Survival 101: With Vivian Bell

Chapter 12: Bike-Tastrophy

I made my way around the prison, in search of Daryl. I found him in front of the red gate that led to the parked cars. He was knelt beside of what looked like a Harley Davidson; then again what the heck did I know?

I approached him from the side, watching the way he had one arm braced on the leather seat of the bike, the other meddling somewhere near the wheel of the vehicle.

"Hey—I mean yo, or whatever." I greeted trying to seem as nonchalant as possible, even though I was a nervous wreck inside. I really should have thought this through, what the hell am I even going to say to him?

Daryl gave a lazy glance my way, a few strands of his dark hair had fallen over his usual squinted eyes.

"Mornin'." He grumbled. Shit, even his voice was giving me the shivers, what the hell is wrong with my body? I averted my gaze to the open metal tool box beside him on the floor, filled with gadgets and bolts that I did not recognize.

"What are you up to over there?" I asked curiously, reaching out and allowing my finger tips to graze one handle of the bike. I've never ridden a Harley before though the idea always intrigued me.

"The bike's been actin' funny, thought I'd check it out, in case it becomes a hazard later." Daryl grumbled, steady with one hand on the bike. He looked to me and gave a slight bob of his head "Pass the ranch will ya?"

I was a little confused, I knew he was gesturing to one of the various tools in the box but he didn't really point out which one. I looked to him again, to find he was far immersed in the bike to care to mention it again. I didn't want to seem like a complete idiot so I bent over and picked up a plastic, orange coloured handle with a long steel rod attached to the end of it.

Daryl averted his attention from the bike just as I handed the object to him. He slowly grasped it before looking up at me with strained eyes full of question.

"That's the screw driver." He stated factually though the corner of his mouth curved in amusement. I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms across my chest.

"Well you weren't being specific."

"Da hell, usin' da proper term was me bein' specific" He clipped out glaring up at me. He reached out and hooked one finger onto the edge of the metal box and pulled it to his side. I watched as he dragged out a strange steel rod with ends that reminded me of a crab's claw "Jaysus woman, haven't ya ever seen a tool kit befor'?"

"Yeah, this is the face of a woman who's seen and used tools." I retorted pointing at myself and Daryl dead-panned then snorted before getting back to his task.

I tried not to allow myself to be distracted by his flexing biceps but my God, it was just too hard. I was keenly aware of a lone bead of sweat tricking down his sun-kissed arm, curving along the sinuous lines of his strong arm.

I cleared my throat, my mouth felt dry and empty. I leaned against the head of the bike.

"How long you had this ride any—"The support behind me gave way and I was abruptly struggling to stay up right. I clumsily attempted to be in balance which resulted in the tangling of my limbs. I yelped when my I tripped and fell back, my rear made contact with the concrete in unison to the loud rattling of Daryl's bike on to the hard surface beside me.

"DA HELL." The hick exclaimed in outrage, I watched in disbelief as Daryl shot up and stared with clenched fists.

"Oh no don't mind me, just a scrapped elbow." I grumbled sarcastically from my position on the floor. The astonishment in his expression vanished the instant I had spoken. I was a little caught off guard by the heated, kill-you-dead glare he shot my way.