We continued down Girard Avenue, stopping near Boomer Beach in front of La Jolla Cove Bridge Club to watch the sea lions swim. It was a gorgeous day, and this was one of my favorite things to do when I got off the radio. Being anywhere down by the water made me feel alive, the energy and sound of the waves crashing, the smell of the ocean, the pelicans flying overhead.
There was nothing like it in the world.
Little did Lori know that I lived very close to where we were standing.
She took the last sip of her mocha and tossed the cup in the recycle bin. “Do you live around here?”
Lori was obviously a mind reader.
I nodded, also tossing my empty cup in the recycle bin. “Just a few minutes from here, actually, within walking distance.”
La Jolla was an upscale village where some of the oceanfront homes were worth over twenty million dollars. I didn’t want Lori to get the wrong idea or give her the impression that I owned something like that because I lived in a modest place.
“It’s just a little two-bedroom, two-bath home, barely twelve-hundred square feet, but I love it.”
“I live in La Jolla as well. I have a one-bedroom condo over on Pearl Street, also small.”
I smiled. “Yet another thing we have in common. When will this madness end?” I pulled out my phone and pointed to the sea lions over by the rocks. “Let’s take a selfie.”
She stared at me.
“What? It’s for social media. We’re going to have to start posting things daily, you know.”
She glanced down at the rocks. “How close do you want to get?” I gestured to the tourists, some of the sea lions ten feet away from them, even though there were signs that warned against getting too close.
“Come on. Quit thinking so much.”
Lori followed me to the barrier that separated the path from the rocks below. It was only two feet high at the most and easy to step over, but I went first and then held out my hand for her.
She glanced at it.
“I don’t have cooties. Take it.”
Lori laughed. “Who uses that word anymore? You told me you’re forty years old.”
“I am and I will probably turn forty-one before you decide to take my hand.”
Another man stepped over the barrier in front of us and watched his wife struggle to get over the barrier, not bothering to offer her his hand to help her over the barrier.
The woman frowned. “You don’t have a romantic bone in your body.”
We watched them walk away, discussing his lack of romanticism, then I turned back to Lori. “For the record, I’m not trying to be romantic.” I held out my hand closer. “Are you coming or what?”
She finally took my hand and stepped over the barrier. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Much of the sandstone was completely flat, although there was a slight incline as we made our way down toward the water. It was wet, so we took our time.
I glanced behind at the sea lions—fifteen to twenty of them—and then waved Lori closer. I tapped the camera button on my phone and hit selfie mode, trying to angle it to show both of us but still see all of the sea lions behind us.
I moved the camera around, looking for the perfect angle. “Almost got it. Hang on.”
“Do you want me to take your picture?” A woman with a floppy hat and huge sunglasses gestured to my phone.
“Yeah. That would be great. We want to get as many sea lions in the shot as possible.”
She took the phone from me. “I can do that.”
I must have had at least a thousand different photos there, mostly in the evening since the sunsets there are gorgeous. The area was also popular with snorkelers, kayakers, and scuba divers.
I moved closer to Lori and smiled for the camera.
The woman lowered the phone and frowned. “Hmmm. I can’t get everything in the frame. Move a little closer to each other.”
I scooted closer to Lori. “How’s this?”
The woman lowered the phone again. “You need to be closer. In fact, have her stand partially in front of you.”
Lori didn’t say a single word, which was odd.
I inched closer, now close enough that my chest was grazing her back and my nose just inches from the side of her face.
She smelled wonderful.
“Oh yeah, this is going to be good,” the woman said. “On the count of three . . .”
Was it wrong for me to be enjoying her essence so much? It was addictive.
Hopefully, she wouldn’t notice—
“Are you smelling me?” Lori whispered, not turning back to look at me, and still smiling for the camera.
I kept the smile on my face and tried to talk through my closed teeth. “Your hair is in my face. A person has to breathe, you know.”
“You’re going to love it!” The woman handed the phone back to me, even though I had no clue she had even taken the picture.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” The woman smiled and walked away.
I tapped the gallery button, wanting 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?”