QUICK SHOUT OUT: Congrats to Summerd123 on starting her own Fanfic. You guys should definitely check it out. I know I will. We can never have too many SOA fic's am I right?

A/N: I got a pretty heavy workload and a deadline attached to it so I won't be doing multi-chapter updates consistently for a little while. You guys are awesome though! So the continued feedback (reviews) will definitely encourage me to write for this fic whenever I do have some spare time =)

- Veritable Old Lady Crow

Solidarity, in a manner of speaking was a good thing.

Tara was all for women sticking together, having each other's backs. There was nothing wrong with being supportive. And she could never say that Carlie Jacobs took pity on her either. It was quite the opposite. She saw Tara as her equal, yet another female scorned by those selfish, ungrateful, unreliable human beings called men.

But her attitude towards the agitated fifteen year old girl from the time their shift started was about ten percent girl power and ninety percent "Jacob Hale screwed me over, too. Let's be angry about that together!"

By the time the closing time came along Tara was convinced that she'd rather pick up all of Carlie's slack and every other employees as well than endure hours of the mother-to-be trying to induct her into the He-man hater's club.

Seriously, she just wished she would shut the hell up.

Or that her water would break so she could get carted off to the hospital and bitch at all the medical personnel until they sedated her chatty Kathy, I-can-make-anything-all-about-me ass.

Walking through the vacant store parking lot towards her father's Cutlass felt a lot like early release on a lengthy prison sentence.

And normally the ride home from work was peaceful, quiet.

Tonight was different.

At work she didn't have a moment to think between doing her job (unlike some people) and Carlie's ("some people") nonstop complaining but now that she was all alone with her thoughts she couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened.

Most of the day's events made sense.

But there was one part in particular that was bothering her.

Gemma Teller snatching her up by her neck was far from shocking. That woman loved to make an example out of people and Tara had given her the perfect opportunity by opening her big mouth.

Piney Winston loved to take time out of his outlaw schedule to have heart to hearts with people he felt needed guidance—even the short-tempered teenage girl that lived next door. Hell, even his son had a few earnest moments every now and again.

Donna Lewis, was Donna—the same as usual. Quick to make the wrong assumptions and even faster with starting a confrontation.

And all the girls of Charming High did exactly what was expected of them after two years of witnessing it all—they flocked straight to Jackson Teller. He was the shit and they were a swarm of eager flies.

All the girls—including her.

Today was the first time Tara felt like one of them. It was the first time he made her feel like one of them.

He'd gotten her right where he wanted her, too.

Pulling out of lot, Tara cringed at the memory—her back against those lockers, her legs around his waist. The Teller Charm won out again. He knew his target well, he'd hit the fuckin bull's-eye the way he always did.

And all it took was telling her he wanted her.

All it took was threatening to walk away from her.

It was the cruelest of combinations—and it worked like a charm.

His charm.

Prince Charming.

He could have taken whatever he wanted in that moment. She'd caved, gave in—those mere minutes, that felt like hours when she'd thrown caution to the wind and did what her body told her to do, overriding the logic in her mind telling her that it wouldn't this easy.

I'll just break up with David and be with Jax.

She knew it was a fairytale when the thought first occurred to her. And with trifling, spiteful bitches like Sarah Hale around she knew it wouldn't end in Happily Ever After.

So why the hell did she do it?

And perhaps the better question was, Who the fuck does Jackson Teller think he is?

Yeah, Ok.

She lied.

Well, not really.

He never asked who her boyfriend was.

And she didn't tell him it wasn't David.

Did she know it would bother him? Yes.

Was that the reason she kept it from him? Definite yes.

But that didn't give him the right to be pissed at her.

That didn't make it okay to fuck some spoiled brat right in front of her just for spite. That wasn't even eye for an eye. That was getting hit with a water balloon and retaliating with a fuckin bazooka.

Why the hell do I even feel bad? Why do I feel guilty at all?

She made her choice.

It might have been a little late in the game but she still chose him. What more did he want?

Trying to decipher the motivations of a fifteen year old boy was every bit as futile as trying to sort out her own confliction.

Hormones alone was a bitch to deal with. When you peppered them with feelings it was impossible.

Lowell Junior was a welcome distraction from trying to do the impossible.

Tara eased her foot on the gas, rolling her window down to call out to the boy walking along the side of the dark, empty road. "Lowell?"

Lowell slowed his power-walk, peering into the car. "…oh hey, Tara! What's up?"

"I thought you lived near Jax," Tara commented.

Lowell nodded. "I do."

"By car its no problem…but that's a nice hike by foot," Tara noted. "Not that you can't handle yourself or anything…but isn't it a little late for you to be walking that far by yourself?"

"It wasn't really my plan," Lowell answered. His laughter was nervous. "I was at that diner across from Monroe's with my old man…I guess my dad's had a lot on his mind lately."

Tara considered his words. She shook her head as it dawned on her. "Your dad left you?"

"It's cool," Lowell said, shrugging. "Lumpy says I need to do more cardio anyway."

Tara pulled the car to a complete stop. "Get in. I'll give you a ride home."

"Nah, that's okay."

"I wasn't asking."

Lowell shook his head, speeding up to a nice jog. "You don't have to—"

"—you remember what I did to you in the gym the other day?"

"You almost gave me a concussion but I didn't suffer memory loss so yeah, I remember," Lowell said, chuckling. "Now that you've mentioned it how are—"

"—I'll do it again."

"Huh?"

"Get in the car…or I kick your ass," Tara threatened. "Your choice."

Lowell laughed. The laughter died, when the sternness in her expression didn't change a tick.

His eyes widened and Tara had to fight against her own laughter bubbling to the surface. "I don't have all night, LJ. Let's go."

"You're seriously threatening me—"

"Get in the car!" she screamed before losing the battle, giggling.

"Yes, m'am," Lowell said, jogging over to the other side.

"Call me m'am again and I really will kick your ass."

"Sorry." Lowell strapped on his seat-belt, before turning to give tara an impish smile. "Thanks, Tara."

"Just putting coin in the karma bank."

Won't be the first time I filled in for a crappy father either.

"My mom's doing an extra shift at the hospital," Lowell commented after a moment or two had gone by.

Tara nodded, stopping at the red light. "She's a RN right?"

"Yeah," Lowell answered. "umm…I was wondering if…you know what never mind…"

"What is it?"

"It's just Teller-Morrow is closer…and that's probably where my dad went anyway…and I don't have my keys…although I guess I could wait outside…"

Tara sighed. "I'll give you a ride there."

But I'm dropping you outside the lot.

No way in hell I'm driving inside.

Can't count on the town for witnesses there.

"Cool," Lowell replied. "Thanks."

"You thanked me already."

"Right…sorry."

Tara smiled, shaking her head as she turned a corner. "Why are you always so awkward around me? We've know each other since Kindergarten. Besides I'm the spaz that almost beat your head gear off. I should be the awkward one right now."

"I'm awkward with everyone I guess," he answered, shrugging. "…especially pretty girls…" Tara glanced over at him, a little taken aback by the compliment. Whatever he read in her expression had his eyes widening like before. "Oh! I didn't mean—I wasn't flirting with you or anything…I was just—

"—making an observation?" Tara finished for him, thinly-veiled laughter in her voice.

"Yeah," Lowell said. "let's go with that."

Tara snickered. Reaching over she patted his leg, laughing harder when he flinched at the contact. "A lot of people making observations about me today, Lowell. Yours is the first one that didn't make me want to cry…or punch someone in the face so thank you."

"You have to turn here. The lots on the next corner," he said, clearing his throat.

"Right." He'd spoken out just before she kept going straight past it.

Turning left, she could see the barb-wired gates of Teller-Morrow in the distance.

Not wanting to push her luck, Tara made a sharp U-turn, pulling the car to a stop on the opposite side of the road. "I'll see you later, Lowell."

"You want me to get out here?"

Tara shrugged, choosing to ignore the obvious why laced within his rhetorical question. "It's a lot less of a walk then you were gonna do before I picked you up."

"You scared of the club?"

"No," she answered quickly.

It was Lowell's turn to be amused. He turned, smilling over at her. "They're not as bad as people say they are, Tara. My dad's worked with them for years….and besides," he said, scratching his neck nervously, "You're with Jax right? It's not like Gemma can hate you forever."

Looks like you're the only one in all of Charming that didn't see what happened at the fundraiser.

Otherwise you'd know just how wrong both of those statements are.

Well, the second one definitely.

Thank God no one else was around to witness the reason that negates the first one.

"It's complicated."

"Your life is always complicated, Tara." She cocked an eyebrow at him and he was backtracking in seconds. "I mean…I'm just saying—"

"—it's fine, junior." Tara shook her head, smirking. "Go ahead. I'd like to get at least three hours of sleep before I have to pick my dad up from whatever bar floor he's passed out on."

"Goodnight," he mumbled, pulling the door open.

Tara didn't know why she did it.

"Hey, Lowell." He turned to look back at her. She leaned over brushing her lips across his cheek. "Goodnight."

She could see the blush creeping into his face even in the darkness.

That's when she knew why she did it.

She kind of liked not being the one up against the lockers, so to speak. The other role was more fun.

She was the gamekeeper instead of the wide-eyed doe in this situation.

It felt pretty damn good—especially after the week she'd been having.

"Goodnight," he repeated, followed by a very loud "Oww!" when he hit his head on the door, not paying closing enough attention as he shot out of the car.

Lowell fell right back into his earlier jog just as soon as the car door slammed shut.

Tara giggled as she pulled off.

Tara had just made the right turn, headed back towards her neighborhood when the empty seat next to her began vibrating. She looked over, cringing at the cell phone lighting up in the chair. The caller I.D read "Mommy" and Tara couldn't help when her mind briefly drifted to a latent fantasy of hers where it was her mom calling her phone to see why she wasn't home yet.

Instead of Lowell's mother, calling to check on him in between her shift.

It was Lowell's phone.

He'd left his phone in the car.

Shit.

Without thinking twice about she was quickly headed back towards the Teller-Morrow lot.

By not thinking of course, that meant it didn't occur to her that she wouldn't suddenly develop telepathic abilities until she was parked in front of the auto-shop. Just outside the gates she was tasked with figuring out how the hell she was supposed to get him his phone without leaving the car—or better yet, entering one of the seven circles of Hell.

Shit. Shit. SHIT.

I'll just give it to him tomorrow.

What if his mom called again?

I'll answer it and tell her what happened.

What if she wanted to know why her son was being picked up on the side of the road?

Who knows if his family situation is as fucked up as mines is. And if it is why risk causing the poor guy more problems?

One day Tara would learn that sometimes it was okay to put herself before others.

But not tonight.

Cursing her actions before her foot even touched the asphalt, Tara pulled the keys from the ignition, already circling around the car, sprinting in through the gate before the driver's side door was closed good.

Once she was in she could see him standing just a few feet away from a nearly-closed garage, the light seeping from underneath the rusting metal doors just barely enough for her to see the anxious expression on his face. Lowell Jr's expression wasn't the only thing Tara could make out as she walked closer.

The raised voices coming from inside were even more clear.

"…..running out of a time. Our window's closing. You have to—"

"Are you out of your fuckin mind?! He has a kid! And a wife! I—"

"—You need to be focused on your wife and kids, Lowell!"

"You threatening my family now? What the hell is wrong with you, Clay? You're supposed to be his broth—"

"—I didn't ask you for a lecture! I'm not asking you anything! I'm telling you and if you know what I know you'll do what the fuck I'm telling you to do! Tonight!"

"Lowell," Tara whispered frantically. Lowell Jr. jumped at the sound of her voice so close to his ear.

Jerking around his eyes widened for the third time that night. "What are you doing here, Tara?"

"What the hell are you doing?" Tara countered. "Let's go!"

Tara grabbed his arm, pulling him backwards. After a moment Lowell got the message, turning around he matched her speed as they rushed from the lot back to car, quickly shutting the doors behind them, their breathing heavy.

It was easy to believe it when people said that curiosity killed the cat. It was the satisfaction bringing him back part that didn't sound too accurate.

Tara's interest in the argument they'd walked in on was no match for the fear creeping into her bones from the imminent danger she could sense —the consequences for listening in on a conversation that wasn't meant for them.

Clay Morrow—she'd recognize his voice in a line up in seconds.

He was the one that paid her a visit the night after she'd given her statement to the cops about what happened to Sarah. It may have taken her some time, but Tara was finally ready to admit that she doubted Jax's father would ever harm her or any other child in any way.

His club brother on the other hand...

When he'd threatened her she believed him. She believed him the same way she didn't believe that dead cat was ever satisfied enough to come back to life.

"That was my dad," Lowell stammered. "Clay was threatening my dad and m-m-me….and m-m-my mom…he was threatening us."

"Why?" Tara wondered out loud almost absently. Then she turned to face him. "What else did you hear?"

"He kept saying this was their last shot and it was for the good of the club," Lowell echoed. "It had to be done."

Tara stomach churned. "It's probably nothing serious," Tara lied, hoping to God that the man upstairs would back up her statement and it make it true.

"It didn't sound like nothing, Tara." Lowell shook his head. "Whatever it is…that's why my dad's been so…so…God… what the hell does he want him to do?" Tara rubbed his arm, at a total loss for words that would help or comfort. Lowell flinched, a conclusion swirling in his eyes. "He's probably trying to get him mixed up in drugs again….probably wants him to reach out to his old dealer."

"Your dad used to deal drugs?"

Lowell shook his head. "He was an addict…he got clean a long time ago though…." Lowell eyes bore into Tara's searching for an answer she couldn't give him. "Why would he risk my—what if my dad relapses? What if my mom finds out he's—oh God—Tara he's gonna"—Lowell's words were choked off as he inhaled loudly. Every breath was a wheeze more frightening than the one before it as Tara leaned towards his side of the car, rubbing his back, trying to get him to calm down.

"Lowell! Relax!" Lowell's hand flew to his throat, the other clutching at his chest. "Lowell! It's gonna be okay….Lowell, look at me!" Tara urged. "LOWELL, LOOK AT ME!" His head finally snapped up towards her. But eye contact did nothing to remedy whatever the hell was wrong with him. Her eyes darted back and forth from the terror in his eyes to the tiny o-shape of his mouth as he drew in sips of air too tiny to satisfy his lungs.

She lightly tapped her palms against his cheeks as her eyes continued their dance across his face.

Still no response.

I tried every-fuckin-thing that makes sense.

Her eyes finally settled on his lips—and she did the first bizarre thing that popped into her head.

She kissed him.

Her eyes were squeezed tight the second she leaned in as she braced herself for the involuntary head-butt that was sure to follow.

But instead of his forehead colliding with hers, Lowell stiffened, his lips just as still against hers as was the rest of his body.

Tara pulled back slowly.

The shock of what she'd done didn't wear off. But neither did the fear that had him in a frenzy to begin with.

"You good?" Tara asked. Lowell nodded slowly, looking down toward her lap. "look…we don't know the whole story…and I Know it sounded bad…I'm not trying to deny that but there's nothing we can do about it…and…it's like you said…the club's not as bad as everyone says, right?"

"That was before—"

"—I believe you," Tara added quickly. "You know why? John Teller…I don't know about the rest of them but JT's a good man and so is Piney." Lowell looked up at her and she offered him a small smile. "He's their friend. Jax told me a long time ago that JT's the one that hired him."

Lowell nodded, wiping at his eye. "JT's the only one that would give my dad a shot after he got clean the second time around."

"You and your dad and your mom…you're like family to him," Tara said. She reached her hand up to lightly lift his chin. "Trust me, LJ….if there's one thing I know for sure about John Teller….he always looks out for his family no matter what." Lowell nodded. "It's gonna be okay."

"Thanks."

Tara's smiled widened then. "You've been thanking me all night," she said. "How about I give you a real reason to be thankful? There's a party at the Hale's. We should crash it…Get your mind off whatever's going on with your dad."

Lowell was scratching his neck again. "I wasn't invited."

Tara giggled. "That's why it's called party-crashing."

"I don't know…"

"Check this out," Tara said. "The party is supposed to be some welcome back shit for Sarah Hale...I can't stand that bitch. I stole the guy she likes to fuck so she can't stand me either. I broke David Hale's heart by choosing to be with the guy I stole from his sister. And I don't even have to tell you about the mutual hatred between me and that pillsbury dough boy Jacob Hale. Moral of the story? I'm pretty sure I'm not invited either. But it's an unsupervised High school party at a rich kids house so there's gonna be plenty of free booze to help me along with not giving a shit if my presence bothers any of them. You wanna tag along?"

"Sounds like a lot of drama," Lowell answered.

Tara shook her head. "No drama. Just fun And if that doesn't work out I got one hell of a right hook...but you know that already, don't you?"

"Two minutes," Tara promised, holding up two fingers to Lowell as she reached for the handle, pushing her car door open.

She hustled towards her yard, briskly jogging up her walkway to head inside.

"Where's the fire, Knowles?"

Tara paused, fixing her mouth into a scowl before turning towards him. "Oh you can see me now? I must have been wearing my invisibility cloak back at the high school."

"Can you see who you're talking to?" Opie challenged. "I'm Opie Winston…the other outlaw son, not Jax. You sure you want me to tell you all the ways what happened with Gemma was your fault?"

Tara crossed her arms. "It doesn't matter what I said. That doesn't give her the right—,"

"One…I'm not excusing shit…Gemma snapped and believe me Tara that wasn't fun to watch...Two...you and Donna love to attack people when you're pissed off so you can go ahead and hop off that horse….it's way too tall for you and my fun-sized girlfriend. Three….I wasn't just standing there doing nothing. I had fun-size wrapped in my arms because her crazy ass was already running towards y'all before I could blink to make sure I wasn't seeing things!"

"Seriously?" Tara smirked, picturing Donna trying to break up any fight that wasn't between two ants. "What did she think—"

Opie shook his head. "—I'm not done...four...I can't believe you actually think I would let anybody hurt you…especially after you saw what I did to that asshole Council—"

"—I didn't ask you to do that," tara cut him off, her voice smaller and not nearly as haughty as it was at the start.

"You didn't have to! That's the point!"

"Alright, alright…I'm sorry, Opie," Tara groaned. "I just knew you were gonna be on my ass about what happened with Jax and I'm really not in the mood for an 'I told you so' so I struck first."

"I did warn—"

"See! I don't want to hear that shit!" Tara snapped. "Instead of making me feel bad about trying to avoid him throwing a tantrum over nothing why don't you go tell him off for fuckin some skank in the van I have to pack and unload groceries from?!"

Opie cocked an eyebrow. "Him and Sarah—?"

"No! And do you actually think it makes a difference who it was?" Tara screeched. "He did it to hurt me...and if you heard all the shit he said to me you wouldn't be so damn smug…or maybe you would be…they say birds of a feather flock together. Maybe there's a reason for all of Donna's antics..."

Opie blew out a heavy breath. "You want to know what I think?"

Tara rolled her eyes. "Do I ever want to know what you think?"

"How about what I don't think?" he countered.

"Sure," Tara bit back sarcastically. "That'll be a nice change from the usual."

Jackass.

"I don't think you ever liked David in the first place."

My eyes are gonna get stuck in the back of my head if I keep rolling them.

Tara narrowed her eyes, hand on her hip. "Why would I go out with him if I didn't like him?"

"Jax sleeps around because he's a slut... and he's a guy…in case you didn't notice sluts like having sex, Tara. So do guys. And guys like sex a lot even when they're not man-whore's," Opie said, using air quotes for the adjective she often ascribed to the slut in question. "I'm a guy, Tara. So I would know."

"What the hell does that have to do with David?"

"The only reason you went out with him was to piss Jax off," Opie explained. "Jax screwing everything that walks isn't about you. But, Davey boy? That was all about him."

Tara scoffed, green eyes rolling towards the sky yet again. "That's a nice theory you got there, Detective Winston…too bad it doesn't make any damn sense. I never once threw David in Jax's face. That stupid bitch Sarah did! If it wasn't for her he'd never even know we were together because I broke up with him today…dumb ass."

"After."

HUH?

Tara's eyebrows bunched together. "What?"

"You hid it from him after you finally stopped pretending you hated him."

Okay, fine. I blamed him for JT.

How many times do I have to apologize for the same shit?

"And what about before our little heart to heart?"

Opie's eyebrows shot towards his scalp. "Hale was hiding you from his parent's wasn't he?"

Ughh. So fuckin what?

"You're trying to say I've been using David this whole time?"

That's bullshit…

"I'm not trying to say it," Opie corrected. "I am saying it. DUH."

"You're making me sound like Sarah."

Opie shrugged. "She was your best friend wasn't she? Birds of a feather..."

Tara punched him in his chest.

Opie chuckled, not even bothering to rub the spot her fist had landed on. "What were you saying about Gemma being out of line?"

"Fuck you."

"Why does everybody want to fuck me today?"

"Ewww."

Opie laughed harder. "Relax. You're not as bad as Sarah…or Jax. Sarah fucked with my head just to get under his skin. Then she got her brother's ass kicked by starting trouble when she got burned. And today Jax fucked some girl whose name he won't even remember tomorrow right in front of you because he's just as spiteful as the girl that won't stop chasing him. What you did was fucked up but compared to those two idiots you're like…heartbreaker-lite or some shit."

"Thanks, Yogi Jr. I feel so much better."

"You used him," Opie repeated. "The only difference is you didn't have the heart to follow thru… I don't know if it was more because you were scared Jax would walk away from you like you did to him—for no goddamn reason"—Opie paused to answer her scowl with a shit-eating grin—"…. or if you finally realized you were gonna really hurt both of them and you didn't want to. Either way you tapped out. You wanted the situation to fix itself. And it didn't. Jax pulled a dick move today….but this entire situation is your fault...just like with Gemma."

"I didn't know David was in love with me!" Tara argued, shaking her head. "If I'd known I would have never—"

"—hooked up with him because the guy you really want can't stand his ass?"

UGHHHHH.

"You and Donna are meant for each other," Tara cracked. "You're both annoying as hell. And you think you know every damn thing."

"Donna's not even reactive," Opie said, shaking his head. "That girl is over-reactive. I have no idea what the hell her problem is….but you…you're in the middle somewhere…crazy as hell just like every other chick I know…but every once in a while you're lucid."

"Oh yeah?" Tara challenged. "Then where the hell is my moment of clarity?"

Opie shrugged. "Let's take what happened today out of the equation….name one thing Jax has ever done to hurt you? Jax. Not his old man. Not his mother. Not any of the girls he's fucked. Name one time he has ever tried to hurt you?"

Tara's mind went blank.

"Uh…Tara? Did you change your mind about the party?"

Lowell's voice rang out minutes later.

His question came after minutes of the two of them standing there, staring each other down.

Tara's face alternated between angry and dumbfounded while Opie's face never changed.

He was smug as ever.

And he was happy to rub it in.

"Clarity," Opie whispered. He squeezed her shoulder lightly before brushing past her, continuing the path towards his father's truck.

I hate you.

"Even if I am in the wrong that doesn't mean I'm gonna put up with his shit!" Tara responded to his retreating back. "I'm not gonna keep apologizing to him either!"

"You're welcome!" Opie yelled, getting in the truck, slamming the door shut.

I really do hate you.

"Tara?"

Tara's eyes snapped over to the awkward young man, wringing his hands together. "No. We're still going," she answered. Opie's right again. I'm gonna need my good friend Tequila to wash that shit down. "Just let me run inside and get my jacket."

"Okay...cool."

Tara didn't know how she was going to survive the party without bleeding from her ears. She questioned whether Lowell could hear her talk over the music blasting.

And they were still outside the house.

Turns out, by some miracle she could. She found out when Lowell turned towards her, scratching absently at that one spot on his neck.

"So I've been thinking…if we both get drunk whose gonna drive us home?"

Tara smiled. "You my friend….are the responsible boy parent's dream their daughters will bring home…good point. I tell you what…you drink and I'll dance. If I still feel as shitty as I did when I came I'll crack open one of my old man's bottles before I go to bed. Deal?"

"ummm…"

"Have you ever even had a drink before?"

"I had a sip of a beer once."

Tara giggled. "This is gonna be fun...I've always wanted to corrupt someone." Tara grabbed a hold of his hand, pulling him towards the house. "Let's get you your first shot….who knows…the Tequila might make you bold enough to feel me up when we're dancing."

Tara wondered if he could hear her laughter over the increasing volume of the music when Lowell tripped over his feet, falling into the front door.

Music blared from the speakers mounted up on the walls in every corner of the crowded high-ceiling room. She weaved her way through the pack of sweaty, overheated bodies—a blend of her fellow Charming High classmates and a crowd of what were unmistakably a pack of Jacob Jr's college buddies and other local teens.

She craned her neck, searching for the closest bar area when a cluster of familiar faces caught her eye.

Sitting in the corner on one of four scotch-guarded lounge chairs—that were clearly moved aside so the guest could dance—was Jax and three of the many members of his fan club.

Ima, Maize and the dark-haired girl whose name she refused to learn were dancing around him like his own personal go-go girls. All that was missing were the poles or a table to stand up on top of.

Tara turned towards the tapping on her shoulder. As soon as she looked at him, Lowell pointed. She followed his finger to the spot she was looking for.

Forcing herself not look towards the corner—his corner, again she lead the way towards the liquor cabinet closest to her, pulling a bottle of Tequila from the middle shelf. Forgoing the pact she'd made with Lowell out on the steps, she poured them both a shot into two glasses she'd pulled from the counter in between the two cabinets.

She knocked it back without hesitation. Lowell was hesitant, bringing the tiny cup to his lips.

Tara shook her head. "You gotta"—she cut her instructions short as it dawned on her that he couldn't hear her. She poured another shot in her glass, held it up in front of Lowell, her eyebrows raised. She threw her head back just a little slower than before, pouring the scorching liquid down on her throat. Looking over at him she nodded in encouragement.

Lowell shrugged his shoulders the way only he could and did exactly as she'd done.

I might have to keep him around just for grins and giggles, Tara thought as she laughed, patting his back when he choked a little.

She poured him another one.

He repeated the act.

Tara leaned over the bar top, reaching for a beer from the ice bucket on the floor behind it.

She didn't miss the way Lowell eyes drifted towards her ass in the snug-fitti jean skirt she'd decided to change into when she went to grab her jacket.

He looked seconds away from accidentally swallowing his tongue—and it excited her.

The only problem was…he wasn't the real source of the excitement. It was the fantasy running through her head. The one where Jax couldn't keep his eyes off of her.

She put off looking over where he was by pouring herself another shot. Lowell look a little less alarmed than he would have without the liquor heating him up—but he still looked alarmed nevertheless.

Tara winked at him before throwing back another shot.

Relax, champ. It's only three shots.

She popped the cap off the beer, handing it over to him. When he sipped from it, she shook her head, throwing her head back again an imaginary beer hovering over her mouth. Lowell got the picture, quickly guzzling it down—well most of it anyway. Some made its way to his T-shirt.

Satisfied she'd loosened him up enough, she grabbed both his hands.

"Let's dance."

In case he couldn't read her lips, she pulled him towards the floor, swaying to the music that was blasting above them, making the floor thump beneath their feet.

She thought he'd need a little push.

But all she had to do was turn around, brushing back against him once and his hands flew to her waist so fast it actually shocked her.

It was a pleasant surprise.

Tara responded in kind. Pretty soon they were oblivious to the crowd going wild as they somehow managed to make it towards the center of the semicircle forming around them.

No other explanation made sense.

Lowell Harland Junior had obviously watched Dirty dancing a couple hundred times more than Tara—with a heavy emphasis on the dirty part. With every move he made against her Tara grew bolder until she'd completely forgotten the reason she'd wanted to dance with him in the first place.

What was that reason?

Tara hips swerved to Lowell, not the music. She couldn't help thinking she was possessed as she couldn't believe the way her own hands were sliding up and down her body, caressing all the places every straight guy in the room yearned to touch.

Tara didn't know it yet, but that list included Jackson Teller.

Satisfied she'd given enough of a taste of what her backside felt like she shifted against him again, pulling him closer as he spun her around, her back facing towards the gap where the semicircle surrounding them ended.

She didn't give a shit where Sarah was, if she wanted her there.

And she couldn't care less if David was somewhere watching her—unless he was enjoying the show. That would make her very happy.

What the hell else was in those shots I did?

Swiping the hair out her face, a few strands still sticking to her forehead—Tara snaked an arm around Lowell's neck, lightly nudging his head down towards her.

Following her lead, he leaned into her, his mouth so close to joining with hers. But instead of locking lips he tilted his head to the side. She thought he chickened out until she felt his lips lightly brush her neck.

It's liquid.

It's courage.

It's liquid courage!

There was no way he couldn't hear her giggled this time—it was right in his ear.

That was why she assumed he'd misread the meaning behind it when he pulled away from her.

She was wrong.

When she peered up at him in question, the first thing she noticed was the sudden absence of glazed over, turned on look in his dark eyes. The second thing he noticed was the terror that took its place.

Lowell went from giving her his own inexperienced Do-me-baby look to his eyes ballooning like someone was being stabbed to death behind her.

He looked petrified.

Tara turn to look glance over her shoulder.

And her gaze was met with the glare of Jackson Teller.

Well, almost.

Not quite.

He wasn't glaring at her.

He was shooting daggers at Lowell.

So I guess someone is getting stabbed.

You are.

Instead of concern for her friend or shame for doing just what Opie had accused her of doing with David all Jax's reaction did was incite another case of the giggles.

It was Jax's glare and the astonished expression on the faces of all the girls dancing for him, dancing on him—all the girls he was ignoring to drink in her every move.

With a high like this, why did anyone do drugs?

Lowell missed the humor in the situation, clamming up the more she moved against him trying to get him back into the groove they were in before.

She finally got him to move again but all the liquid courage was gone. He barely brushed against her.

He was killing her buzz.

No, Jax was.

Before the frown she shot towards Lowell could settle in her face good someone grabbed her from behind. Tara jumped, quickly turning around.

He was twice her height and at least two times her size.

And he did not have permission to grab her ass.

She couldn't make out what he was saying but it didn't matter.

She shook her head once, backing away when he reached for her waist. She shook her head again when he ignored her decline closing the gap between them again.

Reaching for her the third time was the final straw.

Tara was seeing red when she swung her fist towards his face, following her punch up with a hard knee to the groin. He wasn't keeled over more than a few seconds before he stood up rod-straight—all six feet, three inches of him.

He was pissed, the anger and frustration roiling off him, snuffing out whatever righteous fight she had in her as fear took its place. The onslaught of the music against her eardrums couldn't quite match the sound of her heartbeat speeding up, thrumming a bruise against her rib cage.

His expression was a lot like Gemma's right before she started choking her. Tara's flinch was at the ready for the strike that was sure to come.

But then the Frat boy did something Gemma Teller would never care enough to do. He took in his surroundings. His eyes darted left to right at the crowd of witnesses—people who may or may not take issue with him hitting her back.

Flaring his nostrils, Frat boy bumped shoulders with Lowell as he brushed past him. Tara watched as he yanked a beer from the bucket behind the bar.

Avoiding the crowd staring at the second scene she'd caused that Saturday she looked over at Jax.

He was on his feet, his fists clenched at his sides, shoulders rising and falling fast. But once again he wasn't doing what she'd wanted him to do all along—he wasn't looking at her.

He was too busy glaring at the asshole she'd just decked in the face. The one that looked like he wouldn't have hesitated to take a swing at her or worse if it had been just the two of them in an alleyway somewhere.

Jax had got up to protect her.

She knew it without ever seeing him move, without knowing how much he'd actually seen in between lap dances from his fan club.

That was why she stepped towards him, ready to make the first move in spite of all of three of them.

Then Maize pushed him back onto the couch, sitting on his leg. Ima sat on his other leg. Stacey assumed the position in the wide gap between his thighs.

She was okay.

He knew she was okay.

And it was back to being the fundraiser all over again, only this time Jax was intentionally ignoring her when he wrapped his arms around the two girls in his lap, running his hands up and down their thighs. The infamous Teller smile was a thousand megawatts as if he'd never been angry at all—and none of the brightness was for her.

Looking away, she searched the crowd for Lowell when she didn't find him immediately next to her. Her eyes found him leaning against the wall several feet away, next to some girl she recognized from her art class last year. She didn't need an up close look to know he was flirting with her. She looked every bit as tipsy as he was, and when she put her arm on his shoulder Tara cracked a wry smile, shaking her head.

Someone's not waking up a virgin tomorrow.

She couldn't help but feel bitter as she swerved her way through the crowd towards the bathroom down the familiar hallway.

Fuck a boyfriend.

All she wanted right now was someone to take the edge off all the sexual frustration that had been building up inside her ever since she'd tried to tease Jax and ended up getting herself all hot and bothered…taunting him about a meeting in the janitor's closet.

Ever since Jax eased his hands up the legs of her shorts in the cafeteria during detention.

Ever since she felt him brush against her stomach in Opie's bedroom.

Ever since he'd taunted her to kiss it better in the alley behind Lumpy's gym.

Or when he leaned in towards her right there in the backseat of Sarah's car, his breath tickling her ear as his palm pressed against her thigh, breaking the promise she never quite got him to make about keeping his hands where she could see them.

Ever since he pulled her earlobe between his teeth that night on Opie's bed.

Ever since she lost her damn mind, willing him with it to show her all the things she was missing out on, all the things that kept the girls running back to him right there in the middle of the girl's locker room.

Jax had stirred something in her.

It was unfortunate for him that he couldn't stop being righteous and angry long enough to see that he could have anything he wanted from her.

But did Tara share his misfortune? Moments like these, it damn sure felt like it.

But what would happened if he finally got what he wanted? Would he do what David said? Walk away? Could she shake off the pain? Would the moments of pleasure that came before it be enough to stop the world of hurt that followed from crushing her?

Tara pushed the bathroom door open absently, rolling her eyes in annoyance at the couple having sex on top of the sink.

Sarah took the time to toss her a wink, and a knowing smile before the next stroke Kyle rocked into her had her eyes fluttering closed.

Shaking her head, Tara made note of the mismatch of the honey-blonde's footwear as she moved to slam the door shut. On one foot was the kind of heels she'd expect from her former friend. On the other—a cast that obviously did nothing to stop her fun times with the SOA's latest prospect.

She didn't even look angry that the girl who was seconds away from kicking her ass earlier was in her house.

I hope you break the other foot, bitch, Tara thought as she stormed off, heading off for the staircase.

Tara Knowles was the friskiest cat around and she needed some goddamn satisfaction. Without it, the curiosity was sure to be the thing that killed her.

The steady bump of the music blasting from the speakers down below tickled the soles of her feet as she walked through the dark hallway, nostalgia hitting her hard when she stopped in front Sarah's bedroom door.

She'd spent the better part of her childhood in there. Slumber parties and plotting on ways to torture Jacob Jr. She couldn't help but feel a little disappointed when she turned the knob, discovering that it was locked.

What you hiding now, 'Rah? Tara wondered as she continued down the hall. She'd found the door she was looking for—the one attached to the second floor hallway bathroom, when something caught her eye. Directly across from the bathroom, his bedroom was cracked open slightly. Without thinking she diverged from her original destination, slipping into David's room for the first time ever.

His room was wall to wall awards, certificates, trophies and accolades. The sheets on his bed looked freshly made, his carpet brand new. Between that and the stellar organization of his computer desk and bookshelf his bedroom looked like something out of the athlete's edition of architectural digest.

Wow.

She headed towards his bathroom, making sure to check that both doors were locked, the one on David's end and the one to the adjoining bedroom—Jacob Jr's bedroom.

When she came out he was waiting for her—just outside the bathroom door.

She jumped at the sight of him, and he took her moment of surprise as an opportunity to pull the door she'd come in from shut—the same as the bedroom door she didn't remember closing behind her.

"That wasn't very nice what you did," Frat boy said, sneering down at her.

Tara backed away from him slowly—he was stray pitbull and she was terrified that running fast would only make it worse.

Her fingers tingled, begging to be balled up into fist, her legs quivered, anxious to be slid into position—a fighter's stance.

He laughed at the mix of emotions crossing her face. "Relax, doll…I'm not gonna hurt you," he slurred, moving closer to her, his pace increasing as she continued backing away. "But you hurt me... and you hurt my feelings…don't you think you should make it up to me?"

I should have never set foot in this house again.

The adrenaline was still there and she was no damsel in distress—she'd fight no matter what.

But she couldn't shake the paralyzing fear seeping into her marrow as two very obvious problems seized every ounce of confidence she had that she would get out of this okay.

One—drunk or sober, this guy wasn't Rick Vidal….he was bigger…soo much stronger.

Two—the music was too loud for anyone to hear if she screamed….when she screamed.

Tara refused to take her eyes off of him for a second.

That decision cost her greatly as she unconsciously backed herself into a corner. She realized too late that she had no way of getting past him.

The towering young man chuckled as her eyes widened when she caught on to what she'd done. Her back hit the wall at the same time the bedroom door he'd closed behind him flew open.

"There's two other bedrooms on this floor," Frat boy grumbled, reaching for Tara, completely oblivious that he now had a witness to his unwelcome advances. "This one's taken."

Tara craned her neck, looking over the sloshed frat boy's shoulders, her eyes meeting a familiar glare at the same time an equally recognizable voice rang out.

"Get the fuck away from her."

Tara never thought she'd ever be so excited to hear Jackson's angry voice.

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