“Oh God.” Rip looked heavenward. “I gave you ideas, didn’t I?”
“Answer the question.” I grinned triumphantly.
“What?” He shoved his hands into his pockets like he was bored, but the corners of his lips twitched with a slight smile. “What would be more fun?”
“A game.”
“What kind of game?” He sounded about as enthusiastic as someone going in for a root canal.
“One where you have to find three of the most awkward items they sell at a grocery store—and put them in the cart.”
“Wait, so we have to actually purchase said items?” he asked, his eyes slightly widening.
“Yup!”
“Are we in high school?” He rolled his eyes.
“Hey, you’re the one who said Monica got you out of your shell—there was a reason I was her best friend.”
“Oh, and why’s that?”
“Because,” I whispered. Here went nothing. “I got her out of hers.”
He jerked his head up. His eyes locked on mine, and I could practically feel the tension leave his body. “I don’t know. We have to get Viera in a bit and check in on Ben, magically make good-tasting cupcakes out of air and water…”
“Rip.” I put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Live a little.”
I didn’t finish my thought.
I wanted to say, Live a little—because they no longer can.
Instead I let the unspoken words hang between us.
I didn’t need to say them. We both felt them daily. The fact that we were in the grocery store arguing, teasing, wondering how the hell we were going to make cupcakes. That wasn’t supposed to be our future. But it was our reality now, not theirs, and if doing something silly and immature helped Rip get out of the rut he was in and helped us bury the hatchet and live the way Monica and Brooks couldn’t, then I was all for it. I just needed my partner in crime.
I’d almost given up hope that he was going to say yes when he held out his hand and said, “If I win, you have to do bedtime prep.”
I grinned and took his hand in mine.
An electrical current passed between our palms, one so strong that I let out a little gasp as he squeezed, only to drop my hand seconds later like it was on fire.
He cleared his throat. “So how do we do this?”
I gave him a sly smile. “Ready. Set—”
“Wait, so I just grab stuff? What are the rules? We need rules.”
“No.” I grinned. “Sometimes you don’t need any rules. Meet up front in ten minutes.” I leaned in toward him and whispered, “Go.”
He took off with his cart like a car was chasing him.
I took off with mine with a burst of laughter followed by laser-like focus. Monica had been competitive, but I’d never really seen that side of Rip before. I suddenly needed to win at all costs as I sped down the dairy aisle, grabbing what I needed and double-checking the recipe on my phone before going toward the medicine section.
What would be awkward?
I mean, I had soy-free chocolate chips in my cart, a few random ingredients including this weird gluten-free, grain-free flour that probably tasted like death.
Our cupcakes better kick ass, since the stupid flour cost triple what normal flour cost. And was this even a thing? Could there be that many allergies in one class?