The Summer of Jordi Perez (And the Best Burger in Los Angeles)(20)

Too bad.

“You’re quiet,” she says.

“So are you,” I point out.

“I don’t count,” she says.

“I didn’t know if quiet people knew they were quiet,” I say. “The way loud people know they’re loud. People sometimes think I have no idea, but it’s not that I don’t know, I just can’t help it? Words come out of my mouth all the time.”

Jordi turns onto Los Feliz Boulevard. “I never assume someone doesn’t know herself.”

“Oh my god, no, I didn’t mean that I thought you didn’t, I—”

“Abby,” she says. “Chill. I meant that I know that you know you’re loud. Louder than me, at least.”

“You’ll have to say chill a lot,” I say. “If we keep hanging out. Because I am bad at it and I’ll need reminders.”

Jordi takes a photograph of the tagged billboard over the Chevron gas station. The graffiti artist’s work looks crisper and better designed than the supermarket ad it’s covering.

“That’ll be a good shot,” I say. “Not like the others won’t be. I’m sure you’re really talented. Well, maybe not the ones of me, but that’s not your fault. You can only do so much.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks me.

“N—nothing.” I lose track of how to stand normally again. “I’m not a model.”

“Are you asking me to stop taking your picture?” Jordi asks. Her voice is a little softer. “If you want me to stop, I will. I didn’t mean to make you feel weird.”

“I always feel weird,” I say.

She grins as a breeze pours in around us and her wavy hair flies out around her. “Me too.”

“You can keep taking my picture,” I say.

And she does.





CHAPTER 8


Jax picks me up on Saturday afternoon so we can go to Pie’n Burger in Pasadena. Getting there requires the freeway, but since it’s the weekend, traffic is light and Jax vrooms his car easily to our destination. Today he has music blasting slightly beyond what I’d call listenable. I’m not sure what I’d have guessed his taste would be, but I would not have picked indie folk guys whistling and hand-clapping.

“Can we turn this down?” I ask. “I can barely hear you.”

“Man,” he says. “This shit’s my jam. But fine.”

“So I sort of went out with Jordi last night,” I say. “I mean, not really. Not like a date.”

“Nice,” Jax says. “Didja hook up?”

“I said it wasn’t like a date.”

“You can hook up on not a date,” he says. “You can pretty much hook up anywhere.”

“Maybe if you’re you,” I say. “She wanted to take pictures in our neighborhood, since she’s this amazingly talented photographer. So I went with her.”

“So she’s like an artsy type,” he says. “That’s what you’re into?”

“I don’t know what I’m into,” I say. “I like her, specifically.”

“Why?” he asks. “Remember, you have to have real reasons. I can use your rule against you.”

“How is that using it against me? Because … she’s smart in this really calm and thoughtful way. And she takes photography seriously like it means the world to her. And …” I picture her and smile. “She’ll be super quiet and then say something kind of funny and sly.”

I’m not sure I’ve ever thought much less spoken the word sly before.

“And hot,” he says.

“Well, yeah.” I think about Jordi standing perfectly still and snapping picture after picture, and about being the one to see it all happen. “Did you ever come up with an answer for why you like Gaby?”

“Of course I did,” he says as he parks the car next to the restaurant. “Come on, let’s do this.”

“And?” I ask as we walk inside. “So?”

Pie’n Burger is an old-fashioned diner that’s been here more than forty years, and it’s like time has mostly stopped inside. We sit down at the counter and quickly decide that even though we’ve been trying to diversify to add as many options as possible to the Biggest Blank, we’ll both get the regular hamburger. Our only other options are a veggie burger or a turkey burger, so we feel secure in keeping things simple.

“Okay, so here we go.” Jax leans back in his chair. “She’s cute and smart.”

“That’s barely specific,” I say. “That’s almost vague.”

The waitress clunks our sodas down without a word or a smile, but I don’t care because even these are old-fashioned here, syrup and soda water poured over crushed ice.

“If we were reviewing sodas,” I say, “these would win.”

“Save it for the full app launch,” Jax says.

“So what else?” I ask. “How do you even know Gaby?”

“Our moms are in some alumni group together,” he says. “I see her around at these events I get dragged to.”

“Aren’t you too old to get dragged to events?” I ask. It’s been years since I was seen at anything branded Eat Healthy with Norah! Though that’s probably as much my mom’s choice as mine.