"A little help, Molls," Daryl called back, balancing precariously on the limb of the old oak at the side of our house. "Fuck," he grunted, one arm gripping the windowsill and the other clinging to the branch. "Climbing through your window was a helluva lot easier when we were kids."

"That's because I lived in a one-level when we were kids and this is a two-story," I replied flatly before quickly yanking the curtains closed. "Go home."

"Wait, wait, wait – don't go!" he urged. "I need to talk to you."

"No thank you," I called back, climbing back into bed.

"Please?"

"Goodnight, Daryl," I bit out, snuggling under the covers.

"Come on, Molly-Dolly. Don't leave me hanging out here – literally."

Tensing, I kicked my legs under the covers and growled, "I told you not to call me that, doofus!"

"Please?"

I shook my head.

"Please… I think I'm gonna fall here."

"Goddammit!" Deciding not to be a total bitch, I climbed out of bed and stalked back to the window. "Fine." Unhooking the lock, I pushed my window up and leaned out. "You can come in, but only to use the staircase." Narrowing my eyes, I added, "Can't have the Academy's homecoming king break a nail before his big night," before stepping aside for him to enter.

"Whoa," he breathed, climbing through the window. "That was pretty catty."

"Yeah, well, I'm in a pretty catty mood," I shot back, returning to my bed. I didn't bother turning to face him. Instead, I climbed back under the covers, grabbed the remote, and un-paused my movie. "You know where the door is."

Instead of leaving like I had asked, Daryl walked over to my bed and sat down. "You know, I practiced what I was going to say to you all the way over here in my truck." Rolling his shoulders, he smoothed his hand over his jean-clad knee. "It was easier to get the words out when I was talking to the hypothetical version of you."

My chest ached from his words, but I was already bone weary from licking my Daryl King inflicted wounds. "I've got nothing left in me tonight, D."

"Fine. I'll talk. You can listen," he said, reaching over and placing his big hand on mine. "I don't regret what happened that night. You need to know that." He blew out a frustrated breath. "The way I acted earlier? Being a total fucking asshole? Well, it had nothing to do with us having sex –"

"Oh my god, can you please not?" I squeezed out, feeling a wave of humiliation course through me. I yanked my hand away from his, ignoring the jolt of electricity that raced through me from the contact. "It's embarrassing enough knowing that it happened without having this horribly awkward conversation."

He rolled his eyes. "We need to talk about this."

Stiffening, I shook my head. "No. We don't. The time for talking was days ago. Hell, it was this afternoon when I knocked on your door. Not here. Not now."