What do I say what do I say what do I say what do I say what do I say?

"Um."

That's what I went with. Um. Real eloquent, Beth. You're nailing it. He tells me I'm pretty and all I can come up with is um.

"Sorry, I –" he started.

"No, you too. You're pretty too. Well not pretty. Handsome. A looker, a real looker!"

He laughed, a real bark of laughter, not the small puff of air I'd grown accustomed to.

"I gotta go. Groceries melting."

And I left. Ran away. Really panicked. Hopped in my car and peeled out of his dusty driveway and drove faster than I ever had. Looking in the rearview mirror, I saw Billy looking up at Daryl. They were both confused by my hasty exit.

Groceries melting? Why did I say that? Why did I leave? Exactly what I would have wanted to happen literally happened. He called me pretty, "so fucking pretty" with a look in his eye that made me shiver. I could have done anything; I could have run up to him and kissed him. We could be in bed by now.

But instead I said, "Groceries melting." I had no groceries that would be melting. Why would I say groceries melting? And I called him a looker, a real looker? Had I not gone to school for eighteen years, done well in English, been on the school newspaper? Hadn't I read countless books and written short stories. Didn't I sing songs in public and speak to people every day, never once tripping over my words?

My Daddy said I had a way with words.

Until now. "Groceries melting." What the hell was I gonna say when I saw him next? "Customers eating, time for Beth to leave this space which you are in."

And I would see him, and soon. I took deep breaths as I drove the fairly short distance between our two houses. Only a couple miles of road with woods on the side. I knew the woods decently well, having spent my last couple of years around here in a secluded haze. Those woods had been something I'd forced myself to go into. A way to get out of bed, out of my cocoon. I pulled off on the side of the road, locked my car, and head into the woods towards a little brook that I knew was close.

Sitting on a little rock, I cried. Maybe I was being overdramatic. But I needed to cry because I felt like the stupidest girl in the world. I just wanted something good. Daryl seemed like something good. But I couldn't even say anything to him to convey that I liked him. A lot.

He told me I was pretty. He spoke so plainly it hurts my heart in the best way. I wanted to hear him say it one more time. I wish I had it on videotape, so I could play it over and over again. I can't believe he said that to me.

And I can't believe how much I screwed it up. Why hadn't I gone to him? Why hadn't I said what I was thinking. "I'm so into you, Daryl. You're nice to me and really handsome and your arms make me want to die in a good way and I think I want to have your babies."

Maybe it's for the best I didn't say that either. But I should have said something. Something better.


I had a shift that night. I wanted to crawl into a ditch and become a mole person, but I still went. Working at Dixon's Place, his place, felt like the only thing that kept me going.

I rehearsed things I could say to him. Went over a million different scenarios in my head.

I wished I could call Maggie. Tried to ignore the deep ache in my chest at how badly I wished I could pull out my phone and just text her. How much easier it would make my life if she was here to tell me what to do.

He wasn't there when I first arrived. At least, his bike wasn't out front. I felt myself let out a sigh of relief.

Carol was leaving her shift, closing up one table before she could go and leave me to work the rest of the night. Wednesdays were the slowest, so we only needed one waitress on at a time.

But I grabbed her by the elbow as she was clocking out, looking for any sort of help I could get.

"Carol," I whispered. "Can I talk to you?"

"Course, hon."

I pulled her to a corner booth, where some of us employees sat when it was slow. I usually didn't come over here, preferring to hang out behind the bar or in the kitchen. Daryl never sat over here. Maybe that's why I hadn't come here yet. Maybe it's where I'd be all night.

"I like Daryl."

"Ok."

"You don't seem surprised."

"You weren't exactly covert about it."

I felt my cheeks go pink.

"Ok, maybe you're right. But I think he likes me."

"I think so too."

"You do?!"

Carol just gave me a knowing smile.

"I do."

I took a deep breath and recounted the whole morning to her, letting nearly every thought I'd had over the course of the morning, and every silly thing I'd said.

"Sweetheart." She said simply, and kindly, a small smile still playing on her lips. "Daryl, of all people, understands tripping over words. Just tell him how you feel. Don't be so hard on yourself."

It was such simple advice. I wanted to agonize more, but what else could I say? She was right.


Later, he was there. He'd let Karen go home early and taken over behind the bar. It was her and Tyreese's anniversary. It was slow enough that he could cook and man the bar.

He was cooking Rusty, who might as well put this address on all his mail, some chicken tenders and fries to soak up some of the booze in his stomach. It broke our hearts to serve him, sometimes. What could we do, send him to AA? Refuse him service? We were his home. We couldn't send him away when we were all he had.

I set out a water for him and looked out at the empty restaurant. I wondered if Daryl ever worried about the business on nights like tonight. How did he pay the rent if this was a normal occurrence?

We hadn't spoken. He nodded at me and went straight to the kitchen when he first got here, and I'd been cashing out my last table.

I needed to talk to him. I really really needed to set everything straight and make sure he knew how I felt. Then maybe I could kiss him and marry him and bear his children.

Baby steps, Beth. Baby steps.

He finally emerged from the kitchen, placing the plate of food in front of Rusty and grabbing his shoulder slightly, nodding for him to eat. Rusty complied.

He started cleaning up behind the bar, dunking glasses into the sink and setting them out to dry. Always busying himself with something, never taking a moment to rest.

"Daryl." I said, trying to find confidence in my voice.

Not looking at me, he started. "Sorry 'bout earlier. Shouldn't have said anything. Real inappropriate of me and all."

"No, Daryl, I wanted to say –'

"I'm your boss and we shouldn't be talkin' like that."

"No, I, uh."

Again, I couldn't find the words. He continued washing glasses. I took one from his hand, setting it down, and tugging him by his wrist away from the bar and towards his office.

When we got his office, I looked at him.

"What are we doin in here?" He asked, looking at me sternly. "We don't have to be talkin' or nothin. I know I made you uncomfortable and that's on me and it don't mean work has to be awkward – "

I needed him to stop rambling. Never thought Daryl would be a rambler.

I needed him to stop talking and not allowing me to express how I felt. So I kissed him. Pushed myself onto my tippy toes and pressed my lips to his, ever so slightly. It was soft and lasted barely a second. He looked down at me, confusion playing across his face.

I didn't want him to be confused so I kissed him again. Let my lips linger on his a second longer than before. I was shaking a bit, waiting for him to reciprocate, waiting for him to do anything. I took a step back, feeling embarrassed. Maybe he wouldn't reciprocate after all.

Then, after an eternity, he did. He pulled me towards him and kissed me. A hard searing kiss. Pushed me towards the wall and kissed me over and over again. Kissed my lips my cheeks my neck. Came back up and kissed me with everything. His tongue was sliding against mine and he was sliding his knee between my legs and I felt him pressing against me.

We were crazed. It was not soft or practiced or elegant. It was sloppy and amazing. I felt heat pooling in my stomach, felt myself getting wet. He was kissing my neck and it felt so good I could die. He was kissing my neck and his hand was grazing my ass and I was putting my hands anywhere I could. Running my hands through his hair and looping my arms around his neck so our bodies could be closer together.

The bell on the door clanged, letting us know we had a customer.

We both laughed a bit, resting our foreheads together, and breathing heavily.

He started kissing my neck again, softer, less frenzied.

"We got a customer, Daryl."

"Is prolly just Rusty stumblin' around."

I giggled, pushing him back a bit.

"Does that make it clearer what I feel about this morning?" My lips were swollen and my cheeks were flushed. I felt warm and unsatisfied but happy.

"I 'spose."

I punched him in the shoulder softly.

"Let's go see who it is."

"Fuckin' cocklock that's who."

I threw my head back and laughed, looking back at him surprised. "Hush!" I said, smiling despite myself. I felt warm from my head to my toes. I couldn't stop smiling, and I had a feeling I wouldn't be able to stop anytime soon.

But sometimes you are wrong.

Because the customer was Zach. The bad-boy biker who'd come through, more than a month ago now. The guy I'd slept with, flirt with over text. The guy who I thought was gone. The one fun night I decided to have. No strings attached for one time in my whole life.

But he wasn't in Arkansas or in Wyoming or in California. His life on the road had led him back here. And he was looking at me like he was expecting a big welcome.

A/N: Bwahaha i am evil