could spend a huge chunk of break just doing this, especially if I got my cast off.
“There you are,” Rachel snapped at me, and I nearly fell over as adrenaline flooded my system.
“Holy shit,” I said, glaring at her.
“I couldn’t see you,” she snarled, glaring right back. “I told you to stay where I could see you. There are too many people in here, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
And my irritation dried right up. “Sorry, I just…” I motioned to the guitar. “I was looking for stuff for the guys.”
Her own expression softened, and she squatted down next to me. “Bubba?”
I nodded. “And then regular ones for the other guys and some music based games. Maybe drums and something else to do the whole band effect.”
“Aww, you could have your very own boy band,” she crooned, and I tipped my head back and stared at the ceiling.
“Yep, my own boy band, and I’ll be their personal groupie.”
“Pfft, you’ll be the lead singer, and they can be your backup boys.” She elbowed me and then handed me the two huge bags she’d been lugging. “Do you want to get this now?”
“What—you didn’t have anything when you got in line!” I stared at the big bags.
“I know,” she told me smugly. “I had them pull my stuff ahead of time because it’s a zoo in here. Come on, what am I carrying?”
I pointed out the different pieces and she stacked them up, and then we snagged three different games and a couple of spare controllers for when the guys broke something. Because boys.
Back in line, I bumped Rachel with my hip as she stood uncomplainingly with all my crap. “Thank you.”
“Yep,” she said. “But you can buy the pretzels.”
Oh. Pretzels. “Deal.”
My bank account wept after I paid for all of it. So much for the money I’d made this week, but at least I had the job, and now I had something fun to go with the kind of goofy gifts I’d gotten them.
We made our way out to the big fountain where Rachel set me up with our stuff, and even though I was supposed to pay for the pretzels, she went and got them. When she was back and we were both getting cinnamon all over ourselves eating the oversized hot pretzels, I asked, “What do you want for Christmas?”
“Nothing,” she told me. “Or whatever you want to get me. I’m not picky.”
I groaned. “I need a little more than that. I could get you a book of poetry…” She made a buzzer noise like we were on a game show.
“Strike one,” she teased, then took a bite of her pretzel and eyed me.
The problem with Rachel was she really didn’t talk about herself. I chewed my own pretzel as I sifted through various memories. Music was a given, but we liked a lot of the same things, and she had an almost exclusively digital collection. We didn’t always buy whole albums, just the songs we wanted. Books were the same way, and books could be cool presents.
Hmm.
A flicker of a memory tickled the back of my mind, and I grinned. “I have an idea.”
“What would that be?” Rachel eyed me curiously.
“Not saying,” I said with a grin. “But I think what I have in mind will work.”
Rachel liked art. Sketches. Painting. Crafts. But it wasn’t something she advertised. She used to be really good at it.
“Fine, then I won’t tell you what I got you either.” Her smug little grin just made me laugh.
“You know you don’t have to get me anything.”
She mimed her fingers talking. “Your mouth is doing this. But I’m not listening. Now, you up for more shopping, or do I need to take you back to your boys?”
I eyed the stacks of bags around us, then stared at her. “How much more shopping do you have?”
“I have eighteen cousins,” she told me with a straight face.
Holy shit.
“Exactly.”
“More shopping it is.”
We actually made a side trip out to her car to drop off the first round of stuff. Then a second round. Somehow, I got shanghaied into trying some stuff on, including snow jackets—why did they sell those in Texas?—and a snow suit because I was the same size as her cousin. I had to admit, the outfits were cute. By the time we finished, the mall was closing and the guys were blowing up my phone. Rachel cackled as she sent them a text, and I stared at her.