Tara

"I... I've never done this before," I admitted, standing in front of Jax Teller's motorcycle and feeling a small flutter of anxiety in my chest. I'd never been on a motorcycle, and the unfamiliarity left me in a slight panic. What if I fell off? He'd offered me a ride home after our late, unexpected roof conversation, and I'd obliged, forgetting that he was the son of a Son. The Sons of Anarchy - infamous, respected, and feared, of course I knew who he was, or who he was going to be.

I just forgot the bike automatically came with it.

Jax jovially chuckled at me, grabbing a solo helmet and handing it over. "You look ridiculously terrified right now," He mused, raising an eyebrow in playful sarcasm. "I'm not asking you to disarm a bomb, Tara Knowles. Trust me, you'll be fine."

I couldn't help but smile back at him, the easy way he interacted with me and the twist of his lips when he smirked. Grunge, dangerous, reckless and all, Jax Teller was absolutely attractive and I couldn't stop staring at him. Neither could a lot of girls at school, I'd noticed, but the kind of life I'd been bullied into that night never had anything to do with me. I was quiet, smart, conservative Tara. I'd never smoked, I'd had one beer and a few sips of wine in my entire teenage life. I spent my days taking care of my drunk father, who mourned my mother, and adopting the local library as my second dwelling. Loud parties and even louder motorcycles had never landed in my agenda.

I took the helmet from Jax in automatic trust. After all, he'd just saved my life, and somehow, despite the fact that something horrible could have just happened to me in that bedroom, I felt okay. Jax helped me feel okay.

"Alright then, Jax Teller."

He smiled at me again before situating himself on his bike, pushing a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose. I couldn't decide if they were for reading, or for riding, but he looked handsomely clever in them. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I slid onto the back of his motorcycle after fastening his helmet on my head, and it felt like leaping into the unknown. Jax reached around and very gently gathered my arms, guiding them to link around his middle. I could tell he did this extra carefully, avoiding the bruises on my wrists.

"Hold on tight, okay?"

"Okay," I breathlessly responded, feeling the motor spring to life underneath us. The motor roared, and Jax's leg kicked off the stand, using his legs to keep us centered. And then he took off. I closed my eyes at first, clutching his abs tighter then before, the thrill of the ride shocking me. Then slowly, I relaxed, peering out under my eyelashes and over Jax's leather coated shoulder and out into the starry night. It was... honestly exhilarating.

I felt free. I felt alive.

"I'm on west street!" I shouted out to him over the rippling wind. He gave me a silent nod and turned, heading the way of my house.

The ride lasted shorter than I'd wanted it to. By the end of it, I was wishing to travel cross country on the back of mysterious stranger, Jax Teller's bike, stopping at small diner's and investing ourselves in more intriguing conversations, just the two of us. I had a knack for developing book-like fantasies in my head, grasping onto dreams that were just as thrilling as they were changing. I wanted more than Charming. I wanted more than to play nurse for my deadbeat father, and the course of invisibility. It was why I agreed to that party – Jax's party, though I hadn't known it was his. I wanted more, I wanted excitement. I wanted experience.

"Which one?" Jax's bike was slowing now, on my street.

"The fourth house, down on the left."

Jax slowed more, down to a stop in front of my address. The lights were still on, but I knew my father would be slumped in his chair, an empty bottle of whiskey at his bare feet. I easily hoisted myself off of Jax's bike with a lackluster sigh, unlatching his helmet to return.

"Thank you. For the ride, and... you know, what you did back there," I earnestly told him, offering back his helmet. As he took it from me, he nodded with a half grin.

"No problem. It wouldn't be a Teller birthday without a ceremonial ass beating, so thanks for the opportunity," He mischievously teased, smirking as he put his helmet on.

I smiled back at him, hugging my arms to my chest against the chill of the wind. "Well, then, you're welcome, I guess." I shrugged playfully, taking a few steps backwards, making to head inside. Would I see him again after this?

Jax took a beat, his smile fading into seriousness as he looked at me. "You going to be okay?" I knew he was referring to the incident. Was he always this caring and sensitive? When I saw him around Charming, I always got the sense that he was stony, hard, and hot-headed, a teen headed on a dark, corrupted path. The hot-headed fact proved to be true, but the calm way he was around me left me guessing. What was inside of Jax Teller? Who was he, really?

I wanted to know.

"I'll be fine. Thank you." I stared back to him, wondering, his blue eyes reflecting the moon back at me.

Jax nodded in accord, kicking his bike back to life. "Sleep well, Tara."

"Happy birthday, Jax." I smiled, and he smiled back, before he sped back down the street, disappearing into the night.

As I closed my eyes in bed that night, I felt a sense of endless opportunity. I felt change.