“What’s a lyric you’ve always sung wrong?” he asked.
She smirked and ran a finger along the rim of her mug. “‘There’s nothing that a hundred men on Mars could ever do.’ From “Africa” by Toto. Even now, I refuse to believe that it’s anything but men on Mars.”
Oakley laughed. “Mine is ‘Dreams of dragons fire, and of things that will bite’ from Metallica’s “Enter Sandman”.”
“Would you stop being my friend if I said I’ve never listened to Metallica?”
“They’re not for everybody, so I’ll forgive you.”
She tilted her head. “An artist everyone should listen to?”
“Fleetwood Mac and Pearl Jam.”
“Point me in the direction of someone who doesn’t like Stevie Nicks or Eddie Vedder and we’ll have words.”
His heart soared at the passion in her voice and he smiled. “I knew I picked you for a good reason,” he said and put his focus on one foot. “What is your comfort food?”
“Cereal.”
He forced his heart to beat regularly, because how dare she do this to him. “That’s mine.”
“I see the value in it now.”
“Clem…” She arched an eyebrow, sipping on her hot cocoa. “Before cereal changed your mind.”
“Bagel with as many layers of cream cheese as I can fit onto each side.”
“Can’t go wrong with a bagel,” he agreed, dragging one hand up around her ankle, squeezing it gently. “If you were to change your name, what would you change it to?”
She opened her mouth, then frowned and pressed her lips together in a pout. He wrapped his hands around both her heels and squeezed, his thumbs rubbing against the balls of her ankles. The fact that she was thinking about it so much amused him.
“When I was growing up, I wanted to be Florence. It was my paternal grandmother’s name, but someone else got to it before me.”
“Let’s go steal it from them.”
She laughed and wiggled her toes. “She can keep it. I like Clementine now.”
“I like it too.”
“Would you want to change your name?”
Oakley nodded, flashing her a playful smirk. “Something that you can shorten and works as a nickname.”
“You’re hilarious,” she deadpanned and pulled her feet away. “Do you believe in ghosts and aliens?”
He leaned back, legs stretched out and arched an eyebrow. “Seriously, that’s what you want to know?”
“Answer the question.”
“Yes to ghosts, no to aliens. You?”
“Yes to aliens, no to ghosts.”
“Baby, come on.” He leaned forward, because how could this woman not believe in ghosts? “Ghosts are real.”
She leaned forward as well. “Ghosts are dead people, which is not real. Aliens exist, how else do you explain all of the shit happening around us?”
He stared at her for a minute and groaned again. “I might change my mind about falling in love with you.”