Call it chance. Or maybe bad luck. Or just terrible timing— that I would just be walking past the door of the kitchen as Daryl was finishing his search of the pantry.
He turned, mumbling something under his breath as he rifled through the neighboring cabinets. He was looking for… something.
Aggressively.
Maybe if I just return from the direction that I came— quietly— I can make my escape without…
"Hey!"
Shit.
"You know where my jar of peanut butter is?"
I do my best to look inconspicuous. I give him a subtle shrug, shaking my head.
"What peanut butter?"
He's already going through another cabinet.
"I had a jar of peanut butter stashed in there," he nods back towards the pantry. "An'now its gone."
Would it be wrong of me to help him look for it?
I glance nervously at the trash can. He obviously hasn't checked there yet.
He closes the last cabinet, turning towards me. He's got his hands on his hips now, chewing on his bottom lip and his eyes scan every corner of the kitchen.
"I don't know? Maybe Carol used it for cookies?"
I'm a terrible person.
"Nah. She ain't made any cookies."
I damn near see the lightbulb appear over his head. His eyes lock onto the trash can. And he's beside it before I even have a chance to register that he's moving.
I see the muscles in his jaw working as he clenches and unclenches his teeth.
Shit.
He reaches in and pulls something from the trash.
Well, notsomething….I already know what it is.
It's the goddamn peanut butter jar that I should've thrown over the fence. Or burned.
He unscrews the top and looks down into the jar.
Which I feel is just him being dramatic at this point, because you can clearly see that the jar is empty without having to open it.
But I don't think this is exactly the right time to tell him that.
His eyes jerk up to mine. And I can tell by the look in them he knows.
I purse my lips, and advert my eyes. "I don't know. Maybe you ate it and just don't remember." When I look back at him, his eyes are narrowed.
"This was full yesterday." He shakes the jar for emphasis.
If I tell him it wasn't, then I'll just be incriminating myself. And If I tell him that I just so happened to come in after Judith and Carl had already wiped out two thirds of the jar before passing it off to me, then I'd be incriminating all of us.
"I don't…" I start, but he cuts me off.
"Youate it." He stands upright, his eyes still narrowed.
"You're imagining things." I scoff, though I'm sure that the flush creeping up my neck has already made its way to my ears.
"Nah… you got that look on your face." His eyes are more narrow now, but I can still see the glint of amusement in them.
Damn him.
My mouth opens and closes a few times as I try to formulate some type of cohesive excuse, but now he's taken a slow step towards me. Then another.
I feel my fight or flight response beginning to tingle up the back of my neck. And instead of words, all that escapes is a nervous laugh.
My feet are moving before it even becomes a conscious decision to make a run for it.
Guess it's a flight kind of day.
I reach the bottom of the stairs before I realize I hear his heavy footsteps bounding behind me. He's closing in on me.
My feet never make it past the fourth step.
His arms wrap around me and I'm over his shoulder before I can even get out a protest between fits of laughter.
He's never going to let me live this down.