Page 6 of Scrooged All The Way

Maybe Rory was right?

Maybe it was time to give up on wishing for something that would never happen and move on? I was a twenty-four, almost twenty-five-year-old virgin. I hardly dated. My inexperience and my age were probably all reasons he would never look twice at me.

“Don’t make that face,” Rory groaned. I tried to smile, but I knew I wasn’t fooling either one of us.

“What face?” I mustered up.

“That one!” She pointed at me. “The one that feels like I just kicked your puppy and shattered all your hopes and dreams all at once.” I sniffed because as sad as my thoughts were, my best friend’s flair for the dramatic made me smile.

“I just… maybe you’re right?” I shrugged and shook my head. “I should get going.” I had a shift at the diner tonight.

“Maury give you the job finally?” she asked, and I shook my head.

“Unfortunately, no.” I rolled my eyes. My uncle had just bought the diner in town, and with tourists coming up to Holly Burrows to ski, he needed extra help. But he wouldn’t give me an official job because he said I was meant for more than waitressing at his greasy spoon. “But I wanted to check out the bulletin board, too,” I shared. The new coffee shop in town had a huge cork board where people in our town posted things like small jobs or openings or classes they were hosting somewhere. Rory and I both usually checked it to help us make a little extra money on the side to help with all our projects.

“Ah, well, it’s your lucky day! I did that for you!” She winked, and my phone pinged. “That’s of the whole board,” she pointed out, and I swiped to the next image. “And the next one?”

“Yeah?” I glanced up and saw something in her eyes.

“That’s one that Mr. Whittaker posted after leaving the hardware store today.”

“What!?” I jumped up with excitement. His number was there. I had Dasher’s number! “He needs help painting,” I read out loud.

“Hmm,” she grinned.

“Wait, you knew this and you just—"

“Look, you know I love you, Juniper, I just… I don’t want you to get your hopes up. But—”

“But what?”

“After watching him today… I think you’re right.”

“Watching him?” A green-eyed monster reared its ugly head. Jealousy was a nasty emotion. It wasn’t rational, because if it were, I would have known better than to feel the way I felt when it came to my childhood best friend.

“Not like that! Eww!” She made a face. “He is not my type! Not that he’s not handsome, but… no!” She shook her head, and a dreamy look fell over her face.

“What’s going on?”

“What do you mean, what—”

“Are you crushing on someone?” I asked, leaning in, and she rolled her eyes.

“No! Crushes and me? Pfft, please! My black soul that matches her black heart here, remember?”

“I think thou protest too much,” I teased. She stuck her tongue out at me.

“Anyhow,” she drawled out, obviously going to change the subject. “I saw him in the hardware store today. We just happened to leave about the same time, and he stopped by just as I got my coffee at Drip.”

“And?”

“And… I saw him put the notice up, so I snapped a picture of it for you, and then…”

“What?”

“He went to his truck. It was parked out by the side of the library and—"

“What?” I felt like I was about to burst from happiness.