Daddy's Girl

Chapter 14 - Just Friends

"What's the big fuckin' deal? What's so wrong with makin' friends?"

Negan's brazen whiskey-fueled notion had kept me tossing and turning in bed. I don't know why my mind even dared to bother with it. We couldn't possibly be friends. Could we? -Of course not. We couldn't even be in the same room without ripping each other to shreds. Whether that was by the throat or by our buttons depended on what chapter of our history. In all of which he had been the villain. The worst kind. Dreadfully gorgeous, dangerously persuasive, impossibly charismatic. He was the kind of monster that kept me up at night. But then again...

My life back home in LA was no fairytale either. It was a bland and mundane existence. No matter how meticulously I tried to paint the perfect picture, the dull, gray reality would always come to the surface. It too left me feeling restless but in a different way. At least here there was some sort of thrill. Something waiting around every corner to keep me on my toes. Benny, my husband to be, was reliable enough. Predictable at least. But when I looked into the deep brown of his eyes I didn't feel that rush in my belly. That feeling like if I looked into them too long I could fall into them. But Negan... -Shit, I could fall all the way into the depths of hell in those eyes.

***

I don't know when or how I managed to find sleep that night but when I finally woke from my restless and feverish dreams the evening's thunderstorm had passed. I was met by the bright and burning sun beaming through the window, searing my eyes tightly shut. The distant sound of bustling streets and honking traffic rattled my tender brain and reminded me that I was still in New York. That I'd flown across the country to subject myself to yet another disaster with Negan. And even though I hadn't been the one to end it on a drunken and stumbling tangent it seemed I was suffering a sort of hangover of my own. I burrowed my face back into my pillow with a tired moan and willed the daylight away. If it hadn't been for the front desk's wake-up call I might have drifted off again. Then just as I convinced myself to begin packing my bags to flee back to LA I received a text from an unknown and needn't be identified number.

"Coffee?" It read.

It was a simple question but I weighed and studied it as if it were an ancient riddle. I knew there was no simple answer and whatever I chose would be of some dire consequence. But the harder I thought the harder it was for me to make sense of it all. In the end, I figured coffee always was the best cure for a hangover. So as if preparing myself to leap off of a cliff, I took a deep breath and I called him.

"Where?" I asked suddenly as my heart raced in my chest.

"Uh... Hi." His tone suggested that maybe I'd caught him off guard for once. "Alright. How 'bout West 77th and Columbus? Let's say... An hour from now?"

"You better bring the strong stuff." I mumbled as I rummaged through my bags for a suitable outfit.

"I only drink the strong stuff." He attempted to make light of the night before.

"They have support groups for that." I jabbed before hanging up, hoping he felt worse than I did.

***

We were just two friends meeting for coffee. -Or at least that's what I kept reciting to myself on the way. No matter that I'd spent the better part of an hour choosing just the right outfit and primping my hair to perfection and now I was fifteen minutes late. No matter that I could feel the anxiety and pressure weighing on my chest. No matter that I'd spent most of the night crying over our inevitable fall out. I felt a small sense of security behind my oversized sunglasses though. Any evidence of puffy, reddened eyes was well enough hidden. If I kept my cool I could pull off this rendezvous without a hitch.