"You don't think I can hit it from here?" I ask, looking up to Daryl, "Care to bet something on that?" My disappointment turns into a sly grin, deciding to make target practice into a little game.

It's been over a week since the hunting blind, and as much I hate to admit it, things are as normal as they've ever been between us. Tracking lessons, killing walkers, hunting, more lessons, and not a single incident. Not even a look, and to be completely honest, it's driving me crazy- yet, I say nothing and do nothing because I don't want to be 'that girl'. The girl that can't let go, no way, that is not me. Not a chance.

-Quit lying to yourself. My mind snaps at me, completely oblivious to the fact that I am really trying to let it go.

"What the hell we got to bet? A can of beans?" Daryl retorts now, sarcasm and amusement in his voice.

Looking back down the scope, the empty bottle is in the perfect spot, I could hit it blindfolded but his lack of faith in me has turned my competitive side on overdrive,

"Hmm, how 'bout a shirt." I say, my eye still fixed on the scope. I wait for some kind of witty remark and when nothing happens, I look at him and his face is truely award worthy. A brutal glare is what I'm met with, and I can't stop the innocent smile from gracing my lips, my girl-like dimples adding even more innocence to the suggestion, "What? You aren't scared are you?"

Now he grunts, shaking his head, "Fine. This is gonna be fun for me." He states, sounding like an honest guy.

With that, I crouch down, angling myself for a better shot before feeling the wind blowing slightly towards the west, and set the crosshairs just a second to the east of the bottle. Breathing out slowly, I feel the trigger move easily and in an instant the bottle disappears from view, a huge smile crossing my lips as I look up to him expectantly,

"Well?" I ask, and without hesitation he pulls the shirt over his head and just like that, we're back in the blind the first time I saw him shirtless.

"Lose somethin' over here?" Daryl asks mockingly, bringing me back to reality. Tearing my eyes away with reluctance, he pulls his crossbow up, and I see the squirrel he's aiming at impaled in the tree behind it within a couple seconds. His eyes return to mine, a devilish grin tugging the corner of his mouth.

I set the rifle on the ground, keeping my eyes locked on his as I pull the blue tank top slowly over my head before throwing it at him, "What are we betting now?" I ask, watching his eyes move over my body.

"Nothin'. I think it's time to head back." He states, picking his shirt off the ground, and the simple fact that he could say something like that sent my blood straight past boiling point. Lurching forward, I yank the shirt from his hand, pleased with the reaction playing in his face,

"You want it back? How about a trade? I'll give it back when you admit that something happen in that blind." I say, moving away everytime he grabbed for it and I can just see the frustration beginning to seep into his eyes.

-Good. He deserves it. I think to myself, smiling the whole time.

"What'd you want me to say, Nora?" Daryl stops now, his hands thrown up in question, "You want me to say tha' it'll happen 'gain? 'Cause it aint. There ain't a damn thing between us, so stop tryin'."

The plaid shirt falls from my hand, and I just look at him, in complete shock before moving closer, retrieving my own shirt. Without even thinking or knowing what the hell had gotten into me, I reach out and slap him. Hard. Hard enough to send pain rushing through my hand, but he's doesn't retaliate, doesn't even look at me again.

I couldn't care less though as I yank the tank top back on before shouldering my rifle and storm away through the woods. Not bothering to pay attention, because who cares where I end up, or who will even know I'm gone, because just like I knew would happen, I feel my chest start to tighten and my lungs constrict, because what just happen was everything that I had been so scared of.

I was an idiot to be with Daryl Dixon that way, to let him do what he did, and to love every second of it. And I'm still very much so an idiot for even letting it faze me for an instant, but it is. It hurts and the rejection radiates through me like a nuclear bomb just went off right beside me and by this time, I'm running, letting my lungs burn because right now, it feels real. I need something real, because obviously what happen in that blind was NOT real. And as if the great Lord above me is just trying to rub it in my face for being, probably the biggest idiot he ever created, I look aways through the trees and see the wooden hunting blind perched in between the branches, mocking me.

"Of course." I sigh, trying to catch my breath as I near the old pine. Looking around, I jump up, barely grasping the edge before pulling myself up and over with a tired grunt. Once inside the tiny, very dimly lit space, I see the old quilts like we had left them, and everything else pushed to the side. I hit the floor with every bit of strength I have left, loving the pain that splinters through my hand and wrist, as a single, brave tear escapes my eye.

"To hell with it." Muttering under my breath as I set the rifle up in the corner beside me. Hardly a few silent minutes go by before I hear leaves crunching,

"Nora." Daryl calls out, making me see red. The sheer audacity of the man is astounding, and I feel a new anger spread through me because how dare he come after me?

- Stop being such a drama queen, Nora. I spit at myself, knowing damn well how much of one I really am being. Yet, right now, I can't be bothered to give a shit.

I hear him right beneath me now, and of course he knows where I'm at, "I shouldn'ta said that. I-I-I don't know what else to do. Come down." Daryl says, his voice soft and caring for the first time and it's odd because it just doesn't sound like him at all. But, I'm a Boudreaux, and by default I'm about as stubborn as a mule, if not more so, so I choose to give no reply, not even a dirty look. Daryl Dixon isn't worth it, sure, he was a hellofa good lay, that's it. Right?

"Fine." I hear him say, before feeling the entire branch shake with his weight. My eyes meet his as he pulls himself up, his arm muscles straining against the weight. And as he rolls around to sit, I'm still looking at him, hoping looks can really kill. Over the next few seconds, my brain turns into a jumbled up mess because I'm not really thinking much at all as I lunge towards the man. I'm aware of landing one good punch, because my already aching fist felt the new wave of searing pain but I all I can think about is making him hurt too.

Yet, like before, I end up pinned against the floor, Daryl's weight holding my arms over my head, "Are you gonna make me say it?" He asks, hovering over me, just inches from my face. What more can I do except glare, unblinkingly meeting his eyes until defeat flashes through his features, and he let's his head hang just a moment before looking back to me, "I'm sorry."

Just like that, I don't feel quite as mad anymore, just as betrayed, but no where near as pissed off. His apology is another first, and it struck me as being something Daryl didn't say much at all. If ever. He's still so close to me, and I hate him for it all over again, though. I stop looking at him, instead turning my head away completely, looking at a spec on the wall, taking myself away from the situation as much as possible. And really, it's all fine and dandy until I feel him kiss my neck, and all those feelings rush through me, feelings I do not want to feel right now.

"Stop." I command, but it's the farthest thing from a command, because it only comes out in a hushed whisper. Daryl's obviously not listening because he just keeps doing it until I begin to squirm beneath him. His weight comes off of me and I quickly slid from underneath him.

"What the hell are you doing?" I ask, my voice hoarse and my breathing a little too quick.

"Hell, it's what you want, ain't it?" He retorts, giving me an unreadable expression.

Throwing my hands up, I move towards the entrance, staying as far from him as I can, " You're a real dick, just hope you know-."

Yet, before I can finish my sentence, or my escape for that matter, one arm is around my waist, yanking me to floor with barely a second passing until his lips are mine. I struggle for a moment, not wanting to do this to myself again, but as his hands move over my skin and his lips trail down my collar bone, I give in. Mentally, physically, letting instinct and frustration take over. Pulling his hair before finding their way to his belt buckle, my hands working a little more efficiently this time.

Unlike last time though, there's so no slow undressing going on. He hardly gets his pants to his knees before jerking my shorts down, his hands pushing my shirt up just enough to kiss my bare stomach, kissing all the way up, finally reaching my lips again. His strong hands pick me up, sitting me on his lap. As I straddle him, there's no question from either of us now. I look into his eyes seeing the exact same want that's rushing through me, with his hands pushing me up and down, a moan escapes both of our lips as we fall into a quick rhythm. That urgency coming back to us, much harder than before.

"Daryl.." His name comes out more like a groan as his fingers dig into my back, and he looks up to me. The question I want to ask is lost as his kisses me hard, and now my nails are scratching across his shoulders, both of our breathing becoming more ragged as grunts and moans fill the space around us. When we finally stop, Daryl falls back into the pile of quilts, sweat causing his hair to stick on his forehead. Still straddling him, I let myself fall, too, my head landing against his chest.

"Daryl?" The mans name again comes from my lips between quick breaths.

"Hmm?" He answers, his hands now playing with a few stray strands of my hair.

"Why did we do this again?" I ask, too afraid to meet his eyes. Truth is, I could keep doing this no problem, and he wanted to, too. Right?

With his fingers still nimbly running through my hair, he sighs, searching for an answer, "Wanted to I guess."

This time, I do look at him with a scoff, "You said it wouldn't happen a-"

His lips cut me off, as he pulls my body off him, I lay to the side until we stop, my breathing becoming ragged once more, "I know what I said, blondie." Daryl kisses me one more time, "Guess I ain't too good at lyin'."