Upside Down(32)

Michael stared at me for a long second, then opened my office door and called out to his personal assistant. “Hey, Rach. Why isn’t cereal called or considered to be a soup?”

There was a pause, then her voice sounded down the hall. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously,” Michael replied.

“Like milk soup and Weet-Bix croutons?”

“See?” I said. “It’s an unanswerable question.”

“Not sure about unanswerable,” Rachel offered, appearing at my door. “More like, random and not altogether too important.”

That made me laugh. “True. But interesting.”

Michael sighed. “He’s playing a game of Q&A with his new love interest on the bus every afternoon and it seems to be a contest of who can ask the weirdest question.”

“Oooh, that’s so cute!” Rachel said, her face lighting up. “Ask him why we send something by car and call it shipment but send stuff by ship and call it cargo? Or why do our feet smell and our noses run? Or why the number eleven isn’t pronounced onety-one? Is Disneyland a people trap operated by a mouse?” She nodded. “I can keep going.”

Michael squinted at her. “Did you take a class on random questions?”

“Kind of. I took philosophy at university and we used to have these drinking games where—” She composed herself. “You know what, never mind.”

I laughed. “I’ll keep those questions in mind.”





But as the afternoon wore on, rain settled in and the bus was crowded. I couldn’t save him a seat, and that was not part of my plan at all.

He climbed on the bus and I watched as he scanned through the crowd and he spotted me and smiled, but I could see he was disappointed when he saw there was an older gent sitting next to me. He held onto the vertical handrail near the step and gave me a pouty frown.

“Sorry,” I mouthed.

He shook it off with a bit of a smile, but he was soon jostled by another passenger and kind of got half turned around. And I hated that he was right there, so close, but I couldn’t talk to him, and he was wearing a grey scarf, and although I couldn’t see his shoes, I had no doubt they’d match, and it bothered me that grey was a muted, sad colour, and he was anything but.

I stood up, excusing myself to get past my seatmate. I tapped a lady on the shoulder and offered her my seat, which she gratefully took, and I squeezed my way through the aisle, apologising to everyone. But then I was near him.

“Do you mind if I stand here?” I asked.

“No, that’s fine,” he said as he turned around. He broke out in a grin but we were impossibly close, and as the bus jolted, he bumped into me. I put my hand on his arm to keep us both steady. He looked up into my eyes, a little dreamily. “Hi.”

“I couldn’t not speak to you,” I said, not exactly hating how close we were. “And our question game…”

Jordan nodded to the crew up the back. “They’ll be disappointed they didn’t hear.”

I looked over my shoulder to the back of the bus to see a few smiling faces watching us. “I think me coming to stand with you made up for it.”

Just then, the bus lurched to a stop and Jordan all but fell into me, my arm going around his back. “Sorry,” he said quickly.

“Don’t be,” I whispered. “I can’t say I am.”

He shot me a look and he blushed. He swallowed hard. “I’m trying not to say anything inappropriate or embarrassing, but you’re really close and incredibly good looking, and you smell amazing.” Then he blanched, obviously not meaning to say any of that out loud. “Like that. All of what I just said. Not embarrassing at all.”

That made me laugh. “Thank you.”

He groaned. “I’m a nervous rambler, remember? And before I forget, I’d like to commend you on the Oedipus and Hamlet joke. It’s like some comedic geniuses got together and formulated a joke designed just for me. And wow, you look even better this close up.”

I laughed again. We were close, close enough that I could see some faint freckles on his nose, but the crowded bus was to blame. Or in my case, to thank. “Oh, and just so you know,” I said, “I was curious and googled soups. Did you know there are about forty kinds of cold soup? Even a cold banana soup.” I grimaced at the thought. “I have serious concerns.”

“Did they have cereal listed as a cold soup?”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

His gaze went from my left eye to my right. “It’s the conundrum of our times,” he whispered, like he was no longer talking about soup. “Your eyes are really pretty.”

Now it was I who blushed, and it made me look away, which made me see how close my stop was. “Would you like your question now?” I asked.

“Yes, please.”

“If animals could talk, which would be the rudest?”

“Cats,” he answered quickly. “Or those monkeys in tourist spots who steal your things. Or sharks. I can’t imagine them being overly pleasant company.”

“The smartest?”

“Uh, elephants because they never forget a thing. Or octopi. Personally I think octopus are from outer space and landed here a few thousand years ago by mistake. If they came here looking for intelligent life forms, they missed the mark. Humans might have opposable thumbs and mastered how to make fire, but as a species, we’re pretty fucking stupid.”