The living room is empty when they arrive at Charlie's place, the grandfather clock ticking into well past midnight in the front hall. He has stay two summers in a row, picking up a desk job at the King County Sherriff's office, mostly sorting files and occasionally dropping off and picking up rigs from the shop. It isn't hard work, but it's a nice summer job and he can still make the short drive home often enough to satisfy his mother.

Dropping his duffle bag on the bench, he slips his shoes off and tosses them into the cupboard next to a pair of bright yellow flip-flops. He grins at the sight of them, his exhaustion from the drive up from Kentucky State almost completely forgotten.

"I'm gonna turn in, yeah?" Charlie whispers, though his voice is still loud enough to wake the dead. "Sleep wherever," he offers Rick a light punch to the arm and drags himself toward the stairs. The thick-shouldered linebacker disappeared into the shadows of the upper floor, leaving Rick on his own in the dark hall.

Comfortable enough in the house, Rick heads for the kitchen, hoping that Mrs. Turner has made some of her lemon grass iced tea. The kitchen is the same as it was in the years past, its walls a light sunshine colour that is bright even in the dead of night. It smells like lemons and he spots a bowl of rinds on the counter, making his mouth water even before he pulls open the fridge to find the pitcher of tea.

He pours himself a glass and finishes it on the spot before helping himself to more, this time sipping slowly as he ambles around the room. When he gets to the back door that opens onto a covered deck he pauses, catching a flickering light in his periphery. Squinting, he tilts his head, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

When his vision clears he sees her curled up on a wicker loveseat, her long hair tossed over her shoulders, a thin novel opened up and held just inches from her nose. She is reading by the light of a gas lantern that is sitting next to a half-full glass of ice tea.

He taps on glass that is set into the frame of the door to avoid scaring her, and then pushes it open to step out into the hot night. The backyard is alive with fireflies and a chorus of crickets. "Hi," he greets her, his palms suddenly more sweaty than they had been just moments before.

Lori looks up from her book as though she'd been expecting him all along. Her face lights up into a smile and she lays her book down on her knee. "Rick," she greets him, her voice a light whisper. "We've been waiting all day," she drawls, her voice bordering on a light scold. "You should have called, really. Mom had dinner ready for five and everything."

Rick shakes his head, listening to her rant softly at him, unable to take his eyes off the slight curl of her fingers and her legs that he can see are bare now, covered only by a small throw blanket. She's wearing sleeping shorts that have bunched up halfway up her thighs and the sight makes his mouth suddenly feel very dry. Clearing his throat he takes a sip of his tea.

"Listen to me," she gathers her hair and flicks it over her shoulder before pushing it behind her ears. "You're barely in the door and I'm already givin' you the third degree."

He nods, trying to swallow away the parched feeling that is suddenly affecting his voice, and his ability to breathe right. Without her hair there he can see that she is wearing a top with just the tiniest, thinnest straps he's ever seen in his life.

She laughs softly, the bridge of her nose wrinkling slightly. "You're acting curiously tonight, Rick Grimes."

Moving forward, he takes a seat beside her on the couch, his eyes fixed on her lap. When she laughs again the sound serves to knock some sense into him and he clears his throat. "What are you reading?" he asks, settling back against the cushion behind him, his eyes finding her mossy green ones.

"The Scarlet Letter," she answers, holding up an antique copy of the book with an embossed floral design on its leather cover. She shrugs, shoving a braided cord into the pages before snapping the book closed and holding it out to him.

He accepts it and turns it over in his hands, surprised at how soft the worn leather is under his fingers.

"It's about a woman who is accused of adultery and the whole town humiliates her by making her wear an 'A' on her chest to atone for her wicked sins," she rolls her eyes as she finishes her summary and uncurls her legs to prop her feet up on the table before her. "Yeah, right," she sighs. "God forbid a girl want to have a little fun."

Rick watches her profile as she stares into the dimming light of the lantern. "Is that what you want, Lori?" he finds himself asking, tossing the book onto the table beside her bare feet. "A little fun?"

She snorts, turning her face to look him over. "I want a nice boy, Rick," she tells him, her face turning more serious. "Someone who will," she sighs, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "Save me from the complete boredom of this town… who will take me on an adventure. Someone to go away with."

Unsure of how to answer her, he offers her a simple nod.

"What do you want, Rick?" she asks, slowly getting to her feet the blanket falling away into a pool at her feet. She fixes her shorts before turning her attention to the lantern.

He eyes the sliver of skin where her shirt doesn't quite meet her shorts at the small of her back, his brain almost drunk with the sight of her.

"Well?" she prompts, turning around to face him, her hands falling onto her hips that are more shapely than he remembers them being last summer.

You. The answer is so plain and so bold at the same time. An honest-to-god truth that sits at the tip of his tongue, teetering so wildly that he is both terrified that he will say it, and that he wont. His nerve falters and he deflates a little as the word retreats, too cowardly to present her with the truth. "I, uh, a place to sleep," he finally answers, running his hands over the polyester fabric of his shorts.

Lori shakes her head, as though disappointed with his answer. And then she straightens, pushing her hair behind her ears again. "I can do that," she brightens again, crossing her arms over her chest as she leads him inside. "You know I got a scholarship to Kentucky State?" she says more than asks before continuing. "I'm going, in the fall, in case Charlie didn't mention it. And in case you were interested."

She picks up his bag on the way up the first set of stairs, then leads him up again to the attic that had been converted into a guest room. The bed is already made up, but she takes a moment to open the window above the headboard. "When I grow up I'm going to have air conditioning," she announces decidedly, loosening the covers on the bed.

He nods, still standing in the middle of the room, the only spot where he doesn't have to duck to avoid getting a concussion.

Lori pauses to look around the room, flicking her teeth over her bottom lip. "Well," she shrugs, moving towards him. "I guess I'll just let you off here."

Rick nods again, watching her head towards the stairs. His heart suddenly picks up speed, catching him off guard as she begins to drop out of sight. "Lori," he calls her, his voice a little too loud. He winces as she turns around. He falters, unsure of what he wanted to say in the first place. "I… you know – I'd like air conditioning too, one day," he stammers, mentally kicking himself when her face lifts into a wide grin.

"Glad to know it, Rick," she shakes her head, her nose wrinkling again in amusement. "You have a good night now," she tells him firmly.

"You too, Lori," Rick watches her disappear. The house is silent and he hears her door close before his chest deflates as he breathes for the first time in ages. "I love you," he tries the words out loud, and then shakes his head. Charlie was going to kill him.