I was the loner.

Not very pretty, caught up in school work.

You know, the nerd.

But, what they didn't know, was that I was a biker. I was in a big bike gang called the Saviors. I loved to ride motorcycles. And I had a crush on the bad boy. Daryl Dixon. He was in a biker group called Alexandria, which was the Saviors' rival gang. Daryl was the MC's "vice president" biker and had angel wings on the back of his jacket vest. He always looked so serious and daring. His dark, long hair always hid his face and he was one of the few high school boys who actually liked their facial hair.

"Daryl!" It was Rick Grimes. I was walking to my bicycle out in the school's lot. Rick was scary. He was the big head honcho. Nobody messed with Rick. Except for Negan. He was the head biker for the Saviors. Those two fought all the time. Negan would always talk about "Lucille", which Negan had held over Daryl's head at that moment. A big bat with barbed wire wrapped around it. In what seemed like slow motion, Negan brought down "Lucille" over Daryl's head, blood running down his face and falling onto the grass. Daryl tried to duck the next shot, but luckily he didn't have to. I dropped my bag and ran towards the both of them, Rick staring in awe. I pulled my switch blade out of my boot and slashed at Negan, getting him in the face and arm. It only stalled him enough for Daryl to roll out of the way and Rick to come in and help. Negan swung at me with the bat and got me in the thigh. I winced and rolled away, bumping into Daryl. I took off my over shirt and held it to his head. It was a good day to wear a tank top.

"What are you doing?" Daryl snapped, not looking at me.

"I'm helping you. Deal with it." I snapped, equally frustrated. Negan was now knocked out and Rick was making his way over, unscathed. Daryl still refused to look at me but didn't pull away. I had his face cupped with one hand, the other wiping at the mess of blood. I pushed his hair back as I heard Rick talking to someone over the phone. Daryl's head was pretty banged up and I was pretty sure my thigh was no better, but Daryl was more important at the moment.

"Daryl, Michonne is on her way here, we'll get you looking better in no time, okay?" Rick then smiled at me and thanked me.

"No problem, guys." I replied weakly, starting to feel the pain in my leg. I could see that blood was flowing freely from the ripped part in my jeans and you could see some muscle and bone. I started to dry heave, trying my best to limp away from the boys.

"Hey! Are you okay?" Rick hollered. I didn't cry. I refused to. I simply nodded and continued to walk- well, try to walk- away. Rick sat Daryl down on a nearby bench and ran after me.

"I'm fine!" I shouted. He grabbed my shoulder and turned me, roughly. I cried out in pain from my leg being twisted around. As I started to collapse, Rick scooped me up and carried me to where Daryl was. Rick looked down at my leg and gasped.

"Your femoral artery is damaged and you are losing a lot off blood. Stay with me..I need you too look at me." It was dumb. He was talking me through this like I was a baby. My leg was cut, big deal. I started feeling tired, but Rick slapped my face, waking me back up. Daryl had taken his shirt off and Rick was tying it around my leg. I let my eyes roam over Daryl's body. He was fit, I knew that. There was just so much to look at. I realized that he had just returned my favor. We were even now. Damn.