“We haven’t gone that way yet.” Fox points toward a side street with more shops. “Did you guys?”

Summer shakes her head, bouncing on her toes again. “Let’s go, let’s go.”

“My feet are starting to hurt. I should’ve worn different shoes.” Joy’s platforms are disco chic and most definitely not made for walking. She’s sure there’s a blister making its miserable self at home right above her left heel.

Fox stops short, turning to her. “Do you want to hop on?”

“Hop? On?”

His rumbly laugh catches her off guard. “My back. I’ll give you a ride. Come on.”

“Oh, no. Fox, no. I can’t do that.”

“You can, actually.” He stands with his back to her, lowering himself down to a crouch. “Come on. Just until your feet stop hurting.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Carefully, she wraps her arms around his neck, mostly resting them over his shoulders. His arms loop under her legs to support them as he stands up. “Isitokayamitooheavyohmygod.” She feels his rumbly laugh in his chest, vibrating against her torso.

“You’re fine.” There’s barely any tension in the firm muscles in his arms and back, none on his face either. He walks at the same pace he has all day, barely hindered by carrying her.

“You didn’t have to do this at all, but thank you.”

Fox turns his head slightly to meet her gaze. His dark eyes are the warmest she’s ever seen them. “It’s your day. Whatever you want.”

The romantic clichés are not messing around today. They’re hitting her hard with the force of a superpowered wrecking ball. All she wants to do is stare into his eyes for as long as she can. It’s so strange to go from consuming media about something for literal years to experiencing it up close and personal.

Joy has spent so long waiting for Malcolm with the purest form of tunnel vision, it honestly never occurred to her that yes, if she tried, there might just be someone else out there. Someone out there among the billions of people on the planet. What are the odds?

They cross the street and head straight for the first building, which looks like a souvenir shop. Joy slides off Fox’s back and wanders through the store alone for a while. She ends up crossing paths with Summer, who has already filled her basket with shot glasses, playing cards, and postcards with the city’s name scrawled across them.

“For game night,” she explains. “Oh, Joy, you should come to our next one. It’s on Wednesday.”

“Maybe.” Joy browses a turnstile with mini license-plate key chains, searching for Fox’s name. “Board games aren’t really my thing.”