"Don't go setting fires when there's nothing to burn."
A sick turn of events sees Isla Telford thrown in at the deep end, battling to govern the sudden pressures of all that her father's club decidedly bestow upon her.
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Tig Trager x Fem!OC...
Warnings: brief mentions of Wendy's drug use. Nothing *bad* goes on here, just the usual SOA shit is hinted at. :)
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Ninety degrees was horrendous. Ninety-six degrees saw Isla spiraling toward a fully-fledged mental breakdown, desperate to climb out of her own fucking flesh and melt into the parking lot outside of St. Thomas.
Seeing the Sons sporting leathers, hoodies, and long-sleeved shirts underneath their cuts made her skin crawl, too.
She'd thrown on the flounciest summer dress she owned, thin and wispy, and she was still roasting to death underneath the Californian sunshine.
It felt like they were living in the fucking ass-crack of hell.
Though, with their current state and Charming's infestation of ATF and other federal agents, hell wasn't too far off the mark.
"Thanks for the ride." Isla expressed her gratitude as she slid off of the back of Tig's bike, pulling the helmet away from loose blonde curls.
"No problem, baby--you good to get home, yeah?"
"Yeah. I'm meeting Gem here, so she'll take me back to T M in time to pick my car up," she confirmed, readjusting herself.
She couldn't risk Tig Trager getting an eyeful of her asscheeks today. Not again, anyway.
"Perfect. See 'ya later, beautiful." Isla leaned in for him to peck her cheek--which was habitual for the pair--and she did the same.
Her smile was wide. She was beaming. "Bye, Tiggy. I love you."
"Love you too, kid." He reciprocated the smile, squeezing her hand as she broke away and padded toward the steps, brushing her fingers through wind-tousled strands.
Things were, for the first time in about a week, finally looking up. Resuming a sense of normality, perhaps.
She and Trager had been on precarious terms since that day, and had been avoiding one another altogether. Which, for them, was strange.
Days went by without even so much as a word being uttered between the pair, no backhanded comments, or even sideways glances.
Usually, they'd be bickering like kids, arguing nonsensically until Clay or Chibs broke them apart--but it was all just their little bit of fun. Because they bounced off of one another.
They lauded the relationship they shared because, really, it was one of the strongest.
He'd been her official favorite since the very day that they met--he and Bobby were the two she liked to talk to whenever she felt that she couldn't confide in her father.
But the last few days were so fucking hard. She was struggling with the weight of all that she did, coupled with the stress of not being able to discern Tig's current feelings on her.
