It was always the fat girl, the friend, the you have such a pretty face but…, you name it – I heard it. Between the name calling at school, the dateless nights I stayed at home with my brother and all of his hell bent friends who enjoyed nothing more than to pick fun at me, pretending I was sick on prom night just to get out of facing it alone and vulnerable with my fat arms out, being stood up by the one boy I truly loved, I knew something had to change.

And it did. When I left Charming for college I also left eighty pounds, my mousy brown hair and my under plucked eyebrows. My confidence grew tremendously over the next five years, along with my paycheck and my boobs (with the help of Dr. Monte). I now stand proudly, with my back up straight, and always eye level with my peers instead of pointed down to the floor.

I haven't been back to Charming in 1,974 days, not that I'm counting. But on day 1,975 that is exactly where I'm headed. It's taken a lot of thought and going back and forth but I'm confident that it is the right decision. When I got word that there was an RN opening at St. Thomas – that was the icing on the cake. I'm coming back for revenge.

Revenge against all the guys who were ever mean to me, the girls that treated me as if I was less of a person, that stupid motorcycle gang, and most importantly against Jax Teller – the love of my adolescents.

I know it sounds callous and you're all probably thinking, you're better than this, you've risen above, changed yourself for the better, have a career, etc., but that isn't what this is about and it isn't like I'm going to go on a killing spree. I'm just going to show them what they missed out on, what I could have been to them, kill them with kindness if I must put it into words.

At twenty three years old I reek of sex appeal, I've worked hard at my body not to. My face is lacquered in makeup; baby blue eyes lined perfectly, eyebrows on point, tan cheeks bronzed, plump lips glossed, breast pushed even further in a size small (yes I said it!) off white sleeveless crop top, 32DD bra built into the seam, an A-line black laced mini Skirt that hangs high on my slim hips. My legs are bronzed; feet pedicured in four inch peep toed strappy red heels.

I'm late to my own party - one my brother Opie and my 'aunt' Gemma insisted on throwing for me. I planned accordingly though, knowing today falls directly in line with Jackson's birthday. So really it's a party for both of us, had to burst his little bubble somehow and insure that he'd be at their dingy little clubhouse. Hate to break it to him though, tonight will be all about me - me teasing him, taunting him, reeling him in only to spit him out later. He's going to wish he never stood me up, left me waiting on my door stoop for six hours, ruining the makeup I worked so hard to apply and tearing down every dream I had of the two of us – all dressed up with nowhere to go. Looking back on it now he probably only asked me out of pity but nonetheless he still asked and he didn't show, I haven't seen him since. Even though I wasn't supposed to go off to school for another six weeks I left the next day for school in Washington.

I pull into the gates of Teller-Morrow, parking my Range Rover in the back. There's a flood of cars here, mostly for Jackson I'm assuming. I see my dad's motorcycle and can't help but sigh; it's been far too long since I've seen the old man. It's not like he hasn't tried to visit but every time he's tried I've been pulling doubles at the hospital in Washington. I briefly cross my arms over my chest, feeling a bit ashamed for a moment at my choice of clothing but shrug it off, thinking of the mindless crow eaters that are probably draped over the entire club's laps.

'Must play nice, must be confident, and must draw attention.' I think to myself, turning off the engine. When I step out of the car I almost lose my footing, my stomach drops. I take a moment to brace myself; I should have had a drink before I came. Liquid courage – that is what I need.

I silently curse myself but step forward, I feel eyes on me as I pass the smokers. They don't speak as I pass by them but I smile at the unfamiliar faces. I toss my wavy blonde locks over my shoulder, "Hi boys!" I wink playfully before one of them opens the door for me.

When I step inside I smell the familiar odor of musk, marijuana, sex and booze. I hold my head high as my eyes fall on a familiar figure. Even from behind I can tell my brother from a mile away, his hair is long, his shoulders slumped over the bar, and he sits deep in conversation. I can't decipher who else he's with but I don't waste time going over to him. I quietly creep behind him, my manicured hands peeking over his shoulders and on top of his eyes.

"Guess who?" I whisper, letting go. He practically jumps out of his seat to face me and the next thing I know I'm in his arms bracing him. He hugs me tightly, I feel my feet lift from the ground. "Hey, I'm not as cushiony as I once was, you're going to have to ease your grip ya doof!"

He pulls back from me but doesn't let go, "Where have you been you little shit?" His lips meet my forehead, not quite what I expected but I'll take it. "Five years not a single phone call! You had a brother worried sick! Not to mention you come back like this." He lets go of me and looks me over, Shaking his head he grunts angrily. "Go put on some clothes ya little prostitute." I shake my head at him but he doesn't stop talking, he must be buzzed. "How are you gonna come in here like that? Half the size of ya and half the clothes!"

"Give the girl a break." A voice interjects, Gemma. "Look at you, you little fine young thang!" She spins me around before taking me in her arms. I hug her back, returning the sentiment.

"Hey Mama!" I squeal, holding her tightly. Now, Gemma may not be my mother and she may not be perfect but through all of this she has been there for me. Even when I was in Washington, She called me every day. Even took me to get my new boobs. She's always been so good to me and thankfully never pushes the subject of her son on me. For this I love her so.

"Get this girl a round of shots!" She says letting go of me, I push my way towards the bar and allow a tall man with a Mohawk and lightning bolt tattoos, Juice, to pour me shots of Whiskey. He smiles at me from across the bar, cheersing me with a small wink. I can't stop myself from giggling before I take the shot.

"What's your name?" He asks as if he didn't already know, leaning over the bar. He pulls lightly at the end of my long blonde hair, wrapping it around his finger. "And what's a pretty little thang like you doing around this place?"

I put my hand over his, pulling it away from my hair and down onto the counter top. I drop it there but let my hand brush over it once more before reaching past him to grab the bottle of Jack. "Lizzy." I reply smugly, looking up at him with big eyes.

You see, I've actually known Juice for quite some time, not that anyone else in the club knows. In fact he encouraged me to come here and seek my revenge against Jackson, ever since he found out what happened between the two of us he's all for bringing Mr. Hot Shot down. Don't get me wrong, Juice is all about the club but from the moment he met me he's been putty in my hands. In fact, I'm staying with him until I find a place of my own. His apartment isn't huge but it'll do for now and sometimes its nice waking up to his fresh face in the morning. Now, before you go to judging Juice and I are strictly friends, okay – friends with benefits but nobody else needs to know that or even that Juicy boy and I know each other aside from the club.

From behind me I feel a hand on the small of my back, I jump slightly but try to keep my cool. "Don't even try it, Juicy. This is my daughter, well what is left of her anyways!" The familiar deep voice calls from behind me. I quickly let go of the bottle and turn around.

My arms immediately go around my father's middle, I hug him loosely, noticing how aged he's become. "Papa!" I scream, letting go of him.

"Elizabeth!" He says quietly, I notice he wears a breathing tube. "Didn't think I'd see you before I bit the bullet." He wheezes but stands tall, firm when he speaks to me.

I cross my arms over my chest, pouting my bottom lip. "I'm sorry, pap! I'm so sorry!" I wrap my arms around him once more, hugging him once more before backing up.

"Next time I see you I hope you're wearing more clothes, little one." His frown turns into a smile after a moment, "You look beautiful my little one, so healthy and pretty. You've always been so pretty, little one." He repeats, "But your pop has to head home now, I'm not feeling so good. You have a good night though, and you come see your old man tomorrow." He kisses my forehead lightly, "And don't you go talking to Juicy over there, that boys a trouble maker since the date I met him." He points at Juice, eyes narrowing. "I mean it boy, keep your hands off of my little girl!" And with that the little old man, who I call my father is gone.

I go back to the bar and have a few more shots, my eyes wondering around the room. I remain quiet as I take in all the familiar faces, they smile and wave and invite me to sit and have a drink with them but my eye is searching for the prize. Where is the beloved Jackson anyways?

Thirty minutes later, two more shots and a dose of courage later I spot him. He's looking as good as always, his cut hanging against his broad shoulders, a button up flannel underneath sleeves pushed up to his elbows, denim jeans that hug his hips in just the right way and clean white sneakers on his feet. He doesn't even notice me as the crow eater's giggle on at him. I try to remember how I was going to approach this, do I act coy? Should I show him just how angry I really am? I could just march right up to him and scream all the awful things I'm desperate to say. I take a deep breath and sigh, 'Get it together Lizzy, You have a plan! Reel him in girl! Make him beg for it.'

Inner goddess – Come out, come out wherever you are! Just in the nick of time too, he turns around finally facing me. I can tell by the expression on his face has hasn't changed. At least when it comes to a woman he finds attractive. I can feel his eyes on my legs, and then to my chest and finally up at my eyes. I take one more deep breath before smiling over at him. I offer him a small wave but don't go over to where he stands. He does a double take but when his smile turns into a grin I can tell he's noticed just exactly who I am. I take this moment to turn away from him, I make my way over to the cooler to grab a beer, making sure to shake my ass just a little more as I do so. I feel eyes on me, his eyes, the eyes of the other pervert's that are a part of this club but I ignore them. I bend over the cooler, keeping my knees straight, legs spread slightly as I grab a Bud Light. I make sure to dig deep, allowing him and whoever else to get a good look. After all, I did work hard for this ass.

Before I stand straight I feel a pair of hands on my hips, I pull away quickly and turn to face him. The face I've been waiting to see all these years, looking at me exactly how I wished he always would. My inner goddess is screaming – Yes! You're gonna regret this sucker!

The next thing I know my long legs are wrapped around his waist, hugging him tightly in front of everyone. I throw my head back, arching my back as his hands quickly move to brace me by my hips. I then take a moment to nuzzle my face into his neck, he still smells of the same cologne. I make sure to place my lips in the crook of his neck, not in a kissing way but enough to let him know that they're there.

I don't unwrap myself from him until I hear my brother grunting in the background, He doesn't say anything at first just takes me in. I feel my cheeks turning red as he looks me over once more, his hands still on my hips. His thumb rubs over my bare flesh. I shiver slightly against his touch, but try to stand tall next to him. He hasn't changed at all as far as looks go, his hair is long, tucked behind his ears, eyes still as blue as the ocean and cheeks still lightly scruffed. He has more tattoos than I can remember but he still stands tall and proud. When he finally speaks I find myself fighting from turning into mush, "Why didn't you return any of my calls?" He lets go of me briefly before taking my arm, practically dragging me out of the club house. Before we're outside he makes sure to grab the bottle of Jack I had been holding before and a couple of beers. I follow close behind him, my own beer in my hand. I take a large gulp of it, before settling down on the picnic table across the lot that he's dragged me to. We both take a seat on top of it, I cross my leg towards him, kicking it lightly back and forth.

"What do you mean return your calls, Jackie?" I mumble as he pulls out a cigarette, as he lights it I take it from him and place it in my own mouth. I attempt to puff on is seductively but I more likely than not resemble a bull instead. "Why did you stand me up?" I raise an eyebrow at him before reaching over him for the bottle of Jack. I take a sip before he pulls it away from me. He matches my move, taking a gulp of the dark liquor.

He takes a large puff of his cigarette before turning to face me, "Lizzy, I was 21. You were seventeen for fucks sake. Opie's my best friend and your father is like a second dad to me! What did you expect me to do? I was scared as fucking shit." He's firm when he speaks but offers a small smile. He puts his heavily ringed hand on my knee, "I'm sorry."

I feel my stomach turn but thanks to the alcohol I don't immediately respond, even as infuriated I am, I try and brush off the uneasiness that I'm feeling. 'He's just saying this because you're hot now.' I think to myself, 'Lizzy the loser, remember'.

"You look great by the way." He doesn't move his hand, just continues to stare at me as I sip on my beer. I remain quiet, taking deep drags of the stolen cigarette. "Not that you didn't before, Liz-" He stops himself, I can tell he's trying to think of the right thing to say. Just like everyone else who's seen me since I transformed into the 'goddess' version of myself.

"It's okay." I bravely move my hand so it rest on top of his for a moment, looking over I offer him a small smile. He grins over at me. I flick out the cigarette and drop the empty bottle past my feet. Leaning back I brace myself against the picnic table. I can feel his eyes on me, he turns so he's facing me but doesn't lean back, one leg crossed under the other.

"It's not okay, I was in love with my best friends little sister but I was a pussy and let you leave." He groans, eyes darting to the ground.

I can't believe what I'm hearing; the goddess in me is reminding me that he's only saying this to get into my pants. The inner insecure fatty is shining through at the moment and turning myself into putty. "You loved me?" I whispered quietly, leaning up on my elbows. He's looking at me with sad eyes, "Even though I was fat?"

"I always thought you were beautiful, you just didn't see it." He leans over, pushing a loose piece of hair behind my ear. When he puts his hand on my cheek I can't help but whimper, sure I've been out with guys since then. I've dated around but up until this moment I haven't once felt as much like goo as I do now. My heart races as he leans forward, my eyes squeeze shut as he presses his lips against mine. I don't respond at first but as my inner goddess smacks me out of it I quickly grab the back of his head and neck. I pull him on top of me, my legs spreading slightly for him to hover over me. Our tongues quickly meet - the taste of cigarettes and whiskey fresh on our breath. Out of any kiss I've ever received, this is by far the best. My hands are shaking as I try to brace myself; he hovers over me, hands on my hips, pushing me down onto the picnic table. I stifle a low moan as his lips leave mine, trailing down to my neck. He takes a deep breath, pulling me closer to him. His hands move down to the bottom of my skirt, he rests them on my bare thighs. Against what my body is telling me to the goddess is pulling me back, 'Only give him a taste whore bag.'

But drunk me doesn't listen, instead I push forward against him. My hands fall from underneath us, slamming him directly on top of me. Our kisses grow sloppier as the alcohol sets in, my hands reach underneath his cut and pull at the buttons, freeing his defined chest. Damn, has he grown into his body.

I feel one of his hands grabbing at the edge of my crop top, leaving goose bumps on my stomach. Somehow that snaps me out of the trance his lips have left me in. "Jackson stop." I mumble, attempting to unwrap myself from him.

He immediately retracts but remains hovered over me, "But why?" He questions, raising an eyebrow. He helps pull me up into a seated position before taking out his pack of cigarettes. We sit there smoking quietly for a few moments, I think of the right thing to say but it doesn't come.

And then the inner goddess appears, "Jackson, I'm a virgin." I lie, looking over at him. I pull the most sincere look I can muster. That bastard did always like virgins.

I can tell he's trying to hide the grin that he's got permanently plastered on his face, so I go on. "Jackson, I've been waiting all this time to give it to you." It must be the alcohol because even I'm convinced.

"R-r-really?" He stutters, "You're so sexy, how hasn't anyone swept you off of your feet?"

I giggle, reaching my hand over and onto his lap. I move my hand over onto his groin; I can feel how hard he is through his pants. I give it a quick squeeze before hopping off the picnic table. "I guess you're just going to have to do the sweeping."

And with that I'm gone, I make my way inside and find Juice, he's sitting at the bar looking sad. I take a seat next to him, "What's wrong, baby?" I whisper, my hand rests on his shoulder for a moment.

"Let's just get out of here." He says quietly, not looking me directly in the eye. I pull my hand away from him, he's drunk too. I can practically smell the tequila when he speaks.

"Okay." I stand and wait for him to follow, when he goes to walk it's more like a sway. When we're clear of the club house he begins to mumble. It isn't until five minutes later, a quarter of the way to his apartment that he begins speaking coherently.

"I saw the way you fucking kissed him, Lizzy." He trudges alongside me, kicking an invisible rock as he steps forward. "Why don't you kiss me like that?"

I raise an eyebrow, slumping his arm over my shoulder. I attempt to pave our way down the sidewalk but his hand falls lower down my back until he reaches my bottom, he squeezes firmly as we walk together in silence. "What are you talking about?"

"I saw you, I saw you kiss him. I saw him fucking groping you." He's hissing at me as we walk, "Do you like that, huh?"

With his apartment just ahead I don't say anything, just reach for my keys. As I go to open the door I feel Juice hovering me; He slams the door closed with an open hand and pushes me against the wall. "Juicy, Baby. You knew why I was coming here. You said you were okay with it." He doesn't back up, instead braces his hands on either side of me. His lips are dangerously close to mine, he leans forward and kisses me hard. He bites down on my lower lip causing me to moan. I pull back after a moment, taking a deep breath when he kisses alongside my neck. His lips hit my collarbone, sucking gently on it. He's trying to bruise me. I push back at his shoulders and even though I want nothing more than for him to continue I pull myself away from him. "I'll take the couch tonight."