QUOTE : What am I busy doing at lunch?” I asked. “Did you want to go pick out some more paint? Because I thought you were still working on the GTO and the SS.”<br /><br />“No,” he answered, not moving an inch, but instead, just watching me. “I brought you fucking lunch.”<br /><br />He brought me—did he just say lunch?<br /><br />“There’s a thing in the fridge with your name on it,” Rip kept going, watching me steadily. “I could use your help later if you’ve got time.”<br /><br />All I heard was something about him needing my help if I had time, but what I really focused on was the container in the fridge with my name on it.<br /><br />“Come get me if you do,” he said, taking a step back like he hadn’t just surprised the crap out of me.<br /><br />But I could still get a few thoughts together, at least enough to call out, “What am I going to be doing tomorrow?”<br /><br />He was still walking backward as he told me, “I’m bringing you lunch tomorrow too.”<br /><br />What was happening?<br /><br />What was happening?<br /><br />“You don’t have to bribe me to be your friend! I’ve been waiting for this for years, Rip,” I hollered after him, ignoring the way my stomach had just felt like we’d started a descent from a steep roller-coaster ride.<br /><br />I’d swear I heard a chuckle as he answered, “Get to fucking work and come get me if you’ve got time to help me out.”<br /><br />We were friends.<br /><br />We were.<br /><br />Favor or not, you didn’t bring someone food who you weren’t fond of.<br /><br />I really didn’t want to smile, but I couldn’t freaking help it as he walked back out of the room.