Jax fuckin' hates shaving. Has since the very first time he'd tried it at thirteen- not that he'd really had use for an actual razor back then. But still, the pull to grow up, to become a man, join the ranks of the other men in his life even if he didn't yet have the Harley he'd dreamed about since he was five… well, it was stronger than even the fear in the back of his mind that weakly warned him off touching an actual razor blade to his face.
He'd been sitting on his parents' bathroom counter with one of JT's old razors, diligently scraping the dry blade against some imaginary hairs that were little more than peach fuzz and ignoring the tiny spots of blood that rose each time he felt the sting of the metal against his cheek. What was worse than the sharp pain of nicks, though, didn't come until later that evening, when he'd arrived at the dinner table looking like he'd lost a fight with the neighborhood stray cat, complete with a piece of tissue still stuck to his chin. It had been enough to send both JT and Gemma into silent laughter and more than enough to have him swearing off shaving for the rest of his goddamn life.
To his credit, JT had later ushered him back into the bathroom and demonstrated the finer points of the process. He'd also introduced him to the importance of shaving cream and, stifling yet another chuckle, had suggested he wait a year or two before trying again. Jax had been all too happy to take his advice, and had avoided the task as much as possible in the years that followed, even when he'd finally begun sprouting enough actual facial hair to matter. After all, he'd realized, the Sons of Anarchy was pretty much dominated by men with beards, mustaches, goatees, five-o-clock shadows- to the point that both he and Ope had pretty much arrived at a silent agreement to grow as much facial hair as possible by the time they patched in. Mostly because it was just one more way to embrace the Life, but also because Ope wholeheartedly agreed with him that shaving fuckin' sucks.
But this, he promises himself with a smile, will be worth it.
Jax rinses the razor before focusing his attention on the opposite side of his jaw, angling the blade to clear a smooth, clean path across the skin there. And, he realizes, mind jumping to a completely different track, he can't help but feel as if this temporary transfer to Tacoma has had the same sort of effect on him. Shit, just being here has felt like enough to start clearing away the bullshit that's been holding him back in more ways than one, making a path to something… maybe better isn't the word. But he feels like he can fucking breathe here, without the pressure, the scrutiny, of being the damn Prince.
And as much as he misses sitting at the table with his father and most of the others, getting away from Charming, Gemma's watchful eye, Tig's constant snickers, Ope's empty chair- it's been… freeing. Yep, that's the word he'd been searching for, probably since he'd first realized he was able to take a full breath without Gemma or someone breathing down his neck.
Plus, he's been building a pretty decent rapport with Lee, feels at ease with most of the guys, and has handled the tasks they'd given him without much issue- especially now that his black eye's finally faded away. So now, Jax decides, gliding the blade against the underside of his chin, he'll just need to keep pushing, do what he can to prove himself so that when he approaches Lee- and JT- about a transfer, there's no question what the vote will be.
He's rinsing the blade a final time as the reason behind all of this- the shave, his move to Tacoma, the transfer, fuckin' everything, if he's being honest with himself- catches his eye. The photo's his favorite, a duplicate of the one he'd kept tucked in the mirror of the apartment over at the clubhouse- the one that had met Gemma's wrath when she'd cleared the place of any memory of Tara. Hell, this one had only survived because it had been one of a select few he'd kept safe in his kutte pocket- which is why it's curved slightly to conform to his body, a bit tattered from almost two years of constant handling.
In it, he's sitting on his bike, mere moments away from that critical first ride on his sixteenth birthday; what an outsider might notice first about the Jax in the photo is that he's wearing a pair of jeans and a SAMCRO hoodie, but also a smug grin- like he's got the world at his feet. What's always stood out to Jax, though, especially these past few months, is that in that moment, he did have the goddamn world at his feet. Because Tara's right there behind him, arms around his waist, cheek pressed to the back of his shoulder; in fact, she's always been there for him- until he stopped letting her. And still, she'd hung in until she'd felt she had to choose- between her own future and the one he was slowly drowning in.
So, while he's quickly learning that leaving Charming is something he'd needed to do for himself, he's still doubtful it would have happened without her. It's like she'd unknowingly given him the chance to live a life that's a little different than the one he'd been living in Charming. And even though they're not as together as he'd envisioned they'd be by now- a daydream she'd effectively crushed the moment she'd tried to slam the door in his face- he can't help but hold onto the hope that they'll get there.
Smoothing a hand over his freshly shaved chin, Jax can't help but smile- more at the memory of these past few weeks than at his own reflection.
After their first meeting in the park, he'd practically floated back to the clubhouse on air, only to be immediately ushered into Church. There, he'd found himself drumming his fingers and staring at the clock for what seemed like hours as his new brothers had droned on about the latest Fight Night and their business holdings in Gig Harbor. Fortunately, only Kozik had noticed his impatience- and, apparently realizing exactly why he was so goddamn tense, had passed him the cell phone with an eye roll and a grin.
So, mere seconds after Lee had lowered the gavel, he'd rushed off to his room to call Tara- partly to reassure himself she'd made it home okay, but mostly because he'd found himself needing to know when he'd see her again. To his mild surprise- despite the kisses they'd shared, he'd all but convinced himself she was a breath away from changing her mind about him, and them- she'd readily agreed to meet him the next week, albeit with the same conditions as before- after her shift at the clinic, and once again at the little park that was quickly becoming their spot here in Tacoma.
And though the week he'd had to wait had seemed like an eternity, just like at their first such meeting, he'd been happy just to have her there with him. In fact, they'd easily assumed the same positions they had the last time- her with her head resting on his stomach, him with his fingers idly playing in the ends of her hair. It had been nothing short of a few hours long slice of fucking heaven. The only hitch in the otherwise perfect afternoon had come when he'd suggested going on the ride she'd suggested at the end of that first afternoon and Tara had begged off with a Chemistry test the next day. But when it was time for him to go, he'd encountered no opposition to walking her back to the Cutlass as he had the first time- and had managed to wrangle a Saturday lunch at the diner on Pacific out of the deal as well.
That Saturday, unfortunately, had dawned gloomy and drizzly, and he'd been forced to borrow SAMTAC's rickety old pickup truck, which rivals Ope's truck in both age and decrepitness- he's pretty sure it really is held together with Bondo, electric tape, and sheer willpower. Tara had just raised an eyebrow when he'd arrived at the diner, then shot him a rueful grin as he shrugged and made his excuses. Then, too, they'd fallen right back into their routine, with him ordering a double cheeseburger, a shake, and a mountain of fries, and her ordering her favorite- a BLT- and stealing a good third of his fries. As always, he'd pretended not to notice, but the familiarity had felt too good to force back the smile that curled his lips every time she snatched a fry from his quickly dwindling pile.
After that, they'd fallen into a comfortable routine- avoiding moving forward (mostly because he's scared shitless of pushing her too far) but, thankfully, not sliding back, either- of meeting up every Thursday afternoon in the park. In fact, other than the two Saturday mornings they'd met at a breakfast spot Tara'd mentioned in passing one afternoon, they hadn't actually scheduled their time together at all. He'd called her those first few times under the pretense of confirming their next meetup, but they'd wound up talking so long that she was yawning and saying her goodbyes before he'd gathered enough sense to ask her out once again. And eventually, he'd taken to calling her almost every night he could get away from the club for a bit- and she'd begun ending her side of the conversation with a talk to you tomorrow, Jax. The rest, including the assumption that she'd be there to meet him each week, had gone unsaid from that point on.
It had been nearly everything he'd dreamed of, despite the weather (and an untimely mechanical issue) preventing them from going on the ride he'd promised her that first day. Over four weeks of getting to see his girl on a semi-regular basis, a few dozen phone calls where they'd talked about anything and everything under the sun- besides the uncertainties of their relationship. Most importantly, he'd come to revel in those precious hours of just being close to her and feeling the warmth of her skin against his, even through a couple layers of clothing. And, of course, at least one torturously arousing kiss each time they said goodbye- always initiated by him, but with the way she'd come to look up at him through those thick lashes, almost expectantly, he knows she's just as willing a participant as he is.
Tonight, though, is the first time they're venturing out of the carefully crafted box they'd put themselves in those weeks ago. And as Jax pulls a fresh white t-shirt on over his head, he can't help but wonder if the twisting in his gut is anticipation or his nerves finally getting the better of him.
Sighing, Tara studies herself in the full-length mirror some previous tenant had mounted on the back of her bathroom door- something she hadn't had occasion to do since she'd moved in here. Sure, there's been a few parties, a work function or two- but somehow, her appearance hadn't mattered much beyond the quick glance in the mirror above the sink to make sure she was presentable. Tonight, though…
Wrinkling her nose, she adjusts the thin strap of the dress she'd borrowed from Sarah for the occasion. It's not her taste at all, really- it's a pale pink almost the color of the inside of a seashell and a little (okay, a lot) prim with a narrow black ribbon at the waistline- but Sarah had declared it perfect. Tara's not so sure- but then, Sarah hadn't known her when she was nearly a SAMCRO Old Lady, regularly attending parties at the clubhouse where the women would have practically laughed their asses off at anyone who'd show up in what she can only describe as a bridesmaid's dress. Snorting, Tara drags her mind away from croweaters and old ladies- because when the hell had she ever truly fit in with them, either- attempting to focus on the dress' merits. Turning to the side, she adjusts the ribbon, smooths the fabric over her hips, and tries not to think of the last time she'd worn a fucking dress.
That, of course, had been her high school graduation, nearly a year and a half ago now. The memory's a pleasant one in more ways than one, and the residual swelling of pride in her accomplishments and the certainty in her future she'd felt that day are quickly joined by the series of mental photographs she'd taken- the way Jax's mouth had all but dropped open as she appeared in the doorway to the clubhouse apartment bathroom wearing the dress, the way he'd been unable to keep his hands off it (and her) nearly all day…
Goddammit, Tara scolds herself- there's no time to get caught up in reminiscing. Especially since, if she has any hope of getting a parking spot anywhere near where she needs to be, she's got less than half an hour.
Sighing again, she studies her reflection- this time with an assessing eye.
Hair is fine, she decides, fingering the dark ends resting against the strap of Sarah's dress- thankfully, it had been cooperative today and falls in slight waves a few inches beneath her collarbone. It's still a bit shorter than it had been back then, but Jax definitely hadn't complained-
Rolling her eyes at the train her thoughts have begun taking, she moves on down her body. She'd spent just enough time on her makeup today to make her already dark lashes stand out even more starkly against her skin, had even chanced a hint of eyeliner and a tinted lip gloss. The result is a light, almost smoky look that she likes more than she'd ever anticipated she would.
The dress- as much as it doesn't fit her style, Tara has to admit it fits well. It accentuates all the right places, drawing in at the waist to highlight her chest without being too revealing and skimming gracefully over her hips before flaring out slightly at the hem. And to top it off, the one other thing she hasn't worn since graduation- a pair of delicate heeled sandals with the same black straps as the dress.
Not bad, Knowles, she concludes, taking a step back. It's not you, but maybe that's not really a bad thing. After all, this whole night is turning out to be something that's not really her thing. God knows there's no way she'd have ever considered going if it wouldn't have been a requirement- and Jax, well…
Her mind drifting away from the dress and the evening she has ahead of her, Tara can't help return to thoughts of him- though she really shouldn't be all that surprised, as he's where her thoughts travel any time she's not working, sleeping, or studying. Hell, even when she is, she finds her mind wandering- to visions of bright blue eyes, messy blonde hair, the way his skin feels against hers- and it's usually a short trip from there to thoughts she really shouldn't be having… Not with the current status of whatever this is between them and sure as shit not in a lecture hall full of students.
God, and although she'd been telling herself since she first arrived in Tacoma that the memories would fade, eventually, all the time they've been spending together has made it worse, instead of better. Mostly, it's because now she has a whole new bank of memories to assault her senses, including at the most inopportune moments- when she's at work, in class, or studying for a test. Even the pleasant routine they'd fallen into of talking on the phone, nights they were both free, had somehow managed ingrain itself into her every waking moment; they'd only stop their conversation when Kozik's voice filled the background to tell Jax to hand over the phone already so he could call Angela, or when Jax needed to take care of club business or Tara desperately needed to study. But, it always ended with a low 'Night, Tara from him that never failed to stir something deep within her.
And maybe she'd slipped a hand beneath her panties once or twice after she'd hung up the phone- mostly to put Sarah's theory that she just needed to get laid to rest- and maybe she hadn't. All Tara knows is that while Jax seems to be everywhere- in her mind, on her heart, assaulting her senses, all at once- it's those times, when she's noticing how different her own hand really is from his, that she feels his absence the most.
And that, her pesky inner voice announces decidedly, is exactly why you've been meeting at the park instead of right here… and why it's probably best tonight doesn't involve him, at all. Especially since they'd fallen right back into a routine she's not sure he can keep up with his responsibility to the club- it's a subject they hadn't even broached since their initial argument following his return, but the looming shadow that is the Sons of Anarchy can't be ignored for much longer. Not to mention, there's all her own shit- midterms coming up in a few weeks, the volunteer role she'd been advised to take to pad her undergrad resume… the way Jax's been infiltrating her every thought when they're not together-
Goddammit.
Still, the other part of her argues, insistently- when you were with him, none of the fucking noise mattered. What had mattered was the way he'd looked at her, as if he couldn't tear his eyes away; the way he'd touched her, with reverence, love, and passion, all rolled into one. Christ, even the way he said her name- like no one else ever had, somehow- made her feel beautiful, ready to face down anything that came her way. Until the end, when they'd both been struggling to breathe in Charming- arguably because of the insurmountable distance they'd built between themselves- she'd felt ready and willing to take on the world as long as she could do it with Jax at her side. Now, though, without him, Tara can't shrug the feeling that she's just playing at being an adult, doing little more than dressing up and putting on her mom's heels.
And suddenly, it's all wrong- this is all wrong. In the mirror, it's like every last flaw she'd picked out in the pink dress- every single reason it's just… off- becomes glaringly obvious. It's clear, now, that it's far too soft a pink for her dark hair; God, the color almost makes her look even paler than she really is, which is pretty goddamn pale. Worse, the sweetheart neckline is meant for someone with a much more generous chest- someone like Sarah or, God forbid, even good old Melissa Rourke. And, she decides, the slender ribbon around the waist is definitely far too close to prissy- something she'd constantly been accused of being in high school, which Jax and anyone else who truly knew her had quickly dismissed with a chuckle.
It's a pretty dress, much like others she'd seen on girls on their way to sorority and fraternity parties across campus… but it's not her.
Jolting into action, Tara searches with her fingers for a moment before finding the delicate zipper at her side and pulling it down. Refusing to give her reflection another glance, she peels the straps down her shoulders, shimmying just a bit until the dress slides over her hips and down her legs, then carefully steps out of the fabric pooled at her heeled feet. The offending dress is back on the hanger a moment later, forgotten, as Tara stalks across the apartment to scour the arguably minimal contents of her closet. Hanger after hanger scrapes by as she shoves them out of the way on her desperate search for the one other dress she owns… until she finally finds it, pushed to the back, much like she'd been doing with the many memories it evokes.
It's floating over her head a moment later when her phone rings.
Grabbing the towel he'd tossed onto the bed earlier, Jax makes a cursory swipe at his face before rubbing it thoroughly over his now nearly shoulder-length hair, still wet from the shower. A few passes with the comb later, he tosses it onto the dresser, ignoring the droplets of water dampening the collar of his white tee, and returning his gaze to the mirror above. Christ, he's not accustomed to actually giving a shit what he wears, what he looks like- and he knows Tara's never been one to focus on his looks, even when that's all practically every other woman he's ever known besides his mother, Donna, and probably Kozik's old lady has cared about…when they're not trying to make time with the assumed future leader of SAMCRO. And it's not even that he truly cares now- it's just that tonight is shaping up to be different than any other time they've spent together here in Tacoma, and it all needs to be perfect.
Decision made, Jax yanks open a dresser drawer and digs through it briefly, tossing aside an assortment of clothing before pulling out the best jeans he owns- ones without any exhaust burns, rips, or oil stains. Grinning, he pulls them on as the memory of how this had all come about in the first place resurfaces.
Tara arrived late to their usual meeting place earlier that afternoon, and Jax had instantly picked up on the difference in her- she'd been distracted, almost melancholy. Worse, she'd pasted on that smile- the one he'd come to recognize as the false smile she used when she knew others expected it. And while he'd immediately asked about her day, trying to pinpoint what it was that had her looking away almost as soon as her eyes met his, she'd told him all was fine.
Jax knew different though, could sense when something was eating at her- but he still wasn't entirely sure where they stood, what he'd earned the right to say or ask when it came to her. And so, he'd simply smiled back and assumed his usual position atop the blanket. She'd rested her head on his stomach as she had the last few times they'd been together- but as he watched her, it was clear she hadn't gotten much studying done. In fact, she'd been on the same page for most of the last hour. And while he'd tried to relax and enjoy his time with her, he'd found himself growing just as tense as she was- maybe more. By the time the sun was low in the sky and they were forced to pack up so neither one of them would need to travel back home in the dark, Jax had worried the inside of his lower lip until it was hot and raw.
"I won't be able to make it next week," Tara said suddenly, in a low, hesitant voice. Her words were nearly lost to the outdoor air and the constant buzz of people around them- talking, laughing, shouting as they tossed frisbees and footballs back and forth- so low that he thought it was almost like she was hoping he wouldn't hear her. Then, she returned to shoving her books into her backpack, refusing to meet his eyes and suddenly focused on the contents of her bag.
And for a moment, it was like Jax's lungs were frozen, immovable. Christ, it was like he was unsure whether to breathe a sigh of relief that the worries that had been spinning through his mind this last hour or so- that she'd been biding her time and choosing her words carefully for the moment she'd tell him she was transferring schools or that she'd met someone- were off-base… Or whether to suck in a tense breath and steel himself for her inevitable speech about how this wasn't working out. His chest, in fact, was caught up in the same confusion his brain had been since just minutes into what had become their weekly routine- one he looked forward to more than anything else.
And so, when the reason she'd been on edge all day was finally out in the open, Jax found himself waiting, motionless and silent, for her next words- the verdict that would determine which way his whirling mind would land. Evidently, Tara realized quickly that he wasn't fixing his mouth to say anything, because she spared him a brief glance before continuing, hesitantly.
"I, um- I had to take an extra shift at the student clinic on the hospital side next Thursday. It's because I'm taking this class- The Modern Expression of Art in Society?" Jax nodded, dumbly, pretending that what she was talking about made total sense, even as the air in his lungs seemed to return molecule by molecule while he tried to connect the two. Fortunately, her words continued to come out in a rush. "Well, throughout the semester, I have to go to three different performances and write a response- you know, about how they affected me or whatever. Next week is the first required performance, so I have to go." She paused and bit her lip, then raised those green eyes to his for what seemed like the first time all day, the unspoken apology in them crossing her lips a moment later. "I'm sorry, Jax, I wanted to make it work for us to be here, but I just-"
"I'll take you," Jax volunteered, instantly, the final dregs of the emotional upheaval he'd experienced moments finally clearing. Whatever this performance consisted of, he realized, there was nothing he wanted more than to spend more time with her- and this could be his chance to finally move them to the next step… whatever that was. To his disappointment, Tara smiled gratefully, but shook her head.
"Trust me, Jax, this isn't something you want to do. God, it isn't even something I want to do- it's a professional dance performance, and I have no idea how the hell I'm going to get through two whole hours of modern dance."
"Easy- you let me take you, and we get through it together." He shrugged, shooting her a half-grin- unwilling to give up. She rolled her eyes in return.
"You realize that when I say professional dancers, I don't mean strippers… right?" Tara smirked at him, that saucy, insolent smile he'd always loved because it crinkled her eyes in the most endearing way- and because it usually came mere moments before she suggested other activities that made his heart race and his dick perk up. So maybe it was personal growth that a moment later, he was laughing with her instead of hauling her off somewhere to be alone.
"I'm insulted, Babe," Jax chuckled, grabbing his chest in mock pain. "It's like you don't believe I can appreciate the arts."
"It's not that, I just-" Tara made a frustrated gesture with her hands, and Jax reached out and took them in his own.
"I mean it, Tara. I'll do anything to spend more time with you. Even if it's watchin' yet another dude in tights dance around on a stage." Personal growth be damned, his mind was already shifting, idly, to that memorable night in CHS's library- when Tara shrugged helplessly amidst her own laughter.
"Well, I appreciate it, Jax, thank you. I'd love some company." And his grin had just enough time to bloom fully across his face, proud to do something for her…
with her. "But are you really sure you want to spend your Friday night at the Performing Arts Center?" And just like that, Jax's laughter died.
"Shit, it's Friday?" He said, almost without thinking- and Tara's laughter faded away, as well. It was replaced almost immediately by a knowing look. Fuck. The feeling that he was losing this one- that his momentary victory and their small step forward was quickly slipping out of his fingers- intensified as she shook her head and released his hands.
"See? I know you have club stuff- that's why I didn't ask you to go in the first place. And it's okay. Really. I can see you this weekend for breakfast."
But his face must have displayed exactly what he was thinking- that 'club stuff' often had the tendency to bleed into the next day- and sometimes the day after. It was a constant issue even when things were going well for them in Charming, and unfortunately, especially true with this shit Lee had announced for Friday. Hell, he'd been trying to think of a way to tell her they may need to meet Sunday instead of Saturday- if it happened at all- when she'd beat him to the punch.
As if Tara was thinking the same thing, her smile shifted, took on that same tint it had when she'd arrived -the one it had in Charming when she was trying to convince him, and herself, that she was fine on her own. Instead of confirming his suspicions, she merely patted his arm before returning to her packing, and it was a few long moments before she cleared her throat, adding "If not, I'll see you next week, okay?"
Despite Tara's protests that he'd hate it, he'd fucking loved the idea of being able to do something for her- almost as much as he'd eagerly anticipated, for a few brief moments, the prospect of getting to spend an entire evening with her.
But that false smile had been like a slap to the face, snapping him out of his own disappointment. That, coupled with Tara's constant reassurances that she's a big girl and can attend a performance by herself, had been bad enough. Worse, still, is the realization he'd had somewhere over the past week that she'd avoided asking him to go with her not because she didn't want to spend time with him, but because she'd assumed he'd have to put the club first once again.
Truth is, she'd been like that since the day he'd met her when they were kids- always thinking about other people, what they wanted and what they needed. And while she'd been trained, by both himself and Gemma, to expect precious little when it came to his time, Jax knows that if she'd had a choice in the matter, they'd have spent as much time together as humanly possible- just as he'd have preferred had he not felt the pull of his club responsibilities. And so, somewhere along the way, they'd fallen into the same habits as his parents and the many patches and old ladies that came before them- she didn't ask, and he avoided making promises he couldn't keep.
But the fucked up thing is, Jax realizes, crossing to the half-full dresser and selecting a blue and white checked shirt- one of her favorites- he finds himself wishing she'd make demands on his time- show him in some way that she wants to be with him just as much as she wants to be with her… especially in this new dynamic they're tenuously nevigating here in Tacoma. While he fucking knows he has to find a balance, make things work with both the club and Tara… he wants more than anything to know that she's willing to do the same to fit him into her life, here.
Still, he'd thought about blowing off the protection run Lee had put him on for tonight nearly constantly since that afternoon- especially since that shit always had a way of taking much longer than it was supposed to. Hell, there's no better example than the SAMCRO run he'd been on when Tara had left him- it had been a simple one-day job that had somehow turned into almost five and kept him away from her for far longer than he'd promised her. And look how that shit turned out.
Fortunately, Lee had unknowingly done him a solid last night after Church. The club had been filtering out of the Chapel and towards the bar area when he'd called Jax back. He'd told him one of the brothers had a kid who needed braces and had asked to be put on as many details as possible to boost his cashflow. Jax's mind had almost instantly jumped to Tara, and he'd struggled to keep the hopeful look off his face as he listened to his Pres explain that they only really needed six guys or so on this run. And as the lowest man on the totem pole, so to speak, Jax was the first man out.
"No worries, I'll get the next one," he'd said, in what he hopes now, looking back on it, was a casual voice. Lee had just clapped him on the shoulder and thanked him, promised him another job to make up for it or some shit- but frankly, he'd stopped listening the moment his weekend had suddenly cleared. He'd had to wait until he got back to his room to break out into what he's sure was a manic smile- and he's not altogether sure it's left his face since last night.
And so, freshly shaven, dressed in one of Tara's favorite shirts, and almost intoxicated with the anticipation of actually showing up for her when it truly counts, the only thing Jax has left to do is lace up his freshest pair of Nikes. He's just lowering himself onto the edge of the bed when he nearly sits on Kozik's cell phone, which reminds him that he also better make sure this whole gig is still happening.
He punches in Tara's number, which he's long since committed to memory, and cradles the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he waits, dragging his shoes closer to the foot of the bed. At the first ring, he's still grinning, sliding his feet into his shoes and waiting for her to answer. By the third, though, his smile has faded as the possibilities begin to rush in- Christ, what if she'd changed her mind about going. What if he'd gotten the time wrong? Shit, what if-
"Hello?" She sounds breathless, rushed- but most importantly, like the girl of his dreams.
"Hey, Babe."
"Hey," comes her reply. "I actually can't talk long, I'm just getting dressed for this stupid performance. Are you already up in Gig Harbor?" Ignoring her question, Jax grins, tamping down the urge to ask her just how dressed she is.
"I'm sure you look beautiful. You always do." As always, she waves off his compliment with a laugh.
"Shut up… I just- Ow! Damn it! Hold on." There's some shuffling in the background and a couple more muffled curses before she returns. "I swear, I don't know what I'm dreading more, the two hours of interpretive dance or walking down to the Performing Arts Center in these heels." Wry comments about her cussing die on his lips as what she's said registers.
"Heels?" Swamped by visions of her in heels- especially what those heels would look like digging into his back- Jax is rendered mute for a good few seconds. Then, in an attempt to avoid sounding like a total idiot, he swallows the shamelessly lurid retort he'd have had for her months ago and clears his throat. Then, he says all he can think to say in its stead. "They really got you goin' all-out for this one, Babe."
"Yeah, my instructor said we had to dress nicely, I guess it's sort of expected at the Center. Dresses for women, dress shirts for men. She said they had some issues a few years back with…" Tara's voice seems to fade into the distance as Jax bolts up off the bed, standing once again to assess himself in the mirror. Shit.
In light of this new information- most of which he's currently missing as his mind rushes to the realization that he's probably underdressed for the occasion- it's like every wrinkle in his white tee is standing out, his flannel suddenly looking every bit of its two or three years of age. Hell, even his Nikes, which he keeps as pristine as possible for someone who regularly rides a motorcycle, seem to have lost their crisp appearance. And while he'd already admitted to himself that he wanted to look his best for her- for what he's convinced himself is yet another step forward into what he hopes is their newfound relationship- this right here has opened up a whole new fear. What the fuck happens if he just can't make himself…fit? Christ, the last goddamn thing he wants to do is embarrass her.
Realizing, too late, that Tara's finished what she was saying and is waiting, expectantly, the line buzzing with silence, Jax clears his throat once again. Can't help but hope his voice doesn't give away the onslaught of anxiety currently swamping him.
"Well, I'd better let you get going- better get going myself, actually." And, he finds, whirling to check the digital readout of the alarm clock on his small night table, with his newly-formed mission taking shape in his head, that that's truer than he'd realized. Fuck.
"Okay, well… Thanks for calling Jax. I'll talk to you tomorrow, maybe."
"A'ight. Bye."
"Bye."
Love you, he doesn't say. And as he tosses the phone aside to quickly bend and tie his shoes, right on the heels of the newfound urgency that's riding him now, he wonders how long it will be before she's ready to hear it. Even more importantly, how long will it be before she's ready to say it in return?
Dismissing the thought as quickly as it came- there's no goddamn time to get lost in speculation now- Jax swipes his bike keys and wallet off the dresser, the cell phone from the bed, and leaves the room without looking back, closing the door behind him. Fortunately, he only has to travel a short distance down the hallway until he reaches his first destination- an identical door.
"Hey, Koz?" He calls, rapping at the door with a knuckle, shifting impatiently when there's no answer. He's about to knock again, his fist poised mere inches from the door- when it veers open, revealing Kozik's grinning face. He's in a towel, his hair still spiky and wet from the shower, and Jax can't help rolling his eyes. "Nice, bro. Hey, uh- got the cell phone for you." He slaps the phone into Koz's outstretched hand. "Okay, so uh, see you later and stay safe, a'ight?" Kozik shakes his head and leans against the doorframe, evidently set on staying a while.
"And where are you off to now that you're not on duty this weekend? Big plans with your girl?"
"You might say that-'' Jax begins to respond, evasively. And then, a seed of a thought begins to take root. Maybe Koz can help his ass out of trouble one more time. "Actually-" he sighs, shifting his feet as Kozik looks on in interest, evidently wondering what the hell could be going on, now. "You, uh- got a dress shirt I can borrow?" At this, Kozik bursts into laughter- he's laughing his ass off, actually, tossing his head back until his voice echoes down the hallway. It's an exasperating minute or so before it dies down enough for him to relax, sagging against the doorframe once again. And then he's gripping Jax's shoulder with a meaty hand and shaking him a bit, and Jax's hopes rise. Shit- maybe he really does-
"There's one a them men's stores right after you get off the 705- 21st Street, I think it is," Kozik chuckles, dashing Jax's hopes like a bucket of freezing cold water. His grin broadens as he releases Jax's shoulder and backs into his room- and it's the last thing Jax sees before Kozik closes the door in his face, his voice muffled by the thick wood. "Figure it out, grunt."
It's a cool evening, but the few blocks' walk to the Performing Arts Center is a pleasant one. Still, Tara notes the constant stream of cars trickling towards the painfully small parking lot adjacent to the Center, and takes it as a sign her decision to park at the clinic had been a wise one. She isn't the only one with the same idea, from the looks of it- the sidewalks are dotted with what look to be students and community members who've all chosen to walk several blocks in rather than fight what's sure to be a decent-sized crowd over the few spots.
Despite her heels- which had been far from her first choice, but the only shoes she has that even remotely go with her dress- Tara notes with some amusement that she seems to be gaining on the couple now about a half block in front of her. They're holding hands, talking, laughing, and, most notably, stopping every few minutes when he pulls her into a kiss or drapes his arm over her shoulder. And even though she'd long since convinced herself it was probably a good thing Jax is tied up with the club tonight- especially since they're currently occupying some unknown territory she's in no rush to define- she can't help but feel that familiar ache return to her chest at the sight of them.
Sighing, Tara reaches the intersection that marks the back corner of the building and is forced to wait alongside the couple- now happily lost in whispered conversation- as the line of cars continues to snake around the building's edge. As the couple ceases their conversation and begins kissing, complete with audible moans, muffled murmurs, and more than a little grab-ass, she finds herself staring at the traffic signal- urging it to change with sheer force of will. When it does, a moment later, she hurries across the street, leaving them behind. From there, it's a short half-block to the front corner and as she turns, she risks a glance over her shoulder- and it's with an odd bit of affection that she notes that the couple is still there, kissing, heedless of the fact that the traffic has stopped and started again without them.
God, that used to be us, Tara can't help thinking as she turns back to the sidewalk in front of her, which wraps around to the building's face. But, she takes only a few steps up the side walkway leading up to the columned entrance of the Performing Arts Center when she stops short.
There, leaning up against the wall and bathed in the amber glow of the sconces that adorn the exterior of the building, is Jax.
What the hell?
Apparently, all the time they've spent together recently has done absolutely fucking nothing to temper the way her body reacts at the sight of him, because Tara can no more stop her heart from pounding than she can her sharp intake of breath or the smile that immediately curls her lips. Of course, none of that is helped by the fact that she hadn't been expecting him… Or, she notes, with shock that registers a moment too late- once she finally drags her eyes away from his face, still focused on the courtyard in front of the building, and on down his body- by the way he's dressed. Actually, she's not sure whether she's more surprised that he's here at all or that he'd actually taken all her bitching about the Center's dress code to heart.
Either way, she's not sure she's ever seen him like this- dressed in a crisp, white button down shirt and tie, though, being Jax, he's wearing it untucked and paired with his signature loose-fitting jeans and white Nikes.
Momentarily frozen, she scours her brain for any occasion they'd had to dress up. They hadn't gone to their senior prom, she realizes- he hadn't been a student, and she'd had more pressing things to spend her money on instead of a formal dress she'd wear once. Instead, they'd met up with Donna and Opie, ridden the 90 minutes or so to Six Flags and closed out the evening skinny dipping at the Benicia pier instead of dancing in the Charming High gym. And though she'd worn this very dress to her graduation, Jax hadn't bothered with anything but a SAMCRO shirt underneath his graduation gown.
But now… Now, he looks like a fucking model, tanned and golden against the bright white of his shirt, right up to how he pushes off the wall with his foot, searching the crowd streaming into the Center more diligently. She takes pleasure in just watching him for a moment, heart melting just a little that he's here and that he's looking just for her. She has precious little time to admire the beloved profile of his face, the sharp outline of his jaw, the almost surprising smoothness of his cheek, before he cranes his head in her direction and his eyes land on her. But, her brief disappointment disappears as Jax's face fairly lights up in her favorite smile- the real, bright, and gorgeous one he's always seemed to reserve just for her.
It's almost too easy, as she crosses the pavement to meet him, to imagine that they're a regular couple just like the one she'd walked with on her way here. Far too simple to slip into the dream that there's no worry, no fraught history between them- nothing but a guy and his girl, ready to begin a night on the town. And so, as he reaches her and bites his lip in that way he's always done when he's about to say something cheeky- she can't help smiling up at him, too… And beating him to the punch.
"My big, bad, biker's wearing dress shirts, now?" And like her arm's being moved by some invisible puppeteer, Tara finds herself reaching out and giving his tie a gentle yank. Undeterred, Jax leans in- and though he's too close now for her to see his lips, she knows he's grinning even wider when his eyes crinkle just that smallest bit. Then, he's brushing his lips against her cheek, his warm breath unfurling against her ear, before murmuring-
"Your biker?"
Tara can only laugh in return, her cheek touching his as her smile widens. Again, her arm moves without her permission despite his close proximity- and before she knows it, she's searching for his hand with her own. Damn habits are hard to break. She's just brushing his fingers with hers when he draws back that slightest bit- and there, in the dim light, she spots a glint of silver. And she can't help but move closer to him again, her breath traveling across his cheek, sending him shivering.
And maybe he hooks his arm around her waist to pull her into him because that's what he always does when they're this close, breathing each other's air- or maybe he's just trying to cover his ragged breathing and the way he'd shivered just moments before. Either way, she takes a few long moments to bury herself in the curve of his neck, inhaling his scent- so familiar, and yet so new to her at the same time- before curling a hand around the warm skin just above his collar. He's shifting forward, turning his head ever so slightly, his smooth cheek dragging against her own until his soft, hot, mouth grazes her temple- and she hears his short gasp in her ear as she skims her hand down the back of his neck… and tugs the thin, plastic thread free with a small pop.
She kisses his cheek- partly out of habit, but mostly because she just can't believe he's here- before leaning back to dangle her prize from her fingers. It's a price tag from some men's store she's never heard of, and proof positive Jax had somehow not only listened to what she'd said earlier on the phone, but had taken it to heart. She takes a moment to enjoy the mental image of Jax Teller in a menswear store, hurriedly buying a dress shirt just so he could attend this performance with her, before turning her attention to his face. Apparently, the realization's just dawned, and as his cheeks begin to color, Tara finds she can't help but reach back up and straighten his tie.
She skims a hand down his tie before resting her palm on his chest. "You look great, Jax," she says, smiling. And that seems to do the trick because suddenly, he's biting his lip and looking down at her, the faint lines of his smirk resurfacing.
"I'd say the same about you, but that would be a fuckin' understatement, Babe," Jax says, the familiar tint of cockiness returning to his voice as he steps back and lets his eyes drift over her once again. Unbidden, her thoughts from earlier return, as well- she's never more confident, never feels more beautiful, than when Jax is looking at her like this. And in a heartbeat, Tara knows exactly why that first dress had seemed wrong all along- and Jax confirms it a moment later. "You look even more beautiful than the first time I saw you in this dress, and I didn't know that was possible."
"We'd better go in," is all she can manage to say to that- but the smile she just can't hide says everything she couldn't anyway. And whose fingers find whose first as they turn, together, to walk into the Performing Arts Center hand-in-hand… Well, somehow, it really doesn't matter.
The performance is, somehow, everything Tara had anticipated and entirely unexpected all at once. It's a contradiction in terms- the dancing is unlike anything she'd ever seen before, but the whirling cacophony of color and movement in the first few pieces is difficult to follow…and, unfortunately for her grade, even more difficult to interpret. But it's the sound- the live swells of orchestral music that seem to fill the space around her until they wash in waves right through to her soul- that seems to be sending the true message…whatever that truly is.
Jax, of course, is the other reason the performance is far different than she'd expected. She'd planned on going alone, taking notes on the various dancers, maybe even slipping out the side entrance at intermission- anything to get this assignment out of the way as quickly and efficiently as possible. But his presence at her side, his sleeve brushing against her upper arm every time he reaches up to tug at his tie, his hand reaching over to squeeze hers when the second routine- a sweeping array of white-clad dancers and flowing string music- reached its peak…somehow, though he hasn't said a word since they found their seats right before the auditorium darkened, he's made the experience better. Tara chuckles to herself at the thought- Jax and the Arts… Who knew?
They watch in companionable silence through the next few pieces, each one seemingly more modern than the next, and Tara can't help but feel a little at a loss, here. What the hell is she supposed to be getting from all this? More importantly, what the hell is she supposed to say in some two-page response- especially about the two students painted purple who had just exited the stage?
And so, she can't help but sigh as the next piece begins and the curtains draw back to reveal a bed- maybe its some critique on premarital sex, she snarks internally, rolling her eyes. But as the music rises and the dancers begin moving, for the first time tonight, it's immediately clear what she's watching- even if she hadn't spotted the "Romeo and Juliet" in the program. The two dancers gracefully floating around one another in a dramatic push and pull is at once so familiar, so beautiful, that a sweet ache develops within her chest. Christ, she feels like she knows exactly which moves will come next even though she's never seen any ballet before, let alone this one. And as Romeo slowly lifts his Juliet above him, then clutches her to him as she slips achingly slowly down his body, she can't help but chance a glance at the silent form next to her.
He's watching her, a slight smile playing at his lips- and, being Jax, he doesn't look away in embarrassment at having been caught. Instead, he simply captures her hand, positioned on the arm rest between them, and presses it slowly to his lips before directing his attention back towards the stage. And even though he's no longer looking at her, as he folds her hand within his own, it's like the magic that had been playing out on the stage is somehow transferred right here to this very seat.
All thoughts of the two star crossed lovers flee, as Tara marvels at the contrasts between them, playing out right before her. His hand, with its long, tanned fingers and large, calloused palms, yet somehow still elegant- folded around her own, pale, thin, yet agile. Somehow, she can't help seeing them, their whole world right here in their hands…Their lives, their goals, perhaps even more different than their hands- yet still intertwined because to exist otherwise just feels so wrong.
And somehow, though maybe all of this- the familiarity of being with him, the simple pleasure of holding his hand, the way her heart pounds whenever she really, truly, looks at him- should be scaring the shit out of her… For the first time since they've become whatever this is, Tara just breathes. Instead of worrying, she just lets the music flow over her, enjoys the familiar tingling in her palm sending a pleasant current radiating up her arm. Gives in, just a little, to the rightness of it all. And as the dancers play out the final throes of their love scene, she knows in her heart Jax has long since done the same.
The performance seems to fly by, even though it isn't something Jax would normally give two shits about. He's got about zip interest in watching some chick dressed as a swan flit across the stage, and he'd sure as hell rather have taken Tara on that long-overdue nighttime ride… or pretty much anywhere fucking else, really. But brief fantasies of roaming the rural Washington backroads fade as Tara becomes more and more engrossed in the flurry of music and movement on the stage- and he becomes engrossed in his girl.
Even though he'd never taken the time to take her to something like this- something he regrets more and more with every second that goes by, especially as he realizes just how fucking much he'd missed seeing her like this- she's every bit the girl he remembers. Those gorgeous green eyes are wide with wonder, that pretty pink mouth of hers drops open just a bit as the music grows to a crescendo, and she closes her eyes at its peak, her lips curving into a soft smile that's familiar enough to have him reminiscing about the last time he'd been the one to put it there. Has to put out of his mind what, exactly, they'd been doing at that moment- mostly because he's been deprived of her for so long that he's not altogether sure how well his self-control would hold out if he started them down that road.
And as if she can sense the direction his thoughts are taking, somehow conscious of the weight of everything he feels for her that he can't say or show her- Tara finally drags her eyes from the stage to meet his own. And it's the full-on, gorgeous smile she bestows on him in return that has him grinning back, almost lazily lifting her hand to his mouth and kissing her hand instead of her lips- at least for now. Lazily, because although he feels anything but relaxed here in this auditorium filled with people he doesn't know watching shit he can't even begin to explain, he feels more at home, more self-assured with every shared glance, every lingering touch, every shared kiss. The thing is, he just fucking loves her- always has, always will- and he's more than willing to spend time with her however she'll let him until she can say the same.
Tara leans over the armrest midway through the next performance, and Lord help him, but his heart skips a beat. His breathing picks up speed, too, unleashing a flood of memories and triggering the reaction in his body she's always inspired. Jax can't help but wonder whether she's aware of the longing coursing through his body as her eyes shine at him in the darkened auditorium for a moment- until her warm breath is tickling his ear. Swallowing, he tries to ignore the blood rushing south, wills himself to focus on what she's saying rather than her sheer proximity to him.
"What?" he whispers back, dumbly, doing his best to imply he simply hadn't heard her over the music currently filling the room. Swallows his disappointment, too, as she extracts her hand from his- though she gives it a brief squeeze that has his heart thumping again. "I mean, what'd you say?" There, that was better.
"I need to go to the ladies room," Tara repeats- and she shoots him a small smile that has his head clearing just enough. "I'll be right back."
Jax can only nod, relieved when Tara doesn't seem to have noticed the latest round of shivers down his spine when she'd whispered in his ear- or the way he furtively adjusts himself as she stands and gathers the pocketbook he hadn't even been aware she was carrying. His tenuous grip on his self-control nearly slips once again as she edges past him and his fingers itch to run across the luscious curves on full display. And then, with a final brief smile in his direction, she's gone.
Jax is unsure how long he sits there, alone- is even less sure of what's going on on-stage. He's also not sure where the urge to move comes from, doesn't spend time trying to figure out just why he's suddenly practically bursting at the seams with a strange energy. Just knows that regardless of the reason, he's on his feet mere seconds later, thankful he'd had an aisle seat. In fact, he doesn't fully realize where he's headed until he's halfway up the thickly carpeted aisle, vision zeroing in on the double doors leading to the lobby beyond.
The lobby itself is dim, nearly deserted aside from the bored-looking student employee currently leaning up against the door of the ticket booth, reading a book. As his eyes grow accustomed to the light, Jax spots a wooden sign hanging above him: ladies to the left, gentlemen to the right. Without hesitation, he makes his turn towards the hallway beyond the lobby.
His path gets darker and darker as he goes, with only a few sconces to cast a weak, amber light on the inner wall of the hallway. The outer portion, the wall that backs up to the exterior of the building, is lightless, allowing the golden ovals of light to fade away completely before they reach the opposite side. As he arrives at the heavy, oak door, it's this side he leans against, though there's a long, velvet bench just beside the door, likely for this very purpose. But something has him restless, unable to consign himself to even another minute of sitting quietly.
Now that he's here, though, away from the masses of others, a tiny seed of familiarity is beginning to take root. That feeling- that full-to-bursting sensation that has him itching to move, struggling to settle something inside himself, what he'd once heard his father describe as something that could only be put right at over 92 miles an hour… it's waning a bit. So even though he can't put words to what he's feeling like his father could, it's enough now to recognize that while he hadn't been overly comfortable in that crowd of students and university benefactors – it was more so that he just hadn't felt right, without her there by his side. And as the distant music starts up once again, the polished wooden door across the hall opens up to reveal exactly what he needs to finish quieting this pent-up energy.
His girl (he doesn't know when he'll ever stop thinking of her as his) hadn't expected to see him there, Jax can tell; but just as quickly as her brows lift in surprise, she has a smile for him, just the same as she had when they'd met outside earlier tonight. And although his purpose hadn't been clear mere seconds ago, despite the fact that he'd slowly been realizing that her absence had been the source of the disquiet in him, he suddenly knows exactly why he's here. That gorgeous smile and the soft strains of music- the first song he's recognized all night and definitely the first one with words- have him moving toward her with a purpose.
"Dance with me?" Jax says, simply, extending his hand until it's in her space, almost touching hers. And he finds it's all he needs to say as Tara's lips curve in a shy smile.
"Here?" But she's placing her hand in his all the same, and though it's probably only been a matter of minutes, it seems like forever since he'd last twined his fingers with hers. Too, he can't resist tugging her a bit further into the darkness of the hallway so they're hidden in the increasingly widening gaps between the pools of light. He doesn't need anyone interrupting them. At her questioning glance, he smiles, tilting his head toward the lobby and the auditorium beyond.
"They're playin' our song, Babe." And as he draws her to him, sliding one arm around her waist, the other holding their joined hands close to his heart, he finds he doesn't give a shit whether it's instinct or familiarity that has her resting her head on his chest, just below his shoulder. He doesn't much care what has her laying her cheek the same place she'd always snuggled into in their bed. All that matters is that they're here, together.
The bright blessed day
The dark sacred night
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world
And as they sway together, Tara releases a contented sigh, snuggling just that bit closer and curling her free hand into the button down shirt he'd bought for the occasion. Jax finds himself willing, finally, to release her other hand, safe in the knowledge that she's here with him at least for the next few minutes. His own slides across her bare shoulder, across the strap of her graduation dress until it rests, briefly on the expanse of smooth skin on her upper back, savoring the warmth and the feel of her once again. Though he's not still for long- Christ, it's almost as if she's a magnet, calibrated to draw in only him. Some unseen force is tugging at his hand until it drifts a bit lower and rests on the skin where the words- their words- are inscribed.
Forever, Jax hears something- whether it's Tara or his own subconscious, he isn't really sure- whisper in the dark.
I see friends shaking hands
Saying, "How do you do?"
They're really saying
I love you
Here, swaying in the dark, it's easy to pretend they're the only two people in the world- and sometimes Jax thinks he'd be perfectly alright if they were. More than willing to always stay like this, hidden away from all the things that seemed to conspire to keep them apart, including his own stupidity. The thought has him dropping a kiss to the crown of her head, and he lets his lips linger in the warm, softly scented, loose waves just long enough to forget, once again, about everything that had come between them.
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world
Yes, I think to myself
What a wonderful world
The music- and the applause that follows from the forgotten auditorium beyond- has long since faded before Tara moves away from him, though it's only slightly. Just enough so she can peer up at him, green eyes trusting, almost luminous despite the darkness. And his heart nearly stops for the second time tonight when she murmurs,
"You want to get out of here?"
And he hadn't thought it possible, but the softness in her voice has him moving even more quickly than he had several minutes ago.
They leave the Center hand-in-hand, in almost exactly the same way they'd entered it. Once again, Tara isn't sure who'd reached for the other first… and just like before, she finds that it really doesn't matter. It's just that now that they're here, holding hands and grinning at nothing in the cool early October air, she's not entirely sure what comes next- especially after they'd just spent minutes wrapped up in one another like nothing had ever come between them.
So instead, with Jax's hand anchoring her in the present, she shifts her eyes upward and toward the night sky. Instead of the slowly rising full moon that had graced the horizon earlier, the sky itself seems to have lowered- until the heavy clouds that had been somewhere in the distance earlier in the dim light of dusk almost seem close enough to touch.
"Here," Jax is saying, his voice burrowing its way into her consciousness and drawing her attention away from the ominous-looking sky. Sliding his hand from hers, he takes half a step back, and she can only watch in confusion as he loosens his tie and yanks his white overshirt free at his waistline. He's half unbuttoned it, revealing a familiar white tee, before she catches on to what he's doing. Still, she sends him a quizzical look just the same. "You were shivering," he explains, freeing the buttons at his wrists and shrugging out of the shirt.
"I'm fine, Jax," she protests, but he's already draping it over her shoulders by the time his name crosses her lips. Unsurprisingly, he chooses to ignore her weak protest, waits expectantly until she's clutching his collar together like a cape. God, she hadn't realized just how cold she actually was until his shirt settled on her skin- and it's heavenly, the next best thing to being wrapped up in Jax himself. The warmth from his body and the clean, masculine scent of him surrounding her takes the worst of the bite of chill away from her exposed shoulders, has a slow smile touching her lips, which he quickly matches with his own.
He casually picks up her hand once again and laces his fingers with hers. "So what now, Babe?" What now, indeed? Truly, she hadn't had anything in mind when she'd suggested leaving early- she'd just known she wanted him to herself a little bit longer, hadn't been able to resist the urge to slip away someplace they could avoid being interrupted. Now, though, she's not sure exactly what that looks like.
Jax looks down at her, the teasing light in his eyes sparking yet another welcome feeling of warmth as he nudges her shoulder. "I'd take you for that ride I promised you, but somethin' tells me you might be a little cold on the back of my bike."
"That, and, I'd be giving everyone a show they hadn't asked for the minute the wind catches this skirt." She laughs as Jax grins and clutches his chest in mock horror.
"Can't be havin' that then- not even if you're ridin' with me." He sobers a bit and gives her hand a squeeze. "We could take the Cutlass, find somethin' to eat?" And it's the way he looks at her- the way his blue eyes are almost hopeful- a welcome contrast to his normally self-assured grin, that has her readily agreeing almost before she realizes it.
"I'd like that."
"But we better get goin' now-" Jax adds, lifting his eyes briefly to the sky and jerking his chin upwards at the gathering clouds she'd noted earlier. "While the weather's holdin' out."
"Okay," is all Tara can think to say- and apparently, it's enough. She's met with the full intensity of Jax Teller's genuine smile as they set off, hand-in-hand, across the mezzanine.
"So how're classes goin'?" Jax asks minutes later, letting Tara lead him in the general direction of the Cutlass. And she finds herself answering with ease, comfortable with him, them, even more so than she had been in their brief times together over the previous weeks. Somehow, tonight's been another incremental step forward for them, though it's not immediately clear what the change had been. All she knows is that they'd needed the time- she'd needed the time- to begin figuring out whatever this is without the pressure she'd felt to solve things between them right away. And the uncertainty she'd felt, well-
A crack of thunder interrupts Tara's train of thought, and Jax clutches her hand a bit tighter as they both stop in their tracks. And so, she's hiding a smile as he takes a moment to survey the sky once again- a smile that reaches full bloom as he pulls her even closer. Then, as if the thunder had served as some sort of meteorological cue, a few sparse raindrops begin to dot the landscape in front of them.
Jax spares one more glance above, before he tugs at her hand. "C'mon," he says, taking but a few steps before another rumble of thunder sets him grinning and urging her along even more quickly. And for the length of a block or so, Tara dutifully trots along after him, though the quicker pace is hell on her feet.
By the end of the next block, and for the first time tonight, Tara's regretting her decision to wear heels. But the rain's coming a bit faster now, and she forces herself to take step after step, matching Jax's long strides and dodging the persistent drops that spatter the concrete at her feet. Still, she can feel the familiar heat of her heel as it begins to blister, winces at the band of leather now cutting into the soft skin above her toes, curses whoever had invented these fucking things and whatever had prompted her to decide to put them on in the first place. Finally, as it begins to rain in earnest, she suddenly yanks her hand free from Jax's and stops in the middle of the sidewalk, sighing in relief as the pressure eases just a bit.
"You okay, Babe?" Jax's brow is furrowed with confusion and worry- and even in the midst of the pain and the oncoming storm, she can't help but feel a brief rush of warmth at his concern. He's already closing the few steps distance between them that had built up before he'd realized she was no longer beside him as she bends to tug at the thin straps.
"M'fine," Tara mumbles distractedly, unsuccessfully trying to work the narrow band through what now seems to be a miniscule metal loop. Fucking shoes… After a few fruitless attempts to loosen the buckle- and even more hissed curses, she's tempted to kick them off completely- and maybe set fire to the damn things afterward. Fuck it.
Crouching down to yank the straps from the back of her heels, the first foot's free by the time she hears it. The second one follows and is just touching the damp concrete below when she realizes that that sound is- Jax is chuckling under his breath, then laughing outright as Tara snatches the shoes up by the back loop and straightens to pin him with a challenging glare. "What?" He just laughs even harder in response, gesturing towards what she can only assume is her current state of dress. And she's ready to push the jackass into the nearest patch of mud when he manages-
"I was just thinkin' that of all the scenarios I've been picturin' in my head for when I'd finally see you gettin' undressed again… I'd never imagined this one-"
Tara's smacking him one in the chest before he can even finish getting the words out, even as she clutches his shirt tighter around herself. The fact that they're standing stock-still in the middle of a rainshower is lost on both of them as Jax shoots her an insolent grin and she rolls her eyes and smirks at him in return. The rain, the shoes, her ruined hair, his dripping wet shirt- all of it ceases to matter as they lock eyes in the darkness.
And then, the loudest crack of thunder yet jolts them both into motion- him the final few steps closer to her, as if he plans, somehow, to shield her with his very body; her to reach out, her fingers scrabbling for purchase on his quickly dampening t-shirt. And so, by the time the sky opens up a nanosecond later, they're close enough to fall together much as they had at the Center earlier- only this time, they're laughing helplessly as they clutch one another in the pouring rain.
"C'mon," Tara says this time, grabbing his hand much like he'd done before. Tugging him forward with her until they're running- sprinting- her world narrowing until her feet slapping against the pavement, the rush of rain in her ears, and his laughter beside her are the only things that matter. And in the yellow light of the streetlight ahead, she just make out the city playground she'd passed on her way in, earlier, and then he's pulling her along, cutting across the wet grass and making a beeline for the deserted equipment at the park's center. And she's helpless to follow, trailing after him until he ducks beneath a slide, a welcome respite from the deluge.
She can't help but glance up at him, the teasing question dying on her lips as she looks at Jax- truly looks at him- once again. He's grinning down at her, rivulets of water running down his face, dripping from his pale lashes and the longest tendrils of his hair near his shoulders- and she's struck for the millionth time just how beautiful he really is when his smile reaches his eyes. It makes him almost a whole different person when he looks at her like that.
And there's something else in his eyes- something she doesn't quite recognize, but can't bring herself to begin to analyze- when he finally, finally, moves closer, releasing her hand to cup her chin. The smile doesn't budge from his lips as her eyes flutter closed, and then he's tilting her head back, wasting no more time, to her immense relief. He just dips his head to press his lips to hers, warming them instantly with his hot tongue, washing her lips with his taste before delving deeper. And she can't resist kissing him back any more than she'd been able to resist him the very first time he'd tried it in her back yard when they were just fifteen, meeting his tongue with her own much as she'd done then. Can't help losing herself in sensation even as the rain swirls in gusts around them, sucking his plump bottom lip between her own as he groans into her mouth- somehow drowning out even in the rain beating against the metal slide above them.
She's kissing him heedlessly, sliding her hand beneath the hem of his soaked white shirt to run along the hot, wet skin there, when he groans again and tears his mouth from hers. Then, he's pressing his forehead to hers, their heavy breaths mingling in the almost nonexistent space between them, until she can no longer withstand the forces pulling her back to him. She's leaning up onto her tiptoes and seeking his talented mouth once again- all while longing for a solid surface she can lean against until he presses his hips into into hers and finally gives her the delicious pressure she needs-
And then, just like that, he's gone. Tara's left clutching at air- and her stupid fucking heels- as Jax moves away from her, her frustrated whimper all but lost to the sound of the pounding rain between them. He's striding with purpose- where, she's not sure until he reaches the bank of swings on the other side of the playground. He meets her vexed gaze head-on, sending her an infuriating smirk as he chooses a swing and backs up as far as the chains will allow, until they're pulled taut at his sides. Then, as if he knows just how frustrated he'd left her, casually jerks his head towards the one beside him.
Jax is pushing off, grinning and whooping, by the time she's practically launching herself into the swing next to him, shoes all but forgotten. She leans back, the rain pelting her face ceasing to matter as she pushes off, savoring the familiar lift in her belly and chest, but also the knowledge that Jax is right there beside her. As she pumps her legs, urging the swing higher and higher, the realization strikes her consciousness like the deluge of rain hadn't. She can't remember another time she's felt like this- can't remember this confidence that everything that truly matters is right here, right now- not even years ago in Charming.
And as she looks over at Jax, she sees it in his face, too. In the distant glow of the streetlight, he's happy- truly happy- laughing and carefree for the first time in recent memory. So happy that Tara can no longer tell whether the swooping sensation in her stomach is from the motion of the swing or from the sudden certainty she feels that they can really have all of this. They can be happy here, together.
And instead of analyzing it, for once, she revels in it; commits the look on Jax's face and the feeling in her heart to memory, stashes it away for safekeeping to treasure through the uncertainties of the days ahead.
They swing, laughing and whooping, ignoring the storm overhead, until- almost without warning- the rain starts coming down even harder, though Tara isn't sure how that's even possible. And then, just as suddenly as he'd rushed over here in the first place, Jax is sailing off his swing with a shout, stumbling and laughing as his feet reach the ground. He's grinning and standing before her a moment later, reaching up as if to catch her when she flies off her own swing- though he waits until she's slowed considerably before gently grabbing her around the waist and spinning to set her on the grass behind him.
She's no more than touched her feet to the soaking wet ground when the chill seems to spread- this time from her toes all the way up to her hairline. She's shivering once again, despite the sodden shirt that's still somehow draped over her shoulders. And all at once, Jax is grasping both her hands and pulling her close.
"Gotta get you out of the rain, Babe," Jax mumbles into her hairline near her ear- and this time, the shiver that ripples across her skin has nothing whatsoever to do with the cold. In a perfect world, she'd stay right here with him forever, let him continue warming her with his body and the way he makes her feel. But common sense prevails, and reluctantly, he loosens his embrace just enough to draw back, dragging his lips across her cheekbone in the process.
And maybe it's the simmering warmth currently traveling through her body and contrasting with the cold October air, the half-dozen little things he's done tonight just for her, or the kisses they'd shared in the rain. Or maybe it's just acting like they were kids again on the playground that has her feeling this newfound sense of freedom from what's been holding her back. But Jax is gazing at her intently, eyes dark and intense under the dim streetlight, and suddenly, the words are bubbling up until they're all but pressing against her lips- though what, exactly, they are is a jumbled mystery even to Tara.
So, instead, she reaches up on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his, feels him respond as his lips come seeking hers almost immediately after she withdraws, allowing her to sense the brightness of his smile against her mouth for only a brief moment before he releases her waist. She pauses, matching his smile with her own, waiting for the familiar feeling of his hands burying themselves in her hair and urging her head back so he can take her mouth- but with one more brief, smacking kiss, Jax grabs her hand and tugs her along after him.
They stop only briefly to snag the dreaded heels from beneath the slide before they're running hand-in-hand once again, skimming along the soft grass at the edge of the park and toward the bright lights in the open lot of the clinic two blocks ahead. They're almost there- to the safety of the pavement and away from the soaked ground, which is getting wetter and softer by the moment- when it happens. Some unseen force seems to be jerking her downward, away from him, and a nanosecond after Tara loses her grip on his hand, she's tumbling, tumbling tumbling. When it stops, she's sprawled on the cold, wet ground, enveloped by a pain so intense it takes her breath away… and she can't help the sharp yelp that crosses her lips any more than she can the name that follows it.
"Jax!"