I hear the sound of trash cans being knocked over. I roll over in my bed and ignore it, it's probably that damn raccoon that keeps coming back. I'll get him one of these days. I close my eyes and hear a voice yelling into the night. I check the clock on my alarm and groan, it's three in the morning and there's a crazy person on my lawn. I tell myself to go back to sleep, but I just can't get there. I hear glass breaking and throw the covers off of me.

I grab the flashlight off the table and the bat from under my bed and head out of my room. The house is quiet, but the guy outside is still yelling. I put on my flip flops and then tug open the door. Standing on my front lawn is Daryl. I drop the bat next to the door and walk out. He's at the edge of the lawn staring out across the way. He's definitely drunk, his body wavers and he stumbles a bit.

"People are trying to sleep over here Daryl!" I yell barreling down the step.

"Shut up woman," he yells turning around.

"I will not, now get inside the damn house!" I yell.

"You're not my mother," he yells.

"No shit!" I scream.

"Who's the one making noise now?" he questions.

I think I prefer the quiet Daryl over this one. He's loud, obnoxious, and almost exactly like his brother. I wonder where Merle is, I don't see his bike in the driveway. Daryl stumbles over in my direction. As he walks towards the light of my flashlight I notice his face and it looks worse than before. He's got a cut over his eye brow that's bleeding down the side of his face.

"Daryl please just come inside. You should probably put something..."

"I don't need a nurse," he yells out.

"I didn't say I wanted to be your nurse. You're belligerent when you're drunk," I tell him.

"As opposed to what? When I'm not drunk? You don't even know me," he yells.

"I know that your life must be a real shit show if you've come to work for my stepfather!"

"You know nothing!" he yells pointing his finger in my face. "You know nothing about my life!" he yells.

"And I could care less!" I shout back.

He's taller than me so I have to look up at him. He's standing over me with a fire in his eyes. I swear there is a red ring around the blue in his eyes. His stare is intense, I feel like if I wasn't a girl he probably would have pummeled me to the ground already. He moves in closer and our faces are only inches apart, I can literally feel his breath on my lips. A warm feeling spreads down my entire body.

"Then why the hell you out here for?" he questions.

"Because you are being loud and it's late and if someone hears..."

"Fuck your neighbors! They can't hear me from here." he yells.

He stumbles again and falls to his knees. He's laughing, but it almost sounds like he's crying. I shine the light in his face and he covers his eyes with his arm.

"Come inside before you make a scene," I say grabbing his arm.

He looks up at me and sits down in protest. I sigh and sit down next to him. I don't know why I'm still out here, I should just turn around and go back inside but I don't.

"You could have killed someone," I say softly.

"I didn't drive if that's what you're implying," he says lowering his voice as well.

His arm brushes mine and I shiver from the touch. I don't think he notices though because he's too drunk to care. He's looking off into the distance.

"Oh," I say looking back at the motorcycle.

"I've always wanted to drive one," I tell him.

"So?"

"Right I almost forgot who I was talking to for a second," I say.

He's about to say something, but winces and places a hand over his eye brow. He looks down at the blood now on his hands and his face pales. He turns in the other direction and vomits all over my lawn. Motherfucker! After he's done I tug on his arm again.

"C'mon let me help you," I say.

He grunts, but obeys. I tug at his wrist and his fingers glide gently down my arm, and our hands clasp together as we go inside. I stop for split second confused by the way my body is reacting to his touch, the warmth I felt a few minutes ago returns. As quick as it comes I erase the stupid thoughts from my mind. I pull him into the bathroom and make him sit on the toilet.

"We gotta stop meeting like this," he jokes.

I look at him. "Huh?"

"In the bathroom," he states.

I reach up in the medicine cabinet for some alcohol, cotton swabs and a band aid. I roll my eyes at his comment and wet a green wash cloth to wipe off his face. Standing over him I make him tilt his chin to look at me. His eyes are glassed over, he's so wasted it's crazy.

"You think that nose ring makes you look cool?" he asks.

I smack his arm and he chuckles. I try hard not to smile, but I can't help it. Gently I pat down his face with the cloth careful not to touch the cut. When his face is free of blood I go for the cotton balls.

"This is going to sting," I remind him.

"Whatever," he says.

I start to dab at the wound and he winces.

"Ouch woman take it easy," he says.

His eyes meet mine and for some reason my knees feel weak. Shit, what the hell is my brain thinking? I attempt to look away, but I'm pulled back into his blue eyes. Why couldn't he have hurt his knee or elbow? Would have made it easier so that I wouldn't have to see his annoying face.

He winces again as I press down and I laugh.

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing," I say.

"No tell me," he asks in his raspy voice.

"Your being a baby it doesn't hurt that much," I tell him.

He smiles, but I know it's all the alcohol in his system. I finish cleaning out the wound and start to rip open a band aid.

"You should have seen the other guy," he says.

I laugh and it comes out like a snort, and suddenly I'm embarrassed again. I place the band aid over his eye and throw out the bloody cotton ball sitting on the kitchen sink.

"There all fixed. Now I'm fucking exhausted and I have work in the morning so please go downstairs and sleep," I plead.

He stands up without a word and starts for the door. I start cleaning up the mess I made, as I clean I feel someone watching me. When I look up he's standing in the doorway staring.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing," he answers.