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Chapter 3 (Michonne)


"And then I say, that's not right, that's not how you know a boy likes you!"


"No, I don't think so either. No one wants their hair pulled just because a boy likes you. I would rather he just say he likes me." I reply to the ending of Maggie's story about some boy who likes her friend Tara, and pulled her hair.


"Tara's not even into boys like that, so he's wasting his time anyway. Ugh sometimes boys are so annoying!"


"Not all boys!" Beth pouts, as she stops slurping at her quickly melting ice cream cone. "I know a boy who's not annoying, and wouldn't pull anybody's hair."


"That's true, not all boys, Beth, you're right. And, you girls shouldn't expect that it's normal for a boy to hurt you in any way to get your attention, or show he likes you. It's not cool. Ok?"


"Got it!" They say in unison. Winking at them, noting how adorable they are with ice cream all over their faces, and clothes, I think I have an idea of who Beth is referring to when she says she knows a boy who doesn't pull hair. He's definitely not a boy, and from what I experienced two weeks ago at Hershel and Mom's wedding, he's not into pulling hair. At least not in the manner that Maggie is talking about.


"Beth, who is the boy you know that doesn't pull hair?" Maggie asks quizzically, echoing my unshared thoughts.


"Rick, duh! He would never pull a girl's hair, he's a cop! And he's cute. Right, Michonne?"


Tending to my own ice cream cone, I lick away a bit that's dropped on to my thumb. "He is a cop, and so you're right, he probably would not pull a girl's hair to let her know he's interested in her. Good point, Beth."


"And he's cute right, Michy?" Beth presses, noticing that I strategically did not answer that part of her question.


"Yeah, Michy, what do you think about Rick?" A deep voice with a heavy southern twang from behind me asks in an amused voice.


Giggling in her girlish way, Beth jumps up from her seat on the bench in front of the ice cream shop, and runs to Rick, who is apparently standing right behind me. Turning, my breath momentarily catches at the sight of him donning his deputy's uniform, hat, boots, and holster. Beth embraces him, leaving a sticky smudge from her ice cream covered face on the side of his shirt.


"Hey, Rick! Ugh, Beth you left ice cream on his shirt." Maggie complains on his behalf.


Dropping his head to check out his shirt, he laughs, and hugs Beth again, dismissing any concern over the stain. "That's alright, I'm about to get off duty anyway. You ladies enjoying yourselves?" He asks, cocking his head and now focusing those ridiculously blue eyes only on me, lowering his lengthy hazel eyelashes as he awaits an answer.


I didn't even know they made eyes that clear and blue, and it's throwing me off, again. When we met and danced at my mother's wedding a few weeks ago, those eyes completely knocked me on my ass then too. Especially given the way his navy colored suit hung so nicely on his lean, angular frame, setting off the lighter ocean blue of his eyes just right. Groomed well, his dark chestnut hair, with a sparse blend of a lighter butterscotch twined within, was just long enough for me to notice the slight curl to his locks. Brushed back from his high forehead, and tapered in the back and on the sides, he sported sideburns that were a tad too long for my taste, but his haircut framed his handsome face well, allowing the masculine prettiness of it to not be overwhelmed. Anchored by a straight aquiline nose, his face also includes a pair of lips that are a rosy pinkish color, giving off a sense that they must be soft to touch, sweet to taste.


I've never been that attracted to non-black men, it's just never been my thing, but there is something compelling about Rick Grimes. A touch of cockiness and confidence, mixed with country boy goodness and chivalry, and maybe even an underlying hint of naughtiness as well. All put together in such a sexy package, it all seems to be drawing me to him in a wholly unexpected way. Not to mention the manner in which he gallantly kissed my hand, or pulled me into his body to dance, his long fingers splayed along the small of my back, heating my core in an indecent way. Add to that the faint scent of his woodsy cologne, and he truly had me spellbound. So much so that I shamelessly allowed him to flirt with me, and I flirted right back. Going so far as to not only admit that I see something I like when I look at him, but to also give him a backwards glance as I was being led away by my boyfriend.


My boyfriend. Mike. The guy I have been seeing for some time now. The guy that everyone, including myself, has always assumed was my perfect match, my destiny. Last year I lost my virginity to Mike, I went to prom with Mike, I know his family, went to their family reunion last summer. It all adds up to a perfect picture. And normally I wouldn't question that, because Mike is good. Mike is the embodiment of everything that I think I want. He's handsome, tall, ambitious, smart, and he loves me. Even though he's never said he loves me, I know he does because everything about us together makes sense, and for Mike, an engineering student at Morehouse, logic is everything.


The only thing…and that's if I have to pick a thing, is his lack of passion. Excitement, lust, a thirst for something outside of the clear cut plan his family has laid out for him, and apparently for me as well. Undergrad, grad school, job, marriage, kids. The expectations are there and easy for us to follow for a successful outcome. That's how they talk about us. About life. As though you can create a blueprint for the unpredictability of life. That's how Mike talks about our future too. Like the path to a happy fulfilling life can be drafted as easy as one of his architect father's building plans. Or a computer program for a robot. If we put in the right codes, the program works, the building is constructed, the robot walks, life is good. But if not… Well Mike doesn't like if not scenarios, so we never even get there.


So, right now, witnessing the bow-legged strut of Rick Grimes, looking like the most delicious if not scenario I have ever seen, my programing is returning an error code that is telling me to not entertain this anomaly. And yet…


Realizing that I have drifted away from the conversation the girls are holding with Rick about summertime and ice cream, I drag my gaze away from my appreciative head to toe perusal of his tightly muscled form, and focus on how to get away from him before I do or say something I might regret.


"You girls ready to go? We need to get home soon and get to our chores before dinner." I remind, hoping it's a good enough excuse to explain the hasty exit I'm desperately trying to make.


"Alright. Let me walk you to your car then." Rick gestures his hand out towards the row of parked cars, waiting for the girls and I to lead the way. Allowing Maggie and Beth to walk in front of us, Rick hangs back with me, and places his hand firmly to the small of my back, guiding me to walk next to him, slowing down the quicker pace I was intent on setting to walk ahead with the girls. "Ya know, I've been meaning to stop out to the farm and talk with you, but it's been pretty busy at work lately. Working extra shifts to cover for a few guys who have been out sick."


"That's nice of you, to do that. To cover for someone."


"Yeah, I guess. It works out for me. I'm saving to buy a house, so the extra money is a good thing."


"Hm. So, what did you want to talk to me about?"


"A date. When are we going on a date?" Stopping at the driver's side door of my truck, Rick turns to me and places one hand on the roof, and the other lightly rests on his hip at his holster. Grinning at me, his eyes rove my face waiting on an answer.


There is a part of me, and I'm not going to lie, it's a big part, that wants to say we're going on a date tonight. I don't know why that part exists. Charming as hell, Rick Grimes is the worst kind of temptation. But the rational part of me, the part that belongs to Mike, the part that has a small belief that this attraction between us is some kind of 'Jungle Fever' fluke, kicks in and downgrades my wayward curiosity about him, and motivates me to do the right thing. At least I think it's the right thing.


"You're a nice guy, Rick. But, no date. Again, I have a boyfriend. You met him, remember? Tall, dark, handsome?" I slyly remind him, goading him a little with my description of Mike.


"I kind of remember someone, an unremarkable fella, interrupting our dance at your mother's wedding, but that's not important. What's important is that we get to know each other better. That you let me show you around. You're new around here, I can give you a deputy escorted tour of King County." Giving me that handsome smile of his again, he smoothly handles my reference to Mike, and keeps his concentration on the date that can never happen. "What do you say, pretty lady?"


Tempted by the smooth timbre of his voice, the flirty grin he's showcasing, and the way he has those tawny brown eyebrows quirked mischievously over those sexy blue eyes, I do pause momentarily. Sniffing out the partial weakening of my once adamant decline of his offer, he leans down, closer to my face. Licking his lips in that lazy, devil may care way of his, drawing my gaze to the wetness left behind on the plump crest of his bottom lip, he whispers in my ear, "You want to. Say yes."


Like a deer caught in headlights all I can do is stare straight ahead in a futile attempt to not give away how turned on I am, how badly I do want to say yes, to figure out what it is about this guy that has me nearly curious enough to actually follow his command, and say yes. For a moment we both just stand there, stock still. Him waiting for me to agree, and me waiting for the courage to step away from the attraction to this man that has me bolted to the ground where I stand.


Finally, a banging on the driver side window from Beth and Maggie shocks us both out of the electrically charged stupor we're rooted in.


"Oh my god! Are you guys going to kiss?!" Maggie hollers, while Beth grins like a Cheshire cat, stopping only to make kissy noises with her puckered lips.


"Oh lord," I grumble, instantly dropping my head into my upturned palm. "I have to go."


"Ok. Hey, Michonne," Rick drops down a bit, bending his knees to try and make eye contact with me. Taking a hold of my chin with his index finger and thumb to lift my gaze to his, he smiles and states with gravitas, and such an inordinate amount of bold, straight forward confidence that I have to believe him, "I'm not giving up just yet, pretty girl."


Standing up straight from his slight crouch, he raps his knuckles on the window then points at Maggie and Beth. "You girls be good and stay out of trouble!" Winking at them, he strolls away, and back towards his police cruiser.


Swiveling my head around slightly to watch, hoping that he doesn't catch me giving him another look, I bear witness to the sexiest, John Wayne like swagger I have ever seen a pair of brown uniform pants, and cowboy boots throw down. God help me.


With a deep inhale, and a staggered exhale I muster my wits about me enough to get into my Jeep.


"Are you and Rick dating?" Maggie asks. A gleeful delight dances in her green eyes, and across her smirking lips.


"Wait. What about Mike?" Beth leans forward from the backseat and asks, throwing her hands up in question.


"What? Who?" I ask, temporarily still in a daze.


"Exactly! Mike who? Michy is all about Rick now, Beth." Maggie exclaims, clapping her hands in delight. "This is so romantic!"


"Not a word of this to anybody. You guys hear me? Sisters' promise!" I declare, tossing my pinky out to each of them.


"Promise!" They echo in concert.




"I'm glad you finally decided to hang out with someone older than Maggie and Beth tonight, cuz." Shane tosses a pat to my back. A little rougher than expected, I jerk forward a little, throwing my hands to the dash of his Camaro to catch myself. He's driving way too fast for my taste on these narrow roads, so I'm already on edge.


Tossing him a sideways glance, I have to hold my tongue from fussing at him about his driving.


"Yep. It'll be cool to get away for a little while. So, where are we going?" Watching the darkened scenery whiz past the car windows, I have to admit that from what I have seen so far, King County really is beautiful, quiet, serene. I could see the allure for some. But, I'm a city girl, so it could probably never be my forever home, but every day that we live here, I gain a better appreciation for what is now peacefully anchoring my mother here. Well, besides her new husband and daughters. Things have gone so well with our merged families, that it almost seems unreal. But, as my mother reminded me as she watched me get dressed to go out with Shane tonight, if you make your mind up that something is going to work, and that you are willing to do what's needed to make it work, then it will. It's that kind of go get 'em, southern belle charm, and spunk that has gotten my mother and I through the toughest times one could imagine. And for that reason, I wholeheartedly believe in her words.


It's with these thoughts of my mother's can-do, tenacious attitude, that I'm led to thoughts of my earlier encounter with the beguiling Rick Grimes. Forgetting my stoic, unimpressed façade for a moment, I don't give Shane a chance to answer my question about our destination, and ask an unexpected follow up. "Is Rick going to be wherever we're going?"


Silent for a moment, Shane doesn't immediately respond. "Oh! I see now! You're liking ol' Ricky Dicky Grimes huh, cuz? Huh! He is a charming son of a bitch. Nah, I don't think he's gonna be out tonight. He's been working a couple double shifts lately."


"Oh. I was just wondering since I know you guys are friends. That's all. I have a boyfriend, so no, Rick Grimes is of no concern to me." I roll my eyes, a shallow attempt at disguising and submerging my blatant interest in seeing Rick again.


Giving me a sly grin and a wink as he masterfully pulls into the parking lot of a bar on the main strip in King County, he ignores my thin protests. "Whatever you say. Anyway, this bar is owned by some friends. Daryl Dixon and his old lady, Carol, own this place. Now, I can't let you drink, little cuz, but the food is good, the music will be loud, and the company will be entertaining!"


A little annoyed at his reaction, I quickly exit the car, and immediately begin straightening out my clothes. With no real expectation of what I'm going to find in this bar, and no clue as to where Shane was taking me, I threw on a of pair snug jeans, a halter top, and a new pair of chunky heeled-sandals I talked my mom into buying me on our last shopping trip, hoping that this outfit would suffice. With my hair freshly flat ironed, and parted down the middle, some eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss, I think I look pretty and prepared for a night out in the sticks.


"Enough primping, you're already cute. Let's get inside." Shane directs, nodding his head towards the door, and playfully grousing. Over the past few weeks I have gotten to hang out with him a few times, and Hershel was completely spot on with his assessment of Shane. He is a knucklehead, but legitimately I think he's a nice guy, with a big, loud personality. Once a high school football and baseball star, he's pretty much always been a big fish in a little pond, and as a result he's been unequivocally spoiled by the preferential treatment he's always received. From girls. And from everyone else who seems to either grudgingly tolerate his sometimes boorish behavior in lieu of an easily lost confrontation, admire his prowess, or pay him no mind. This becomes extremely evident when we cross the threshold of the bleak, smoky bar, and not even 30 seconds have passed before a blonde is draped on his side, and some guy is offering to get him a beer in thanks for letting him off with a warning on a recent speeding ticket.


Despite the overly affectionate girl at his side, that he promptly introduces as Andrea, Shane keeps me in his sights as we make our way through the crowd on the small square dance floor, and he makes sure we get settled in at the bar, front and center. Somewhat self-conscious at being the only black person in the room, and from feeling the curious glares of the patrons wondering at my presence, I'm more aware of my surroundings than usual. Shane, observes my minor discomfort, and attempts to ease my anxious fidgeting. Proclaiming to the approaching bartender, loud enough for most in the bar to hear over the blast of the country music playing speakers, that he'd like a beer, and a Coke for his cousin. With heavy emphasis on his and cousin, and a menacing stare-down sweep of the bar, he has effectively put everyone on notice that I'm not to be bothered. Though I like to think that at 18 going on 19, that I'm a tough city girl who can handle anything, this is new terrain for me to navigate, and my cousin'sguidance is extremely helpful and comforting.


"What are you doing here? I thought you said you were heading out of town?" Shane asks Andrea, his arm affectionately covering her shoulders.


"I am, but Lori wanted a last hurrah tonight before she heads to her Granny's in Macon tomorrow morning." Gesturing with her thumb over her shoulder, I slightly turn my head in that direction to see who Lori is. In a sea of grinding bodies and line dancers, it's impossible to pick out which of them is Lori, so I turn back towards the bar, accepting my drink from the bartender.


"Coke?" He asks, placing my drink down in front of me. "No Jack to go with it? No bourbon?" He rasps, a frown marring his face, which is already partially hidden behind strands of stringy brown hair. Sporting a leather biker vest, over a sleeveless shirt, he has just enough of a tough guy look to slightly intimidate me into thinking I shouldn't have wasted his time with my plain Coke.


"Leave her alone, Daryl. That's Hershel's new daughter. She's underage." A thin gray-haired woman reprimands him from behind, placing her hand lightly on his shoulder.


"New daughter? She's too old to be new." The guy named Daryl grunts, giving me the once over, and thankfully not focusing on the color difference between my step-father and I.


"Hush. Hi, I'm Carol and this scraggly grump is my husband Daryl. Your step-dad used to come here a lot after his first wife died. He got himself together though, and now we don't get to see so much of him anymore, but he's a real sweetheart." Offering me her hand for a friendly shake, Carol gives me a kind smile. "Here, you want some grenadine in your Coke? Spice it up a little?"


"Uh sure. So you say, my step-dad used to frequent your bar huh? Is that something my mother should worry about?"


"No!" Shane interrupts. "My uncle Hershel just went through a rough patch after his wife died. He's human, it happens. Don't be in here gossiping about my family, Carol."


"Hey! She can say what she wants in her own damn bar. You watch how you talk to my wife." Daryl warns from further down the bar, apparently still tuned in to the conversation at our end.


"Hi everybody! Guess who just walked in the door? Must be my lucky night after all!" Whirling at the loud, half shouted announcement, I find another woman now leaned over the back of Shane. A slight look of displeasure is covering Andrea's face, as she rolls her eyes, and looks away from the new addition to our group. Noticing me looking between her and Andrea, she attempts and fails a whispered question to Shane. "Who's the black chick?"


"Lori, this is my cousin Michonne. Michonne this is Lori." Shane introduces. Remembering that Andrea mentioned her before, I take quick note of her, but noticing nothing remarkable about the thin, brown haired woman clad in jeans, a tank top, and cowboy boots, I turn back to Carol who is still standing in front of me, waiting to finish our suspended conversation about Hershel.


"Oh. Hi." She sends my way. Turning back to Shane she asks directs another question his way. "Why is she black?" This time she doesn't even bother with a whisper.


"Shut up, Lori! What kind of question is that? Her mother married my uncle." Shane reprimands her. "That makes her my cousin. Don't be rude, damn! She don't mean nothing by that, Michonne." He apologizes, waving her off his back in an annoyed manner.


"This is her? The one that Rick was dancing with at the reception? Definitely not as pretty and much darker than I expected." She shrugs smugly after giving me a once over, then offers a tight inauthentic smile. "Humph. Come on, Andrea. I need to freshen up my makeup in the bathroom real quick." Walking off, she doesn't even wait for Andrea to answer or follow.


"Sorry. Sometimes she's just a real bitch." Andrea scoffs and hops off her barstool to follow Lori to the bathroom.


Her rude question, and fake smile are pissing me off, but I'm no hot head, not easily rattled. No one could ever accuse Michonne Kelly of not knowing how to defend herself, verbally or with hands, but even though this Lori chick is getting on my nerves, I would never allow her to see that she has gotten my emotions out of pocket. That's just not my way. I'm Andre Kelly's daughter. My temper is a slow burning, well-controlled, chemical reaction. One that no one wants to be on the receiving end of.


Resolving to ignore and avoid her for the rest of the night, I begin sipping from my drink.


"Hey listen, don't pay Lori any mind, ok? She's not a bad person. I'm sorry for what she said though, it was rude. You ok?" Shane looks over at me, trying to make eye contact with me, attempting to gauge my mood. But I would never let these people see me sweat, so I just give him a thumbs up and silently keep sipping my drink. "Shit! Look who's here!" Shane taps my arm to get my attention.


"Hey!"


Agitated by Lori's remarks, and Shane's attempts at apologizing on her behalf, I flinch at his nudge, but instantly perk up at the sound of Rick's voice.


"Hello." Pursing my lips to try and control my smile, not wanting to allow it to divulge how excited I actually am to see him again, I give him a small nod of my head to acknowledge his presence.


"I guess everyone is out on the town tonight. Daryl, get Rick a beer!" Shane hollers to the bartender.


"Guess so. Good to see you again, Michonne." Rick grins, taking a seat on the bar stool next to me.


"Same." God he smells good. He always seems to smell good. But not in a cheesy, trying too hard, may have bathed in half of the bottle kind of way. It's a light but heady mix of soap, maybe a dash of talc or aftershave, and him. Just Rick.


Doing that thing where he leans in to address me, greedily snatching and absorbing all of my attention, his eyes give my body a slow up and down gaze. "You look pretty, as usual."


Glowing, feeling my body warm at his heated stare, I squirm a bit in my seat, determined not to show how affected I am by him. "Thank you. You look nice as well."


"Thanks. So, you're hanging out with Shane tonight huh? You could do worse. But you could definitely do better." He laughs.


Catching his comment, Shane joins in the laughter, and the now jovial mood at the bar. "Damn! For real, Rick?"


"I'm just joking." Taking a hold of the cold, wet beer bottle set in front of him, he gives a slight up tilt of his head in thanks to the bartender. "Thanks, Daryl. What's up, man?"


"Same shit, different day. For the record, Shane brought his jail-bait cousin into my bar, but she ain't drinking nothing but Coke. I don't need you deputies trying to set me up to get my license taken." He says, a stern grimace on his face.


"That's good to know, Daryl." Rick responds, bouncing his attention between me and Daryl.


"I'm serious. After that fight that went down in here those few years back, we almost got shut down. I can't have no drama in here again. That goes for everybody. Maybe especially you, Rick, cause Lori's here, and she's already got her hackles up about Shane's pretty cousin over here."


"Lori's here?" Rick asks, the pleasant quirk of his lips immediately falls into a frown.


"Hey, Rick. Good to see you, baby." Lori returns from the bathroom, and wedges her frame in between Rick and I, effectively blocking us from each other's sight. Wrapping her arms tightly around him in a hug, that he stiffly accepts, I can see that she's trying too hard. Way too hard.


Removing her arms from around him, Rick gently places them back to her side, and leans around her to address me, "Sorry, Michonne." Turning back to her he grouses in a steely voice, "Lori, don't you see I was having a conversation here? You just barged in, that's rude. Don't disrespect her. You should apologize before you leave."


"Oh. I didn't realize you were talking to her. I thought you were talking to Daryl." She replies in a softer voice. "I haven't seen you in a while, we should catch up."


Already sick of her act, and not interested in waiting on an apology that probably wasn't coming, I get up from my stool. "Excuse me, gonna get some fresh air. I'll be right back." I direct towards Shane, and walk away from the bar, heading out of the door. Once I'm outside, the contrast of the swarthy Georgia heat, in comparison to the air conditioned bar, is a welcome shock to my body, causing a rush of goose bumps to break out on my arms.


Running my hands over my arms, I amble over to Shane's car and hop up on the trunk, needing to take a moment to gather myself. Pulling my phone from my purse, I call the one person who I can always depend on for a laugh, my cousin Sasha.


"Bitch."


"What's up, Sasha?"


"You still hanging out at the honky tonk with your new kin?" She asks, sarcasm in her words.


"Yeah. I'm ready to go though."


"Why? What happened?"


"Nothing really. Just this rude chick came in, saying stupid stuff. Doesn't matter, it's just not the same as hanging out with you and our friends. I miss you guys."


"Do I need to come out to the sticks and kick someone's ass for making my cousin sad? I will."


Barking out a loud chuckle I know that Sasha is serious. If I said yes, she would be here in her father's Mercedes in a minute, ready to fight. Sasha's father and my mother are twins. With Sasha and I being the only girls in a family full of boys, Sasha having 4 brothers, we pretty much stuck to each other growing up. We're even the same age, and born only a month apart. Basically we are more like sisters than cousins, and as such, I know that she always has my back, and I always have hers. It's how we were raised. And with a horde of boys to keep anyone from messing with us, one of whom, my cousin Tyreese, is a first baseman for the Atlanta Braves, we have never seen a situation we can't handle.


"You are a mess! No. I will see you at your party tomorrow night. Maybe I'll bring my new kin Shane with me. You would get a kick out of him."


"Michonne? Michonne?"


"Wait, who is that calling your name?"


"Michonne, why are you out here alone?" Rick walks from the door of the bar, and begins heading my way.


"Ok, whoever that is sounds sexy as hell. In a hillbilly kinda way though." Sasha asserts.


"Hush. That's him."


"Him, who?"


"The guy from the wedding. Look he's coming over here, let me call you back."


"Heffa, you better."


Hanging up the phone and placing it back into my purse, I look up to see Rick strutting the rest of the way through the parking lot over to me. My attention is drawn once again to the bow of his legs, now clad in a pair dark washed blue jeans, snugly fitting to his thighs. Once again, he's sporting his brown cowboy boots, but he's also wearing a white t-shirt that fits so snugly across the planes of his chest, that it's hard for me to avert my gaze to conceal the way I'm checking him out.


Making his way to where I'm perched on Shane's car, a look of worry wrinkling his forehead, he stands in front of me with his hands resting lightly on his lean hips.


"You shouldn't be out here alone. It's dark, this is a bar, guys have been drinking. Not a good idea, Michonne."


"I can handle myself, thanks though."


"I'm sure." Running his eyes over me, he's doing that thing again, that elevator, head to toe perusal of me. The look that sets me on fire every time. "Just looking out for you. That's what deputies do."


"Got it. Well maybe you should be more worried about looking out for your girlfriend in there?" I smugly point back towards the bar.


"I don't have a girlfriend. Lori is the past; you don't need to worry about her." He shakes his head. "Can I join you?"


"Sure."


Accompanying me on the trunk of Shane's Camaro, he's sitting so close that I can feel the hair on his veiny, tanned forearms tickling my own arms.


"I do want to apologize for Lori though. How rude she was to you. I guess she heard from my mother we were dancing at the wedding… She and I used to be together, and now we're not. I'm sorry for how she behaved."


"You don't have to apologize for your girlfriend. She's a big girl. She said what she said, and I'm sure she meant to be disrespectful. No problem."


"Why do you keep calling her my girlfriend? I just told you she's my past."


"She doesn't know that. At least not by the way she was all over you."


"That bother you, Michonne?" He asks, a smirk to those pretty pink lips of his.


"Nope. I could care less. I have a boyfriend, one that I claim. Remember? We've had this discussion before."


"Right. I've told you before, I'm not worried about him." Leaning forward, his hands clasped together hanging between his legs, his voice gets a softer tone to it. "Listen, I like you. I just want to get to know you better. Give me a chance to do that. You already admitted you like what you see."


"I think that would be disrespectful to Mike. Ya know, dating someone else while I'm dating him. Maybe they don't frown on that out here in King County, but in Atlanta that's cause for a fight."


"Fighting is never something I've had a problem with. Not for something I want." He tilts his head a bit, making direct eye contact with me, a hint of seriousness in the firm assertion of his words.


At a loss for a comeback of my own, I say nothing. I can't find words sufficient enough to address his comments. So I don't. I just let them hang there between us, riding the dynamic wave of attraction between us. With no words left to say, the hum of cicadas and katydids in the background, coupled with the inky blackness of the sky above, scattered through with a smattering of stars, this moment is near perfect in it's solemnity. Giving his words some thought, we are interrupted by Shane emerging from the bar.


"I knew Rick would find you, cuz. Let's get going, we can grab some dinner from the diner down the way, then head home. I'm gonna hook up with Andrea a little later on, so we are gonna cut this a little short. You don't mind do you?"


"Not at all. I'm ready to leave anyway." Ready to jump off the trunk of the car so we can leave, Rick hops down first. Coming to stand in front of me, between my legs, he places his hands around my waist and lifts me from the car. Gently, he places me on the ground, gifting me with the tiniest brush of a kiss to my cheek.


"Think about what I said." And with that, he nods his head to me, pats Shane on the back, then heads over to a blue pickup truck, which I assume is his.


Stuck in place for a moment, I'm only jolted into motion by the banging of Shane's large hands on the roof of his car. "Let's go, cuz! Shake a tail feather!"


Silently, I walk over to the passenger side of the car, legs wobbly, my head in a cloud, I can not shake this odd feeling of carefree, weightlessness, of falling. I'm instantly reminded of Alice in Wonderland, and her tumbling into the unknown, down the rabbit hole.




"Girl, he kissed me. Not kiss kiss, not on my lips. Not even like a full on kiss, like just a little peck…but man…"


"What? You got all kinds of hillbilly, Young and the Restless drama happening in the bar, and you're outside making out with the sheriff? King County is too much for me, girl!" Sasha teases.


"Shut up! He's not the damn sheriff, silly. He's a deputy. And girl, in that uniform… Oh my god!"


"Wait a minute, what about Mr. Perfect?" She asks, referring to Mike. Sasha and Mike don't get along the best. Her personality is too wild for him, too chaotic. And he's too structured for her, way too uptight. Basically she's no fan of his, and dare I say, maybe a little too excited at the prospect of me stepping out on him.


"I wouldn't cheat on Mike; you know I'm not like that. But… there's just something about this Rick guy. I can't call it, Sasha. I don't know what it is. And you know me, you know I have never been attracted to white boys. I leave that to you."


"Girl, I've been telling you, men are men. Lights go out, dick works the same way." Sasha offers on a naughty cackle.


"So I've heard. Hold on a sec, I have a text coming in."


"Who is it from? Mike?"


"Nope. I don't know this number. Hold on."


Unknown: Just wanted to make sure you got home safely, and let you know that you looked beautiful tonight


Michonne: Who is this?


Unknown: Rick


Michonne: How did you get my number?


Unknown: Shane


Michonne: Of course he would just give out my number without asking me first


Unknown: Don't blame him, I begged


Michonne: Did you now? I bet that was interesting… you don't seem like the begging kind


Unknown: I don't normally have to…but for you I will


Michonne: …


Unknown: Save my number in your phone


Michonne: Why would I do that?


Unknown: So you don't have to ask who it is when I contact you… I don't want you to forget me


Michonne: I don't think that could happen


"Michy, you got me on hold too long girl. I'm hanging up. Who are you texting?"


"It's him. It's Rick."


"Oh shit. Tell him to send a dick pic. We need to know what he's working with. Otherwise all of this flirting might just be a big ol waste of time."


"You don't need to know anything about his dick. I'll talk to you tomorrow, Sasha!"


"I noticed that you didn't deny that you do though. Night, Michy!"


Unknown: Confession… I wanted to kiss you tonight


Michonne: I don't even know what to say to that… you kinda did kiss me tho


Unknown: Not the way I wanted to… There is something about you Michonne… I can't stop thinking about you…


Michonne: …


Unknown: Have breakfast with me in the morning… please?


Michonne: I could eat


Unknown: I can feed you… see you at 8 AM


Michonne: I'll be ready


Unknown: Goodnight pretty girl


Michonne: …


At a complete loss for any more words, I end the text there, and do as he requested and save his number to my phone. My head feels like I'm doing something wrong, and its warring with the butterflies fluttering around the chambers of my heart. It keeps trying to send a warning signal to my heart that this is all against my programming. My heart is in charge right now though, and basking in and seizing at the indescribable sensation elicited from Rick's words. But, like he said, there is something about him, about this thing between us.


Alone in my room, I feel safe enough now to entertain the thought of him. Grinning at the very idea of getting to see him again in the morning, in just a few short hours, I lean over to the night stand and plug my phone into the charger. As soon as I lay down in the bed, and snuggle down into the covers, my phone lights up with another text message. Picking up my phone I see it's a message from Rick again. It's a link to a You Tube video of Donny Hathaway's "You Were Meant for Me". The song that we danced to at my mother and Hershel's wedding.


"Oh my god!" I whisper to myself, having to admit that not only is he cute, but he's also a romantic. Not wanting to tip my hand as to how affected I am by him not only remembering the song, but sending it to me, I don't respond to the text. Instead, I play the song a few more times, until eventually I drift off to sleep thinking only of Rick.












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