Just Another Silly Love Song - Rich Amooi Page 0,40
to make sure it was a good picture, since there was a good possibility one or both of us was talking when she had taken it.
“That’s what I thought . . .” I stared at the picture, shaking my head. “Not good.”
Lori leaned over and laughed. “We both look psychotic. You more than me, of course.”
“On the contrary, your psychosis is shining through like a lighthouse.”
She laughed. “This picture is ridiculous and you’re not posting it anywhere. I don’t understand how it could be so bad.”
“You asked me a question while someone was taking the picture.”
She crossed her arms. “You were sniffing my hair.”
“I was inhaling naturally and it was a coincidence that I just happened to be doing it in the vicinity of your hair. Most human beings need to breathe in order to survive on earth. You should try it sometime.”
“Right. You were sniffing my hair.”
“Because you smell nice!”
Oops. I didn’t mean to say that.
We locked eyes for a moment.
I wondered which of us was more confused.
Probably me.
“Thank you,” she finally said. “And if you must know, it’s the perfume on my neck, not the smell of my hair.”
I glanced down at her neck, then her collarbone, then her—
Pull yourself together!
Lori cleared her throat and gestured up the hill, most likely trying to change the subject. “Do you want to walk up to Sunny Jim?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Sunny Jim was the name of La Jolla’s famous sea cave where people could descend a century-old bootlegger’s tunnel through the sandstone cliffs. I had been down there more than a few times, but there was also a great lookout on top to take in the views of the Pacific Ocean.
We walked up the hill, past The Cave Store, and along the dirt trail to one of the benches near the edge of the cliff that overlooked the water.
I sat down next to Lori on the bench and inhaled.
Lori glanced over. “Are you trying to sniff me again?”
I chuckled. “This time I was just enjoying the ocean air. Promise.”
She gazed out toward La Jolla Shores Beach, deep in thought. “Do we know enough about each other?”
“Why? Do you need to get going?”
“No. I’m good. You?”
“I’m not in a hurry.” I thought about it for a moment. “We could play a little game of twenty questions if you want. Or ten questions. The other person has to answer them as fast as possible without thinking too much.”
She nodded. “Where do we get the questions from?”
“Google,” we both said at the same time.
Lori pulled out her phone and did a search. “I think I found a list of questions that are pretty good. Okay, ready?”
I nodded. “Go for it.” I closed my eyes and drew in the salty air, feeling more relaxed than I had felt in such a long time. I opened my eyes just as a squadron of pelicans flew overhead.
Lori scrolled through her phone. “Okay. What activity instantly calms you?”
“I was just thinking about that, actually. What we’re doing right now. Being by the ocean, listening to the crashing waves and the seagulls. The smell of coconut-scented sunscreen and grilled hot dogs.” I pointed to the pelicans who were not far off in the distance. “Watching the pelicans glide by or dive into the ocean headfirst, looking for fish. I can’t get enough of it. What about you?”
“Same. This is wonderful.” She glanced at her phone again. “If you could do anything instead of your current career, what would you do?”
I scratched my chin, thinking about it. “Fortune cookie writer.”
She laughed. “That could be fun.”
“What about you?”
She batted her eyelashes. “A cupcake taster.”
“What flavor?”
Lori shrugged. “I’m a simple girl, so . . . vanilla, chocolate, or lemon. Oh wait, I love red velvet, too.” She held up a finger. “And pecan praline.”
I chuckled. “In other words, any and all cupcakes.”
“Basically. Yes.” Lori glanced at her phone again. “Favorite color?”
“Green,” I answered.
She gave me a knowing smile. “Also green.”
“Interesting . . .”
“Indeed.” Lori scrolled through her phone. “Here we go. Which of the five senses would you say is your strongest?”
“This shouldn’t be a surprise—smell.”
Lori laughed. “I should’ve known.”
“And you?”
She hesitated. “Touch.”
I glanced down at her hand for some reason.
Lori must have noticed because she wiggled her fingers before asking the next question. “Do you collect anything?”
I chuckled. “Dust.”
“Please explain.”
“I hate cleaning.”
“Me, too!” She laughed. “What makes you angry?”
“Inconsiderate people. You?”
“Same.” We watched another squadron of pelicans glide by overhead and then she turned back to me. “This is nice.”
I nodded.