Disclaimer: You all know the drill by now; I do not own anything to do with SOA, it's production or casting. SOA belongs to Sutter and FX. Only Grainne/Romana is my creation.

A/N: I'm going to be honest – one of the reasons I'm forever asking for reviews is because I'm some what insecure when it comes to my writing. One of my early English teachers never did anything but criticise and it's got to me, that every other teacher I've had since then found no fault in it made no difference and it's left quite a major hole in my confidence so can I please get some reviews?

Also, I know I'm writing Juice a little OOC in this chapter but I think he may just have this side to him...there's just something about him that makes me think he isn't quite as socially inept or completely hopeless as he is usually portrayed. I have a feeling that there maybe something just a little messed-up under what I consider to be the façade of club idiot

Six long weeks since Juice had come round (and inevitably spent the night), but I hadn't yet been able to be around any of them for very long. He'd gotten into my head and as hard as I tried there was no shaking him. Something as small as the brush of leather on skin would evoke vivid, explosive memories that quite happily left me in a dream world. Strange how you never completely remember the words, the setting or order of events...but you always seemed to remember the little touches, the scents, the breathlessness of the seemingly fleeting moments that would be difficult to ever recapture. The moments lived in the dream-world of memory and would fade with each passing rise and fall of the sunlight hours. I'd been stuck in this dream-world every day since that night and work were starting to get pretty pissy with me – at least the restaurant was. The now re-opened bar loved the transformation. However, it was a Wednesday morning which meant I was needed in the restaurant that so hated me at the moment.

I always felt over dressed for this job and was thankful that I could ride in dressed in leathers. At first the other members of staff had been rather put off by the appearance of psycho biker chick Romana, but they had got used to it over the last month and a half. I think the dreamy smile was the reason behind why my section of the eating area was almost always full at the moment – that and to be honest, I was damn good at my job. Not to brag or anything, but I was raised to tell the truth.

"Romana – you got a few new people waiting. Looks like your biker chick rep is out – it's full of leather waistcoats"

"They're called cuts Kate, not leather waistcoats. Whats on them?"

"I dunno – one looks like a reaper the rest I'm not sure about the others, it looks tribal. I was not making eye contact with them"

"Sons and Mayans. How stupid could they...Jean. If they don't kill him, I will"

"Talking to yourself again, not good sweetheart"

"Thank-you Sergio, I know I was talking to myself. Think you can help me out there?"

"Nasty mix?"

"Could be if we're not careful"

I think I was starting to surprise myself with just how many of the Mexican's I knew. I had to admit that I knew a number of the Mayans on sight and part of that was down to religion. Being of Gitano descent (Spanish Romani really...but I personally prefer the first option, plus it's far more modern than the latter) I was technically roman catholic, but I'm not really an avid church-goer. I'm more of a religious holidays and four sacraments girl. However, I'd been around a couple of times to one of the nearby congregations just to get a feel for it.

"Romana Bevan, how lovely to see you smiling as usual"

"Álvarez, how nice to see you again – I suppose you'll be after the usual"

"Of course"

"And your friends?"

"I feel the same all round would be in order"

"Of course, if you will give me a moment"

I hated him. He was just so creepy – hell knows what he wanted from me. He never came in unless I was on shift – I didn't know how he knew, but he did. The aforementioned Sergio had seen to Jean who'd wisely sat away from the Mayans – maybe there was a brain in that head behind those eyes – so dark, beautifully intense. Perfectly complimented by his smile – that smile that lit them up, his laugh that they danced to. I knew I was probably smiling like an idiot, the customers probably thought I was losing the plot, what with knowing bikers by name and not hesitating to mix with them, but why the hell should I care what anyone thought of me any more? This was my damn life and I was entitled to live it how I wanted...if that was in the arms of amo-hawked biker (even if only for one night) then that's what I would damn well do. Dropping the order off I was stopped and dragged out of another memory by one of the other waitresses talking to me.

"I know that smile – which one is he?"

"I don't have the first clue what you're talking about"

"Yeah right...it's the one you took the orders off, isn't it?"

"Who...Álvarez? No, he's way too old for my liking"

"Is he sat with them?"

"That would be telling. Besides, I'm not really one for Mexicans, but the Puerto-ricans have a certain charm to them"

"No fair, you know I'm hopeless when it comes to telling the Hispanics apart"

"Not my fault you grew-up in a league-dominated house"

I know, I really am a terrible, terrible person but it was so much fun to watch the poor girl trying to figure it out. Part of me did feel very sorry for her, having been forced to grow-up in a house full of neo-nazis when she was just a hippie at heart that wanted people to actually get on and to be allowed to play with next doors children. She'd never understood why she couldn't - they may have never been the same skin colour as her but she hadn't understood why that had made theminherently bad people. However, she'd learn as everyone else did in the end. Picking up the tray that was now filled with drinks, I tried to concentrate and not look over at my source of distraction. He was sat toying with the hem of his cut, slumped back in a seat and still waiting on someone to take his order. Had Sergio not bothered? Clearly. I knew he wasn't exactly friendly when it came to the Puerto-Ricans but to refuse to serve him? Honestly, sometimes the man was impossible to work with.

Leaving the drinks on the table with those who'd ordered already there was an unwelcome sting on my backside. That was not on and clearly I wasn't the only one who thought it. I had barely registered the incident before the instigators of the supposed assault were being removed from the building. Sometimes I was grateful that the restaurant was so strict on personal space and how their employees were supposed to be treated.

"Can't keep yourself out of trouble, can you mami?"

"Since when did you ever call anyone that?"

"Ever since a pretty Gitano called Romana walked into my life. I think that I'm actually on the ball for once is scaring the club which is messed up because I can't keep you out of my head"

"I'm working Jean...but the feeling is very much mutual"

"What time does your shift finish?"

"I have another hour and a half – then half an hour to change"

"I'll meet you outside in two hours then"

"Can I get you anything until then?"

"A drink – surprise me"

"Can do and will do"

Surprise...how about something alcohol-free? Try some real, filtered, top-line coffee. Surprise was my speciality, surely he knew that by now? Walk away with a sway of the hips, a smile on your lips and aim to please your public, the captive audience. Honestly, where was I going with this? My train of thought was all over the place and I honestly did not have the first clue as to where my thoughts were headed. I didn't know how to stop them in all their rambling glory and I didn't know if I wanted to. Sometimes it was good to ramble to oneself.

"So, how was your work day?"

"Hell on earth - after you left everything got very busy very quickly. Didn't stop for the rest of my shift"

"You should take it easy this evening, take the weight off your feet"

"I would love to, but I have far too much work to do at home"

"My god woman. Does the word stop mean anything to you?"

"I can't stop. I've never really done the whole relaxing thing. I haven't ever wanted to"

"Tonight you will stop"

"Who's going to make me...you?"

"I made you stop the other night. Do you remember?"

He'd so far been sat on his bike, eyes hidden behind black lens and silver-plated frame. Slipping off the frame, his eyes hid a certain mystery to them. Dark, intensive, evocative. He pushed memories to the surface, memories that triggered a deep heat in the pit of my stomach, spreading like wild fire through all other regions. Burning up legs, turning them to jelly, searing through every joint pushing me to rely on his strength. Arms had looped around me, pulling me further into him stoking the fire to an inferno. I could recall everything; the breathlessness, the meld of bodies, beads of sweat rolling down and over each little crevice, the illicit small cries and moans, the rhythms of heartbeats near perfect in synchronicity. Yes, I remembered with such clarity that there had to be something otherworldly to it and I was sure he could see that recalling, lustful look in my eyes. His smirk did things to me I never thought possible, gazing at me from behind the hooded, heavy eyes. The mingle of iron and something else hit my mouth...I'd been biting my bottom lip and split it. Work would go crazy at me but I didn't care.

"I take it from your reaction that you do remember"

"I suppose I must do. It's been so hard to not remember"

"Is that why you stayed away for so long?"

"Truthfully? Yes - I couldn't look at you with out getting the most vivid of flashbacks I think I've ever had"

"You seem almost ashamed of what happened. Are you?"

"No...I suppose you've made me jealous the others hanging around that seem to only be after someone for the night"

"So, after one night I made you a jealous woman...what would two nights do to you then I wonder"

"I...I don't know"

"How about this - you go home with me and we find out together"

"That's not a very good chat-up line Ortiz"

"I've never been all that good with them...so, voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir? Sorry, it's the only french I know"

"That's so wrong and even worse than the last one, but at least you're persistent. I think you mean tu veux coucher avec moi ce soir...to which I answer why the hell not? I've already gone there once and I don't have any complaints - they say it can only get better, right? Your place or mine?"

"Hey, no call for me to be anywhere until tomorrow, same goes for you unless they called you on to the next shift. I think we should take things a little slower"

"You're a terrible person, you know that don't you?"

He didn't answer, just smiled, eyes dancing again with a certain sparkle to them that let me know that he knew damn well what he was doing to me but couldn't care less. Maybe there was a twisted streak to the club idiot that he hadn't bother to inform me about. Or anyone else for that matter. Did they even know he was here? Surely he hadn't finished his working day already...it just didn't seem to make sense that he would finish this early. Usually I'd be in Charming for two hours before Teller-Morrow closed up and another hour before Kip would swing past to check on me. He'd made a habit of doing so since finding out where I'd moved to. I'd been trying to keep it quiet, but ever since Opie and Jax had spotted my bike outside it'd somehow got round. Of course, they both proclaimed their innocence but we all knew that they couldn't have kept it quiet. Men usually can't keep their mouths shut - they were worse than woman at times.

He whispered something – what it was I couldn't tell you I was that damn lost – as his fingers found their way to my lower stomach, slowly brushing up and down my hip bones, if I hadn't been struck dumb before now I finally knew what people meant when they said it was impossible to speak in this situation. I could not find any of my words, I shouldn't be doing this – at least not in the staff car park. There was the tingle of cool flesh slipping past the waistband of my trousers, where the sensation rested for a moment, leaving me practically breathless. I was holding my breath, waiting for his next move but he didn't make one other than to wrap his spare arm around my waist and drag me closer where he held me for how ever long it was – it could have been seconds, it could have been an hour. What was time when lost in this bliss? I want to scream because this had to be what was considered true torture. Closing my eyes and biting down on the already split lip I could taste a flood of coppery blood coat me again. I knew this attempt to gain control of a rebellious body and raging libido was hopeless. I didn't stand a chance at finding the control I desired and the bastard knew it. He was using that to his advantage and what could I do, but stand there and wish he'd do something. Anything. Quite frankly I'd be happy to fuck him there.

He whispered something – what it was I couldn't tell you I was that damn lost – as his fingers found their way to my lower stomach, slowly brushing up and down my hip bones, if I hadn't been struck dumb before now I finally knew what people meant when they said it was impossible to speak in this situation. I could not find any of my words, I shouldn't be doing this – at least not in the staff car park. There was the tingle of cool flesh slipping past the waistband of my trousers, where the sensation rested for a moment, leaving me practically breathless. I was holding my breath, waiting for his next move but he didn't make one other than to wrap his spare arm around my waist and drag me closer where he held me for how ever long it was – it could have been seconds, it could have been an hour. What was time when lost in this bliss? I want to scream because this had to be what was considered true torture. Closing my eyes and biting down on the already split lip I could taste a flood of coppery blood coat my mouth again. I knew this attempt to gain control of a rebellious body and raging libido was hopeless. I didn't stand a chance at finding the control I desired and the bastard knew it. He was using that knowledge to gain a bigger advantage and what could I do, but stand there and wish he'd do something. Anything. Quite frankly I'd be happy to fuck him there.

"Juice, not here...please"

"So answer my question. Do you know the meaning of the word stop?"

"Yes"

"Good, now I think you should answer your own question...your place or mine?"

"I really don't give a damn"

"No-ones compared to you - do you know that? You've made every sweetbutt and crow eater hopeless in comparison. I'm not sure if I want to share you. I'm a selfish person, I know, but someone like you should be kept to one person only"

"Is that an invitation to be your old lady?"

"Maybe...we'll see"

His eyes were roving, half-closed, hooded under heavy lashes and I don't think I'd ever seen such lustful worship come from a sole person in my whole damn life. I'd never been anything to anyone, just another hopeless case and easy lay. I'd determined that I'd not be that way when I got here and I knew he'd figure out that my story was bullshit when he noticed that I didn't have any scarring. I could think of a way out of that. Maybe. I wasn't sure...I'd just have to play this one by ear. There was a wave of warmth, a brush of lips against my neck, letting my head fall back down to look at him, the touch of soft flesh - a hand - distracted me for a moment. Leaning into the caress slightly lost what control I did have and found the natural drive to respond to the touch of his lips against mine. The hand that had been at my cheek trailed down, applying a very light pressure to my hip came as a surprise - a welcome one, but still a surprise. That small gasp that I had no control over left a smirk on his face when he pulled away to look at me, head tilted to one side, seemingly examining me. I could feel the weakness spreading again; the whole legs turning to jelly thing you're forever hearing about that you think is total bullshit? Turns out that actually it really happens. Maybe not with very many people, but certainly with him.

"Ride with me...or think you can stand long enough to ride by yourself?"

"I need to ride by myself, otherwise this is just gonna sit here all night and it'll probably get taken by someone"