So, this idea randomly popped into my head at 2:30 this morning and I had to type it down. This is my first Caryl story and it's kind of an Highschool AU. I'm not the greatest writer, so please be nice and I hope some of you will enjoy!

So, I am in the process of completely rewriting this story and so far this chapter is the only one that's been rewritten. I will tell you in the beginning of each chapter, if it has been redone!

Enjoy! :D

Chapter One

Senior Year

Carol knew that she wasn't cut out for ceramics (or any type of art for that matter) the moment her hands touched the damp, sleek clay. No matter how hard she willed to shape it into something it would fall apart and plop noisily on the black table top.

Finally, she had enough and called over to her best friend, who was sitting a few seats down. Unfortunately, they had assigned seats in this class. "Daryl, I need your help!" Daryl had been her best friend since seventh grade and was way more creative than she.

"What do you want?" In a matter of seconds, he had appeared at her side. His hands were covered in the gray clay and even had a smudge underneath his left eye.

"I'm trying to make a snake." She held up the lopsided coil, which looked more like just a lump of clay. "See?" To her dismay half of the coil fell to the table with a 'splat'. Carol scowled at it before dropping the rest of the clay.

"Jesus, how did you manage to fuck up a snake? That's the easiest damn thing to make!" Smashing the sad looking coil together on the table, he began to roll it out evenly. Making it look easy.

Carol crossed her arms. "Well, aren't you quite the artist, Michelangelo," she huffed, jealous of the ease he had with the clay. How come she couldn't make it do what she wanted?

Daryl didn't look up at her and snorted at the name. "Why the-" He stopped when he saw their art teacher pass their table and admired some of the other students' work. Once he passed, Daryl continued, "Why the fuck are you making a snake? Don't they scare the shit out of you?" Carol's face burned. She hated snakes. "How come you ain't makin' a butterfly or some other girly shit, like that?"

She nudged him in the side at his language when their art teacher started looking at them suspiciously. It wasn't that she minded his cursing, but the last thing she needed, or wanted, right now was for Daryl to get sent to the principal's office, again, while she still needed help with her project.

"There you go." Daryl presented her with a perfectly rolled coil with a smug grin. "Do you want me to do the face, too? Or do you think you can manage?" The grin still remained in place when he looked at her.

"No," she glared at him. "I got it." Picking up one of the metal tools by her side, she carefully placed two perfect dots for the eyes. Straightening a little bit, she felt proud of herself. Now, on to the mouth...

"So," Daryl pulled up a stool and settled in, clearly not in a hurry to get back to his project or his assigned seat. Carol didn't mind, though. She loved talking with Daryl. They wouldn't be such good friends if she didn't. "Why a snake? You hate them." It was obvious he wasn't letting that go.

With a defeated sigh, she answered, "I was making it for you." She had hoped to keep it a secret and present it to him when it was completely finished, glazed and all. Of course, he had to go and ruin it. He was too damn observant.

"Me?" He looked surprised and Carol knew it was because no one had really ever made anything for him before. "But why a snake?"

"I don't know!" She cried, which earned her a few odd looks from her classmates but she ignored them and continued on a little quieter. "You like to hunt and I figured you've come across a snake or two." She shrugged and turned from him. "Plus, a squirrel is too damn hard to make."

Daryl chuckled at her, then. He didn't laugh very often, but Carol loved the sound of it and wished he would. "Well, then, that's the nicest clay snake I've ever seen." His cobalt eyes twinkled slightly when they looked at her and she felt her face heat up. Recently, she had found herself blushing more and more around him and it started to worry her. She didn't even want to think about what it might mean.

Quickly, she looked away and focused all of her attention on her project, hoping that he hadn't seen her flaming cheeks. "So, what are you making?" She needed to get the attention off of herself.

Daryl's demeanor changed and the smile disappeared. "Nothin'," he replied. From the corner of her eye, she could see that his gaze went down to his hands and his ears were tinged red. Carol knew that he was lying and clearly embarrassed about something.

"Come on," she said and bumped his leg with her own. "You got to see the disaster I was making. It's only fair if you tell me what you're working on."

He turned from her and mumbled, "It's a flower."

"What?" She couldn't have heard him right. Had Daryl just said he was making a flower? Daryl Dixon did not do flowers, let alone make them out of clay. She must not have heard him right.

"I said, I was makin' a flower," he growled, but there was no menace behind it. Daryl could be gruff, but he was never mean to her.

"What kind of flower?" She asked, softly. There had to be a reason why he was making one and she wanted to know.

Still embarrassed by the conversation, Daryl kept his gaze down. "A Cherokee Rose."

"That sounds pretty. What does it look like?" After his description, Carol knew she would keep a lookout for them the next time Daryl took her out in the woods. She often picked wildflowers and such for a vase back at home, but not once had she picked a Cherokee Rose or that she knew of, anyway.

"You'll see when I'm finished." The corner of his mouth turned up in what she knew was a smile. "Was makin' it for you."

"Really?" Carol willed her heart to stop beating so fast. Daryl was her best friend and it was normal for him to make something for her that he knew she liked. Just like she was doing with the snake.

"Yep." Finally, he began to angle his body towards hers. "You know, there's a story about them. My mama told me it before she died."

"About Cherokee Roses?" When he nodded, she smiled, placed her elbow on the table and held her chin in a hand. "Tell me."

Thanks for reading!