheeks
went hot.
"Um," she said. She shifted. "Are you hungry? Tara and I ate all the pizza, but
I'm sure we could find something."
"Nah," he said. "Tig made a run to the taco truck about an hour ago."
"I love that taco truck."
"Me too! Their carnitas, man."
"Work of art." It broke the tension, and she relaxed. "Come on in," she said.
She stopped. Did she want to take him to the living room, or straight to her
bedroom? The latter seemed a little too desperate, but the former was a waste
of time because she wasn't about to make out with him on the couch. There was a
tiny chance her dad could show up early, and that was the last thing he needed
to walk in on.
"My room's down there," she said. "Last door on the right. I'm gonna grab us
something to drink and I'll meet you there."
"Cool," he said. He trooped down the hall and into her room. Paused at the door
to rub his palms against his thighs and give the place a look-over. The walls
were painted a dusky lavender, and her bedspread was white with tiny violets
scattered here and there. Pretty, he thought. Not what he would've expected.
The bed was neatly made and covered in useless little pillows. What was it with
girls and pillows?
There was a Pearl Jam poster—it made him think of the day they met—and another
one of some blue-eyed pretty boy leaning against a locker looking angsty. There
was a weird one of a flying blue cow, but he recognized it from when he'd
looked up Chagall. He stepped closer to her desk to study the photo collage she
had pinned to a cork board: pictures of her and Tara, her and Jax, her and Ope,
all of them together and in various combos. There was a woman with eyes like
Olivia. Her mom, he guessed.
A couple newer ones were tacked to one corner: all six of them, from the night
of Opie's birthday thing. And one of just Juice and Olivia. He didn't remember
anyone taking it. Her head was thrown back with laughter, her nose scrunched,
and the back of her hand was pressed against his shoulder. He grinned at her
like a dumbass. Yep. Just about right.
He smiled. She had a picture of the two of them on her board. Just the two of
them. Together. Laughing together. It made him feel warm all over.
"See somethin' you like, Ortiz?" her droll voice said from the doorway.
"Yep," he said without turning around.
She joined him at the desk and he caught her smile from the corner of his eye.
"Not sure why I kept this one," she said and pulled its pin out. "I guess I
have a soft spot for cute boys with nice grins."
She handed him a can of Coke and he set it on the desk. "Oh yeah?" he said.
"Mmhhmm. Sort of my kryptonite."
"Funny you should say that, because I was thinking earlier I had no
idea my kryptonite was short redheads with freckles and an attitude problem."
"I do not have an attitude problem."
"Sure." He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. His
other hand carded through her hair. "Whatever you say, Liv."
She braced her palms against his chest and tipped her head back as he dipped to
brush his mouth over hers. The kiss started out gentle and easy, but in just a
few seconds the heat ramped up and she found herself plastered against him. His
hand drifted down to her ass and she sucked his lip into her mouth. She echoed
his quiet moan, but when his thigh slipped between her legs she pushed away.
"Okay, wait." She blew out a breath and scrubbed her fingers through her mussed
hair. "We've got practically all night. Let's…let's slow down a little."
He blinked, and his mouth curved in a sheepish grin. "Sorry. I kind of lose my
mind a little when I touch you."
"I was right there with you, buddy, believe me." She smiled. "Um, how about
some music? And take your boots off. Get comfortable."
He sat down in the chair to unlace his boots, but he didn't tell her what he
was thinking: he wasn't sure if it were possible for him to be completely
comfortable with her, at least not while he couldn't stop thinking about last
night, and all those little noises she made when she came.
He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat.
She eyed him like she could read his mind. "Don't worry, Ortiz," she said.
"We're gonna have a really good time tonight. I promise."
***** Closer *****
Chapter Summary
     Um. Porn.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                            the hail storm tumbles 
                            the rail line rumbles 
                         you lie on the floor with me 
                             come closer my love 
                              i'm badly in need 
                         of an afternoon's debauchery
                           David Gray, "Debauchery"
They'd been lying in her bed together for over an hour, and they were both
still fully clothed. The weird part was Juice wasn't even impatient. She'd lit
some candles, and the warm scent of honey filled the air as the beeswax melted.
The CD she'd put on had stopped a while ago, but neither of them wanted to move
to change it. She was snuggled against his shoulder, her hair fanned over his
chest, and he toyed with the silken strands as they talked.
She told him about the weird encounter with John at lunch, and the even
stranger one with Katie later. She didn't mention Dana, but she did tell him
Katie had said he was cute.
"She said what?" he said, choking a little.
Olivia hitched a shoulder. "What? She's got eyes." She paused and raised her
head to look at him. "What would you do if she actually made a move on you?"
"Come on, Liv, she wouldn't do that. She's like…and I'm like…" He waved a hand
to express the vague point, and her brows quirked in agreement.
"She normally steers clear of Mill rats like you and me, but I think she might
be lookin' for a bad boy."
He snorted. "Me? Sure, Liv. I'm on honor roll and last week I helped a little
old lady cross the street. I'm a fuckin' delinquent."
"You got suspended for punching the guy who punched her. That's attractive to
any girl, I think maybe."
"Olivia—" He broke off with a frown. "I know we're not…we're not an official
thing or whatever, but…you're the only girl I want. You know that, right?"
She let that slide past. "Katie Adams is really pretty. Nice body, too.
Cheerleader."
He scowled. "You're really pretty and have a nice body, but whatever. When it
comes to comparing you and Katie Adams that doesn't even matter."
Her head tilted. "What do you mean?"
"She's mean, Liv. And not mean like you, because you aren't actually mean; you
just pretend you are to keep people away. Katie Adams is actually mean. She
treats kids like shit. You know that weird dude Chucky Marstein? Wears gloves
all the time?"
"And speaks in rhyme, yeah. He's in my English Lit class. He's weird, but he's
actually kinda cool. Didn't get gross with me after the TJ thing. Stayed
normal, basically. I mean, normal for Chucky Marstein, which is pretty far
outside the curve."
"Right," he said with a brief grin. "Anyway, the other week he walked up to her
in the hall. She'd dropped something and he was just givin' it back to her.
Like, completely harmless. She made this face like he was a cockroach and said
somethin' like, who gave you permission to speak to me? or some shit. It was
bad."
"Ugh," Olivia said.
"Yeah. And then one day this freshman girl was just at her locker, minding her
own business, and I don't know what Katie said to her, but it made her cry. I
guess they had on the same skirt or something? Trust me: pretty or not, there's
not a single thing I find attractive about Katie Adams."
There was a pause. Finally, "You really think I'm pretty and have a nice body?"
She said it all in a rush, and blushed bright red because it sounded so shallow
and vapid.
He grinned and cupped her face in his hand. "You're gorgeous, Liv. I mean, not
pretty like the way Katie Adams is. She's kinda boring pretty. Obvious. You're
like…I don't know. I wanna look twice, and then I can't stop looking because
there's always somethin' new."
She scrunched her nose. "I have all these dumb freckles."
He kissed the scrunch. Her forehead. The apple of her cheek. "The freckles
might be my favorite part."
He tilted his head thoughtfully. "You're real nice when you think people aren't
paying attention. You didn't have to help Katie today. You could've walked away
and I don't think anybody would've blamed you. But you didn't. You helped her
because that's how you are. You're a good person, and people like Katie Adams
just don't get how much more important that is than lookin' like a Barbie doll
or havin' a bunch of money or any of that dumb, worthless shit."
Her mouth curved and she kissed him long and slow. "You're really good at this,
Ortiz."
"At what?" he said, surprised.
"I don't know. That thing. I don't mean being smooth, because you're honestly
one of the least smooth people I've ever met. Which I like, don't take me
wrong. You're good at…" She lifted a hand in a shrug. "I don't know what I
mean. Saying exactly the thing that makes me feel all giddy and silly."
"Wow. Never heard that one before. I usually say exactly the wrong thing."
"Yeah, well, we definitely had that phase. I think we're past it now."
"I hope so. I prefer you giddy and silly rather than ready to cut my head off."
She kissed him again, and as his tongue rubbed against hers she pulled away
with a soft, contented noise. "You know, I had originally planned to start our
lessons with kissing, but I feel confident we can skip that one."
"Oh yeah?" He lifted her chin up towards him and captured her mouth again. Her
lower lip slotted between his just like the very first time, but this time he
let his teeth sink in, just a little, and at her gasp dipped his tongue into
her mouth to tease and explore.
They were both breathless when the kiss finally broke.
"You don't stick your tongue down my throat," she said. "You wait for an
invitation. At Christmas—how did you know?"
"Know what?" he said. "That you didn't want me to stick my tongue down your
throat?" At her look he shrugged. "I don't know. I thought—I couldn't believe I
was actually kissing you, and I didn't want it to stop. I figured if I did
something like that you might slap me. I just wanted to kiss you, not…"
"Fuck me up against the wall?" she murmured just to see his reaction.
He didn't disappoint. His dark eyes went huge and he shook his head. "That
didn't really—"
"Sure it did. It's okay. It occurred to me, too." She kissed his nose. "Let's
make a deal, okay? I'll be honest with you, and you be honest with me. Tell me
what you're thinking. What you want. What you like and what you don't. If we
can't do that much then what's the point?"
He took a deep breath. "It's weird. I never thought of…I never really thought
of actually having conversations about this stuff. It's just something you do,
you know? Not talk about."
"I thought that way, too, but then someone enlightened me. Life's too short for
bad sex, Ortiz, and the only way to make it better is to talk about it." Her
mouth quirked. "Besides, you seemed to enjoy talking about it last night."
"That was a new experience for me."
"But you liked it?"
"Oh yeah. I can't believe I'm about to say this because it's not like we were
actually touching or even in the same goddamn building, but that was maybe the
hottest thing I've ever done."
"Mmmm," she said. She pressed her lips to the corner of his jaw and whispered
against his skin: "Just wait, baby. It only gets better."
He shivered. "So, um—" He stopped himself. She was right: it was stupid to not
be able to talk about this stuff if they were going to be doing it. Just spit
it out, Ortiz, he told himself.
"So what's on the agenda tonight, since I guess it's not a lesson about
kissing?" he said.
"Ummm…" Her face creased as she thought it over. "Let's skip ahead a little."
She sat up and took off her t-shirt. His eyes bugged out at the sight of her
dark blue satin bra. It was overlaid with black lace, and her skin looked
impossibly white against it. He swallowed. He could swear he was actually
drooling.
"You had the right idea the other day in the break room, you just didn't take
enough time," she said. "Just like anything else, nipples vary. Some women like
a lot of nipple play, some don't like any at all."
"What about…you?" he said, struggling to concentrate on her words.
"I like to be turned on first. After that, the more the merrier. But don't just
go grabbing at my chest right off the bat."
"Okay," he said. Their eyes met, and she gave him an encouraging smile.
"Touch me, Juicy. Please. Trust me. I'm turned on."
The idea made his throat go dry and tight. He sat up across from her and held
out a hand. His fingers were shaking. She reached behind her to unclasp her
bra, but he stopped her.
"Not yet," he said. "Gimme a sec."
She let her arms fall to her sides and went still as she watched him.
His knuckles brushed the swell of her breast. Her skin was incredibly smooth,
silk and velvet, and when he ran his fingertips over it he stared in
fascination as a flush spread across her chest. He moved his hand to the other
one and dipped his head to kiss where he'd just touched, a feather-light graze
of his lips against her.
She made a tiny noise, something like a gasp, and he smiled. He did it again,
more firmly. Opened his mouth and let his tongue trail over her. He kissed his
way to the center of her chest, and then up the curve of her other breast. He
lingered a moment, and carefully, gently, let his teeth sink into her soft
flesh.
She whimpered and her fingers curled into his hair. He took that as a good sign
and added some suction. A little more when she gasped. Harder. She might have
to wear a high-cut shirt for the next few days. He broke off and soothed the
spot with his tongue.
"Sorry," he muttered.
"S'okay," she said. "Just not where anyone can see, yeah?"
"No problem. Not exactly questions I want you to have to answer."
"So considerate, Ortiz," she said as she ran her hand over his head.
He tugged her bra strap down her shoulder and gave her a questioning look. She
grinned and unhooked it. It fell away and he stopped to stare.
Her breasts were full, each a good handful for him, and her skin was marble-
pale. Her nipples were a pretty peachy-pink color, and at the moment they were
hard and inviting. On the right breast, just outside the aureole, was a
freckle. A single freckle, darker than the others, and he couldn't resist the
urge to lick it.
"Mmm," she murmured.
She fell back against the mound of pillows, her fingers tangled in his shirt,
and he had no choice but to follow her. He arranged himself so that his weight
was on his elbows rather than on her, and once again his thigh found its way
between her legs.
"You're so beautiful, Livvie," he said. He left a trail of kisses around the
silky underside of her breast. "Sexy." His tongue lapped across her nipple.
"Taste so good."
She shivered at the feel of his warm breath on her sensitive skin. "Still taste
like candied violets?"
"Nuh uh," he said. "Better."
His mouth closed over her nipple and her back arched a little. He sucked.
Nibbled. Lashed his tongue across it and enjoyed the sound of her little moans.
He trailed his hand up her body to knead the other one in his palm and her
breathing deepened.
"That's good, Juicy," she said. "Feels so good."
He pulled back a little to nuzzle between her breasts with his nose. Press a
kiss to her sternum. He switched his hand and licked his way around the
underside and up the opposite curve. He teased her nipple with his tongue,
lightly flicking against it and swirling around it without actually touching
the sensitive nub.
Her fingers were back in his hair, and as she pulled a little he knew he was on
the right track. He kept up the close-but-not-quite until she let out a low
growl of frustration.
"Juice!"
He grinned and sucked it between his lips. Held it there and rubbed his tongue
back and forth across it. She writhed beneath him, and he knew she had to feel
his erection pressing against her belly. He groaned and increased the pressure
as he sucked.
She let out a broken little whimper and pressed her hand against his forehead.
"Okay," she gasped, "okay, I think you've got that one down."
He lifted his head, confused. "What…?" he said.
She grinned. "A plus, Ortiz. Gold star and a double check mark."
"Oh," he said and blushed. "Really?"
She gave a drunken nod and laughed, breathlessly. "Yeah, babe. Really."
He ran a hand down the center of her chest, from her sternum to the waist of
her jeans. She was flushed, and her sweat-dampened skin seemed to glow in the
low light. Her nipples were swollen and reddened, like pretty little cherries.
He licked his lips. She narrowed her eyes at him and ran her thumb over his
lower lip.
"Eyes front, soldier," she said, but her voice was rough, and he knew she
wasn't completely opposed to the idea of more.
But he'd agreed to follow her rules, so he let his gaze flick up to meet hers.
"Do your panties match your bra?" he said. The second it was out he kicked
himself. That wasn't part of her plan, and he really needed to learn when to
keep his mouth shut.
She didn't look pissed, though. Her mouth curved and she guided his hand to the
button on her jeans. "Why don't you find out?"
He choked out a breath. "Liv—"
"Just help me with my jeans, baby. We'll decide what happens next when we get
to it."
He undid the button and lowered the zipper. Helped her slither out of them and
tossed them away. Her panties did match the bra: dark blue satin, with black
lace along the waist and at her hips. They were cut high on the leg and low at
the waist, and there wasn't a lot to them.
He approved whole-heartedly.
She grinned at the look on his face. He ran his eyes down the length of her
legs. He still wanted to kiss her scars, but she hadn't invited him to do
anything south of her middle, so with a reluctant sigh he moved back up to lie
next to her.
"You look a little over-dressed, Ortiz," she said.
"It is kinda warm in here."
"I think that's just the company," she said with a smirk. "Take your clothes
off. Everything but your boxers."
He had no idea why that command, spoken really more like a request, sent such a
shock through him, but it did. His breathing went ragged as he stripped off his
t-shirt and struggled out of his pants. She watched him with a lifted brow and
a tiny smile hovering at the corners of her mouth. Her gaze drifted down to the
tent in his boxers and the dimple appeared in her chin.
"I'm guessing you enjoyed that," she said.
He swallowed, and when he tried to look away she took him gently by the jaw and
turned his face to her again.
"I wanted you to enjoy it, Juicy. I hope you did. I know I did."
A crease appeared between his brows. "I thought I was learning how to make you
feel good…not how to turn myself on."
"Hopefully the two go hand in hand. You turn me on; it turns you on. I turn you
on; it turns me on. It's a circle, not a straight line."
"Oh," he said. He looked like he'd just had an epiphany. "Oh," he repeated. "I
knew…I mean, Christ, after last night I obviously knew I really, really like
making you come."
"Babe, that's the whole point. Sex pretty much always feels good for a guy, but
it's so much better when you're both enjoying it. Like, really enjoying it."
"As much as we both enjoyed last night?"
"More," she said and kissed him. "Last night was way fun, and I came really
hard, but it's even better when your hands are actually on me."
He shifted and clenched his jaw. "I like having my hands on you. And my mouth."
His eyes were hot as he studied her. "I meant what I said: I just wanna make
you come, Livvie. I'll finger you, eat you out, whatever. I can deal with this
later," he said with a gesture to his hard-on.
"Mmmm," she said, a regretful little noise. "Those are more advanced lessons,
baby. It isn't smart to skip around."
Though, she thought, if he were as good with a clit as he was with a nipple…
She shivered and blinked the image away.
"What was that?" he said with a grin.
"Nothing," she replied, all innocence. She pushed him back on the bed and
straddled his hips. He groaned a little as she settled down over his erection.
"Liv, what—?"
She kissed him. Her breasts brushed his bare chest and they both gasped. She
sat up and slid her hands up his body. Their eyes met and locked. Hers were
intense, the bright green darkened in the half-light. His were almost entirely
pupil, wide and surprised. Her teeth scraped across her lower lip and he
gripped her by the hair to haul her closer for a hard, hot kiss.
She moaned into his mouth and wiggled.
"Fuck," he rasped. "Goddamn you're makin' me crazy."
"Good," she said and nipped his lips with hers.
She raised up on her knees and reached between them to free him from his
boxers. He drew in a sharp hiss when her fingers brushed against his throbbing
cock, but it transformed into a curse as she dropped down onto him again. He
was pressed against her satin panties, and he could feel the molten heat of her
through the thin material.
"Livvie—"
She rocked against him and cut him off with another kiss.
"Holy shit goddamn holy…"
"Good, baby?" she murmured.
The slippery cloth slid up and down the length of his shaft every time she
moved. It was incredible, all soft heat, but his face scrunched as he looked at
her.
"It's fucking—Jesus, it's amazing. But what about you?" he said. "Can you—?"
Her mouth curved. "I like the way you think, Ortiz."
She guided his hand down and he helped her reposition his cock so that the head
was against her clit. She wiggled, working him until he was nestled between her
slick labia and her panties were the only thing separating him from her hot
cunt.
"Oh God," he whispered. He gripped her hips, a desperate squeeze, as she
started to move. Wetness dripped around the edges of her panties and coated his
cock with every stroke. She bit her lip as the ridge bumped over her clit. The
satin that had seemed so insubstantial before now felt like the fucking Berlin
Wall.
She ground against him. His hands slid around to cup her ass, and he thrust up
into her. The slide was slow and exquisite. Just a little rough. He panted when
she went faster and gritted his teeth in frustration when she slowed down.
"Here," she murmured. She hooked his fingers into her panties and showed him
how to tug on them in counterpoint to her rocking.
He watched her face in fascination as her mouth fell open and color bloomed
across her cheeks. "Do you like that, baby?" he said, his voice low and rough.
"Uh huh. So good!"
He sat up a little to gather her against him. He kissed her neck. Brushed his
tongue against the sensitive spot just below her jaw. "You like your panties
and my cock rubbing your clit like that, Livvie?" He bit her throat, a quick
scrape of teeth, and lapped over the spot to soothe it.
"Yes, Juicy! Yes don't stop!" She rocked faster, and as she got wetter and
wetter it got quicker and easier. Her panties moved one way and his cock moved
the other and it was fucking maddening. Almost like a tongue, but not as
direct, and as the heat built and built she shuddered with pleasure.
"Fuck, baby, fuck that feels so fuckin' good goddamn you're so sexy. So hot,
Livvie, fuck!"
He grasped her breast with his free hand and pinched her nipple between his
knuckles. His hips bucked and she let out a soft, whimpering moan that he
recognized from last night.
"That's it, baby," he said. He sucked her earlobe into his mouth. "Come for me.
Come all over my cock. You feel how hard I am for you, Livvie? You got me so
crazy losin' my mind feels so good…!"
His husky, rasping voice in her ear was more than she could handle, and that
combined with the rough tugs on her nipple sent her over the edge. She froze
for a moment as the orgasm hit, but he didn't stop. Her head fell back, and
every brush of her underwear against her hyper-sensitive clit sent another hard
pulse through her.
"Oh my God, oh God fuck holy shit!" she whimpered.
He felt her lips squeeze around him and he groaned. "Baby, fuck, baby, I
can't—!" And suddenly he was coming, spilling all over his stomach in short,
strong bursts that left him breathless and dizzy.
Her forehead fell to rest on his shoulder and he wrapped his arms around her.
She licked a trickle of sweat off his neck and he shivered.
"I made a mess," he said when he could breathe again.
She lifted her head to look at him with a sexy little grin. "You sure did." She
made a soft tsk noise and ran her finger through it. Lifted a brow at him and
sucked the fingertip into her mouth.
"Fuck me," he croaked.
"I think I sort of just did."
He laughed, but it choked and died when she dipped her finger in his come
again.
"You want to know how good you taste?" she asked in a voice like velvet.
His eyes went round and he blinked at her. What…? He felt his cock stir at the
idea, and apparently she did too.
"Is that a yes?" she said.
He couldn't speak. His throat had closed and words were beyond him. He gave a
desperate nod and she laughed, a sweet ripple. She moved her finger toward him,
and he leaned forward to capture it, but at the last minute she pulled back.
She stuck out her tongue and pressed her fingertip against it. Brushed across
her full lower lip.
"Jesus Christ," he wheezed.
She giggled and dipped her head to kiss him. Their tongues met first, then
their lips, and he licked her mouth clean with an aching groan. She pulled away
and ran her hand over his hair.
"I can honestly say that's a new experience."
"Uh huh," he said. "I'm pretty sure I liked it."
"I'm pretty sure we both did," she said with a quirk of her brow. She slid off
him and threw her legs over the edge of the bed.
"You leaving?" he said.
"I'll be right back." She dropped a kiss on his mouth. "Don't move."
He could hear water running in the bathroom down the hall, and when she
reappeared she was naked. He swallowed. "What happened to your panties?" he
said, his eyes glued to the thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs. It was a
darker red than on her head, more coppery than golden.
She snapped her fingers in front of his face and he looked up at her with a
guilty flush. "Sorry," he said.
"Mmhhmm. I had to wash them out in the sink. I made a bit of a mess, too."
He grinned. "Was this part of your plan?"
"Nope," she said. She crawled onto the bed, and he finally noticed the
washcloth in her hand. She pressed it against his belly, and he sighed at the
warmth. "Well," she said, tilting her head, "I guess the first part was." She
gently wiped the come off his skin. "I had sort of planned to get you all wound
up and then—leave you there."
He winced. "That's mean, Liv."
"Yup."
"You aren't even sorry."
"Nope."
She finished cleaning him up and planted a kiss just below his belly button
before she set the washcloth on the nightstand. He stretched out his arm and
she curled up against him again. He tugged his boxers back into place. Kissed
the tip of her nose and ran his fingers through her hair.
"I guess I should be used to it by now," he said.
"Hmm? Used to what?"
"You winding me up and leaving me to take care of it on my own."
She gave him a light smack on the chest. "Who sucked your dick the other night?
I don't think it was you."
"Not quite that flexible, unfortunately."
"It's okay," she said and pressed her lips against the spot she'd just slapped.
"That's what I'm here for."
"Olivia, you can't just say things like that. I'm sixteen. You sneeze in my
direction I get hard. Shit like that's just too much."
"I'll keep that in mind next time I feel the urge to sneeze."
"You're impossible," he said with a grin.
"You love it."
"I really do."
As soon as the words left his mouth he tensed. Her head came up and her eyes
were wide. "I didn't mean—"
"No, I know," she said. "I didn't either."
"I just meant—"
"I know. So did I."
"Don't freak out," he said.
"I'm not. Are you?"
"No. I just don't want you to."
"I'm fine," she said.
"Me too."
"Okay." Her mouth quirked. "Good. I'm glad we're both fine."
His hand slid down her back to squeeze her ass. "I'm actually great."
"I think maybe I should put something on," she mumbled against his lips.
"Nah," he said. He danced his fingertips up her ribs and she giggled.
"Yes, for sure." She twisted away and hunted down her t-shirt. He let out a
sigh of disappointment as she tugged it on.
"Probably for the best," he muttered. "Your boobs are incredibly distracting."
"You've had that problem since the first day we met."
"Ahh…kinda hoped you hadn't noticed that."
"Please. We always notice."
"Hum," he said. "Oops."
"It's fine," she said as she settled next to him again. "Just try not to leer."
"Can't make any promises."
She smiled softly and kissed the corner of his jaw. "You're really cute,
Ortiz."
"So you keep saying."
"Is there a problem?"
He sighed. "Puppies are cute, Liv."
"I like puppies."
"Yeah, but—maybe, ya know, I'd rather be sexy. Not so much like a puppy."
"Um." She ducked her head to hide her grin. "Juice, seriously. After what just
happened do you really have any doubts about how sexy I think you are?"
He shifted and his eyes flicked away. "I don't know. Maybe…?"
She took his face in her hands and kissed him long and slow. "Do you have any
idea how much I think about you? Last night you made me come talking about ice
cream. You can get me wet just by looking at me the right way. You make me
crazy, Juice. I've never—I can't believe I'm saying all this. I've never had
someone affect me like you do, okay? Yes, you're sexy. You're incredibly sexy.
You're cute and you're sexy and you're hot and I swear to God if Katie Adams
lays one perfect little finger on you I will rip her pretty blonde hair out by
the roots."
He choked on a laugh. "Holy shit, Liv."
"I'm sorry. That last bit was a little much."
"I didn't think you'd be the jealous type."
She made a face. "Apparently I am. I just—she just—ugh, she was so
fucking smug. Like all she had to do was crook her finger and you'd come
running."
"Her perfect little finger?"
"That's the one. Quit laughing at me, butthead."
"Did you just call me a butthead?"
"Yup. And you deserved it."
He rolled over on top of her so fast she barely had time to react. She let out
a little squeak and then he was kissing her. Running his hands up her sides and
nipping at her neck with his lips.
"Juicy, what are you doing?" she murmured. But her fingers were in his hair and
she didn't try to push him away. "Juicy, baby, please. We can't—"
"I know, Livvie," he rasped. "I'm gonna stop." He licked her collarbones and
pressed his lips against the hollow of her throat to feel the pounding pulse
there. Then, with a pained groan, he pulled away and flipped onto his back.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"You didn't," she said. She sounded out of breath. "But that was your reaction
to me calling you a butthead?"
"More like my reaction to the idea of you fighting Katie Adams."
"Cat fight, Juice? Really?"
"That's not what I meant," he said. "More, just, I guess maybe now you
understand how I felt when you were with Mr. Collins."
She turned over to face him and propped her chin on her hand. "You know we're
not anything like that, right?"
"What do you mean?"
"Just that…I don't…I mean—the way I feel about you is—it's not the same as how
I felt about Ben."
His brow furrowed and he wouldn't look at her. "How did you feel about him?"
"He was—he was cool. We had a good time. He taught me…practically everything I
know, I guess. About sex, I mean. I was happy when I was with him."
"Oh," he said, softly.
"Juice, please listen. It wasn't anything serious or…nothing would've come of
it. It was like cotton candy. You know how you take a bite and it's really
sweet and yummy and then it just melts away like nothing?"
He tilted his chin toward her. "So what are we?"
"I don't know," she said, laughing. "Maybe…chocolate cake? Still sweet and
yummy, but with some weight to it. I don't know. That doesn't make any sense."
"Yeah it does," he said after a moment. "I get what you mean."
She hesitated. "Do you—do you like chocolate cake?"
"I love it, Liv. Chocolate cake's my favorite."
Something about his tone worried her, but she chose to ignore it and accept the
words at face value. She brushed her mouth over his and smiled.
"Good, Juicy," she said. "It's mine too."
"It's like fate," he said with a grin that didn't quite touch his eyes.
"Yeah," she said, studying his face with concerned eyes. "Yeah, I guess it must
be."
Chapter End Notes
     Hum. Wonder how that's gonna turn out.
     Okay, so obvs I skipped publishing yesterday, bc I was stuck starting
     ch23. I worked through it, and now 23 is pretty much complete. I kind
     of know what's gonna happen for 24, so that's good.
     I did not waste my day yesterday, though! If you guys check out ch1
     of Come With Me Tonight you will see a link to a character bio I put
     together for that version of Olivia. If you've read that story (or
     are interested in reading it, whatever) it might be a fun thing to
     have a look at. I'll put one together for this Olivia sometime soon.
     Love to hear from you guys, so lemme know what's up. :)
***** Off my Feet *****
Chapter Summary
     Juice has been avoiding Olivia ever since their encounter Friday
     night, and she wants to know why. His suspension is up, so she plans
     to confront him at school.
Chapter Notes
     For those of you cheering for Juice and Olivia to make a more
     emotional connection, I think you'll be pleased with this chapter. :)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                               so who's to worry
                            if our hearts get torn
                          when that hurt gets thrown
                       don't you know this life goes on
                             and won't you kiss me
                            on that midnight street
                             sweep me off my feet
                       singing ain't this life so sweet
                        David Gray, "This Year's Love"
Juice's mom had kept him busy through the entire week of his suspension and
basically wouldn't let him out of the house except for his shifts at TM. Olivia
saw him some there, but other than that there was virtually no contact between
them. They'd briefly chatted online Wednesday night, but she was keeping him
off the computer, too. And the phone.
Olivia understood. She was lucky as hell her dad hadn't flipped out harder over
the Ben thing and she was still allowed out of his sight.
But…
Something worried her. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she had
this weird, nagging sense of unease. They had chances at work to spend time
together, moments when they could sneak off somewhere or legit excuses, like
she needed help getting a tire off a truck. One day Juice had been drafted to
take a run to the taco truck, and she'd offered to go with him to help carry
everything. He'd said no.
She couldn't shake the feeling that he was avoiding her.
Friday night had been…insane. Crazy. One of the most intense sexual experiences
she'd ever had, and that was really fucking weird considering some of the stuff
she'd done with Ben.
But it had been different with Ben. Good because he was good, and because he
took his time and made sure she was enjoying it, then later good because he
knew her and what she liked. Not that she hadn't been attracted to him and
there hadn't been a spark between them, because duh. One doesn't seduce one's
teacher, former or otherwise, unless there's attraction. At least not in
Olivia's life philosophy.
With Juice it was more like…insta-heat. Intense and wild and the sort of thing
that could breed a level of infatuation she didn't want.
It wasn't just that, though. She genuinely liked him. Once she'd finally let
her guard down a little and gotten to know him, she realized he was…he was a
dork, but in a cool way. He knew things about computers that hadn't even
occurred to her before, and when he talked about hacking he got this look on
his face…
She shook her head and ducked into her closet. She felt dumb about it, but
Juice was due back at school today and she wanted to look cute. She had to find
the right outfit: hey, I look cute but I didn't put a lot of effort into it but
I did try a little because I wanted you to notice. It was a delicate balance,
and she was all alone because she hadn't decided on the plan until about
midnight last night.
Maybe she was wasting her time. If he were avoiding her a cute outfit wasn't
going to change that. She hated feeling so discomfited. She'd never let a guy
mix her up quite like this. TJ's mix-up had been completely different, but she
knew she was feeling this way partly because of him. He'd undermined her
confidence and sense of self in a way that one didn't bounce back from quickly.
If ever. But she hoped that wasn't the case here.
Juice liked her. She knew that. He wasn't lying or trying to say what he
thought she wanted to hear. He was genuine and honest and so,
so sweet it hurt sometimes. The thing he'd said about Katie, that looks didn't
even come into it because Olivia was a better person and that's what mattered.
He found her physically attractive; that was obvious; but it seemed like he
liked her for more than that. He saw more than that. Olivia wasn't the type of
pretty that controlled your life, that made it impossible for people to see or
value anything else, but between her red hair and her big boobs, guys tended to
pay more attention to her looks than she felt comfortable with.
She was being ridiculous. Paranoid. If he were avoiding her it was probably
just because he was on such tight lockdown at home. Or maybe his mom had told
him something weird like no talking to girls until you straighten up and fly
right, young man!
She giggled at that idea. God he was so damn cute.
If only she'd explained the difference between him and Ben a little better.
That was where things had gone wrong on Friday. He didn't really understand
what it had been like between them, and she didn't like talking about it
because it was their business, not anyone else's. But she thought now if she
wanted to keep Juice—which she really, really did—she was going to have to stop
being so guarded. She'd have to let him in, and further than she had already.
She laid some outfits on her bed and gave them a critical once-over. Discarded
the dress she'd chosen. Now it was between shorts and tights or a skirt and
tights. Either way, tights, both because she wanted to hide her scars and
because apparently panties weren't enough of a barrier when it came to Juice
Ortiz.
It felt weird, thinking about him like that: if she wanted to keep him. And she
didn't mean it in a possessive way, but she'd never thought she'd be the type
of girl to think of a guy like that at all. Guys (relationships in general,
though she'd never really had one with a girl) came and went, and she never
thought she'd be in a position to want to work to stop one from…going. Not that
she thought Juice was going. Not exactly.
And it wasn't even a relationship anyway. Not in that sense. But it was enough
of one that she felt the distance, and it hurt. Scared her a little, too, if
she were being honest, because she wasn't entirely sure what had caused it.
Ben? Sex? Her apparent inability to form a real connection with someone unless
she'd known them at least a decade?
"Fuck it," she muttered. She gathered up the clothes and shoved them back in
the closet. Skirt, no tights. Maybe the socks, though. He'd seemed to like the
socks.
If Juice Ortiz wanted to avoid her, he was going to have one hell of a battle
on his hands.
===============================================================================
Olivia wasn't there when Juice got to school Thursday morning. Tara said she
was running a little late, and honestly Juice was kinda relieved. He wanted to
see her. They'd hardly had a second to themselves the whole week thanks to his
mom's you're not in school so you might as well do this mile-long list of
chores I put together for you plan of attack, and he'd missed her, but…
But what? He wasn't sure. Friday night had been one of the most incredible
experiences of his life, and not just because of the sort-of sex. Just lying in
bed with her and talking had been something completely new. He liked being with
her. Making her laugh. Watching her face light up when she talked about the
things she loved.
And she seemed to really listen to him, and care about what he said. She didn't
get that glazed-eyed look when he talked about computers, and she asked
questions. Like, smart ones, even though she claimed she wasn't any good with
them. She didn't make him feel weird for liking math, and she knew as much
about muscle cars than anyone he'd ever met.
So why the fuck had he been avoiding her for the last week? Maybe he just
wanted to see how she would react. That was shitty and manipulative, and she
deserved better. If he wanted to know how she felt he should just ask her. It
wasn't like she'd mislead him at all: she'd told him from day one she didn't
want to be his girlfriend, and he could back out if he wanted to.
He just hadn't realized how hard it would be. He wanted to hold her hand in
public. Kiss her in front of everybody. Walk down the hall at school with her
and have everybody know. He didn't want Katie Adams to ask him out, but if she
did he wanted to be able to tell her he was with someone. That he was with
Olivia Gable and she was worth about twenty of Katie Adams and maybe Katie
should get a fuckin' clue and stop acting like she was God's gift to high
school.
Olivia would love that. And probably scalp him for it.
It was Thursday, which meant they had shop together later. He could wait to see
her then, or he could go find her during free period. It seemed stupid to wait.
He wanted to see her; he just wasn't sure what to say. That'd probably only get
worse the longer he avoided her. Free period, then.
He pushed open the shop door and crept inside. It was quiet. Empty? She wasn't
here? He frowned and checked the break room. Nope, no Olivia. The torch was
cool, her most recent sculpture shrouded. Where was she?
He heard the creak of the door and whipped around.
"Oh!" she said, startled. "I didn't know you were in here. Scared me."
"Oh," he echoed, a hard, stunned exhale as he blinked at her.
His eyes raked her from head to toe and back up again: maroon Doc Martens,
black and white striped over-the-knee socks, black pleated skirt that
was almost too short to pass dress code, fitted white button down. Her hair in
tousled waves around her face and her lips painted the sexiest cherry red he'd
ever seen. Some sort of smoky thing around her eyes that made the green seem to
glow.
He thought she didn't wear makeup on shop days.
Her mouth curved. "You okay? You look spaced. You know you really shouldn't get
stoned before school, Ortiz. You just got off suspension."
"Huh?" He gave a quick, sharp jerk of his head and somehow tore his gaze away
from the white stretch of skin between the top of her socks and the bottom of
her skirt. His brows drew together. "I don't smoke before school, Liv. You know
that."
The grin deepened. "That's right. You're a Boy Scout. Honor roll and helping
little old ladies cross the street."
"That's me," he said.
She sauntered closer, but stopped just short of touching him. "But we both know
that's not quite true, don't we?" she murmured. "I have a very clear memory of
Friday night, and—"
"I guess it just takes the right motivation," he said before she could go on.
She slid a hand up his chest to catch his shoulder and pull him into her. Her
lips were so close to his ear he could feel the warm whisper of her breath.
"I've got a pretty good idea of what motivates you, Juan Carlos."
He frowned. The feel of her pressed against him was incredibly distracting, but
he wasn't stupid. Something was wrong here.
"Olivia, come on. You don't have to do this."
"Do what?" she said. She caught her lower lip between her teeth. "I've missed
you, Ortiz. Can't stop thinking about you."
She chose her words very carefully, always, and the fact that she hadn't called
him Juice or Juicy told him everything he needed to know. He felt exposed out
here in the shop, so he took her hand and tugged her toward the break room.
Locked the door behind them and turned to face her. She immediately wrapped her
arms around him, and for just a second he forgot everything he'd just been
thinking and let his hands skim along her sides.
"Wait," he said when she kissed his neck. "Baby, hang on. Wait, please."
She pulled back, nose scrunched. "What's the matter? Worried about lipstick
stains? Don't worry; you won't have your clothes on for long."
"Olivia, no." He gripped her waist and gently pushed her away. "This isn't what
I want."
She stood frozen a moment, her brow creased and her mouth soft, before her eyes
flicked away and she swallowed. "Oh. Right. I—I should've taken the hint.
Sorry, I—"
"Stop." He ran a frustrated hand down his face. "Stop pretending. Stop acting
how you think I want you to be and just be you. I want you, Olivia. Do you get
that? Just you."
There was a quiet moment while she stared at him. "I don't understand," she
said, softly.
"I'm starting to get that."
She crossed her arms over her chest and dipped her head. "I don't know how to
be any other way, Ortiz. You said Jax and Opie warned you. You said you knew
better than to fall for me. This's me. This's who I am. It's not a cakewalk.
It's not—it's not something you really want to be a part of."
He had no idea how to explain it to her, but he knew if he didn't at least try
she'd walk out and maybe never speak to him again. "The girl I was with Friday
night. The girl I was with under the pine trees. Hell, even the girl I was with
the night I found you on the side of the road! That's the girl I—that's you,
Liv. That's you without all this pretense and bullshit. You don't need it. Not
with me."
She spun away. Ripped a tissue from the box on the table and scrubbed it across
her mouth. "I am pretense and bullshit, Juice. It's all I've got."
"That's not true. I don't understand how you can't see—" He broke off with a
scowl. She didn't even want him, not the way he wanted her, so why was he
trying so goddamn hard?
"Why've you been avoiding me all week?" she said.
"Because I'm an idiot."
She turned toward him with a snort. "If I believed that I wouldn't be
bothering."
He made a face. "I don't know, Liv."
They eyed each other across the space that separated them, and for a moment it
felt like a gulf. He knew he had a choice to make: fight for her, fight past
all her insecurities and reservations, or let her go. He had no idea if she'd
ever feel the same way he did, but he thought, maybe, they were too good
together to just give up.
He had to come clean with her or they wouldn't stand a chance.
"I like you so much," he finally said. "Friday was crazy and amazing, and I
think about you all the time."
"But…?" she said when he hesitated.
"I know you don't like me, not the same way I—and I thought I was okay with it,
and I am, mostly, but then you go and say we're chocolate cake and I don't know
what to think."
A quick gesture stopped him. "Hang on," she said. "I'm confused.
I like chocolate cake. I was trying to explain—"
"No, I know. I get what you meant about your thing with Mr. C being cotton
candy, and I hope it doesn't weird you out when I say I was really glad to hear
it. Like, relieved I guess. But the thing is, I don't wanna be chocolate cake
with you."
She gave a slow blink. "I'm not following the metaphor anymore. Could you
clarify for me?"
He let out a hard sigh. "Chocolate cake's great. My favorite, like I said. But
it's still just dessert. It's not good for you. It doesn't fill you up. It's
like a quick sugar high and then it's gone. You've got a sugar headache and
kind of a tummy ache and you're wishing you hadn't had quite so much chocolate
cake even though it was way good at the time."
Her mouth fell open. "Ohh…" she said. She shook her head a little. "So what do
you want to be?"
"Pot roast."
"Pot roast?" she repeated, nonplussed.
"It's good. Like, comfort food. You eat pot roast and yeah okay maybe you're a
little too full because you ate too much, but at the same time you feel really
good because it's just like, yeah, pot roast."
She pressed a hand to her face to smother a laugh. Pot roast? Somehow she got
what he meant, as out-there as it seemed, and her expression sobered as the
implications sank in. "I've never…I have no idea how to do that, Juice. I've
never been pot roast with somebody before."
"Yeah, me neither," he said with a rueful, self-deprecating smile.
His face went still and he stepped toward her. "I get you're scared, Livvie. I
get you're goin' through some serious shit. I don't wanna put more pressure on
you or make you do something you don't want. I do wanna be there for you. If
you'd let me. Because you're cool and I laugh a lot when I'm with you and…I
don't know. Even when I'm kinda frustrated with you you still make me…"
"Make you what?" she said. Her eyes were big and nervous, her body tense like
she might bolt at any second.
"You make me happy, Olivia. Being with you, and I don't just mean sex so please
don't think that, makes me happy. I want to make you happy, too."
Happy. She made him happy. Was it really that simple? She cleared her throat
and brushed at her face. "You didn't say I'm cute or have a nice rack."
"What? You want me to say that, too? Okay. You're cute and have a nice rack.
Your ass is good, too, and your legs look smokin' in those socks." He waved a
hand. "All that's just stuff, Liv. Yeah, okay, I like looking at you, but if
that's all it was I'd be fine with chocolate cake."
He reached for her, and when she didn't flinch or step back he cupped her face.
Ran his thumb over her mouth and smiled a little. "Wish you hadn't taken it
off. It's sexy when it's all smeared because I've been kissing you."
The roughness in his voice sent a shiver through her. She drifted closer. "Who
says you would've been kissing me?"
"Just a hunch I had. Maybe I was wrong."
His dark gaze was steady, warming, and she felt a flush spread across her
cheeks.
"You really like my socks?"
"They're awesome," he said without dropping her eyes.
"I wore them for you. Stupid, I guess. I don't usually do things like that."
He broke out in a grin. "Really?"
"Yeah, really. You scared me, Juicy. I know it seems like what we did Friday
was no big deal to me, or easy or something, but that's not true. It meant
something. It actually meant a lot, and it was a huge deal. The reason I don't
want to have sex with you has more to do with me than you, and it's because I'm
just not ready. That probably sounds ridiculous, considering."
"No it doesn't." He brushed his hand back through her hair. "I'm not sure I'm
ready, either."
Her eyes widened. "What?"
He blushed. "I know. Especially after the last time we were in here together,
right?" His mouth twisted and he shrugged. "It's weird, because if you'd asked
me a few weeks ago I'd be down as hell. But I guess you sorta changed my mind."
"I made you not want to have sex with me?"
He closed his eyes and let his head fall back. "Okay, so that came out wrong. I
just meant…I like what we're doing. I like taking it in steps. Yeah, it might
be a weird line to draw considering what we did Friday, but it's not the same
thing."
"The importance of vaginal penetration is really over-inflated in Western
culture," she said.
He let out a huff, half amused half frustrated. "You gotta stop thinking so
hard about everything."
"I can't help it. It's just the way I'm wired."
"Yeah, and I'm wired to do stupid shit because I don't ever think it through.
So maybe we can help each other out a little bit."
Her face clouded as she remembered what Tara had said to her that day: you
smooth each other's rough edges. She'd never wanted her rough edges smoothed
before. She'd never wanted someone close enough to even really see her rough
edges.
"What'd I say?"
His voice brought her back, but only kind of vaguely. "What?"
"Your face got weird. Sorta freaked out. What'd I say?"
"Nothing," she said. She focused on him again. "I just realized something,
that's all."
"Something good?"
She smiled, slow and sweet. "I think so."
He couldn't help but grin back. "Can I kiss you now?"
"Please," she said.
His free hand slid around her waist and he pulled her against him. He studied
her face like he'd never seen it before, or like he was trying to memorize it.
Her smile turned teasing, and her eyes drifted down to his mouth.
"You gonna make me beg, Ortiz?" she murmured.
"There's an idea," he said. "No. I just like lookin' at you."
"You said that already."
"I guess I really meant it."
He lowered his head and she lifted up and they met somewhere in the middle. His
fingers tightened in her hair and her arms curled over his shoulders. His lips
parted to let her tongue brush against his. The spark roared to life with a
vengeance. He must have felt it, too, because he groaned a little and squeezed
her ass. Let go with a frustrated growl to run his hand under her skirt.
She jerked back and he cursed.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"
"No, it's fine. That's fine. I just—I really want to be making out with you
right now. I really want your hand up my skirt. It's why I wore the damn thing
after all. I'm still just a little unclear on a few things, and I'd like to get
them straightened out before I forget."
"Okay," he said. He looked kind of fuzzy-eyed. She pulled his hand off her ass
and moved it back up to her hip.
"Tell me what you want, Ortiz. From me. Try not to use food metaphors. I need
to make sure I know what page you're on even if I'm not quite there with you."
"Oh." It was good she'd moved his hand, because honestly the first thing that
popped into his head when she asked him what he wanted was my face buried in
your cunt, but he figured that wasn't what she meant.
"I'm not going to freak out," she said at his hesitation. "I promise."
He took a deep breath and plunged in. "I want people to know about us. I'm all
for keeping things private; it's nobody's fucking business what we do; but I
don't want to hide. Secrets suck, Liv. They always come out and somebody gets
hurt somehow. We at least need to tell our friends because it feels weird
keepin' it from them."
"Tara already knows."
"Yeah, I know," he said, dryly. "She made that clear on Friday." He paused.
"She also said if I tried to push you you'd run the other way. Am I pushing
you, Liv?"
She was biting her lip again, but after a moment she shook her head and managed
a smile. "No, Juicy. I just—I wanna be sure you know what you could be in for.
My reputation is so fucked up. It'll drag you down. People will talk shit about
you. They'll talk shit to you. It sucks, and I don't want you to think any of
it'll be easy."
"Olivia, how many times do I have to tell you I don't care about all that?"
"I know you don't, but—"
"You do."
"I do." She lifted a hand in a shrug. "I try not to. And if it were just me it
wouldn't matter as much, but I don't want you to have to put up with it. It
shouldn't be something you have to take on."
He pressed his forehead against hers. "Clue it in, Olivia. I want to take it
on. I want to take you on, which is kind of a scary thought to be honest."
Her face scrunched. "I'm not that bad."
"You kinda are. Which weirdly is part of what I like so much about you."
She lifted a brow. "You love a challenge."
"I really the fuck do."
Her eyes drifted shut, and it was a long time before she opened them again.
"Okay," she said.
"Okay…? Okay what?"
"Okay we'll stop keeping it a secret. I'm still not sure I can be your
girlfriend, like your actual, full-on girlfriend, but—"
"That's okay. I'm really good with the way things are. I just need to know…I
don't want other guys lookin' at you, Olivia."
"You're with the wrong girl, Ortiz," she said with a snort. "That ship sailed
months ago."
"I know. But I guess maybe I don't want other girls lookin' at me, either. I
want people to know we're otherwise occupied."
It surprised a laugh out of her. "You that scared of Katie Adams?"
"More scared you'll get suspended for pulling her hair out by the roots and
then your dad will send you to boarding school and I'll never see you again."
"And you say you don't think things through." The dimple appeared in her chin
and her bright eyes danced. "You're quite the catch, you know. Cute new guy who
broke up with Dana Riley for reasons unknown and hangs out with Jax Teller and
Opie Winston? You could have just about any girl in this school."
"Ha," he said, clearly embarrassed. "That's crazy."
"Maybe. Doesn't make it any less true."
"There's only one girl I want, Olivia. If you don't want me back I'll figure
out a way to deal, but you gotta know you're the only girl I think about."
"Of course I want you back. I keep telling you that." She stopped short as
everything suddenly snapped into focus. Of course. Wow she was an idiot
sometimes.
She told him that over and over, and then insisted that they keep their
relationship a secret. She told him she wanted him and then turned around and
made it look like she didn't want him enough to tell people about it. She'd
kept Ben a secret, too, because she had something to hide. So what must Juice
think about why she wouldn't tell anyone about them? No matter what she said to
the contrary it looked like she was ashamed, and it made all the words in the
world ring hollow.
"I'm a jerk, Ortiz. Like a real, full-on jerk. We can tell anyone you want.
Everybody. Cut down a forest and wallpaper the place in flyers."
"Let's not go overboard," he said. "I'm just talkin' about a little hand-
holding and maybe the occasional public kiss."
"My dad will think you're my boyfriend if we start that nonsense."
"Just tell him you're using me for sex and I got demanding."
She laughed, free and golden, and her eyes narrowed as they locked on his.
"You're so goddamn cute, Juicy."
"Yeah, yeah."
But she could tell it thrilled him to hear it.
"Sexy, too," she murmured as her mouth found his.
"You just want me for my body, Gable. I know the truth."
"Your face is nice, too."
"Oh. Well that's okay then."
They both grinned like idiots.
"We should get out of here before I jump you," she said.
"You jump me? You're the one who wore an outfit specifically calculated to make
me drool."
"Did it work?" she said, her eyes big and innocent.
"Not even close," he said as he nodded yes.
"Then we should definitely get out of here."
"Wait, before we go." He frowned and looked down at his boots. Maybe he should
just quit while he was ahead.
"What? Don't stop now."
"I was wondering if you're gonna go on the camping thing this weekend."
It was a three-day weekend, so Jax and Opie had gotten it in their heads to go
to Opie's dad's cabin. She and Tara had told Donna's parents there was a youth
retreat with church, and they'd even printed up a permission slip for it. That
was a lot of effort for her to bail now.
"Yeah, Ortiz. I'm going camping. Are you?"
"Do you want me to?"
"Why wouldn't I want you to come camping with our group of friends? That would
be weird."
"No, I just mean—it'll be Tara and Jax and Donna and Opie, so we're gonna get
stuck together a lot. If that's gonna be awkward for you I can stay home. I'm
sure my mom can find some more shit for me to do," he said and rolled his eyes.
She pulled his face down for a long kiss. "I don't know, babe. Being stuck
alone in the woods with you doesn't sound half bad."
"Yeah?" he breathed.
"I think we can figure out how to make the best of it. Don't you? The mind fair
boggles at all the possibilities."
He nodded, his eyes big. Then, "I can't believe your dad is letting you go."
"Oh, he thinks Donna's parents are going." She pressed a finger to her lips.
"Don't tell."
"I'd never."
He tangled his fingers in her hair and captured her mouth. She nibbled his lip.
Sucked on it. He pulled back a little and watched her face as he started to
unbutton her shirt.
"Juicy, what are you doing?"
"I just wanna see," he said, his voice rough.
"See what?"
He undid only the first few buttons, then spread it open. His mouth curved in a
cocky half-smile and he lowered his head to brush a kiss over the fading mark
he'd left Friday night.
"That," he said. "Maybe I'll make another one on the other side sometime soon."
"And maybe I'll let you," she said, sweetly. She stepped back and fixed her
top. "Come on, Ortiz. Let's get out of here so I can start showing you off to
everybody."
He laced his fingers through hers and grinned down at her. "Lead on,
beautiful."
Chapter End Notes
     Nice of Olivia to finally clue in. Poor girl. Like Tara said, she may
     be smart about a lot of things, but when it comes to relationships
     she really has no idea.
     I spent yesterday doing a bit of plotting/outlining, but getting it
     all organized and on the page might be a bit of a challenge. Any
     reviews or encouragement you guys wanted to throw my way would really
     help a lot. :) And for those of you who have, thank you! I appreciate
     and love every one of you.
***** The Reason *****
Chapter Summary
     Camping. In the woods. Sort of. A lot of nonsense can go down in the
     woods.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                           how can you be so warm?
                        how can you know what I feel?
                    well it's the way you move your hands
                        and it's the way you understand
                     and that's the reason that i'm asking
                     that's the reason that i want to know
                     and that's the reason that i'm asking
                       and that's the reason that i'm...
                       Better Than Ezra, "In the Blood"
Olivia was glad tomorrow was the start of their three-day weekend, and that
they'd already decided to go to the cabin. It wasn't quite as bad as she'd been
expecting when she and Juice walked down the hall holding hands, but it still
wasn't great. He'd squeezed her fingers and cast her his warm, reassuring
smile, and she'd squared her shoulders and lifted her chin and dared anyone to
say something to their faces.
No one had, and by last period things had calmed down. Tara looked smug and Jax
sort of rolled his eyes. Donna seemed thrilled and Opie looked kind of…not
unhappy, exactly, but apprehensive. He knew what it could be like to fall (or
at least half-fall, because the way he felt about Donna was completely
different from how he'd felt about Ollie, and at the time he'd thought he
was really into Ollie) for her, and he hoped Juice knew what he was in for.
After last bell they split. Olivia had to run home to drop off her dad's truck
and grab her bag, and then Tara was picking her up in the Cutlass. Donna and
Tara would've been happy to ride with Opie and Jax, but Olivia couldn't do two
hours on the back of a motorcycle. As a result the girls were taking Tara's car
while the guys rode their bikes.
They spent the ride up gossiping and chatting, happy to be hanging out without
the guys for once. The three of them rarely got together, and Olivia sometimes
worried it was because of her history with Opie. She didn't want Donna to feel
uncomfortable around her, or think that she had any sort of hard feelings
toward Donna—or still had any feelings at all for Ope that went beyond
platonic. She thought maybe the thing with Juice had soothed things over a
little.
That, of course, was a hot topic of conversation. Olivia was stretched out in
the backseat, her legs draped along the bench, and she had her head back and
eyes closed as Tara and Donna talked.
She heard Juice's name and cracked an eyelid. "My ears are burning," she said.
Tara turned the radio down and gave her a look in the rearview mirror. "I was
just saying it looks like you and Juice worked things out."
"Hum." She'd told Tara how he'd been avoiding her since Friday, and Tara had
assured her (as was a best friend's duty) that he was probably just layin' low
to avoid his mom's wrath. "I guess he wasn't as cool with keeping things hush-
hush as he said. He thought—like, I can't blame him, because it sorta looked
like I was ashamed of him or something."
"He seems like a real sensitive guy," Donna said.
Olivia hitched a shoulder. "Most of them are, once you get past the crusty
exterior. Juice just carries it a little closer to the surface."
Tara cleared her throat. "So, Ollie, I sort of recruited Donna to our cause."
Donna smacked her on the arm. "Tara! Ollie doesn't wanna hear—"
"It's okay. You and Ope are so much better than he and I ever were. I'm glad
you guys found each other."
Donna cast a smile over her shoulder, and her cheeks were pink. "Thanks, Ollie.
He really likes you a lot, you know? I don't mean in a romantic way, just that
he cares. He's been wigged out since all this shit with TJ started."
Olivia was touched. "See what I mean? Talk about an iceberg."
"Iceberg?" Tara said.
"A little bit on the surface and a whole, whole lot hidden away where you can't
see."
Donna's mouth quirked. "That's my guy," she said.
She swung her legs off the seat and leaned forward. "How's it going? I think
Tara's experiment has been largely successful."
"Oh it's working," Donna said with a grin. She rolled her eyes. "When we can
get time alone that is."
"You've got a whole weekend now," Tara said. "And a bedroom all to yourselves."
"Are you guys seriously going to spend the whole weekend fucking?" Olivia said.
"What are Juice and I supposed to do?"
"Wait," Donna said and held up a hand. "You and Juice aren't—?"
"Not exactly," Olivia said. "Kind of…a whole lot of other things but not
that one thing, which is really just a detail and I kinda don't get why it's so
important."
"Because we've been culturally conditioned to think it is," Tara said, dryly.
"Yup," Olivia agreed. "And I am a product of my culture, hard as I try to fight
it." She flicked her fingers. "Anyway, you guys will have bedrooms, but there
are only two."
"I brought a tent," Tara said.
"That's a start."
"And beer."
"Also good," Olivia said.
Donna made a face. "I hate beer," she said.
"I know you do," said Tara. "So I also brought vodka. Plus, seriously, Piney
keeps like every type of liquor you can imagine up here and he won't care if we
raid it as long as we pay him for it."
"Wow. Not an open bar at chez Piney," Olivia said. "So basically it sounds like
your plan is to get stoned, drink, and fuck your boyfriend all weekend."
Tara snorted. "He and Ope wanna go hiking tomorrow. Hiking? Are you kidding?
Maybe we can find something to do while they're gone."
Olivia wasn't too keen on hiking. Short ones were okay, but back when they used
to come up here when they were kids they would wander for hours. Jax still
loved that, and Opie was never far behind. These days she just couldn't keep
up, and it wasn't really worth the pain to try.
"I'll talk Juice into going with them. He's sort of weirded out by the great
wide open, city boy that he is, but I won't mention snakes and he should be
fine."
"Or cougars," Tara said.
"Or bears," said Donna.
"There won't be any bears this time of year. They're still all sleepy and
hibernating." She paused. "Right? When do bears wake up? The only thing I
really know about bears I learned from Winnie the Pooh."
"It's true they think with their tummies," Tara said, "but I'm pretty sure
that's about the only thing they have in common with silly ol' bear."
"Yeah I won't mention them either."
===============================================================================
The boys insisted on building a fire in the backyard—observing proper fire
safety procedures, of course—and they all sat around it smoking and gorging
themselves on s'mores. They had a bottle of tequila going around, too, but
Olivia passed on that and concentrated on her marshmallows and chocolate.
Juice sat next to her. She leaned against his shoulder and he watched her lick
the mess off her fingers with big eyes. Winking at him, she leaned closer.
"Melted marshmallow kind of reminds me of something."
A drop of it had landed on the back of her hand, and she swirled her finger
through it. "But maybe I'm just imaging things." She stuck out her tongue and
pressed her fingertip against it.
"You're an evil temptress, Olivia Gable," he said.
"Guilty," she said with an unrepentant smirk.
"Oh God," Tara said. "If I ever see another marshmallow again I might die."
Jax laughed and kissed her neck. "We brought hotdogs, too."
"Ooo, hotdogs!" Donna said.
Olivia opened her mouth but Juice squeezed her hand. "No," he said.
She pressed her lips together and tried not to giggle. "Anything else on the
menu?"
"Peanut butter and jelly," said Tara.
"Ooo, peanut butter and jelly!" Donna said.
They cracked up. Opie laughed so hard he fell off his log and spilled the
tequila.
"Fuck motherfuck goddamn!"
"Quit cussin' at it and pick it up, dumbass," Jax said.
"I think Donna's the cutest when she's stoned," Olivia said.
"Seconded," said Opie.
"Tara's the meanest," Jax muttered.
"Nice, Teller. See how laid you get tonight."
"Aw, baby, don't be like that," he said. He tackled her and she shrieked as
they tumbled off their log and rolled across the ground.
"You're the sexiest, stoned or not," Juice murmured in Olivia's ear.
"Don't gotta lay it on so thick, Ortiz," she said. "I'm a sure thing."
"Ohh, well in that case forget it. Opie's the sexiest."
She slapped a hand across her mouth and laughed so hard tears came to her eyes.
Jax tossed Tara over his shoulder and smacked her ass. "To bed, woman!" he
said. "Gotta remind you who's boss."
"In your dreams," she said.
"There've been a few," he agreed.
They disappeared inside and Donna stood up to brush dirt off her jeans. "Come
on, Ope. I'm not as hungry as I thought."
He grinned at her and threw an around her. "Night, Ollie, Juice," he said.
"Night, guys," Olivia said. "Try to keep it down, okay? Don't wanna wake any
bears."
"Bears?" Juice said.
She patted his knee. "I didn't mean it. There're no bears."
"Except Winnie the Pooh," Donna said and giggled. She and Opie made their
unsteady way to the back porch and the door closed behind them.
A silence fell. She glanced at Juice. He watched her from the corner of his
eye.
"You gonna kiss me, Juan Carlos, or do you need an engraved invitation?"
He twisted toward her and grabbed her waist to pull her against him. "You
could've changed clothes," he said with a glower.
"Where's the fun in that?"
He crushed his mouth against hers and hauled her into his lap. She gripped his
jacket with both hands and sucked his lip into her mouth. His hands were
everywhere: gliding over her thighs just above her stockings, sliding up her
ribcage, squeezing her ass beneath her skirt.
She ground against him and felt his erection through his pants. She whimpered
as he gathered handfuls of her hair and scraped his tongue against hers.
"Want you so bad, baby," he said in a slurring whisper.
"The tent. We can't—out here—"
"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, okay. The fire—"
"I'll get it." She slid off his lap and tossed the bucket of water over the
smoldering coals. There was a huge hiss of steam and the smell of wet wood
filled the air. She scattered it with a stick to make sure nothing still
burned, and once she was satisfied she held out a hand to him.
Their fingers entwined as he pushed himself up. "I've never been camping
before," he said, wonderingly.
"Welcome to California."
He grinned at her. "Had no idea I would like it so much."
She unzipped the tent and dropped down to scoot backwards into it. Took off her
boots and set them near the door. "Come here," she said, crooking a finger at
him.
He crawled in next to her and tossed his boots beside hers. She frowned and set
them together neatly.
"You're cute," he said.
"Am I?"
"Completely."
"Hhmm." She turned toward him and pushed him back against the sleeping bags.
"Do you like it better when I'm cute, or when I'm sexy?"
"I like both." He ran his fingers through her hair. "They're both you."
"Clever boy," she murmured just before their lips met. "Hang on," she said when
he would've deepened the kiss. "I think we're gonna need a little light."
She dug the electric lantern out and flicked it to its lowest setting. "Much
better. I like to be able to see what's happening."
"Me too," he said. "I love watching your face when you come."
A blush touched her cheeks. "You've only seen it once."
"I know. And I liked it." His mouth quirked. "Was sorta hoping I'd get to see
it again tonight."
"Me too," she said. She brought his hand to her lips and sucked one of his
fingers between them. Enjoyed the breathy noise he made at the feel of her
tongue on his skin. "I was thinking we could start by seeing how well you've
retained last week's lesson, and then move on to something new."
"Sounds good," he said in a thick voice. "What did you have in mind?"
She caught his fingertip between her teeth. "Can't you guess, baby? Tonight's
lesson is all about fingering."
===============================================================================
It turned out he'd retained last week's lesson extremely well. She lay
whimpering as his mouth and fingers worked her nipples, alternating back and
forth between them until they were both swollen and aching, but when his hand
started to drift up her skirt she stopped him.
"Whoa there, cowboy," she said. "We've got a few things to cover before you get
there."
He pulled away. "I didn't read it wrong, did I? You seem pretty ready."
"Oh yeah. Super ready. No worries there." She smiled and gently pushed his
shoulder until he flipped onto his back. "Let's get these pesky clothes off
you, baby."
She rucked the hem of his shirt up and kissed him just above the waist of his
pants. Trailed her mouth up his body and stripped it off. She straddled his
legs and leaned down to kiss him as she unfastened his pants and drew down the
zipper. Her hand stopped just short of touching his cock and he let out a
frustrated his.
There were two buttons on her short black skirt: one on the left, the other on
the right. She undid them and just like that her skirt was off, unwrapped and
tossed aside. He gaped at her.
"Holy crap," he said. "That was just like Liv Tyler in Empire Records."
Her brow quirked in acknowledgement. "Funny you should say that."
The sight of her in nothing but white cotton panties and those damn striped
socks was incredibly distracting. His hands trailed up her smooth thighs. "How
come?" he said.
"I'll tell you later." She stretched out beside him and gave his pants leg a
little tug.
He took the hint and stripped them off. She bit her lip at the sight of his
black boxer briefs. He had amazing legs, thick thighs and well-muscled calves,
and a cute little butt. The fitted underwear only enhanced the view.
"Nice," she murmured.
"What?" he said. "You like these?"
"They're sort of a weakness of mine," she said.
He smirked. "I'll keep that in mind." He tapped her leg. "The socks are a
weakness of mine."
"Duh," she said with a grin.
"Think you could leave them on?" he rasped. He pressed a kiss to the center of
her chest and she ran her fingers over his hair.
"I was planning on it, baby."
He flicked the waistband of her panties. "What about these?"
"Nope," she said. "Those can go." She wiggled out of them and he let out a hard
breath. He reached for her, but she caught his hand in hers. "Not so fast,
handsome. I told you we had some things to cover."
He made a face. "Liv, I know how to—"
"Do you? Because honestly in my experience this is actually the hardest part
for a guy to get right. Admittedly my experience is two guys who didn't know
what they were doing and one who did, but still."
His brows drew together. He'd agreed to follow her rules, hadn't he? And he
could always stand to learn more. Anything to get her making those desperate
little noises again.
She could tell by his expression that he'd conceded the point. "Turn over,
Juicy. On your side."
He rested his hand on her belly and kissed the side of her neck. "Help me, Obi
Wan Kenobe. You're my only hope."
"I better be." He bit her ear and she giggled. "Okay, okay. Basics first. Guys
act like a woman's orgasm is the most complicated, elusive thing ever, but
honestly it's super fucking easy: get her turned on, then go for the clit.
That's it. Clitoris."
"I know what a clit is, Olivia."
She grinned at his affronted tone. "Of course you do, baby. I'm just trying to
demystify it for you."
He cleared his throat. "I don't get it. The other night on the phone, and then
last week…it seemed like you came pretty easy. So why…I mean, why would Asia
and Dana not get off? And why would it be hard for you to before?"
"The thing that differentiates a girl's orgasm from a guy's is the time it
takes. It can take a girl as long as twenty minutes to come, but a guy…?"
"Ah. So, like, we're in a big hurry and we sorta leave you behind?"
"Yup. And because no one's bothered to teach you how not to leave us behind,
and because so many girls fake it, you don't know any better."
He tickled her ribs just to make her wiggle. "So why do girls fake it?"
"A lot of reasons. Maybe they're not super into it and just wanna get it over
with." She shrugged a little at his expression. "It happens. A lot of it,
though, is that women aren't taught about their own pleasure, either. So maybe
they don't even really know what an orgasm is, or what it should feel like.
We're taught, both subtly and explicitly in a thousand tiny ways, that men are
more important than we are, and that our experience doesn't even really matter
that much."
"That's stupid."
"No shit. It's advantageous to men to advance this myth that a woman's orgasm
is some mythical, unattainable thing because then they can still clap
themselves on the back when they completely and totally fail to satisfy the
women they fuck. Good try, old man! You know how those lady parts are! It's
like the goddamn Amazonian rain forest in there!"
He laughed hard enough to lose his balance and fall against her. "Wow, Liv."
"Well. Am I lying?"
"No," he said. "I guess not."
"Okay. So now you'll know and it won't be a mystery and every single woman you
sleep with after me will owe me cookies."
He ducked his head. They were in high school, for fuck's sake. Of course
there'd be other girls after her. And there'd be other guys after him, but that
was the last thing he wanted to think about.
He took a deep breath. "So where do we start?"
"You've already done a fine and thorough job of the turning me on part, so now
we can move along to regions further south. Take note, m'love: don't touch my
pussy until you have me panting."
"Duly noted," he said with a salute and a cocky grin.
She took his hand and guided him between her legs. "Some anatomy first," she
said. "Labia majora, outer lips."
"Did you shave?" he said, surprised and way more turned on than he thought he
would be. "I mean, last week, too. Because that day in the break room…"
"I got a wax. A little," she said, blushing. "I don't like the completely bare
look."
"Me neither. Maybe it's the red; I don't know; but it's super sexy."
She flashed him a pleased grin. "I thought it would be easier if things were,
you know. Smooth. Line of sight issues, I guess."
"You really do think a lot, don't you?"
"Nothing wrong with being prepared. Now, are you paying attention?"
"Outer lips," he repeated. "Uh huh."
"Good."
She kissed him. Used his fingers to spread herself open. His breath caught when
he felt how wet she was, and hers quickened as his fingertip trailed against
her.
"Labia minora," she said, her voice going husky. "Inner lips. Very sensitive,
especially when aroused."
"I noticed," he said and stroked her again.
She bit her lip to muffle a small moan.
"Focus, Gable," he said.
"You focus, Ortiz," she grumbled. She shook her head to clear it and slid his
finger into her just a little. "Vagina. Fairly self-explanatory."
"Wait a sec. I thought the whole thing was the vagina."
"No, babe. The whole thing is the vulva. The vagina is literally just the part
you stick your penis in."
"Oh," he said, nonplussed. "Good to know."
She added her finger to his and tried to keep her voice steady. "Hook your
fingers a little. Like that, yeah. Just like that." Her eyes closed and she
moved her hips against their hands.
He nibbled the side of her neck. "Getting distracted, baby?"
"Nuh uh," she whispered. "Um. Do you feel that? It's sorta—fuck
oh God don't press on it I'm trying to talk here."
"Hum." He did it again, a little harder. "You like that, huh?"
"It's my G-spot. You bet your ass I like that."
"Ohhh," he said, fascinated. He flexed his finger inside her and brushed back
and forth across it. "So I guess it's more than just…shoving your fingers in
and out, huh?"
"A little." She grabbed his wrist and pulled him away. "Behave. We haven't even
gotten to the main event yet."
"I'm listening," he said.
She swallowed and licked her lips. "I can come just from G-spot stimulation,
but not all women can. Most women—myself included—like that combined with"—she
slid his finger north—"clitoral stimulation."
"Ah." He tapped the little button and she let out a sharp gasp.
"So, um. You can make just about any woman come by just playing with her clit a
whole lot. But that's kinda boring, so it's better if you—Juicy, holy shit
hang on—mix it up a little."
"You mean like…" He spread his fingers and rubbed her inner lips, back and
forth. "Then maybe…" He brushed his fingertip around her clit without actually
touching it. Slid down to dip inside and then back up to flick over it.
"Something like that?"
"Uh huh," she said with a drunken nod. "I really like…um, the thing you just
did. From my clit, inside, and then back. Slow at first, and then—" She broke
off with a moan. He had two fingers against her clit and was massaging it in
lazy circles.
He nuzzled her ear and kissed the spot just behind it. "You ready for me to
make you come, baby?"
"Yes!" she gasped. "Please, Juicy!"
He groaned and thrust two fingers into her. Her hips came up off the sleeping
bag when he twisted them to press against the back wall. His knuckles hit her
G-spot as he worked them in and out.
"Oh God," she moaned. "That's so good, baby, oh God yes…!"
"You want me to play with your clit some too?" he said in that low rasp that
sent shivers down her spine.
"Yeah," she said on a whimper. "Yeah, babe, please."
He rotated his hand again, and his thumb rubbed across the swollen nub. She
hooked her arm against his chest to tangle her fingers in his hair. Her mouth
fell open as her breath came in deep, shuddering gasps.
"That's right, Livvie," he grated between kisses to her neck. "So good, baby.
So goddamn sexy." He licked a drop of sweat from her temple. A fistful of
sleeping bag in her free hand, the knee opposite him bent, and her hips moving
with his thrusts. "Come for me, Livvie. Let me feel your sweet cunt as you come
on my hand."
He'd caught on really fast to how much she loved hearing his voice. She was so
close, right on the edge, and the sound of those rough whispers in her ear sent
her flying over it.
"Fuck!" she cried. She clenched around him, her entire body going tight, and
dissolved into a chant of his name punctuated by wordless panting. "Don't
stop!" she moaned and he worked her G-spot through the shudders.
Finally it began to subside, and as she spiraled down she grabbed his hand.
"Okay stop now," she said with a breathless laugh.
"Wow," he said. He rested his slick fingers against her thigh, just above her
sock, and she pulled his hand to her mouth to suck one of them clean. Lifted a
brow in his direction and he sucked on the other one. Moaned at the musky taste
of her. "Fuck, Livvie."
"You like the way I taste, Juicy?"
His head lifted and fell in a nod. "You know I do. I wanna lick your pussy so
bad."
"Patience, young grasshopper. You're making excellent progress." Her brow
furrowed. "It usually isn't quite this easy, you should know."
"For you, you mean?"
"Yep." She shifted a little. "I sometimes…it can be hard for me to relax. Let
go, you know?"
"I've noticed that problem other places, but not here," he said with a wry tilt
to his mouth.
"Are you calling me a control freak?"
He lifted a hand. "You said it, babe, not me."
She sighed and carded her fingers through his hair. "I am. It's true."
He hesitated. "Was it…did you ever have trouble like that…with, uh, Ben?"
"Glad you stopped calling him Mr. Collins. Um. Sometimes. I mean, not after
we'd been together a little bit, but at first, yeah."
"But you're saying it's not like that with me."
"Maybe that's the difference between pot roast and cotton candy?" she said,
grinning.
"I kinda think it is," he said. He ran his thumb over her nipple. "You trust
me, Liv. Right?"
"Yeah, Juicy," she said after a moment. "Of course I do."
"Good. I trust you, too."
She cast him a look. "Is there something on your mind?"
"Not particularly, but I think there's maybe something on yours." His tone was
easy, casual, and he pressed his mouth against her jaw as he said it.
"What do you mean?"
"Don't know. What did you mean earlier?"
"Ah," she said as she clued in. "Did you know already?"
"That you're into girls? Yeah. I've known a while."
"Oh. Who—?"
"Jax or Opie mentioned it sometime, like it was no big deal. And it's not. At
least not to me." He studied her face. "I guess maybe I don't understand what
that's all about. Clearly you like what we do, but you...like girls?"
"It's called bisexuality, babe. I like both."
"At the same time?" he said, his brows lifting.
"I've never tried that. Maybe. But in general, no."
"Did that question piss you off?"
She thought it over. "Sort of. But not because of you; I know you didn't mean
anything by it. It's just that…people have all these ideas about what bisexuals
are, like that we're promiscuous and confused and greedy." Her mouth quirked.
"I'm greedy, I'll give them that. I want all the cute boys and all the cute
girls!"
He grinned. "At the same time?"
"Shut up, Ortiz," she said. "I'm not any different than someone's who's
straight or gay. Just like you see a girl and might think she's cute, maybe
even imagine…something, I don't know what goes on in your head…I do the same
thing. But just because you think someone's attractive doesn't mean you're
going to try to fuck them."
He let out a breath. "Just seems like…a slightly bigger pool of people to pick
from."
"Well it is. Sort of, because I mean they have to be gay or bi or straight,
depending, to be interested in me. And it doesn't make any difference anyway:
just because I'm attracted to a wider variety of people doesn't make me any
more likely to act on it."
"Okay," he said after a moment. "Have you ever had sex with a girl?"
"Nope. You know who I've had sex with. Well, the one guy I just sort of
mentioned in passing is some dude named Justin Fitzhugh. He moved away over the
summer." She smiled at him a little. "I have made out with a girl."
"Oh. And it was…?" He didn't know what word to use. Good? Hot? He didn't want
to offend her, but he was insanely curious, and only partially because it was a
turn on. Knowing that would probably piss her off.
"It was fine. She was a stranger, so it wasn't super hot or anything." She
touched his shoulder. "Just ask what you wanna ask, Juicy. I won't get mad."
His face creased. "How did you know?"
"Um." She grinned. "You know that Aerosmith video with Alicia Silverstone and
Liv Tyler?"
"Yeah, Liv. It's kind of unforgettable." He blinked at her. "You—holy shit. You
got any idea how many times I jerked off to that video?"
"Probably about as often as I did."
A flush spread across his chest. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't—"
"It's okay. I get that it turns you on. I don't quite understand why, but I
guess it's just a guy thing."
Their eyes met as he thought it over. "Girls are really pretty," he finally
said.
"You're tellin' me."
He grinned, briefly. "So, like, with you. I've been imagining you naked for a
long time. That's kinda sleazy, but I can't help it. You're sexy as hell and
you turn me on like nobody I've ever met."
"Oh," she said, a soft sound of surprise.
He flashed a sheepish grin. "Come on, Liv, you gotta know that." His fingers
brushed her thigh as he dismissed it. "Anyway, when I think about you with
your…body…and your mouth and your hair…and then I think of another hot girl and
you're all pressed together and—" He broke off and swallowed.
She turned over to face him and captured his mouth with hers. "I guess the idea
of me with two girls must really get you going," she murmured against his lips.
"Because that's what I used to imagine when I watched that video."
"Haa," he said on a shaky breath. "That might be more than I can handle right
now."
Her palm skimmed his belly. "I like turning you on, Ortiz. Normally it pisses
me off when a guy fantasizes about me with another girl, but I know it's
different with you."
"It is?"
"Yeah. You're not gross. I don't know how to explain it other than that. I
never talked about this stuff with Ben. I mean, he knew I'm bi, but I never—we
talked about pretty much everything else, but I just didn't want to get into
any of this."
"So I guess you do trust me."
"I guess I do. I hope you don't think…I don't tell many people. Jax, Opie, and
Tara know. My dad. The girl I made out with, I guess. Ben, like I said. That's
it."
"It's kind of a big deal," he said.
"It is. Does it bother you?"
"That you're bi? No, babe. Of course not. Didn't I sorta say that already?"
"I just wanted to make sure." A pause. Then, "I consider us exclusive, Juice."
He frowned at her, confused. "So do I."
"That means I won't be kissing anyone else. Boys or girls."
"I know, Olivia. I don't think you're gonna jump the next hot girl you see. I'm
okay. We're okay. Okay?"
Her lips curved. "You realize your dick is pressing against me and it's really
fucking distracting."
"You think it's distracting you? Every time you breathe I lose my mind a
little."
"Oh. I'll hold my breath."
He draped his arm over her to caress her ass. "Not necessary. I prefer you
awake."
"High standards, Ortiz."
"I'm a gentleman."
Her breath caught as his fingertip traced the curve of her buttocks. He slid
his hand between her legs and trailed the same finger against her slick labia
and back, over the tight pucker between her cheeks. She squirmed a little and
made a soft, breathy noise.
"You like that?" he said, his voice going husky.
"Uh huh."
He paused. "We're being honest, right? Not holding back just because…I don't
know. It might seem too personal?"
She lifted her head to look at him. "At this point what exactly is too
personal?"
"I don't know. Maybe some things."
"You can ask me anything, Juicy. I guess there's a tiny possibility I won't
answer, but I won't get pissed at you for asking."
He took a long breath and tilted his head in a here goes gesture. "Have you
ever thought about trying anal?"
At the look on her face his eyes went round.
"You've done anal," he said, astounded. "Did you—did you like it?"
"Um." She thought it over. "It was…interesting. They say it gets better the
more times you do it, and I've only done it twice."
"Twice? Olivia, how many dicks have you had in your ass?"
"What a way to put it. Just one, Ortiz. On two separate occasions."
"You guys were only together a month!"
She sighed. "The entire point of the relationship was to explore new things.
So. I did." She poked him. "If you're asking if I'd be willing to try anal with
you, the answer is yes. Not tonight, obviously, because we don't have the right
kind of lube or anything, but maybe sometime."
"The right kind of lube? We've got lube?"
"Oh, Juan Carlos. Your priorities." She sat up and dug through her bag. When
she came back she had a small bottle in her hand. "It's massage oil. Great for
massages, not so great for sticking your dick in my ass."
"All right, all right, I'm sorry I said it like that."
"You should be sorry. Jerk."
He ran his tongue over her lip. She slid her leg up to wrap around his hips and
he ground against her.
"You're so hard, baby," she whispered.
"No shit. I'm actually getting dizzy from the lack of blood getting to my
brain."
She giggled. "I think maybe I can help."
"Is it gonna involve massage oil?"
She pushed him onto his back and straddled his thighs. "Maybe. If you ask real
sweet."
He slid his hands up her body. "I think I can handle that," he said with a
grin.
Chapter End Notes
     This chapter was originally going to be a lot smuttier, but they
     insisted on having an actual conversation and sidetracked the porn.
     sigh.
     I didn't publish yesterday bc I've been so freaking stuck. I finally
     finished ch24 after working on it for...I don't know. Three days?
     Four? I think it should be okay now, but any kind words would be so
     appreciated. :)
     PS: Um. Hi. So. Sort of in deference to my poor, blocked brain, I
     started a kind of, um. Secret fic? It'll only be published here. It's
     Juice and Olivia post-Come With Me Tonight. But it's serious crack,
     so it's not like an ACTUAL sequel. Just. Go look if you're
     interested. It's called Under My Skin.
***** A Better Time *****
                           scent of pine drifting by
                       her hand traces lazy on your neck
                          sunlight through the trees
                             recalls a better time
                       Better Than Ezra, "Southern Gurl"
The guys had come back from their hike filthy and exhausted, and Juice declared
he was never doing anything like that again and nature was fine for bears and
shit but he wanted to stay inside. Forever.
"I told you," Olivia whispered to him later that night. "You shoulda stayed
here with me. We could've gone for a nice little walk and made out all day."
He lifted a brow. "I don't think I could stand making out with you all day,
Liv," he said under his breath. "Last night almost killed me."
She patted his knee. "Don't be such a baby, Ortiz. You came, didn't you?"
"Finally!"
Her lips brushed his temple. "It was only like half an hour. Besides, I didn't
exactly hear you complain." She lowered her voice further. "But, then, you were
awfully busy begging and moaning my name."
He choked on his beer, and Opie cast them a curious look. "You okay, man?" he
said.
"Yeah," Juice said as Olivia patted him on the back. "It just went down the
wrong way."
"Try not to choke to death. I think Opie's the only here who knows CPR, and he
doesn't wanna give you mouth-to-mouth," Jax said.
"We'd hate to start a gay panic," Olivia said and rolled her eyes.
Tara snickered while Opie and Jax glared at her. Juice was smart enough to keep
his mouth shut.
Donna reappeared from the bathroom and paused. "What did I miss?"
"Not a damn thing," Tara said. She dragged her chair closer and added a little
more vodka to her orange juice. "So we gonna play or not?"
"I'm down," said Donna.
"Sure," Olivia said. "Let's do it."
"What is this game again?" said Juice.
"It's simple," Jax told him. "Basically you say somethin' you haven't done, and
anybody who has has to take a drink. I'll go first. Never have I ever…kissed a
dude."
Olivia, Donna, and Tara drank.
"Pretty self-explanatory," Olivia said with a grin.
"You next, babe?" Jax said to Tara.
"Okay. Um…never have I ever…had sex in a pool."
Nobody moved, except Juice, who took a long pull off his beer.
"Seriously, dude?" Opie said.
He gave a sheepish shrug. "Dana has a pool."
The guys whistled. "Dana Riley in the pool. Go, Ortiz," Jax said.
Juice gave Olivia an apologetic grimace, but she just shrugged. "Before my
time, kid. No worries."
Opie was next. "Uh…guess I'll continue the water theme. Never have I ever gone
skinny dipping."
Olivia, Juice, and Jax drank. Olivia pointed at Tara. "Lying bitch," she said.
"Oh, shit." Tara giggled and sipped. "I forgot."
"Ouch, babe," Jax said.
"I was drunk. The whole night is kind of a blur."
"How have the three of you been skinny dipping and I haven't?" Opie said.
"It was last summer, man," Jax said. "Your dad made you stay home because you
broke that window with the basketball."
"Ohh," he said. "So why didn't anybody tell me about it?"
"Wasn't much to tell," Olivia said. "They actually talked me into drinking for
once, so all three of us were kinda looped, and it was a dare."
"No big," Jax said with a shrug.
"My turn now?" Donna said. She'd been watching them through this last little
exchange, and she was curious about something. When they nodded that she should
go ahead, she took a deep breath. "Never have I ever made out with Olivia."
There was a brief pause, and then everyone except Donna and Olivia raised their
cups. "Holy shit," Donna said with a laugh.
Olivia gave a dry shake of her head. "I guess my reputation isn't entirely
unearned."
"Wait a minute," Jax and Tara said at the same time.
"Making out is a little bit of an overstatement," Olivia said to Tara. "It was
your twelfth birthday party. Seven minutes in heaven?"
"Oh. Fuck, wow, my memory's shit. I forgot you guys…" She made a gesture and
Olivia laughed.
"She's overrated," Jax said with a wave. "Didn't even use tongue."
"Long time since she was twelve, dude," Juice said.
Olivia glared at Jax and nudged Juice with her shoulder. He grinned, and she
couldn't hold the heated look.
"I wanna know why you took a drink, Tara!" Donna said.
She and Olivia shared a glance, and Tara shrugged. "Sally Volstead's Spring
Break party last year. Jax wasn't there because we were on a temporary break."
Jax snorted. "One of many that year."
"As so many of our misadventures do, this one began with alcohol," Olivia said.
"We figured what the hell?"
"It lasted like five minutes and we both realized Tara's not into chicks, and
I'm not into Tara."
"But such a hot five minutes," Tara said and fanned herself.
"Five of the hottest minutes of my life, baby," Olivia said.
Tara reached for her. Olivia grabbed her hand. They surged to their feet and
embraced as the others cracked up laughing.
"Sorry, boys," Tara said. "I think we changed our minds."
"I don't know if I'm pissed or turned on," Jax said.
"Come on, baby," Tara said and pulled him out of his chair. "I'll give you one
more shot."
"Don't fuck it up, Jax. I'll be waitin' right here if you do," Olivia said.
He bumped into her and she fell back onto the couch with a laugh. "Watch it,
Teller!"
"Oh, sorry, didn't see ya there. Too busy lookin' at my woman."
"Good answer," Tara said. The bedroom door closed behind them and a small
silence fell.
She'd landed half on Juice. She craned her neck to look at him. "Nothin' to
say?"
"Nope," he said. "I'm good."
She smiled, and the look in her eyes was clear: if we were alone I'd be kissing
you right now.
Donna cleared her throat. "Ollie, I hope I didn't say the wrong thing."
"What?" Olivia said. She waved a hand. "Nah, of course not. It was funny. If
you'd said the same thing about Tara, I think it'd be everyone but you and
Ortiz takin' a drink."
Donna looked at Opie. He flushed. "Her twelfth birthday party was a wild time."
"Spin the Bottle is the devil's own party game," Olivia said.
"Hhmm," Donna said. She didn't look mad, exactly, but Olivia thought it might
be prudent to give them some time to talk it out.
"Shall we retire, Juan Carlos?" she said over her shoulder.
He'd apparently picked up on the same vibe. He grabbed her around the waist and
lifted her to her feet. "Let's hit it," he said.
They all said goodnight, and as the door closed behind them, Olivia and Juice
heard Donna say, "Have you kissed Jax, too?"
Olivia giggled and fell against Juice's shoulder. "Wow," she said.
"Uh huh." He caught her by the arms and held on. "You're a little drunk, babe."
"Ugh. This is why I don't drink."
"Because you giggle a lot?"
"More like…" She leaned into him and ran her nose up the side of his neck.
"More like I get incredibly horny and I kinda want to rip your clothes off
right now."
He froze. The idea had definite appeal…but he thought she might regret it in
the morning. And he didn't want to have sex with her for the first time when
they were both drunk. It was a small thing, considering everything they'd done
together, but it didn't feel small.
"Let's go for a walk," he said. "Sober up a little."
"No clothes-ripping?" she said.
"Nah. I like this shirt." He threw an arm over her shoulders and led her across
the yard, away from their tent.
"We have a good time together, don't we, Ortiz?" she said.
"I think we do."
"I don't mean just sex."
"I didn't think you did," he said, mildly.
She hugged his waist. "Let's try something. You down?"
"Uhh…maybe I should find out what it is first."
"Oh." She giggled. "Very cautious of you, sugar. I approve."
They walked a little while longer in silence, until he nudged her. "You gonna
tell me or is it a surprise?"
"I'm thinking it over."
"Okay," he said. "Let me know."
About two hundred yards or so from the cabin was a little stream. They hit it
now, and Juice turned north (not that he'd know north from south with a map, a
compass, and a Boy Scout guide) and they picked their way along it until they
came to an open spot, like a little glade.
"It's like your thinking place," Olivia said.
"Yeah, it is." He shrugged out of his jacket and spread it on the ground. She
dropped onto it and he sat down next to her. Their lips met, soft and sweet,
and with a little sigh she pulled him after her as she stretched out.
"Do you want to have sex with me, Juicy?" she murmured against his mouth.
He raised his head. "Is that what you want to try?"
"Well. No. I was just curious."
He frowned and shifted so that he wasn't on top of her. "You know I do."
"Right now?"
"We're both a little drunk. Not sure it's a great idea."
"I agree."
"Well…good. Glad we settled that." He flipped onto his back, and she turned
onto her side to face him. His fingers toyed with hers. "What's on your mind,
Liv?"
She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. "I thought maybe…I thought it might be
nice if for the rest of the weekend we just…I don't know. We kept our clothes
on? Didn't…mess around, really. Kissing is fine, of course, and maybe some
light petting, but…I don't know. Maybe it's a terrible idea."
"No," he said. "No, it's a pretty good idea." It was Friday, which meant they
had tonight and tomorrow. Two nights in the tent with her. He could do that. A
crease formed across his forehead. "Is everything okay, though?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I just—" She laughed a little. "Two reasons. One, it would be nice
to see how we are together when we aren't, you know."
"Naked. Right."
"And also." She wrinkled her nose. "I started my period. I get it four times a
year because of the Pill I'm on, and it would have to be this weekend."
"Oh. Okay," he said after a brief pause.
She eyed him, suspicious of how nonchalant he sounded. "You aren't gonna freak
out, are you?"
He snorted. "Liv, I grew up in a one bathroom apartment with a single mom. I
think I'll be okay."
"You've seen a tampon before."
"Uh huh."
She grinned and kissed him. "It's a good excuse for us to actually talk. About
something other than sex, I mean."
"I like that idea," he said. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Are you mad I didn't tell you about Tara and me last night?" she said in a
rush.
He blinked, taken aback. "Um. No. That didn't occur to me. I figured maybe you
guys had one of those girl pacts. You know, no telling anyone."
"We did. But so much for that." She flicked her fingers. "I don't mind you guys
knowing, though. I guess she doesn't either. It really wasn't a big deal. It
was honestly like kissing…well, you know. Your best friend."
He hesitated. "I've never kissed my best friend," he finally said.
"Oh." She thought about it a second. "So, like. I guess unless the person has
nasty breath or is really rough or something, kissing's pretty much always
nice, right?"
"It has a lot of things I like," he said. "It's hot. Wet." He ran his thumb
over her full lower lip. His voice had gone husky. "Slippery."
"It's been thirty seconds, Ortiz."
A grin split his face. "Sorry."
"Sure you are," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "I could give you a
blowjob if you wanted."
"Wha—? No, Livvie, that's okay. I mean, yeah, I'd love a blowjob, but no. It's
fine." He pressed a brief kiss to her mouth. "You were telling me about kissing
Tara."
"Hhmm. Well, like I said, it was nice. Like kissing is. But it
didn't do anything for either one of us, so that was that."
"End of story?"
"End of story. Sorry to disappoint, baby."
"I think I'll figure out a way to live with it."
"Oh good," she said. "I thought you might. You have enough Liv Tyler/Alicia
Silverstone/me three-way imagery in your spank bank to last a lifetime."
He spluttered. "Holy shit, Olivia!"
"Well?"
He sighed. "Yeah."
"Good," she said with a grin.
Maybe he should've taken her up on that offer for a blowjob. He shifted to ease
the discomfort in his pants. How the hell did she turn him on so easily? He was
sixteen, and random boners were may more common than he was comfortable with,
but it seemed like when he was around her it was like constant hard-on.
She must've picked on some of what he was thinking from his face—Juice was
actually really terrible at poker—because her mouth curved. "It's funny, isn't
it? Like, even when I was trying to convince myself how much Ididn't want you,
I still did."
"Huh. When was that?"
"After Christmas." She blushed. "Before Christmas. Practically from the day we
met, but I guess I didn't realize it until the night you picked me up. After
the TJ thing."
His brows quirked. "I thought you kinda hated me."
"Basically, yeah. Because when we first met I was trying to convince myself TJ
was who I wanted to be with, and then later I was mad because I'd cried all
over you—"
"Jax and Ope said that was a one-way ticket to your shit list."
She grimaced. "They weren't wrong. Anyway, then Christmas happened and wow. You
know all about that. I just wanted you out of my head."
"That's how I felt after you told me about Ben. You got any idea how bad I
wanted to kiss you that night in your kitchen? It made me feel like an asshole.
Who wants to kiss a girl when she's crying because her dickhead boyfriend
attacked her and left her on the side of the road?"
"I don't know," she said. Her fingers twined through his. "I think it's one of
those things, you know? Like strong emotion breeds strong reactions. It's like
how sometimes you wanna kiss somebody when you're really mad at them."
"Like that day in your car?"
"Like that, yep. I swear to God if you'd actually kissed me that day we might
both have gotten expelled for fucking in the parking lot."
"You were with Ben," he said with a shocked laugh.
"And you were with Dana. You saying the potential wasn't there?"
His mouth twisted. "Yeah. It was definitely there." A short pause. Then, "I'm
glad I didn't kiss you then."
"Me too," she said, softly. "It would've been all wrong. Angry sex is fine—I
guess, I've never actually had it—but not with us. Not for like our first
time."
"I thought you'd had every kind of sex with your sex-sensei."
She made a complex noise, sort of like a hum/snort combination. "Let me explain
something to you, sweetheart: Ben and I had fun. A lot of fun. That's it. There
wasn't any anger, ever. It was just laughs and good times. Cotton candy."
He thought that over. "I don't like carrots," he said.
She blinked at him and he waved a hand. "Pot roast usually has carrots in it. I
don't like them. There's nothing wrong with cotton candy, really. It's just
sugar. But pot roast, even though it's really good, has that one thing that
kinda makes me go ugh."
"There's a part of me that makes you go ugh?" she said, doubtfully.
His chin tilted away and he blushed. "No. But you're not perfect, Liv. Neither
am I."
"I like carrots," she said after a moment.
"Good. You can have mine."
She blew out a slow breath. Maybe it was time to change the subject. "Tell me
something, Juan Carlos."
"Um. Sure…?"
"I mean," she said with a grin, "tell me something important. Something you
want. Something you haven't ever told anyone before because you're afraid if
you say it out loud it won't happen."
"Like a birthday wish?" he said.
"Yeah, but serious."
"Hum." His brows drew together as he thought about it. Turned over to face her
and brushed a strand of hair off her face. "I really wanna meet my dad," he
said at last, his voice quiet.
She remembered that day in the car. He'd said he'd never met his father and
she'd made some sort of nasty remark that had prompted him to make that oh-so-
fateful declaration that she got mean when people tried to get close. She
swallowed.
"When did he take off?"
His hand trailed down her ribs to rest on her hip. "When my mom was pregnant. I
guess he decided having a kid was too much trouble."
"If that's what he thought then maybe you don't want him in your life."
"No." He cleared his throat and tried again. "No, I know. And it's part of why
I don't want to meet him, because what if he's a junkie or a killer or he's in
jail or some shit? Or…" His face scrunched and he trailed off.
She ran her fingers over his cheek when he dropped her eyes. "Or what, Juicy?"
He hitched a shoulder. "What if he has a family now? Like a wife and a couple
kids and a house in the suburbs and a dog and—"
He broke off and bit down hard on his lip.
"How old were they?"
Juice sniffed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "My mom was eighteen and my
dad was nineteen."
"That's really young, baby. He's had sixteen years to grow up and get a clue."
"Sixteen years to find me."
She kissed the corner of his jaw. "You're ten times the man at sixteen than he
was at nineteen. I know that much."
He stared at her. "Why d'you say that?"
Her mouth curved. "I know things. I know you."
"Huh." Now he smiled a little, too. "Tell me three non-sexual things you know
about me."
She laughed. "Oh man. Let me think." She flipped over to her back and chewed
her lip. Raised an arm and held up her index finger.
"One. You used to do homework for kids back in Queens for fifty bucks each."
"Ahh…so that's not entirely accurate."
She cut him a look. "It's what you told me."
"I know. But I didn't actually do the homework. I found papers and shit online
and gave them those. I even found this huge database of stuff that was like
college professors only and hacked into it. That's when I raised my prices from
thirty to fifty."
"Wow," she said. "That still counts, though. Not my fault you didn't tell me
the whole story."
"It's entirely your fault. You were…and I was…how could I possibly think about
homework when all I wanted to do was lick you like an ice cream cone?"
She shivered a little. Cleared her throat and held up a second finger. "Two.
You don't like crowds. Hanging out with a bunch of people, like at a party or
something. You'd rather be with just a couple friends, or even by yourself."
"Or with you." He frowned. "How do you know that?"
She turned her head toward him, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"Don't let this go to your head, but I'm…I'm pretty much always aware of you.
If you're in the room. When you leave it." She tapped the back of his hand.
"You were at the art expo awards thing, weren't you?"
"Mr. Collins—Ben—invited the whole class, so I thought—"
"It's sweet, Ortiz." She twisted to face him again. "I looked for you after
they gave out the awards and stuff, but I couldn't find you. I thought maybe
I'd been wrong. I hadn't really seen you."
"Nah," he said, embarrassed. "I was there."
Leaning closer, still smiling, she slid her lips over his. "I really like you,
Juicy."
"I like you too, Liv," he murmured before he kissed her.
Their tongues brushed. She tasted like OJ spiked with vodka, and her body was
incredibly soft and warm against his. He let out a groan and hauled her closer.
His leg slid between her thighs and her fingers tightened in his hair.
He broke away and grinned at her. "Stop trying to distract me, Gable. You owe
me one more."
She blinked at him through fuzzy green eyes. "You're the one who—"
He gave her a look and she rolled her eyes.
"Fine." She trailed a fingertip down the side of his neck. Tapped a spot just
above and to the left of his Adam's apple. "When I kiss you right here you make
the sexiest little noise. When I suck right here—"
"Whoa, hang on. Non-sexual."
Her face moved in a scowl, but there was no heat in it. "Fine," she said. "Your
favorite color is red. Your favorite food is tater tots, which is weird as hell
but whatever. You can quote Easy Rider and The Wild Bunch word for word. The
Crow, too, but only when you're in the right mood. You hate Nirvana, but you
pretend you don't. You dig Pearl Jam, but you pretend you don't."
"Eddie Vedder's a pussy," he said with a dismissive snort.
"Case in point." She kissed his nose. "You love animals, and I kinda think
you're more of a cat person than a dog person. You keep your locker neater than
any high school boy I've ever seen. You get personally offended if someone
talks shit about Derek Jeter." Her voice dropped. "You really like ice cream."
"Nothing sexual, Olivia!"
"What?" she said, wide-eyed and innocent. "I like ice cream too. I like licking
it."
He scraped a hand down his face. "You're impossible."
"Part of my charm."
"Uh huh," he said, doubtfully.
She kissed that spot on his neck he liked just to hear him make the noise.
"Olivia," he said, drawing out the middle syllables of her name. "You're not
makin' this easy, babe."
She pulled back with a sigh. "What do you know about your dad?"
"Huh?"
"I'm changing the subject. What do you know about your dad?"
"Oh." He made a face. "His name. That's about it."
"I don't know, Juicy. With your computer skills, I'd think armed with a name,
his known location sixteen years ago, and the year he was born, you'd be able
to track him down."
"I guess," he said. "Maybe." He looked away. "I guess it comes back to that
whole not sure if I want to after all thing."
"Ignorance is bliss?"
"Somethin' like that." He gave a restless sort of shrug. "I don't know if I
want to meet him for real, but it'd at least be nice to have the option. I've
never had any sort of dad-like person in my life. It might be kinda neat."
"You can borrow mine," she said. "He seems to like you, and I think he's always
been disappointed he didn't have a boy." At his look her mouth quirked. "I
don't mean he wishes I were a boy. He just wishes I had a brother."
"Yeah," he said, stretching the syllable doubtfully. "Remember how we weren't
gonna use words like that?"
She giggled. "Sorry, babe. The offer stands, though. Maybe come over sometime
and watch a baseball game. Only a couple weeks till opening day."
"That'd be…that'd be cool," he said, quietly.
"It would be cool. And you know my dad's not a junkie, so there's that."
"He's probably not really a junkie."
"No. But it's hard not to think the worst."
"Uh huh."
She studied him through shrewd eyes. "Well, if you change your mind about
wanting to find him, I'd be happy to play John Watson to your Sherlock Holmes."
"How did you make that sound like the plot of a porno?"
"It probably has been the plot of a porno. Two-twenty-one B Boner Street."
"You think that's a thing?" he asked, wide-eyed.
"I bet you a hundred bucks it's a thing. If Edward Penis-Hands is a thing,
surely that is."
"Oh, dude, I've seen that one. It was weird."
"I haven't had the pleasure."
"You're not missin' much." He paused. His expression turned hesitant as he
studied her. "What's your thing? The thing you want?"
"It's stupid."
"I doubt that."
He waited her out while she wrestled with it. Getting real, honest information
out of her could sometimes be like getting blood from a stone. And it was never
smart to push her. If she felt cornered she could lash out.
"Is it your mom?" he said, finally.
She gave a quick jerk of her head. "No. I mean, if we lived in some…alterna-
universe where things like that were possible, then yeah." Teeth sank into her
lower lip. "We got in a fight the night before. I was so surprised when she
showed up at school to pick me up like we'd planned, because I figured after
that, she'd—but she didn't. She came anyway."
Her eyes flicked to his, then away. "We used to fight a lot, though. Big
blowouts. We always made up really fast, and my dad said it was just how we
communicated sometimes. I don't know. Doesn't seem like the best way to me.
"Anyway," she said and waved a hand, "my thing is a lot more shallow." She
laughed on a shaky breath. "I want my own show. Art show, I mean. A gallery all
to myself. It doesn't even have to be somewhere big like New York or LA, but
just…something. A space just for my stuff. People can come and see it and…ugh,
it sounds so ridiculous."
"No it doesn't," he said. "It sounds awesome. If I had something like you do
with your art, I'd want that too. Everybody wants people to appreciate what
they do."
Her mouth quirked. "Yeah, I guess so."
"I think that'll happen for you, Liv."
"You do?"
"Yeah. Your stuff's really good. I don't know much about it, but I like it." He
rolled onto his back and hooked an arm under his head. "Besides, didn't Mr. C
leave to go work in a gallery in Portland? I bet he'd show it."
He didn't realize he'd made a mistake until she went stiff and still beside
him. He turned his head slowly, and her face was unreadable.
"You think Ben would give me gallery space, Ortiz?" she said, her voice soft.
"Um. He always liked your sculptures, right? He was like your number one fan.
That's all I meant."
"Oh. So you didn't mean I've fucked my way into a show?"
"No! Liv, come on. I'd never—I mean that didn't—come on, don't look at me like
that!"
Swallowing hard, she looked away. "I'm sorry," she said. "I know you didn't. I
guess I'm more sensitive about it than I would've thought."
"About you and him?"
She nodded. "I never wanted it to get out. It was a decision I made for me. No
one else. I knew people would—they would make it something dirty. It wasn't
like that. Well it was, sometimes, but not in the way they mean."
"I know. I get it."
"I guess if you're not prepared to deal with all the possible consequences of
something, you shouldn't do it."
He dismissed that with a snort. "Bullshit, Olivia. Complete bullshit. You have
a right to some fucking privacy. You weren't hurting anybody and you weren't
doing anything dangerous or illegal. What TJ did was wrong, and it's not
somethin' you should've had to deal with at all."
"You really believe that, Ortiz?" she said, the challenge in her voice ringing
loud and clear.
"Yeah, Liv. I do. You didn't deserve any of this."
She smiled, maybe a little sadly. He carded his fingers through her hair and
kissed her, long and warm.
"Let's go to bed, babe. Jax and Opie about killed me today."
"You big baby," she said with a grin.
"I know it."
He clambered to his feet and pulled her up next to him. They kept their fingers
laced together as they made their way back, and he felt a glow in his chest,
warm and sort of achey, and a kind of drunken happiness. He was holding hands
with Olivia. He was about to curl up in a sleeping bag to go to sleep with
Olivia. He could kiss her anytime he wanted. He could call her up and have a
chat. He could take her for tacos.
His brow furrowed. They'd never actually been on a date. That was weird to
think about, but it made sense given the untraditional nature of their
relationship. He cleared his throat and she shot him a questioning look.
"We got that algebra test Friday," he said.
"Yep."
"Wanna get together Thursday after school to study?"
"That'd be great," she said, smiling. "I'm on at TM until five, but after for
sure."
"We could—we could grab something to eat first."
A tug on his arm stopped him. "You asking me out, Juan Carlos?"
"That depends," he said as he rubbed his free hand over his head. "You gonna
say yes?"
"Hhhmm," she said. Her head tilted back and forth. "Maybe."
He let out a huff. "Always gotta keep things mysterious."
"Ask me and find out."
He leaned into her. His nose brushed hers and they both smiled. "Olivia, would
you like to get something to eat with me on Thursday night and then spend the
evening studying for Mrs. Hanson's sadistic test?"
"You know what, Juicy? I think I would like that."
"Fantastic. I'll pick you up at TM."
"Ew, no. I can't go on a date smelling like the shop. Pick me up at my house,
six o'clock."
"Okay," he said. He ducked his head. "We can see each other between now and
then, right?"
"I think so," she said. She kissed his cheek. "You should know I don't put out
on the first date, though."
"Oh. Well shit." He dropped her hand and backed away. "No deal. I changed my
mind."
She laughed and smacked him on the shoulder. "Shut up, Ortiz. You're such an
idiot."
"Remind me why I wanna take you on a date at all," he said with a puzzled
expression.
"Because you think I'm cute and have a great rack."
"Right," he said with a slow nod. "I knew it was something like that."
He caught her as she fell against him, and they were both laughing. When their
eyes met her breath hitched and she felt her face go hot. Her whole body went
hot, but that was nothing new with him. What was new was that weird little skip
her heart made and the funny little flip her tummy did.
"What?" he said. He sounded kind of breathless, too. "What's that face?"
"No face," she said. "Just, you know. My face."
"I like your face," he murmured.
"I like yours too." Her gaze drifted down to his mouth. "Kiss me now, Juicy."
He sighed. "It's a tough job bein' your boy toy, but somehow I muddle through."
Her giggle morphed into a pleased gasp as their lips met. The stood pressed
together in the moonlight, her arms around his neck and his hands on her waist,
and for a few moments Olivia forgot to be afraid. She kissed the cute boy who
liked her, who she liked back, and for just a little while everything
seemed…perfect.
***** Let Go *****
Chapter Summary
     Someone sends Olivia some disturbing photographs.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                              let go of your fear
                            let's grow old together
                          find a place along the way
                         let's reel through the years
                          each makes the other better
                      but what thoughts can i call allies
              when this circle of ribs keeps working on its own?
                           Better Than Ezra, "WWOZ"
When Olivia got out of Tara's car Sunday evening she saw that her dad was home.
The mill was closed on Sundays, so she wasn't surprised, but sometimes he got
together with some of the guys for a poker game. Not tonight, apparently.
She said her goodbyes to Donna and Tara, grabbed her bag, and jogged up the
path. "Dad?" she called when she got inside. "I'm home!"
His voice floated from the kitchen. "Hey, pumpkin. You want chili?"
"From a can or the real stuff?" she said, leaning against the kitchen doorjamb.
He looked insulted. "The real stuff, Olivia. Come on."
Grinning, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Of course I do. No beans?"
"Nary a bean."
"Excellent. Do I have time for a shower?"
"Yep. It'll be a little bit."
"Great," she said. "I'll be right back."
"Oh, pumpkin."
She turned back with a questioning look and he nodded toward the shelf where
they kept the mail. "You got a letter the other day. Friday, I guess."
"A letter?" She dug through the stack until she found it, a plain white
envelope, thick and heavy with its contents. It had a Charming postmark but no
return address. Strange.
"Kind of felt like photos to me."
She glanced up, but he was too busy puttering at the stove to pay her any
attention. She ripped the envelope open and caught the pictures—he'd been right
about that—before they fell. Her eyes widened as she flipped through them.
"Ollie?"
"Oh," she said, pasting on a smile. "From the, uh…from Opie's birthday party.
Don't know why Tara mailed them rather than just giving them to me this
weekend."
Before he could ask to see them she pivoted on her heel and hurried down the
hall. Once her bedroom door was safely closed and locked behind her she fell on
the bed and stared down at the stack of photos in her hand.
Some of them were from Opie's party; that hadn't been a lie. Others were
clearly taken in the school parking lot. A couple at TM. A few on her goddamn
front porch.
The one thing they all had in common: no matter where they were taken, or from
how far away, each and every photograph pictured Olivia with Juice. She bit her
lip. Okay. The thing with Ben had been bad enough, but this was fucking weird.
The ones of the two of them in her car looked like they'd been taken the day
they had that huge fight. It had to be, because that was the last time they'd
been in the Cougar together.
She shoved a few of them into her desk drawer and picked up the phone. Juice's
mom answered after a couple of rings.
"Hi, Ms. Ortiz," she said, "this is Olivia. May I speak to Juice please?"
"Olivia, please, call me Ana. Juan Carlos is in the shower. Can I take a
message?"
"Um…do you think it'd be possible for him to come over for a few minutes
tonight? Apparently Jax grabbed a sweatshirt of Juice's by mistake, and he gave
it to Tara to give to me…anyway. I have it here and I thought he might want it
back."
There was a brief pause. "It can't wait until school tomorrow?"
"Oh, yeah, of course, but—"
She laughed, cutting Olivia off. "Young love. I understand. I'll send him your
way as soon as he's out."
"It's not—erm. Thanks, Ms. Ortiz—Ana. I'll make sure he brings you some of my
dad's chili."
They said their goodbyes and hung up. Olivia slumped in the desk chair. Maybe
she shouldn't tell him about this. She could just keep it to herself, and…
And what? Deal with TJ on her own when he decided to do more than take
pictures? That would be stupid. If they were just photos of her, fine. But
Juice was in them too and he had a right to know.
Rolling her eyes, she shoved the pictures back into the envelope and hurried to
the bathroom for her shower. She'd need to be quick, because she had a lot more
hair to wash than Juice did.
===============================================================================
She could hear Juice and her dad talking when she dashed from the bathroom to
her bedroom.
"Olivia, you've got company!" James called.
"I know, Daddy. Give me a minute!"
She shut the door too fast to hear his reply. She threw on jeans and a t-shirt
and slicked her wet hair back in a braid. A touch of mascara, a little
lipgloss, the envelope in her back pocket, and she was on her way to the
kitchen.
"Those home runs were sweet, but I think the better team still won," she heard
Juice say.
"The better paid team," her dad scoffed.
Oh God. They were talking '96 World Series; she could tell by her dad's tone.
The home runs had to be Andruw Jones' back-to-back in his first two at-bats in
game one. He talked about those home runs constantly, and she had to admit it'd
been pretty cool. She wasn't as much a fan as her dad, but she had a soft spot
for Andruw Jones and his dimples.
"You guys playin' nice?" Olivia said as she came around the corner.
"Of course we are, sweetheart," James said. "Juice and I were having a very
civil debate about—"
"The ninety-six World Series. Yeah, I figured."
"Hey, Liv," Juice said. His grin was contagious, and she found herself
returning it without even thinking. "My mom said Jax got my sweatshirt by
mistake?"
"Ahh…yeah, that wasn't quite true. I just didn't want to worry her."
"You lied to Ms. Ortiz?" James said with a frown.
She tugged the envelope out of her pocket. "You'll understand why in a sec."
Dropping into one of the empty chairs, she slid the packet across the table.
"Open it," she said to Juice.
His brow creased in confusion, but he did as she said. "Holy shit," he breathed
after a moment. He looked up with a grimace. "Sorry, Mr. Gable."
He had been looking over Juice's shoulder, and now he waved the apology away.
"I gotta second your holy shit and raise you a what the fuck? Ollie, what are
these?"
"I don't know, Daddy. I mean—obviously they're pictures of Juice and me—but I
don't know who took them. They go back over a month."
"Kind of remind me of that picture of you and Mr. C," Juice said. "The one that
was on the flyer."
"That's what I was thinking," Olivia said. "We don't have actual proof that TJ
was behind the flyer, but I don't think there's much doubt in anyone's mind.
So…does he have someone following me around? Because up until last week he had
lacrosse practice after school. I doubt he has time to take pictures of me
every five minutes."
James cleared his throat. "Ollie, honey, we need to take these to the police.
I'm not sure what the sender is trying to say by mailing these to you, but I
doubt it's anything good."
"What're the cops gonna do, Dad? He hasn't threatened me."
"He attacked you at school, Liv, and the night—" Juice cut himself off, but it
was too late.
"The night you broke up with him," James finished. "When you kneed him in the
balls. Right, Olivia?"
"That's right," she said.
"Exactly how violent did he get? And what form did that violence take?" His
tone was careful and measured, his voice tight.
Juice cast her a sheepish glance as she struggled with it. She flicked her
brows at him and met her father's concerned blue gaze. "He got grabby. Shoved
his hand up my skirt and bit my lip. I scratched his face, and he sort of tried
to slap me, and then when he dove at me again he landed on my knee, crotch-
first. I jumped out of the car and he drove away. A while later I was walking
down the side of the road when Juice happened by. He recognized me and stopped
to give me a ride home."
There was a long, loaded silence.
"You're telling me TJ Flanary tried to rape you."
She swallowed hard and glanced away. "Basically, yeah."
"Um," Juice said. "I should probably—" He started to push himself up from the
table, but Olivia touched his arm.
"Don't," she said. "Please."
James' eyes darted between his daughter and her not-a-boyfriend-just-a-friend.
"Maybe just give us a minute, Juice," he said.
"You can hang out in my room," she said. "It's the last door on the right."
"Sure." He brushed his fingers against the back of her hand and offered a quick
smile.
As soon as he heard her bedroom door shut, James turned to Olivia with a stern
expression. "You should have told me about this."
"Why?" she said, wearily. "So you could freak out just like you're doing now?
Believe me, if it had gone any further than him just grabbing my butt, I would
have. I'd've gone to the cops, too. But, Dad, what could they've done with
this? It would've been my word against TJ's, and we all know who has more pull
in this town."
He rubbed his forehead, and when he spoke again his voice was thick. "I just
hate that you had to deal with something like that alone."
She reached for his hand and squeezed it. "I didn't, Daddy," she said. "I had
Juice."
"I'm your father, Olivia. I'm supposed to be the one who—"
"You can't protect me from everything. I'm fine. I promise. And if TJ ever lays
a finger on me again, you'll be the first to know. Okay?"
Clearly he didn't like it, but after a moment he let out a hard sigh and
nodded. "All right," he said. "I'm concerned about these pictures, Ollie. You
can't just blow it off like it's nothing."
"I could mention it to someone in the club," she said. "They could keep an eye
out around TM. I'm sure they would be less than thrilled to know someone's
taking pictures of their employees."
"That's an idea. What would they do if they found him?"
She spread her hands in a shrug. "Break his camera at the least. His face if he
acts like a dip…er, a jerk. Either way he wouldn't be a problem anymore."
"Unless it's TJ himself."
"Doubtful. Like I said, up until last week he had practice after school. And
this group;" she tapped the ones of them in her car; "was taken during school.
That last day that I skipped a while back."
"Ah, the infamous fight." He squinted. "Looks like a real humdinger."
"Uh huh," she said and gathered them up.
"Didn't realize you two spent so much time together."
"We don't, really. Obviously we work together, and we have the same group of
friends, but it's not like we're together all the time or anything. They just
really picked and chose their moments."
He frowned down at the photo in his hand. It was perfectly innocent: the two of
them leaning against the side of his old blue pickup. They were laughing about
something, not even touching, but it was her face that especially caught his
attention. "You look really happy, honey," he said after a long, thoughtful
moment.
He couldn't recall her looking quite that purely, completely, freely happy
since before the accident.
She paused. Went still and quiet. She took the picture from him and her mouth
quirked. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I guess I was."
There was a short silence as he watched her across the table. Finally she
cleared her throat and sat up straighter. "I should go get Juice. I think
scented candles are like teenage boy kryptonite or something."
"I'm sure the Christina Aguilera in your music collection isn't helping
either."
"Shh! You promised you wouldn't tell anybody."
"Sorry, pumpkin. I don't think he heard me." He smiled and kissed her hand.
"Invite him to stay for dinner if you want."
"Sure, Dad," she said as she wandered toward the hall. "Nothing like a little
chili to go with your stalking."
"Not funny, Olivia!" he called after her.
She ignored him and pushed open her bedroom door. Juice was in the desk chair,
and he looked extremely nervous. Out of place and maybe as awkward as she'd
ever seen him. His hands were clasped in his lap, and when he saw her his face
relaxed into a quick smile and he jumped to his feet.
"Hey," he said. "Everything okay?"
She eased the door partway shut and stepped closer. He met her halfway and
their arms went around each other. He ran a hand over her damp braid and she
clutched the back of his t-shirt.
"I'm so sorry," she murmured into his chest. "I'm so sorry, Juicy."
"Babe, no—for what? You didn't do anything. This is TJ. You've got nothin' to
apologize for."
She pulled away and shook her head. "I didn't show my dad all of them."
A quick search in the drawer and she grabbed the handful she'd left behind.
Some showed them kissing—in the park the night of Opie's birthday, on her
porch, in the school parking lot when they thought they'd been alone—but a few
of them were obviously from Thursday. The two of them holding hands as they
walked from the building to her dad's truck.
"Whoever took these has been taking them for a while, but TJ didn't feel the
need to send them to me until after we went public," she said.
His voice was low and intense when he spoke again. "I'm gonna kill that shit,
Olivia. I'm gonna—"
"You're not going to do anything. I'm going to tell the club that someone's
taking pictures of us at TM. They'll take care of it."
"You gotta let me do something, Liv. I can't just stand by while some asshole—"
He broke off and the muscles in his jaw danced as he clenched his teeth. "It's
my job to protect you."
"Funny," she said with a tired smile, "that's what my dad said, too."
He scowled. "I guess—I mean, I guess that's true, but I'm your—you're my—" He
broke off, his glower deepening, and she reached up to touch his cheek.
"Just say it, Ortiz."
"You're my girlfriend, Olivia. I know you're gonna say you're not, but you are.
That's how I feel about you, and I think that's how you feel about me. What do
the words matter anyway?"
"I wasn't gonna say that, Juicy."
He stared at her, wide-eyed. "You weren't?"
"Nope. This weekend—" She broke off and bit her lip thoughtfully. "I don't
know. This weekend was really sort of…special. That sounds lame, but…I don't
know how else to say it. It meant a lot to me."
He ducked his head to hide a grin. "Yeah," he said to his boots, "it meant a
lot to me too."
"Good," she said. "So does that mean I can be your girlfriend?"
"Duh, Liv, I just said—"
"Yeah, and maybe I wanna hear it again," she said with half a smile.
"Oh." He took her hand and let out a gusty sigh. "Olivia Gable, would you be my
girlfriend and maybe if you feel like it go to prom with me next month?"
"Prom?"
"If you feel like it. I mean, you skipped winter formal, right?"
She laughed. "Yeah, Juicy. I'll be your girlfriend, and I'll
definitely…think about prom."
He sniffed and wiped his eyes. "You just made me the happiest guy in the
world."
"Oh shut up, Ortiz."
A grin lit up his face. "Make me, Gable."
"Baby, I would, but my dad's just down the hall." Her head tilted. "I'm sure I
can think of something, though," she said as her mouth closed over his. She
pulled away, giggling a little. "Ugh. God, we're such dorks."
"Hey, speak for yourself!"
"No way. I was never this much of a dork until I met you."
He made a face. "Thanks, Liv."
Her mouth curved. "You're welcome, sugar."
Capturing her face in his hands, he kissed her soft and slow. She let out a
quiet sigh and trailed her mouth along his jaw. Down the side of his neck.
"Liv," he whispered, "the door…your dad…"
"Olivia!" James called, as if summoned by Juice's words.
Juice jumped away from her like he'd been burned and scrubbed the back of his
hand across his mouth. She made a quick check of her lipgloss, freshened it,
and strolled out to the hall.
"What's up, Daddy?"
"How long does it take to invite someone to dinner? It's ready."
"Come on," she said to Juice. "It's chili. If you wanna stay."
"Sounds great. I love chili." He squeezed her palm as he went past her, and she
smiled at him.
Chili. Spaghetti. Tacos. What didn't he love? She rolled her eyes and followed
him down the hall.
Once in the kitchen, James handed her a stack of bowls and some spoons. "You
staying, Juice?" he said.
"Yes, sir. Thanks for inviting me."
"No problem," he said. He paused and his eyes narrowed a little. "Might be a
good idea to wipe my daughter's lipstick off your neck first, though."
Juice turned so red he was almost purple, and he rubbed at his neck with the
desperation of a man swatting a deadly spider.
James cast Olivia an amused glance. "Still not your boyfriend, pumpkin?"
She hitched a shoulder. "I don't know, Dad," she said. "I might keep this one a
minute before I throw him back."
===============================================================================
The next day after school Olivia waved Jax down as he headed for his bike. He
paused, helmet in hand, and waited for her to fall in beside him.
"You headed to TM?" she said.
"Nah. Ope's on today. I was gonna head to Tara's."
"Great. Me too. Can I bum a ride?"
"Where's the great blue beast?"
"My dad doesn't really want me driving anywhere on my own these days." She ran
a hand through her hair and strapped on the helmet he handed her. "I'll explain
when we get to Tara's, if that's okay."
He gave her a curious look, but after a moment he hitched a shoulder. "Yeah,
sure," he said. "Hop on."
She mounted up behind him and rested her hands on his waist. She liked that Jax
was a man of few words sometimes. It made life easier. She slid her sunglasses
on and looked around. The parking lot was nearly empty. Jax had had detention,
and she'd stayed late in the shop—an excuse to wait for him, really. School had
been out for hours.
Was someone watching her now? Snapping pictures? Would Juice get a packet of
photos with her on Jax' bike? Or maybe Tara would.
Olivia shivered and Jax cast a look over his shoulder. "You cold?" he said.
"No. Let's just get outta here."
"Readin' my mind, Gable."
Olivia felt a thrill in her belly as he gunned the bike and it took off beneath
them. Motorcycles weren't exactly comfortable since the accident, but she loved
them all the same. The wind in her hair. The sun on her skin. The roar of the
engine and the smell of the road. She downplayed it because she knew her dad
would flip if he knew how she really felt, but part of her thought maybe she
was destined to be an old lady after all.
Except she wanted out of Charming, and she couldn't imagine spending time with
any MC other than SAMCRO.
The ride was brief, and he never got up much speed because it was all
neighborhood roads. All too soon they pulled up in front of Tara's house and he
cut the engine. She hopped off and handed him back the helmet.
Maybe Juice would be up for a ride out to the pines sometime this week.
When Tara opened the door, her greeting died on her lips and she glanced back
and forth between them with a puzzled expression. "You guys aren't here to tell
me you've been carrying on an illicit affair behind my back and now you're
running away together, are you?"
Olivia and Jax shared identical looks of horror at the idea.
"No, babe," he said. "Ollie's got somethin' on her mind, I guess, but it ain't
that."
"Ohh," Tara said as she gestured for them to come in. "So I guess it's time for
Ollie and me to tell you about our illicit affair," she said with a grin.
"It's cruel to keep him in the dark, Tara," Olivia said.
Jax didn't react quite like they thought he would. No joke. No wolf whistle.
Instead he looked decidedly uneasy. Olivia and Tara exchanged glances.
"Jax, we're totally kidding," Olivia said.
"I know," he said, scowling.
"Okay then…?"
He gave a restless shrug. "Look, Ollie, I know you're into girls, and that's
fine. I got no problem with it. I just…I didn't know you were into my girl."
Tara looked at Olivia and she stared back. They couldn't decide if they should
be amused or offended, though for different reasons.
"I'm not into your girl, Jax," Olivia said at last.
"And even if she were," Tara said, "it wouldn't matter because I'm with you."
"And I'm with Juice, so…I'm a little confused about the problem here."
He made a frustrated gesture. "Why didn't you guys tell me you made out?"
"Because it wasn't a big deal," Tara said.
"It was a lark," said Olivia. "We were drunk and bored. You guys were broken
up."
He scraped a hand down his face. He knew he was being ridiculous, but he hadn't
stopped thinking about it since Friday. Good thoughts, some. But he had this
weird niggle of doubt that just wouldn't go away.
"Who kissed who?" he demanded.
The girls looked at each other again. Finally Tara said, "I asked her to kiss
me. I wanted to know what all the fuss was about."
"Jax…Tara's straight, okay? And she's in love with you. And I have a
boyfriend."
"Oh he's your boyfriend now?" Tara said with a grin. "Since when?"
"Since last night, smug face."
Her eyes widened. "Last night? Did you—?" She cut herself off and darted a
glance at Jax.
"No." She paused. "Jealous fit over, Jackson? Can we move on?"
He frowned. "Yeah," he said, a little grudgingly. Really, really ridiculous.
Ollie was his friend. Tara was his girl. He was acting like a dumbass. "Sorry,
Ollie."
"Might be smarter to apologize to your girl," Olivia said.
"I didn't mean anything by it," he said to Tara.
"Sure you didn't. You just accused Ollie of trying to steal your girlfriend and
me of letting her. No problem, though."
He cast Olivia a desperate glance, but she held up her hands. "Sorry, kid. You
made this mess. You gotta clean it up."
"Didn't you have something you wanted to talk about?" he said.
She shook her head and reached into her jacket. "Friday I got a little surprise
in the mail."
"Babies don't come in the mail, Ollie. Look further south," Tara said.
"Bitch," Olivia replied without heat.
"What the fuck am I lookin' at?" Jax said as he flipped through the photos.
"That's kinda obvious, honey," Tara said. "The question is why?"
"Don't know," Olivia said. "I guess the same reason that motivated him to have
someone take pictures of Ben and me."
"These are at TM," Jax said.
"Yup. That's why I'm bringing them to your attention. I can't imagine Clay
would be thrilled with someone taking photos of his business."
Jax grunted. "Watchin' the club come and go. This is fucked up."
"Pretty sure the club's not the target," said Tara.
"They will be when Jax tells Clay about it."
He looked up at her with a frown. She shrugged. "I don't really want SAMCRO
knowing my business, Jax. I just want this asshole to stop. I'd rather Clay
think someone's taking pictures of the club rather than me. Does that work for
you?"
He cleared his throat and handed her back the photos that hadn't been snapped
at the garage. "Yeah, Ollie, I got you. You think TJ took 'em?"
"No," Tara said. "He had lacrosse practice after school up until the
suspension. Probably hired somebody."
"He jealous of Juice?"
"I guess," Olivia said. "Boy can't stand to lose."
"We told you he was an asshole," Jax said.
Tara nudged him. "Not really the time, Jackson."
Olivia waved a hand. "Doesn't matter. You were right. Kinda wish I'd
known how right, but…"
"You're a stubborn bitch," Tara said.
"Pretty much."
"You work tomorrow?" Jax said.
"Yup. Till close."
"Great. I'll show these to Clay tonight, and the club can be on the lookout
tomorrow. Thanks for bringin' me this."
"My dad had a fit. I think he mighta pulled me out for home school or some shit
if I hadn't given him something."
"You tell him what happened the night you broke up with TJ?" Tara said.
"Yep."
"The full version, or the bullshit you've fed me?"
She swallowed and looked away. "The full version."
"What full version?" Jax said.
"Don't know, babe," Tara said to him. "She won't tell me."
"It's not—" Olivia rubbed her forehead and let out a sigh. "TJ stuck his hand
up my skirt and I scratched his face. He lunged at me and I kneed him in the
balls. That's it. That's the story."
"Up your skirt?" Tara cried. "Olivia, that's—"
"I know what it is, Tara. Believe me. But, look, it's…nothing happened."
"Until he grabbed you by the neck and threw you into a locker," Jax said.
"Juice shoulda hit that motherfucker a lot harder."
"I appreciate everyone being so quick to defend me, but I'm fine. Just get the
photographer off my ass, Jax, and I'll be happy. Okay?"
He glanced at Tara. She flicked her brows. He glowered. She tilted her head in
a shrug.
Finally, "Yeah, Ollie. Like I said, I'll show 'em to Clay."
"Great. That's all I ask." Her mouth moved in a sort-of smile. "I hate to ask
this, but can I get a ride home? My dad won't be happy until I deliver the
shutterbug's head on a platter."
"You're not even my girlfriend and you're the most high maintenance woman on
the goddamn planet," Jax said.
"Come on, Ollie," Tara said with a brief glare in his direction. "We'll take
the Cutlass." She wove her arm through Olivia's. "I need to hear all about last
night anyway."
"What'm I supposed to do while you're gone?" said Jax.
She shot a grin over her shoulder. "Wait, baby. You're gonna have to wait."
Chapter End Notes
     Jax'll get over it. I've no intention of making him into a jealous
     pissbaby.
***** Breathless *****
Chapter Summary
     Juice's mom has some bad news; Chibs and Olivia have a weird
     encounter in the garage.
                         i thought you' d want to know
                   that when you feel the world is crashing
                             all around your feet
                      come running headlong into my arms
                                  breathless
                            i will never judge you
                              i can only love you
                           come now running headlong
                                 into my arms
                                  breathless
                        Better Than Ezra, "Breathless"
It was quiet at school the next day. She and Juice managed to sneak a little
time in the break room during free period, but since the pictures surfaced she
was more reluctant than ever to have any public displays of affection between
them. He understood, and he didn't try to pressure her about it. If he were
being completely honest, the whole thing kinda freaked him out too.
He liked Olivia—really liked her—and he was incredibly happy she'd finally
decided to actually for real be his girlfriend…but…and fuck he hated himself
for the but, but he couldn't shake it. He wanted her more than he'd ever wanted
a girl before, and not just in a sex way. And he'd known from really early on
(thanks to Jax and Opie's warning) that wanting her came with some issues
attached.
But this TJ thing. It wasn't like it made him want her less. It wasn't that. It
just made him…frustrated. With her, a little, because she wouldn't confront TJ
and she wouldn't let Juice kick his worthless ass, but mostly of course with TJ
himself. How dare that little prick do any of this shit? Treat Olivia like that
and touch her like that and spread those stupid fucking rumors, then stalk her
(apparently) and make her private life public…
He didn't quite know how to deal with all of it. He didn't know how to help
her. And that was really what he wanted. He wanted her to know how much he
wanted her (without being gross about it), and that he was there whatever she
needed. It was weird, because he'd never felt quite like that about a girl
before. He hadn't ever really had any girl friends before. Friends who were
girls, that is. And now he was friends with three of them, and one of them was
his girlfriend, and he was a little out of his depth.
They had a date Thursday. Like, an actual date. They hadn't done that before.
He thought maybe she thought it wasn't a big deal, but he wanted to make it
one. Before, when she'd said she didn't want to be his girlfriend or have
anything other than friends with benefits, he'd imagined what it would be like
if they went on a date, and it was always disastrous. Mostly because it was
easier to imagine a really awful date than a really good one.
Now that she'd actually said yes he really wanted to make it nice. He didn't
have a lot of money, and he had a feeling she didn't need a bunch of expensive
bullshit (she mentioned, sometimes, how TJ used to give her presents all the
time and it sorta freaked her out), so he figured it had to be
more personal special. Like something just for her.
But he had no idea what. Maybe she'd like…what? Fuck. Why was this so hard? He
knew her pretty well, and he knew she wasn't one of those girls who wanted,
like, roses and shit. She didn't even like roses. She'd probably laugh at him
if he brought her flowers, even tulips, her favorite. She didn't seem like the
type of girl who wanted flowers.
He still had two days to think about it. It was only Tuesday, and they weren't
going out until Thursday. In the meantime he'd take whatever time they could
carve out away from prying eyes and be happy about it.
Olivia had a shift at TM that afternoon, but he was off, so he headed home
after school. His mom's car was in the parking lot. He frowned. She should be
at work now. She'd gone back week before last and so far things had been good.
She'd been feeling okay. But she started chemo next week and he was worried
about it. The doctor had explained the side effects and he wondered how she'd
be able to work with all that going on.
And her hair. She was really gonna hate losing her hair.
He parked his bike and hurried upstairs. Let himself in and started calling for
her immediately.
"Mom? You around? How come you're home so early?"
"Back here, mijo. Just a minute. I'll come to you."
Her voice came from her room. His mom was one of the hardest working people on
earth, and if she were in her bedroom at four o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon
then she was either cleaning it, or she really did feel like shit and couldn't
get out of bed. It was easy to figure out which.
"Nah, it's good," he said. "Gimme a sec and I'll come to you."
There was silence. Then, "Sí, Juan Carlos."
Shit. Not cleaning, then. He grabbed a granola bar and poured a glass of milk
before he headed that way. "Mom?" he said, knocking on the door.
"Come in," she said after a moment.
She didn't look sick, he thought when he saw her, so much as…upset. Maybe she'd
even been crying, which seemed impossible. He frowned. Shifted his weight.
"Come here, mijo," she said. "Sit down."
He perched gingerly on the edge of her bed and set his milk on the nightstand.
Ripped the granola bar open and took a bite. He knew she'd bug him about it if
he waited to eat, so better to just get on with it and let her tell him
whatever was on her mind.
"How was school today?"
He raised a brow. "Fine, Mom. You know. School. How are you?"
She waved it away. "And how are things with Olivia? We should have her over for
dinner sometime. You've eaten at her house several times now. It's our turn.
Plus I'd like to talk to her some. Her father gushes about her, of course, but
that's his job."
"What're you sayin'?"
She shrugged and smiled. "I need to make sure she's good enough for you, mijo."
He almost choked on his granola. He took a swig of milk and stared into the
glass as he thought about it. "She's great, Mom. I think whatever nice things
her dad said are probably true."
"Hhhmm," Ana said. "Well. He did say she was pretty, and that's true."
Juice blushed. "Yeah, she is. I mean, duh of course she is. But she's…she's
smart, you know? And funny, and like a really good artist. She's just…cool, I
guess." He couldn't stop himself from smiling when he thought about her, and he
knew he probably sounded (and looked) like a complete idiot.
He glanced up and shrugged a little. "What?" he said. "What's that face?"
"Nothing," she said with a smile. "I've just never heard you talk about a girl
like this before."
"She's…kinda special," he admitted, blushing harder.
"I can tell, Juan Carlos." She pushed herself up a little higher in the bed,
and Juice set his food aside to help her. He got the pillows fixed so that she
was propped up, and then settled next to her again.
"So what's up?" he said. "How come you're here in the middle of the afternoon?
Are you feeling okay?"
"I feel fine, mijo. There is something I need to talk to you about, though."
She reached out and clasped his hand. Hers was tiny, but strong, and she held
on hard. His grip was lighter; he didn't want to hurt her; and he felt a pinch
of fear as he watched her.
She drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. Her dark eyes, so much like
his, searched his face. Finally she said, "I lost my job today, Juan Carlos."
He sat up fast. "What? Why? What happened?"
"Apparently my time away from work has caused a problem. They've been very
generous about it, but I've only worked there a few months. Now with everything
going on…well. It's understandable, I suppose."
"Understandable? Mom, you work your butt off at that place! Yeah, you've been
sick, but come on. You can't fire somebody for being sick!"
"You can fire someone for missing work."
She was so accepting. Why wasn't she mad? He was pissed as hell. "Mom—"
"I don't want you to worry about it. Everything is going to work out fine. I
can get COBRA to cover the health insurance until I find something new, and
with the money you make at the garage and what I've saved up, we'll be okay."
His mouth fell open and he ran his free hand over his head. Was this because of
him? Because he'd punched TJ Flanary? Olivia had warned him something like this
could happen, but he hadn't completely believed her.
Maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was just shit timing.
"I can pick up some more hours at the garage," he mumbled.
"No. You need to concentrate on school. Between Olivia and your job you hardly
have time for homework. I don't want your grades slipping."
"Mom, come on."
"Don't Mom me. I'm serious. This suspension is already going to hurt your GPA,
so you need to work extra hard." She softened and touched his face. "I love
you, Juan Carlos. We're going to be fine. I promise you that."
But she couldn't really make promises like that, could she?
"Yeah, Mom. I know. I love you too."
"Try not to worry," she said. "I'm sure I'll find something soon."
"Of course you will," he said, trying to smile. He cleared his throat and
changed the subject. "Is Ms. Gardner down the hall still going with you next
week?"
"Yes. She's being very generous. Don't worry about that either, mijo. You have
to be at school. It's important."
"I know. I just wish I could go with you the first time."
"It's just sitting there. Nothing exciting. I'll be fine. Mrs. Gardner is going
to teach me to knit!"
Juice smiled a little. "That sounds cool."
"I'll make you a scarf," she said.
"For California?"
She lifted her hands in a shrug. "It could get cold."
"You make me a scarf I'll wear it even if it's not."
"Such a good boy." She squeezed his hand. "Go do your homework, Juan Carlos.
I'll start dinner in a bit."
"Don't worry about it. I can have a sandwich or something."
"Don't treat me like an invalid," she said with a scowl. "I can still cook
dinner!"
"Mom, I wasn't—" He ducked his head. "I'm sorry," he said. "You're right. You
cook like a champ."
"Damn straight," she said.
He pushed himself to his feet and leaned down to drop a kiss on her cheek.
"Take your time. I'm not super hungry." Grabbing his empty glass and the
granola bar wrapper, he headed for the kitchen. He washed the glass out and set
it in the sink, then stood gripping the counter for a long time.
Who would fire someone with cancer? What a fucking asshole. Who
would hire somebody with cancer?
Maybe he could ask Olivia. She knew the town way better than he did, and she
might have some ideas of where his mom could apply. But she'd flip her lid when
she thought TJ might've gotten her fired…but he knew he'd have to tell her
eventually. It was too big, and she'd be mad if he kept it from her.
Not mad, exactly, but kinda have her feelings hurt. Because he hadn't told her
about his mom's cancer, and after that he'd told her he'd come to her with
stuff. And she was a really private person and would understand that he wanted
to keep things to himself, but this sort of involved her too. If TJ was the
reason his mom was fired.
And besides that he wanted to tell her. He wanted to hear her take on it. He
wanted…to talk to her. About anything. He loved the sound of her voice and the
way she put things and how she made really complicated shit seem kinda…simple.
He frowned. Wow. He was really in deep.
When the fuck had that happened?
===============================================================================
All seemed normal at TM that afternoon. Olivia had wondered if someone might
want to talk to her, but no one paid her any more attention than usual. Jax had
told her he'd given Clay the photos last night, but maybe Clay had decided not
to do anything about it. She doubted that. She thought they were probably just
downplaying it.
It was fairly busy, but Ope was on, and the two of them worked well together.
Chibs was the third, and it was his turn to pick the radio station. He always
chose shit he knew Olivia hated just to piss her off, but today she ignored
him. She was in a strangely good mood, despite the bullshit with the pictures,
and she wasn't letting Chibs' awful taste in music bring her down.
They were slow for the last hour, so Opie and Olivia drew straws and he got to
cut out early. She and Chibs were left to close up, and when she tried to tell
Chibs she could handle it on her own, he refused. She shrugged and went back to
organizing her tool chest.
Some truly awful song came on the radio, and she leaned around the chest to
glare at him. He grinned at her and cranked it up. She flipped him off and he
burst out laughing.
"Very ladylike, Ollie girl," he shouted over the music.
She rolled her eyes, stomped across the garage, and spun the dial the other
way. "Are you thirty or three? Jesus, Chibs."
"Ach, lass, was just havin' a bit of fun."
She frowned. "Yeah…I know. I just…not really in the mood."
His mouth twisted in something that wasn't quite a smile. "Somethin' on your
mind?" he said, lifting a brow.
She looked up at him—a long way up—and studied his face a moment. "Why would
something be on my mind?"
I actually feel better than I have in days, she wanted to say. But she didn't,
and she wasn't quite sure why. Because it was true, wasn't it? TJ was still
suspended. Things were great between her and Juice. Her dad was more or less
cool, and he liked Juice. Jax had gotten over his weird bout of jealousy.
So, yeah. She felt better than she had in days.
"I'm fine," she said. "Getting a headache, I think. Sorry I was a jerk."
He hitched a shoulder and lit a cigarette. Offered it to her and grinned at the
look on her face. "Not a smoker, lass?"
"You offerin' tobacco products to minors now? Smart."
He chuckled. "I've committed worse sins."
"Yeah," she said, "I bet you have."
She meant it jokingly, no big deal, but it came out somewhat…different. Their
eyes met, and his were dark and intense. Heat rose on her cheeks. And not
entirely due to embarrassment.
"Um." She cleared her throat. "I—I didn't really mean—"
He waved it away with the hand holding the cigarette. "I know what you meant,
darlin'." He paused and took a drag. Then, "Saw some interestin' pictures
today."
"Ahh." She turned away, back to the tool chest, but he followed her and draped
an arm over it. "What?" she said.
"What? Thought we were havin' a conversation, then you just walk away. So I
thought, no way someone as polite as Ollie leaves mid-conversation. She must
mean for me to follow her. So here I am. Followin' you."
"You're such a pain in the ass."
"Aye. But like recognizes like, or so they say." He tossed the butt away and
ground it out. She eyed him until, with a sheepish smile, he picked it up and
set it on the counter so he could get rid of it later. "Case in point," he
muttered.
"Right. I don't like nasty ass cigarette butts all over the garage floor, but
I'm being the pain in the ass. One day I'm gonna walk around and stick gum
under every workbench in here and see how you feel about it."
He grinned and wagged his brows. "Condoms might be better. More effective."
"Ew! Chibs, please. You wanna strew condoms around, be my guest. But I quit."
"No need for that. I'll keep 'em to myself."
"Good plan." She said it in a sort of final way, clearly ending the
conversation, and went back to what she'd been doing before his musical
shenanigans. She thought he would, too, but instead he leaned against the
workbench and crossed his arms over his chest, his long legs at the ankle, and
watched her.
She tried to ignore him, but Chibs had always been pretty impossible to ignore.
Finally, with a frustrated breath, she dropped a wrench into the drawer and
glared at him. "What, Chibs? What do you want?"
He gave a slow, lazy shrug. "Nothin', lass. I just like lookin' at you."
Her brow furrowed even as she blushed, hot and bright. "That's not really—"
"Aye, I know it. You're naught but a kid, and you're with Juicy boy. Didn't say
I was gonna do anything about it. I just like lookin' at you."
"I don't really like being looked at." She glanced back toward the closed bay
doors. "Or watched."
"Shouldn't be a problem too much longer. The bein' watched part, I mean. Tig
and Clay were gonna take care of that problem tonight."
"If he's even here."
"I imagine he is. He put a lot of effort into those first shots. And I imagine
you didn't give us all of 'em, did you?"
"Someone's taking pictures of TM, Chibs. Why would there be more than that?"
"TM, aye. When you're here. And sendin' 'em to you. So…" He trailed off and
lifted a hand.
She toyed with the end of her braid and straightened the wrench she'd thrown
down. Finally she met his gaze. "If Tig and Clay are taking care of it, then
it's no big deal."
"True," he said, nodding. "Nothin' for you to worry about. I'm sure lovely
lasses like you get your picture taken all the time."
"That's gross, Filip."
"What?" He gave a big-eyed, innocent blink. "You said it's no big deal. I was
just agreein' with you."
"You think you're so fucking clever." She stepped closer and angled her chin up
toward him. "Someone's taking pictures of me. It's creepy. But I'm sure once
Clay and Tig get through with him it'll be done. I won't have anything to worry
about. Wouldn't you agree?"
He made a low noise of disapproval. "You aren't curious at all who's doin' it?"
"I know who's doing it." She flicked her fingers. "Not the actual person, but
the person who hired the person."
"Then why don't we go after that cocksucker," he growled.
Her mouth twitched at the corners. "I don't need you guys to fight my battles
for me. I gave Jax those pictures because I thought Clay and Gemma would want
to know someone was taking photographs of their place of business. What Clay
chose to do with that information is out of my hands."
"No one buys your innocent act, Ollie."
"Yeah, well, no one buys your creeper act, Chibs. Gimme a break."
He lifted a brow and leaned a little closer. "What? You think I don't like
lookin' at you?"
"Well I'm not disfigured, but come on."
"Hhmm," he said. His eyes roved her, from the tips of her heavy black boots to
the top of her head. His heavy gaze lingered on her mouth. The bright twist of
her braid. Not, she noticed, her chest, which was something different.
"Chibs," she said with a strained sort of half-laugh. "Seriously."
He didn't blink. Didn't step back or look away.
She bit her lip, and his mouth quirked in a sardonic sort of grin. She
remembered what Juice had said about when she did that, and with a brief frown
she stopped. She was flustered, out of sorts, and she wondered what the hell he
was up to.
Suddenly her jaw fell open and she pressed a finger to the center of his chest.
"Someone told you."
"Told me? Told me what?" He glanced down at her hand in consternation, then
back at her face.
"About Ben. So you think oh, sure, she fucked her twenty-six-year-old teacher,
so she just must be fair game. She'll fuck anything with a penis! Just give her
a couple of smoldering glances across the garage and those panties'll drop like
they're on fire!"
His expression was an odd mix of amusement, surprise, and confusion. He grabbed
her wrist, lightly, and pulled it away. "I honestly have no idea what you're
talkin' about, lass." He paused. "You fucked your teacher?"
"My former teacher," she snapped.
"Ah."
"You really didn't know?"
"How would I know somethin' like that? I'm not plugged into the high school
gossip mill."
"Right. With Jax and Ope and Juice working here, I'm sure you don't hear a
fuckin' thing."
He shifted his weight and gave her an uneasy look from under his brows. "I
mighta heard a whisper," he admitted.
"About?" she said.
"Ach, well…a bit about the football team. And…aye, somethin' about a teacher."
"Oh Jesus."
"I didn't believe it, of course. But now…?"
"The football team thing isn't true. The teacher thing…not until after he was
fired."
His head tilted. "Aren't you just full of surprises, Ollie girl."
"Please don't get gross."
He moved his thumb in little circles against the pulse at the inside of her
wrist. She had a feeling he didn't even realize he was doing it, and for some
reason she didn't pull away. "Does lookin' at you count as gross?" he said,
thoughtfully.
"Depends on how you're looking."
"Just appreciating the lovely sights before me. That's all."
Her nose scrunched and she looked away. "I think it would be better if you
didn't," she said. She took her hand back. Her skin tingled where he'd been
touching it.
There was a small silence. Then, quietly, "Maybe when you're a bit older, aye?"
he said, and something in his voice made her shiver as her eyes widened just a
little.
"Sure, Chibs," she said, choosing to take it as a joke. She grinned and tossed
her braid over her shoulder. "Come find me when I'm twenty-five."
"So long? That's cruel, lassie."
"Good things come to those who wait, Chibby." Another quick flash of a smile
and she went back to work, more than ready to forget any of this had happened
at all.
"Aye," he said under his breath. "They certainly do."
===============================================================================
She didn't tell Juice about it. It had been a weird moment, but nothing had
happened, and she had a feeling Chibs had just been fucking with her. She
didn't want Juice to get upset over nothing. He already seemed sort of…down…at
school the next day. His smile was slower. Didn't really touch his eyes. He was
distracted and just not quite Juice.
She grabbed him during free period and hauled him into the break room. When he
started to kiss her she stopped him and led him to the couch instead. They sat
down together, and she smiled at him, her mouth soft and her eyes bright.
"You gonna tell me what's up or keep acting weird all day?"
He let out a sigh and slumped against the cushions. "I was hopin' I could wait
till after school," he said.
"You can if you want, but I'd rather you tell me now." She pulled a leg up and
turned to face him. "Whatever it is, I'm listening."
He looked down at his boots, and there was a deep line between his brows. "It's
my mom," he said at last.
Her heart skipped a beat and she reached for his hand. "Juice—"
"Not the cancer," he said, quickly. He squeezed her fingers and looked up. "She
lost her job."
Olivia went still. "Her job at the mill," she said.
"That's the one."
She swallowed. "Did they say why?"
"She said they told her it's because she was missing so much work. She hasn't
been there very long, so…?" He trailed off with a shrug.
"Fuck, Juicy," she said. "Fuck I'm so sorry."
"It's not your fault, Liv. You know that, right? This isn't because of you."
"It might be!"
"But it's not. I don't want you blaming yourself for it. It's just…really shit
luck. Now she's gotta find something else and she starts chemo next week so
she's gonna feel like crap." He bowed his head and was quiet for so long she
thought he might not speak again.
Then, voice thick, "I'm not real sure what we're gonna do."
"Oh, baby," she murmured. She rubbed his back and kneaded his shoulder. When it
started to shake beneath her palm she pulled him against her and carded her
fingers through his hair. Kissed his temple and held him tight.
"It was supposed to be different here. We had nothin' back in Queens. We were
on fuckin' welfare and food stamps and the whole fuckin' thing. She got this
great job out here and it was like finally we could breathe. Now this shit?"
"You said she did bookkeeping at the mill?" she said after a moment.
He nodded against her shirt, sniffling a little. "Yeah. Office management shit,
I guess."
She made a soft, thoughtful noise. "You should talk to Gemma. I think she's
been looking for some help around the garage. Office help, I mean."
He raised his head to look at her. "I can't do that."
"What? Why not? Your mom needs a job. Gemma needs an office manager."
"Gemma'd hire my mom out of, like. Charity. Because she does shit like that.
That's not right."
"Gemma doesn't believe in charity, love. She does believe in family helping
family, and basically anyone who works at TM is family. She'd actually be
really pissed if you didn't ask her."
"No. I can't. It'd be too weird. Too much like begging."
She opened her mouth to argue further, but he'd gotten that hard, stubborn look
on his face. She knew that look. He wasn't going to change his mind. She rolled
her eyes and dismissed it with a wave of her hand.
"Okay," she said. "If you feel that strongly about it, don't. I think I heard
something about the receptionist at the police station getting married. She's
not coming back, I guess."
"That might work," he said. "She could get government benefits."
Except her cancer was a pre-existing condition, Olivia thought. Which was
bullshit and so fucking unfair. Once her coverage from the mill lapsed it'd be
virtually impossible for her to get covered for it again.
Now wasn't the time to mention that, though. In fact she thought maybe a change
of subject was in order. She pushed him back against the cushions again and
slid up into his lap. Cupped his face in her hands and kissed away the tears on
his cheeks.
"It'll be okay, Juicy."
"How can you say that? You don't know that."
"Of course I do," she said with a grin. "Didn't I ever tell you I can see the
future?"
He smiled in spite of himself and let his hands drift to her waist. "Oh yeah?"
he said.
"Yep. Wanna hear a prediction?"
"Sure," he said. "Lay it on me."
She closed her eyes and scrunched her face up. "I predict…you're going to kiss
me!"
He laughed. "That's not exactly a hard one."
"Then do it, silly, and prove me right."
"Hhhmm." He tangled a hand in her hair and used the other one to tug her
closer. "You're real sweet sometimes, Liv. You know that?"
"Don't let that get around, Ortiz. It'll ruin my other reputation as a stone
cold bitch."
"I'd never," he said. He brushed his tongue over her bottom lip.
"Oh!" she said and straightened.
He made a face at her. "I thought I was supposed to kiss you."
"In a sec. I was wondering if tomorrow, when we go out…do you think maybe we
could go for a ride?"
"A ride?" he said. He blinked. "Like on my bike?"
"No, in a hot air balloon. Yeah, silly, your bike."
"I thought you didn't like—"
"I don't. I mean, I do. I just can't, really, because of my hip. But a short
ride wouldn't be bad, and it's supposed to be really pretty and I'd just…I
think it'd be fun."
"Yeah," he said, his mouth moving in one of those sweet smiles that made her
stomach clench every time. "It would be fun. Sure, babe. I'll take you for a
ride."
She giggled. "Will you, Juan Carlos?" she said, her voice going low and
breathy.
He cleared his throat and shifted a little. "Any time you want."
She ran her nose up the side of his neck. Pressed a soft kiss to the corner of
his jaw. "I'm gonna hold you to that," she whispered against his skin.
He shivered. "Good," he said.
"I think it's time for you to kiss me now."
"Finally."
"Jerk," she said with a laugh.
"Yeah, yeah. Tell it to someone who believes it." He captured her mouth before
she could say anything else, and their quiet moans mingled as their tongues
brushed.
"Thank you, Olivia," he said when the kiss finally broke.
"What for?"
He gave a sheepish sort of shrug. "Just…you. Bein' you. I really like you."
"I know you do, Ortiz," she said. "I'm sort of fond of you too."
"Sort of?"
"A little bit."
She let out a quiet shriek as he flipped her over onto her back. "You locked
the door, right?" he said.
"Yeah, of course. Juice—"
"Shhh," he said. He nudged her t-shirt up and kissed her tummy. "I think I need
a review of lesson one."
"Oh," she said on a breath. "Well far be it for me to come between a boy and
his education."
***** Everything *****
Chapter Summary
     Olivia has a chat with Gemma, then later she and Juice spend some
     quality time.
                              you calm the storms
                             and you give me rest 
                           you hold me in your hands
                             you won't let me fall
                              you steal my heart
                          and you take my breath away
                             would you take me in
                              take me deeper now
                            Lifehouse, "Everything"
The next afternoon when Olivia reported for her shift at TM she was relieved to
see she was on with Tig and Jax rather than Chibs. Tig nodded when he saw her,
his blue eyes earnest, and as she walked by he patted her shoulder, a
surprisingly innocent touch from Tig.
"Don't worry," he said under his breath. "It's all taken care of."
Her head fell back so that she could look up at him—he was nearly a foot
taller—and a small smile curved her mouth. "Thanks, Tiggy," she said. "He say
who hired him?"
He studied her a moment, his brow furrowed. "Nope," he finally said. "We'll
figure it out, though."
She nodded, he gave her one last squeeze, and they both went back to work. She
let a few hours pass, and she'd just finished up an oil change when they
finally hit a lull. She made sure Tig and Jax were good, then wandered toward
the office.
Gemma called for her to come in, and she stepped inside warily. Gemma was at
the desk, her glasses on her nose, and when she saw Olivia she took them off
and her mouth twisted in a brief smile.
"What's up, sweetheart?" she said.
They hadn't spoken much since their confrontation over TJ, even though that had
been ages ago. They were both stubborn, and neither liked to back down or
apologize. Olivia thought maybe it was time. She took a deep breath and closed
the door behind her.
"Gem, listen." She laced her fingers together and wandered toward the couch.
Gemma, realizing Olivia had something on her mind, crossed around the desk and
sat down next to her on the sofa.
"I'm listening."
"I just wanted to apologize for that thing about TJ Flanary. I was really rude
to you, and you were just trying to look out for me." She paused. Bit her lip.
"And you were right."
Gemma just lifted a brow and waited her out.
"He's an asshole, and I was stupid for not seeing it."
"No, baby. Not stupid. I'm just glad you got out before it was too late."
"Yeah," she said. "Me too." A brief hesitation. "If I did."
"You think he's the one behind the pictures?"
"I don't know. Probably. I don't get it, though. What's the big deal? We went
out. It didn't work. I broke up with him. Why would that translate into him
being obsessed with me?"
Gemma sighed and shook her head. "There are some boys who don't know how to
take no for an answer. It just won't get through their stupid thick skulls.
It's not anything you did." She paused and patted Olivia's hand. "It's gonna be
okay, baby. The boys are gonna track down whoever hired that photographer and
get him off your back."
"You don't think that might be dangerous? I mean, if it is TJ, his dad—"
"You let us worry about Teddy."
"Yeah," she said, brow furrowing, "okay, Gem."
There was a quiet moment while Olivia eyed the desk and the huge stack of
paperwork there. "Looks like you're busy."
Gemma rolled her eyes. "Juice got the computer going again, but in the meantime
all this shit piled up. We've been so busy the past couple months I'm not sure
I'll ever catch up at this point." She sighed. "I really gotta hire somebody,
but what a pain in the ass."
"I might actually have a solution for you."
"Oh?" Gemma said. "You a secretary now?"
"Right. That'll be the day. No, listen."
God Juice was gonna kill her for this. But he was being so fucking pigheaded
about it and his mom really needed a job and Gemma really needed the help. It
wasn't charity. It was a solution to two problems, and if Ms. Ortiz were
working at TM she wouldn't have to worry about getting fired for having cancer,
or because her kid punched somebody in the face.
"So, you know how Juice got suspended for punching TJ?" she said.
"Uh huh."
"Well TJ's suspension was two weeks to Juice's one, and TJ got kicked off
school sports and prom court and, like, everything. I haven't seen him, but I
know for a fact he gave a girl a black eye over it, and…I think he got Juice's
mom fired from the mill."
"Jesus Christ," Gemma muttered. "Are you shittin' me?"
"Nope," she said, even though she knew the question was rhetorical. "Okay, I
probably shouldn't be telling you this part, but…Ms. Ortiz has cancer. She was
diagnosed a little bit ago, and she starts chemo next week. They told her they
let her go because she'd been missing too much work, but seriously. It's really
suspicious timing."
Gemma eyed her for several long seconds. "Juice send you in here to ask me to
give his mom a job?"
Olivia's mouth fell open. "Holy shit, Gem, of course he didn't! He has no idea
I'm doing this. I told him he should talk to you, but he didn't want—he didn't
want any charity."
"Charity? He's family."
"That's what I told him. But, I mean…" She trailed off with a shrug.
"Stubborn."
"Yeah." She smiled a little, hopefully. "Anyway, she was a bookkeeper at the
mill, did office manager type stuff, so it's really exactly what you need
around here. I mean, she'll be in chemo, so I guess she'll be pretty sick,
but—"
Gemma waved that away. "I don't need full time help anyway. Just someone to
come in and get me out from behind this wall of paper, then help keep it under
control." She sighed. "You really care about that boy, don't you, sweetheart?"
Olivia frowned. Bit her lip again and looked away. "He's…I don't know.
He's…special. That sounds lame, but I don't know. There's part of me that
thinks it's just, like, rebound, I guess? From TJ. Not that I was all into TJ.
Not that kinda rebound. But just because Juice is basically the exact
opposite." Her nose scrunched. "Does that make sense?"
"Of course it does," Gemma said. "He's a sweet kid. Hard worker. Loyal. Just
the kind we need around here."
Olivia tried to keep her expression neutral. She personally thought Juice
should steer as clear of the MC as he possibly could, but she didn't want to
say that aloud. He was a sweet kid, and he didn't need to get involved with
whatever shady shit SAMCRO got up to.
Instead she cleared her throat and pushed herself to her feet. "Thanks, Gemma.
I really appreciate it. And if maybe you wouldn't mention this conversation to
Juice…?"
She stood and crossed her arms over her chest. "You don't think he's gonna
figure it out when I call up his mom for a little chat about employment
opportunities?"
She hitched a shoulder. "Just say you need an office manager and you heard
that's what she does. You don't like hiring strangers, and since you think so
well of Juice you thought you'd check in and see if she was in the market for a
job. Don't even tell her you know about the mill thing."
"You sneaky little bitch," Gemma said.
"Yeah, well. Sometimes boys are dumb."
"Sometimes?" She snorted. "You're young, Ollie. You'll learn."
===============================================================================
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, and after her shift she hurried home
to shower and change. She didn't dress up: just jeans and a long sleeve t-
shirt; and she was brushing out her hair when she heard Juice's bike. She went
to the door and leaned against the frame. Waited as he stripped off his helmet
and hurried up to the porch.
He paused a few steps away and tucked his hands in his pockets. His mouth moved
in one of those smiles, the kind that lit up his face and creased his eyes at
the corners, and her heart flipped over about ten times and she pressed a hand
to her face as she laughed.
"What?" he said.
"Nothing. I just—" She laughed again, like an idiot, and he looked more
confused than ever. "Come here and kiss me, Ortiz."
"Okay," he said, more than happy to comply. They met halfway, and he pulled her
closer by the waist. One hand came up to rest against her cheek, his fingers
tracing the line of her jaw, and for a moment he just looked at her.
"What?" she said, echoing him with a grin.
His expression turned grave, his eyes dark and serious. "Nothing," he said
through a throat gone thick.
She opened her mouth to say something else, but he kissed her before she could.
Slow and lingering, hot and maybe a tiny bit possessive; an outpouring of
everything he couldn't say. Everything he didn't have words for, and everything
he knew she wouldn't want to hear anyway.
She must've understood, at least partially, because when she pulled away there
was a line between her brows. "Juice—"
"Don't say anything. Please. Just—for a sec, okay?"
He rested his forehead against hers and caressed the back of her neck. She
wanted to kiss him again, to taste his mouth and to feel that weird, crazy,
wild whatever-it-was that happened whenever their lips met. Ever since
Christmas he was the only one she'd wanted to kiss, and she had a feeling Ben
had known that all along. Portland hadn't been a tough decision for him, after
all.
"Juice," she said again, a whisper this time.
"It's okay, Olivia."
"But—"
"It's okay." He kissed her forehead. The scrunch she made of her nose. Her
full, soft mouth. "It really is okay."
But his smile was wistful as he pulled away, and she wondered if she wasn't
going to fuck this whole thing up. But she didn't know how to be any other way,
so she took him at his word, laced her fingers through his, and shut the door
behind her.
"You promised me a ride, Ortiz."
"That's right," he said. "I did, didn't I?" Once they were at the bike he
handed her a helmet and waited for her to mount up behind him. "Where to,
beautiful?"
"The pines?"
"Good choice. Hang on."
She wrapped her arms around him and pressed a brief kiss to the side of his
neck. He kept his speed low until he was on the road out of town, and then he
gunned it. The wind hit her face, surprising a laugh out of her, and he grinned
at the sound of it. He took the long way, choosing back roads and turn offs
seemingly at random, until finally he pulled off and cut the engine.
"You know, I was planning to actually take you out. Like for dinner or
something."
She hopped off the bike. "I'll make us something when we get back to my place."
"No need," he said. He pulled a bag out of the side storage and stowed their
helmets. "I brought food."
"A picnic?" she said, strangely delighted.
"Yeah, I guess." He helped her up the steep slope and unpacked the bag once
they reached the clearing under the trees. He had a blanket. A container of his
mom's pasta salad. Three sandwiches and two sodas and a baggie with homemade
chocolate chip cookies that she recognized as Gemma's.
"Oh my God," she said.
"What?"
"This is maybe the cutest thing ever."
He blushed and looked away. "I figured you'd be hungry, that's all. And since
you said you wanted to go for a ride, I wasn't sure we'd make it to a
restaurant or anything, so…"
He trailed off with a shrug and spread the blanket on the ground. Once they
were settled he reached for a sandwich, but she grabbed his hand.
"Maybe let's start with dessert first," she said.
"The cookies? Yeah, sure."
She twisted around and slid up onto his lap. Took his face in her hands and
slicked her tongue over his lower lip. "I didn't mean the cookies."
His eyes went big and the baggie fell from his fingers. "Oh," he said. "Hey
now. Did you bring me all the way out here just to make out with me? Because
I'm…I'm…not really…"
She was kissing the side of his neck, swirling her tongue behind his ear and
nipping the corner of his jaw with her lips. "You're not really what, baby?"
she murmured.
He swallowed hard. "You know, Liv, it's been like a week since we've…except for
yesterday, and that was…"
"A lot of fun," she said, sliding her hands under his shirt.
"Yeah. A lot. I just mean—"
"What, Juicy? You're feeling a little…frustrated?"
He shifted beneath her, suddenly glad she was wearing jeans. "A little. But I
get it if you still want to stick to what we talked about last weekend. Not
messing around, I mean. Because I like just hanging out with you, like talking
and stuff. If you want to just eat and not…we can. That's all I'm sayin'."
Her head tilted thoughtfully. "You know girls get frustrated too. Right?"
"Um. I mean. Yeah, of course." He blinked. "Are you saying—?"
"Yesterday was fun. And frustrating."
"That wasn't really my goal," his said, wryly.
"I know," she said with a grin. "But it wasn't like we could…not in that
situation. So, I mean. I took care of it last night when I got home, but it's
not the same."
His mind blanked for a few seconds. "Not the same as what?" he finally managed.
"You, Juice," she said. "Your hands." She kissed him. "Your mouth. I miss the
way you touch me."
He ran his palms down her back and smiled. "I'll touch you anytime you want,
Liv. You know that."
"Good," she said, her tone urgent. "Then touch me now, Juan Carlos. Please."
He flipped them over so that she was stretched out on her back. Dipped his head
to drop a soft kiss against the hollow of her throat. "You want me to make you
come, Livvie? Is that what you're askin' for?"
"Uh huh," she said. "Please."
"How?"
She hooked her finger under his chin and raised it up so that their eyes met.
Her thumb brushed over his lips and her brow quirked. "Can't you guess, baby?"
"You mean it?" he breathed.
She glanced away, suddenly unsure. "If you want to, I mean. I don't want you to
think you have to or something."
He laughed. "Look at me, Olivia."
Her eyes moved slowly to meet his, her expression nervous and uncertain.
"You have any idea how long I've wanted…I mean, since way before that night on
the phone, but since then it's been—" He cut himself off. "Yes, Liv. I
absolutely want to go down on you."
She shivered. He nudged the hem of her t-shirt up and kissed her tummy. Paused
a moment to study her face.
"Is everything okay?"
"Of course," she said. "Why wouldn't it be?"
"I don't know. You just seem…not quite you."
"Um." She ran her fingers through his hair and tried to smile. The truth was
she wasn't quite herself. She didn't feel like herself. She felt…unsure. Out of
her depth. Normally with Juice it was easy, but for some reason looking at him
now she wondered if maybe she hadn't been going about this the wrong way the
whole time.
"Liv?"
She blinked and snapped back to the present. "Sorry. I don't know. Maybe I'm
just tired or something. It's been kind of a weird week."
"Weird few weeks," he said with a quirk of his mouth.
"No shit." She traced the lines of his face with her fingertips. He closed his
eyes and leaned into her gentle touch, giving a low hum of pleasure.
"You like me, don't you, Ortiz?" she said. "Me, I mean. Not my boobs or, I
don't know. Some idealized version of me that isn't me at all."
His eyes opened with a frown. "I like your boobs a lot."
"Juice! I'm serious."
A brief sigh. "Would you think a second about our history? I'm pretty sure my
idealized version of you went out the window a while ago."
"I'm not entirely sure how to take that."
He rolled over to lie next to her and gathered her against him. "Babe, listen
to me. Whatever's going on in your head, whatever weird thing you're worrying
about now, forget it. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Okay?"
She tangled her fingers in his shirt and took a moment to just enjoy the feel
of his arms around her.
"We can just eat and I'll take you home if you want," he said into her hair.
"That was sort of the plan," she said with a giggle.
"That's not what I meant."
She tilted her head back to look at him, a wicked smile curving her mouth. "How
unfortunate." Wiggling out of her shirt, she took his hand and slid it up to
her breast. "You want me, Juicy?"
He let out a long breath. "Of course I do. You know I do. I always want you."
"Okay then. Why are we still talking?"
"Olivia, babe, I'm trying—"
"I know," she said. "I know and I appreciate it. But I'm tired of thinking and
worrying. I just want to feel good. No one makes me feel as good as you,
Juicy."
He kissed her, long and sweet, and kneaded her breast. "You're so sexy, Livvie.
So beautiful. I just wanna kiss you forever."
She smiled, a blush touching her cheeks. "Forever's a long time."
He met her eyes, and his were steady. "I know it is."
"We should get started then."
She hooked her fingers in his shirt and pulled him on top of her again. He
fisted a hand in her hair. Smiled down at her a moment before their mouths met.
He slid his hands behind her back to undo her bra and she helped him get rid of
his shirt. He held her tight against him, skin on skin, as his tongue stroked
against hers and she caressed his back and shoulders.
He kissed his way down her neck and chest, nipping her soft skin with his lips,
until he got to her breasts. He lingered there, sucking first one of her
nipples into his mouth, then the other, back and forth until she was gasping
and wiggling beneath him.
"Juicy! That's so good, baby!" she whispered, her fingers tangling in his hair.
He lifted his head to look at her. "Lesson number three, I guess?"
"Hhmm?"
"One was…" He tweaked a swollen nipple. "And two was fingering. So I guess it's
time for number three."
"Ohh." Her mouth moved in a lazy grin. "What if we skipped the lesson portion
and you just do your thing?"
"Really?"
She lifted a brow. "You don't sound sure."
"Well, no, I mean…that's fine. Great. I just…"
"What, baby?"
He sighed, scowling. She knew it wasn't directed at her, though, so she just
waited him out. "I like it when you tell me what to do," he said at last.
She let out a breath. "Oh," she whispered. She bit her lip around a grin. "How
about you do what you want until you get there, then I tell you what to do?"
"Yeah," he said with a grin. "That sounds good."
He watched her face as he kissed a line down the center of her body to the
waist of her jeans. She curled her fingers in his hair and smiled. Encouraged,
he unbuttoned her jeans and lowered the zipper. Her panties were white with
little blue polka dots, and he kissed the fabric as the denim parted to reveal
it.
She made a soft noise, and he pulled her pants down her legs. Earlier she'd
toed off her shoes, and now she kicked her jeans away. He paused a moment,
knelt between her knees, and just looked at her. His hand as he pressed it
against her belly was big and warm, a dark contrast to her pale skin, and he
flipped it over to trail the knuckles between her breasts down to her
bellybutton.
"You've got the most beautiful skin, baby. The way it goes all pink when I
touch you." He kissed the curve of her hip. "The freckles." Ran a fingertip
over the scars that started there. "And these."
Her brow furrowed. "What?"
"I've been wanting to kiss these forever. Since the first time I saw them. I
know you don't like them, but I think they're beautiful." He lowered his chin
and trailed his tongue along the raised line. Kissed it softly. Trailed wet,
sucking kisses down her thigh and over each scar, including the big one where
they'd attached the plate to her femur.
"Juice…" She was breathless, speechless. She'd never thought anyone would tell
her they were beautiful. Would want to even touch them, much less kiss them.
And he'd been wanting to…forever? Tears suddenly brightened her eyes, and when
he noticed them he froze.
"What? Did I hurt you? Did I—?" He had no idea. She was in such a strange mood
today, and he couldn't get any sort of read on her like he usually could.
"No," she said, quickly. "No, I just…no one's ever said that before. It sort
of…you took me by surprise."
He grinned. "Good surprise?"
She trailed her fingers down his cheek. "Yeah, Juicy. Wonderful surprise."
Dropping one last kiss on her leg, he lapped up the inside of her thigh,
pausing here and there to suck the velvety skin. "Wanna lick you so bad,
Livvie," he murmured. "Wanna taste you. Want my tongue in you when you come."
She shuddered, her back arching, and hooked her thumbs in the waist of her
panties. "Get rid of these, love."
He was tugged them down her legs, his palms caressing her as he went, and then
he was back between her thighs. He pressed a kiss to her labia and smiled up at
her, his expression suddenly shy.
"Tell me what you like," he said, trailing a fingertip along her slit. She was
hot and slick, and he thought he might actually drool.
"Don't start with my clit," she said.
"Tease you?" His voice was husky, rough, and it made her shiver.
"A little, yeah."
He let out a quiet moan and let his tongue follow the same path his finger had
just traveled. She wiggled, sighing, and he dipped between her lips.
The taste of her made him drunk. Dizzy and light-headed. Musky and spicy and as
sweet as he'd always expected. He'd tasted her before, on his fingers. On hers.
But this was completely different.
"Taste so fucking good, baby. Goddamn." He nipped her labia with his teeth and
she gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair. He swirled his tongue over her
outer lips, then slid between them to lap at the inner. He used the very tip to
explore every crease and fold of her, lap up every drop.
She whispered his name, a breathless litany, and he sucked her lips into his
mouth.
"Juicy!" she moaned, her back arching.
"Oh. Good?"
She laughed, low and honeyed. "Yes. Yes, good."
He captured one of them between his lips and rubbed his tongue up and down. She
squirmed, tugging at his hair a little, and he took the hint. He made his
tongue flat and soft and lathed up to her clit. Swirled around it without
touching, then barely brushed over it.
"Baby, please!"
He chuckled. "Had enough teasing?"
"Yeah, babe. Please, Juicy."
He pressed his mouth to her, her clit between his lips, and sucked. Harder when
she bucked against him. He lashed his tongue back and forth across her clit and
the muscles in her thighs danced. Hooked his arms under her knees and hauled
her closer, the blanket bunching beneath her and releasing the scent of pine
into the air.
He thought maybe from now on the smell of pine would make him hard, like,
instantly.
He spread her lips with two fingers and pressed his tongue against her clit.
Wiggled it in a slow circle that made her head fall back and her tiny, gasping
moans go high-pitched and almost silent.
"Fingers," she managed between breaths. "Use your fingers, baby!"
He pushed two fingers into her and rubbed them against her g-spot. "Like that?
That what you want, Livvie?"
"Yes, yes fuck yes please oh God!"
He twisted them inside her and lapped at her clit, alternating between long,
slow lathes and short, teasing flicks.
"So good, Juicy, oh God that's so good. Don't stop please don't stop fuck yes!"
He groaned against her and licked harder. Faster. Ran his tongue back and forth
from her clit to where his fingers were thrust deep inside her; captured the
throbbing nub for a series of deep, quick sucks.
"Fuck! That's it! Yes yes yes oh God yeah Juicy yeah yes!"
She came hard, her hips jerking and her head twisting back and forth as she
dissolved into wordless, incoherent cries and moans. She shuddered and ground
his face against her. The orgasm went on and on, wave after wave, molten and
electrifying. He kept rolling her clit between his lips, soft and gentle, until
she was whimpering and spent. Then he slowly eased his fingers out of her and
dropped one last kiss on her slick and swollen labia before he moved up to lie
next to her.
Her head lolled to look at him, and he had the biggest, smuggest grin she'd
ever seen in her life stretching from ear to ear.
"That seemed like it went okay," he said. "What's your verdict?"
She smacked his chest with the back of her hand. "Don't gloat, Ortiz." She
turned over to face him and traced her tongue around his mouth.
"A plus? Double check mark?" he said, still smirking.
"Oh shut up." She cupped her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him
closer for a long, hot kiss. "Yes, you adorable idiot. That was incredible. You
are a very quick study."
He hitched a shoulder. "I just thought about what you like me to do to your
nipples. And how you like me to use my fingers. Then I did that."
"Ahhh. Learning has occurred. What a good student you are, Juan Carlos."
"I don't hear that very often," he said, laughing a little.
"Liar. Honor roll, remember?"
"Oh yeah. So maybe sometimes." He dipped his head to lick a drop of sweat off
the side of her neck, and when he looked up again his warm brown eyes were
suddenly shy. "So when can I do it again?"
She blinked at him. "Um." Wiggled a little. "Right…now…I guess?"
"Really?"
He sounded so delighted she had to laugh. "Far be it for me to dampen your
excitement for going down on me. Yeah, Juicy. Really."
"Oh good," he said and made his way down her body again.
***** Don't Know *****
Chapter Summary
     Juice finds out Olivia went behind his back to Gemma.
                          our love's just smithereens
                           too much beer in my head
                         another night is getting late
                         and i don't know where to go
                       there's just this long white road
                          and i can't think straight
                           no i can't think straight
                          David Gray, "It's All Over"
A week later Olivia had dropped by the garage to pick up Juice, but as she
pulled into the lot her dad's stupid truck starting making wheezing, choking
sorts of noises. She rolled her eyes; stupid fucking thing. She popped the hood
and hopped out, poking and prodding and generally muttering. She wanted the
Cougar back. So, so bad.
She didn't notice that Tig and Chibs had stopped to stare.
She was wearing short cut-offs and a plaid shirt tied at her waist. Shiny red
Airwalks and…very little else besides the generous fall of bright hair. Her
legs were long and pale and scattered with freckles, and since Juice told her
he thought her scars were beautiful she hadn't felt the need to cover them up
nearly as much.
Chibs nudged him. "Shouldn't be starin' at her like that, Tiggy."
"You're starin' too."
"Aye, but…I'm just checkin' to make sure she doesn't need any help with that
blue beastie."
Tig snorted. "Sure, brother. I buy that."
Juice ambled over to the truck and said something to her. She laughed and they
kissed, briefly, then he joined her under the hood. She straightened a moment
to pull her hair back, running both hands through the coppery strands and then
twisting it all up into a knot that she secured with a rubber band.
Tig swallowed hard. "Think they're fuckin'?"
Chibs took a drag off his cigarette and cut his eyes at Tig. "Look at her,
Tiggy," he said.
She walked around to the passenger's side and leaned in to search for
something. She was draped half across the bench seat, half in the floorboard,
and her ass was up in the air like an invitation.
"That's a girl who knows how to get what she wants, and if what she
she wants is to be well and thoroughly fucked—well." Chibs shrugged and ground
out the butt. He tried not to think about what she'd said the other day, about
her teacher, because it brought all sorts of thoughts into his head that were
completely inappropriate, and borderline, to use her word, gross.
"I bet she makes him beg, though," Tig said. She was back at the front of the
truck again, and she handed Juice a wrench she'd dug up. He grinned at her, his
face brightening, and it was clear he was totally besotted.
"I bet he loves it," said Chibs.
A silence fell as they watched them. Finally Tig said, "Those pictures, man."
"What about them?" Chibs said with a frown.
"I dunno." He shrugged. "Just wondering what else he took pictures of. I mean,
was he watchin' her at home? Like, maybe, in her bedroom?"
Chibs turned toward him, his expression incredulous. "Her bedroom?"
"Yeah. Ya know, at night. In her cute little nightie or whatever."
Chibs closed his eyes and scraped a hand down his face. "You are one twisted
fuck, Tigger."
"Now you're gonna be thinkin' about it, too."
"Thinkin' about what?" Gemma said.
They both jumped and spun toward her, their faces matching expressions of
innocence. "Nothin', Gem," Chibs said. "We were talkin' about lunch, is all.
Tig mentioned, uh—"
"Thanksgiving. Those yams with the little marshmallows on top. Been dreamin'
about somethin' hot and sweet like that all morning."
Gemma glanced across the lot at Olivia and Juice and back at them. "Uh huh,"
she said. "How about you two quit droolin' and get back to work."
"Aye, mama," Chibs said.
She turned away with a snort and called out to Juice. He glanced their way with
a questioning look, and she smiled. "Come in the office a minute, sweetheart.
Need to talk to you about somethin'."
"Sure, Gem," he said and trotted toward them. He nodded to Chibs and Tig as he
went by, and they kept their faces blank as they returned the greeting.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Chibs glared at Tig. "Perverted shite,"
he said.
He lifted both hands in a shrug. "So sue me," he said, his blue eyes big and
guileless. "You were thinkin' the exact same thing, so don't try to lie about
it."
Chibs squinted across the lot before he looked back at Tig. "I gotta go take a
piss."
Tig blinked at him, then grinned. "Yeah, brother," he said. "But hurry up. I
gotta go too."
"Aye," Chibs said, shortly, before he took off for the clubhouse.
===============================================================================
By the time Juice got back Olivia had fixed the problem. Stupid radiator. It'd
need a new one soon, and it was absolutely not worth the expense or effort. But
they couldn't afford anything new. Maybe someone around the club knew somebody
who knew somebody who had some old piece of shit they wanted to get rid of for
cheap. At this point nearly anything would be better than the truck.
She climbed up into the cab and waited for him, but his pace across the lot was
trudging. His shoulders were tense, jaw tight and hands fisted. Uh oh. Gemma
must've talked to him about his mom and he knew there was only one way Gemma
could have that information.
So how pissed was he going to be?
The passenger door opened, and at the sight of his face she reached for him. "I
can explain."
"Explain what, Liv?" He boosted himself into the seat and slammed the door
shut. "Explain that you told Gemma my private business that I thought was gonna
stay between us? Or explain how you did exactly what I asked you not to do and
asked Gem to hire my mom? Is there anything else? Something I missed?"
She pressed her fingers to her forehead. Fuck. "Juice, please, I just—"
"Can we not have this conversation here?" he said. His voice was hard, his eyes
cold, and she realized she'd really fucked up.
She put the truck in gear and drove toward her house. They'd planned to spend
the afternoon there together anyway, but she had a feeling things were going to
fall out much differently than she'd pictured it. The ride was tense and
silent, and she could feel his anger like a physical thing.
She parked in her driveway and they climbed out. Walked toward the house and
inside. She paused a moment, wondering if bedroom or living room would be
better, but in the end led him down the hall. She closed the door behind them
even though she wasn't expecting her dad, then watched Juice as he paced.
"I'm sorry," she finally said.
He stopped and spun toward her. "Really? Are you really? Because it seems like
you got your way. Gem offered my mom a job and she said yes. She starts
Monday."
Her mouth opened. Closed again. Finally, carefully, "Isn't that a good thing?"
"I don't want charity, Olivia!"
"It's not charity, Juice. Gemma considers you family. Do you get that? TM and
the club and everything; it's a family. She would do the exact same thing for
me if my dad were fired. Or if Donna needed a job. Whoever."
"Why the fuck did you tell her about the cancer? I told you that in confidence!
That was between you and me."
"I know. I'm sorry. I just thought she should know. I knew it wouldn't make any
difference about whether she'd hire her, but…"
He glared at her, his hands shoved in his pockets.
"Juice, baby, I'm sorry. Gemma really does need the help, and your mom needs a
job. Why shouldn't Gemma offer it to her? She hates hiring strangers and now
she doesn't have to."
"Great. You and Gemma get the entire world lined up just the way you like it,"
he said, glowering.
Her head tilted. "What the fuck does that mean?"
"C'mon, Liv! You gotta have everything just your way. Touch me, don't touch me.
I'm not your girlfriend, I am your girlfriend. Tell people, don't tell people.
All Olivia's way!"
"What…?" She stared at him, astounded. "Juice, you said you were fine with all
that! You said you wanted to take things slow, let me set the pace. You said
you loved me telling you what to do! Thursday at the pines you were
disappointed when I wanted you to take the lead!"
He shook his head and ran a hand down his face. "I am. I have been. It's
not—you just can't run other people's lives, Olivia! It doesn't work that way."
"I wasn't trying to run your life, Juice. I was trying to help you."
"Right. Help me when I specifically asked you not to. When you told me you
wouldn't! Is that how it's gonna be? You keep my secrets and you respect my
decisions—but only when it suits you. Otherwise you go behind my back and
rearrange it all."
"It wasn't like that! I love you, Juice, and I can't stand the idea of you
being unhappy or hurt, especially if there's something I can do about it! Okay,
yes, I probably shouldn't've gone behind your back. I'm sorry about that. I
just wanted to help."
He stared at her, wide-eyed, and it looked like he'd barely heard anything
she'd just said.
"What?" she said. She was getting angrier. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes
bright, and her hair was falling down from the knot she'd tied it in back at
the garage. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "What,
Ortiz?"
"You just said—" He choked. Cleared his throat and tried again. "You can't say
that! That's not fair!"
"What? Can't say what? I can't apologize?"
"No, Jesus, you—" He surged toward her and grabbed her by the arms hard enough
to make her yelp. She stared up at him and her mouth trembled. He dipped his
head and captured her lips in a rough, furious kiss. He bit at her lips.
Scraped the inside of her mouth with his tongue.
"You can't tell me you love me just to get out of a fight," he grated against
her mouth.
"I—what?" she breathed. She replayed the last several seconds over in her head.
She'd told him—how—no. No. He had to've misheard.
"Yeah," he said at the expression on her face, his tone bitter. "That's what I
thought." He pushed away and turned his back on her.
Rubbing her fingers against her stinging lips, she stared at him. "I didn't say
it to get out a fight," she said, finally. Her voice was small, uncertain, and
thick with tears.
"Why then?" He didn't look at her, barely even jerked his head in her
direction.
She shuffled closer, her brow creased and her face tense. She reached for him.
Let her hand hover in the air for a few heartbeats before she stroked her palm
down his back.
He flinched and she went still.
"Juice—"
"It's all right, Olivia," he said, roughly. "You don't gotta say anything else.
I get it."
"Clearly you don't!" she said, suddenly frustrated all over again. She grabbed
his arm and pulled him around, but he dug his heels in and wouldn't move. With
an annoyed huff she crossed in front of him and jabbed her finger against his
chest.
"Don't you dare tell me how I feel, Juice Ortiz. Okay, maybe I didn't mean to
say it. Maybe it just slipped out. But that should tell you something,
shouldn't it? When I'm not thinking about it so fucking hard the first thing I
say is that I love you. Because I do. I love you so much it hurts. I love you
so much I don't have a clue how to make sense of it.
"I fucked up, okay? I shouldn't have gone behind your back and I shouldn't have
broken your confidence. I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say!"
He stared down at her, his face scrunched. "Say it again."
"I'm sorry."
"Not that, Olivia. Tell me you love me. Say it when you aren't pissed and when
you are thinking about it."
She sighed softly and rested her palm against his chest. "Juice, I love you.
I'm sorry I've made this so difficult and if I could go back I'd do it all
differently. Please, Juicy. Just…give me another chance, okay?"
He took her hand and squeezed it. "I wasn't gonna break up with you, Liv. I'm
just…I'm fuckin' pissed."
"I know. I get it." She pressed her hands against him and searched his face
with big, imploring eyes. "How can I make this better?"
He shook his head and took her by the arms, gently this time. Eased her away
from him. "You can't, Olivia."
Her mouth fell open. "Babe—"
"You had to know how I'd react. You knew what I was mad about the second you
saw me. But you did it anyway. Tell me I'm wrong."
Of course she couldn't. Her chin trembled and tears filled her eyes. "I thought
you weren't breaking up with me," she whispered.
"I'm not," he said. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I'm not breaking up
with you, but I need some time with this. I've done everything you wanted me to
do. Always. And the one thing I asked was that you not tell anybody about my
mom."
Her jaw went tight and she looked away. "You want a medal, Ortiz?" she said
through clenched teeth.
"What?"
"You've done everything I wanted you to do. So, what? You didn't force me to
have sex with you? I let you do what you begged me to do. I sucked your dick
and made you come in half a dozen extremely creative ways, and even though I
told you from day one that I didn't want a relationship, that's what this has
become. But you have done everything I wanted you to do."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"I never wanted this, Juice! Do you get that? I never wanted to fall in love
with you. I never wanted to feel anything. I just wanted some fun. You're the
one who made it more! You're the one who insisted on holding hands and going on
dates and being an actual couple. You're the one who asked me to prom and
called my scars beautiful and let me set the pace every single step of the way.
So don't blame me now if you're suddenly unhappy with the way things've gone
down."
The muscles in his cheek danced and his lips were a tight line. "I just wanted
to treat you good, Liv. I wanted you to see that you're worth more than a quick
fuck."
She surged toward him, small and furious and up in his face. "I know that!
There is absolutely nothing wrong with my self esteem. The last thing I need is
your pity!"
He fell back and lifted his hands. "Fine, Olivia. Believe what you want. You're
going to anyway. I'm goin' home. I'll call you tomorrow, when we've both had a
chance to cool off."
"Don't bother," she hissed.
He studied her for a long time, but finally he gave a short nod. "Okay," he
said. "I won't." He turned around and walked out, and a few seconds later she
heard her front door close.
"Fuck," she said. She stood frozen. Had she just broken up with him? Had she
told him she loved him then broken up with him?
She pressed both hands over her mouth to hold back a scream. How could she be
so stupid? So fucking smug and stubborn and blind? He was sweet and smart and
funny and everything she'd been looking for without even realizing it, and now
she'd just…thrown him away. Like he was nothing.
Suddenly something occurred to her and she sprinted down the hall. Threw open
the closet and let out a hard breath.
It was still there. He'd left his jacket. She grabbed it off the hanger and
somehow made it back to her room before the sobs doubled her over.
===============================================================================
"Hey, pumpkin," her father said as he joined her in the kitchen the next
morning.
She sat at the table in a t-shirt, shorts, and a leather jacket that was way
too big. A bowl of soggy cereal and a full glass of orange juice were in front
of her. He paused to study her face. He didn't recognize the jacket, but it
didn't look like her style, exactly. And there was the size. He thought he
could make an educated guess about its owner…and what might have prompted her
to put it on this morning.
Her eyes were damp and her nose red. She'd been biting her nails. She wore no
makeup, not even the mascara she rarely left her room without. He sighed and
settled across from her, and she finally seemed to notice him for the first
time.
"Oh," she said. "Hi, Daddy. Didn't hear you come in."
"You look like you have something on your mind."
"No." Her voice was quiet, rough. "Not really. Just didn't get much sleep last
night."
"Your light was off when I got home."
"I know. Just tossed and turned a lot, though."
He opened his paper and pretended to read it as he peered at her from behind
the folds. She fiddled with her spoon and stared at nothing.
"How's Juice?" he said, keeping his tone casual.
Her face fell and he felt like an asshole. He put the newspaper aside and
waited.
"We broke up, I guess," she finally said.
He made a low noise of sympathy. "What happened, sweetheart? I thought you
really liked him, and I know he liked you."
She nodded and crumpled a napkin in her hand. "I did something pretty bad."
Frowning, he shifted in his seat. "You didn't—you wouldn't…?"
"Oh my God, Daddy! I didn't cheat on him! I would never do that."
He held up a hand. "I know, honey, I know. I'm sorry." He sighed. Some days it
was like a minefield around here, but he guessed he'd maybe deserved it that
time. "So what happened?"
"You know Ms. Ortiz got fired from the mill right?"
"Yeah," he said, low and annoyed. "Bunch of bullshit."
"That's what I said. Gemma's been looking for an office manager, and that's
basically what Ms. Ortiz did at the mill, so I asked Gemma if she'd consider
giving her the job."
His brow furrowed. "Did she?"
"Yeah, and Ms. Ortiz accepted."
"Okay. I'm confused about the problem."
Olivia hauled in a breath and let it out. When she spoke again he could hear
tears in her voice. "I also told her about the cancer, which Juice asked me not
to tell anyone…and Juice didn't want to ask Gemma about his mom because he
thought it would be like taking charity."
"Gemma doesn't look it at that way, I'm sure."
"No, of course not. But…" She trailed off with a shrug. "He accused me of going
behind his back to rearrange everything my way."
"Did you?" he said, lifting a brow.
"Whose side are you on?"
"Nobody's side, Ollie. I'm just asking."
She scowled and pushed cereal around in her bowl. "I guess. Technically. But
that's not how I meant it! He was being so stubborn, and it was a great
solution. If Gemma was, like, making up a job for her it would be different.
But she wasn't, and you know how she hates to hire strangers."
He sat back and studied her through knowing eyes. "Juice is crazy about you,
pumpkin. I understand he might be angry, but I'm sure if you give him a day or
two he'll calm down and you two can work it out. He'll realize you meant well
and just went about it the wrong way."
After a moment she managed to paste on a smile. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. He just
needs to calm down a little."
"Exactly," he said. "I bet he calls before the end of the day."
"Sucker's bet," she said, but there was little conviction in her voice. "I'm
not dumb enough to take that action."
He grinned and patted her hand. "That's my girl." His smile transformed to a
glower as he caught sight of her bowl. "Throw that out. I'll make you some
eggs."
"Thanks, Dad, but I'm not really hungry." She pushed back from the table and
stood up. "I think I'll go do my homework."
"It's Saturday morning, Olivia."
"I know. I'll get it out of the way and have the whole weekend free."
He hesitated. Then, "Okay, pumpkin. I'll see you later."
She nodded and wandered off. He meant well. Of course he did. But she couldn't
really bear to tell him that Juice wasn't going to be calling her today or any
other. She'd sent him away because he'd hurt her and she couldn't handle having
him that close.
She'd told him she loved him. She'd meant it.
It wasn't what she wanted. Any of it. He was gone and it was better.
Maybe if she told herself that often enough she'd start to believe it.
===============================================================================
And so the weekend wore on. He didn't call. He saw her Monday morning in
algebra, and they nodded to each other but didn't say anything. He told Jax and
Opie he had too much homework and couldn't hang out with the group, and they
both accepted it without too many questions.
Tuesday he avoided the shop during free period, and as he scooted in just as
second bell went, she was already shrouded in her welding gear. She heard the
bell though, and she lifted the visor. When she saw him the hurt in her
expression was something that would stick with him for a long time.
He scowled down at the oil filter in his hand. She told him not to call. Don't
bother. That was a little more than just don't call me because I'm pretty angry
and need a little time. She'd told him she loved him—he'd tried to forget that
part, but he couldn't—and then she'd told him it wasn't what she wanted. She'd
been real goddamn adamant about it, too.
He knew it wasn't what she wanted. He wasn't stupid. He'd been listening. It
was mid-March. They'd been dancing around each other in one way or another
practically since the beginning, but especially since the kiss at Christmas.
Her answer to that had been to go out and fuck Mr. Collins. So how was she
going to react to this?
That wasn't fair. The Mr. Collins thing hadn't had anything to do with him. And
what he'd said, about wanting to show her she was worth more than a quick
fuck—that hadn't been fair, either. She was a girl who liked sex. What was
wrong with that?
"Lad. You gonna do somethin' with that filter or just make faces at it all
day?"
Juice jerked and almost dropped it. Finally he had a good grip and he raised
his head with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Chibs. Got distracted."
"Aye." He held out a hand. "Here. Time for your break anyway."
He nodded and wandered off, still holding the filter. Chibs rolled his eyes,
grabbed another one from the shelf, and went to find the customer. He had a
good idea what was wrong with the kid. It was Wednesday, and Olivia had worked
Monday and Tuesday. She'd had a similar lost puppy look about her, but Juice
elevated the puppy part to a new art form.
Chibs got the thing installed, handed the whole deal off to Piney, and went
looking for the kid. He sat on one of the picnic tables, his feet propped on
the seat and his elbows on his knees. His head was bowed and his hands loosely
clasped between his knees.
Sighing, Chibs ambled that way and sat down beside him. Lit a cigarette and
leaned back to prop his elbows on the table.
"Can I have one of those?" Juice said.
Chibs cut his eyes up. "Didn't know you smoked, lad."
He hitched a shoulder. "Whatever. Not like it matters."
"Aye, well. I'm not your mama. Just don't let her catch you; or if she does,
don't tell her where you got it." He fished another one out of the pack and
passed it to Juice. Offered his lighter and watched in amusement as he lit it,
took a long drag, and sat back to smoke like a pro.
He tossed Chibs his lighter back and smiled a little at the look on his face.
"I smoked back in Queens. Thought people'd think I was cool."
"Did they?"
"Nope."
"Ach. Wee bastards."
They smoked a while in silence, watching the comings and goings around the lot.
Finally Chibs nodded toward Juice's mom's car. "See we've got a new employee
around the place. Brightenin' things up, as it were."
Juice snorted and flicked some ash. "Yeah. Not really my idea, but I guess it
works."
And it did. His mom had been so thrilled when she got home Monday, especially
because Gemma didn't treat her like an invalid, she said. There was a lot to do
and Gemma had basically just pointed her in the right direction and let her go.
The pay was decent. Her benefits had started right away, which Juice had a
feeling wasn't the usual case.
He wanted to be pissed. He really did. But fuck if Olivia hadn't been right all
along.
"Somethin' on your mind, Juicy boy?" Chibs said at his glower. He paused. "Lady
trouble, perhaps?"
"That fuckin' obvious?" Juice said, rough and bitter.
"Didn't take a genius, way the girl's been the past couple days. Now seein'
you…well."
He looked at Chibs with a little frown. "I thought you were off the last two
days."
"Ah…" He shifted his weight. "Aye, well, I'm still here. Around the clubhouse
and whatnot. The club, yeah?"
"Right," Juice said. "The club." He flicked the butt away and hopped off the
table. "Break over, I guess. Thanks for the smoke."
"Juicy," Chibs called as he walked away.
Juice turned, warily, and Chibs waved a hand. "Don't let her go easy, lad. Girl
like that doesn't come around every day. Fight. You'll regret it if you don't."
"Yeah, Chibs," he said. "Thanks."
Good advice, in an objective sort of way. But he wasn't sure how practical it
was. She'd been clear, and Juice wasn't an idiot. He wanted her. Wanted her
more than he'd ever wanted anybody. He loved her.
If she didn't feel the same way, or if she did but for some reason didn't
actually want to be with him…well. What exactly could he do?
***** With the Brakes On *****
Chapter Summary
     Tara encourages Olivia to make things right with Juice, and she'd
     decided to take the advice when she's thrown a curve.
                       but unless the moon falls tonight
                           unless continents collide
                  nothing's gonna make me break from her side
                  'cos when you're driving with the brakes on
                    when you're swimming with your boots on
                       it's hard to say you love someone
                        and it's hard to say you don't
                   Del Amitri, "Driving With the Brakes On"
It had been two weeks. It was the last Thursday before Spring Break, and Olivia
would be glad for the vacation. She hated seeing him every day. Algebra three
times a week, shop twice a week. She'd stopped going by there during free
period, and her work was suffering.
She didn't care.
Which she fucking hated. She didn't want a boy to make her just…stop. But she
had. She went to school and TM, and that was it. Tara would ask her to hang out
and she'd always come up with an excuse. It wasn't like she locked herself in
her room and listened to Alanis Morisette and Hole all day (as Opie had accused
her of). She just didn't really feel like going through the motions. Smile.
Laugh. Make conversation.
She kept waiting for Tara to call her on her bullshit, but so far it hadn't
happened. Obviously everyone knew she and Juice had split, but she hadn't told
anyone why. She didn't know if he had or not. The one person who did know,
apparently, was Chibs, because he'd cornered her a few days ago and told her it
was time to get over it and go apologize.
He was probably right. She was the one who'd fucked up, after all. She was the
one who'd told him not to call.
But what could she say? I love you. I'm sorry. Come back.
That wasn't the type of person she was. That wasn't the sort of thing she said.
She wandered out to the parking lot after last bell, and her breath caught when
she saw what was on the truck's windshield: a rose. Red. Tucked under the
wiper.
Juice knew she didn't like roses. So who…?
She pulled it out, and when she got a closer look her mouth clamped into a grim
line. On one side the rose was perfect, beautiful and fresh. On the back side,
though, the side she couldn't see until it was in her hand, all the petals were
missing. It was stripped bare, and as she studied it she could tell the work
had been done carefully, with a knife or maybe even a scalpel. Jesus.
She shuddered and climbed into the truck. Opened the glove compartment and
added the rose to the stash: a pair of her panties she'd found in her locker; a
small box of chocolates with a tack stuck in each piece of candy; and now the
flower. It was like Valentine's Day in Hell.
She hadn't told anyone about the gifts. She knew she probably should, but what
did it matter anyway? Just TJ being a dick and trying to rattle her. The
panties did, sort of. How had he gotten them? If they weren't hers then she had
a pair exactly like them, and they'd gone missing a month or so ago.
"Hey, Gable!"
The voice came from nearby, but when she turned to look she thought she had to
be mistaken. John Patric was jogging across the lot toward her truck, and he
was waving like a mad man.
"Um, hi," she said when he was close enough. "You got the right person?"
He grinned and shrugged. "Yeah, of course. Listen, my parents are going on a
cruise next week, so I'm havin' like a huge blowout. I mean, I'm tryin' to
invite everybody. It's Wednesday. Starts at seven, but just get there
whenever."
She blinked at him. "John—"
"I'm not inviting TJ. He's like the one person. I mean, I guess he could show
up anyway, but look—all the lacrosse guys are pretty pissed at him. He's one of
the best players on the team and he got himself kicked off for fighting. It was
stupid."
"You aren't pissed at Juice?"
"I dunno. Kinda think TJ had it coming, really, especially since you and Ortiz
were goin' out. Like, it woulda been weird if he hadn't done something, you
know?"
Were. She hated that past tense. "Yeah. I know." She shook her head a little.
"So why are you inviting me?"
"C'mon, Ollie. You're cool. TJ was a shit to you, and I shoulda said something.
Katie said I should invite you."
"Katie?" Olivia paused. She had no idea what to make of that. It was possible
this was a sincere invitation (from Katie; John was half a puppy), but it also
could be the beginnings of a prank on par with Carrie at the prom.
Whatever. Fuck it.
"Sure, John. I'll be there. Are you inviting Jax and Ope, too?"
"I guess, yeah. If they wanna come. Doubt they will though."
Her mouth curved. "Probably not. They're kind of assholes."
He gaped at her. "They're your friends."
"Oh yeah, I know. I love them. But they're assholes."
"Um. Right. So anyway. See you Wednesday?"
"I'll be there."
"Cool. Katie'll be happy." He stepped back from the truck and waved before he
took off the other way. She watched him go with a nonplussed little smile.
Weird.
She got over herself a little and called Tara when she got home. Swallowed her
pride and invited her over, and after some token grumbling Tara agreed.
"Well, well," she said when Olivia opened the door, "if it isn't my long-lost
best friend."
"Oh shut up."
"I'm sorry? You barely speak to me in two weeks and then you tell me to shut
up? I'm gonna have to ask you to not be a bitch to me for at least five minutes
while I readjust."
Olivia sighed. "I'm sorry, Tara. You're a goddess and I'm unworthy to bask in
the splendid glow of your presence. I've been a terrible friend and I deserve
any and all righteous punishment you choose to visit upon me."
"Better," Tara said, grinning.
"You need anything else? I could bake you some cookies."
"Jesus, Ollie, are you trying to kill me? No. We're good. Now talk to me. What
the fuck happened with you and Juice?"
"Oh my God. At least get in the house before you start grilling me." She
stepped back and waved Tara inside. Once they got to Olivia's room Tara
collapsed on the bed and snagged the latest issue of Seventeen off the
nightstand.
"I didn't invite you over to talk about Juice," Olivia said at last. She
dropped into the desk chair and propped her feet on the edge of the bed.
She didn't look up from the magazine. "Of course you didn't. Doesn't mean we
aren't gonna talk about it. Hey, you think I could pull this off?" she said and
showed her a fashion spread.
Olivia snorted. "No one could pull that off, Tara. That's the point."
"Hhmm. Yeah, I guess." She dropped the magazine and fixed Olivia with a shrewd
look. "So? Does it have something to do with Juice's mom suddenly working at
TM?"
Olivia's nose scrunched. "Sort of." She recapped the entire fight for Tara,
including what he'd said about her having to have everything her way, and
what she'd said about…loving him.
"Holy shit," Tara said when she was done. "You told him you loved him and then
you kicked him out? Ollie—"
"You don't have to say it. Believe me, whatever it is I've said it to myself
more than once in the last two weeks."
"But you meant it, right?"
"Yeah I meant it. I'm stupid, not a jerk."
"Both of those points are debatable," Tara said, dryly.
"My best friend, ladies and gentlemen."
Tara waved a hand. "So what're you going to do?"
"What do you mean?"
"Olivia. You love him. He loves you. You had a stupid fight. Are you really
going to let one fight derail everything?"
"I don't know," she said. "I don't have any idea what to do."
Tara sighed. "Talk to him. That's what you do. Apologize. Tell him how you
feel. That's it. That simple. He's been as mopey and draggy as you the last two
weeks. He misses you."
"Fine. I guess I could try to figure something out. I just…I really don't know.
It seems like maybe I've waited too long."
"Maybe you have, but you won't know until you try."
She really hated it when Tara made so goddamn much sense. "That isn't why I
asked you over."
"So you said." Obviously Tara knew a change of subject when she saw one, but
she figured it was better to let it lie. Olivia was stubborn, and if she dug
her heels in things might never get fixed. And if Tara didn't know anything
else, she knew Olivia and Juice belonged together.
"What's up?" she said, sitting up a little straighter.
"Apparently John Patric is having a party next week. And I'm invited."
"Wait. What?"
"Yeah, that was kinda my reaction. He said Katie wanted him to invite me."
"Wait. What?"
Olivia laughed. "Kind of weird, right? He said you guys could come to, if you
wanted. I guess he's inviting everyone—except TJ."
Tara let out a low whistle. "Well, well."
"Yeah. TJ's gonna be pissed."
"Are you gonna go?"
"I thought I might," she said with a shrug. "You think you can get Jax to go?
And Opie and Donna?"
"But not Juice? That's kinda shitty."
"Oh, no, I mean. Juice can come if he wants. I just didn't know if he would."
Tara studied her a moment. Then, "You aren't worried it's gonna be some weird…I
don't know…"
"Pig's blood situation?"
She held up her hands in a shrug. "Yeah, maybe."
"It could be, I guess. I don't know. I kind of don't care. Like, honestly.
After everything else a bucket of pig's blood might actually be an
improvement."
"Ollie, ew. That's disgusting."
"A little bit," she said, unconcerned. "But you get voted Blowjob Queen and see
how much you care after that."
"Good point," Tara said. "So you want us to come too? I feel kinda weird
letting you go in alone."
"It's not enemy territory, Tara."
"Um. It kinda is."
Olivia scowled. "Yeah, I guess it kinda is. If you can talk Jackson Teller into
going to a party at John Patric's house, then far be it for me to say no. I bow
before you."
She gave a smug grin. "These days Jax is pretty easy to talk into nearly
anything."
"You're welcome," Olivia said with a laugh.
Tara shifted on the bed and leafed through the magazine again. Put it aside and
fixed Olivia with a long look. "So did you and Juice ever…?"
"Nope. Not technically."
"Huh. But he…?"
"Had no real cause for complaint. Why? You hear different?"
"Nope," Tara said. "I was just curious." She paused. "He hasn't said anything,
as far as I know. I mean, Jax would tell me, I think, and he hasn't."
"He's not really the type of person to kiss and tell."
"You can't let him go, Ollie. He's good for you. You know that, right?"
She bit her lip and looked away. "Yeah," she finally said. "Yeah, I know."
===============================================================================
Tara had to drag him, but Juice went to the party. Tara wasn't stupid: she'd
recruited Donna to the cause, and Donna had gotten Opie to agree to go. After
that Jax was a shoo-in, and Juice really didn't have an excuse. His mom
practically pushed him out the door when he mentioned it, so with a scowl and
some muttered curses, he relented.
He didn't get there until nearly ten, but the party was in full swing. Someone
filled a cup for him from the keg and he wandered through room after room, all
packed full of kids. He knew some of them, but there must have been people from
other schools there because a lot of the faces were unfamiliar.
He saw Dana across the room and they shared a nod. She was talking to Katie
Adams, and when Katie saw him she immediately broke off and worked her way
toward him. Juice thought about bolting. It was crowded; she'd never know he
was specifically avoiding her. And if she did know, who cared, really?
Finally she was at his side, and he had to admit she looked pretty. Her blonde
hair was down around her shoulders and she was wearing some sort of shiny pink
lipgloss. Not at all like Olivia, but wasn't that sort of the point?
"Hi, lover," she purred, her bubblegum mouth nearly against his ear.
He shifted away, his eyes scanning the room. "Nothing happened, Katie," he
muttered. "Don't call me that."
"Nothing's happened yet, but if you play your cards right that could change."
He wasn't interested in her. At all. But she'd been throwing herself at him
from practically the moment it started to get around school that he and Olivia
had broken up. He missed Olivia like a fucking limb, and Katie was pretty and
mean and shallow. Basically everything Olivia wasn't (except the pretty part,
of course, but they looked way different), so he'd taken her out. Once. And
she'd stuck her tongue down his throat and it hadn't done a single thing for
him. He hadn't seen her since.
Now she had her arms around him and her body draped against his, but he wasn't
really paying attention. Then she kissed his neck, and he looked down at her
with a frown. "Katie, I'm not really—"
She kissed him, sticking her tongue down his throat again, and he jerked away.
And of course. Of fucking course. That's when he saw her.
She stood nearby, definitely within Katie's line of sight, and she had a cup in
her hand. Her hair was a fiery tumble down her back and she had on a short
skirt that showed off miles of leg. She crossed her arms over her chest and a
slow, sardonic smirk unfurled across her face. She tipped her cup—whether to
him or to Katie, he couldn't tell—in an ironic sort of salute, and then she
turned away and was swallowed up by the crowd.
===============================================================================
Well, she thought. She hadn't been looking for him. Not really. She'd gotten a
beer and started to wander, but in the way of things between them, she'd
somehow found him. Fast. And when she saw him her stomach did that flippy thing
and her heart constricted and she knew Tara had been right. She had to have him
back. She had to do whatever it took, and worrying about her pride was stupid
and pointless.
The surging crowd closed around her and she cursed. He was gone, cut off from
her line of sight, and she hated being so fucking short. The one good thing…she
pushed and shoved and snuck her way through until she hit a clear spot. Looked
back to where she'd seen him and went still.
Katie Adams was draped all over him, an arm around his neck and her body
pressed full-length against his. As Olivia watched, Katie pressed her lips to
his neck. It seemed to startle him, and when he turned toward her she kissed
him. Not a small, tentative peck, but a huge, tongue-filled smooch. Familiar,
Olivia thought. Not the first time.
He didn't…he didn't look exactly happy about it, though. More alarmed. And
maybe annoyed?
He saw her, and for a moment she didn't know how to react. Then her mask
snapped into place. A smile curved her mouth and she saluted him with her
drink. He worked fast, she had to give him that. She spun on her heel and
worked her way back through until she was at the kegs again.
Her cup was still half full, but it would give her something to do. And the guy
manning the keg had seemed okay, laughing and joking with her and keeping his
eyes (mostly) off her tits.
"Back already?" he said when he saw her.
She grinned. "Couldn't stay away. Just top me off," she said and held out her
cup.
"Sure thing. Hey, you go to South, right?"
"How do you know that?"
"No way I wouldn't've seen a girl as cute as you at North. What's your name?"
She couldn't help but blush a little. He was tall, blue eyes and dimples, and
while his smile wasn't Juice Ortiz caliber (whose was?), it was nice enough.
"Olivia," she said. "Most people call me Ollie."
"That's so fuckin' cute!" he said, laughing. He waved somebody over. "Dude,
look. This's Olivia, but call her Ollie."
She turned to greet the newcomer and he grinned down at her. "You go to South?"
he said. "I'm Rob."
"Yeah," she said. "South. You guys are at North?"
"Yup," Rob said. "Too bad." He eyed her up and down. "Scenery at South's
fuckin' nice."
Her brow furrowed a little. Yeah. Time to make her exit. "Thanks for the
refill," she said to the first guy. She hadn't caught his name, but it didn't
really matter.
Rob put a hand on the small of her back, gentle and easy. "Don't run off so
fast. We should chat. If you want to."
"Um." She sipped her drink to give herself something to do. It had suddenly
gotten sort of warm, and she thought maybe she shouldn't've gone for that
refill after all. But that was stupid. She'd had half a fucking beer. She
looked up at Rob and smiled, the dimple in her chin winking. "Yeah, sure. Kind
of loud in here, though."
"Let's go out by the pool. Music's quieter out there."
She nodded, and the brief spike of alarm she felt when his hand tightened
against her back faded quickly. It hadn't been that strong anyway. More kind of
of pang than a spike. Was she getting a migraine? The lights seemed bright and
kind of fuzzy, and that happened sometimes before…
Rob was saying something, but she'd lost the thread at some point. "Huh?"
"Oh, just said we could go upstairs instead. If you'd rather do that. It might
be cold outside."
Her face twisted. That didn't seem right. Why would she want to go upstairs?
"Come on," he said, steering her that way. "That's a better idea."
She managed a vague sort of nod, but she wasn't really sure about the whole
thing. She didn't know this guy. What was his name again? She was about to say
something, pull away and maybe try to find Tara for a ride home (she really
didn't feel great all of a sudden), when she nearly smacked into Juice.
===============================================================================
"Fuck," he muttered. He took Katie by the shoulders and pushed her away, gently
but firmly. "I'm not interested, Katie. Okay? I'm sorry if I misled you, but
I'm not."
"Don't be silly, Juice. You know I'll put out too. And I'm not a mega-slut like
her," Katie said, pouting.
He shook his head. "Whatever. Not sure I can make myself any clearer." He broke
away and plunged into the crowd after Olivia, but who was he kidding? This
place was huge, and packed, and she was small.
Except from day one he'd had some sort of weird sixth sense about her, like he
always knew where she was or what she was doing when they were in any kind of
vicinity of each other. He felt it now, like a tingle against the back of his
neck, and he stopped to look around.
He finally saw her near one of the kegs. A guy he didn't know was refilling her
drink and getting an eyeful of her tits in the snug t-shirt she wore. She was
smiling at him, laughing at something he said, and he pointed behind her. She
turned her head and another guy walked up. He rested a hand on the small of her
back and whispered something in her ear, and even though she laughed Juice
could tell she was uncomfortable. Even from across the room he recognized the
tightness around her eyes and the firm set to her mouth.
The second guy started to herd her away from the keg, his hand now
less resting and more grabbing. Juice glowered and pushed his way through the
press. The guy was big; she was small; and Juice knew her well enough to tell
she didn't like his hand on her. He broke through and stopped short as he
nearly collided with her.
"Oh!" she gasped, startled. Her eyes widened a little and darted from him to
the guy and back again.
"What the fuck, man?" the guy said. "You almost made me spill my beer."
Juice ignored him. His gaze was trained on Olivia's face, on her flushed cheeks
and lush mouth, but for once not in any sort of lustful way.
"What's your problem?" he said. "Get outta the way, man. My girl and me have a
date."
Her head pivoted toward him, slowly, and her nose scrunched. "We do?" she said.
"Yeah, baby," he said with a leer. "Remember?" He started to pull her away and
she stumbled.
Juice's eyes narrowed in fury. He crowded close, up in the guy's face, and
glared. "What did you do to her, asshole?"
"Do? Come on. Don't you know who this is? Olivia fucking Gable.
She's always beggin' for it!"
"What?" Olivia said. Her voice sounded sort of fuzzy, unfocused, and Juice felt
another surge of fury.
"Babe," he said, keeping his voice quiet, "maybe come with me instead? You even
know this guy's name?"
She frowned. "S'nothing, Juicy. Just gonna talk, that's all. And you were
kissing Katie Adams!"
"You heard the lady." The guy threw an arm over her shoulders. "Just gonna
talk."
Juice shoved his shoulder. "Get your hands off her, dickwad. Liv, how much have
you had to drink?"
She stared at her cup like she wasn't sure what it was. "One. Half, maybe.
Juice…feel weird."
"What did you give her? How much? Look at her. She can barely stand up."
She was weaving on her feet, swaying and leaning against her "date." People had
started to take notice now, and a murmur spread through the crowd.
The guy glowered. "Nothin', man. Just a little something to help her relax."
"What?" Even in her dazed state that got through. She pushed away from him and
almost fell, and when he went to grab her Juice knocked him away.
"I told you to get your hands off her. I wasn't fucking kidding."
"Do you know who I am?" the guy scoffed.
"Yeah, buddy. You're a loser asshole who's gotta drug girls to have a chance.
You ever touch her again I will fuck you up. Got it?"
"And who the fuck are you, shit head?"
Suddenly the guy's buddy, the one from the keg, appeared behind him. He
muttered something in the guy's ear and his face changed. He let go of Olivia
and took a step back.
"Shit, man. Didn't know she was your girl. Sorry."
Juice gave him a look of pure disgust and wrapped a protective arm around her.
"Fuck you. You knew her and didn't know her friends?"
He held up both hands and backed away. "We didn't mean anything. It was just a
joke."
"Yeah. I'm sure her buddies in SAMCRO'll be super sympathetic."
Olivia giggled. "Chibs thinks I'm cute."
"Everybody thinks you're cute, babe," Juice said, quietly. "Let's get you outta
here." He shot one last glare at the two guys and led her away. The crowd
parted to let them through, and even though he looked he didn't see Jax or Opie
anywhere. Tara or Donna, either, but honestly Opie was the one he was most
likely to spot.
She stumbled along, her expression confused, and he realize there's no way he
could get her home on his bike. She'd probably forget to hold on or something.
"You bring the truck?" he said.
"You kissed Katie Adams."
"We'll talk about that. I promise. Where are your keys, Olivia?"
"Um." She fished in her jacket pocket, but she felt like she was wearing
mittens. "Um, don't know."
The old blue truck stood out among the sleek Mercedes and bulky SUVs, and once
he got them there he propped her against it and searched her pockets.
"Gettin' fresh, Ortiz?"
He cupped her face in his hand and made sure her eyes were on his before he
spoke. "No, Liv. You hear me? No way."
"So serious," she said and giggled.
He got the truck unlocked and lifted her into it. Buckled her seatbelt and
hurried around to the other side. He had to pause a moment, his hands on the
wheel, to let his desire to go back in and kick that guy's ass all over the
fucking party dissipate. Jesus Christ what if he hadn't gone looking for her?
What if he hadn't found her and that motherfucker had gotten her alone?
He scraped a shaking hand down his face. Seemed like he and his buddy had been
in on it together. With her drugged and passed out…
He couldn't think about that. Couldn't let it enter his brain or he'd fucking
kill that guy. Kill both of them. Kill any asshole who even looked at her.
"Where're we goin', Juicy?" she murmured.
"Home, sweetheart. I'm gonna take you home."
"'Kay. Come inside?"
Nodding, he started the engine. Backed carefully out of the tight parking spot
and headed toward her house. Her hand was on the seat between them, palm up,
fingers curled. He reached for it, lacing his fingers through hers, and at the
contact she stirred.
"Feel really weird," she said.
"I know, baby. It's okay. Nothing bad's gonna happen to you."
"I know. I'm with you." A brief paused. Then, "I love you."
He grimaced. "Pretty sure that's just the drugs talkin'."
"Yeah," she said after a moment, but she sounded sad. "Yeah, I guess you're
right."
***** Over Me *****
Chapter Summary
     Juice gets Olivia home after the party, and later they finally have
     the conversation they've been avoiding.
Chapter Notes
     Monster chapter today, loves. It's shorter than how it started, so...
                under you i feel your blood flowing out slowly
             under you let go completely feeling you take over me
                                 take over me
                         Better Than Ezra, "Under You"
He got her inside and to her bedroom. Helped her with her boots and hesitated,
but ultimately put her to bed fully dressed. He pulled the covers up and she
smiled at him. Curled her fingers into his shirt and tugged him down to her.
"Don't leave," she said.
He frowned. Maybe he shouldn't. He had no idea what or how much she'd been
given, and with her size.…If he left her alone and something happened he'd
never forgive himself. He could hang out until her dad got home and then tell
him what had happened, and he could look out for her the rest of the night.
He took off his boots and crawled in next to her, on top of the blankets. She
turned toward him, snuggling close, and made a frustrated noise at the barrier
between them.
"You don't want me, Juicy?"
"Liv, babe, you're not yourself. You know I always want you." He slid an arm
beneath her and gathered her against him. Her forehead rested against the curve
of his shoulder and he shivered at the feel of her breath on his skin.
"Sleepy."
"It's okay. Go to sleep. I've got you."
"'Kay." Her breathing deepened and he thought she'd fallen asleep when she
stirred again. "Love you, Juicy. Sorry. Come back. Please come back."
Tears filled his eyes and his head fell forward. He'd only been waiting to hear
her say it for two and a half weeks, and now when she finally did she was under
the influence of some date rape drug. The worst part was he knew she meant it.
But she wouldn't remember any of this in the morning, and what could he say to
her then?
So last night after those fuckers drugged you at the party…
No. He'd just have to keep waiting. If she could say it once while drugged out
of her gourd maybe she'd eventually get around to saying it sober. He just had
to make sure there were no repeats of the Katie Adams incident. It wasn't worth
it. Not just because he didn't really like Katie, but also because there was no
other girl for him besides Olivia. She was who he wanted, period, and if meant
waiting her out, fine.
Tara was obviously on his side, so that helped. Olivia would come around
eventually. She'd taught him to be patient, ironically enough, and he thought
he could apply that lesson to this too.
He laced his fingers in her hair and stroked it back from her face. She was
asleep now, and a tiny line had formed between her brows. He kissed it; it
smoothed and a little smile replaced it.
"I love you, Olivia," he said. "I can wait."
He must've fallen asleep too, because the next thing he knew he jolted awake,
terrified by the sound of a low, angry rumbling. He sat up fast, and Olivia
rolled away with a murmured protest. Juice scraped a hand down his face and
blinked.
James Gable stood in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. Juice
hadn't closed the door, and he'd thought he would hear the Cougar in time to
move safely to the desk chair. Instead James had caught Juice in bed with his
daughter…but fully clothed, at least, and on top of the covers while she was
under them.
"I can explain!" Juice said, lifting his hands.
"That would be a good idea," James said. He jerked his head toward the kitchen
and Juice fell in step behind him. Sat down at the table while James got a beer
from the fridge, opened it, and took a long pull. "So?" he finally said.
"Explain."
Juice cleared his throat. "Okay, first of all, nothing happened. At all. I
mean…" He made a gesture to indicate his clothes.
There was a brief, sharp silence. Then, "I thought you two broke up."
"We did."
James didn't say anything, just watched him with stern blue eyes. Juice
squirmed. Geez. Maybe having a dad wasn't so great after all.
"Did she tell you about the party tonight?"
"Yep. At John Patric's house. I was a little surprised she wanted to go."
"Yeah. Not really her crowd." He took a deep breath and let it out. "Somebody
drugged her."
He pushed away from the counter all in a rush. "What? Drugged her? What the
fuck happened?"
"I don't know, exactly. She was talkin' to these guys, and she had a…" His face
twisted. He thought maybe her having a beer at a party was a lesser
consideration at this point. "She had a beer. She told me she'd drunk maybe
half of it. Anyway, one of the guys was just acting kinda…too friendly. He was
taking her upstairs when I stopped them, and she was out of it. Like, stumbling
around and slurring and acting really confused."
"After half a beer? And you're sure that's all she had?"
He hitched a shoulder. "No. We weren't together or anything. But, I mean…she
doesn't drink. Maybe a little bit sometimes like when she's hanging out with
us, Jax and Tara and everybody, but I don't think she'd ever get drunk at a
party. Especially not a party like that, at John Patric's house."
"Jesus," he said. He rubbed his face and set his bottle aside. "But you stopped
it, right? Got her out of there before anything happened?"
"Yeah. Totally. I got her away from that asshole and brought her home. I
thought I should stay with her in case…I don't know. I didn't know how much
they'd given her, and she's pretty small. Somethin' like GHB is real strong,
you know? Would be easy for her to OD."
He shifted in his chair and looked away. "I guess I fell asleep. But nothing
happened, I swear. I'd never do that to her. All I did was take her shoes off
and put her in bed. That's it."
James held up a hand. "I believe you, Juice." He stumbled to the table and
dropped in a chair, shaking his head like someone had just hit him really,
really hard.
"Jesus," he said again. "You try to do everything you can. Try to protect her
and…teach her right. You do everything you can, but at some point you gotta let
her go to a goddamn party, right? Then something like this happens? If you
hadn't been there…"
"Trust me, I know," Juice said, grimly.
"You know the guys who did this?" James said, his stunned gaze sharpening.
"Nah. Don't think they go to South. I can try to find out, though."
"Good. Do that." He paused. "Tell me their names, and then quietly, without her
finding out, tell your friends at TM." He met Juice's eyes, and his were hard
and cold, like ice. "Do you understand?"
He hesitated. "You know what they'll do to them, right?"
James nodded once, down and up again. "I'm counting on it. I don't much like my
daughter hanging around a biker gang all day, but if she's going to do it she
might as well get something out of it."
"The second they connected her to Jax and Opie they backed off."
"Good," he repeated. "That's good. Now I want to make sure they regret ever
putting their hands on my little girl." He studied Juice a moment. "She was
happy with you, Juice. As happy as I've seen her since her mom died. I know she
overstepped, telling Gemma about your mother—just like I'm overstepping right
now, but I guess it runs in the family—but she meant well. Any chance you could
forgive her?"
Juice smiled, small and sad. "Mr. Gable, I forgave her practically the minute
it happened. I mean, yeah, I was kinda pissed, but I just needed a little time
to get it sorted out in my head. She's the one who told me to stay away."
His head fell back and he let out a strained laugh. "Of course she is. Well.
I'm sorry about that, Juice. If I could do anything to help I would, but you
know how she is. I can tell you she misses you."
"I guess that's good to know."
James' eyes flicked to the clock on the wall and he frowned. "I saw the truck
in the driveway. I'm guessing you left your bike at the Patrics'."
"Yeah. Didn't really seem safe trying to get her home on the back of a
motorcycle."
"Come on," he said, pushing himself to his feet. "I'll give you a ride home.
We'll swing by there and load your bike into the truck. I've got a ramp thing
we can use."
"Sure," Juice said. He stood up and tucked his hands in his pockets with an
embarrassed smile. "Thanks, Mr. Gable. For being cool, I mean."
"Cool about finding you in bed with my daughter, you mean?"
"Um. Yeah. That's what I meant."
He gave a heavy sigh, and his expression was grave. "I know you're not the type
of person to take advantage of a situation like that. Yes, it helps that you're
both fully clothed and you were outside the blankets, but…" He lifted his hands
in a shrug. "I trust you with my daughter. Do you understand what that means? I
trusted TJ with her and I was about as wrong as I could possibly be."
He grabbed Juice's shoulder and squeezed. "Don't let me down. More importantly,
don't let her down."
"I'll do my best, Mr. Gable. I just know I don't ever wanna hurt her."
"That's a good first step," he said. "And please, Juice. Call me James."
===============================================================================
The next morning when Olivia pulled in, Juice's bike was in its usual parking
spot in his complex' lot, but Ms. Ortiz' car was missing. She must be at work.
Or maybe chemo. Olivia hopped out of the truck and smoothed a hand down her
leg. She was nervous. She had so much more to say to him than thank you, and
she could only hope he took it well.
There was a long silence after she knocked on the door, and she began to wonder
if maybe he and his mom had gone somewhere together. Then it opened, abruptly,
and his greeting died on his lips as he blinked down at her.
Color flooded her face. He was wearing his usual cargo pants, but he hadn't
bothered to put on a shirt. His hair stuck up around his head.
"I'm sorry," she said. "Did I wake you?" It was a little after eleven, but if
he'd stayed at her house until her dad got home, he hadn't gotten back until
late.
"Yeah, but it's okay. Uh. Come in." He stepped back, then closed the door
behind her. He stood a moment, seemingly at a loss, until he finally said,
"Have a seat. I'll be right back."
He disappeared down the little hallway and a few seconds later she heard water
running in the bathroom. She didn't sit. There were pictures on the wall,
Juice's class pictures going back to preschool. She couldn't help but smile: he
was adorable. An adorable toddler. An adorable little boy. An adorable, gawky
middle schooler.
A noise behind her, and she turned toward it. He hovered awkwardly in the
doorway, hands shoved in his pockets. He'd combed his hair and put on a shirt.
They watched each other, both wary, neither sure how to proceed. Finally Juice
smiled a little.
"How're you feeling?"
"Oh," she said. "Not too bad. Woke up with a pretty nasty hangover, but my dad
made me breakfast and I took some aspirin. A shower helped a lot, too."
He nodded. Shifted his weight a little and let his eyes travel the room. "Can I
get you something? Like a drink or anything?"
"No," she said, a smile touching her mouth. She took a step toward him and he
eyed her uncertainly. She hesitated. A fist clamped around her stomach and she
swallowed hard. "Juice, about last night—my dad told me what happened."
His brow quirked. "If you came by to thank me or something, don't worry about
it. Jax or Opie or anybody would've done the same thing. I couldn't let that
guy—" He broke off with a glower. "I could tell you weren't yourself is all."
"You didn't have to stay with me."
"Of course I did. You know how easy it is to OD on GHB? If that's what they
gave you. If I'd left you alone and something'd happened I never would've
forgiven myself."
After a moment she nodded. Her eyes searched his face for some
sign—some hint—that he wanted her to be here more than just to thank him. But
his expression was open and affable, and he didn't seem at all stressed or
upset. And he still hadn't really stepped into the room.
"Juice," she said, her voice quiet, "please come here."
Frowning, he shuffled closer. A few feet. Still too far. Maybe he was right,
though. Maybe it was her turn to go to him.
So she did. Three long strides and she had her fingers curled in his t-shirt.
"I'm sorry, Juice. I love you. Please come back."
He stared down at her, his dark eyes wide, and after a moment he raised a hand
to cup her face. Tentative at first, but then with more confidence when she
leaned into the touch. "You said that last night."
"Did I?"
"Yeah. I thought maybe it was just the drugs."
"I'm not on drugs right now."
"I know it. Olivia—"
"I know you and Katie kissed last night. I remember that part. I don't care. It
doesn't matter." She paused and her face scrunched. "Unless you actually like
her, and then I guess it does, but I don't think you do because—"
He interrupted the stream of chatter with a kiss, firm and warm and just a bit
rough. "I don't like Katie Adams. At all."
"Really?"
"Of course really. C'mon, Liv. You know that. You know you're the only girl for
me. You know I love you."
"Really? she repeated, a bare whisper.
He dipped his head to kiss her again. "Yes, really."
Her arms went around him and she pressed close, up on her tiptoes so that she
could hug him as tight as she could. "Say it again, Juicy. Please."
"I love you," he murmured into her hair. He brushed his nose over it and took a
deep breath. The scent was the same. The feel of her. His hands traced the
lines of her back, and when she finally eased away it was too soon. There were
tears on her cheeks, and he kissed them away.
"I'm so sorry, Juice. I shouldn't've gone behind your back like that and I
never should've told you to stay away from me. This has been the longest few
weeks ever. I've missed you so much."
"You don't gotta apologize, Livvie." He couldn't stop kissing her: her
forehead; nose; cheeks; mouth. "Don't gotta say you're sorry. Just tell me
you're back. Tell me you're mine and you're not gonna go anywhere again."
"I am. I'm not. I'm here as long as you'll have me."
"Forever," he murmured as his mouth closed over hers.
Her lips parted and their tongues rubbed and he felt like he couldn't get her
close enough. Her fingers were in his hair, and she tugged it until his head
fell back with a groan. She kissed a line down his throat, teeth scraping and
lips nipping.
"Bedroom?" she murmured against his skin.
"What—it's—huh?"
She grinned and poked him in the stomach. "Where's your bedroom, Ortiz?"
"Oh. It's…it's down here." He laced his fingers through hers and led her down
the hall. He pushed open the last door and paused a moment, almost embarrassed.
"Um. This's it."
It was incredibly neat, maybe the neatest sixteen-year-old boy's room she'd
ever seen—not that she'd seen many, but neither Opie nor Jax kept their rooms
like this. There was a poster of a motorcycle on one wall, and a Metallica
poster on another. A desk jammed in the corner, and the only things on it were
a cup full of pencils and pens, and a picture. She grinned when she saw it, and
she was surprised he'd kept it out after they broke up.
"I remember this," she said. "At the beach."
"Yeah. That was a good day."
"It was," she said. She turned to him, still smiling, and he shut the door.
"Where's your mom?"
"Work," he said. "Won't be back till after five."
She bit her lip. "It's not even noon."
"I know."
"I didn't mean to wake you up."
He'd been drifting closer as they talked, and now they were nearly touching. He
grinned down at her. "It's fine. I'm glad you did. I mean…I'm glad you didn't
wait until later to come over."
"I basically came as soon as…I ate breakfast, took a shower, and headed this
way. I really wanted to talk to you."
He brushed the heel of his hand along her jaw. "I'm glad."
"Me too," she said. She felt suddenly shy, as though he hadn't seen her naked
before. And that was why she'd suggested they come back here, wasn't it? To get
him naked? Now suddenly she wasn't sure.
"It's okay, Liv. We don't have to do anything."
"No," she said. "No, I want to."
He tilted her chin and kissed her. "We can just hang out. Or, I don't know.
Take a nap."
She laughed. "Take a nap?"
"What? I was out late last night."
"Ohh, I get it. You're tired. Okay, sure. Nap it is."
"Well, no, I mean, it was just an idea. We can do—whatever."
He had a twin bed, and the idea of a nap snuggled so close to him was
appealing. "Maybe nap after," she said with a wicked curve to her mouth.
"After…?"
She stepped into him and slid her arms around his neck. "Do you have any
condoms?"
He swallowed hard and nodded as his hands drifted to her waist. "Yeah, babe,"
he said. "I hide 'em in a shoebox in my closet."
"Wouldn't want your mom to know her baby boy believes in safe sex, huh?"
"Better to preserve some illusions, right?"
She kissed the corner of his jaw and walked away to perch on the edge of the
bed. "Maybe you should grab a handful."
"Uh. Yeah. Don't—don't move." He ducked into the closet and dug around for a
minute, and when he turned back she'd taken off her shirt. For some reason it
felt like the first time all over again, like he'd never seen her bra before,
and for a moment he was speechless.
She blushed and looked away. "What?" she said.
"Nothing. Nothing. I just forgot…I guess I forgot how gorgeous you are."
Her blush deepened. He stepped closer, and after a moment he trailed the back
of his hand down her chest, over the curve of her breast. She looked up at him,
her eyes wide, and he grinned. He sat down next to her and she pulled a leg up
so that she could twist to face him.
"Hey," he said.
"Hi," she murmured.
He carded a hand in her hair and brushed his mouth over hers. She ran her
fingers up under his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. Leaned down to kiss
his chest, trailing her lips down his sternum and flicking her tongue over his
nipple.
He pulled her up again and held her face in his hands while they kissed. He
tasted like mint, she thought. He must've brushed his teeth when he went to put
his shirt on. That was cute. Really super cute. She sucked on his lip and ran
her tongue over his teeth while his hands tightened in her hair.
She scooted backwards, toward the head of the bed, and he followed her. Tossed
the box of condoms on the nightstand and pulled her down against him as he
stretched out. She draped herself over him, his leg between hers, and then they
were kissing again, lips and teeth and tongues and hot breath.
He unclasped her bra so she could wiggle out of it, and when she pressed
against him it was skin on skin. They rolled over and his palm found her
breast; she gasped against his mouth when he caught her nipple between his
knuckles. He pinched it a little. Rolled it and tugged.
"You like that, Livvie?" he said.
When she nodded he grinned and moved down to capture the other one with his
lips. He nipped and sucked; lathed his tongue over it and then switched. She
moaned beneath him and curled her fingers in his hair. He loved the feel of her
nipples as they swelled in his mouth, and when he pulled away he smirked at the
sight of them, big and rosy. Sexy as hell.
The expression on his face made her laugh, and she ran a thumb over his lips.
"Are you gloating, Ortiz?" she said.
"Maybe a little."
"What did I tell you about that?"
He gave an unrepentant shrug. "Whoops," he said. She giggled as he bent to
circle his tongue around her bellybutton. His hand hit the button on her jeans,
and she nodded when he cast her a questioning look.
"Don't stop," she said.
He slid them down her legs, slowly, caressing her skin as he went, then kissed
his way back up. He lavished attention on her scars, licking and kissing and
sucking, mumbling endearments against her skin, until she was flushed and
panting.
"You're so beautiful, Livvie. Love you so much. Wanna kiss you forever."
She sighed and pulled him toward her by the hair. "Come here, baby," she
whispered.
His eyes crinkled a bit as he grinned, and he took his time about it. Long,
lingering kisses and soft, teasing licks across her belly. Along her ribs. Over
her breasts. When he finally got to her mouth she captured his face in her
hands and traced the shape of his lips with the tip of her tongue.
"You want me, Juicy?"
He let out a stuttering sort of laugh. "Are you kidding? Don't think I've ever
wanted anything so bad in my life."
Her brow furrowed. "But it's been good, hasn't it? I know we haven't—but we've
done other things, and I thought—"
"Babe." He kissed her. "It's been crazy good. I'm an asshole, okay? That shit I
said when we were fighting was bullshit."
"I don't know. Sometimes when we're mad or upset we say the things we mean
most."
"Like that you love me?"
A warm, soft smile. "Yeah, like that."
He paused. Traced a constellation in the freckles on her chest and pressed a
kiss to her skin. "I guess maybe sometimes I get frustrated. Not with the sex
thing. That's all…I told you before I wasn't ready, and I meant it. So it's
been great."
She played with his hair and waited him out.
"It's hard not knowing what you want. And what you want seems to change every
week. I know sometimes you don't have it figured out, and so I try to keep that
in mind and just go with it, but sometimes I feel like I need a magic decoder
ring or something."
Her brow quirked. "I think that might just be the human condition, love."
"Yeah, maybe. I don't know."
She used a finger under his chin to raise his head so that their eyes met.
"Juice, listen. Thank you for putting up with my bullshit. Thank you for having
patience with me. Here's what I want: you. I want to be your girlfriend. I want
the world to know it. I want to hold hands in the hall and make out in my dad's
truck and have picnics that sometimes end in sex and sometimes don't. I love
you. I want you."
She leaned forward to kiss him, and when she fell back again she was smiling at
him. "That clear enough for you?"
"Yeah," he said, grinning, "except…"
"Except what?" she said with a laugh.
"When you say end in sex, do you mean…?"
"I don't know. I mean whatever we want it to mean. Right now, though? Right now
I mean sex. You, inside me. Okay?"
"Yeah, okay," he said on a breath.
"Unless you're still not ready, because if you're not—"
"No!" He flushed and his smile turned sheepish. "No, I'm ready."
"Oh good," she said, her tone teasing. She hooked her finger in the waistband
of his pants and tugged a little. "You should probably get rid of these."
He reached for his zipper, but she stopped him and did it herself. He wiggled
out of his pants and shorts, and when he stretched out on top of her again he
was naked, his cock hot and hard between her thighs.
"Baby," she whispered.
She kissed his face and traced every familiar line of it with her fingertips.
He smiled and trailed his mouth along the line of her jaw. His hand drifted
lower, between her legs to cup her through her panties. She wiggled, and his
fingers slipped under the edge of the fabric to brush against her lips. She was
wet, dripping and slippery, and he drew in a sharp breath.
"Take these off me, Juicy," she said, almost a whimper, and a few seconds later
they were gone, down to her ankles and kicked away.
He let the very tip of his finger slide across her clit, and at the noise she
made his grin deepened. He moved down her body again, this time his mouth
rougher as he kissed and nipped at her soft skin. Little red marks bloomed in
his wake, and when he paused a moment to lick one she squirmed.
"Don't stop, baby, please!"
"It's good?" he said, his voice husky. "This's good?"
She laughed, breathlessly. "Yeah, babe. It's perfect."
He made a low noise, almost a growl, and bit the inside of her thigh. She
moaned when he sucked, then louder as he increased the pressure. When he pulled
away there was a dark red mark, and he grinned as he kissed it.
"Not where anyone can see," he said.
She giggled. "God I hope not."
He brushed his nose along her slit and kissed her labia. "You want me to lick
your pussy, baby?" he rasped.
Her head fell back against the pillow and she panted softly. "Yes, Juicy.
Please?"
He let his tongue slide along the same path before he dipped it between her
lips to flick the tip across her clit. He cut his eyes up to watch her face as
he circled it, barely touching, and as color flooded her cheeks he spread her
open and lashed his tongue against her.
"Oh God!" she moaned, her hips lifting off the bed.
He lapped up and down, over her clit and down to wiggle inside. Captured her
clit between his lips and sucked, brushing his tongue back and forth across it.
He scraped it, just barely, with his teeth and she let out a high, whimpering
keen.
"Fuck!" she said on a gasp. "That's so good, baby, so damn good—!"
His nose bumped over the sensitive nub as he swirled his tongue inside her.
Lathed it against her G-spot until she was breathless and trembling. The noises
changed, became shorter and more desperate, and he pulled away with a grin.
She let out a groan of frustration. "Juan Carlos!"
"Sorry, baby," he murmured as he kissed her. "You're not coming today until I'm
inside you."
She moaned and fisted a hand in his hair. She could taste herself on his mouth,
mingling with the mint, and she licked his lips and chin clean. He gasped her
name and her fingers closed around his throbbing cock.
"Get me one of those condoms, love," she said, nibbling his lips.
He fumbled blindly at the nightstand behind him until he hit the box. Somehow
he managed to get his fingers around one of the little packets, and she grinned
when he handed it to her. She hadn't let go of him, and the slow stroke of her
hand around his aching erection was almost more than he could stand.
"Tell me, baby," she said and ripped the package open. "When was the last time
you came?"
He blinked at her, befuddled. "Uh…Monday, I guess? Ran into you at work.
Remember?"
"I do remember." She rolled the condom up his shaft and he gave a soft moan.
"Why then?"
"Dunno," he said. "No, not true. You and Tara'd been out that day, and when you
got there you were wearing that skirt. The black skirt. From the camping trip."
"Ohh." She laughed. "I didn't even think about that."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously. I promise." Her head tilted. "Now if it had occurred to me, I'm
pretty sure I still would've it."
"You're mean, Livvie," he breathed.
"Am I?" She squeezed him and he groaned.
"Uh huh." His eyes closed and his head fell back. "Fuck, baby, want you so
goddamn bad!"
"Mmmm, Juan Carlos, that's what I like to hear."
She slowly eased her fingers off his cock, and after taking a moment to catch
his breath, he moved over her. He kept his weight on his elbows and dipped his
chin to kiss her: mouth, jaw, cheeks, closed eyelids.
"Love you so much, Livvie," he whispered into her ear. He brushed his nose
against the soft skin of her neck, and she sighed, sexy and sweet.
"I love you too, Juicy. Please, sweetheart."
He grasped his cock in one hand and rubbed the tip over her clit. "What, baby?
This what you want?"
She bit her lip and nodded. "You know I do."
He let out a hard groan and slid into her, just the head, and paused to watch
her face. She smiled up at him, her eyes warm, and he grinned. He plunged in
the rest of the way, to the hilt, and her body arched into him.
"Good?" he gasped.
"Yeah, baby. Yeah. So good!"
"Not gonna make me quit this time?" he said with a panting laugh.
"Don't you dare quit. Don't you dare." She drew her legs up to wrap around his
thighs, and at the increased pressure against her clit she groaned. "Might have
to kill you if you stopped now."
He grimaced. "Good thing I wasn't plannin' to stop, then."
She giggled and kissed his nose. "Move, Ortiz. Please!"
He did as she begged, slowly rocking into her, pressing deep and grinding his
hips to work her clit against her pubic bone. Their tongues brushed as he
kissed her, and he swallowed her moans and whimpers with an eager noise of his
own.
"You feel so good, baby," he said. "So hot and wet. Goddamn didn't know
anything could feel so fucking good!"
Her fingers tangled in his hair and her hips moved with him. "Juicy, oh God,
yes please yes that's it that's perfect don't stop!"
He'd gotten her right to the edge with his mouth, and now the feel of him big
and hard inside her, and the way he moved against her clit, had her there
again. She bit his earlobe. The side of his neck. The curve of his shoulder.
He knew her face better than he knew his own, and he recognized that particular
lush softness to her mouth. "Come for me, Livvie. Come with me inside you. Come
all around my cock, baby."
"Oh God," she whimpered. "Yes Juicy fuck yes oh God!"
It hit hard, an electric rush that sizzled through her. She jerked against him,
crying out his name and half-incoherent pleas, and he dropped kisses over her
face and down the smooth line of her throat.
"That's it, Livvie, fuck that's so sexy. Love makin' you come, baby, love the
way you say my name."
"Fuck, Juicy," she breathed. "Jesus." She pulled her legs higher, around his
waist, and his forehead dropped to her shoulder. She ran her fingers down the
back of his neck and kissed his temple. "Okay, baby?"
He managed a brief laugh. "Uh huh. Just tryin'…don't wanna come yet. But God
you feel good."
She nibbled the curve of his ear. "I bet you could make me come again."
He lifted his head, grinning. "Oh yeah?"
She shifted beneath him and he hissed. She wiggled a little, drawing her legs
down his body and pressing them together between his. His eyes widened at the
change in sensation: her lips were snug around his cock, and she gasped when he
rocked into her.
"You like that?" he mumbled, his mouth hot against her neck. "That feel good?"
"Yes, baby. Yeah fuck don't stop!"
He couldn't thrust, but he didn't care. The feel of her, hot and wet and tight,
was better than anything ever, even her mouth, and the sexy little noises she
made and the sight of her face…
Her nails tightened against his scalp and she braced her other hand against the
wall above her head. Her lips were incredibly sensitive, and he hit her clit
every time he moved.
"Oh God," she gasped, high and breathless. "Oh God, Juicy, oh my God that's…"
She trailed off into wordless whimpers, and he bit his lip hard.
"So goddamn sexy, Livvie." He planted wet, sucking kisses against her neck and
grasped her hips to pull her up toward him. "You love my cock in you, don't
you? Love the way I make you feel."
"Yeah Juicy yeah oh God oh fuck yes!" The last word was almost a scream, and
this time when she clenched around him he knew he wouldn't be able to hold on.
Her muscles rippled beneath his hands and her throat worked but no sound came
out.
"Fuck baby fuck that's so hot love you love you love you!"
With a groan and a cry he came, his cock jerking and spasming inside her as she
shuddered through her own orgasm. He held her tight, mouthed her neck and
shoulder, and she moaned his name in a breathless chant.
"Holy shit, Livvie," he breathed. "Holy shit."
Finally it started to subside for both of them, and he slumped against her,
boneless and flushed and tingling everywhere. There was a long silence while
they both scrambled for breath, but finally she laughed and stretched.
"Wow," she said.
He groaned and rolled away to get rid of the condom. "Yeah?" he said as he
pulled her close. "Wow?"
Giddy, she giggled and snuggled against him. "Yeah, Ortiz. Wow."
He licked away a droplet of sweat that slid down her temple and ran his hand
along the length of her body. "I was thinking wow too, but I wasn't sure."
"Juice. Come on. I don't think it's actually legal for people our age to have
sex that good. I think there's a law against it. No sex that good until you're
at least twenty-five."
He grinned and kissed the spot behind her ear. "Maybe thirty."
Her fingers tangled with his and she turned so that they were face to face. Her
eyes were warm on his, her expression intent.
"What?" he said, brow furrowing.
"Nothing," she said with a brief smile.
"Bullshit. Something. What?"
She chewed on her lip and he brushed her hair off her forehead. "I've never
been in love before."
"Oh." He grinned. "Is that all? Yeah, me neither."
"It's not funny, Ortiz!"
"I'm not laughing. Not really." He tilted her chin up and kissed her, soft and
slow. "We're gonna be just fine, Liv. You and me. Everything else's just
details."
He leaned back and his mouth twisted. "And if the sex is this good now, imagine
what it'll be like when we're thirty!"
"Hhhmmm." She shoved gently at his shoulder until he rolled over onto his back,
pulling her with him so that she straddled his hips. She guided his hands over
her breasts and down to her hips. "You still gonna want me when we're thirty?"
"Baby," he said on a breath, "I'll still want you when we're eighty."
She went still, and he tensed. Then suddenly, like a light flipping on, her
mouth curved in a huge, breathtaking smile. She laughed and rested her hands
against his chest. "When we're eighty, huh?"
"Yep," he said. "Ninety, too. A hundred. I don't know. How long you think we'll
live?"
Her shoulders rippled in a shrug that did fascinating things to her breasts. He
pinched a nipple between his knuckles and she captured his hand in hers.
"Doesn't really matter, does it? I mean, as long as it's you and me."
Their fingers twined together and she squeezed.
"It will be," he said. "It's gotta be. You're mine, Liv. You're mine and I'm
yours."
"Oh good," she said and bent to kiss him. "I really like the sound of that."
***** The Edge *****
Chapter Summary
     Juice figures out who drugged Olivia at the party, and TJ ramps up
     his long-distance harassment.
                  these back steps are steeper to the ground
                     the brightest stars are falling down
                i'm walking the edge, walking the tightest rope
      we can be frank, reality rips on through, rolling like a hurricane
                    i'm over the bridge and under the rain
                         Matt Kearney, "Crashing Down"
The rest of Spring Break passed in a sort of daze. They both rejoined their
social circle, and no one commented on their absence. Or the breakup and
reconciliation. It wasn't really their style anyway; life just rolled on, and
you either rolled with it or got out of the way.
Juice had been asking around, trying to find the guys who'd drugged Olivia.
John Patric had been no help; he hadn't even invited anyone from North, he
claimed, and he didn't really know any of them. He said he barely knew half the
people there—which had sort of been the point, but still. Juice told him
without mentioning Olivia's name that the guys he was looking for had been
drugging girls' drinks, and John had promised he'd try to find them.
It was another week before Juice finally found what he was looking for. John
couldn't figure out exactly who it was, but he did know that most of the guys
from North were on the lacrosse team there. They'd thought it was funny to
crash the rival team's party, apparently.
Juice got his hands on last year's yearbook and went immediately to the
lacrosse team photo. There they were. Back row and second row. Rob Brady and
Thomas Henderson.
What a couple of pretentious douchebags.
He ripped the page out (he was sure SanWa North's library could spare it) and
stuffed it in his pocket. The librarian tried to stop him on his way out, but
he ignored her and kept going. Jax and Opie waited for him in the parking lot,
and he handed the page to Jax. He'd circled their faces, and after a moment Jax
nodded and passed it to Opie.
"I remember seein' the one guy. Henderson. He was workin' the keg most of the
night," Opie said.
"Brady tried to hit on Tara at some point," Jax said. "Smug little shit. She
threw her beer on him."
Juice's mouth quirked. "Okay, so, what do we do?"
"We could handle it ourselves," said Opie, shrugging.
"These guys are on a team," Jax said. "You think they're really the only two
doin' this shit?"
"For all we know they pick a girl and sort of…" Opie glanced at Juice and
cleared his throat. "Just sayin', I mean—"
Juice held up a hand. "I know, man. Believe me, I've thought of it all." He
shook his head. "Not sure the three of us can take on the entire SanWa North
lacrosse team."
"We can't send the club after a bunch of dumb high school assholes," Jax said
with a scowl.
"High school rapists," Juice said. "You think they gave up after I got Olivia
out of there? There might be some poor girl right now who had a really shitty
time at that party."
"And if not that one, other ones. Juice's right," Opie said. "No way this was
the first time. No one even saw them drug her, far as we know. That's pretty
fuckin' smooth."
"The club's supposed to be keeping crime out of Charming, right?" Juice said.
"I think this counts."
Jax' jaw worked a moment before he finally nodded. "I'll take it to Clay."
"Nah," Juice said. "Lemme handle it."
Jax and Opie exchanged looks.
"Olivia's my girl. If I'm not goin' after these guys myself, then I at least
gotta be the one to bring this shit to the club. I'll talk to Chibs."
They shared a wordless conversation, but Juice was so used to them by this
point that he mostly ignored it. He knew Jax wouldn't be able to talk to Clay
until dinner at the earliest, and Juice was planning to head straight to TM to
see Chibs. So it really didn't matter what they decided. He buckled his helmet
and waited, straddling his bike as it idled beneath him.
Finally Jax gave a nod. "Yeah, Juicy. We'll let you make the play on this one."
"Great," Juice said. "Glad to hear it."
He offered a wave as he revved the bike and peeled from the parking lot. He
understood where Jax and Opie were coming from; he was still an outsider in
most ways, and they had their way of doing things. But when it came to Olivia
it was his call, not theirs. Yeah they were her friends, and obviously they'd
known her longer, but he didn't care. She was his. Period.
It gave him a hot, electric thrill to know he could say that (at least to her)
and not get smacked for it. And he was hers, and he loved that just as much.
He'd thought he was heading to TM, but suddenly he realized he was a block from
Olivia's and heading the wrong direction. He grinned. Detour.
At his knock she opened the door and hauled him in by his hoodie. His arms went
around her and his mouth was on hers and he grabbed double handfuls of her
hair. She nibbled his lip and rubbed her tongue against his. They swallowed
each other's moans and pressed as close as they could with clothes on, but he
wanted more. He started to back her down the hall, toward the bedroom, but she
stopped him.
"Wait," she murmured. "Just a sec. I've got something I want to give you."
"A blowjob?" he said, grinning.
She smacked his chest with the back of her hand. "Keep it up, Ortiz."
"Sorry," he said. He obviously wasn't sorry at all, and his cocky, face-
illuminating grin had her kissing him again. He slid his hands under her t-
shirt at the small of her back, and the feel of his warm palms skating along
her ribs made her pant.
"Wait, okay," she said. She pulled away and dodged him when he tried to grab
her. "Hang on, hang on!"
He let out a long sigh and lifted his arms in surrender. "Fine. But don't blame
me because I can't keep my hands off you."
"Your hands, or your mouth?" she said.
"Both," he growled. He closed in on her again, but she giggled and ran the
other way. He pounced, pushing her against the wall, and pressed his body into
hers.
She let out a long breath and squirmed. He dipped his head to trail soft kisses
down the side of her neck while he stroked the smooth skin just above the
waistband of her jeans.
"Sorry, baby," he mumbled. "Gonna try to behave. I promise."
"You just come here for a booty call, Juan Carlos?"
"Nuh uh," he said. "Promise. Just missed you, that's all."
"Mmhhmm." She tangled her fingers in his hair and tugged his head back. Nipped
at his Adam's apple and then pushed him away. "Two seconds, baby. Two seconds
and then I'll take you down the hall and we'll do things that are illegal in
twenty states."
He paused. "Like what?"
Grinning, she said, "I don't know, love. I guess we'll have to do some research
first." She opened the closet door and reached in to pull something out, and
when she turned around she was holding his jacket.
He was still stuck on do some research first, so it took a second to register.
When it did he blinked and frowned a little. "What's up?"
"I'm giving it back to you. Turn around."
He did, slowly, and then shrugged into the jacket when she slipped it over his
shoulders. She walked around him and ran her hands over his chest, smoothing
the leather.
"There," she said. "Much better."
He tilted his head and inhaled through his nose. "Smells like you."
"Um." She glanced away, blushing. "Yeah. I sort of…I wore it a lot. While we
were apart? I was really relieved you hadn't taken it and it reminded me of
you, so…"
He hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her head until their eyes met.
"You wore my jacket?"
"Yeah…?"
His face creased in a huge smile. "That's the cutest thing I've ever heard." A
thoughtful pause. "Kind of the sexiest, too."
Her blush deepened. "I guess I shouldn't mention the part where sometimes it
was all I was wearing. Or just that and panties."
He let out a hard breath and pulled her against him. "Baby, did you ever…?"
"Once?" she said, embarrassed. "Maybe—maybe twice…?"
"Holy shit. Don't think I'll be able to wear this again without gettin' hard."
"That so?" She smirked and brushed her hand across the front of his pants. "You
know how much I love makin' you hard, Juicy."
"You're very mean, Olivia Gable."
"You love it. Every second of it."
He groaned as her fingers tightened around his erection. "Yeah," he said. "Fuck
yeah I do."
She nipped his jaw with her lips. "Didn't you say something about a blowjob?"
"Pretty sure I did."
Tossing a teasing smile over her shoulder, she sauntered down the hall toward
her bedroom. "Then come on, baby. Not sure what you're waiting for."
===============================================================================
Juice reluctantly disentangled himself from Olivia and kissed her forehead. "I
gotta go, babe," he said.
"I know." She pulled the sheet up and wrapped her arm around it to hold it in
place. "It's okay. I've got a ton of homework."
He dropped down on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots, and she draped her
arms over his shoulders. She'd let the sheet fall, and he hadn't put his shirt
on yet. The feel of her warm skin against his almost sent him right back to
bed.
Instead he grabbed her wrist and brought a hand to his mouth to kiss it. "See
you tomorrow?" he said.
"Come pick me up." She kissed the curve of his ear. "I'm tired of the truck."
He grinned. "Sounds good." He groaned as she slid her hands down his chest.
"Baby, please. I'm sixteen. I can only take so much."
"What's the matter, Juicy? Thinkin' about me wearing your jacket
again? Just your jacket? With my mouth around your cock?"
Considering that's what had been happening only a little over an hour ago, the
image was still fresh in his mind. He shuddered and pulled away. "Okay," he
said. "Okay, no, for real. I'm going."
Laughing, she fell back on the bed. "Go on, love. I'll see you in the morning."
He glanced back at her from the doorway. She'd turned onto her side and had her
head propped in her hand. Her hair fell around her like a mermaid. "Love you,
Liv."
"I love you too, Juicy. Go on." She blew him a kiss. "Talk to you later."
He ducked out and headed for his bike. It wasn't quite dark yet, and the
evening was balmy and perfect. It was a ten minute ride to TM, and by the time
he got there the moon was up. He parked in his usual spot and went to look for
Chibs.
He knew he could talk to any of the guys about this, but he didn't think Olivia
would want just any of them to know. Chibs would be okay. She liked Chibs. He
always seemed to look out for her, and he was quick to speak up on her behalf
or shut someone up if they were being a jerk.
Tig was in the garage, and he pointed Juice toward the clubhouse. When he
hesitated Tig rolled his eyes and walked him over there. He pushed Juice in the
door, pointed to the bar, and walked away.
"Lad!" Chibs said when he saw him. "Get you a drink?"
Juice frowned and wandered that way. "Uh. I'm only sixteen, Chibs."
"Ach. Lager, then." He pulled a Bud Light from the fridge and set it on the
bar. Juice frowned at it a minute, shrugged, and twisted the lid. "You workin'
today, Juicy?" Chibs said as he sipped his own drink.
"Nah. I actually came lookin' for you."
"Aye? What's on your mind?"
He put the bottle down and fished in his pocket for the yearbook page. Unfolded
it and slid it across the bar. Chibs studied it a moment, then lifted a brow at
Juice.
"I appreciate the thought, lad, but I can find my own date. Also they're a
might young for me."
Juice rolled his eyes. "Last week Liv and I went to this party. Not together,
we were both just there. Anyway—these guys, the ones circled, drugged her with
something. GHB or roofies, I don't know what."
Chibs straightened and his face went hard. "What?"
"I got her away from them before anything happened, but they obviously had a
system. Didn't seem like it was the first time they'd done somethin' like
that."
"Holy shite, lad. You tryin' to tell me these little bastards are serial
rapists?"
Juice shrugged a shoulder. "All I know is what I saw, and nobody saw them drug
her. It was smooth." He paused. "It's why I'm bringin' this to you. Opie, Jax,
and I could try to go after them, but if it's all these guys we can't handle it
just the three of us. And it needs to be handled."
"Aye," he said. "I agree." He tapped a fingertip against the picture. "The lass
know you're tellin' me this?"
"Nope," Juice said with a grin. "It'd be nice if it stayed that way. Her dad
knows, though. He's the one who asked me to find out who did it, and to bring
their names to the club."
"Hm," Chibs said, his mouth quirking in amusement. "Man knows what he's about."
"Yeah," said Juice. "He does."
"Did you think of bringin' this to Unser?"
"What could Unser do? We don't have any actual proof. Like I said, no one saw
them drug her drink. She got a beer from this guy, and a few minutes later she
was stumbling around while this guy led her upstairs."
"Jesus," Chibs said, gruffly. He took the page and shoved it in a pocket inside
his cut. "I'll take it to the table. We can't have shite like this in
Charming."
"Thanks, Chibs," Juice said. "I appreciate it."
There was a brief pause while they both drank. Then, "So you and the lass made
up?"
Juice ducked his head to hide a grin. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, we're good."
"That's what I like to hear, Juicy boy. Girl like that shouldn't be alone."
"What's that mean?" he said, face scrunching.
Chibs hitched a shoulder. "Nothin', lad. Just glad you two worked it all out."
"Huh. If I didn't know any better I might think you wanted to fuck my
girlfriend." He said it like a joke, but at the way Chibs' back went stiff
Juice's eyes widened. "What the fuck, man? She's seventeen! And she's my
girlfriend!"
"Now, lad, don't get excited. She's a fine lookin' lass, that's all. I'm well
aware of her age. I'd never touch her, even if you weren't in the picture."
Juice peeled at a loose corner of his beer bottle's label. "She tell you about
our teacher?"
"Aye," Chibs said, shortly.
He nodded, and when he raised his head again his eyes were hot and dark against
Chibs'. "She doesn't need anything else like that. She says she made the
choice, and maybe she did. I just don't think she needs to be in a place to
make a choice like that again."
Chibs frowned a little. "I've no designs on your girl, Juicy."
"I know. I just wanna make sure you understand why you don't have any designs
on my girl."
Chibs had to fight the urge to laugh. This scrawny sixteen-year-old punk was
threatening him. Part of him wanted to say that if he wanted
Olivia—really wanted her—he could have her without much of a fight or fuss. But
as he watched Juice across the bar, took his measure, Chibs began to doubt how
true that was.
"I get it, lad," he said at last.
"Good," he said and pushed away from the bar. "Thanks for the beer, and for
taking care of those assholes."
"Aye, Juicy boy. It's what we do."
===============================================================================
Prom was all anyone talked about around school these days. It was in three
weeks, and tickets had gone on sale the Monday after Spring Break. It was
junior-senior, because neither class was very big, and while Juice had been
pretty thrilled to buy tickets for him and Olivia, Jax and Opie moaned and
groaned about it for an entire week before they finally broke down and forked
over the cash.
But then Tara and Olivia (and Donna, too, though her parents were willing to
buy her what she wanted) decided they didn't want to spend the money on prom
dresses, so the guys sold their tickets to sophomores for major inflation and
everyone ended up happy. They decided to do something together that night, the
six of them. Maybe drive to the beach or to Yosemite. Something fun that
wouldn't cost so much money—or involve running into TJ Flanary. He'd been
banned from prom court, but no one thought he'd skip prom altogether.
So, about a week before the big event, they were gathered at the picnic tables
outside the cafeteria. Last bell had gone about twenty minutes ago, but they
were all feeling too lazy to move. Gradually the place had emptied out around
them, and now they were virtually alone.
"The cabin?" Tara said.
Olivia threw a grape at her, and she dodged it with a glare. "What?"
"We were just there a few weeks ago."
"I don't know," Jax said. "I had a good time."
"I think we all did," Opie muttered.
"Except for the hiking," said Juice.
Olivia grinned and kissed his cheek. "Don't worry, babe. No one's gonna drag
you into the woods again."
Donna stole one of Olivia's grapes and chewed thoughtfully. "If we went to
Yosemite there'd probably be hiking."
"We've got two strikes against hiking," Jax said, because he knew Olivia wasn't
into it either.
"Three," said Tara. "Sorry, but that's not exactly how I envisioned my prom
night."
"Ditto, to be honest," Donna said.
"Okay," said Opie, "so how about the beach?"
"We could have a bonfire," Tara said.
"Marshmallows," Olivia said, pitching her voice low so only Juice could hear.
He choked a little, and Jax cast him a puzzled look. "Swallowed wrong," he said
and held up his Coke.
"I think the beach is a great idea," Olivia said. She slid off the bench and
snapped the lid on her container of grapes. "You guys decide for sure and let
me know. I've gotta get to work."
"We still on for later?" Juice said.
"I hope so." She kissed him, waved to the others, and hurried out toward the
parking lot. She paused before crossing the asphalt, ostensibly to slide her
sunglasses on, but really to check who was still around. No red BMW, she saw
with relief.
It was getting ridiculous, and she knew she needed to tell someone about it.
But she felt so fucking stupid. He hadn't said anything to her. He hadn't done
anything to her. There hadn't been any more pictures. Just…him. His car on her
street. The scent of his cologne when she opened her locker.
She didn't even feel threatened, exactly. Just watched. It was exhausting, and
whenever she rounded a corner and he wasn't there, she felt a surge of relief.
She paused a few feet from the truck and blinked. A flat? Fuck. She was going
to be late, and—oh.
No. Not a flat. Not exactly. Her head fall back and she let out a harsh,
strained laugh. Part of her wanted to turn around and grab Juice and Jax and
Opie and send them after TJ's worthless ass, but she knew that was pointless
and stupid. Instead she trudged back inside and asked to use the office phone.
She drummed her fingers against the counter a moment before she dialed the
garage; no point in calling her dad first. Or at all, if she could help it.
Gemma answered, and she promised she'd get a truck out to the school as soon as
possible. She asked if one of the guys could give her a ride, but Olivia said
she'd rather wait. Gemma understood, luckily, and so Olivia hopped up into the
cab, rolled down the window…and waited.
It was only about fifteen minutes before the TM tow appeared. She waved the
driver down, and as it got closer she saw it was Chibs. Great. She'd sort of
been avoiding him since that weird day in the garage last month, but that was
probably dumb anyway. She sighed and slumped back against the door, and when he
hopped out his expression was inscrutable behind his sunglasses.
"Lass," he said.
"Heya, Chibs."
"Gem said you're in need of a tow."
She jerked her thumb to indicate the truck's tires, and he let out a low
whistle as he studied them.
"All four, aye?"
"Yup."
"Any suspects?"
"Nope."
He tugged his glasses off and studied her. "Nobody likes a liar, darlin'."
"I don't know," she said. "We elect them to public office all the time."
He barked out an appreciative laugh. "Aye, true enough. Well. Let's get on with
it, shall we?"
She hopped up into the tow's bed to grab the chains and Chibs got them hooked
on. "Y'know, if he'd been smart he would only've slashed three of them," he
said, conversationally.
She made a face. "How the fuck would that've helped me?"
"Wouldn't. But insurance pays for four, not three."
"Great, Chibs. I'll be sure to write a note for next time."
Ugh. She couldn't avoid telling her dad about this, because they couldn't
really afford new tires. It would mean an insurance claim and a bunch of
bullshit. He'd know it was TJ, no matter what she tried to tell him, and she
would have to confess about the weird gifts and seeing him around everywhere.
He was going to fucking flip.
Chibs was bent over near the truck's fender as he got it hooked into place, but
after a moment he straightened. "What the fuck is that smell, darlin'?"
"What smell?"
He recognized it, but if she hadn't noticed he wasn't sure he wanted to bring
it to her attention. "Nothin'," he said. "I think I might've hit somethin' on
the way over. Stinkin' up the truck."
"That's gross, Chibs."
"Aye, well." He waved toward the tow truck's cab. "Go sit in there and wait,
Ollie girl. Won't be much longer."
She started to protest, but after a moment she just shrugged and did as he
said. He waited until she had the door closed, her back to him, before he
reached into the pickup's wheel well. His fingers brushed fur, stiff and
sticky, and his face scrunched in disgust as he pulled it free.
A ginger cat. He knew Olivia didn't have one, so that was a relief, but still.
The poor thing's throat had been slit, maybe with the same thing her admirer
had used to slash the pickup's tires. Frowning, he fetched a towel from the bed
of the tow truck and wrapped it up before he stowed it away. He'd take it out
somewhere to bury it, sad wee thing, and he'd quietly let Juice know.
Chibs wasn't stupid. He knew things didn't usually escalate straight from
photographs to dead household pets and slashed tires. Whatever was happening
she'd been dealing with it for a while, and no doubt keeping it to herself. He
grunted. Typical Ollie.
Enough of that, he thought. It was time she did a little talking.
***** Alone *****
Chapter Summary
     Olivia asks for some lessons in self defense.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                                scared are you?
                             you do it on your own
                              you do it all alone
                                  we all did
                                scared are you?
                        half the lines we make up dear
                           the best that you can do
                      Better Than Ezra, "Scared Are You?"
It was her dad's day off, so as soon as they got back to TM she called him. She
didn't tell him what was going on, just that there was an issue with the truck
and she needed him to come down to the shop.
When he got there he was less than pleased.
"All four of them," he said, a flat, disbelieving statement.
"Yes…but if it makes you feel any better, Chibs said if he hadn't done them all
the insurance wouldn't pay."
He bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingertips.
"That's a comfort, Ollie, thank you."
"Daddy, come on. This isn't my fault."
He sighed. "I know it's not, pumpkin." He paused to study her. "You know who
did it?"
"Not a super long list of suspects." She yanked open the passenger door and
rifled through the glove compartment. She'd put the "gifts" in baggies, and now
she set them out for him to see. "I threw the chocolates out, but…these tacks.
Each piece had a tack in it."
"Olivia—"
"I know. I know I should've told you."
His face was hard and stern as he looked at her. "Olivia Jameson, this is more
than just keeping something from me. This is dangerous. You could've been
hurt."
She rarely heard that tone from him, and it made her squirm. "I know, Daddy.
I'm sorry. I just didn't want to worry you."
"So now he's slashed your tires. That's vandalism. You can call Unser about
this."
Biting her lip, she looked away. "Dad—"
"No. No arguments. I think Gemma will understand if you have to miss work
today, Olivia. Go sit in the car and wait. I'll be there as soon as I talk to
Chibs."
Her mouth fell open, but she recognized the look. She had no wiggle room here.
Finally she nodded and slunk away, her hands in her pockets and her head down.
Chibs had been keeping his distance, but once she was out of earshot he moved
closer. "Somethin' else you should know," he said. He motioned for James to
follow him, and carefully pulled back the towel shrouding the cat.
"What the—? What the fuck is this?"
"It was in the wheel well of the truck. Neck's cut. Notice the color, aye?"
"Yeah," James said, grimly. He scrubbed a hand down his face. "Jesus. We gotta
call the cops."
Chibs grunted and hid the cat again. "Up to you, of course, but they won't be
able to do much of anything. No proof who it is, and I'm sure that little
shite's got twenty kids eager and willin' to lie about his whereabouts today."
"So what the fuck do I do? I gotta protect my little girl."
Chibs clapped a hand on James' shoulder and squeezed. "You let us take care of
it."
"The club? No. I can't ask you to do that. Teddy Flanary is a powerful man in
this town. It's too risky." He hesitated. Frowned. "Besides, you're already
dealing with that other thing. Or so Juice told me."
"Aye," he said, slowly. "But that's just good business. Can't have shite like
that goin' on in our town." He gestured toward the dead cat. "This, either."
"Olivia seems to think Ana Ortiz was let go at the mill because of what Juice
did to TJ."
Chibs grunted. "Punchin' him, you mean? Aye, maybe." He let out a hard sigh.
"How about this. We've got a new prospect. Good kid, from what I can tell, and
real eager to please. I could put him on Ollie. Have him keep an eye on her
when she's not at school or here."
"Follow her, you mean?"
He spread his hands in a shrug. "You want to tell her, go ahead. You're her da.
But…"
"Yeah. Not really an argument I'm looking to have, either."
"Up to you," said Chibs. "I know Juicy sticks pretty close to her."
"He's a sixteen-year-old kid."
"Aye, well, so's the one harassing her."
James frowned and looked away. "She says he hasn't made a move. Just the weird
gifts, now the poor cat and the tires. I worry it's escalating. Violence
against an animal? That's…a step beyond."
"Let me talk to the prospect. Lad's name's Jimmy." He pointed across the lot to
a tall gangly kid, maybe twenty-two, with slicked back black hair and a
scraggly goatee. "Don't look like much, but he's been good so far."
"Yeah, all right," James said at last. "She'll notice him, though. She's not
stupid. I'll talk to her about it tonight, tell her what's going on. Don't want
her to think your prospect is a friend of TJ's."
"Aye," Chibs said with a grin. "Probably best. I'll send him 'round tomorrow."
"Great, Chibs." James held out his hand and Chibs shook it. "Thanks. And thanks
for taking care of the truck, too."
"It's what we do. Ollie's a good lass. Works hard. We take care of our own
here, and that includes you. You matter to Ollie, you matter to us."
===============================================================================
Olivia wasn't happy about it, but she knew she didn't really have room to
argue. So she had an entourage now. Or could you really call it an entourage
when there was only one guy? She wasn't sure, but she hadn't stopped bitching
about it all week.
Jimmy wasn't that bad, and she wasn't really all that pissed about it, but it
was the issue of the thing. Her dad knew her well enough to get it, so he just
rolled his eyes and ignored her complaints. It was pointless, of course, but
she had to make sure he realized how annoyed she was.
She'd at least negotiated with him so that when she was with Juice he wasn't
around. She didn't need a chaperone on her dates (though she kinda thought her
dad considered that a sort of bonus feature), and after she explained it to
Jimmy—and got Juice to talk to him—he finally backed off.
It had been three days since the truck incident, and prom was right around the
corner. They still hadn't quite decided what they were going to do, but
Olivia's dad had lifted her curfew for the night. When she told him, Juice had
gone sort of glassy-eyed and she still didn't know what he had in his head.
Olivia had a shift at TM after school, and she'd been cooking an idea since
discovering the slashed tires. Tig was on that day, and it didn't really suit
her, but she knew when it came down to it he was mostly harmless. To her. Not
to…the world in general. She wasn't stupid.
It was a quiet night, and as they were closing up she figured she might as well
just ask him. She wiped the counter down four or five times even though it
didn't really need it. Rearranged the wrenches in the tool chest. And finally
took a deep breath and dove in.
"Hey, Tiggy, can I ask you something?"
"Sure, darlin'. You need me to buy you some alcohol? You need weed?"
She made a face. "I've got a fake ID. And—no, not weed either. No, listen. Did
Chibs tell you about the truck?"
"Your dad's truck? Yeah, he mentioned it. Said the new prospect was gonna be
followin' you around, keepin' an eye out."
"Yeah. He's very keen."
Tig smirked. "I would be too, if it were my job."
She rolled her eyes and spun away. "Maybe I should ask somebody else."
"Wait, come on, I was just kidding."
She paused and turned back, her green eyes stormy. "You know I can take a joke,
Tig."
"Yeah, usually."
Hooking her thumbs on her back pockets, she shrugged and looked away. "That's
not really the kinda joke I'm in the mood to take these days. Too many people
think they can talk about me and joke about me and look at me. Get it?"
He studied her. "You know you need me to knock some heads together, you just
gotta say the word."
Her mouth quirked. "Funny you should say that. I don't want you to knock any
heads together, but I was hoping you could teach me how to. I mean, I know I'm
small, but I'm strong for my size, and I get pissed off pretty easy."
"You're a firecracker," he said with a grin.
She shook her head. "Careful, Tiggy. I'm not afraid to ask Chibs instead."
"Aw, sweetheart, why you gotta be that way? You want me to teach you some
moves, I'll teach you. I'm a very good teacher."
His tone made her lift a brow at him. She wondered if he'd heard about her and
Ben…but unlike with Chibs, she wasn't about to ask. "Thanks, Tig. I appreciate
it."
"You got time now?"
"That's what I was thinking, yeah."
He nodded. "Get finished up here. I'll be right back."
"Where—?" But he was already gone, out the door toward the clubhouse like a
shot. She sighed. At least they'd been almost done anyway. She swept the floor
and was just stowing the broom when he reappeared.
"Well," she said with a half-smile. "Thought you might not come back."
"I had to go get something." He brandished a set of brass knuckles and she
blinked at him. "Wait." A flick of his wrist and a six-inch blade popped out.
"Ooo."
"That's what all the girls say," he said, smirking.
"If you can't behave, Trager—"
"All right, all right, sorry." He folded the knife and handed it to her. "See
how it feels. With the handle like that you don't even gotta use the blade
unless shit gets real bad."
She wove her fingers through the grip and flexed around it. "Yeah, that's
good."
"Little loose," he said with a frown. "You got small hands."
"I'm a seventeen-year-old girl and this is a knife made for a grown man. So
yeah. I've got small hands."
He forced his mind to go blank, and if she saw any of what he was thinking on
his face she didn't comment. "Uh, okay." He circled behind her and showed her
how to tuck her thumb so she didn't break it if she had to punch somebody.
"You're gonna wanna put your weight behind it. All your weight, because you're
fuckin' miniature."
She snorted and glared up at him. He moved his head in a sort of shrug and
closed his hand around her elbow.
"Twist like that, and make sure you follow through. That's how you get real
impact. If you were boxing I'd say be up on your toes, but you gotta plant your
feet to really hit somebody the way you mean. Bring it from here," he said and
pressed his palm against her middle.
"Okay."
"Any questions?"
"Just one, I think." She paused. Cast a look over her shoulder. "Do you
fucking bathe in Old Spice?"
"Funny. Just try the damn punch, you fuckin' brat."
She did what he said: twist, follow through, move from her core, but he let out
a noise of distress. "No. Look." He grabbed her bicep and squeezed. "Tighten up
here." Her shoulder. "Here, too. You want good movement, kinda fluid, but if
your muscles aren't hard you aren't gonna get anywhere."
"I bet all the girls say that, too," she said.
"I'm tryin' to figure out why I agreed to do this."
She ignored him. "I need something to punch. How'm I supposed to know if I'm
just swinging at thin air?"
"Could take you over to the clubhouse. Got a weight room over there. Punching
bag and shit."
"Great," she said. "Let's go."
He hesitated, but after a moment he nodded. "Yeah, okay. After you."
She knew he was checking out her ass as she walked away, but he was Tig. It was
expected. Honestly she might take him to the hospital if he didn't check out
her ass. She put a little swing in her step just to give him a show (she had to
thank him for helping her somehow), and at one point he almost tripped over his
feet.
Happy was already in the weight room when they got there. He was Nomad, and not
around that much, but Olivia knew him to say hello. He kind of freaked her out
a little, but when he heard what they were doing he was quick to volunteer to
help. She felt bad telling him no, and then Chibs appeared and suddenly she had
three teachers.
"Okay, this's boring," Tig said about twenty minutes later. "You really wanna
know how to hit somebody, you actually gotta hit somebody."
"With brass knuckles?" she said.
"Yeah, it's good. I can take it."
"Aye, lassie. Tig knows how to take a poundin'."
She rolled her eyes at him while Happy snorted and choked.
"Fine," she said.
"Wait, hang on. How tall is the person you might be punching?" Tig said.
"Um." She held up her hand. "About there, I guess."
Tig spread his legs until his head was level with her palm. "Okay. Do it. Don't
hold back, either."
She cast a questioning glance back at Chibs, but he just shrugged. A quick look
at Happy, who nodded as he didn't bother to suppress a delighted grin.
She was a quick study (she'd taken ballet until the year before her mom died),
and, like she said, stronger than she looked. With a deep breath, she pulled
her arm back and let fly, just like they'd taught her. She put her weight
behind it, and the second her fist hit his face she knew she'd done damage.
There was a crack and his head fell back. He staggered, and if Happy hadn't
been there he might've gone down.
"Jesus fuck holy cuntfucker ream me in the ass what the fuck?"
"Holy shit," she said.
Behind her Chibs doubled over and howled. Happy's laughter was silent, and his
entire body shook with it. Olivia flexed her hand around the knuckles and
winced.
"You okay, Tiggy?" she said. "Oh my God you're bleeding! Shit, I'm so sorry.
You told me not to pull it, and so I didn't but I never meant—"
"Lass, lass," Chibs said between gasps, "don't apologize to him. It's his own
fault. You're bleedin', you fecking idiot."
"Quit laughing, you assholes! She hit me real fuckin' hard!"
"You told me to!"
"Somebody go save the security footage of this shit," Happy said.
"Oh my God," Olivia said again. "I'm going home."
"Wait, Ollie, come on," Tig said. "It's okay. I'm fine. You didn't break
anything."
"Next time I'll be sure to hit you harder," she snapped.
The door slammed behind her and they all stood in silence a minute.
"Well," said Tig. "Clearly I am one hell of a teacher."
"One hell of a moron," Happy said. "Come on. Let's go get you some ice for your
nose. We can tell everybody how the little girl punched you in the face."
"She's a lot stronger than she looks," he grumbled. "And she had the knuckles."
"Uh huh. Keep tellin' yourself that, Tiggy," Happy said.
Chibs followed them toward the kitchen, laughing at their banter, but he peeled
away and headed toward the lot. She probably hadn't left yet, and he wanted to
check in with her.
"Lass!" he called as he jogged toward the truck.
She stopped with her fingers on the door handle and turned toward him. Her
expression was annoyed, and for a moment he hesitated. She let out an
exasperated sigh and waved him closer.
"What? I didn't mean to hit him that hard."
"Nah, darlin', you did great. His own stupid fault for askin' you to hit him at
all." He pulled out his cigarettes, but as her scowl deepened he frowned and
tucked them away again. "I just wanted to make sure you're all right."
"I'm fine." A brief pause while she chewed her lower lip. "Thanks for helping,
and thank Tig for me too. Hope I won't really have to use it again, though."
"You worried about…ah, whoever slashed your tires?"
"TJ Flanary. It's okay; you can say his name." She hitched a shoulder. "I don't
know. I'd like to think he's harmless, but it's better to be prepared."
"Aye," he said. Then, "Keep that knife on you, lass. Try not to use the blade
if you don't have to."
"I wasn't really interested in stabbing anyone, Chibs."
His head tilted in acknowledgment. "Still. Take care. And you know if you need
anything, we're here."
"Do me a favor, Chibby."
"Aye, Ollie girl. Anything."
She smiled, but it was more like a baring of teeth. "Go ask Tiggy's nose how
well I can take care of myself."
===============================================================================
When she got home Juice's bike was parked in front of her house, and he sat on
the porch steps waiting for her. He smiled when he saw her, and she had to grin
back. He rose as she got closer, still on the bottom step; she lifted to her
tiptoes to kiss him.
"Hey, love. Been here long?"
"Nah. Ten minutes or so. I thought you'd be home."
"Oh." She sighed and unlocked the door to let them in. "I stayed a little late
at work."
"Where's Jimmy?"
"I think he has the night off. I left sort of…well."
He followed her into the kitchen and they made some grilled cheese sandwiches
as she told him what had happened at TM.
"You punched Tig in the face?"
"He asked me to."
"Did you break his nose?"
She shook her head and grabbed drinks from the fridge. "I don't think so. He
was bleeding, but it's actually a lot harder to break a nose than people
think."
"Man," he said, shaking his head wonderingly. "I really hope Hap gets that
security footage."
Frowning, she picked at her sandwich. "It was sort of an accident. I guess they
taught me pretty well."
"Can I see the knife?"
She tilted to reach in her back pocket before she handed it across the table to
him. He laced his fingers through the grip and grinned.
"This's sweet." He flicked his wrist and the blade popped out. "Wow. Tig just
gave this to you?"
"Yeah, I guess so. I mean, Chibs told me to keep it close, so I assumed that
meant it was mine to keep."
He stowed the blade and gave it back to her. "I hope you don't ever need it,
but I'm glad you have it."
They were quiet for a time while they ate, and she could tell Juice had
something on his mind. She waited him out. Finally, after he polished off his
third sandwich, he took a long pull of Coke and smiled at her. She lifted a
brow.
"What's up?"
"Um, it's about tomorrow. Prom night."
Her mouth quirked. "I know what tomorrow is, silly."
"Right," he said. "So I was kinda thinking…since your dad lifted your curfew,
we can…we could, if you wanted, maybe get a nice room somewhere…? And, like…"
He trailed off with a blush.
"Spend the night together?"
"Well, yeah. I know we have before, on the camping trip, but that was before."
She reached for his hand and squeezed. "I think that's a great idea. Do you
still want to go with everybody else?"
"I don't know. I don't wanna bail on them completely."
"Me neither. So we could hang with them for a little while, then go do our own
thing?"
"Yeah. I think Ope might be plannin' something like that with Donna. I guess
her parents are finally loosening up a little."
Olivia made a face and collected their plates. "I don't know if they'll ever
really approve, but honestly I think that has way more to do with Piney than
Opie. Opie's great."
"You know, if we ever break up—"
"What?"
"Not that it's gonna happen, but if we did, I hope we could still be friends
like you and Ope."
She blinked at him. "I don't know," she said. "Maybe. It'd be a lot harder.
Opie and I never…"
"Never what?"
"Loved each other. Not like we do."
"Oh," he said, grinning. "Yeah, I guess that's true."
She took his face in her hands and kissed him. "Algebra homework?"
"Ugh."
"I know. Me too."
"Naked algebra homework?" he said, hopefully.
"Not sure we'd get a ton of work done."
"I think it might be worth it."
She smirked and kissed him again. "Do you always think with your penis, Ortiz?"
"Nah, of course not," he said. "It just happens more often when I'm around
you."
"Hhhmm." Her arms went around his neck and he pressed his hands to her waist.
He dipped his head to nip at her lips. "I think maybe I could be talked into
naked algebra homework."
"I figured." His grin turned wicked. "How about you sit at the desk and work on
the math, and I…eat your pussy."
"How am I supposed to concentrate on algebra while that's going on?" she said,
laughing.
"Let's see how long you can concentrate." He poked her. "C'mon. It'll be fun."
"All right," she said. "And after we switch, and we'll see how long you can
concentrate while I have your cock in my mouth."
"Like five minutes. Max."
"Wimp." She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the bedroom. "C'mon," she
said, teasing him. "It'll be fun."
Chapter End Notes
     *pants* Sorry this update took so long, kids. It almost killed me.
     To answer a question: Olivia is the oldest of their group because her
     birthday is in October. She's 17, and at this point (late April), so
     is Tara (January birthday), Opie (Feb), and Jax (early April). Donna
     and Juice are still 16, because Donna's birthday is in early May and
     Juice's is in July. How do I know all these birthdays? Well, friends,
     I made them the fuck up. Also, TJ's actually 18 (he's a senior, and
     he's already had his 18th birthday), and Chibs is just making a point
     when he says he's 16.
***** Killer Inside *****
Chapter Summary
     Olivia and Juice enjoy their anti-prom.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
               well she believes that time can make things right
            and i want to believe that there's been a change in me
                     Better Than Ezra, "The Killer Inside"
They were kissing as they pushed their way into the room. His hands were
everywhere: up her skirt, along her back, down over her ass. He boosted her up
so that her legs were wrapped around him and shoved the door shut with his
shoulder. He stumbled toward the bed, but when he would've dropped her on to
it, she curled her fingers in his shirt and pulled him down with her. His bag
fell to the floor next to him, but he just kicked it aside.
She giggled at the look on his face. He dipped his head to run his tongue up
the side of her neck, and her laugh morphed into a gasp.
"You taste so good, Livvie," he mumbled against her skin.
"Take your clothes off, Ortiz. I need to get my hands on you."
He lifted his head, his face creased in a grin. "So demanding. And handsy."
"You mind? Because if you do we could just order some pizza and watch movies
all night." She flipped onto her stomach and reached for the phone, but he
grabbed her waist and dragged her back.
"Nuh uh." He pressed on top of her, his erection big against her ass, and she
wiggled. His tongue traced the curve of her ear. "Tell me what you want, baby.
I wanna make you feel so good."
He lifted a little so she could flip over, and her smile was thoughtful. "How
about you tell me what you want?" She traced her fingertips along his jaw and
booped his nose. "You be in charge tonight. After all, this was all your idea,"
she said with a gesture at the hotel room.
"Really?" he said on a breath.
"Yeah." She grinned and kissed him. "Really."
He rolled onto his back next to her and waved a hand. "Guess that means you're
takin' your clothes off, Gable."
She made a soft noise and hopped to her feet. "I'll need you to unzip me," she
said, her voice low and sweet. She turned her back, and he sat up and pulled
her closer by the hips.
Part of the whole point of their anti-prom was to avoid spending the money on a
fancy gown, but she had dressed up a little. She wore a figure-hugging black
dress, knee length, and as he tugged the zipper down his breath caught.
Underneath: black lace bra and matching panties.
He kissed each bit of pale skin as the zipper revealed it, then pushed the
dress down her legs to the floor. Nipped the curve of her hip and ran both
hands over her thighs.
"Turn around," he murmured, his voice husky.
She pivoted slowly and carded her fingers through his hair. "Need me to help
you with your clothes, love?"
"Not yet," he said. He shook his head and stroked a palm over the holster
around her thigh. "Plannin' to stab somebody tonight, sweetheart?"
"God I hope not," she said. She undid the velcro and set the knife on the
nightstand. "Better safe than sorry, though."
"True." He hooked a finger under the edge of her panties and tugged. "Take
these off."
The scrap of lace slithered down her legs and she kicked it away. He slid two
fingers between her thighs and rubbed across her lips. Her head fell back on a
quiet breath. He dropped to his knees in front of her and pulled her leg over
his shoulder. His mouth was soft and warm on the inside of her thigh, and she
couldn't suppress a shiver.
"Juicy, babe, I'm supposed to be making you feel good."
"You are," he rasped. He pressed his lips against her and flicked his tongue
across her clit. He rubbed over it, swirling and licking, and her fingers
tangled in his short hair.
"Juan Carlos!" she gasped. "That's so good!"
He nipped at her labia, his lips soft and his teeth sharp. She shuddered
against him, her breath coming in tiny pants, and he circled his tongue around
and around her clit until she was grinding against his face.
He let out a rough sound of pleasure and sucked the slick little nub into his
mouth. He lashed his tongue across it; scraped it just a little with his teeth;
sucked and licked until she was nearly incoherent, her body vibrating and the
muscles in her legs twitching beneath his palms.
"Not yet," he said again as he pulled away. She whimpered in protest, and he
bit the inside of her thigh. "You wanna come, Livvie?"
"You know I do, Juicy," she whispered.
"You like the way I lick your pussy?" He trailed his tongue along her slit,
avoiding her aching clit, and grinned at the desperate little noise she made.
"I love it, baby. I love it so damn much."
"Mmmm." He spread her open and flicked the tip of his tongue against her clit.
"You know who this sweet pussy belongs to, don't you? No matter what happens.
It's mine."
She shuddered, her fingers going tight against his scalp. He took one of her
lips between his teeth and bit down, gently, before he sucked.
"You're mine, Olivia," he said. "Say it."
"I'm yours!" she cried. "I'm yours, Juicy."
He growled and thrust two fingers into her. Pressed his fingertips against her
G-spot and sucked hard on her clit. She moaned and rocked against him. He
swirled his tongue all over it, and the sensitive skin around it.
"That's it, baby, oh God yeah that's so good!"
He didn't let up, twisting his fingers as he fucked her with them, and it was
no time at all before she tensed around him. She gasped his name and he lashed
her with his tongue; used his free hand to hold her steady as her body went
taut and her back arched.
"Yes, Juicy, yeah oh my God don't stop, don't stop!"
The orgasm went on and on, and as it finally started to pass he made his tongue
soft and lapped gently, from the fingers buried inside her to her clit and back
down again. She melted against him, limp and boneless, and he eased her down
onto his lap. They kissed for a long time, and she licked the taste of her off
his lips.
"I love you," she murmured.
"I love you too, babe." He kissed her temple and stroked her hair back off her
forehead. "Am I yours?" he said.
Her first instinct was to laugh—what a question—but at the tone of his voice
and the look in his eyes, all tender and worried and hopeful, she resisted the
urge. Instead she kissed him again, nipping at his lips and running her tongue
across his mouth, and when she pulled away she was smiling.
"Yeah, Juan Carlos. You're mine. Let's keep it that way, okay?"
He grinned, his eyes crinkling a little. "Yeah, Liv. Absolutely."
"You're still dressed," she said with a frown.
"Hhmm," he said. He lifted her to her feet and pressed his mouth to the inside
of her knee. Stood up and pulled her close again. "Wanna help me with that?"
"I don't know, baby. Is it a question or a request?"
"More a very strong suggestion," he said with a smirk.
She shivered. "I did tell you you're in charge." She unbuttoned his shirt and
ran her tongue along his collarbone. Pushed the shirt off his shoulders and
unfastened his pants. She slid her hand into his shorts to find him hot and
hard.
"You want me, Juicy?" she said as she nibbled his neck.
"You know I do."
She pulled away, smiling a little, but something in her eyes was…unsure. Sad,
even. "You're a very patient person," she said.
His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"I've put you through a lot. A lot of ups and downs. You didn't have to stick
it out."
"Yeah I did," he said, mouth quirking. At her expression his smile deepened. "I
don't always get it either. Fuck, I never get it. All I know is from the first
time I saw you I wanted to know you better. So I could either play it by your
rules and have a chance, or try to make you do what I wanted and blow the whole
fucking thing. I'm not an asshole."
"No," she said. She pushed him back onto the bed, her touch gentle but firm.
"No, you're definitely not an asshole."
He grasped her hips and pulled her down with him as he fell, and they landed
together in a tangle. They went still, his hands cupping her face and their
noses brushing. He rubbed his against hers and her mouth curved.
"I love you," she said in a soft, wondering sort of voice.
"I know," he said, smugly.
"Jerk."
"Yup. But not an asshole."
She laughed and then they were kissing again. He slid his palms down her back
to unhook her bra, and she wiggled against him. Fingers warm and rough on her
nipple made her moan.
"Juicy," she panted. "Juicy, want you so much!"
"Turn over," he whispered. He scooted down so that he was behind her, and
lifted her up by her hips. Ran a hand over her ass and gave it a light tap with
the flat of his palm.
She drew in a sharp breath and cut a look at him over her shoulder. "What are
you up to, Juice Ortiz?"
His expression turned shy. "You said…you said I could do what I want, right?"
"I did."
"I'm not gonna hurt you."
"I know. I just like to know what's on your mind."
"Don't move." He hopped off the bed and cast around for the bag. She couldn't
really see him from her current position, on her knees with her ass in the air,
but she couldn't imagine what else he would be doing. He'd been cagey about the
bag's contents all night, and she had to admit she was curious.
"Um, actually. Sit down, I guess."
She grinned and flipped over onto her back. He sat next to her and unzipped the
bag. Dug around a sec before he produced a box of condoms and a bottle of lube.
Her eyes went wide as he flashed her an uncertain smile.
Taking the bottle from him, she studied it a moment before a wicked grin curved
her mouth. "Are you asking what I think you are?"
He ducked his head, but she hooked a finger under his chin and made him look
her in the eye. "Can we?" he finally said.
She slid up into his lap and kissed him, hard and hot. "Yeah, Ortiz," she
murmured against his mouth. "We totally can."
"I'll go slow," he said between kisses, "and if you wanna stop just tell me."
She pushed away and turned over again, lifting up onto her knees and casting a
look back at him. "Please, baby." Her voice was high and breathless. "Please!"
He groaned and yanked her back toward him. Pressed a line of fervent kisses
over the curve of her ass. She squirmed, but he stilled her with a nip of his
teeth. He spread her open and licked down, across her hole and to her dripping
pussy, then back up again.
Her breath hitched and caught, and he grinned as he circled his tongue and
pressed it against her.
"That's good, Juicy," she said. "So good."
He kissed his way up her side until he was stretched out next to her, and she
smiled at him and straddled his hips. Leaned down to kiss him long and slow
while he pumped some lube into his hand and rubbed a slick fingertip over her
hole. He lifted his brows in a question, and she gave a fervent nod.
"Please," she breathed.
Every time she said it was like a shock to his system, and with a little groan
he eased his finger into her. Deeper when she whimpered, and then he held it
still.
"Okay, Livvie?" he murmured.
She nodded. "Yeah, love. Don't stop." She reached for the box of condoms and
fished one out. Ripped the wrapper and rolled it down his erection. Her eyes
were big and bright on his as she lifted up and slid down onto him.
"Liv!" he groaned, bucking against her. She was hot and wet and slick and she
felt incredible. He thrust his finger in deeper, all the way, and she wiggled
against him.
"Love that," she moaned. "Feels so damn good."
"We could just do this," he said. "Just like this." He pulled his finger out
and added a second one, twisting them together and easing them in while she
panted. He sat up and yanked her even closer. Her legs wrapped around him and
he nipped at her throat as her head fell back.
"Whatever you want, baby," she said. "Anything you want. Just don't stop.
Please don't stop!"
They had plenty of time, all the time in the world, and right now he couldn't
imagine anything better than this. He tangled his free hand in her hair and
kissed her. She moved on top of him, harder and faster, and they swallowed each
other's moans.
"That's it, Livvie, that's right. Fuck don't stop, don't stop!"
He moved his hand in counter-rhythm and rained rough, sucking kisses along her
neck and the curve of her shoulder. His cock dragged against her clit with
every thrust and her nails dug into his back.
She panted his name in a desperate keen and he felt her go tight around him.
Her cunt clenched his cock and her ass squeezed his fingers and he thought he
might die from how good it felt. He bucked into her, groaning, and she let out
a soft cry as the orgasm gripped her.
"Juicy! Yes, love, yes fuck that's good yes!"
He came with her, hard enough to make his head swim, and as his cock jerked
inside her he chanted garbled words of love and affection and held her tight
against him.
When they finally started to come down from it he eased his fingers out of her
and wiped them on the sheet. Her forehead fell to rest against the curve of his
neck and he trailed his hands through her hair. They were breathless and
sweating, and she trembled in his arms. He pulled away just enough to get rid
of the condom, tying off the end and tossing it in the trash, before he was
back.
She was still shaking. He soothed her with whispered words and pressed his
mouth to her temple. "Baby, what is it? What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she said, but he could feel her tears against his skin. He didn't
say anything, and finally she shook her head. "It's just sex."
"What?" He cupped her face and leaned away so that he could see her.
"It's just sex, Juice. Fucking. I don't understand why—why is it so different
with you? Why does it feel different when you touch me? I just…shouldn't it
be…kind of the same?"
"The same no matter who you're with?" he said, brow furrowing.
She hitched a shoulder. "I don't know. Maybe. I mean, obviously some people are
better at it than others, but still."
"You said it's always been different with me," he said after a moment.
"It has. From the first time you touched me. Before, even."
He grinned. "I wasn't that great at it when we started, so that can't be it."
She poked him in the shoulder. "Who says you're so great at it now?"
"Ohhhh," he said. "I see. How many times've I made you come tonight?"
"Twice," she said, fighting a smile.
"Uh huh. And it's not even midnight yet." He held onto her as he flipped them
over, and she let out a little shriek of laughter. He kissed her, nipping at
her lips, and slid his hands down her body. His expression turned serious.
"I don't know, Livvie," he said. "I've never been with anyone like you,
either."
She frowned. "So what do we do about it?"
"Do? Why do we need to do anything?"
"I don't know. Shouldn't we?"
His head tilted as he considered. "What do you want to do? We could take out an
ad in the yearbook: Juice Ortiz and Olivia Gable have amazing sex!"
"You're a dork," she said with a snort.
"Yeah, but I'm your dork," he said, grinning.
"That's true." She kissed him softly and he stretched out next to her, pulling
her snug against him. Their fingers tangled together. "It's going to be okay
though. Right?"
He wasn't really sure what she was asking, but it almost didn't matter. He had
faith in her, even if she didn't have any faith in herself.
"Yeah, Liv," he said and tugged a lock of her hair. "It's gonna be great."
===============================================================================
Juice stirred as Olivia sat up and began to dig around for her clothes.
"Babe, what?"
"I'm going to get ice. I'm thirsty."
He smirked. "Wonder why."
Laughing, she pushed him back on the bed and kissed him. "Hush. No gloating,
Ortiz."
"Hey, I deserve to gloat!" he said with a grin. "You said I wasn't good at it!"
"I didn't, not exactly. And besides, I was joking." She bit his lower lip and
sucked. "You're very good at it, baby. You know that." He didn't say anything.
She sat back with a frown. "You do know that, right?"
His hands fell to rest on her hips and he shrugged a little. "I mean, yeah. I
guess so. It seems like it."
Her nose scrunched. She took his face in her hands and her eyes were steady on
his. "Juice, listen. Do you know why I started this whole thing in the first
place?"
"Not really. Sort of, I guess. You wanted good sex."
She sat back, a frown between her brows. "Juice—"
"That maybe came out wrong," he conceded with a grimace.
"Juice. I wanted you. I wanted you but I couldn't just…say that. Not after
everything." She took a deep breath. "It's true I never planned to fall for
you, but I wouldn't do this with just anyone. I wouldn't bother. That sounds
arrogant. I just mean—"
"No," he said. "I get it. You thought I was worth your time."
"That sounds arrogant, too."
"I didn't mean it that way."
She ran her fingers through his hair. "However it might've started, you know
how I feel now, right? You know why I'm here now?"
He grinned. "Because you realized I'm irresistible."
"Ortiz!"
He flipped them over and held her down; nuzzled her neck and kissed the line
between her brows. She laughed and wrapped her legs around him, and her eyes
went wide.
"Again?" she said.
"It can wait." He sobered, and the look in his eyes was deep and intense.
"Olivia, I know. I knew then, and I know now. You don't gotta explain it to
me."
"I just don't want you to think—"
"Shh," he murmured. "I don't. I never did. You're stubborn as hell, and
sometimes it's easier just to play along. I knew you'd come around eventually."
She wanted to be offended, but she couldn't summon the energy. Instead she just
smiled and shoved him off her. "Go get ice. Put some on your dick."
"I might need it after tonight." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Be right
back." He found his pants and shorts and tugged them on, and at her look he
tossed her panties to her. She grinned and blew him a kiss.
"I'm gonna turn down the flippy thing," he said.
"Sure. I'll be here when you get back."
"You better be," he said.
"Not goin' anywhere, love."
He grabbed the ice bucket and headed toward the hall. When the door shut behind
him she wiggled into her underwear and went to the bathroom to pour a glass of
water. She paused to run a brush through her hair, and outside she heard the
door open and shut again.
"That was quick," she said as she emerged from the bathroom. "I thought the ice
machine—" She froze and took a step back. "What the fuck?" she managed through
lips gone numb.
"That's not a very nice way to greet me, Olivia," TJ said. He smiled, cold and
hard. "Your boyfriend should've locked the door behind him."
Her heart pounded, but she tried to keep her expression calm. She inched toward
the bathroom door. "He'll be right back. He just went to get ice."
"Oh I know," he said. "I'm counting on it." He paused. "Why don't you come
here, sweetheart?"
"I'm good where I am. Thanks, though."
He eyed her up and down, lingering on her breasts with a little leer. "So
you'll put out for that spic Mill trash but not me. Such a whore, Olivia."
Her teeth flashed in a humorless smile. "Maybe I put out for him because he
never thought to call me a whore."
He surged toward her and she fell back. The doorknob dug into her spine. She
thought he was going to hit her, but he didn't. Instead he did something she
hadn't been expecting at all: he reached behind him and pulled out a gun.
"TJ," she said, her voice going calm and smooth, "TJ, what are you doing with a
gun? There's no need for anything like that. Let's just—let's just talk. You
and me. You can lock the door if you want so that Juice can't get back in. I'll
just…" She angled her body toward the bed and suddenly the gun was in her face.
She lifted her hands. "I'll just put some clothes on and we'll talk. Okay, TJ?"
"Shut up," he said. "Sit on the bed. We're gonna wait right here for your
little boyfriend. I want him to know who you belong to."
"TJ, he knows. Come on. He knows I belong to you. You don't need to mess with
him."
"Sit. Down," he barked, jerking the gun toward the bed.
She swallowed hard and did as he said. She kept her gaze away from the knife
still on the nightstand; it was a good bet he probably wouldn't recognize it
anyway. The sheath was laying over it and only a gleam of the brass knuckles
showed.
She sat as close to the nightstand as she could without making it obvious. TJ
stepped toward her and ran the gun barrel down the center of her chest.
"All these freckles," he said with a frown. "It's too bad. You really are
pretty otherwise."
"Thank you, TJ," she said, her eyes downcast. He tapped her chin with the gun
and she looked up at him.
"Smile for me, sweetheart. Show me how happy you are to see me."
"Of course I'm happy to see you, TJ. I've been waiting for you." Over his
shoulder she saw the door start to open. "Juice, get out of here! Run!" she
cried.
It had the opposite effect she wanted: he shoved through the door and only
stopped when he saw TJ's gun pressed against Olivia's temple.
"Oh good," TJ said. "You're back. We've been waiting for you."
Juice's eyes darted from TJ to Olivia and back again. "Hey, man," he finally
said. "Glad you stopped by. You don't need the gun. We can all just talk, you
know? No big deal."
"That's what I said," Olivia said.
He grabbed a handful of Olivia's hair and yanked hard enough to make her wince
as he turned the gun on Juice. "Not sure we've really got much to say. She's
mine. I came to get her back."
"You know I can't let you do that," Juice said. He didn't sound the least bit
ruffled, but Olivia knew him well enough to recognize the tightening around his
mouth and the slight widening of his eyes.
"It's okay, Juice," Olivia said. "I already told TJ I'd be happy to go with
him." She smiled and touched TJ's arm. "He's who I love, after all. Who I
belong with."
He sneered. "That's right. And you're lucky I still want to touch you after he
had his filthy hands all over you."
"You're so generous, TJ," she murmured. From the corner of her eye she could
see Juice moving closer. TJ had dropped his guard somewhat, and if she could
get her hands on the knife—
TJ straightened and pointed the gun at Juice again. He went still. "Doesn't
seem like we really need him at all," he said with a strange, high-strung
laugh.
"That's true," Olivia said. "Let me put some clothes on and we'll leave. Just
you and me, TJ."
"I don't know, Olivia," he said. "I might want to make sure he knows you're
mine."
Her mouth fell open a little. She didn't like the look in his eyes: they were
too bright, his pupils too small, and he wasn't blinking enough. What was he
on? She licked her lips and tried to smile again. "I think he knows, sugar. He
knows I was just killing time with him until you came around again."
She darted a look at Juice. "Let me put some clothes on, TJ. He doesn't need to
see me like this. Not anymore."
TJ glared at her, but after a moment his head jerked in a nod. "Make it quick."
She grabbed her dress off the floor and stepped into it. Turned her back on TJ
and gathered her hair out of the way. "Zip me up?" she said.
He made a low noise, maybe of annoyance, and reached for her zipper. She was
standing with her thigh pressed against the nightstand, and while he was
distracted she let her fingers close around the brass knuckles. The knife came
free of the sheath easily, and she tucked them into her palm. He would see them
if he bothered to look. She hoped he wouldn't.
"There," he said and smoothed a hand down her back.
She turned to face him again. Juice was directly behind him now, almost close
enough to touch. She swallowed around the lump in her throat and smiled. "We
should—we should get out of here, don't you think?"
His eyes jumped around her face, and behind him Juice raised the ice bucket.
There was a breathless moment that seemed to drag forever, and then suddenly
the bucket smashed into TJ's head. He roared and spun around. Olivia flicked
the blade out and did what Happy had taught her: straight up, under the ribs,
toward the kidneys.
TJ staggered, but whatever he was on had him so wired he didn't go down. Olivia
twisted the knife and he screeched. Juice reached for the gun, and as he
knocked it aside it went off.
The roar was deafening, and Olivia was so stunned she couldn't move. Her entire
head rang and the adrenaline pumping through her had reduced her vision to a
dim tunnel. She blinked. The gun. Had to get the gun. She yanked her knife out
of TJ and he finally slumped over, more from shock than anything.
Juice.
She blinked.
Juice was on the floor. Blood. Too much blood. His hands clutched his side and
everything seemed to move in slow motion. She jerked her head. Juice reached
for her, his fingers red and trembling, and suddenly reality came back like the
crash of a wave.
Noise everywhere: TJ's shrieks and Juice calling her name. Someone pounding on
the door. And, apparently, Olivia herself screaming. Screaming and screaming
like she couldn't imagine how to stop.
Chapter End Notes
     Sorry for the delay on this update, loves. There were some ~issues~.
***** Closing In *****
Chapter Summary
     The aftermath of TJ's attack.
                     these four walls are closing in on me
                       the talk is louder than i'll sing
                 i want to be there, want to be where you are
     but you know it all, every look and smile that aren't meant to break
                    i'm over the bridge and under the rain
                         Matt Kearney, "Crashing Down"
And, like a rubber band snapping, calm set in. Olivia took a deep breath. She
ran for the bathroom to grab a towel, a blanket from the closet, and before she
knelt next to Juice she swiped the phone off the nightstand. She smiled at him
and batted his hand away from his side so she could press the towel against
him. She unfolded the blanket and wrapped it around him.
"Hold this, baby," she said. "You're gonna be fine. Hold it tight." He managed
a pained nod, and she dialed 911. She rested her hand on his and helped him add
pressure. He grunted and she kissed his forehead. "Shh," she murmured. "It's
gonna be all right, Juicy. I promise."
"Hurts," he mumbled.
She stroked his cheek and answered the operator on the phone. "Someone broke
into our motel room and shot my boyfriend. We need an ambulance. The Carriage
Inn, room two seventeen."
There was a pause while she listened, and some of her calm seemed to crack.
"Um." Her eyes darted to TJ sprawled across the floor nearby and she swallowed.
"Um, I stabbed him. He—it looks like he's…breathing, but I…" She moved her head
in a quick jerk. "Yeah, of course. Yeah."
Juice reached for her as she pushed to her feet, and she squeezed his fingers.
"Keep the pressure on. I'll be right back," she said to him. She checked TJ's
pulse and shoved a wadded up bit of sheet beneath his back. She didn't want to
turn him over; she didn't know much first aid beyond health class, and she had
no idea what flipping him might do.
"There's a lot of blood," she said. "His pulse is pretty fast. Um…I don't want
to move him, and…" She glanced over at Juice. What the fuck was she doing?
Obviously she didn't want TJ to die, but she also didn't want to waste her time
and attention on him. She glared at the phone and hung up. She knew it wasn't
911 protocol, but she didn't really care.
Still scowling, she threw open the door. The person pounding on it—a security
guard—looked taken aback by her expression, and for a moment he paused. "I
called 911 already," she said. "Come help."
She pointed him toward TJ and he hesitated. "What the hell happened here?" he
said.
"That guy shot this guy and I stabbed that guy. Please just make sure he
doesn't die, okay?" She dropped down next to Juice again and grasped his hand.
"Help's on the way, love," she said.
"Hope he dies," Juice grunted.
Biting her lip, she darted her eyes that way. She wanted to agree, but she knew
if he did die, the cops would be all over her. They would be anyway. She didn't
want the security guard explaining how the girl who stabbed the rich kid wished
for his death afterwards.
"Just breathe, Juicy," she said. "Look at me. I've got you."
"Hey!" the guard said. "He's not doin' so good."
"An ambulance is coming," she said. "Cover him up. It's important to keep him
warm, for shock and stuff."
"You really stabbed this kid?"
Her knife was on the floor between them and the bed. She nodded toward it. "He
shot my boyfriend. He had been holding me at gunpoint. Yes, I stabbed him."
In the distance sirens wailed. She closed her eyes and pressed a bloody hand
against her forehead. "They're coming," she said to Juice. "Hang on, babe.
They're coming."
"I'm okay, Liv," he said. "Really I'm okay. Doesn't hurt much."
"Shit," she muttered. She lifted the blanket and her eyes went wide. The towel
was soaked through. "You're gonna be fine, Juan Carlos. Hear me? Just fine."
His mouth curved. "So bossy."
"Damn right."
Paramedics burst through the door and Olivia and the guard scrambled out of
their way. She tried to answer their barrage of questions as best she could,
but she had no idea how long it had been. The guard knew, though. He hadn't
been having a mental breakdown at the time.
TJ's heart stopped, but they got it going again with the defibrillator, and it
was him they took out first. Another crew was right behind them, and she
followed them to the ambulance.
"Miss!" the guard called. "You gotta stay here and talk to the cops!"
She cast a look over her shoulder. "They can find me at the hospital." One of
the paramedics helped her into the back of the ambulance and slammed the doors
behind them.
===============================================================================
The hotel was outside of Charming proper, so it fell under the sheriff's
jurisdiction, not Unser's—more's the pity. She had no real desire to answer any
of their questions, but she knew she had to. The only thing that put them off
was her age. She was a minor, and they had to wait for her dad to get there. He
was at work, so it was going to take a little while. In the meantime she called
Juice's mom, and now they sat in the waiting room together while Juice was in
surgery.
Olivia could barely look at her. All of this was her fault. She'd had no idea
TJ was so unhinged, but maybe she could've done something. Talked to him. Or,
at the other end of the spectrum, she could've told Chibs or Tig what was
really going on and they could've done something about it.
Except that might've just made things worse. How much worse could they get at
this point?
"Olivia," Ana said, her voice soft.
Olivia's chin tilted in that direction, but she still wouldn't look her in the
face.
"Olivia, please. My son loves you very much. He'd never want you to blame
yourself for this."
"It's my fault, though. TJ was there for me. He shot Juice when Juice was
trying to defend me. It's entirely my fault."
She sighed and rested a hand on Olivia's knee. "Juan Carlos was very different
back in Queens. Much more withdrawn. Fewer friends." She smiled a little.
"Hardly any friends. Moving out here has done him so much good. Maybe the best
part is how he's been since he started dating you."
Now Olivia did look at her, surprise dropping her jaw and lifting her brows. "I
don't understand," she finally said.
"He's always been sensitive. Quiet. Still waters run deep, as they say." She
paused, and her dark eyes—so much like Juice's—were steady on Olivia's. "I hear
his voice when he talks about you. I see his face. He laughs more. Smiles more.
He looks forward to school."
"I don't think that's just because of me. I mean, there's Jax and Opie. Tara
and Donna, too, but he isn't as close with them. From what he's told me about
his old school, I think he's just glad people aren't stuffing him in trashcans
anymore."
She made a low, doubtful noise. "I'm sure his other friends are part of it."
Olivia cleared her throat and shifted in the uncomfortable chair. "I never
meant for—I never thought—" She broke off and shook her head. "I love him,
too," she whispered.
"I know, mija."
She blinked, and Ana smiled big and bright, so like her son that Olivia's
breath caught. "Anyone who cares about Juan Carlos as much as you do is already
part of the family."
Olivia laughed. "Maybe we should clear that with Juice first."
"Something tells me he won't mind."
Confused and flustered, Olivia opened her mouth to reply. Before she could, her
father burst through the waiting room doors. He caught sight of them and rushed
their way. Scooped her up before she was even on her feet and squeezed her so
tight she squeaked.
"Daddy, I'm okay," she gasped. "Put me down!"
He held her at arms' length, and his eyes were wild. "Olivia, Jesus, all they
told me was that you were a the hospital and there'd been a shooting. Whose
blood is this?"
She glanced back at Ana. "It's Juice's. He's the one who was shot."
"Holy shit." James reached for Ana and they hugged for a moment before he was
back in Olivia's face. "What happened, sweetheart? Who had a gun?"
"TJ," she said, avoiding his eyes. She opened her mouth, but Ana's hand on her
arm stopped her. She nodded across the room. Two cops were headed their way,
and Olivia had no doubt they wouldn't be put off this time.
"Are you this girl's father?" one of them said.
James frowned and wrapped an arm around Olivia. "James Gable. Gentlemen, surely
your questions can wait. My daughter's had a trauma tonight."
One of them raised a brow. "I'm Lieutenant Mendoza, SanWa County Sheriff. We
really do need to ask your daughter a few questions."
"It's okay, Dad," she said. "I might as well get it over with."
The cops had taken over one of those patient liaison rooms, where families
waited for news from the doctors, and now they led Olivia and her father that
way. They offered water, which Olivia accepted, and once they were all settled
the sheriff pulled out a pad of paper and fixed her with a smile. He was about
her father's age, with sun-worn brown skin and kind dark eyes.
"This shouldn't take long," he said to Olivia. "We just need to straighten out
a few details." He gestured to the deputy, and she pulled out a clear plastic
bag. Olivia's brow furrowed when she saw what was inside. "Do you recognize
this knife, Olivia?"
She nodded. "It's mine."
"Yours?" James said. "Since when do you have a knife?"
"Since someone slashed the truck's tires," she said, her voice weary.
Mendoza shifted in his chair. "Is it true you and TJ Flanary have a prior
relationship?"
"That's right," Olivia said. "I broke up with him before Christmas."
"And what's the nature of your relationship with Juan Carlos Ortiz?"
"He's my boyfriend. We've been dating…" She trailed off with a shrug. "A few
months."
He lifted a brow at her. "Why don't you just tell me what happened tonight,
Olivia."
She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Juice—Juan Carlos—booked a room for us at
the Carriage Inn." She cut her eyes toward her dad, but he remained impassive.
"It's prom night. We decided not to go, our group of friends, because it's too
expensive."
"And who are your friends?" he said.
"Um. Jax Teller, Tara Knowles, Opie Winston, and Donna West."
"Jax Teller and Opie Winston," he repeated.
"I don't think her friends have anything to do with this," James said. "Go
ahead, Ollie."
"Juice left to get ice, and I was in the bathroom. I heard the door open and
thought it was him, but it was TJ."
"Why would TJ follow you and Juan Carlos—Juice—to the hotel?"
She frowned and glanced at her dad. He gave a brief nod. "He didn't take the
breakup well. He tried to attack me, and later he started some pretty nasty
rumors about me at school. Someone had taken pictures of Juice and me and sent
them to me. Later I got some really creepy gifts in my locker, and then earlier
this week someone slashed the tires on my truck."
"Whoever did that also killed a cat and stuffed its body in the wheel well,"
James said.
"What?" said Olivia.
James squeezed her hand. "We didn't want to upset you, sweetheart."
"All right," Mendoza said as he made notes. "Do you have proof TJ was behind
any of these pranks?"
"They were a little bit more severe than pranks, Sheriff," James said with a
frown.
"TJ assaulted me at school. Grabbed me around the throat and threw me into a
locker. Juice punched him, and they got into a fight. TJ was suspended for two
weeks, kicked off lacrosse, and banned from all school events, like prom court
and senior superlatives. He was pissed," Olivia said.
Mendoza made a low noise. "Okay, so you came out of the bathroom and he was
there. What happened next?"
"I told him to get out, and he pulled a gun. Made me sit on the bed." She
paused a moment for a sip of water. "I tried to talk him into just leaving. I
didn't want Juice to get hurt, and TJ looked crazy. Like, his eyes were all
weird and he was talking really fast."
"Do you think he might have been under the influence of something?"
"Seemed like it," Olivia said with a shrug. "Anyway, Juice came in, and he was
threatening Juice with the gun, kept saying he was going to shoot him…" She
closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and when she spoke again her voice was
thick. "Juice hit him in the head with the ice bucket and grabbed for the gun,
but it went off. I—I stabbed TJ in the back when he and Juice were fighting,
like right after he shot Juice."
Mendoza sat back and tapped his pen against the pad. "That's where we have a
problem, Olivia. You stabbed him in the back."
"He'd been facing me until Juice hit him, then he turned around and
he shot Juice. I knew if I didn't do something he'd probably shoot me, too."
"She was defending herself and her boyfriend, sheriff," James said. "I think
that's obvious. TJ is nearly six feet tall. He plays football and lacrosse, and
apparently he was on drugs. My daughter is five foot three. Would she really
have stood a chance against him head-on, especially since he had a gun?"
Mendoza's brows lifted in a little shrug and he gestured for Olivia to
continue. "Go on," he said.
"I sort of…I kind of flipped out for a minute, so I'm not really sure what
happened after that. I called 911 and tried to do some first aid on Juice and
TJ. There was a security guard. I let him in and he was helping TJ. I don't
know. Then the paramedics came. It's all sort of a blur."
"Where did you get the knife? You know a six-inch blade switchblade is illegal.
It's too long."
She raised her hand in a shrug. "I had no idea. It was a gift."
"From whom?" Mendoza said.
"A friend. Why does it matter?"
"Is my daughter under arrest, Sheriff Mendoza? Do I need to call a lawyer?"
He kept his eyes on hers a few moments longer before finally he relented and
shook his head. "No, Mr. Gable. Olivia's story matches the sequence of events
as far as we can tell, and it seems like TJ came to that hotel for the purpose
of doing your daughter and her boyfriend harm. He brought a gun, after all."
His mouth quirked. "His father's gun."
Olivia made a face but didn't comment.
"Mr. Flanary is already making noise about this, though. If TJ doesn't make
it—"
"He doesn't have that much pull, does he? I mean, I know he's rich, but if the
evidence says—and when Juice wakes up, he'll—" She broke off. Bit her lip and
clenched her shaking fingers into fists. "He'll say what happened."
"I understand that, but you need to know—Flanary is a major donor for the DA's
reelection campaign."
"And yours?" James said.
Mendoza bared his teeth in a smile. "He supports my opponent."
"Yeah, but I imagine he'd switch gears if you tried to punish the girl who hurt
his little boy," Olivia said.
"I don't have much interest in Mr. Flanary's style of politics." He leaned
closer and lowered his voice. "Be that as it may, he's the reason I'm here
talking to you instead of one of my detectives. I didn't want there to be any
questions about impropriety or mishandling."
"I don't want TJ dead. I wouldn't…I was just trying to protect myself, and
protect Juice. That's all."
"That seems clear, but I imagine Mr. Flanary will want to muddy the issue.
Things like these rumors he started, and the apparent stalking; they're motive
for TJ's attack, but Flanary could try to use them as motive against you. You
were angry with TJ and wanted him to leave you and your boyfriend alone, so you
attacked him."
Olivia snorted, but inside she felt an icy brush of fear. "That's ridiculous.
He followed us. He came to our room. He brought a gun. You just said that. It
would be different if I stabbed him at his house."
"Sounds like a great argument for your lawyer," Mendoza said.
James shifted. "Do you think we need a lawyer?" he asked again. "It sounds like
you aren't going to charge her with anything."
Mendoza shrugged. He seemed weary. "I don't make the decision to charge
someone, Mr. Gable. The DA does. I'm not going to arrest you, Olivia, assuming
Juice corroborates your story. Unfortunately my boss might have other ideas."
Olivia grasped her father's hand and squeezed. "Do you really think…?"
"I don't know," Mendoza said. His voice was compassionate, his expression
serious. "I just wanted to prepare you. Get in touch with a lawyer just in
case. I'll give my report to the DA as soon as I talk to Juice, and I'll do
what I can to convince the DA not to press charges."
"We appreciate it, sheriff," James said.
Before any of them could say anything further, the door opened and a deputy
stuck his head in the room. "Ortiz is out of surgery," he said.
Olivia's eyes went wide. "Is he—?"
The deputy glanced at Mendoza, who nodded. "Doctor didn't say much, just that
he was in recovery. I guess we can talk to him once he wakes up," he said to
the sheriff.
"Good," he said. "Any news on Flanary?"
The deputy shook his head. "Surgery still, I'm pretty sure."
"All right. Thank you." The door shut behind him and Mendoza looked at Olivia
and James. "I imagine you'd like to be with Mrs. Ortiz now."
"It's Ms.," Olivia said. "But yeah. I think we would."
===============================================================================
Consciousness was fleeting and overrated. It hurt to be awake. He'd seen his
mom and talked to the cops, and now he just wanted to sleep. But pain pulled
him to the surface, and this time when he opened his eyes his mom was gone. The
chair wasn't empty, though, and he couldn't help but smile when he recognized
her familiar bright hair.
"Liv," he murmured.
Her head shot up and tears filled her eyes. His eyes. His smile, silly and kind
of dopey from the pain medication. He was pale, too pale, but she was so happy
to see him looking back at her that she could barely speak. "Oh my God, Juicy."
"Don't cry," he said. "I feel good."
"Liar." She scooted closer to the bed and brushed her fingers against his. He
grasped her hand and held on tight. "You look like shit, Ortiz."
He grinned. "I do kinda feel like shit."
"You scared me. Don't ever do that again. You scared me!"
"I know," he said. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize. If you hadn't hit him—" She broke off and bit her lip, and he
rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand.
"I told the cops everything I remembered. TJ had a gun on you and I hit him
and—"
"I know, baby. Sheriff Mendoza said he won't arrest me, so really it's just up
to the DA not to press charges."
His eyes went wide. "Why would he do that? TJ attacked us."
"Political cronyism," she said. "TJ's dad is helping get the DA reelected."
"Fuck," Juice muttered. "That's fuckin' bullshit."
"Don't I know it."
There was a pause while they just looked at each other. Juice untangled his
fingers from hers and touched her face like he thought she might disappear. "I
dreamed about you."
"Oh yeah?" she said, her voice soft. "What did you dream?"
"You and me. We were—we were grown up, and we had a place. Like a real nice
place. And we were…we were real happy. We had a dog."
Her face creased in a smile and she sniffled. "That sounds great."
"Yeah," he said. "It was." He scowled. "How's TJ?"
"They haven't really said. His surgery lasted way longer than yours, and no one
will give me an update. I'm not family or anything, so…" She trailed off with a
shrug, then she dropped her forehead to rest on his arm. "What if he dies,
Juicy?"
"Good riddance."
"I mean it!" she cried. "What if he dies? I will have killed him! I know we
hate him and he's fucking horrible, but he has a mom. She's bound to love him,
right? And his dad, I guess."
"Hey," Juice said. "Hey, it's okay. Hush, babe. Look, if he dies—well, fuck,
Liv, he tried to kill me. He would've if you hadn't stabbed him. He might've
killed you, but only before he—" He broke off and swallowed hard. "If he dies,
he deserved it. You did what you had to do. Better him than either one of us."
"Will you still love me if I'm a murderer?"
He laughed, but it was stilted from pain. "I'll love you no matter what,
Olivia. You know that." He poked her arm. "Right?"
After a moment she nodded. "Yeah, Juicy. I know."
A nurse poked her head in and glared at Olivia. "Are you upsetting my patient?"
she said.
"Nah," said Juice. "She's cheerin' me up."
"Mmmhhmm," she said, doubtfully. "Visiting hours are almost over. As soon as
Ana gets back you'll have to leave, Olivia."
Olivia nodded. "Okay. Thank you."
She checked Juice's stats and then hurried out. As the door shut behind her
Juice and Olivia could hear a commotion in the hall. They shared apprehensive
glances, and a moment later two men burst into the room, followed by the
protesting nurse.
"Really, gentlemen, surely this can wait! My patient—"
"We're not here for your patient, ma'am," the taller one said.
Olivia recognized one of them: Sheriff Mendoza. The man behind him was dressed
in an expensive suit, and her heart thudded hard in her chest.
"Juice," she whispered. He looked as confused and frightened as she felt, but
his grip on her fingers was strong and reassuring.
"This girl is a minor!" the nurse said. "You can't just—you need to call her
guardian."
"My dad went home," Olivia said, inanely. "He'll be back soon to pick me up."
Mendoza let out a heavy sigh and held out a hand. "I'm sorry, Olivia," he said.
"Come here, please."
"What's going on?" Juice said. "I told you what happened: TJ shot me. He
attacked us. She didn't do anything wrong!"
"Juice, try to stay calm," the nurse said. His heart rate spiked on the monitor
and she glared at the sheriff. "Can't this wait?"
"No," the suited man said. "It can't." He nodded at Mendoza, who scowled and
reached for Olivia. He peeled her hand out of Juice's and gently pulled her
arms behind her.
"Olivia Gable, you're under arrest for the murder of Theodore Flanary, Jr."
Her mouth fell open and Juice howled in protest.
"No," she said. "No. He attacked us! You know that!"
"You have the right to remain silent," Mendoza continued as though she hadn't
spoken. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…"
Her mind blanked as he read her rights. She couldn't believe it. TJ was dead.
She had killed him. She'd killed him, but…but she hadn't meant to, and if she
hadn't…
Juice had just said it. TJ or them. She'd choose them any day.
"Don't say anything," Mendoza murmured under his breath. "Wait for your father.
Wait for a lawyer. Don't say a word."
She clamped her mouth shut and let him lead her away. She would take his
advice. Mendoza knew her story, and he was on her side. The other guy must be
the fucking DA. She glared at him, but his smooth face was blank.
TJ was dead. Olivia had killed him. And apparently Teddy Flanary wasn't
taking self defense for an answer.
***** Pale Moon *****
Chapter Summary
     The aftermath of Olivia's arrest.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                          got no beauty in this place
                            got no water in my cage
                         got pale moon to light my way
                     Angie Aparo, "Flesh Breath and Bone"
Olivia's lawyer was a small, portly man named Brian Avery. When James heard
about Olivia's arrest he called Gemma, and Gemma recommended Brian. Now half
the MC had descended upon the SanWa County sheriff's office, and the deputies
looked decidedly nervous. They were behaving, for the most part: just milling
around and offering cold glares to any cops who dared look at them.
Olivia had been closeted with Avery for the last hour, and he recommended she
give a formal statement, more detailed than what she'd told Mendoza at the
hospital.
"I'll tell him anything he wants," Olivia said. "The last thing I wanted was
for TJ to die, but I did want to stop him from hurting Juice or me."
"The problem is the order of events. If you stabbed TJ before he shot Juice—"
"Does that matter so much?" Olivia said with a frown. "He had a gun. He'd
already threatened to hurt Juice, and who knows what he planned to do with me."
"I wish you'd reported his earlier attack, and the stalking."
"Water under the bridge now. But there are tons of witnesses for what happened
at school that day, and I still have the gifts and the pictures."
He made a note. "And what about the knife?"
She sighed. "Tig Trager gave it to me. I asked him to teach me some self
defense moves because of the slashed tires. I thought…well I never
imagined this would happen, but at the same time I thought it would be better
if something did happen, I'd be able to defend myself."
"You didn't ask him to give you a weapon?"
"No. I asked him to teach me some things, and he got the knife and gave it to
me. I wasn't even sure I wanted to keep it."
"Will Mr. Trager be willing to make a statement?"
Olivia stared at him. "You're kidding, right?"
"One can hope. After all, it doesn't have anything to do with the MC."
"Ask him," Olivia said. "Can't hurt."
He nodded and closed his notepad. "I'm going to get Mendoza now. I imagine the
DA will want to sit in as well."
"Right. This is his show, after all."
"Mmm," he said, a low noise of disapproval. "Be calm. Be contrite. Above all,
don't be confrontational. If you have any doubts about a question, look at me.
If I think a question is out of line, I'll stop them. Okay?"
"Okay," she said. He bustled through the door, surprisingly quick on his feet
for someone so round, and Olivia pressed her palms against the table and tried
to relax. Brian had said the charges were bullshit, and any judge worth half
his salt would throw them out. She just had to give her statement, answer their
questions, and she'd be fine.
Mendoza, Brian, and the DA came in, and after a moment Mendoza spoke. "Olivia,
this is Alan Lang. He's the District Attorney for San Joaquin County, and he
asked to sit in on our interview."
"Mr. Lang," she said, keeping her tone polite.
He only nodded, and the three men found their seats. Mendoza started a tape
recorder and stated everyone's names and the date, and then he dove into his
questions. He asked her to give a recap of what happened, and she told him
almost exactly what she'd said at the hospital. When she was finished Lang
leaned forward in his chair.
"Why were you and Juan Carlos Ortiz at the hotel?"
She glanced at Brian, and he lifted a brow in a shrug. "It…it was prom night,"
Olivia said. "My dad lifted my curfew. Um. Do I have to…?" She blushed a little
and Mendoza lifted a hand.
"I think we get the picture, Mr. Lang," he said.
"There were several used condoms in the trash can," said Lang.
Olivia fought the urge to roll her eyes.
"Is that a question?" Brian said.
"I just want it stated for the record what Miss Gable and Mr. Ortiz were doing
in that hotel room."
Her blush deepened. "We were having sex, Mr. Lang. That's why we were there.
For sex. Juice is my boyfriend, and it's something we do."
"I see," he said, unruffled. "And how long have you and Mr. Ortiz been sexually
active?"
"I don't see how that's relevant at all," Brian said before Olivia could speak.
Lang took off his reading glasses, folded them, and fixed Olivia with a long
look. "The problem is these rumors, Miss Gable. You know the ones I mean."
"The rumors TJ started," she said. "About me."
"Exactly. You're a smart young woman. I imagine someone starting rumors like
that would make you angry."
Brian touched her arm. "Mr. Flanary sought my client out tonight, not vice
versa. Regardless of her anger—or lack thereof—about the rumors, that remains
fact."
"He did seek her out," Lang said. "And he found her in a hotel room with
another boy. She was armed with a knife. While she might not have planned to
kill Mr. Flanary tonight, the fact remains that any residual feelings she had
might have colored the attack."
"You don't have to answer these questions, Olivia," Brian said.
"TJ had a gun on me. I couldn't go for the knife at all. Juice hit him, he shot
Juice, I stabbed TJ to stop him. That's what happened. I wasn't trying to kill
him. I just wanted to make sure he didn't hurt either of us any more than he
already had."
"You're really charging her?" Brian said. "It's clear to everyone what
happened. Mr. Ortiz corroborated her sequence of events. Mr. Flanary came to
that hotel with a gun and a grudge. He has a history of violence against my
client. It's likely he was stalking her, having her photo taken and leaving her
inappropriate gifts, including slashed tires and a dead cat. You really want to
get up in front of a judge with this nonsense?"
Lang smiled, slow and slimy. "I go where the evidence leads," he said.
Mendoza smothered a snort. "I think we have what we need," he said. He turned
off the recorder and pushed to his feet.
"I'd like my client to be held in juvenile detention until her arraignment,"
Brian said.
"She's seventeen," said Lang. "We're planning to charge her as an adult."
Olivia gaped. Part of her wasn't surprised, but that meant she would be housed
with regular inmates. It was Saturday; her arraignment wouldn't be until Monday
at the earliest.
"Mr. Avery—"
"It's all right, Olivia. I'll see what I can do." He took her by the arm and
leaned closer, so that the others couldn't overhear. "In the meantime keep your
head down. Don't provoke anyone and don't draw attention to yourself."
He had known her barely two hours and he already had a pretty good read on her.
Her eyes seemed to take up half her face as she nodded, and neither Mendoza nor
Brian looked pleased.
"We'll give you a few minutes to talk to your father, then we have to transport
you to holding. Okay?" Mendoza said.
"Um." She rubbed both hands back through her hair and tugged a little. "Yeah,"
she finally said. "I guess that's fine, yeah."
Like she had any choice in the matter.
===============================================================================
It was a long two days, probably the longest of Olivia's life. Gemma came to
see her Saturday afternoon, mad as a hornet and spitting nails. Not at Olivia,
of course, but at the DA and the sheriff and Teddy Flanary (that pencil-dick
son of a bitch, as she called him) and basically anyone she could blame for
Olivia's situation.
After a good ten minutes of ranting she calmed down and took Olivia's measure
with shrewd eyes. "How you doin', sweetheart? Had to cut any bitches?"
She frowned. "Not super funny, all things considered." She sighed and shook her
head. "I'm fine. Orange isn't my color at all and the food's kinda shit, but
otherwise it's fine."
Gemma looked skeptical, but she didn't say anything. Instead, "I went by the
hospital before I came here."
"How's Juice?"
"He's doin' real good. Doctors say he should be able to go home maybe middle of
the week."
Olivia let out a long sigh, and when she spoke again her voice was shaky. "He
would've killed him, Gem. I know he would have."
She held up a hand. "You don't gotta tell me, baby. I know. You did what you
had to do." She paused and made sure she had Olivia's full attention. "You did
what an old lady would do, Ollie. I'm proud of you."
Olivia bit her lip and her eyes flicked away. An old lady, huh? A regular
miniature Gemma Teller. "Thanks, Gemma," she finally said. "That means a lot."
And it did. She didn't want to be an old lady, and if she and Juice did stay
together in a…future sort of way…she hoped he wouldn't patch in. But she knew
Gemma meant it as a compliment. Maybe the highest compliment she could give.
That mattered, because as much as she and Gemma might butt heads sometimes,
she'd always wanted Gemma's respect. It mattered.
She took a deep, gulping breath and let it out slowly. "Gemma," she whispered,
"I'm scared." She hadn't meant to say it, and as soon as it was out she
regretted it, but it was too late now.
Gemma snapped immediately into Mom Mode. "Listen to me, Olivia: you are going
to be fine. I promise you. Everyone knows these charges are bullshit, and
honestly it's that impotent little shit Flanary flexing his muscles. That's
all." She smirked. "You're a badass bitch. Don't forget it."
Olivia nodded. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, you're right."
"Of course I am." The guard called time's up and Gemma rolled her eyes. "I'll
tell the kids you said hi. Don't let the bitches get you down, sweetheart."
She didn't want Gemma to go. She was scared as hell and lonely and all the
tough talk in the world wasn't going to change that. But she nodded and tried
to smile.
The guard led her to her cell and unfastened the handcuffs. Olivia sank down
onto her hard cot and scooted back to lean against the wall. She pulled her
knees up and propped her arms on them, then rested her head against the cinder
blocks and closed her eyes. It was almost dinner, but hopefully before then she
could get some time to think.
Except she didn't want to think. When she let herself actually consider her
situation her mind started spinning thousands of scenarios, from best case (all
charges dropped and she got out of here Monday) to worst (did they have the
death penalty in California? They sure as fuck did in her imagination.), and
she was so fucking tired of it. She hadn't slept since Friday morning. Her
nerves were strung out and jangled and everything had started to project double
images of itself on the inside of her eyelids.
A blink seemed to take a hundred years.
She must have dozed, because the sound of a shoe against linoleum jolted her
awake. She sat up fast and scrubbed at her gritty eyes. A woman stood in the
doorway of her cell, leaning against the bars with her arms crossed over her
chest.
"Hey, honey," she said.
She was taller than Olivia, probably five-six, with dirty blonde hair and dark
eyes. Her face was lean, fox-like, and her hungry, predatory look gave Olivia
the shivers.
Olivia said nothing, just stared.
"I'm talkin' to you," the woman said, her voice going impatient.
She swallowed. "Um. Hello."
The woman smiled. Her teeth were rotting, her face pock-marked. Meth? It was
all they fucking heard about in school these days.
"What's your name, honey?"
Olivia rubbed her palms against her thighs. The woman's eyes dropped to follow
the gesture, and when she looked at Olivia again she was grinning.
"Olivia," she said. Her voice didn't quaver, she was proud to note. She slid
slowly to the edge of the bed and set her feet on the floor. The woman
straightened, and Olivia pushed herself to her feet. "What do you want?"
She raised her hands in a soothing gesture. "I'm just bein' friendly, that's
all." Her head tilted. "That's a real pretty name." She shuffled a step closer
and Olivia backed up.
"Thompson!" a sharp voice said from the hall.
The woman cursed and spun around. "The fuck you want?" she spat at the guard
who'd appeared.
"She's a kid, you junky bitch. Get away from her."
"She did somethin' to get her ass locked up in here."
"And it's none of your goddamn business. Get the fuck out of here before we
have a problem."
Thompson cast Olivia a hard glare and stomped away, but before she could get
past him, the guard shot out an arm to stop her. "Spread the word, Thompson:
hands off."
"Fuck you," she snarled, but somehow Olivia thought he'd made his point. He
dropped his arm and Thompson disappeared down the hallway.
Olivia let out a breath and clenched her shaking hands into fists.
The guard waited until the woman was out of earshot before he leaned in
Olivia's cell. "Wayne Unser says hello."
Olivia's jaw fell open, but before she could say anything he was gone. Unser?
What did Unser care what happened to her?
Simple: Unser didn't, not really. He didn't know her from Eve. But Gemma knew
her, and Clay had Unser on a string. Gemma had gotten her protection from the
guards. Olivia knew that could actually be more of a hindrance than a help if
she were held over until her trial, but hopefully it would get her through the
next forty-eight hours relatively unscathed.
She dropped down onto her bunk and curled into a ball. She missed her bed. She
missed Juice. She missed her dad. Olivia had, basically since her mother died,
thought of herself as practically an adult. Mature and independent. But at that
moment she felt like a scared kid, and she wanted her mother more than she ever
had in her life, even in those awful months right after the accident.
She sniffed hard and scrubbed the heel of her hand across her eyes. She was
seventeen years old. Was this her life now? She knew she was getting ahead of
herself. Brian had assured her bail would be set low due to her age and
community ties, and her dad said he could put the house up as collateral if he
had to—which she hated, but…
So then what? She went home for however many months before a fucking trial and
sat around twiddling her thumbs? How could she go back to school now? Surely
Blowjob Queen was better than Murder Queen, and Blowjob Queen had been bad
enough.
Upon reflection, Olivia realized that her old problems had been relatively
trivial ones. She would gladly trade any of this for all of that.
===============================================================================
When Olivia got to the courthouse Monday morning Brian was waiting for her. He
had a simple navy blue dress she'd never seen before, along with panty hose
(!?) and plain navy flats. The clothes were obviously brand new, because they
were nothing like what Olivia usually wore.
"Don't look at me like that," he said. "We need to make you look as responsible
and boring as possible." He shooed her toward the bathroom. "Get dressed. We
have some things to talk about first."
When she emerged with the new clothes on he studied her a moment before he
nodded. "Good. Excellent. I like the hair, too." She'd done it in a simple
braid down her back. "You not only look responsible and boring, but also young.
Excellent."
Her face scrunched. "You want the judge to think I'm a cute kid who wouldn't
hurt a fly."
"Something like that. Sit down, Olivia."
She took the chair he offered and laced her fingers together. "You look
worried."
"Ah, no." He smoothed his expression into a mild smile. "I'm sure everything
will go well."
She lifted a brow. "Please sound more confident in the courtroom."
He let out a sigh and scraped a hand down his face. "It's true I would've
preferred a different judge. Travis Martin. The Flanarys are old friends of
his."
"Fu—um. Fudge."
He smiled. "Good catch. And, yes, I have to agree with you. He does have a
reputation as a good, fair officer of the court, so let's hope that trumps any
cronyism."
She made a low, doubtful noise. "So what's going to happen out there?"
"Excellent question. Let's focus on that instead." He cleared his throat and
straightened his glasses. "We'll waive reading the charges, you'll be informed
of your constitutional rights, and then you'll be asked how you plead. You'll
answer?"
"Not guilty," she said with a scowl.
"Exactly, but how will you answer?"
A brief sigh. "Politely and meekly."
"Good girl. Next the judge will set bail. I can't imagine it will be very high.
You're seventeen, and all your friends and family live here."
"Plus it's not like I have a lot of money for fleeing the country."
He tilted his head in agreement, but before he could reply the door opened. It
was time. He offered her a reassuring smile and they filed into the courtroom.
Everything went exactly like he'd said, until it came time to set bail.
"Your Honor," Lang said, "the State requests the defendant be remanded until
trial."
Judge Martin frowned at him over his reading glasses. "Why in the world would I
need to remand a seventeen-year-old girl whose family is clearly of limited
means? Miss Gable, do you own a passport?"
"No, Your Honor. I've never been out of the state, much less the country."
He lifted a hand and raised his brows at Lang as though to say well there you
go.
Lang cleared his throat. "Miss Gable has strong ties to the Sons of Anarchy
Motorcycle Club. They are an international organization of known criminals."
Olivia's mouth fell open, but Brian hushed her with a brief touch to her elbow.
"Your Honor," he said, "my client has an after school job at Teller-Morrow, the
garage co-owned by Clay Morrow, the MC's president. That is not the same thing
as having ties to the club."
"She is long-time friends with Jackson Teller, Morrow's stepson, and Harry
Winston, whose father is a founding member. If I may approach?" Lang said.
The judge gestured him closer and Lang passed him a sheet of paper before he
handed its twin to Brian.
"As you can see, Your Honor," Lang continued, "Miss Gable is deeply connected
to the MC through her job at Teller-Morrow, as well as through
other relationships."
He somehow made the word sound dirty, and Olivia suppressed a shiver.
Judge Martin studied the paper for a time before he took his glasses off and
fixed Olivia with a long look. "Miss Gable. You admit you have association with
the Sons of Anarchy?"
She glanced at Brian, and he gave her a subtle nod. "Yes, Your Honor. Sort of.
I work at the garage. Jax and Opie—um, Harry—are two of my best friends. But I
don't…if they do anything illegal, I don't know about it. At the shop I fix
cars. When I'm with Jax and Opie we play video games." She shrugged and tried
to look as innocent as possible. "That's really all there is to it. We're in
high school."
"Exactly," the judge said. "In high school and a minor. I'm sorry, Mr. Lang,
but I don't believe Miss Gable is a flight risk, despite
whatever…associations…she might have with this organization. Bail is set at one
hundred thousand dollars." He clapped his gavel and that was that.
She turned to Brian, wide-eyed. "One hundred thousand…? How are we supposed to
get that kind of money?"
"It's okay," he said and squeezed her arm. "You only have to put up ten
percent."
"Ten thousand is just as bad!"
He shook his head. "Gemma's taking care of it. Your father will put the house
up as assurance, and the club is helping with the cash."
She thought but didn't say that that would really help assure everyone she
didn't have ties to SAMCRO. It was ungrateful, she knew, but she almost didn't
want their help.
Except they'd kept her safe in jail. They were helping pay Brian's fees.
Without the club she'd be completely and utterly fucked right now, stuck with
some public defender with a pile of cases and a tiny paycheck who would
probably make some awful deal and write her off.
Finally she nodded. "Okay," she said. "When can I go home?"
"Soon. You'll be held here until your bail is posted. Hang tight, Olivia. Soon.
I promise."
Her dad was sitting behind them, and he hugged her briefly before the bailiff
tugged her gently away. "Love you, baby," he said. "It's all gonna work out."
He looked exhausted, like he hadn't slept either, and she managed a smile for
him. "I know, Daddy. I love you too."
The bailiff led her out and deposited her in the holding cell.
Now all she had to do was wait.
Chapter End Notes
     Whew, okay. Look, guys: I basically know what's going to happen from
     now through the end of the fic, BUT I haven't 100% decided AND
     obviously it's a little trickier to get it down on paper. So just be
     patient with me. :) I promise I'm going to finish, and it shouldn't
     be too much longer.
***** Haunted *****
Chapter Summary
     Olivia has a bit of a breakdown over TJ, then later she and Opie try
     to reconnect.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

                              staring in her face
                       i see a past that still haunts me
       the road where we split up is paved with the things i didn't say
                  we had wonderful times but terrible timing
               now just leave her alone, i'll just be in the way
                       Edwin McCain, "Sorry to a Friend"
Olivia wanted to go straight to the hospital to see Juice, but her father
insisted they wait until tomorrow.
"You need some sleep, pumpkin," he said. "You look beat."
"You're one to talk," she replied with a frown.
"Yeah. So I can only imagine how you must feel." He eased the Cougar to a stop
at a red light and cast her a long look. "Do you want to talk about it?" he
finally said.
She bit her lip and stared out the window, a crease between her brows. "It
wasn't…it could've been way worse. I mean, it was only county holding." She
hitched a shoulder.
"Hum," he said. "In other words no, you don't want to talk about it."
"Dad—"
"It's okay, Olivia. I understand."
"I'm all right, though." She paused. "About that part, I mean."
"And about the rest of it?"
"Well." Twining her fingers around each other, she made a long study of her
hands. Finally: "I killed someone. Intentionally or not. For good reason or
not. I killed him."
"Ollie—"
"And then I was put in handcuffs and fingerprinted and—and—" She broke off and
gave a sharp jerk of her head. "To think it wasn't that long ago I was bragging
that I'm the only one of my friends who's never been in jail."
"I guess now you have a new achievement to brag about: only one of your friends
to be arrested for murder."
"Oh my God!"
He held up a hand. "I know, I know. I'm sorry."
"Wow, Dad. Just wow."
He grinned. "Come on, pumpkin. Better to joke, yeah?"
"Yeah, I guess," she said with a snort.
A silence fell. He shoved a tape in and turned the volume up. Creedence. His
favorite. She could normally deal, but just then she wasn't in the mood for
"Bad Moon Rising." She twisted the knob and he glanced at her.
"Bad choice maybe."
She shrugged and didn't reply. After a while she said, "I meant to ask Mr.
Avery, but—do they have the death penalty in California?"
"Olivia Jameson Gable!" he said, sharp and loud.
She looked at him, wide-eyed. "What? I'm not joking, Dad. It's something I need
to think about."
"It is not. First of all, you're a minor. They don't sentence minors to death.
Secondly, the entire point is moot because you aren't going to be convicted
anyway. There might not even be a trial! Brian and I were talking and he's
going to file a motion to dismiss, among other things."
"What other things?"
"I don't know for sure. Legal things. He said he'd talk more with you about it
after you've had some rest."
"Oh," she said.
It went quiet again. She rubbed her forehead to try to assuage the ache there,
but it was no good. "I'm sorry, Daddy," she murmured.
"What?" He'd barely heard her over the engine noise, and he wasn't sure…
"Olivia, you can't think I'm angry with you?"
"Well I mean. I killed somebody."
"Pumpkin, stop. If you hadn't you and Juice might both be dead now. Or Juice
dead and you—" He broke off with a grimace. His jaw was tight and she could
practically hear his teeth grinding. "Of course I'm not mad at you for
defending yourself."
She took a long breath. "Okay. What about for being there at all?"
He cut a look across the car. "You mean in a hotel room with your boyfriend
where you obviously intended to spend the night?"
"That'd be the one, yep."
He sighed. "I lifted your curfew, sweetheart. I'm not stupid. I was seventeen
once." His voice gentled. "You really love him, don't you?"
Her eyes filled with tears, but she didn't bother to wipe them away. For a
moment she couldn't speak. "Yeah," she finally said. "I really do, Daddy. I
keep thinking about what could've happened. I can't—"
She buried her face in her hands and let out a choked sob.
"Whoa, whoa." He pulled the car over and reached for her, and after a bit of
token resistance she fell across the center console to let him hold her.
"Ollie, honey, it's okay. He's going to be fine." He rubbed her back and lapsed
into meaningless soothing sounds as she cried.
Finally the storm began to pass, and she drew in several gulping breaths. "I'm
sorry. I'm sorry I didn't mean to—"
"No." He cupped her face in his hand and smiled. "You don't have anything to
apologize for, Olivia. Not for being there. Not for stabbing TJ. Certainly not
for loving Juice." He wiped at her cheek with his thumb, but it was a futile
effort.
"I think there are some napkins in the glove compartment," he said.
She fished around for one, and when she pulled it out her red eyes went big. It
was from McDonald's. "Daddy, have you been eating in the Cougar?" she said
through hiccups and sniffles.
He couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, pumpkin," he said and kissed her forehead.
"Never change."
===============================================================================
Later, once they were home, he offered to make her something to eat, but she
shook her head. "I'm not really hungry. Thanks, though."
"Okay." He paused to study her face. She looked older, he thought. "Maybe
spaghetti for dinner?"
She managed to scrounge a smile from somewhere, because she didn't want to
disappoint him. "Yeah, Daddy, that'd be great." She stood in the foyer and
frowned down at her shoes. "Um. I think I'm gonna go do my homework. I didn't
get it done over the weekend, and Tara said she'd bring my assignments from
today by this afternoon."
"Sure, sweetheart," he said. Then, after a moment, "You really want to go back
to school tomorrow?"
Her mouth fell open. She shut it again and swallowed hard. "I don't know. Yes?
Yeah. I do. I can't hide out here, and it's a small town. I'll have to see
people eventually."
There was a rumble out on the street. He lifted the curtain to get a look and
sighed. "I guess a couple of the guys are gonna be camped on our front lawn for
a while. Keep busybodies and reporters away."
She joined him at the window. Chibs and Jimmy, the prospect who'd been assigned
to follow her around. "That's good, I guess. Better than the alternative."
"That's what I said when I agreed to it."
She patted his back. "Should probably make about twice as much spaghetti as
usual. It'd be rude not to offer them some."
"Huh," he said with a grunt. "I guess so."
"I'll see you later," she said. "Just send Tara back to my room when she gets
here, okay?"
"Will do, pumpkin." She started away, but he pulled her back for a long hug.
"Love you, Olivia."
"I know, Daddy. I love you too."
He pressed a kiss on the top of her head. "Try not to brood, honey. It's gonna
be okay. I promise."
Her mouth curved in a sad smile. "I love you, Daddy," she said again, "but I'm
not sure the criminal justice system cares much about dad promises."
"They should," he said. He waved a hand. "Doesn't matter anyway. Evidence is
evidence. You're a seventeen-year-old girl. They're gonna throw it all out."
"I like your optimism, soldier. Let's go sock Hitler in the jaw!"
"My daughter the smartass. Go do your homework, smartass."
She grinned and kissed his cheek. "Thanks, Dad."
"For what?"
"Your optimism. And giving me stuff to laugh at. And not treating me like a zoo
exhibit."
He sighed and mussed her hair. "I'm your dad, pumpkin. It's my job."
"And you're great at it."
One last hug and she left him there. Once the bedroom door shut behind her, her
shoulders fell and the smile faded. She wanted to be strong for her dad, so he
wouldn't worry, but it was hard. She knew if she said that to him he'd lecture
her: I'm the parent. You don't have to be strong for me. But ever since her mom
died, Olivia felt protective of her father. It was bad enough she'd slept with
her teacher and killed someone. She didn't need to mope, too.
He'd moved the computer to the dining room in the wake of the Ben fiasco, so
she couldn't really do the research she wanted to do: death penalty in
California, California murder trials, the grounds for dismissal in the state of
California…et cetera ad infinitum. Instead she grabbed her Lit book and tried
to concentrate on dead British guys.
Three hours later she'd barely made any progress, and in addition she had a
splitting headache. She'd switched to math at some point, but the numbers
seemed to wiggle on the page. Normally math calmed her: there was only one
right answer, no equivocating or theorizing or debate; but today the simple
logic of it was more than her overloaded brain could handle.
She shoved the pile of books off her bed and fell back against the pillows.
Tara would be here soon, another hour or so. She could just take a nap. Or get
something to eat. Or eat then take a nap.
Her stomach gurgled as she flipped onto her side. She didn't feel like eating
despite the hunger. She just wanted to sleep. Sleep and forget all this
bullshit for a few hours. Her bed felt incredible, the most comfortable bed
ever, and her pillow was like a cloud. If only Juice were here. Then everything
would be perfect.
She must've fallen asleep, because next thing she knew there was a knock at her
door. She lurched out of a dream that she couldn't remember, but that clung to
her like dark cobwebs.
"Come in," she managed after a moment.
The door opened to reveal a sheepish looking Opie, and Olivia sat up in
surprise.
"Hey," he said. "Did I wake you up? Sorry. Your dad said just to come on back."
"No," she said. "I mean, yeah, kinda, but it's okay. Come in." She waved him
closer, and he shuffled forward a little. She rolled her eyes. "Close the door
and come sit down, Ope."
He cast a wary look over his shoulder. He knew her dad's rule about keeping her
bedroom door open if she had a boy in there; he was the reason that rule
existed.
"It's okay," she said. "He knows nothing's gonna happen between you and me."
After a moment he nodded and pushed it shut. "Okay," he said and slowly lowered
himself onto the bed. She shifted to give him a little more room, and he kicked
off his shoes and pulled his legs up so that he was sitting next to her.
She bent her knees to wrap her arms around them and watched him from the corner
of her eye.
"I brought your stuff," he said.
"Thanks. Tara was busy?"
"Nah. She was gonna come, but I—I told her I'd do it."
"Oh," she said.
There was a hole in the hem of his t-shirt, and he stuck his finger in it.
Looked around her room and noted what had changed since the last time he was
here: her computer was gone. There was a new Pearl Jam poster. Her CD
collection had grown. He rolled his eyes.
"I see you still got that dumb pretty boy on your wall," he said with a gesture
at one of her posters.
"That's Jordan Catalano from My So-Called Life. I'll be thirty and still have
Jared Leto on my wall."
He snorted. "Like anybody will know who Jared Leto is when we're thirty."
She patted his leg. "It's all right, Opie. You're pretty too. In your own way."
"Whatever," he mumbled, but she could see the flush he tried to hide. Another
silence fell, but this one was easier. After a moment he ducked his head and
took a deep breath. "Ollie, can I ask you somethin'?"
"No secrets between us, Ope. Shoot."
He looked up with a frown. "That used to be true, but ever since—" He waved his
hand between them. "Everything's different now."
"You've had your penis in my vagina. That can change things."
"Olivia, Jesus, don't say shit like that!"
She tried to smother a grin. "You've had your tongue in my mouth? Is that
better?"
He scowled. "Why you gotta be such a pain in the ass?"
"I don't know. I guess I've got the devil in me." She sobered and touched his
knee, a brief gesture of solidarity. "Sorry. What did you want to ask?"
"It's kinda related. To what you just said."
"Us having sex?"
"Yes," he said on a pained huff.
"Is it about you and Donna? Because you know I love you, but I'm not sure—"
"Nah, nothin' like that. I wouldn't—if I needed to talk to a girl about that
stuff, I'd go to Tara. You and me…it wouldn't be right."
"Because of our history?"
"Well yeah." He shrugged and wouldn't look at her. "I've been keepin' my
distance since things started gettin' more serious between Donna and me, and
since you and Ortiz started up. It's like—we're friends, but you're also my ex-
girlfriend. I didn't want Donna or Juice to get the wrong idea about us."
"TJ used to," she said, biting her lip. "But Juice never did."
He cast her an exasperated glare. "That's because TJ was an asshole and Juice
ain't. I guess you figured that much out for yourself."
"Yeah. Right before I stabbed him in the back."
"Olivia, come on."
"No, you're right. Several months before I stabbed him in the back."
"Ollie!"
She grinned. "Relax, Ope. It's okay. The subject isn't taboo."
"Maybe I just don't wanna talk about it," he muttered, scowling harder than
ever. "You can't treat it like it's no big deal."
She went quiet, so quiet that he realized he'd just put his foot in his mouth.
Pretty deep, too. "Shit," he said. "I didn't mean it like that."
"No," she said. "It's okay. I guess it might seem like that, but, honestly. If
I don't laugh I might scream, and if I start screaming I'll probably never
stop."
"Juice told us what happened," he said after a moment. "Sounds like you didn't
have any choice. That's what he said."
"I guess I didn't."
"And it's not like you meant to kill him—and even if you did, fuck him, Ollie!
Seriously. Fuck him and his fucking bullshit. He went there to hurt you. Ortiz,
too. He's been bein' a dick to you since you two started goin' out, and it only
got worse when you broke up with him. He fuckin' deserved a knife to the
kidney."
"Whoa," she said, impressed. "Tell me how you really feel about it."
"If you hadn't done it Jax or me probably would have. Or Ortiz, if he'd lived
through whatever the little prick had in mind. I'm not kidding, Oll," he said
at her incredulous look. "Jax and me've talked about it. If he'd hurt you,
like really hurt you, that woulda been it. No more fuckin' around."
"Ope, for fuck's sake. We're in high school! You can't just—you can't
just kill people!"
"Why not? Our dads—mine and Jax's, and Clay too—were in Vietnam by the time
they were eighteen. Like, a year from now. Then they came home and founded a
one percenter club."
She sighed and tilted her head to rest on his shoulder. "You're too good for
that shit, Opie. You don't need to let Piney drag you into his outlaw
motorcycle gang life."
"You sound like Donna," he said with a grin.
"Good. You should listen to us. We're very intelligent." She took his hand in
hers and laced their fingers together. "We keep changing the subject and you
still haven't gotten to ask your question."
"Feels kinda stupid now," he said.
"Are you kidding? I live for stupid questions."
His grin deepened. He'd missed her. He hadn't realized how much, mostly because
he'd been trying really hard not to think about it, but before they started
going out they used to do stuff like this all the time. Then once they were
dating they still did—but usually with kissing. Which was good too. He was a
fan of kissing. But it was nice to get back to the way it had been, before the
kissing complicated things.
All of which made his question that much weirder.
"I was just thinking—like, lately, I guess—sort of about you and me. Us, you
know. Goin' out or whatever."
Her brow creased. "You askin' me out, Winston?"
"Quit it," he said and elbowed her. "No, for real, listen. I was just
thinking…if we'd waited. Until we were older, like out of high school. Do you
think we might've…I don't know. Worked?"
That wasn't what she'd been expecting. She lifted her head to study his
profile: furrowed brow and downturned mouth and the adorable slope of his nose.
"Ope. Is something wrong between you and Donna?"
"Nah, nothin' like that. I don't even know why I've been thinkin' it. Just, I
don't know. We're so good together, Oll. Like this? So why didn't we work…the
other way?" He took a deep breath and finally looked at her. "I know you never
loved me—"
"Opie!"
"Not like that, anyway. It's okay. I know—how you are."
She licked her lips and bit down on the bottom one. "How am I?" she said, her
voice soft.
"You don't—you don't feel that way about people. That kinda love. It's okay,
Ollie. I'm not judging you or sayin' there's somethin' wrong with you. But it's
like I told Ortiz when he was worried about you and TJ: I knew it wouldn't last
because you don't get in deep."
"I'm in deep with Juice," she said.
"Yeah." His mouth moved in a brief smile. "Yeah, no shit. I guess maybe that's
why I'm askin'. Like, if we'd waited a while, do you think you coulda been in
deep with me?"
"I don't—" She broke off and swallowed around a sudden thickness in her throat.
"I don't think it works that way, love. I think it either happens or it
doesn't. Like with Juice and me. And you and Donna. I don't know that time
changes anything."
"Yeah," he said again, this time with a thoughtful twist to his mouth. "I guess
you're probably right." He turned toward her a bit and cupped her face in his
hand. "Don't get mad, okay?"
"Mad? Why would I get—?" Her voice cut out as he leaned closer, and she
recognized the look in his eyes. He hesitated, but after a second she nodded.
He pressed his mouth to hers, soft and easy. It wasn't passionate. It wasn't
even particularly—romantic, really. It felt like…she wasn't sure. Goodbye,
maybe? Goodbye to that part of their relationship?
Her hand came up and around his neck to tangle in his hair just like she'd
always done when they'd been together, and for a moment it was so poignantly
familiar it was like an ache. Her lower lip slotted between his and he gathered
her closer, just a little, but their mouths stayed closed and the heat never
built beyond a low smolder.
The kiss broke but they didn't pull away. Instead they watched each other, and
after a moment he smiled. "Are you mad?"
"No, Ope," she said. "I'm not mad."
"I love Donna. I'm crazy about Donna. I think I might wanna be with Donna
forever."
"But?" she said, because she could sense it there, hovering.
"But I love you too. Always have. Maybe always will? Don't know."
"I love you too, Opie. You know that."
He sat back, his expression rueful. "Of course I do. But it's not the same." He
forestalled her with a quick gesture. "It's okay, Oll. I'm better with Donna
and you're better with Juice. I guess that's just the way things work out
sometimes."
"Wait," she said as he threw his legs over the side of the bed. "Wait, Ope.
Stay. Please? My dad's making spaghetti for dinner. I know he'd love to have
you."
"Huh. My dad's probably making Fritos."
"Frito…pie?"
"Nah. Just Fritos. Like a bag of 'em?"
"Opie, geez. Stay."
He mulled it over, but finally he shrugged. "Sure, Ollie. I promise I won't try
to kiss you again."
"Good," she said. "I promise I won't either."
He grinned at her, big and bright, and she managed to smile back. She did love
him, but he was right: it wasn't the same. The way Juice made her feel…what
happened when they kissed…it was completely different. Maybe if they'd waited,
like Opie said…? But somehow she doubted it. She knew he was happy with Donna,
and she wanted that for him.
It was better. It had all worked out the way it was meant to.
As long as Olivia could stay out of prison, of course.
He still had his back to her, and she leaned forward to drape her arms over his
shoulders and press her cheek between his shoulder blades. "Where did all this
even come from, Ope?"
There was a silence, but finally he raised a hand to grip hers where they
joined over his chest. "I just needed to say it. Because you coulda—if Ortiz
hadn't been there, or you hadn't stabbed TJ—it coulda gone really bad. And,
it's not like I think it's gonna happen, but I guess there's a chance you
could…"
"Go to prison for the rest of my life," she said when he trailed off.
"It's not gonna happen."
"No," she said. "But it could." She squeezed him. "Thank you for telling me,
Opie. I missed you."
"I know, Oll," he said. "I missed you too."
===============================================================================
Though Olivia was incredibly happy to be home, back in her own bed and eating
her dad's cooking, she barely slept that night. Nightmares haunted her, and
every time she dropped off she woke again with a jerk. At one point she must
have cried out in her sleep, because her dad appeared at the side of her bed.
He sat with her and stroked her hair, just like he used to do when she was
little, and she was finally able to doze off.
Still she was up early the next morning, tired of idleness, but there wasn't
much she could do. She cleaned the house, even though it didn't really need it,
did the laundry, polished the silver, and reorganized the pantry. Finally it
was noon, almost time for visiting hours at the hospital, and as she grabbed
the keys off the hook by the door her dad stopped her and said he would drive
her wherever she wanted, but she wasn't going alone.
She didn't argue with him. She hadn't been thrilled with the idea of leaving
the house by herself, but she was glad it had been his idea rather than hers.
They got to the hospital just as visiting hours were starting, and when Ana saw
Olivia she gave her a tight hug. "I'm so glad to see you, mija. What does your
lawyer say?"
Olivia started to answer, but James forestalled her. "How about I buy you some
lunch, Ana? We'll leave the kids to talk and I'll tell you all about it."
"Good," she said. "Juan Carlos is sleeping, but I'm sure he'll be awake soon.
Just have a seat in the chair and wait."
"Thank you," Olivia said.
She squeezed Olivia's arm and she and James left together. Olivia pushed open
Juice's door and stuck her head in, but he was asleep, like Ana had said. She
sank down in the uncomfortable chair and swiped one of the game magazines off
the bedside table.
It was barely ten minutes before he stirred, and she set the magazine aside as
he opened his eyes. He saw her almost immediately, and his face lit up in his
biggest, sweetest grin.
"Livvie," he said on a breath.
"Hey, baby." She scooted closer and caught her hand in his, but he tugged her
to him.
"Get in with me. Please?"
"Our parents could be back any minute."
"Liv. I've got a catheter and, like, staples. I don't think they'll be worried
we're up to something."
She grinned and pulled the covers back to crawl in next to him. "That means you
need to keep your hands to yourself," she said.
"You don't have a catheter or staples."
A quick kiss to the tip of his nose. "Behave or I'm back in the chair."
"All right, all right. Can I kiss you? For real kiss you? It's been forever."
"You better kiss me, Ortiz, or I'm back in the chair."
His face softened and he ran his fingertip down the slope of her nose. His
thumb over her full lips. "I'm so glad to see you. God, Liv, when they took you
out of here like that—"
"Let's not talk about it, Juicy. Not right now. I don't even want to think
about it."
"Okay," he mumbled before his mouth found hers.
The kisses were clumsy at first, hungry and fumbling, but after a few tries
things smoothed out. His tongue slicked against hers and she curled her fingers
in his t-shirt. He grabbed a handful of her hair while his other palm skimmed
down her body to cup her ass. She wiggled a little; sucked on his lip, and he
pulled away with a rough hiss.
"What?" she said, wide-eyed. "Babe, what?"
"I—uh." He cleared his throat and turned onto his back. "Just, um. Boners and
catheters apparently don't mix. At all."
"Oh," she said and muffled a giggle behind her hand. "Oops?"
"Yeah, you look real sorry." He put an arm around her shoulders and she rested
her head on his chest, the flat plane before it turned into shoulder. Her skull
fit there perfectly, like the spot had been made just for her.
Maybe it had.
He kissed her forehead. "I love you, Olivia. I'm glad you're here."
She smiled and brushed her nose against the side of his neck. "I love you too,
Juan Carlos. There's nowhere else I'd rather be."
They fell quiet. He combed his fingers through her hair and she closed her eyes
to just enjoy the rhythm of his breath and the feel of his heartbeat.
"You're really okay?" he said.
She shifted a little. "I don't know. Define okay. Obviously I'm glad to be out
of jail, but…I'm still being charged with murder, you know? I still…killed
somebody."
"You saved my life, babe. Probably yours, too."
"I know. And I'd trade TJ five thousand times for you."
"But?"
She sighed and turned her head so that her forehead was pressed against him. "I
can't stop thinking about it. I just keep remembering the way it felt, the
knife sinking into him. His blood on my hand. And the smell. That—hot copper
smell—not just his blood, but yours, and the gunpowder and—" She broke off with
a deep, shaky breath and he soothed her with a warm hand on her back.
"Shh, shhh," he whispered. "It's okay, Liv. It's okay. Please don't cry."
"I don't want to cry about it anymore."
"I know you don't."
"I don't want to go to prison for killing TJ, of all people! He was—he
was scum. People should be thanking me!"
"Thank you," he said with a little grin.
She let out a soggy laugh. "Oh, Juicy. I'm so glad you're mine."
"Hum." He twined a lock of her hair around his finger. "I didn't really have
any choice in the matter."
"What's that mean?"
He shrugged. "Just that, you know. I was hooked from the first time I saw you."
"Yeah?" she said.
"Yup. But you know that."
She kissed him, her mouth soft. "It's still nice to hear sometimes."
He brushed the pad of his thumb beneath her eye. "You sleepin' okay, babe?"
"No," she said, "but thanks for pointing that out."
"Please. You're gorgeous. Just kind of tired-looking gorgeous."
"Bad dreams," she said. "Bad dreams and jail."
"Put your head back down," he said. "I'll keep you safe."
"Will you, staples?"
"Yup. Staples ain't gonna slow me down if somebody tries to fuck with my girl."
"My hero," she murmured.
He held her tight with one arm while his free hand captured her fingers to
tangle with his. Her eyes closed again, and with his scent filling her head she
finally drifted off for the first real sleep she'd had since she plunged a
knife into TJ Flanary's back.
Chapter End Notes
     I'm thinking 2 more chapters on this one. One more seems too abrupt,
     but I'm finally past the mental block I had, so let's see what
     happens. :)
     Thanks for sticking with me!
***** Hoping *****
Chapter Summary
     Some surprises in court; Olivia and Juice talk a few things out;
     Olivia's dad drops a bombshell.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                 here we go again with your hair in your face
                              my head in my hands
                hoping to find something that we've never known
                looking like two little kids with our wide eyes
                            slow tenderness, asking
                        saying things that we always do
                        dog's eye view, "Small Wonders"
Time seemed to move quickly after that. Olivia went back to school, and people
whispered about her, but mostly the treated her like a pariah. She was getting
used to that, and it was actually a relief. She stuck close to her friends and
counted down the days until Juice could come back.
Once he finally did they were basically inseparable. It was barely a month
until school was out, and they talked constantly about their summer plans.
Olivia amended everything with "unless I'm in prison," and Juice had started
making a buzzing noise every time she did it, like she'd just gotten the wrong
answer on a game show. Soon the others picked it up and she could barely
mention anything to do with the upcoming trial or TJ or any of it without
hearing that damn buzzing.
"You're all assholes," she told Juice one day.
"You love us," he said, unconcerned.
She sighed and straightened his tie. There was a prelim hearing today for Brian
to file his motions, and while Olivia had told Juice he didn't have to
come—much less dress up—he'd insisted.
"You look nice," she said.
"Thanks." He grinned. "I'm pretty sure Chibs said some of the guys were coming
too."
"This isn't the actual trial," she said with a scowl. "It's just a hearing. A
bunch of bullshit legalese and crap."
"I know, but they said they wanted to be here. I don't know. Chibs had, like—a
thing."
"A thing?"
Juice shrugged. "I don't know," he said again. "It was just a vibe I got."
"Hhmm. I'm not sure if I should be worried or not."
"Maybe," he said. "It's always better to err on the side of worry when it comes
to SAMCRO."
"Wise words, m'love."
There was a brief knock and the door opened. "It's time," Brian said.
Juice kissed her forehead. "I'll see you after."
"Okay," she said. "Love you."
"Love you too." Then he was gone, and Olivia and Brian were alone.
"Don't worry about today," he said. "We might get our motion to dismiss
granted, but it's rare, so if the judge shoots it down it doesn't mean much."
She took a deep breath and smoothed both hands down her skirt. "But there's a
chance?"
"Of course there is. Otherwise I wouldn't be wasting your money and my time
filing it at all. Chin up, Miss Gable. And remember—"
"Polite and humble. Yeah, Mr. Avery. I know."
He smiled, perhaps a bit warily, and they filed into the courtroom. Like Juice
had said, several of the guys from the club were there, as well as Jax, Opie,
and Tara. She smiled at them, just a little, and Tara winked and grinned.
Lang took his place behind the prosecutor's table just before the bailiff
announced the judge. They rose, and Olivia tried to get a peek around Brian at
the DA. He looked rattled. Not as impeccable groomed as usual, and maybe like
he'd been running to get here. His face was flushed and his hair windblown.
"All right, ladies and gentlemen, let's get this over with," the judge said as
she took her seat. "Mr. Avery, your motions?"
"Ah, Your Honor, the State requests the court's attention for a moment?" Lang
said.
The judge cast him a long look, but eventually she nodded. "Go ahead," she
said.
Lang cleared his throat and buttoned his suit jacket. "Your Honor." He paused
and shuffled through some papers on the table.
"Today, please, Mr. Lang."
"Yes, of course. Your Honor, after closer examination of the evidence, the
State of California now believes we acted—ah—in haste when we charged Miss
Gable."
Olivia cast Brian a sharp look, but he rested a hand on her arm before she
could say anything. "If Mr. Lang wishes to amend the charges against my client
he should have said something sooner. The defense hasn't had time to prepare."
"I'm inclined to agree, Mr. Avery. Explain yourself, Mr. Lang."
"At this time the State wishes to drop all charges against Miss Gable," Lang
said in a rush.
The judge blinked and leaned forward. "Did I hear you correctly, Mr. Lang?
You're dropping charges?"
"Yes, Your Honor. That's right."
Her mouth thinned into a sharp line. "You decided this just now. Today? After
Miss Gable was arrested, detained, and arraigned. After her blue-collar,
working-class father had to put up ten thousand dollars in bail to get his
seventeen-year-old daughter out of jail."
Lang cleared his throat and ducked his head. An ugly flush spread across his
cheeks. "The timing is unfortunate, Your Honor," he said, quietly.
She hauled in a long sigh and let it out slowly. Finally her gaze turned to
Olivia. "The State's motion is upheld." She banged her gavel. "Miss Gable,
you're free to go with the court's apologies." She rose and swept from the
courtroom in a flutter of robes, and Olivia felt like someone had just smacked
her in the head.
"Mr. Avery—?"
He wasn't listening. Instead he hustled across the aisle and grabbed Lang
before he could make his exit. "What the hell are you playing at? You realize
this is a young girl's life. You can't just charge her or not all willy-nilly
like it's nothing."
Lang set the clasps on his briefcase and jerked his arm from Brian's grasp.
"Closer examination of the evidence made us realize it was unwise to pursue
prosecution at this time," he said, stiffly.
Olivia's dad clasped her shoulder and she spun toward him. "Daddy, does that
mean—? Is it over? Can we go home?"
"Yeah, pumpkin. I think that's exactly what it means."
Brian joined them a moment later. His face was puckered in concern, but he
nodded. "I don't know what happened. He's right, of course: they didn't have a
case. But up until ten minutes ago he sure seemed to think he did."
Olivia glanced out into the gallery to see Chibs and Tig both grinning like
smug cats. Juice had said there was a thing. Had they threatened the DA with
something? What the hell had they done?
"Come on, sweetheart," James said. "Let's go home." He held out a hand to
Brian. "Thank you, Mr. Avery. For everything."
His head tilted in a wry shrug. "In the end I'm not sure how much I did, but
honestly this is a better outcome than I could've dreamed."
He shook hands with both Olivia and her father, and then James led her out. Her
friends were waiting for her, and as soon as Tara saw her she launched herself
at Olivia.
"Oh my God I can't believe it!" she said.
"I'm kind of in shock, too," Olivia said. "It feels…kinda surreal. Like, all of
that and now it's just over?"
"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Ollie," Jax said. "Sometimes good shit
happens. Enjoy it and don't ask questions."
She cast him a narrow look. "What did—?"
"Lass!" Chibs clapped her on the back and pumped James' hand. "Seems like
justice gets served every once in a while," he said with a wink.
"My mom wants you guys to come over tonight," Jax said to Olivia and James. "To
celebrate, I guess. She's cooking."
Olivia lifted a brow. "What kind of party would it be if the judge had set a
trial date instead?"
Jax hitched a shoulder. "She didn't seem too worried about that."
James glanced at Olivia and she made a face. "Tell Gemma we said thank you,
Jax. Did she have a time in mind?"
"Seven, I guess," he said.
"Seven it is," James said with a resigned sort of sigh.
The group broke up until it was just Olivia and her dad. Juice had wandered
away, but not far, and when Olivia glanced his way her father smiled.
"Go on then," he said.
"I can come home if you need me."
"No, pumpkin, it's all right. I'll see you at Gemma's tonight."
"Okay, Daddy." She hugged him. "Thank you."
He let her go and watched as she skipped over to Juice. Juice's face moved in a
huge grin as she got closer, and his hand caught the one she held out to him.
James turned away with a pained sigh.
He had to tell her soon. It would break her heart, but he knew it was the right
choice. He had to do what was best for her, no matter how much she hated it.
James just hoped she wouldn't hate him for it.
===============================================================================
They didn't drop hands until they got to Juice's bike. He handed Olivia the
extra helmet and she mounted behind him, carefully tucking her skirt under her
thighs.
"Where to, beautiful?" he said.
"Is your mom at work?"
"Yeah, then after she said she'd be helping Gemma. I guess with this party
thing. She told me she wouldn't be home till late."
She kissed his neck. "Your place?"
"Sounds good," he said. He gunned out of the parking lot probably faster than
was smart considering all the cops around, but nobody stopped them. It was a
gorgeous day, bright and sunny, and he took the long way back to the apartment.
He loved the feel of Olivia's arms around him, her body pressed against his
back and her laugh in his ear.
He grabbed her hand again as soon as they were both dismounted, and once they
were upstairs he locked the door behind them and offered her a shy smile.
"Can I get you anything? Somethin' to drink? My mom bought Diet Coke."
Her mouth quirked. Neither Juice nor his mother drank Diet Coke, so it had to
be for her. "That was sweet. Sure, I'll take one."
He grabbed it and a glass of orange juice, then rejoined her in the den. She
opened the can and took a sip as an awkward silence fell.
"Um, so. We could watch a movie if you want. Or, um, I don't know…" He looked
down at his boots. His drink. Anywhere but at her.
"Juice," she said, her voice soft. "Love, is something wrong?"
They hadn't had sex since prom night. Hadn't done more than kiss, really, and
she'd been okay with that. He'd been healing for a lot of the time, and even
once he was well again she didn't want to rush him. But now he was acting
strange, nervous and twitchy. That made her nervous. She fiddled with the tab
on her can and waited as he wrestled with whatever was on his mind.
Finally, "I love you, Olivia."
"I know you do, Juicy. I love you too."
A frown twisted his face. "Listen, I get—" He cleared his throat and drained
his glass before he set it aside. "I get that I fucked up that night. I
shouldn't've left you alone, and I—"
"Whoa, wait. What? Juice, no." She put her can on the counter and took his face
in her hands. "The only person who fucked up that night is TJ."
"I shoulda protected you," he mumbled.
"Baby, you did! If you hadn't hit him who knows what would've happened."
His fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck and his forehead
dropped to rest against hers. "You still having the dreams?"
"Yeah," she said on a shaky breath. "You?"
"Sometimes, yeah. When I wake up I just wanna see you. Touch you. So I know
you're real. Because in my dream it's not me who gets shot and when I wake up I
can't remember what's real. It's like I know…but I don't."
"I know, Juicy. Trust me."
"I can't believe it's over," he said.
"Me neither. Talk about something that doesn't feel real."
"I think the MC did something."
"That's the impression that I get, yep."
"Are you gonna ask?"
She rubbed her thumb along his jaw as she thought it over. "No, I don't think
so. I'm not sure I want to know."
"Jax said—he said his mom and TJ's dad go back a ways. I guess that might sort
of explain it."
"I know that there's no love lost there," she said.
"That's one way to put it," he said with a wry twist to his mouth. Then,
quietly, "You wanna come back to my room?"
She kissed him, warm and soft. "We don't have to do anything if you don't want
to."
"I—I want to, Livvie. I really do, but…" He trailed off with a frown.
"It's okay. I'm not in any hurry." She paused. "I just want to make sure
nothing's wrong. I mean, um. Either, like, physically? Or otherwise."
"Physically?" He looked blank for a second, and when it clicked his eyes went
wide. "Nooo, oh my God, no. Nothing like that. Everything's—everything works
just fine." He shifted his weight and looked away. "I've got these scars now,
you know? I mean, I guess they're sorta badass, but…" He trailed off with a
shrug.
"Do you think—" She took his hand in hers and slid it up her thigh, under her
skirt, so that his fingers traced the raised skin there. "You think I'm worried
about your scars, Juicy? You told me mine are beautiful. You kiss them. For the
first time in my life I'm not ashamed of them. You did that. You."
He blushed. "It's not just that. I don't even know—it's just stupid, I guess."
"No. Whatever it is, it isn't stupid." Their fingers still laced together, she
led him down the hall to his room. Tugged him down next to her on the bed and
smiled, brief and hesitant. "Maybe we need to start over a little."
"What do you mean?" he said.
"You nearly died. I killed someone. Neither of us is the same person we were
before that night. I think maybe we're both kind of, like, worried. Worried
that…the other won't like the new us."
"Nothing could ever change how I feel about you, Olivia."
"That's how I feel too, Juice. Don't you know that?"
"Yeah, I—yeah. Of course."
She just looked at him, and after a moment he let out a rough sigh.
"I'd understand if you didn't want to be with me anymore," he said in a rush.
Her mouth fell open. That wasn't what she'd been expecting. "Juice—" Her voice
caught, and she took a deep breath and tried again. "Juice, you're the only one
I want to be with. It's like you said, about the dreams? Not being sure what's
real? When I wake up and it all feels like it happened five seconds I want to
pick up the phone and call you, no matter what time it is, because I'm afraid
if I don't hear your voice I might go crazy."
"I know," he said. "That's how I feel too. And when we're together I can't stop
touching you, because I'm afraid if I do—"
"You'll disappear. I know." She looked away and swiped at her cheek. "So why
don't you want to have sex with me?"
"I do!" he said. He turned her chin toward him and kissed away a tear. "That's
part of the problem. I want you so bad, Olivia. Crazy bad. And the last thing I
wanna do is hurt you."
"Hurt me?" She sniffled. "Why do you think you'd hurt me?"
He scraped both hands back through his hair and then threw them out in
frustration. "I want to be gentle with you," he said. "I don't wanna scare you
or hurt you. Except—I'm afraid if I got my hands on you right now, I'd—I'd do
thinks you wouldn't like."
"Ohh," she said on a long exhale. She stilled one of his hands with hers and
their fingers twined together. A blush crept over her face. "What, um. What
kind of things?"
"Um." He ducked his head and tugged at a string on his blanket. "Like, um…hold
you down, maybe? Like, uh. Hold your wrists. Above your head kind of? And
just—God, Olivia, I wanna fuck you so hard."
She shifted so that she was facing him, and her teeth sank into her lower lip.
"What makes you think I wouldn't like that?"
His head came up. "You like to be in charge. I know that. I like it…a lot…but
for some reason ever since that night I just wanna—" He broke off with a
confused shrug.
"Fuck me hard," she said.
"Yeah," he breathed. "God yeah."
She leaned a little closer, and when she spoke her breath was warm on his neck.
"Fuck me until I scream, Juicy?" she murmured. "Make me beg for you?"
He choked out a strangled gasp. "Olivia—"
She slid off the bed and unbuttoned her dress. Slipped it off her shoulders so
that she stood in just her bra and panties. She straddled his thighs and
reached behind her to unclasp her bra. "I'm yours, Juan Carlos. That means I
trust you. Do what you want."
His hands hovered in midair like he couldn't quite bring himself to touch her.
He dug his teeth into his lip and let his eyes rake the length of her body
before they met hers. "I don't want to be gentle right now, Liv," he said in a
rough voice.
"Good," she said. "I'm not looking for gentle."
"Goddamn," he said, almost a growl, and he grasped her waist and hauled her to
him. She stumbled and almost fell, but he caught her to keep her upright. He
kissed her tummy, circled his tongue around her bellybutton, and sucked in a
mouthful of soft flesh. He yanked her down so that she sat on his thighs, and
her eyes were wide when she felt his erection.
His fingers tangled in her hair and he tugged her head back to mouth her
throat, down to her collarbones, and his teeth were sharp against her skin.
"Juicy," she breathed. "God, Juicy, need you so bad!" She hadn't even realized
how much until he had his hands on her, but now it was like she wondered how
she'd kept breathing these past weeks.
He pulled her legs up around him and then flipped them both over. He kissed a
trail down her chest, along the curve of her breast, and as his lips closed
around her nipple her back arched and her nails dug into his shoulder. He moved
on, to her stomach, but when he reached her hip he paused.
"Juice?" she said.
His head was bent, his forehead pressed against her hip, and after a moment his
shoulders shook.
"Juice!" she said, alarmed. "Baby, what—?"
"I'm sorry, Livvie," he said, his voice muffled and thick. "I'm so sorry. It
shoulda been me. You shouldn't've had to do that. I'm so sorry."
"No, no, no." She sat up and wrapped her arms around him. "You don't have
anything to be sorry for, sweetheart. Nothing. I'm sorry he got a shot off. I
should've—I don't know. Stabbed him harder? I don't know."
He gathered her against his chest and they held each other as they cried. "I
love you so much," he said.
"I love you too, Juicy. Nothing will ever change that."
He pushed away. "I got you something. I was gonna give it to you that night,
but—"
"I killed somebody and sort of ruined our evening."
"Basically, yeah," he said with half a grin.
"Jerk."
"Hold that thought at least until you see it." He got up to dig through a
drawer in his bureau, and when he came back he held a small black box. "It's
not much," he said, suddenly shy. "I just—it kind of reminded me of you."
She opened the box to find a necklace: thin silver chain with a teardrop shaped
stone, wrapped in delicate silver wire. "Oh," she said, breathless. She pulled
it out and turned it this way and that to watch fire dance in the stone's
depths.
"It's an opal," he said. "Your birthstone. Kinda—kinda cheesy, I guess, but…"
"No," she said. "No, Juicy, it's perfect." She gathered her hair and handed him
the necklace. "Help me put it on?"
He grinned and moved behind her to work the clasp. "Got it," he said after a
moment.
She got up to look in the mirror. The opal rested just below the hollow of her
throat, and she touched it with trembling fingers. "It's beautiful," she
whispered.
"It's okay," he said from over her shoulder. "You're beautiful."
"Charmer," she said. She turned around and he caught her in a long kiss. She
unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, before she went for his
belt. When he was down to just his boxer briefs he took her hand led her to the
bed.
They crawled in together and she curled up against him. He wrapped himself
around her and inhaled the sweet scent at the curve of her neck. His hands were
warm and gentle as he stroked her back.
"I love you," she said, her voice sleepy.
"I love you too," he said. He planted a soft kiss on her temple.
"Still wanna fuck me, Ortiz?"
"Nah." He wiggled a little so she could feel his hard-on. "Not at all."
She smirked. "Good to know."
He bit her shoulder. "Get some rest, Livvie. I'll be here when you wake up."
"You too, Juicy. Fall asleep with me."
"Yeah, babe," he said. "That's the plan."
===============================================================================
It was Saturday, but Olivia was up early anyway. She had a ton of schoolwork to
catch up on, and exams were right around the corner. She wanted to make honor
roll again, in the hopes it would earn her the Cougar back, but she had a lot
of work to do if that was going to happen.
It had been a rocky semester, to say the least.
She was surprised when her dad appeared from his bedroom, bleary-eyed and
stumbling. He rubbed a hand through his hair so that it stuck up all around his
head and barely acknowledged her greeting. A moment later she heard the
coffeemaker start, and when she saw him again he held a steaming mug in one
hand and a doughnut in the other.
"Morning, sunshine," she said.
"Ollie, promise me something," he said as he sank down into the chair.
"Anything, Daddy."
"Don't let me drink like that. Ever. I think there's a marching band in my
skull."
She frowned and took the coffee and pastry from him. "This won't help anything.
Come on; I'll make you a bacon sandwich."
"Oh, pumpkin, not the bacon sandwich thing again."
"Trust me!" she said. "It's science." She dragged him into the kitchen and got
him settled before she poured a glass of orange juice. He drank it slowly,
grimacing and giving long, melodramatic sighs the whole time, but she ignored
him and worked on his sandwich.
"Can't believe there were so many people there last night," he said.
She dropped two Alka-Seltzer into a glass of water and set it in front of him.
"I don't really think they all care about the ruling; they were just looking
for an excuse to drink and eat Gemma's cooking."
"Probably," he said with a grunt. "Still, it was a nice thing to do. Gemma, I
mean. Having the party at all."
"Hhmm." She put four slices of bacon onto some bread and handed him the plate.
"Kinda weird, though. Her planning something like that before we even found out
what the judge would say. Mr. Avery seemed doubtful that his motion would pass,
then here comes the DA all in a lather…" She trailed off with a shrug and sat
down across from him.
"Yeah," he said after a moment. "I asked Chibs about that." He picked at his
sandwich, but at her glare he took a bite and chewed slowly.
"What did he say?"
James shrugged and finished off his Alka-Seltzer. "Pretty sure the MC did or
said something to Teddy Flanary. You know he and Gemma dated back before she
met JT?"
"So I've heard."
"I guess he wasn't all that nice, either. Like his son."
She sipped her own orange juice and they fell quiet as he ate. "Do you think—"
She frowned. "Dad, should I feel guilty for being glad they did it?"
"I don't know, pumpkin," he said, finally. "I'm glad it's all over. We all know
they didn't have a case." He paused. "When you think about it, the only reason
Lang was pursuing it was because of the Flanarys' influence, so it's almost
fitting that he dropped it for the same reason."
He finished the last few bites and pushed his plate away. "Having said that, as
your father I feel it's necessary to remind you that bullying and blackmail—or
whatever they did—isn't the way to get what you want."
Her mouth moved in a brief smile. "I know, Daddy." Then, her grin deepening,
"Feeling any better?"
"Yeah, a little," he said, sounding surprised. "Can I have my coffee now?"
She poured him a fresh mug and doctored it to his liking. "Go slow, though.
It'll just upset your stomach."
"You worry too much, pumpkin."
"Someone has to," she said.
"Olivia—" She leaned against the counter, arms crossed over her stomach.
"Sweetheart, sit down. I need to talk to you about something."
His tone made her brow furrow, but after a moment she did as he asked. "What's
up, Daddy?"
He reached across the table and took her hand in his. "That's a pretty
necklace. Is it new?"
She brushed her fingers over it and dropped her chin to hide a blush. "Juice
gave it to me yesterday. But I don't think it's my jewelry you want to talk
about. Is it?"
"No, honey. It's not." He hesitated, unsure how to even broach the topic.
"Ollie, you know you're the most important thing in my life, don't you?"
"Of course." He was worrying her. "Is something wrong? Please just tell me."
"Flanary is trying to figure out a way to fire me from the mill."
She made a low noise of annoyance: they couldn't fire James outright because he
was protected by the union, but they could do everything to make his life
miserable, including cutting his hours and writing him up for stupid, petty
shit.
"The good news is I found another job. It's for more money, slightly better
hours, and it's still union."
"Oh!" she said. "That's great news, Daddy!" Her bright smile faded as his words
sank in. If there were good news, it probably meant there was bad news, too.
He studied her face and braced himself for the coming storm. "It's in West
Virginia," he said.
She blinked, completely unable to make sense of it. "Dad—Dad, that's like—a
thousand miles away. The other side of the country. I can't—we can't—West
Virginia?"
"I know, sweetheart. I was waiting until we knew something more about the trial
and everything before I accepted or turned them down, but yesterday after court
I called and said I would take it. It's a good job, Olivia. The cost of living
is lower there, too. I won't have to work nearly as much, and—"
"Dad! It's on the other side of the country! My entire life is here! School, my
friends, my job. Juice!" Her voice cracked on the last word and she yanked her
hand away from him. "You can't make me leave, Daddy! Not after everything!"
"Everything that's happened is exactly why we have to go. You can't tell me
school's been good for you these past few months. I know you love your friends,
but I'm concerned about your growing involvement with SAMCRO. As grateful to
them as I am for everything they've done for us since this nonsense with TJ, it
makes me nervous. I don't want them that involved in our lives."
"Oh my God," she said. Tears coursed down her cheeks, but she didn't even
notice she was crying. "I can deal with school, Dad. I've dealt with it so far.
You can't move us before my senior year! That's crazy!"
"Olivia." His voice was stern. "You know I would do anything to spare you from
getting hurt, and I know it seems like this is just the opposite—but it's not,
pumpkin. I promise you. Leaving Charming is the best thing for both of us."
He softened and reached for her again, but she batted him away. He sighed. "I
know it seems like the end of the world right now, and that you'll never love
anyone like you love Juice, but you're seventeen. Everything feels like the end
of the world when you're seventeen."
She shoved away from the table and scrambled to her feet. "You met mom when you
were seventeen, so don't treat me like I'm some dumb kid!"
"That's not what I'm trying to do. I just want you to understand—"
"I don't need to understand! I'm not going. I'll move in with Tara, or even
Jax. I'm not going!"
"Sweetheart—"
"No!" she cried. "I'm not going and you can't make me! I don't care. I don't
care about any of it! I'm staying here and that's final!"
He knew there was no point in arguing with her about it now. She was nearly
hysterical. Once she calmed down they could have a rational conversation about
it. Obviously she wasn't staying here; that wasn't even an option; and he knew
she would come around. Not to the idea itself—he wasn't stupid, and he knew his
daughter well—but at least to the point they could discuss it.
"Okay, Olivia," he said at last. "I'll give you some time with this. By dinner
I hope you will have calmed down some so we can talk."
"I'm not—" She broke off and bit her lip hard. "I'm going to my room," she
said. "I don't think there's anything to talk about."
With that she stormed off, and he heard her door slam. That could have gone
better, he thought with a rueful frown. But, really. What else had he expected?
Chapter End Notes
     I'm thinking 1-2 more chapters on this one, kids. Then it'll be on to
     the sequel. ;)
***** Blue and Black *****
Chapter Summary
     Olivia tells Tara her father's news, and later she has to figure out
     how to tell Juice.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                       where the touch of the lover ends
                       and the soul of the friend begins
              there's a need to be separate and a need to be one
                          and a struggle neither wins
                     where you gave me the world i was in
                       and a place i could make a stand
                     i could never see how you doubted me
                         when i'd let go of your hand
                     Jackson Browne, "Sky Blue and Black"
Olivia was in a blind panic. She couldn't leave Charming. There was no way it
was too crazy to even think about. How could she leave Tara? Opie? Juice?
"Oh God," she whispered. She pressed both hands to her mouth to try to muffle
her sobs. She knew crying wouldn't help anything, but lately she'd been such a
fucking basket case.
Once she had herself under some semblance of control she grabbed the phone and
dialed Juice's number.
"Hey," she said when he answered. "Hey, listen, are you busy?"
"Liv? Have you been crying? What's wrong?"
"Please, Juicy, I just—I need to see you, okay? It's important."
He sounded almost as rattled as she felt. "Yeah, of course. I'll leave now."
"Come to Tara's. I have to get out of here."
"Olivia—"
"Please. I can't talk about it over the phone."
There was a long pause, and she could tell he wasn't happy about it, but
finally he said, "Okay. I'll be there soon."
She hung up and threw on some clothes that she could be seen in, and as she
crossed the living room her dad called out from the kitchen.
"Olivia?"
"Going out," she said. "I'll be back later."
He followed her to the foyer and watched with a frown as she got her jacket
from the hall closet. "Take the Cougar, sweetie," he said.
"It's fine. I'm just going to Tara's."
"I have to go to Home Depot later, so I'll need the truck. It's okay; you can
take the Cougar."
She had her hand on the doorknob and her shoulders were tense. "I'll walk."
"It's almost three miles, and I'm not sure I want you out on the street."
"Fine," she said through gritted teeth. She took the keys from the hook and
slammed the door behind her. If he thought he was going to bribe her with the
fucking car he had another thing coming. This was not a bribable situation.
The Cutlass was in the driveway when she got to Tara's, so that was good. She
maybe should've called first. If Tara's dad were on a bender he wouldn't like
random visitors on a Saturday morning. Olivia knocked and waited, and after a
bit Tara came to the door.
Her eyes went wide when she saw Olivia. "What's wrong?" she said.
"Is your dad here?"
"No. He didn't come home last night. Again."
Olivia grabbed Tara's arm and dragged her into the house. "I've got a problem."
"Yeah, I can see that. Sit down. Tell me what's up."
Olivia couldn't sit. Instead she paced, lap after lap, carefully dodging the
piles of newspapers and magazines Tara's dad refused to throw away. Tara
perched on the edge of the couch and watched her.
"My dad wants us to move to West Virginia," she spat.
Tara blinked. "Wait. What?"
Olivia stopped pacing and dropped down next to Tara. "He got a job, a better
job I guess, and it's in West Virginia."
"But, Ollie—your dad has a job! Here. At the mill here. In Charming."
Tara's voice rose with each word until she hit Charming and it cracked.
"He can't keep working at the mill. TJ's dad is on a mission to fire him, or
make him quit, and it's gotten really awful."
"Okay." Tara took a deep, shaking breath. "Okay, so, maybe he can work at TM
until he finds something else. I know Gemma would take him on. He's a great
mechanic, and—"
"That'd probably go over like a lead balloon." Olivia slumped so that her
elbows rested on her knees. "He also doesn't like how close the club's gotten,
paying for my lawyer and helping with the bail and everything. And then
whatever they did to get the DA to drop the charges. He's grateful; I mean, we
both are; but he's freaked out about it."
"Holy shit," Tara said. "Have you told Juice?"
Olivia buried her face in her hands and her shoulders shook as sobs overtook
her again. Tara felt frozen. This was the second time in six months Olivia had
cried over a guy, but Tara knew this time was completely different. She put an
arm around her friend and pulled her close.
"I'll take that as a no," she said.
"I asked him to come over here. I called him, I mean, before I left. I hope
that's okay. I didn't want him coming by my house. I think—I think maybe he's
part of why Dad's doing this."
"I thought he liked Juice."
Olivia gave a soggy nod. "He does. I know he does. I just think—Juice works at
TM and is best friends with Opie and Jax and rides a motorcycle. Now his mom
works at TM, too, and I think my dad thinks him patching into SAMCRO one day is
sort of inevitable."
"He doesn't want his little girl to be an old lady."
"Exactly." She sniffed hard and wiped at her eyes. "He was okay with Opie
because I guess he knew…but like with Juice…"
"He knows how much you love him. Maybe he'll change his mind. You're gonna be a
senior; he can't move you before your senior year. And what about me? What am I
gonna do without you?"
That set off fresh tears, and this time Tara joined her. They fell against each
other, both crying. "I know," Olivia said, her voice almost incomprehensible.
"I told him that. All of it. He's made up his mind and I don't think he'll
change it."
"Ollie!"
"I know! But like everything I say for reasons why we can't go are all reasons
he has why we should. I'm too close to the club, school's been hell this year,
I killed somebody."
That made Tara snort with laughter.
"It's not funny!"
"It's a little funny."
"Shut up. I hate you."
"Liar," Tara said. "You love me." She paused. "You could come stay with me.
Like, maybe just through senior year? Then we'd both be off to college anyway,
so…?"
"Yeah, I kinda said that to him. Or Jax, because I'm sure Gemma would take me
in. Which, yeah, he'd love the hell outta that."
"My dad wouldn't care. It'd be great. We'd be like for-real sisters then."
Their eyes met, and they both knew it was just a dream. A great dream, the sort
of dream that kept you going when you thought you couldn't, but still just a
dream.
"Tara—"
"Don't," she said. "Don't say anything. Let's pretend, okay? We'll pretend that
you'll stay here with me and then we'll go to college near each other and I
become a world-renowned surgeon and you become the hottest, most celebrated
sculptor of our generation, then we come back to Charming and I marry Jax and
you marry Juice and Donna and Opie get married and our guys run SAMCRO the way
it's meant to be run, while we hold the reins in the background."
"That's a lot of pretending," Olivia said with a sad smile.
"We can do it." Tara laced her fingers through Olivia's and squeezed hard.
"It's true our capacity for self-delusion is high."
"Ollie, come on! There's a chance he could change his mind. Right? If you
explain to him how important it is for you to finish out high school here, with
us. And how, like, basically the only thing that's gotten you through the last
year has been your amazing and wonderful friends, especially your college-and-
med-school-bound best friend Tara Knowles."
"He could." She bit her lip and felt a tiny spark of hope. "I hadn't thought of
that part. You guys helped me get past the accident and all of that bullshit,
too. If I'd had to deal with any of it alone—" She broke off. "SAMCRO or not,
that's gotta mean something."
"Yes! Just explain it all out, calmly and rationally. Your dad's not a tyrant.
He'll listen."
Olivia opened her mouth to reply, but the doorbell interrupted her. "That's
probably Juice," she said. She wrapped her arms around Tara and they hugged for
a long time. "Is it okay if I leave the Cougar here? I think we need to talk
this over alone."
"Yeah, of course." One last embrace and Tara went to answer the door.
"Hey," Juice said, his brow furrowing when he saw her. "Olivia called and
said—oh."
Tara had opened the door wider and stepped aside, and Juice's eyes darted from
Olivia to Tara and back again. It was clear they'd both been crying. Whatever
was going on it wasn't good, and Juice felt fear like an ache in the pit of his
stomach.
Olivia stepped out and took Juice's hand. "Come on," she said. "Let's go for a
ride."
He cast a questioning look at Tara, and she just nodded. "I'm gonna call Jax.
Okay, Ollie?"
Olivia hesitated, but after a moment she nodded. She really didn't want to have
to break this news to anyone else. If Tara told Jax, Jax would tell Opie, and
then everyone important would know. Gemma. Someone would need to tell Gemma.
She'd have to give notice and—
"Liv?" Juice said.
"I'm okay," she said. "Let's just get out of here."
He frowned and passed her the helmet. Clearly she wasn't anywhere near fine,
but he knew she wasn't going to tell him until she was ready. She got settled
in behind him and they both offered a wave to Tara before Juice took off.
He headed for the pines without thinking about it, or asking her. His mom was
home so they couldn't go there, and her dad must be around or she would've just
asked him to come to her place. It was obvious she wanted some privacy, and the
pines was their place.
No scenic route today: he went straight there, and when they dismounted he
grabbed a blanket from stowage and they climbed the hill in silence. He spread
it out and they both sat. They still hadn't spoken; her movements were stiff
and jerky; and he felt stretched tight like a bowstring.
Suddenly she turned and kissed him, hard and desperate. Her teeth sank into his
lower lip and he pulled back with a surprised gasp.
"Olivia—"
"Don't talk," she said. "Please. I just want you."
She was all over him, in his lap with her hands under his t-shirt and her mouth
on his neck. She bit him again, harder, and his hiss turned into a groan. She
sat back and stripped off her shirt and bra, then was kissing him again. He
grasped her shoulders and tried to push her away, but she wasn't having it.
"Liv, Olivia, baby, what's going on? What's wrong? Please—"
"Juice. You told me yesterday you want me. Is that true or not?"
"Of course it's true, but—"
"We can talk later. Right now I need you to fuck me." She ran her tongue around
his ear and bit the corner of his jaw. "Hard, Juicy. Please, God, I need it so
bad."
"I didn't bring any condoms," he said even as he helped her get his shirt over
his head.
"Don't care. On the Pill, remember?"
She pushed him onto his back and he flipped them over so that he was above her.
She let out a rough breath as he nipped at her throat and kissed lower, down
her chest. He sucked her soft skin into his mouth, heedless of the red marks
that appeared in his wake. His lips closed around her nipple while his hands
worked the button on her jeans. He got them undone and she wiggled out of them,
kicking them away with a frustrated grunt.
The jingle of his belt buckle and grate of zipper seemed far away as he kissed
her, his tongue plunging in and out of her mouth. She wrapped her legs around
him and bucked up into him. He groaned against her lips, frustration and lust,
and reached between them to strip her panties away. She shoved his shorts down
and wrapped her hand around his erection as he thrust two fingers into her.
"Juicy!" she cried. "I need your cock, baby, please!"
"Nuh uh," he said, a deep rasp. "Gonna make you come like this first. You're
mine, remember? That means right now I decide. Just me. No one else."
She rocked her hips with a needy moan and he brushed his thumb across her clit.
He curled his fingers inside her and let her set the rhythm she wanted.
"Say it, Livvie. Wanna hear you say it." He swirled his tongue against the spot
where the pulse pounded in her throat. Bit down.
"I'm yours," she gasped. "I'm yours, Juan Carlos, only yours."
"That's right," he said. "That's it, baby." He rubbed her clit harder, faster,
teasing flicks and long strokes, until she writhed beneath him.
"God, Juicy, oh my God, please, please!"
"You like that, Livvie? You gonna come for me?"
"Yes yes, don't stop!"
Their eyes met and he cupped her face as he kissed her. He swallowed her eager
moans and tapped his fingertips against her G-spot. Pressed deep, wiggling his
fingers and curling and straightening them, until she jerked against his hand.
His thumb still worked her clit and she buried her face in the side of his
neck, her nails digging into his back, as she chanted his name.
"Juice, Juicy, yes, Juan Carlos, yes yes yes!" He groaned when he felt her
clench around him, and he didn't let up on her clit as the orgasm gripped her.
She shuddered and begged and and still he didn't stop; every twist of his
fingers or flick of his thumb set her off again.
Finally she grabbed his wrist. He smirked and curled his fingers one last time
before he pulled away. "Feel better?" he said, planting a soft kiss on her
temple.
"Uh huh," she said with a vague sort of nod. "A little." She turned to bury her
face in his chest. "Tell me you love me, no matter what."
"Olivia, sweetheart—" He sighed. "Of course I do. I love you no matter what."
"Good," she mumbled. She pressed him into the blanket and straddled his hips.
His hands fell to rest on her waist, and he squeezed a little. She ran her
finger down the center of his chest and her mouth curved in a teasing smile.
His erection was big and hot between her thighs, and he let out a strangled
breath as she rocked against him.
"Babe," he said, "tell me what you want."
"You know what I want, Juicy." She dug her nails into his skin. "That was so
good, baby. You made me come so hard."
He smirked. "I know I did."
She bit her lip around a teasing grin. "Do it again."
"You're the most demanding girlfriend I've ever had," he said, his eyes
sparkling with a combination of humor and excitement.
She leaned down, her breasts brushing his chest, and let her mouth hover over
his, just out of reach. "Are you complaining?"
He flipped them again, swallowed her surprised laugh with his kiss, and sank
down between her legs. "God no," he said. He slid into her, long and slow, and
her body arched on a groan.
"Yes," she said, drawing it out into a hungry, sibilant hiss. Her legs wrapped
around his thighs to pin him against her, and he rocked deep. "So good, Juicy."
"Love you so much, Livvie," he said, dropping tiny kisses over her face: her
forehead, the tip of her nose, her closed eyelids. "You feel incredible. Missed
you, baby, God I missed you."
"I know, love; I missed you too."
He ground into her and caught her hot breath with his mouth. Nibbled on her lip
and slipped his arms underneath her to gather her even closer.
"Please, Juan Carlos, please. Harder!"
"Shhh," he murmured. He nuzzled the side of her neck and kissed her there. "I
got you, Livvie. Just let me."
She shivered as she opened her eyes. His expression was intense, his movements
easy and sweet, and every time his pelvis rocked into hers she felt a lick of
heat from her clit through her whole body. She whimpered and and tried to buck
against him, but he pressed his lips to the spot just behind her ear and
whispered her name.
"Shhh, it's okay. It's good. Just like this."
But it was too much. Too intense. Too intimate. A rough fuck she could handle,
but this? It was everything she'd be leaving behind, everything she'd never
known she'd wanted and would be losing.
But God it was so good and she loved him so much and—
"That's right, sweetheart," he said. "Just like that."
She moved with him, rolling her hips to take him deeper, and his eyes were
steady on hers. He grasped one of her hands and held it above her head, their
fingers entwined and their palms pressed tight.
"I love you," she gasped. "I love you. Always, Juicy. I'm yours."
"I know," he said. His own breath came in unsteady gasps, and she could feel
his smile when they kissed. "I'm yours, Liv. No matter what."
She let out a soft cry as he picked up speed and the heat built like an ache.
He kissed the furrow in her brow and her soft mouth.
"That's right, baby," he said. "That's it, that's so good, wanna feel you come,
need to feel you come all over my cock. Please, Livvie, goddamn please!"
Her fingers tangled in his hair, and as he ground into her clit again the
orgasm rolled through her, like submerging in a hot bath. She went tight around
him and her body undulated beneath him, and at the sound of her high-pitched
keens he knew he couldn't hold on.
"Yes, Juicy," she breathed, "please please!"
He let out a rough cry and spilled into her. Her eyes went wide at the feeling.
She moaned and he forgot himself and slammed into her.
"Livvie!" he groaned.
She lifted off the blanket to meet him and he felt her come again as his own
orgasm began to wane.
He held her tight while she trembled, and when her fingers loosened in his hair
and her arm fell boneless beside her he collapsed. She took his weight with a
little oof, and when he tried to move she wrapped herself around him.
Lifting his head from her shoulder, his eyes went wide when he saw her face.
She was crying. Silent tears coursed down her cheeks, and he could feel her
body shaking from it.
"Olivia," he said. He rolled over to lie beside her and gathered her close. She
felt so small, delicate and fragile, and he was afraid to squeeze too hard or
she might shatter. "Please tell me what's wrong, sweetheart."
"I don't want to lose you, Juice," she said through her sobs.
"You won't, Liv. Never. I'm yours as long as you'll have me."
"I'm leaving," she said, her voice so garbled he couldn't understand her. "He's
not gonna change his mind and we're gonna leave and we might never see each
other again and I don't know what to do!"
"Wait." He took her by the shoulders and pushed her away just a little, enough
to see her face. "Wait, Liv, what are you talking about?"
She took a deep breath and tried to pull herself together. "My dad, Juice. He's
moving us to West Virginia. He thinks the MC is a bad influence and that all
the shit that's gone down with TJ is fucking with me at school and…honestly, I
think he's worried about how close we are, and how close you are with Jax and
Opie."
"And SAMCRO," he said.
"Yeah."
"Jesus." He sat up and ran both hands through his hair. "Jesus, Olivia. When?
When are you leaving?"
"I don't know." She sat up too, curling her legs underneath her. "I think maybe
as soon as school's over? He's got a job over there, so they're waiting for
him."
"That's like three weeks!"
There wasn't anything she could say to that, so she just nodded even though he
faced away from her. He surged to his feet and paced, heedless of the twigs
beneath his bare feet.
"Did you talk to him?" he said. "Did you tell him you can't go, that—that—your
whole life is here, like school and your friends and—and me?"
"Of course I did, Juice! I told him all of that. But like I told Tara, I think
everything I said just made him more determined."
"Shit." He dropped back to his knees and pressed shaking hands to his face.
"Shit, Livvie," he said, and she could hear the tears in his voice. Suddenly he
straightened again. "We'll run away. I've got money saved from working at TM,
and we can just get on my bike and go. You and me, baby."
She brushed her fingers over his face. "Juicy, you can't run away. Your mom?"
"Oh…fuck." He took a deep breath. "Okay, so…it's only like a year, right? In a
year you can come back over here for college, or we can both go somewhere
that's close together. In the meantime we can IM and email and sometimes talk
on the phone. Maybe at Christmas you can come visit, or if your dad still wants
to keep you away from the MC I can go out there."
He reached for her and she fell against him. He ran a hand through her hair and
kissed her forehead. "I'm not gonna lose you, Liv. I swear."
"I know, Juan Carlos," she said, her voice soft and sad. "I won't lose you,
either."
"We'll figure it out, Olivia. You believe me, don't you?"
"I do," she said. "Of course I do."
And she did, because she knew he meant it. But she also knew how things worked,
and they so rarely seemed to work out for her. Or for him, either. She wanted
to be with him forever, but she was a realist: she was moving hundreds of miles
away and they were both just stupid kids. In high school. Girls would be
throwing themselves at him and she couldn't expect him to be a monk.
"Come on," he said. "Let's get dressed and I'll take you home. We can talk to
your dad together. I get how he must feel. He told me once he trusted you with
me, and I fucked it up."
"Juice, you didn't—"
"I did, Liv. From his point of view, and from mine, I totally did."
"Doesn't anyone care about my point of view?"
"Yup," he said. "But sometimes shit just doesn't make sense. It's the human
condition."
===============================================================================
The truck was in the driveway when they got to Olivia's house, and as they
dismounted Juice grabbed her hand in his.
"It's gonna be okay," he said.
She nodded and tried to smile, and they walked to the house together. Her dad
was in the living room, and he looked up in surprise when he saw them.
"I didn't hear the Cougar," he said.
"I left it at Tara's. Juice and I needed to talk."
James put the ball game he was watching on mute. "Come sit down, pumpkin. You
too, Juice."
Olivia sank down next to him on the couch while Juice took the chair. "I'm
sorry about how I acted earlier, Daddy," Olivia said. "You just—you surprised
me."
"I understand, Ollie. It's a big deal, and it's natural you'd be upset." His
eyes darted between Juice and Olivia. "You seem calmer now."
She took a deep breath, but Juice made a quick gesture. She frowned at him. He
tilted his head. Finally she lifted her hand and he took that as permission to
continue.
"Mr. Gable, you told me once that you trusted Olivia with me. After what
happened on prom night I feel like I betrayed that trust."
James studied him for a long time. "What TJ did wasn't your fault, Juice. You
took a bullet for my daughter."
Juice ducked his head, clearly embarrassed. "Not exactly. I know I should've
protected her better, and I don't blame you for being upset."
James waved him quiet. "I'm not angry with you. Not in the least. I'm her
father, and I'm the one who never noticed how bad things had gotten with TJ."
He looked at Olivia, a sad smile softening his features. "I've let a lot of
things slip through the cracks recently."
"Dad, no—"
"Yeah, I have. That's why this move is a good idea. Better hours, like I told
you this morning, and I'll have more time to spend with you. It's a chance to
start over, pumpkin, away from Charming and all the crap you've been dealing
with since Christmas."
Olivia cut a look at Juice. "Dad, I think you know how Juice and I feel about
each other."
"I do," he said, "and I appreciate that. But you're seventeen, Olivia. I know
what you're going to say: I met your mother when we were seventeen. That's
true, but it was different."
"How?" she said with a scowl. "How exactly was it different?"
He lifted his hands in a shrug. "For one, there wasn't an outlaw motorcycle
gang in the mix."
"I'm not involved with SAMCRO, Mr. Gable."
"You are, Juice. Right now you might not have any intention of patching in or
prospecting, but you work at the garage. Your two best friends are second
generation. You are involved with SAMCRO, and I don't want my daughter pulled
any deeper than she already has been."
"We're getting sidetracked," Olivia said. "Look, Daddy, I wanted to tell you
I'm not happy about it, but I'm not going to fight you anymore on this moving
thing."
He gave her a mild look. "How generous of you."
His dry tone reminded Juice so much of Olivia he couldn't hold back a laugh.
She cast him an exasperated glare. "I just mean—I love Juice, and I love my
friends, but you…" She swallowed around a lump in her throat. "You're my
family. Since we lost Mom it's been you and me. We've got each other's backs,
right?"
James reached for her hand and squeezed hard. "How do you feel about it,
Juice?" he said after a moment.
"I just want her to be happy, sir. I mean, yeah, I want her to stay, but…" He
clenched one hand around the other and the muscles in his jaw danced. "I'm not
sure Charming's real good for her anymore."
"Juice…?"
"He's right, Liv," Juice said. "About school and stuff. And the MC. Maybe even
right about me; I don't know. Whatever they did got the DA to drop the charges,
but I seriously doubt TJ's dad is just gonna shut up. He had enough pull with
the school board to get Mr. Collins fired without a hearing or anything; who
knows what he could get up to."
He pushed himself to his feet. "I'll let you guys talk," he said. "I just
wanted you to know how I feel about Olivia, Mr. Gable. She's—she's real
special, and she deserves the best." He smiled at her and bent to kiss her
cheek, and when she started to get up he shook his head. "Stay. I know the way
out."
James stood and followed Juice to the door. They shook hands, and a few moments
later Olivia heard his bike start up. Her father leaned against the doorjamb,
arms crossed over his chest, and studied her.
"Maybe I misjudged him a bit," he said after a time.
"He's a good guy, Dad."
He sighed and dropped down next to her. She didn't resist when he put an arm
around her shoulders, and after a moment she leaned into him. "I love you,
Ollie. This fresh start is a good thing. I promise."
"I know, Daddy," she said, her voice small. "I just wish fresh starts didn't
hurt so much."
He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "What can I do to make it easier?"
"I don't know. I don't think anything."
"Ice cream? Would ice cream help? Even just temporarily? A minor stopgap."
Her mouth quirked, just a little. "Ice cream never hurts."
"That's my girl," he said. "Come on. We'll hit up Ice Cream Palace and then
I'll drop you by Tara's to get the Cougar."
She took his hand and let him help her stand. Before he could let go she threw
her arms around him and hugged tight. "I'm sorry, Daddy. Really. I was a jerk
this morning."
"I probably would've reacted the same way in your place. But thanks for saying
it." He mussed her hair. "Now let's go. I want my ice cream."
Chapter End Notes
     For sure one more after this, then we'll be done. :)
     I will be writing a sequel, tho. So there's that.
***** Sunlight and Shadows *****
Chapter Summary
     Sad goodbyes all around.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                          you're the color of the sky
                   reflected in each store-front window pane
                     you're the whispering and the sighing
                            of my tires in the rain
               you're the hidden cost and the thing that's lost
                              in everything I do
                   yeah and i'll never stop looking for you
                        in the sunlight and the shadows
                          and the faces on the avenue
                     Jackson Browne, "Sky Blue and Black"
It was Thursday, and Olivia had managed to go the whole week without crying. It
hadn't been easy, especially since Tara seemed on the verge of tears nearly
every time they talked, and Olivia and Juice…didn't talk, really. They just sat
together, quietly, usually with her pressed against him and his fingers tangled
in her hair. Sometimes they kissed. Sometimes they touched each other, hands
and mouths exploring skin like their impending separation had instilled a new
sense of wonder and need to know.
When they did speak it was never about the future. It was I love you and are
you hungry? and don't forget your umbrella it's raining. Neither of them wanted
to waste a single moment together worrying about what it would be like when
they were apart. That didn't matter. Only now. Only here.
Gemma had offered to give them both some time off before she had to leave, but
neither accepted. Olivia wanted to work up until the last day, to enjoy Teller-
Morrow and the guys and the job itself. She had no idea if she'd be able to
find a decent garage in West Virginia, a work environment where she felt safe
like at TM. It was a man's field, after all, and there were very few places a
woman could work on cars and not be the object of ogling at the most innocuous
and downright harassment at the more insidious.
Juice had work directly after school, so once the last bell went he kissed her
goodbye and took off. They never said goodbye these days, either.
At her locker she loaded her backpack, and as she turned around some guy she
barely even recognized wandered by.
"Kill anyone today, Gable? Or are you fuckin' 'em all instead?"
"I'm sorry?" she said.
"You heard me. Whore."
"She might've heard you, but I didn't." Opie appeared seemingly from nowhere,
and she wondered how someone so big managed to move so quietly. "You wanna
repeat it?"
She held up a hand. "It's okay, Ope." She smiled at the guy and took a step
closer. "I haven't killed anyone today, actually, but it's early. As for
fucking—well. You did call me a whore, so how much?"
He blinked, nonplussed. "Huh?"
"I prefer to think of myself as a high-class call girl, so don't lowball me."
"Wha…?"
"Get outta here, dipshit," Opie said.
"Fuck you, man," he snarled. "You and that dumb slut."
Opie reached out and shoved the kid against the lockers almost casually.
"You're on lacrosse, right?" He didn't wait for him to answer. "You got two
choices: either apologize and get lost, or I beat your face in and you get cut
for fighting."
"You'd get suspended!"
Opie gave a laconic shrug. "Don't give a fuck."
His panicked gaze darted from Opie to Olivia and back again. "Jesus. I'm sorry.
Okay? Let me go, asshole."
"You believe him, Oll? I kinda don't believe him."
"Let him go, Ope. He's not worth it."
Opie scowled at her, but he pushed the guy down the hall and turned away. "I
hear you messin' with her again, I won't be so nice about it."
"You even know who that was?" Olivia said as the guy scampered away.
"Nah. You?"
"Nope. How'd you know he was on lacrosse?"
"Wild guess." He took her book bag from her. "Come on; lemme walk you to your
car."
She fell in step beside him, automatically lengthening her strides while he
shortened his so that they could walk comfortably side by side. She'd parked
close to the building, so it didn't take them long to get there.
Opie grunted. "Your dad gave you the Cougar back?"
"He's feeling guilty about the move, plus the truck is getting less and less
reliable. I think he's gonna sell it before we go and we'll buy something when
we get out there." She unlocked the door and tossed her bag inside while he
slumped against the car and crossed his arms.
"Where's Donna been?" she said. "I haven't seen her all week."
He scowled and scuffed his boot against the asphalt. "Her parents flipped
about—the TJ thing. They were never super thrilled with us dating anyway,
then—"
"When one of your best friends turned out to be a murderer…" She trailed off
with a wince. "Shit, man, I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," he said. "I think I can wear 'em down again. It's just
gonna take some time."
"I guess it'll help when I leave."
"You got a date yet?"
"Why? You that eager for it?"
"Oll, come on."
Her mouth quirked at his affronted tone. "We're out June fifth; the big move is
the eighth."
"Wow," he said. "He's not fuckin' around."
"The company is moving us, paying for everything and giving us temporary
housing and even selling our house here, so…we're basically on their
timetable."
"They must really want him."
"He's good at his job," she said. "I think the president of his union called in
a few favors, too. Because of the raw deal Dad was getting."
Opie made a low noise of agreement. A silence fell between them, and she shut
the door to lean next to him. "Ollie, listen…"
She cast him a look and waited.
"I don't—it's not that I'm glad you're leaving; don't think that. But I—I think
maybe it's a good thing."
Her brow furrowed in a frown. "Why?" she said.
He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. "Assholes like that guy in there, for
one. They're not gonna stop, and I won't always be there."
"I can take care of myself," she said, lifting her chin.
"I know you can." He tugged on a lock of her hair, something he used to do all
the time but hadn't since they broke up. "But you shouldn't have to. You should
just be able to go to school and do your thing and not be harassed about it.
Your dad, you know, he's a good guy. He's not doin' this just to piss you off
or keep you and Juice apart or anything."
"I know," she said. Her voice was quiet and, he thought, said. "He's doing what
he thinks is best. All the rest of it's just collateral damage."
"You'll be okay, though. You always are."
"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not."
"I just mean—you're tough. I know you love Juice a lot, and that's hard. And
you're gonna miss Tara, and like TM and stuff, but you know how to deal."
"Hhmm," she said. "You know, Juice and Tara and TM aren't the only things I'll
miss."
"Yeah?" he said. "Jax too?"
She poked him. "You, you idiot. I'm gonna miss you."
He buried his hands in his pockets and dropped his chin. "How long you think
it'll take you to get over that?"
"I don't know," she said. "A week? Maybe two."
He laughed and pulled her close in a one-armed hug. "God love ya, Ollie Gable,
because fuck knows nobody else's up to it."
"Please. You're gonna cry yourself to sleep every night after I'm gone."
His expression turned serious before he grinned again. "Maybe not every night."
"Ope." She reached up to touch his face, a bare brush of her fingers. "You'll
take care of Juice, won't you? You and Jax? Don't let him patch in. He's not—he
shouldn't have that life."
"And Jax and me should?"
"You two were born to it. You can handle it. Juice'll let himself get caught up
and before he knows it he'll be in over his head and—" She waved a hand. "Don't
sponsor him. Promise me."
"Oll, if he wants to prospect and the guys agree—"
"Opie."
He let out a frustrated sigh. "Yeah, okay. I promise I won't sponsor him." His
shoulders rose and fell. "Won't matter anyway. He's college-bound, and you
two'll hook up again and you'll be poppin' out babies in no time."
She made a face. "I don't really think I'm the popping out babies type. I've
got to change the face of the art world, remember?"
"That's right," he said. "Hey, you do a show within a hundred miles of Charming
I promise I'll come."
"Really?"
"Yup."
"For real promise, or just bullshit promise?"
"For real promise, geez. Who the fuck you think you're talkin' to?"
"You're a good guy, Winston. Don't let Jackson Teller fuck you up."
He made a noncommittal sort of noise. "Jax ain't so bad."
"No, he's not," she said. "But there's a difference between not so
bad and…well. You."
His face screwed up in a thoughtful grimace. "You ever worry you got too much
faith in me?"
"Nope," she said. "Not in the least." She stretched up on tiptoe to press a
kiss to his cheek. "I've gotta get home. See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah, Oll," he said. He reached around her to open the door and held it as she
got in. She started the engine and waved, then pulled out of the lot. He stood
for a while, watching the car until it turned down the block.
There was no way she'd be gone forever. Charming wasn't the kind of place you
just left. It stuck with you, and nowhere else felt like home after. In a
little over two weeks she'd leave, and maybe she wouldn't look back for a
while—but she would eventually.
Everyone always did.
===============================================================================
Olivia was sprawled across her bed studying for her history final when the
phone rang. She checked the clock and grinned; it had to be Juice.
"Hello?" she said.
"Hey, babe. You got time to talk?"
"I'm sorry. Who is this?"
"Very funny," he said.
She fell back against the pillows with a laugh. "How was work?"
"Boring." She heard the crinkle of what sounded like a potato chip bag in the
background, then the squeak of bedsprings. At some point he'd talked his mom
into letting him get a line put in his room, and apparently he was using that
one now.
"I should've stopped by," she said. "We could've gone to the taco truck during
your break."
"That woulda been awesome. Maybe Monday?"
"Sure," she said. "It's a date."
A brief silence fell. She wound the cord around her finger. "Juicy?"
"Hhmm?" he said around a mouthful of chips.
"What are you wearing?"
He laughed, choking a little, and took a sip of his drink. "Uh, just my shorts.
Ready for bed."
"Mmmm," she said. She closed her eyes to picture it.
"What's on your mind?" he said, and she could hear the grin in his voice.
"Oh. Nothing much. I just thought, maybe, we could practice."
"Practice? Practice what?"
"Ummm…" She wiggled a little, settling herself more comfortably. "We'll be
apart a long time, and we'll have to rely on things like IM and email…and the
phone."
"Olivia Jameson Gable, are you propositioning me for phone sex?"
"You sound shocked."
"Nope," he said. "I've had your number for a while."
"My number? What's that mean?"
He barked out a quick laugh. "You're a bad, bad girl, Olivia."
"What?" she said, feigning innocence. "Me? You're the one who called your
girlfriend while wearing nothing but your underwear! And while in bed."
"Um, so, in the interest of full disclosure…at some point in the last two
minutes I seem to've lost my underwear."
She giggled. "In the interest of full disclosure, I was never wearing any."
He drew in a breath. "What are you wearing then?"
"Just a t-shirt. Actually, just your t-shirt. The one you left over here last
week."
The squeak of springs again as he shifted and brushed he heel of his hand over
his erection. "You think maybe you could do me a favor?"
"Sure," she said.
His voice was low and just a little rough when he spoke again. "Play with your
nipples for me, Livvie? Through the shirt."
"You mean like…pinch them?"
"Yeah," he breathed.
"Tug on them a little?"
His head fell back and he closed his eyes. "Like that, baby. Are they gettin'
all hard?"
"You know they are," she said, a quiet whisper. "Just like when you play with
them."
"Wish I were doin' that right now."
"Mmmm, me too." She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. "What about you, love?
Are you gettin' all hard?"
"Been hard," he said. "Basically since you asked me what I was wearing."
"Now which one of us is bad?"
"Still you." He ran his palm up the shaft without wrapping his fingers around
it.
"So whatcha gonna do about it, Ortiz? Spank me?"
He squeezed his cock as a sort of reflex, not even meaning to, and the noise he
made was strangled and high. "Livvie, goddamn, you can't just say shit like
that."
Her hand drifted down to rest on her thigh. She could feel the wetness between
her legs, but she didn't want to do anything about it. Not yet. "You like that
idea, baby? You like the thought of me on my hands and knees, my ass in the
air, while you—"
"Baby, God, I can't—" He drew in a long, unsteady breath and let it out slow.
"I'm gonna make a mess any second if you keep talkin' like that, and I have a
feeling you're not quite ready for that."
She stroked a fingertip across her clit and couldn't suppress a gasp.
"What was that?" he said.
"Um. Just. You know."
"Uh huh," he said. He stretched out and gave his cock a long stroke. "Use two
fingers, babe. Flick your clit just a little."
"What are—mmmm that's good—what are you doing?"
"Jerkin' off to the sound of my girlfriend makin' herself come."
"Fuck," she whispered.
"Slide those fingers inside you, Livvie. Bury 'em in that slick wet cunt just
the way you like."
"Juicy!" she moaned, her voice breathy and soft.
"That's good," he rasped. "Fuck that's so good. Love those sexy little noises
you make. Love fingerin' your hot little pussy. You all wet for me, baby?"
"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, Juicy, so wet."
"I wish I had this cock in you right now. I'm so fuckin' hard for you. Wanna
make you scream, Livvie."
She was whimpering and moaning, and she turned her head to muffle her voice in
the pillow. "Juice, oh God, yes, yes, yes!" she said, and he could just make
out the words.
"That's it, just like that, God I love makin' you come!" He stroked harder,
faster, and he just managed to grab a handful tissue before his balls went
tight and he was coming everywhere. "Livvie!" he groaned.
She bucked her hips and pressed her fingers deep, curling them against her G-
spot while her palm ground against her clit, and at the sound of his lust-
wrecked voice chanting her name the orgasm sizzled through her. Her teeth dug
into her lower lip and she rode it out with soft little pants and gasps until
finally she fell onto the pillows in a sweating, boneless heap.
"Well," he said, sounding ragged and breathless.
"Did you make a mess, baby?" she said with a drunken giggle.
"Nearly. Almost didn't get the tissues in time."
"Oops."
"Uh huh. You sound real sorry."
She stretched, arching her back and lifting her arms above her head, and at the
noise she made he growled. "Bet you're not sorry about that, either."
"Nope," she said. "Not at all. Mmmm, Juicy, that was fun."
"Damn straight," he said. He got up to toss the tissues then crawled back into
bed, curled up around his extra pillow. "I love you, Olivia."
"I love you too, Juan Carlos."
It got quiet again, and she felt such an impossible sadness… "Juice—"
"I know," he murmured. "We'll be okay, Liv."
"You promise?"
"Yeah, babe. I promise."
She smiled. "You want your shirt back?"
"Nah," he said. "You keep it. You can wear it in West Virginia and think about
me."
"Okay," she said. "That sounds like a plan."
===============================================================================
And then suddenly it was moving day.
Exams had flown by, then the end of the year parties (most of which Olivia
skipped for obvious reasons), and just like that it was June eighth. It had
been a frenzy of packing, with Tara helping out and even Gemma popping in at
one point, but most of their stuff was going to be packed by professional
movers (hired by the company in West Virginia) and basically all they needed
was whatever they were hauling with them to have right away.
Olivia and Juice had had a long goodbye the night before, and he'd said he
wasn't going to come by this morning. She'd already had too many goodbyes:
they'd all gotten together the last day of school, and she hadn't seen Jax
since then. Opie, once, when she stopped by TM to bid farewell to everyone
there, and Tara of course as much as they possibly could.
But now it was all said and done, the U-Haul packed, and it was time to go. She
couldn't help but cast long glances down the street, hoping maybe he'd show up
at the last minute…but no. They'd made a deal.
"Pumpkin?" her dad said. "You ready?"
She brushed her hand over her face and summoned a smile. "Sure, Daddy." Her
mouth twisted a little. "Are you really sure the Cougar's gonna be okay on that
trailer?"
"Ollie, gimme a break. This isn't my first cross-country road trip."
"Oh that's right," she said, teasing him a little. "You're an old hand at
this."
"Yep. Trust your dad."
"I trust you. It's everybody else on the road I worry about."
He rolled his eyes and squeezed her shoulder. "Get in the truck, Ollie. It's
gonna be a long day if you worry about every driver on the road."
"Can we stop and get doughnuts?"
"I already said we could."
She grinned and reached for the door handle, but a sound stopped her.
James frowned and peered down the street. "I thought you said Juice wasn't
coming."
"He wasn't," she said, her voice a bare gasp.
The bike appeared around the corner, and she was already running toward it. He
stopped halfway down the block and jumped off, barely getting the kickstand
down before the whole thing tipped. She threw herself at him and he caught her
with an oomph.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry I couldn't stay away I had to see you I'm
sorry."
"No, no, no, I'm glad you're here. I'm so glad you're here." Her arms were
around his neck and her legs around his waist and they were kissing like it was
the only thing keeping them alive.
James turned his back and pretended to mess with something on the truck, but
Olivia had forgotten he was there and Juice hadn't noticed him at all. They
were both crying, blinded by their tears, and Juice kissed hers from her cheeks
and whispered her name over and over.
"I love you," she said. "I love you so much, Juicy."
"I love you too, Liv. I'm never gonna let you go, baby. I promise. No matter
what."
"I know," she said. "I know, Juan Carlos. You're mine and I'm yours and that's
never gonna change."
His hold loosened reluctantly, and she slid down to land on her feet. "You've
gotta go," he said.
"Yeah."
He cupped her cheek in his hand and studied her like he was trying to memorize
every line and freckle. As if he didn't already know them all. "I know you
won't be able to call from your hotel or wherever, so call me as soon as you
get there. Okay? I just need to know you're all right."
"I will." She couldn't take her eyes off him, couldn't bear to look away, and
the thought of being so far away from him was like a physical ache.
"Olivia," her dad said, softly. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry. We've got to hit the
road."
"I know, Daddy," she said. "I'm coming."
"I love you," Juice murmured one last time. He kissed her, soft and sweet, and
she smiled.
"I love you too. I'll talk to you in a few days."
Words were suddenly beyond him, so he just nodded and stepped back. She turned
away slowly, like she was walking through molasses, and as she climbed up into
the truck her eyes were trained on his figure standing there in the middle of
the street.
It took all of Juice's self control not to climb on his bike and take off after
them. They could still run away, could still just take off, his mom would be
fine she seemed to be doing really well on the chemo…
Except of course he couldn't. Olivia had been right about that. He stared after
the U-Haul and scraped both hands back through his hair. He talked a good
game—they both did—but he had no idea if he'd ever see her again.
What a joke. The love of his life walked out of it when he was sixteen years
old.
Back in the truck, James reached along the bench seat to take Olivia's hand in
his. "You're gonna be okay, pumpkin. I promise."
She sniffled and cast him a brief smile. "Of course I will, Daddy." They drove
past Juice, carefully steering around his bike, and she watched him until they
turned the corner and he was gone. She fell back against the seat with a long,
steady breath.
"I always am," she said, and there was a hardness and finality in her tone that
echoed in the truck's small cabin.
Chapter End Notes
     Fin. 1/25/15
     Welp. Sorry this one took a while to get out, but look! We made it!
     There will be a sequel, I promise. You can follow my tumblr at
     stupidscalptattoos for more info and updates as they happen!
     Thanks for reading, loves, and for all your kind words and kudos and
     encouragement. :)
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