It was summer time in Georgia. The sun was beaming down, no clouds or shade anywhere. A pale blue 1974 Dodge Challenger sped down the highway, Bon Jovi's "Livin' On A Prayer" blasting out the rolled down windows. A pair of crossed, bear feet were hanging from the passenger's window. Attached were a pair of long, woman's glossy, lightly tanned legs. She was wearing ripped, bleached denim shorts that cut off at the thigh. A black classic Guns N' Roses tee, in a baggy fit, covered her slim torso. The sleeves had been roughly cut off and the neck had been cut into a V-shape. Long, blond, tight curly hair draped over the shoulders of the young girl. Shiny, black tinted aviators shielded her eyes as she screamed along to the words of the song, with her female friend, who was driving. The driver turned a dial on the radio counter clockwise, turning down the volume.

"Okay Pheebs," she said as she took the lit Marlboro cigarette from her mouth and blew smoke out of the window. "Jon Bon Jovi, or Richie Sambora, total freebie, who would you do?"

Phoebe let out a shocked gasp that turned into a smug laugh. "Girl, as soon as we get into town, you need to find Joe and you need to get laid."

"Shh, c'mon, answer the question. I'm leaning towards Richie personally," the brown haired driver replied, with a cheeky grin across her face.

"Why's that?"

She took another drag of her cigarette and complied,"Guitar players gotta be good with their fingers." She winked towards a shocked Phoebe.

"Damn, you bad girl." She laughed as smoke was blown from her mouth.

"C'mon, your turn."

Phoebe took a moment as she sipped from her diet coke can, which had drips of condensation running down the sides. "I don't know, I'm feeling Steven Tyler, if I'm honest."

"That's the wrong band, Pheebs."

"Well no shit Sherlock! But those lips, bet he's got a tongue to match," she said in a sly tone with an equally sly smile. The driver chuckled and matched Phoebe's sly smile as she turned the radio back up.

They continued down the dry, concrete highway. They had already completed 2 hours and 10 minutes of their 2 hours 35 minute journey from Atlanta Georgia, to Oakpark Georgia. They had 25 minutes until they were back in their home town for the summer. Oakpark was small and secluded. There was just over a 100 families residing in the town, so everybody knew everybody. The road signs for Oakpark became more and more frequent as they carried on down the highway.

Phoebe took out her phone and began forming a text message: "25 minutes until I get to see you, X." She scrolled down the list of names she had installed in her phone. She selected the name; 'Daryl', hit send and rested her phone down on her lap, awaiting a reply. A couple of minutes had passed, at least 10, and she was still checking her phone, hopeful to receive a reply. Every time she checked, and there was no reply, she would let out a disappointed sigh and rest her head back on the seat. But then, her phone let out a double beep as the screen lit up. It was a text message, a reply from Daryl that simply read: "X". As Phoebe read it, a half smile came across her face, as this simple message was enough to satisfy her. She sat back feeling moderately excited and warm in her chest as she awaited the thoughts of seeing Daryl.

They had entered Oakpark and drove through the town, until they pulled up to this bright looking house, with the classic white picket fence and rich green grass covering the front lawn. This was Phoebe's childhood home, where her parents still lived and where she would stay during holidays. Phoebe put on her brown, tanned cowboy boots and the two girls got out of the car, and Kirsty began helping Phoebe unload her things out of the trunk. Two duffel bags full of dirty laundry, a typical gift Phoebe would bring back to her mother, like any college student. They took a duffel bag each and a couple of smaller bags, and headed inside where they were greeted by Phoebe's doting parents. Phoebe had always been spoilt by her parents, probably since she was the only child, but although she was spoilt she was still grateful. After all, they had provided her with a comfortable life and were paying for all her college funds. They had always tried to shield her from all things that are bad in the world. Or things that they thought were bad, which sometime differed with Phoebe's perception of bad things.

"Phoebe!" a tall, slender woman, in a pink dress and white apron called out as she entered the front hall from the kitchen. Phoebe and Kirsty dropped the bags to the floor as Phoebe removed her sunglasses and stepped forward to receive the wide armed hug from her mother.

"Mum!"
"I've missed you sweetie," her mum replied softly as she inhaled the scent of her only daughter, the most precious thing in her life, who had been away too long.
"I've missed you too mum," she replied reluctantly, as it was clear she was in a hurry. In a hurry to go somewhere obvious to everyone.
"Hi Mrs. Stevens!" Kirsty chimed in, as she stood smiling.
Mrs. Stevens released her daughter. "Ah, hello Kirsty! It's so pleasant to see you."
Kirsty smiled. "You too."
Phoebe began taking some bags upstairs to her room. "Is dad at work?"
"Yes, and don't worry about those honey, your dad will take them up when he gets in."
Phoebe carried on up the stairs, down the hall, and stopped as she approached a closed white door. This was her bedroom. She opened the door and dumped her bags on her bed. She paused for a moment to rest from carrying such heavy bags, but she pulled herself together as she had somewhere to be. She began unzipping one of the smaller bags she had brought up, and began rummaging around in it.
"Bye Pheebs!" Kirsty yelled up the stairs, from the front door. "I've gotta go now!"
Phoebe rushed to the top of the stairs to say goodbye to her friend. "Bye Kirst, I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"
"Of course, see ya. Bye Mrs. Stevens!"
"See you soon Kirsty," Phoebe's mum complied as she showed her out from the front door, waving her off.

Phoebe returned to her room, and continued rummaging in her bag. She pulled out a gold cased lipstick. She paused, looking down at the lipstick and smiled. This was his favourite. Phoebe continued on to a mirror that was hung on the wall, and began coating her lips in the ruby yet subtle red lipstick. She pouted and kissed the air, giggling. Phoebe made sure her hair was in check, even though it almost always was. It was effortless. After gussying up, she threw the lipstick on the bed and exited the room, closing the door behind her. Hurrying down the stairs, she was out the front door before her mother could even ask if she'd be home for dinner.

She had entered a totally different neighbourhood from her own. One that looked like a young girl like her would need a big surly male escort. The lawns in this neighbourhood were unkempt, and litter covered the streets. The cheap girls were giving her looks and the dirty men were giving her different sorts of looks. But it wasn't the first time she had frequented this neighbourhood, and she wasn't a stranger to the uncomfortableness that was the walk to her destination. But what was at her destination was worth the glares and unpleasant environment.

In her sight was a 1973 Ford F-250 pick-up truck, with the hood popped up. The truck was clearly not in its glory days, as far as body work goes. But she wasn't interested in the truck; her only interest was the man who was doing work on the truck. She smiled, as she slowly walked towards him. She leaned against a telephone pole, that was a few steps behind the man. She wanted to study him for a minute before making her presence known.

The man was bent over the front of the truck, with his head and right arm under the hood of the pick-up, his left arm resting on the front of the truck to keep him upright. His hair and stubble were scruffy. Oil and dirt covered his hands, arms and patches of his face. His brown checked shirt was also dirty, with a couple of buttons undone. The sleeves had been torn off leaving a few pieces of thread hanging down his toned, tanned shoulders. Faint scars went up and down his arms revealing the kind of background this man had grown from. He wore old, black jeans, with rips in the knees and a red cloth hanging from his back pocket.

Phoebe bit her lip and interrupted him. "Take me for a ride?"

His ears perked up like a puppy, as he knew that voice and use of innocent innuendo. As he turned to face her, it was as if a guard had fallen away and a weight had been lifted. He could be relaxed when she was around, instead of his usual tensed structure. Daryl took the cloth from his back pocket and wiped sweat and dirt from his forehead. "You al'right?"
She swaggered towards him. "Mmmhm..." She tugged the bottom of his shirt to bring herself closer to him, as she planted a kiss on the side of his mouth and looked up at him, like she was awaiting approval. The odour of cigarettes and motor oil flooded the air around her. Daryl threw the ragged cloth onto the truck and loosely put both of his arms around her neck as he lowered his head to lay a soft and passionate kiss upon her red lips. They felt as soft as the inside of a newly blossomed rose, which compensated for the somewhat rough and dry texture of his own. Phoebe let out a sigh of relief as she has been awaiting the touch of Daryl's lips and contact of his skin for so long. She nuzzled her face into his chest, as she wrapped her arms around his waist. Daryl held her closer and tighter as he rested his chin on the top of her head. No words needed to be spoken; they both felt the mutual satisfaction of being with each other again.

It was getting late, and both Phoebe and Daryl were up in Phoebe's old bedroom after they had just endured a more than awkward dinner with Phoebe's parents. It wasn't her mother that was the problem; she just wanted to know how Phoebe had been getting on at college. But her dad on the other hand, he couldn't let go of or hide his dislike for Daryl. It's not like he disliked him personally, he just disliked Daryl's deadbeat father and thug of an older brother. Therefore in his eyes Daryl was just as bad as them two, despite the fact that Daryl was actually nothing like them. There was no changing her father's perception, it had been the same since they were kids. But Phoebe didn't care because her need to keep Daryl out of his father's house was much greater than the awkward, disapproving stares her father would give him over the dinner table.

Phoebe had changed her clothing to something more suitable for sleeping in, or quicker and easier for Daryl to take off. She wasn't sure how it was going to play out tonight. It sometimes takes him a while to warm up to her after she's been away at college. It wasn't a secret that Daryl holds a grudge about her going away to Atlanta. It always left him feeling abandoned, but that wasn't what was bothering him tonight.

Daryl laid silent and thoughtful on Phoebe's bed; he had a look of something on his mind. Phoebe, not wanting to have any form of argument, stayed busy unpacking things she had brought back. She sat at her dressing table, in long, white gym socks with red and blue stripes around the top. Short, grey pyjama shorts hung from her skinny yet curvy waist. On her top half she wore a white vest top, which made it obvious that she was braless. Phoebe unpacked her make-up things and put them away in the drawers of her dressing table, leaving her hair brush and products on top of the table. Phoebe had naturally tight curly hair, which at times was a pain in the ass to manage, but she wouldn't be without it. It was her signature look. She placed the product bottles in size order on her table, as Daryl watched her; tallest ones at the back and shorter ones at the front. She could see Daryl looking at her in the mirror that sat on the table. It was obvious he had something he wanted to talk about, but he wouldn't initiate the conversation.

Phoebe let out a sigh, climbed off of the stall she had been sitting on and crawled onto the bed next to Daryl. She was a bit intimidated by his tense and rigid exterior, but she's experienced it before, and she has her ways of making him melt. Daryl stared deep at her, with a clenched jaw and look of distress, as she sat, crossed legged, looking back at him. Her facial expression was open and her crystal blue eyes were wide, letting him know that it was okay to speak what's on his mind. She nudged his arm.

"Are you going to talk to me then?" she said softly. Daryl looked down. "I know it's my dad. It upsets me too, you know. After all these years, and he refuses to accept you. He's probably still pissed about that time you stole my Barbie when we were kids."
Daryl interrupted, "That was Merle!"
Phoebe smirked. "You used to make fun of my bunches though."
"Ahhh..." Daryl let a half smile and lent his head back, looking down at her. "Only cause I really thought they were adorable. Your mum would do them up with red ribbon," he reminisced. "I used to come over to this street, when I wanted to get away, and I'd watch you just running around. So full of life and spirit." He met her eyes and they paused for a moment. Phoebe felt a sudden sense of relief as a smile came across her face and she spontaneously climbed on top of Daryl, straddling him. A confused and shocked, yet comfortable Daryl let out an awkward "hi" as Phoebe leant down to kiss him.
"Hi," she replied, while her lips still pressed to his.

Suddenly, there were three swift bangs at the door.

"Pheebs!" Her father, Eric, called from the other side of the door. The expression in Daryl went cold and he tensed up. Phoebe looked at him, and then down and let out an annoyed sigh. She lifted her leg up, over Daryl, to climb off of him and then the bed. Daryl sat up, so he was no longer lying on the bed, but perched on the edge of it. The presence of others made him uneasy. Phoebe grabbed a hoodie that was draped over the stall that was sat at her dressing table. She threw it on, gathered herself and opened the door, greeting her stern faced father.

"Yes?" she snapped impatiently.

He was taken back by her tone. He looked at Daryl, and back at her and then complied, "It's late, I think it's time Daryl takes off."

Daryl looked away.
"Dad, I'm 20 years old, I'm not a kid any more. And it's not like we haven't shared a bed before, why do you have a sudden problem now?"

The thought of his little girl sharing a bed with that trash turned Eric's face sour. "I'm not having this discussion. This is my house; me and your mother are going to bed, and he has to leave. Goodnight." He set off down the hall way to his bedroom, silently, but radiating anger. Her father being so harsh and blunt confused Phoebe, but filled her with the need to rebel. She slammed the door.

A stiff structured Daryl stood. "I'll just go, this is stupid."
"No." Phoebe grabbed a bag. "I'll come with you."
"Where? You're not comin' back to mine, or rather my-"
Phoebe cut him off. "I have no intention in going there."
"Where we meant to go then?"
Phoebe was frantically packing over night things into her dark, navy blue bag: underwear, clothes for tomorrow. She walked across into an attached bathroom.

"I don't know." She let out a desperate sigh. "A motel or something. Just anywhere." She dropped the bag down on a marble counter, next to the sink. She grabbed her toothbrush, toothpaste and dropped them into the bag unceremoniously. Phoebe pulled open a drawer. She paused, looking down in the drawer at her birth control pills and morning after pills. Daryl swaggered over to the bathroom, leaning on the door frame, studying her, pensive.

Daryl appreciated Phoebe's need to protect him and deep down he wanted nothing more than to run far away with her. But he knew that he could never be that selfish. She wasn't like him, she had a chance at a future and a supportive family pushing her to pursue that future. Although he sometimes wasn't sure if she even wanted any of that, but nevertheless, Daryl didn't have that. He couldn't even hold down a menial labour job and was always greeted at home by an abusive, drug and alcohol riddled old man. A sorry excuse for a man and an even sorrier excuse for a father. But he's ruled over his life since he was born, and probably always will. The reality of his life weighted heavy on his mind all the time. Except when he's with Phoebe. She's always been his safe place, where he could reside.

Phoebe grabbed the pills harshly, and shoved them into the bag, before zipping up the bag and turning to Daryl, who was still pensively studying her. She sighed, gently walking over to him, placing her hands to the back of Daryl's neck, and pushing their foreheads together.

"I just-"
He spoke. "I know."

Phoebe smiled before heading back into her bedroom to put on a pair of women's Levi's and her tanned, brown cowboy boots. Daryl grabbed her bag from the counter and followed her out of the room and down the stairs. They set outside to Daryl's pick-up and off they went.

Daryl's Ford pick-up turned sharply, into the parking lot of a run down looking motel. Daryl took the empty space, on the far right, the space on its own. They both climbed out the truck, holding their own bags. They had acquired Daryl's before arriving at the motel. Phoebe had waited in the pick-up while Daryl went into his dad's house to pick up a few overnight things. Luckily, his dad had already passed out in his arm chair, so Daryl avoided a confrontation. Phoebe linked her arm around Daryl's in a downwards angel, as they walked to the entrance, locking their hands together.

As they approached the check-in desk, a tall, long haired blonde woman came staggering out from a room. She was still pulling on what little clothing she had in such a hurry that she was getting flustered. Not only that, but she was distraught.

"You're a class-A asshole!" she yelled, as she shoved her way past a shocked Daryl and Phoebe.

"Come back here you little bitch!" yelled an elder man, at least late forties, in a white stained wife beater while he was zipping up his jeans. The look of disgust was all over Phoebe's face as she looked at the man. Daryl pulled her in close.

"What you lookin' at?" the gross man hissed at them before turning back to his room and slamming the door.

Phoebe gave Daryl an unsure look as they turned to the check-in desk.

"Room for two?" the greasy looking man behind the desk asked vacantly.

Still looking unsure, Phoebe replied, "Yeah, please, for a night."

The man got out a room key from a drawer in the desk and maneuvered the sign-in book towards them, while dropping the key on the desk. "That's $40."

Daryl signed the book, while Phoebe got the cash out of her purse. Daryl picked up the key.

"Thanks," he said bluntly.

They carried on down a hall way, with red painted doors mirroring each other down the hall. The paint on the doors was old and chipping off; each door had a gold painted number and letter nailed to the top. Daryl looked down at the key: "9B," it read. They approached room 9B and went on in. The room was dim lighted. Yellow, smoke stained curtains draped over the windows. A double bed was in the centre of the room, poorly made, and the cleanliness of the sheets was open to debate, although it would probably prove to be an open and shut case. The room felt pretty empty, except for side tables on either side of the bed, both with lamps on, an arm chair, and a dresser on the far wall next to the bathroom door. It felt uncomfortable and the thought of the types of people in the rooms next to theirs was even more uncomfortable, but it had to do.

Daryl locked the door behind them, once they had entered, leaving the key in the lock.

"Which side do you want?" he asked, referencing to the sides of the bed.

"Err, I don't mind... Left, I guess."

The one away from the door. A conscious decision. Daryl could see Phoebe felt out of place, as she was rarely, if ever, exposed to places like this. Phoebe set her bag down on the floor, next to her side of the bed, as she sat on the edge of the bed. She looked hopelessly at her phone before sighing, turning it off, and tossing it onto the side table.

"Do you think we could ask to get mints on the pillows?" Daryl joked, hoping to perk her up. Phoebe smirked and look round at him. He was still standing by the door, with his bag over his right shoulder and left hand in his jeans pocket.

"You gonna stand there all night?" Phoebe asked inquisitively.

Daryl felt embarrassed. "No," he muttered as he dropped his bag down onto the arm chair. He kicked off his shoes and swaggered over to the bathroom. "Needa take a piss though." He went into the bathroom, and shut the door behind him.

Phoebe sat, gathering her thoughts. Of course she was still mulling over how she left things with her dad, and what they would think when they wake up in the morning, to find her gone. But she was an adult now, and she was sick of being treated like a little girl every time she came back from college. In all honesty, she only comes back to see Daryl. To make sure he's still in one piece, physically and mentally. Sometimes she wishes she could just pack him up and take him to Atlanta with her. To take him away from his father, as he is 26 years old now after all, but his father has such power over him, installed by fear, that he can't leave. He turns into a frightened child when he's near his father.

She heard the flush of the toilet in the other room. After this bullshit day, Phoebe just wanted to leave problems for tomorrow. Besides she still had that one thing that had been on her mind all semester, since she was away from Daryl. She lifted off her hoodie and dropped it unceremoniously on to the floor. She kicked off her boots and stood up to unzip her jeans. At this point, she heard Daryl turn off the previously running faucet, causing her to smile as she knew Daryl would be in the room soon. She quickly jerked down her jeans, and dumped them on the floor. She sat down on the bed, just in her light, pale, pink laced panties and white vest top that she was already wearing earlier. She had just finished removing her socks, as the door knob to the bathroom door began to turn and open as Daryl entered. He was taken back by her lack of clothing and left to stare amazed at her glossy smooth looking skin. Particularly her legs; her legs had always been his favourite. They were relentless, like they go on for miles. Phoebe caught him staring. "Oi," she snapped playfully.

"Sorry," he replied cheekily. "I just feel a bit over dressed now."

She smirked. "I might be able to help you with that." She strutted over to him, totally dominating the room.

She put her hands on the back of his neck, stroking the ends of his hair with the tips of her fingers. He went for the innocent option, and held onto her waist as he leaned in to kiss her. Their lips met passionately. Daryl held tighter onto her waist as his tongue invaded her mouth. She complied, tasting his last cigarette as she put up a fight for dominance, but was surely failing. She glided her hands down to his chest to unbutton his shirt, still deeply kissing him she pulled his shirt back over his shoulders. He let go of her waist, and the shirt slid down his arms, onto the floor. They paused from kissing, to meet each other's gaze as they both felt a rush of passion and emotion. Phoebe put one hand on his jaw and continued kissing him, as she used her other hand to navigate his up into her shirt. His hands were rough compared to her skin, which turned to faint goose-bumps at his touch. Daryl grasped her breast and rubbed her nipple in a circular motion with his thumb. Phoebe let out a muffled moan as she was still locked lips with an increasingly aroused Daryl. He continued to massage her breast as she lifted her top off over her head, dropping it down to the ground. He raised an eyebrow and he began kissing and lightly biting the top of breasts. Phoebe looked down at him in approval, kissing the top of his head, inhaling the scent of his tousled brown hair, as she franticly grabbed for his other hand, and glided it down into her pants. He barely realised what she had done, as he was too pre-occupied, until he felt her already throbbing, wet clit with his fingers. He kept his hand there, as she resisted the urge to rub against him, as she knew he would tend to it soon enough. He looked up at her, as his tongue began to invade her mouth again. She put one hand on the back of his head, as he walked her backwards.

He removed his hand and lifted her up, dropping her down on her back, onto the bed. Daryl crawled on top of her, kissing her neck and moaning as his hand rubbed on the inside of her thigh. He kissed and licked down past her breasts, and down her abdomen, until he was pulling down her panties with both hands. Phoebe was moaning now, her hand reached out across the bed as she grabbed a hold of the bed sheets. Daryl had his nose pressed against her pubic bone, as he began to lightly kiss and suck at her clit. While she bit her lip to withhold her moans, he moved down, lining her opening with his tongue, still nuzzling at her clit with his nose. His eyes glared up as his tongue entered her, to see that her eyes had rolled in the back of her head. He smirked as he continued thrusting his tongue in and out of her, bringing her close to the edge, but pulling her back to drag her pleasure out longer. Phoebe felt as though she was going to explode, but she wanted to synchronize with Daryl.

She gathered the strength from the pleasure, and nudged Daryl up. An interrupted, yet inquisitive Daryl looked up. "What?" he panted. The look of lust filled her eyes as she forced him over onto his back, taking complete control. She could feel him swelling and hard in his jeans as she carefully unzipped them. Daryl leaned back to watch her. She pulled down the jeans, along with the boxers, revealing his length. Phoebe had her legs apart, either side of him, and he held her waist as she lined herself up with him, lowering down onto his length. He kept his hand positioned on her waist as she began thrusting up and down on top of him, moaning and biting her lip as she looked up at the celling.

"Ah shit." Daryl was getting close, as she kept contracting on him. He wanted to finish rough, so he took a hold of her and started bringing her down hard on to him. She moaned wildly, "Arh Daryl!" His whole length was inside, as she bared down on him a couple of times. Pleasure trickled through her so strongly, that it caused her muscles to shake, and then she felt Daryl unload inside of her. He let out a long sigh of pleasure as his eyes closed.

Phoebe stayed on top of him for a moment, panting, trying to catch her breath. He looked up at her, bringing his hands to her back, pulling her down to him. She layed her hands upon his chest, as she pressed her lips to his, still breathing heavily. She climbed off of him, and fell at his side. No words were really needed at this point. Daryl pulled the covers up over them as he pulled Phoebe under his arm, holding her close. His eyes fell heavy, and so did hers, but neither of them wanted this moment to end. Phoebe looked up at him, her Daryl, as she kissed his chin, and he kissed her nose. "I love you," she said, almost as if she needed to remind him. Daryl only ever remembers Phoebe being the person to say those words to him. His mum might have said it when he was a baby, but he sure as shit didn't remember that. He planted a kiss on her pouty lips. "I love you too." And just like that, they were both out like lights, refuelling for the day to come.