July, 2017

One:

My seventeenth had gone according to plan. It was a great night while I was surrounded by my nearest and dearest friends in our favourite divebar that didn't ask questions or take a second glance at our fake IDs. They didn't look close to real, but the bartender was happy for the large tips that we were sending his way with every shout, so the drinks kept flowing.

I stubbed out my cigarette and threw it in one of the ashtrays on the table in front of me, leaning back on my seat to enjoy the fresh air. It was a habit that I needed to get out of, something that I only did when I'd gotten to the state between tipsy and drunk, but I'd needed it.

Peter, a friend that I'd had since I went to high school, had been trying to touch me all night and he'd been grating on my nerves. I knew that he hated me smoking and wouldn't follow me outside, so I'd used the excuse that I needed nicotine to try and get some space.

He'd been trying to take me on a date for three months and was getting more frustrated every time that I told him no, something that he wasn't used to in our world. Being the Mayor's kid got you out of a lot of situations and seemed to turn everybody's lips up, even if it was a fake smile.

"Jazzy, what's taking so long?"

Think of the Devil and he shall appear.

I opened my eyes and took in the sight of Peter, with his skin tight jeans and button down shirt that clung to his chest. He was still lean in a teenage way that happened because of his fast metabolism and Captaincy of the school's football team, but he'd been beginning to grow biceps and he liked to show that off.

His green eyes were narrowed in my direction, blonde hair gelled back with too much product, and he had his arms crossed around his waist like I'd done something wrong. Like it wasn't my birthday, and I wasn't allowed to do what I wanted.

"I was just finishing my smoke, Peter." I let out a long sigh and stood up from the picnic table. I felt utterly ridiculous in the tiara that I had on my head that he'd insisted I wear after he'd given it to me on our drive over, but I hadn't wanted to cause a scene before the night even started, so I'd put it on. "I'm coming back in now."

His lips pulled up in distaste when he eyed the cigarette I'd just finished. "You really need to quit, Jazzy. It's filthy, it makes you look cheap."

Once upon a time his words would have stung, but they flew over my head like I hadn't heard them. He'd been saying a lot about my choices in the past three months while he'd been 'grooming' me to be the perfect girl, someone that he could have by his side. Apparently the fact that I didn't want to be by his side meant little.

"I like it." I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly. "It makes me calm."

He shook his head in annoyance but didn't say anything, just kept staring at me from a few feet away.

When I was in reaching distance he glanced around at the people who were sitting at the other tables on the deck, drinking and smoking and enjoying their night, then grabbed my hand and led me out the front onto the pavement.

I had to hold back my groan so that I didn't seem rude or piss him off, but I wasn't in the mood for the conversation that he wanted to have. He probably thought that after a few shots of Jack I would be easier to convince to go on a date. Little did he know, the alcohol had only made me more annoyed at him and reaffirmed my decision that he wasn't the one for me.

He'd walked into the divebar that I loved with his lips turned up, eying the dirty tables and rough-looking patrons with obvious disgust before I dragged him over to my regular table where our friends were already waiting for us with shots lined up. I'd never taken him there because I knew that he would hate it, and I didn't want him to be a dick about my home away from home.

"Jazzy, I've been thinking about it, and I think it's time for you to agree to let me take you on a date." He smiled at me, but I could see that it was forced and I cringed.

"I've told you a million times, Peter, I'm not interested in you like that." I kept my tone light. "I'm thankful for your friendship, but I'm not interested in anything else."

His eyes gleamed with anger, plan not going how he'd expected it to, and he gripped my hand tighter in his own. "I think you need to reconsider, Jazzy."

"No, I don't." I said firmly. "I'm not going to date someone that I don't have feelings for, and I don't have feelings for you."

"You think that you're going to do better than me?" He threw his head back and laughed arrogantly. "I'm the best that you're ever going to get. You're just a drunk who's parents don't give a shit about her, who smokes and spends her time around thugs."

I glanced around the deck to make sure that nobody had listened to him. I liked all of the 'thugs' that he'd reffered to, I liked how they seemed to accept me and let me be part of the furniture without bothering me. I liked that they were free.

The sound of footsteps hitting the road hit my ears, and I wondered if I would have the chance to escape the conversation before it could escalate further if someone was around.

"Hey, babe."

A voice like gravel washed over me and I snapped my head towards the boy - no man, he was definitely all man - who'd stopped on the gutter next to me.

He was tall, way taller than me, and I made his shoulders while I was standing on the higher platform next to him. His head was bald, and I could see the edgings of a tattoo on the top of it, but I couldn't begin to fathom what it was.

Even in the darkness, I could see how brown his eyes were, and they were trained on where Peter still had my hand clasped in his own. There was a mixture of fury and something else there that I couldn't even begin to understand, so I just eyed him.

He was wearing large black combat boots on his feet that looked like they'd help deliver a mean kick if he wanted to, baggy black jeans and a black shirt that showed off how muscular he was underneath it. Overtop of all of it was a leather vest that filled me in that he was a member of the Tacoma charter of the Sons of Anarchy.

Apart from meetings with some of the members at the bar, I'd never really had anything to do with the group of outlaws. I'd been born on the 'other side of the tracks', and had never met one of them until I'd started frequenting Billy's. Much to my family's dismay if they ever found out, I didn't listen to the rumours and had never felt uncomfortable or unsafe in their presence. Hell, after a few meetings, I'd begun doing shots with the members who were there whenever I was.

But I'd never seen that man before.

He stepped up to join us on the concrete and wrapped his arm around my waist, then tugged me firmly into his side. While he was elevated to our height, I came to his collarbones, he made me feel tiny. "This piece of shit bothering you?"

I looked up at him with widened eyes before realisation of what he was doing quickly dawned on me, and I snuggled in closer to his side. He smelt like whiskey and beer, cigarettes and leather. He smelt so fucking good that I wanted to press my face into his chest and sniff him. "Hey baby, thanks for coming. Peter was just having a momentary lapse of judgement, he's had too much to drink."

Peter dropped my hand and looked at the spot that the stranger and I were joined, pressed tightly together by our midsections. The anger on his face was obvious. "Jazzy, who the fuck is this?"

"Her man." The stranger who'd come to my rescue leant forward slightly, invading his personal space. "You harassing my girl, Peter?"

Even though he'd only said his name, his tone was deadly and Peter's face went pale before he stepped back and held his hands up wide. "I didn't know that she was taken."

"I told you that I wasn't interested." I snapped, the last of my self control over the situation gone. "I've been telling you for three months that I'm not interested. How many times do I have to say no before you get the message and leave me alone?"

Peter looked taken aback by my outburst, but the fury returned to his face. "You're honestly dating him? Really, Jazzy? I'm offering you me, and you're dating this ... this ..."

He couldn't find the word and I silently prayed that he would shut the hell up before he got the crap bashed out of him. The man beside me had tensed at the insult that was about to be thrown his way, and I shook my head.

"This biker trash?"

"Shut you're damned mouth, Peter." I glared. "He's my man, I'm his girl, and I'm happy to let him knock you around a bit you ever call him trash again. Actually, just don't ever speak about him again. In fact, don't speak to me again."

Peter's eyes widened like he'd never seen me before or I'd just said something earth shattering. "I should have known that you'd just be another biker whore. Wouldn't let me get between your legs, but I bet you're spreading it for the rest of his gang, as well."

I'd never been a violent person in my life, I'd always been calm and collected because that's how I'd been raised. But my hand struck out and slapped him across his face without thinking about it, and I felt my eyes turn icy. I was surprised to find that I hadn't hit him because of what he'd said about me - I didn't even care, he was a drunk idiot who was speaking out of his ass because he couldn't handle that he'd lost -, but because I'd taken his insult to the man who'd rescued me personally.

"It's not a gang, you idiot." I snapped. "It's a club of Harley enthusiasts."

I had never been so grateful that I'd been eavesdropping on my father's conversation and had heard him tell his business partner what the Sons of Anarchy had told the town about themselves. He'd been frazzled when he'd said it, then strung out a hurl of abuse about them being outlaw thugs who were idiots if they believed the town would let them partake in illegal activities.

"I would suggest that you run along now, boy."

When I finally looked back up at the man who was standing beside me, I saw the deadly look in his eyes despite his face being blank, and I gripped his shirt in my hand. "Yeah, my man and I have got some catching up to do."

Peter glared at both of us before he stormed back inside, holding his red cheek.

"You okay, little girl?"

The concern in his voice floored me, and I smiled at him with reassurance. "I'm honestly the best I've been in a long time. Thank you for coming to my rescue."

He nodded his head and untangled himself from my arms to take a step away from me. I tried to hold back the disappointed sigh and ignore the way that the cold air seemed to entangle me in it's grasp at the lack of contact. "He's a fucking dick."

"Yeah." I shrugged my shoulders. "He's the Mayor's son. Like father like son, you know?"

When we settled back into silence, I held my hand out in front of me. "I'm Jasmine, by the way."

He stared at my hand like he didn't know what to do, then shook it. "Happy."

"Happy?" He nodded to confirm my question. "I like it."

One of the sides of his lips turned up, but he didn't say anything and I dropped his hand before I took a step back so I stopped invading his space. He didn't seem like someone who liked to be touched more than necessary. "Well, thanks for coming to my rescue, Happy. I hope you have a good night."

He tilted his head to the side. "You going back in?"

"No, I think I'm just going to call a cab and head home. It's been a long night, I'm ready for a bottle of whiskey in bed."

His eyes lit up and the smirk returned. He glanced at the tiara on my head. "Birthday?"

"Happy seventeenth."

The brown orbs widened slightly before he scowled and shook his head to clear his thoughts. "You're not getting in a cab while you're drunk and seventeenth on your birthday. C'mon, I'll take you home."

Before I could even argue that I was fine and I'd caught a lot of cabs drunk before, he settled his hand on the small of my back and walked me over to the bike that was parked in the lot across the road.

"Weren't you going in to have a drink?" I questioned when he handed me a helmet and slid onto the leather seat. "I don't mind catching a cab, I don't want to ruin your night."

He watched with interest while I disentangled the idiotic tiara from my head and threw it onto the gravel in the gutter. A small part of me felt smug that Peter would probably see it when he finally made his way back to his car.

"I can come back." He said gruffly and helped me do up the strap underneath my chin. "You ever ridden a bike before?"

I laughed loudly when I hopped on behind him, using his shoulders as leverage until I settled against his back. "No, but I get the logistics. Lean when you lean, hold on tight, don't scream too loudly."

"Smart girl." He commented. I could have sworn that I heard him mutter I'd like to hear you scream under his breath, but I didn't say anything because I wasn't sure if I'd heard him correctly.

He tapped his hands over my own twice to ensure that I was okay, and then we were off.

The feeling of being on the back of his bike was indescribable. It felt like I was free for the first time in my life, my escaped hair blowing in the wind around us, the cold air biting at my exposed skin.

When I laughed in excitement, he turned his head to the side and I saw the first real smile from him, before he revved the throttle and gained speed. We rushed down the highway and he took all of the necessary streets before he pulled into my driveway.

He didn't cut the engine, but he offered me a hand to help me off and I glanced at the large house in front of me before I raised an eyebrow. "How do you know where I live?"

Happy shrugged his shoulders. "Pretty face always stands out in a crowd, Jasmine. Seen you sitting out the front reading a few times."

His words filled me with a warmth and I slid the helmet off before I placed it on his head and loosened the straps so that I could do it up for him.

He was watching me warily like nobody had ever gone through the motions of keeping him safe before, and I leant forward and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for bringing me home, Happy. And for noticing me, I guess."

He nodded again before he looked at the darkened house and frowned. "Where's your family?"

"In Barbados, I think." I wracked through my brain. "No, maybe they're in France."

Happy's lips turned down. "They left you to go on vacation on your birthday?"

"I chose to stay. Would rather be alone than pretend to be the perfect daughter." I shrugged while I explained. I didn't know why I'd said the words out loud, but Happy unnerved me and I seemed to speak my mind around him. "They probably would have a mental breakdown if they saw you bring me home, anyway."

"Free bird." He commented lightly before he jutted his chin out in the direction of the house. "I'll stay here until you get inside. Lock the door behind you."

"Yes, sir." I kissed his cheek again and then spun on my heel and walked up the steps.

I'd just unlocked my door when I heard him call out. "Free bird?"

"Hmm?" I spun around to look at him in all of his sex-god-glory, still seated on the beast of a machine that he'd just driven me home on.

"Happy birthday, little girl."