Jasper doesn’t resist as I pull him through the crowd, weaving in and out of people and narrowly avoiding slipping on the beer-splattered floor. Unlike women who spend money on silk and lace nighties, my pajamas drawer consists of worn-out concert tees that are no longer appropriate to be seen out in public. My last Red Autumn shirt has seen her final day and I need a replacement to wear to the store.

There’s no line when we get to the merch station and we’re early enough to have our choice of styles and sizes.

“Can I get two of the black T-shirts, one in a medium and one in a—” I turn and eye up Jasper, not only to figure out his size, but because I like to eye him up. “And one in double XL, please.” The man behind the makeshift counter nods but doesn’t speak as he grabs our requested sizes while bopping his head to music playing over the speakers.

“How much?” Jasper asks, reaching into his back pocket to grab his wallet.

“Oh no you don’t.” I slap his hand away. “I’m buying the shirts. You got the tickets, I get the shirts. No objections.”

Even though I said no objections, it’s clear Jasper doesn’t agree.

“You got everything the other day, this time it’s on me. It’s only fair.”

Considering all I bought on our trip to Seven Falls was my gas, this doesn’t feel comparable. But I can see that this is a fight I’m not going to win, so I try one last bargain.

“Fine, but if you get these, then you have to at least let me buy the drinks.”

One side of his mouth pulls up into a smirk. “Deal.”

When we look back at our T-shirt salesman, he looks none too impressed with our squabble or our negotiating skills. He spins the iPad around, mumbling, “Fifty-two dollars,” and gesturing to where Jasper should insert his card.

Glad to see he loves his job.

Jasper signs the screen and I take the shirts, slipping mine over my head and probably ruining the curls I took way too long to perfect.

“What do you think?” I point to their name scrolled across the shirt in the signature script of their band name with an illustration of their beautiful faces beneath it.

“Love it.” His cheeks go a little red and it’s only then that I realize I asked him to check out my boobs. “It looks great on you.”

“Thank you, I’m definitely wearing it to the Book Nook this week.” If there’s one perk to owning a business, it’s being in charge of the dress code. I can’t imagine having to show up to work each day in pantyhose and a blazer. Talk about hell on earth.