Thank you all so much for the amazing response to the first two chapters. I am having a lot of fun writing this. xo
I was laughing like a crazy woman. Couldn't help myself. If I calmed down at all and quit laughing and shouting, he would speed up or drive in a windy line to get my heart going again.
Daryl hadn't told me that my ride home would be a motorcycle. I'd been nervous to get on it, hesitant to wrap my arms around his waist. He had a teasing look as his face when I asked if it was safe. Then, after a second more of hesitation, his face had softened. "We're gettin' ya home safe. Scouts honor."
So now we were hurtling towards my house at warp speed. He was shouting back at me and asking me directions and I wondered how long it would take him to notice I was taking him on a couple of detours. The scenic route.
"It's up here," I shouted up, realizing sadly that the drive had to come to an end at some point.
He pulled up to my place. It was small, it was quiet, but it was mine. Just a little cottage on the corner of a small town, Willow's Creek. It was the closest town to Dixon's but people were usually coming through from the other direction. The town on the other side, a few more miles away had a Walmart and stop lights.
My town had a general store instead of a Walmart. Stop signs, not stop lights But I liked it that way. Daryl pulled up right in front of the porch. My porch with my porch swing. The wood might be splintered but those were my splinters. I owned every one of those splinters.
I swung my leg to get off the bike, taking a peek at Daryl.
"You live here?"
"Yeah, why?"
"This place is like a five-minute drive from the bar. We've been riding twenty at least."
I smiled at him slyly and felt my face flush.
"I was having fun."
He narrowed his eyes at me but I knew he wasn't mad.
"Daryl?"
"Yeah?"
I looked back at my little place and thought of inviting him. I thought of showing him everything in my place. I thought of offering him a night cap because that's what adults did, right? I had a cute little bar cart and everything. I could make him whatever he wanted. He could sit on my little white couch and I could sit next to him and we could talk about our lives. He could drape his arm around me and we could kiss chastely, like two fumbling teenagers kissing for the first time at a movie theater.
I caught myself getting lost in the silly fantasy and I realized I hadn't said anything for too long. He was looking at me again. It looked like he was thinking hard.
"What are you thinking about?" I found myself asking him.
He hesitated.
"Nothin."
"Oh. Okay."
I spun on my heel, the gravel of my driveway crunching beneath my feet.
"Hey, Beth."
So I turned back around and looked at him. A rough looking guy on a motorcycle, his face lit up by the moonlight. It looked like I was living in a romance novel, this man looking like that looking at me. I thought maybe he'd say, "I was thinking that I fancy you and want to take to you out on a date" or something crazy like that.
But this was Daryl Dixon we were talking about. Daryl didn't talk like that. Even picturing him saying such a silly thing was the most ridiculous thought that had ever crossed my mind.
All he said was, "G'nite."
"Good night, Daryl."
Daryl wasn't in the restaurant the next day.
Or the next.
Then the day after that was my day off. I drove to the Walmart and wandered the never-ending aisles and I didn't give one thought to Daryl Dixon.
I didn't think about him when I picked out a new sundress to wear to the restaurant or when I passed the hunting aisle. I didn't wonder what kind of snacks he liked or what kind of groceries he would buy if we were shopping together.
Nope. Didn't give him one single thought.
That is, of course, until I ran my cart into him as he was coming out of the pet aisle.
"You tryna kill me?"
He didn't look surprised to see me here but boy was I surprised to see him. I'd just spent all my time in the store not thinking about him and there he was, holding a squeaky dog toy.
"Wait, wait. Why do you have a dog toy?"
He sighed, rubbing a palm across his face. "Frickin' mutt keeps showing up at my place."
My mouth fell open. "You have a dog?"
"I do not have a dog. I have a mutt who won't showing up on my dang doorstep."
"Do you feed it?"
"I might have fed it once. One time! And now it won't leave me be."
I grabbed the squeaky toy from him, throwing it into my cart. "Alright, you're gonna need some more dog food and a couple more toys. You should get the kong thing, you can put peanut butter in it, dogs love that."
"I'm not keeping this dog, Beth, I don't need all this shit."
"Then why are you getting it a cute little squeaky toy? That's pretty permanent."
He looked at me, defeated.
"What are you gonna name him?"
Daryl groaned.
"Can I meet him? Where is he?"
Daryl sighed again. "He's back at my place."
"Oh. Well can you bring him by the restaurant or something tomorrow so –"
"You should come meet him now."
To say I was surprised would be an understatement. I was floored. Daryl was asking me to his house, right now? Is this a date? I did ask about meeting the dog…
"Right now?"
"That's what I said, ain't it?"
So the next thing I knew I was following his bike in my car through familiar streets. He lived by Dixon's, closer to Willow's Creek, but not as near town as I was. His place was like mine. Small, splintered wood, his.
Having some place be yours makes it beautiful. His place reminded me of that. The independence of having something be yours, the freedom of it, and the pride.
At his stoop, sat the dog. It was the cutest thing I'd ever seen, a wiry little mutt, waiting for Daryl patiently. He didn't bark or yelp. His tail banged the dirt road, the only sign of excitement. Most dogs would be on top of you at the first whiff of food. But not him.
He waited at the stoop as I got the bag of dog stuff out of my trunk. His tail started wagging more excitedly, banging the ground. His little body was shaking, but there he was, dutifully sitting.
"You're alright boy," Daryl said, putting his palm on the dog's face. The dog leaned into Daryl's hand, instantly comforted by his presence.
I had an inkling Daryl may have fed this dog more than once.
I started scratching behind his ears and slowly but surely, I lured him away from Daryl. I grabbed a bone from the bag and gave it to him. He settled down beside me, gnawing on his bone, as happy as could be.
"He's pretty dang cute," I said, smiling up at Daryl.
Reluctantly, Daryl smiled a little bit too, patting the dog's head. "He's alright."
"I think you should call him Billy." I said.
"Billy?"
"Billy."
"Well, Billy it is."
We sat on Daryl's stoop with Billy and we didn't talk much. Billy tired of his bone eventually and came to rest his head in my lap.
Daryl looked at me, chewing on his thumbnail. "Do you wanna keep him? He likes you."
"No, no. I couldn't."
"Why not?" Daryl asked, squinting at me.
"My mama always said having a dog was like making a deal with a devil. You're gonna love 'em more than anything and lose 'em sooner than you can bear."
I looked down at Billy's wiry head on my lap and already felt an attachment growing in my heart that I couldn't ignore.
"It's better you keep him." I said, fighting off a lump in my throat.
Daryl nodded, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and considering it. "You mind?"
I shook my head. He lit it up and started puffing. I don't know when my aversion to cigarettes had shifted so dramatically, but I had a thought it might have something to do with him.
"I knew your Daddy." He said, cigarette hanging from his lips.
My heart quickened.
"You did?"
"He used to come 'round my uncle's place. My place, now I guess. But back when it was my uncle's. My whole family would drink there all day and night. Your daddy came by to drink sometimes too."
I smiled. He never drank past when I was around ten. Daryl must have been a teenager when he met him.
"He was never mean. Most drunks are mean. He was always nice to me. Too nice. I never knew why."
Despite my better efforts, a couple of quiet tears slipped down my face. "Course he was nice to you. Who couldn't be nice to you? You're just a sweetheart. Can't be mean to a sweetheart."
"Shut up."
I giggled, wiping tears off my face. I felt him looking at me again, in that intense way of his.
"Why you always looking at me like that?" I said, playfully.
He shrugged, looking away. I felt a bubble of frustration in my stomach, feeling stupid for saying anything about it, and angry that he made me feel stupid for saying anything about it.
I stood, suddenly, startling Billy.
"I should probably go. Groceries in my car are gonna spoil an' all."
Billy trotted after me, confused as to where I was going. He was looking between me and Daryl, not wanting to pick.
"Beth," he said.
"Yeah?"
"You're so pretty. That's…that's why I look at you all the time. Cause you're so fuckin' pretty."
I nearly fainted.
