Page 2 of Joy to the Girls (She Gets the Girl #2)

“You cold?” I ask, casting a sideways glance at Jim in his signature white T-shirt.

His arms are crossed and his teeth are chattering as we count down the last few minutes of our shift.

The shitty heater he bought on Marketplace barely has enough kick to warm half an ass cheek in this food truck.

I’ve probably fantasized about my steaming-hot peppermint mocha from the coffee shop yesterday about a thousand times in the last three hours.

“Shut up and close the window,” he says the second the tiny clock on the register finally ticks past seven.

Don’t have to tell me twice. I grin and hop off the truck to collect the chalkboard menu and utensils. Then I jump up to slam the window shut, noting the icicles clinging to the metal. I whip my phone out and call Molly as I book it back inside to pack the cooler.

“Hey, cutie,” she says as she picks up. “You finish your shift?”

“Yeah. I’ll be over in fifteen.” I put her on speaker and snap on some gloves to wrap up the provolone and cheddar cheese. Meanwhile, Jim starts cooking up my usual post-shift meal, a classic Philly cheesesteak with the works. “You want anything?” I ask, just like I always do.

But of course she says, “No, no, I’m good.”

Jim looks up from over by the fryer, and the both of us narrow our eyes at the usual response from Molly Steals-My-Fries Parker. I’ll add extra, he mouths, dumping another handful of fries into the basket.

He hesitates before adding another.

“How’s packing going?”

I hear her stop rifling through a drawer long enough to exhale. “Fine. Do you think I’ll need shorts?”

“In… the middle of winter?”

“Global warming! What if there’s a freak warm day or something?”

“Tell you what, Parker. If it hits seventy, I’ll buy you a pair.”

She snorts. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

I hear her clattering around as I finish packing up all the veggies. There’s a “shit” and a loud bang, and then Molly calls out an “I’m all right!”

I smirk and shake my head. “All right. I’ll see you in a sec, Molly. Please still be in one piece when I get there.”

There’s another bang, followed by a small laugh. “I’ll do my best.”

“And don’t forget a bikini and a sun hat!”

“Alex…,” she groans before I pull off my gloves and hang up.

I chuck them into the trash can as Jim holds out a slightly greasy plastic bag, a take-out container resting at the bottom. “Your, uh, holiday bonus is inside,” he mumbles, then turns quickly to start scrubbing at the grill.

“My what?” I peek into the bag to see an envelope. Even greasier than the bag, if that’s possible.

He’s given me one every year I’ve worked for him. But I can’t help but mess with him the teensiest bit.

He’s the biggest softie but absolutely can’t show it without being embarrassed.

“Yourholidaybonus,” he repeats, almost incoherently.

“My—”

“Alex, get the fuck off this truck.”

I laugh, and even though he’s shaking his head, he cracks a smile.

“Merry Christmas, Jim,” I say as I grab my bike helmet and pull open the door. “And thank you.”

“Merry Christmas, kid. Tell your mom I say hi.”

I head out into the cold, my eyes watering as I start the trek back out of Oakland.

The Cathedral of Learning looms behind me as I head toward Lawrenceville, and I must set a world record for f-bombs in the eight-minute bike ride.

The chill is so biting, not even thoughts of a warm, sunny beach or a crackling campfire can convince me I’m not literally turning into a human Popsicle.

I skid onto Mintwood Street and lock up my bike outside my lopsided rental house before walking down the block to Molly’s lopsided house, where she lives with Cora and Noah.

My eyes travel a little farther down the street to the two-story town house on the corner currently being renovated.

I became friendly with the owner, Mark, when he saw me gawking at it one day.

He let me poke around inside and gave me first dibs on renting the place this summer when it becomes available, sending a lease over last week to make it official.

Wide windows and a cozy front porch. A small fenced-in yard and built-ins in the living room, where we could pile all our books.

It’s a bit pricier, but with the copy editor job I’ve got lined up after my internship this past summer for Rabbit-Labs, a hipster tech company down in the strip, I could definitely cover my portion and then some while Molly figures out what she wants to do.

I just…

Need to finally ask Molly if she wants to live with me. No matter how scared I am she’ll say no.

I pull my eyes away and hold up my hand to knock, but Molly yanks open the door before I even have a chance. Her hair is pulled into a messy bun, and she’s in the oversize Pitt sweatshirt she stole from me our sophomore year.

I can’t be mad—it looks better on her anyway.

“Hi,” she says with a smile that still makes my heart stutter in my chest. She stands on her tiptoes to give me a kiss. “ Oh my God , you’re freezing.” She pulls me inside while rubbing one of my ice-block hands between her own.

“I know. And I even wore your scarf and everything,” I say with a grin as I tug the knitted fabric out of my jacket and hold it up.

“Maybe you need two,” she says, completely serious.

After she pulls off my jacket, she wraps her arms around my waist and I nuzzle closer.

Her hair smells like the white-and-gold bottle of shampoo in her bathroom, sweet like coconut and honey, and a hint of that Chanel perfume her mom got her for her twenty-first birthday.

She goes to pull away, but I groan, holding her tighter, closer. “Don’t move. You’re warm.”

“But you smell like cheesesteaks and fry oil.”

“Are you flirting with me?” I grumble into her hair.

“Is it working?”

As if it ever doesn’t.

I lean back and give her a smoldering look, but Molly just rolls her eyes and smiles. Sufficiently warm now, I let her go, and we head up the creaking steps to her room.

I let out a long whistle as I hop onto Molly’s bed and steal a quick sip from her sticker-covered water bottle. Her usually perfectly and carefully organized space looks like a hurricane tore straight through it.

“Jeez, Parker. Are you planning on dropping out of school to start a new life in Barnwich? I think you’ve pretty much packed your whole room.” I flick open my take-out container as I watch her throw a sweater and, inexplicably, a can opener on top of an already overflowing bag.

That’s one thing about Molly Parker. She certainly doesn’t have a shortage of stuff. I can already feel the backache I’m going to get from helping her lug everything down the street when we move in together.

I think of the lease, nestled between the pages of a textbook at the bottom of my backpack, and try to will myself closer to finding out if she even wants to.

She gives me a look, then steals a kiss and a fry before diving back into her closet. “I just want to be prepared!”

“For what? A zombie apocalypse?”

A flip-flop comes flying out of the closet and whacks me in the head mid-bite. She reappears, holding another armful of stuff as I rub at my forehead. “When you need to borrow a pair of sweatpants or a T-shirt or a cozy sweater, don’t you come running to me, okay?”

“I’ll always come running to you.” I chuck the take-out container to the side and grab ahold of her, sending her tumbling on top of me, laughing.

“Alex.”

I kiss her and she kisses me back, long and slow. The kind of kiss that you feel everywhere.

When we pull apart, I look down to see a ski mask on top of the pile of stuff next to us. “Molly, what the hell. Are we going to rob the Barnwich bank?”

“Probably not.”

“ Probably not?”

She rolls off me and grabs the pile, heading over to drop the ski mask into her bursting-at-the-seams bag, while I sit up and return to my cheesesteak. “Just at least give me a warning if we’re going full Bonnie and Clyde, okay?”

I take a big bite, steadying myself as I chew, ready to finally ask about the house once I swallow. It’s time.

My heart hammers in my chest as I watch her open another drawer, squatting down to peer inside like she’s searching for something.

“Whatcha looking for? A ball gown? Some fine china?”

She sighs before moving on to the next one. “My lucky socks. I’ve been looking for them all week, but they’ve just… vanished. We’re gonna need some luck if we’re going to ever get Cora and May to admit their feelings for each other.”

I nearly choke on my mouthful of food as guilt washes over me.

Shit.

I look slowly down at my feet, where the socks she’s looking for currently reside. Extra cozy. High-quality wool. A gift from Noah the day she got her Pitt acceptance letter. Stolen one early morning after I slept over. And currently… sporting a hole in the left toe.

Molly turns her head to look at me, her gaze traveling down to my feet.

“Alex—”

“What? My tootsies were cold!”

She pokes my big toe. “And this?”

I let out a long sigh and sadly eat a fry. “An accident. I’m sorry, Mol. Maybe they’re like… extra lucky now?”

She raises a doubtful eyebrow at me and plunks down on her bag, struggling to zip it up.

I turn my head to look out the window, catching sight of that perfect house down the street, knowing now isn’t the right time. Knowing another night is about to go by without me being brave enough to ask Molly if she wants to live in it together.

If I feel this bad about a pair of socks, I can’t even imagine how bad I’ll feel if she says no.

One thing is for sure, though… these socks must not be lucky for me.