Thanks for the kind words, loves. :) And thanks to Lynn from some high-quality beta'ing.

why can't i be your lover?
can there be another?
and when i feel without i want to get you in
Better Than Ezra, "Get You In"

Olivia had chatted with Opie and Donna. Jax, a little. Some of the other guys, too, like Chibs and Tig. She answered all the same questions: yeah, Portland's fine. No, I'm not back. Just visiting. My dad's doing great I'll tell him you said hi.

Finally she felt like she could duck out, but she wanted to say goodbye to Juice. She couldn't find him in the crowd, even though it had dwindled since they'd both ended up on the porch earlier. Maybe she should just go. A clean exit: in and out, no muss no fuss.

She had just decided that was what she would do when she turned around and nearly ran right into him. "Oh!" she said, flustered. "Hi again."

He caught her elbows to keep her from stumbling and smiled. "Hey. I was looking for you."

"Oh," she said again. Then, with a mental eye roll at her own idiocy, "I was too. Looking for you, I mean."

"Yeah?"

His grin was so endearing and familiar that she couldn't help but return it. "Yeah, Ortiz. I wanted to say goodbye."

The expression faltered, and some of the light left his eyes. "Oh, right. Of course. You got a long drive ahead."

She waved a hand. "I'm not leaving until tomorrow. I figured I'd need a little time before a ten hour drive. You know. After."

He nodded his understanding, then cast a look over his shoulder. "I guess I gotta stay till everyone leaves. That's the protocol, right?"

"I don't know," she said. "Last funeral I went to I was thirteen."

"Ah," he said with a wince. "Sorry."

"It was a long time ago," she said. Then, all in a rush, "We could get out of here. Together, I mean. If you sneak maybe no one will notice."

"Are you serious?" he said, eyes widening.

She looked away, a scrunch forming along the bridge of her nose. "No, of course not. That wouldn't be…the most appropriate thing, would it?"

He touched her arm, a light brush of his fingers, and she glanced up at him again. "I wish you didn't have to leave so soon."

"Hhhmm," she said, a low noise that might have or might not have meant agreement.

The sounds of the crowd around them seemed to fade as they watched each other, and after a moment it felt like they were the only two in the room, enclosed in a little bubble of quiet and…whatever it was that still simmered in the air between them.

"I should—"

"Wait," he said. "Just a sec. I can't leave now, but maybe later…? We could, I don't know. Have a drink or something? Catch up a little. It's been a long time, Liv." His voice softened, and she had to lean closer to hear. "We meant a lot to each other once. Seems crazy to just say hey and then…nothing."

Except that was exactly what she'd planned for, a quick hello and goodbye with no complications in between. She wanted to say no. She really really should say no. She opened her mouth to say just that and was astounded by what actually came out: "Sure, Juicy. I'd like that."

His face eased into another blinding, eye-crinkling smile. "Good. Great. Maybe, uh…eight? I think I can be out of here by eight."

"God I hope so," she said. "There's that place on the corner of Sycamore and King. Do you know it?"

"Yeah," he said. "Don't think I've been there, but I know where you mean."

"I haven't been there, either, which hopefully means we won't run into anyone we know." Her brow furrowed. "Wait, that—"

"No," he said, laughing. "I know what you meant. And, yeah, that sounds good. So tonight, then?"

"Sure, Ortiz. Tonight."

Before she could say anything else staggeringly stupid, she bid him goodbye and turned to go. He tucked his hands in his pockets and watched her work through the crowd, his grin lighting up the room and drawing glances from all around. Somewhere Gemma sighed and shook her head and went back to wrapping leftover tuna casserole.

"Oh, and, you know that tattoo you dared me to get for my eighteenth birthday?"

His eyes narrowed. He knew she hadn't had a tattoo last time he saw her naked (quick mental image that he tried to shove aside), but maybe she'd gotten it since then. Of course he remembered the dare. They'd even debated what she could get, choosing and rejecting about twenty-five different things as she deliberated over it.

"Yeah…?" he finally said, drawing the word out into several syllables.

"Day after high school graduation," she said. "My dad almost had a fit, but I was eighteen and out of school, so what could he do?"

He laughed. "Man, that's awesome. What did you end up getting? And—" He broke off to shift in his seat a little. "Where?"

Her grin was wicked. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Ha," he said on a breath. Four years hadn't changed her much, really. Still giving him shit whenever she had the chance. I really really would, he thought, and she looked at him like she could read it on his face.

He ducked his head and decided a change of subject was in order. "So, hey, Opie and Donna got married," he said. "Can you believe that?"

"Yeah, that's the word," she said with a grin. "Good for them."

"I guess you probably saw them today."

"I did, but I already knew." She took a sip of her bourbon and fiddled with the swizzle stick. "Opie told me."

He coughed a little as he choked on beer. "Opie? You still talk to Opie?"

"Yep," she said. "Some."

"Huh." He hesitated. "Anybody else?"

"Tara, of course. She's who told me about your mom. But that's it, really."

"Not Jax?"

"Nah. I think Tara got me in the breakup, which makes sense." A brief pause. "How is Jax, these days? We chatted a little, but barely more than basic small talk."

Juice shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Busy with the MC. Fucks around with the crow eaters a lot." He looked up and their eyes met across the small table. "He misses her, I'm pretty sure. He doesn't say anything, but you can tell."

Olivia's mouth quirked. "She misses him, too."

"Yeah," he said. "I guess—I mean, there are some things you don't get over."

"Juice—"

"Don't worry about it." He touched her hand, lightly. "I never thought you…" He frowned down into his drink. "I never thought you'd be the type to settle down real fast. Like, married at twenty-one is great for Donna and Ope, but it's not like it ever woulda happened for us."

"You think?" she said, her eyes steady on his face.

"Well—you said it, right? We were just kids. Had a lot more livin' left to do."

She winced a little as he quoted her old words back at her. "Is that what you've done, Juicy?"

He seemed to think it over as he took a pull from his bottle. "No, not really." His smile was more grimace. "What about you? I know you got the tattoo. What other ways did young Olivia Jameson find to rebel against authority?"

She laughed. "Well…I guess maybe I found a few. Dropped out of school after freshman year to travel the country."

"Man. Bet your dad loved that."

"Yeah he was thrilled as hell. But, like…I just kept looking at my life, you know? Everything I said to you—that we were too young and we both needed to see what was out there—and there I was just kinda wasting away in school. So I left."

"Hhmm. And ended up in Portland."

"Eventually," she said. "I guess I'm a West coast girl at heart." She dropped his eyes and smiled. "When I heard you'd stayed in Charming I figured you'd be prospecting as soon as possible."

He didn't want to tell her why he hadn't, so he just shrugged. "My mom already wasn't happy I decided to skip college. She woulda killed me if I'd come home in a kutte, too."

"You could go now," she said. At his look she flicked her fingers. "What's keeping you in Charming, really? You could get out of here. Go to school. Build a life that didn't involve an outlaw motorcycle gang."

"I guess I could," he said. "I hear Portland's nice."

"It's okay," she said. Color washed over her cheeks and she thought maybe she'd had enough to drink. When he asked her to meet him she really should have said no. It wasn't the best idea for her to be alone in a bar with Juice Ortiz.

But she couldn't stand the idea that the odd, stilted conversation on Gemma's porch would be the only time they spoke. She wanted to hear how he was doing. Find out how life in Charming was now that she'd moved on from it.

The last thing she wanted to do was talk about her life back in Portland.

If he noticed her sudden silence he didn't comment. Instead he tapped a fingertip against his beer bottle and offered a sheepish smile. "I'm glad you came down, Liv. My mom always liked you a lot."

"I liked her, too," she said. Her face twisted. "I should've come back sooner. To see her, I mean."

"I don't know. That might've been kinda awkward. Your ex-boyfriend's mom? Isn't that almost like your ex-mother-in-law?"

"Almost," she said. "But, you know, it's been a while. And I don't want to think of us as exes."

"No?" he said. He studied her a moment. "How do you wanna think of us, Olivia?"

Something about his tone, the intensity of his gaze, made her fidget. "Um…as friends, you know. Like, me and Ope or me and Jax." She hitched a shoulder. "Friends."

"Right," he said with a quick grin. "Friends." He leaned across the table and set his hand over hers to still her. "Relax, Liv. It's just me."

"I'm relaxed," she said with a tense smile.

"Uh huh." He ran a fingertip along one of the bones in the back of her hand and she shivered. "Who you think you're talkin' to? It's been a while, but I still know how to read you."

She bit her lip, just a little, and pulled her hand back. "It's late," she said.

"Not that late. Barely ten."

"Well, true…but I've got a long drive tomorrow, and—" She ducked her head. And you're really getting to me and this is a terrible idea. "And I should get some sleep," she said aloud. "You should too. You look—you look exhausted, Juicy."

"Hum. Yeah, I haven't really been sleeping much. Not in a while."

She reached out again, hesitantly, and brushed her fingers over his hand. He flipped it palm up and captured hers before she could pull it back. They watched each other across the table: his pupils went big; her cheeks flushed. She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear and gently tugged out of his grasp.

"I should go," she said, but made no move to leave. They sat a bit longer, neither looking away, and her eyes caressed his face almost like a physical touch.

He let out a breath. "Sure, Liv," he said. "Can I walk you to your car?"

After a moment she nodded. "That'd be nice."

He came around the table to help her into her sweater, a dark purple cardigan with pearl buttons that made her skin seem to glow in the bar's low light. "Pretty sweater," he said.

She looked away so he wouldn't see her deepening blush. "Thanks," she said.

He rested his palm at the small of her back as they walked, and they didn't speak until they were at her car.

"The Cougar," Juice said, grinning. "Nice."

"Yeah. My dad gave it to me for good and all when I left for college. Later he was extra pissed, because you know. I took it with me when I dropped out."

"You rebel," he said.

"That's me. Bucking convention one wasted scholarship at a time." The wind caught the trailing ends of her hair, but when she reached for it he got there first. He tucked it back with warm, gentle fingers, and his thumb briefly stroked the soft skin at her temple.

"Liv—"

"Juicy," she said on a quiet breath. He was so close. She could feel the heat of him. His familiar scent, so unchanged since high school that it actually hurt, enveloped her. She took a step back, but the car stopped her retreat.

"I really should go," she said.

He smiled and gave her room. "Portland beckons, huh?"

"Yeah." Her mouth curved. "The Rose City."

His head tilted as he watched her. "You hate roses."

"I do, but as far as I know there's no tulip city."

She meant it as a joke, but somehow it fell flat, and next thing she knew he was in her face again, close but not…pressing. Just there, big and electric and Juice. He cupped her face in his hand and lifted her chin so that their eyes met.

"Why settle?" he said. "You want a tulip city, go find one."

"If only it were that easy."

"It can be." He rubbed the pad of his thumb across her cheekbone. "Not everything has to be complicated, Liv."

"Next you're gonna tell me I think too much," she murmured.

His eyes trailed down to rest on her mouth before they flicked back up again. "You do," he said. His voice had gone soft, almost coaxing, and she knew what he wanted. She knew what she wanted, but it wasn't a good idea. For either of them.

She laced her fingers through his and pulled his palm away from her cheek. "Juice—"

"I know," he said. "Bad idea. Broke up for a reason. Been too long. Blah, blah, blah."

Her brows drew together in indignation. "It's not blah, blah, blah!"

"You haven't changed at all, Olivia," he said on a chuckle.

"That's not true. I'm—"

"What? You're what? Older? That's true. Less stubborn?" He tapped the back of her hand as he considered it. "Nope. Less analytical, maybe?" He rejected that idea with a quick jerk of his chin. "I don't think so. How about less endlessly practical?" He smiled at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Nah."

Her frown deepened. "You make me sound so boring."

"Not boring." He dipped his head to nuzzle her nose. "You're probably the least boring person I've ever met."

His mouth hovered over hers, so close she could feel his breath, taste the beer-tinged heat of it, and if she didn't push him away now she might not be able to.

"Please," she said.

"Please what?" He planted a tiny kiss to the corner of her mouth. "Please stop? Say that and I will. You know I will."

Somehow her fingers had gotten all tangled in his white dress shirt, two handfuls of it, and when she realized it she eased her grip. He grabbed one of them before she could let go and kissed each fingertip.

"Tell me to stop. Say goodbye again. I'll let you get in your car and drive away and that'll be it."

"I can't," she said, her voice tremulous and unsure.

"Can't what?" He trailed his nose up the side of her throat. Brushed his lips over her scrambling pulse. "Can't kiss me, or can't walk away?"

"Either," she said. "Both. I don't know."

He lifted his head, and when their eyes met he was grinning. "Same ol' Liv." He had one hand pressed against the car, and the other came up to tangle in the hair at the back of her neck. "Stop thinking, baby," he said. "Stop thinking and just let me kiss you."

"It's not that simple, Juice."

"Yeah it is. For once, Olivia, it fucking well is." He was pressing tiny butterfly kisses along the line of her jaw; just under her chin; behind her ear; and her breath left in a hot rush. His hands skimmed down her sides, over her hips, then up again to rest at her waist, his fingers splayed so she could feel the pressure of his grip from her ribs to the curve of her hip.

He knew her. Knew exactly how to touch her, how to kiss her, and when his teeth found her earlobe she was lost. Her knees went weak and she gripped his arm for support.

"My room," she said. "Follow me. I'm just around the corner."

He pulled back, his eyes wide and nearly all pupil, and his mouth fell open like he'd just taken a punch to the solar plexus. "Yeah?" he breathed.

"Yeah," she said, trying to fight a smile. "Please?"

"You gotta ask?"

"Well I don't want you to feel obligated to—"

"Olivia!" He kissed her forehead. "Get in the car. I'm right behind you."

"Okay," she said. "Okay." Then, "Wait!" as he started away.

He turned back with a questioning look.

She bit her lip, suddenly shy. "Do you have—God, I can't believe—If you need to stop by the drugstore, I'll wait."

One long stride and she was pressed between his body and the car. He bit the soft skin of her throat and rubbed his tongue against the pounding pulse. "You think I'd forget to bring condoms?"

"I don't know, I—wait." She shoved at his shoulder until he leaned away. "Did you plan this?"

He let out a sigh. "No, Olivia. I just…I thought it would be better to be prepared. Just in case."

"Just in case I invited you back to my room for a quick fuck?"

His head tilted. "I was thinking slow. Long and slow and intense. At least the first time."

She lifted a brow. "And the second time?" she said.

"Depends. Maybe quick. Maybe slow. Maybe somewhere in between. I don't know, Liv. I guess we'll decide when we get to it." He ran his tongue around the curve of her ear. "Now the third time—the third time I think you should set the pace. I want you on top of me, Livvie. I wanna watch your face while you—"

"Juice!" she said, half choking. "God, we're in a parking lot!"

"Then I guess we better get back to your room, huh?"

She looked at him then, really looked, and through the signs of fatigue and the familiar sweetness of his face she saw something surprising. She might still be the same (so he claimed), but this Juice Ortiz was someone else. Not a complete stranger; she still knew how to push his buttons and how to make him laugh; but the last three plus years had given him a new confidence, a new strength, that she hadn't quite seen in him before.

"Yeah," she said, stunned and breathless. "Yeah, I guess we better."

Well I mean. It was inevitable. Right?