"I did have to walk around a whole ass night lookin' like I pissed my pants," Daryl insisted, his voice growing higher with each insistence that he wasn't lying or making this up.
"You did not!" Carol insisted. She couldn't completely keep from laughing. It had come up over dinner—just a random game, it seemed, of "do you remember" and Daryl had asked her if she remembered the night that they'd gone out and he'd had to walk around looking like he pissed his pants.
"I did. Had to try to play that shit cool and everything," Daryl said. "Don't you remember? At the movie theater? When you got so scared you dumped your drink all over me? We were watchin' that scary ass movie an' you didn't tell me you didn't like scary movies. That shit jumped out at you and the next thing I know; my lap was full of Dr. Pepper."
Carol laughed. Immediately, it all came flooding back to her.
"I forgot about that," she said. "But—you didn't have to walk around like that."
"I did! What the hell was I gonna do?"
"Oh—I forgot that," Carol said. "Daryl—why didn't you just say you wanted to go home and change?"
Daryl laughed and tossed the towel he'd been using to dry the dishes at the counter. He turned her around and kissed her, nipping her lip playfully.
"Because I'd rather the whole damn world think I pissed myself than give up an hour of walkin' the damn mall with you on my arm."
