**Way. Past. My. Bedtime, Leyshla Gisel, Maddy120296, halodoll89- Thank you so much for your reviews! Seeing those notifications in my inbox never fails to make me smile. I am so happy that you seem to be enjoying so far! Thank you for your time!**

Refugee

Chapter Two

"Well I don't know but I've been told, you never slow down, you never grow old.
I'm tired of screwin' up, tired of goin' down,
Tired of myself, tired of this town,
Oh my, my, oh hell yes - Honey put on that party dress.
Buy me a drink, sing me a song,
Take me as I come , 'cause I can't stay long."

-Mary Jane's Last Dance by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

Thankfully, the next morning had flown by and I found myself on lunch break at a nearby McDonald's, scarfing down my second double cheeseburger and . I only had a few minutes left, so as soon I finished I put the key in the ignition of my black chrome 2003 Harley Davidson Road King, or as I like to call her, Cleopatra. It had taken me five years to build her, and she was my pride and joy. Worth more than my own life.

Cleopatra and I jetted down the highway until we pulled into Dixon's gravelparking lot, in my usual spot right in between my brother's truck and my best friend's car. I ignored the orange and blue Be Back in an Hour! sign that was hanging on the front door, and walked in to see Merle and Jimmy finishing up their own lunches behind the counter. The three of us used to go off together, but ever since they had found themselves some girlfriends, they brought a packed lunch every day. I'd be lyin' if I said I wasn't a little jealous.

"Hey, shithead," Merle greeted me lovingly, as usual. "How much longer you got on that tire rotation for that Thunderbird? Guy wants to pick it back up at 3."

"Almost done. Tell him it'll be done by 2." I reached my arms over my head and gave myself a good stretch before I pressed play on our old radio and headed out to the shop, whistling along to Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Sweet Home Alabama".

A little after 5:00pm, I pulled down my driveway and parked Cleo underneath the lean-to. I made my way to the mailbox, which turned out to be empty, and out of curiosity, I glanced down the road at Molly's house. The yellow Volkswagon Beetle from the day before was parked in front. I figured that meant she was home.

As I heard the click of my front door I thought about returning her glass tray from the day before. It was of no use to me anymore, anyway. I threw the brownies in the trash the minute I tasted them last night because they literally tasted like the bottom of my fuckin' boot. Quit. I scolded myself. It was nice of her to try.

I set my keys on the kitchen table and walked over to the tray to give it a quick scrub in the sink. I used the back of my hand to scratch the itch of my tanned brow, and unfortunately got an unwelcomed sniff of my own B.O. I quickly decided to shower before I walked over.

A couple minutes later, I turned the knob and grabbed the grey towel hanging over my navy blue shower curtain to dry myself off. I glimpsed at myself in the mirror as I combed through my unruly brown hair. I need a fuckin' haircut. Startin' to look like Billy Ray Fuckin' Cyrus over here.

Shortly after, I slid on a loose-fitting pair of khaki cargo pants and an old Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers shirt that I got from their concert in '97. I figured it might would help to make conversation, since I suck so fuckin' bad with it anyway.

I found myself to be slightly more nervous than I had expected as I walked down the street to her house. Can't say it surprises me, though. I tend to let anxiety get the best of me most of the time. Nuttin' I can control.

My anxiety was put on hold momentarily, however, as I came closer to her house and examined a vast and eclectic amount of colorful yard art on display. She even had a bottle tree, and I had always thought those were neat lookin'. And it was obvious that she liked working in her garden, because she had a healthy abundance of different flowers all over the yard, some in brightly colored pots, and some hanging from her front porch. Maybe that's why she can't cook worth a damn, I wondered. Looks like she spends most of her time out here.

I tried my best to calm my spastic nerves as I knocked on the glass door. Resisting the urge to peek in, I turned around and looked off at the bottle tree again until I heard a click from behind.

"Well, hello Daryl Dixon! Long time, no see!" She beamed her piercing green eyes at me with a welcoming smile and I swallowed my apprehension.

"Just returnin' this to ya…" I handed the glass tray over to her and as a cool breeze blew through, sending the several wind chimes around us in a musical frenzy.

"I, uh, like your bottle tree." I pointed behind me with my right thumb and noticed the lavender flower pinned to her wavy hair. It matched her strapless, floor-length dress. Suddenly, I noticed the sleeves of colorful flower tattoos on each of her arms. I hadn't been able to see them yesterday when she was wearing a jacket.

"Oh, thanks. Isn't it cool?" She grinned, flashing her pearly whites against the red stain of her lips.

I nodded and scratched the bottom of my jaw, my anxiety slowly fading away.

"They're just as fun to make too. Only takes a case of beer and an eager kidney." She winked and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Hey, you wanna come in? I was just about to make dinner."

Oh, fuck.

"Maybe we can watch a movie or something."

"Er, no thanks. I need to be gettin' home. Got some laundry to do."

"You sure?" She made a half-frown with those full, red lips. Looking a little disappointed.

"Yeah…" I hesitated. "Thanks anyway." Damn, man. Grow a pair.

"Ok, well, I guess I'll see you around." She smiled at me before she turned around and closed the glass door behind her. I was able to see her head into the kitchen before I turned on my own two feet and headed down the steps.

As I walked into my own home, flipped on a couple lights, and took a seat in my recliner, the silence began to immediately overwhelm me and I started to second-guess my dumb ass decision. For some reason, I thought of Merle. I bet he'd kick my ass right now. "Pretty girl just asked you to hang out at her place and you say no? Have fun usin' your hand for the rest of your life, dipshit." That's exactly what he'd tell me.

I inhaled deeply and surprised my own damn self by standing on my two feet and walking back out the door, down the street, and right back up to her front porch where I tapped on the glass door once again until she appeared.

"So." I exhaled. "What we watchin'?"