Sunny Days

Chapter 2

Left alone with her thoughts, Sunny gathered things to start dinner and got to work. She could hear the tv on and Negan chuckling in the living room.

Ok, Sunny, you seriously need to get a grip. Just because a tall, dark, handsome, man has entered the picture doesn't mean you get to swoon. Let's think about this. He's a stranger, cusses like—what's worse than a sailor--, and he has a big ol' baseball bat with barbed wire. All of those things are red flags. How would you feel if he wasn't good-looking? Like dad's creepy friend Ed. What if he was Ed? Omg. This has all the makings of a horror movie slash after-school special. If he wasn't good-looking, I would have tried to get him to leave or protected myself. God, you're shallow....and desperate and lonely. It's been 2 years, of course, you're lonely. Ugh, I've been blinded by dimples. Damnit. What do I do? I'll just have to try and keep some distance and convince him that I'm fine. He doesn't need to stay. Maybe I can reason with him. Oh, please, you can't even reason with yourself.

Boiled noodles, simmered canned tomato sauce with added spices, bread she had baked yesterday, and some canned green beans. Not fancy. But filling. She plated the meals and carried them out to the dining room adjacent to the living room. She was not ready for what she saw.

Negan looked over the back of the couch at her and gave her a dazzling smile, his hazel eyes twinkling with amusement. Her stomach clenched. She felt winded. No swooning, indeed.

"Out of all the action movies my dad has, you chose to watch my mom's Golden Girls DVDs?" Sunny laughed.

"4 silver foxes and a shit ton of sex jokes, hell fucking yeah, I chose this. The world is one big fucking action movie nowadays. Comedy...that shit's hard to come by."

"I guess that makes sense. Dinner's ready."

"Smells good, doll."

Making his way to the table, he pulled off his gloves and gave her a wink that made her knees weak. They sat opposite each other and began to eat.

"So, Dorothy?" Negan guessed.

"No," she held up her hand as his mouth opened again, "and I'm not any of the other Golden Girls either," she laughed.

"Rachel?"

"Nope. Not Phoebe or Monica either."

"Damn. Just tell me your name. I've got to know," he playfully demanded.

"Nope," Sunny smiled as his grin turned to a frown.

Negan gave a small moan as he bit into the bread, "This bread is de-fucking-licious. The people in my kitchens don't know what the fuck they're doing."

"My parents taught me to cook at a young age. You should see what I can do with a fully stocked kitchen."

"You're damn lucky they did. Most people have no fucking survival skills and are barely making it."

"I can't imagine what it's like out there. What's it like where you live?"

"It's fucking big and safe. Which is damn hard to come by. It's not for pussies. Everybody fucking works. There are fucking rules and consequences when those are broken. But it keeps what we have fucking going."

"Well, that was a long yet vague answer," she leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed.

"Tell me your name and I'll tell you more," he shifted over his plate placing his elbows on the table setting his chin on his fists.

"Pass. Get your elbows off the table," she stood to gather their now empty plates.

His eyebrows raised, his hand circled her wrist, "What did I say about giving me orders?"