My Kind of Crazy - Robin Reul Page 0,50

or so, I don’t know when I’ll get to see her again without Nick. It feels good to talk to her. “I heard a really messed-up joke the other day you might appreciate.”

“Hit me.”

“What kind of car does a pyromaniac drive?”

She pockets the lighter and a pack of watermelon gum that she did not pay for. “No clue.”

“A Blazer.”

Peyton laughs as another customer starts unloading her groceries onto the conveyor belt behind her.

“Thanks for the present.”

“You’re welcome. What time are you done here tonight?”

“Ten thirty.”

She smirks. “Well, can I meet you after work, then? I want to watch your face when you open it.”

“Yeah, sure,” I say and smile, already looking forward to seeing her again.

“See you later,” she says as I greet the next customer and start to scan her groceries. I turn back toward the exit to wave at Peyton, but she’s already gone.

The next three hours pass excruciatingly slowly, and at the strike of ten thirty, I’m outta there like a shot. Peyton’s waiting by my bike with a huge smile on her face.

I tear away the newspaper wrapping, and there in my hands, wrapped in a protective plastic sleeve, is Marvel issue #48 of the Fantastic Four: “The Coming of Galactus!” What the…?

“Holy shit…” I carefully remove the comic and flip through the pages. When I can pick my jaw off the asphalt, I tell her, “Thank you. This is amazing. Where did you get this?”

“At that comic book store you took me to,” she says. “You like?”

“I can’t believe you bought this for me.”

The question is: How did she buy this for me? Where the hell did she get that kind of money?

I know I can’t accept such a generous gift from her, no matter how badly I want to. It wouldn’t be right.

Would it?

“Well, believe it. It’s yours now. It showed up in that store for a reason,” she says. She’s so genuinely happy that she’s practically glowing.

“Does Nick know about this?” I’m annoyed that Peyton’s given me this amazing present and that I have to worry about how Nick will react. She and I were friends before she met him. Maybe I’m a prick for feeling that way, but it’s the truth. Peyton is the first person who’s actually made me feel good about myself in a long time. She’s probably the best friend I’ve ever had, and I’m not willing to give that up just because Nick decides he wants to put sour cream on her burrito.

Her smile cools as she says, “What does Nick have to do with this?”

“You guys are dating, right? I mean, isn’t it weird to give some other guy a present? Not that I’m complaining. This is possibly the coolest thing anyone has ever done for me in my entire life.”

The glow returns. “Friends give each other presents all the time and it’s no big deal. This has nothing to do with Nick. This is between you and me.”

I am overwhelmed. “I can’t let you spend that kind of money on me, Peyton. Let me pay you back. I can’t get it to you all at once, but I can pay you in installments or something.”

“It’s fine, Hank. Seriously. The look on your face when Victor showed you the comic? I knew I had to get it for you.” She smiles. “I’d never seen you so excited. I just wanted to see you that happy again.”

“Yeah, well, like I said, nobody’s ever done anything like that for me before. So…thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She leans in and hugs me. She smells good, like laundry detergent. I probably smell like sweat and V8. Not a great combo.

“I wish I could show this to my brother. Jesus, Mickey would flip out that I saw, let alone got, a copy of that issue.”

“I wish I could have met him,” she says.

“He was a cool guy.”

We start to walk in the general direction of Peyton’s house—me pushing my bike and her carrying my backpack draped over one shoulder.

“You said he and your mom died in a car accident, right?”

“Yeah, when I was twelve.”

“Wow, that must have been rough, especially since you two were close. It’s lucky you weren’t in the car with them.”

“Actually, I was.” I can feel my hands start to shake. I’ve never talked about what happened that day. It’s just too personal and painful and confusing. I worry that she might think less of me, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take. I’ve never felt a connection to someone

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