Page 63 of All Your Dreams

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, waving his hand in dismissal. “Let us spoil the little princess for a while.”

Peyton laughs and grabs her bag from the side table in the hallway. She’s dressed in a maxi skirt and a loose lace top, her long hair down in soft waves. I admire her and Eli watches us with a knowing expression that makes me want to shove him.

“Have fun, kids,” he says too innocently.

Peyton’s cheeks pinken. “Bye, Eli.”

When she’s out of the door, my friend stops me as I’m ready to go. “Be smart and don’t let your dick outrun your brain.”

I roll my eyes. “I hate that you think so little of me.”

“It’s called experience.”

“Love you too,” I say and flip him off on my way out.

Comfortably Numb Records, the record shop I love to visit, is a ten minute walk away, located between a deli and a small indie bookstore. Peyton slows as we approach, eyes scanning the window display with handwritten staff recommendation cards, faded concert flyers and a crooked neon sign blinking. “Okay, I feel like I just walked into your brain. You somehow managed to find the most Ollie-coded place in Brooklyn.”

I feel oddly light from the comment, the tension in my shoulders easing as my skin starts buzzing. Being understood by her is becoming dangerous in ways I’m not ready for. Most people only see tattoos, the garage and the loud music. But this place? This is the soft underbelly.

“Wait until you see the inside,” I say and open the door for her.

A bell chimes as we step in. The comforting smell hits immediately—a combination of vinyl, old paper and dust. The shop is lined with shelves that stretch from the floor to the ceiling. Posters cover the empty spots. A soft rock song plays from speakers, someone quietly singing along to the music further in the shop.

Behind the counter, Judah, an older guy with a gray beard and a band tee, nods at me in recognition. “Ollie, haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Life happened,” I reply, then gesture between him and Peyton. “Peyton, meet Judah, one of the folks working here.”

She smiles politely. “Hi. Ollie has talked this place up so much I was starting to think it was fictional. But honestly? I already love the vibe.”

Judah grins knowingly like the shop tends to have that effect on people. “It’s good to have another music lover coming through the doors.”

Her eyes travel up the shelves behind Judah, lingering on the rows stacked to the ceiling. “Wow. This place is packed.”

“That’s one word for it. If you need anything, give me a shout.”

We move deeper into the shop, fingers hovering over album covers as we stroll from one spot to another. Peyton crouches by a crate labeled Indie and starts flipping through, concentration evident on her beautiful face. The sleeves slide against each other with that soft papery sound.

“You look so serious,” I tease.

“I’m hunting for hidden treasures,” she replies without looking up.

Her hair falls forward over one shoulder and I have to physically stop myself from reaching out to tuck it behind her ear. “So what exactly qualifies as a hidden treasure?” I ask instead.

“An item you didn’t know you needed until you find it.”

Her answer settles strangely deep in my bones. Maybe because that’s exactly what the last days with her have started feeling like. Something I didn’t know I needed until she came to my life. Peyton slides the record back and keeps flipping, not knowing my inner turmoil and thoughts. She pulls out another and goes still.

“What did you find?” I ask her.

She turns the item around. The cover is worn at the edges, its colors faded. “My grandma used to play this album. I haven't seen it in years,” Peyton explains, her voice threaded with tenderness and surprise. The noise around us fades, and it’s just us kneeling on the floor between dusty crates and decades of music.

“Well, that sounds like a hidden treasure to me.”

“It is,” she says, almost to herself. Her thumb brushes over the corner of the album sleeve. I wonder which memory she’s thinking of right now. Maybe a version of herself untouched by heartbreak.

We spend the next half hour going through sections, occasionally calling out our finds. I find an older rap album I’ve been searching for and I must look like a kid on Christmas.

Peyton watches me with a soft expression. “You really love this place and music.”