Page 17 of Only Lovers in the Building

Ben switched on the lights and moved a stack of books off the round dining table to the kitchen island. “Would you like to

shower?”

She desperately needed one. It was a hot June night, and the walk from the bookstore had left her sweaty. “I don’t have anything

to change into.”

Lily supposed she could sleep in the airy linen dress she wore to the day spa, but honestly, she didn’t want to.

“Take something of mine,” he said. “Believe it or not, I’ve had women stay the night. We’ve always managed.”

She believed it; she just didn’t want to think about it now. How Belle/Bella had made herself cozy in his apartment was not

something she wanted to contemplate.

Ben opened his closet, and she was amused to see that his doors jammed on the glider just as hers did. He pulled out a short

black silky robe sliding off a skinny hanger, the kind you buy to leave at a guy’s apartment—just in case. “Will this work?”

She snatched it from him, begrudgingly, yet grateful to Belle/Bella even so. The kimono style robe was perfect. “It’ll work,”

she mumbled.

Ben did not owe her any explanations regarding the robe or anything else.

If she hadn’t been so absent-minded, hearts for eyes, butterflies fluttering in her chest, she might not have left her keys behind.

Presently, she would be in her studio, where she belonged, curled up in bed with a cup of tea and a new book.

“I’ll order dinner while you shower,” he said. “What would you like?”

Lily was starving. They’d gone straight past the busy restaurants along Lincoln Road with their long lines. Now the mention

of food had her salivating.

“You never did order that pizza,” she replied.

“Deep-dish it is.”

In the tiny bathroom, Lily tried and failed to get a grip. Ben’s soap smelled fresh, and his toiletries were semi decent.

But she couldn’t appreciate any of it. She didn’t even snoop through the medicine cabinet, as reason dictated. She had other

things on her mind. She and Ben were going to sleep together. There’d been no talk of him taking the couch or her using a

futon. Their apartments were nearly identical, down to the quirks, and unless his leather couch pulled out to a bed, they

were going to have to share his. Somehow, she would have to hold it together and not turn into a sex-craved werewolf at the

stroke of midnight.

When she finally ventured out of the bathroom, the soft glow of Ben’s many mismatched lamps instantly calmed her. Determined

to enjoy this night, Lily tightened the knot of the robe and joined him in the kitchen.

“Couldn’t get you deep-dish, darling,” he said. “The place I had in mind is closed. I hope you’re okay with New York–style

from a spot down the street.”

“I’m not picky,” Lily said. “Except when it comes to New York–style anything. So I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m sure you will.” He presented her with two bottles of wine. “This red or this red?” he asked.

“Any red is fine.”

“Oh, that’s right. You’re not picky.” He flashed a killer smile and opened a bottle.

The pizza arrived piping hot, and to be fair, it was decent. Although, it wouldn’t rank very high in the city. Maybe it had

to do with the NYC water or something, but NYC–style pizza was hard to replicate. She didn’t tell any of this to Ben. He’d

been so kind to her, she could leave him to his illusions.

After dinner, she helped him tidy up, then it was his turn to shower. He handed her a glass of wine and a remote control.

“Watch, read, or listen to whatever you like. If you’re into games...” He pointed out an old school gaming console on the

shelf. “The games are in the boxes up there. Make yourself at home. I’ll be in the shower.”

Lily didn’t relax until she heard running water. Even then, she was faking it. When Ben came out of the bathroom in a T-shirt

and striped boxer shorts, smelling of fresh soap, she was curled up in bed, glass of wine in hand, book on her lap, seemingly

engrossed in a passage that she had not even attempted to read.

“Want to stay up and read the whole book?” he asked.

“I’m game if you are,” she said.

He grabbed his copy of Spring Fever and stretched out at the foot of the bed, his head to her feet. Their bodies formed a perfect ninety-degree angle. Why did

she think that spending the night with Ben would be anything but fun?

“By the way, what’s this fine novel about?” he asked.

“I... don’t know.”

She flipped over her copy and read the back cover. “Says here it’s a fast-paced, thrilling romance between a political strategist and a newspaper journalist... Set in DC in the spring, when

the cherry blossoms are in bloom... Clive and Celine are tangled in the world of intrigue and half-truths... They find

passion in each other’s arms. ”

He balked. “What does that even mean?”

Lily wiggled her toes, tickling his ear. “Guess we’ll find out.”

“What fun tropes are in store for us?” he asked.

“Enemies to lovers, I bet. Usually with this setup, that’s what you get.”

“I don’t get the appeal,” he said dryly.

“The drama!”

“It’s your sworn enemy, Lily. Think about it. You’ll have to sleep with one eye open just to sleep with them.”

“Benedicto Romero, you are a man of principle.”

“And you’re a romantic. Your eyes say so.”

She blinked at him. It occurred to her that this might be the root cause of her problems. Was she waiting for a proposal in

a hot-air balloon or some other grand gesture to fall in love? A miscommunication device to drum up excitement? She was a

grown woman and no longer believed in fairy tales. However, she believed that a well-timed meet-cute could lead to a happily

ever after. That was the green rolling hill in Scotland she was willing to die on.

“It’s not a bad thing,” he said. “I like that about you.”

“If I tell you something embarrassing, promise not to laugh?”

Ben chucked his book across the bed and sat up to face her, giving her his full attention. “Go on.”

“I’ve never been courted.” His silence gave her pause. He was staring at her as if she’d morphed into an alien before his

eyes. “Don’t look at me like that! It’s not like I’ve never been kissed.”

“Not that there would be anything wrong with that,” he said. “Being asexual is fine, more than fine.”

“I’m not asexual, Ben.”

“Oh, I know it.”

“You promised not to make fun!”

“I made no such promise. Check the transcript.”

“Forget I said anything.”

“Forget that!” he volleyed back. “What do you mean by never been courted ?”

The man was full of questions tonight. “What do you think I mean?”

“No one has ever sent you flowers or bought you chocolates on Valentine’s Day?” he ventured.

“I got chocolates and bodega flowers from this one guy I was really into.”

“That’s kind of sweet.”

“It’s the bare minimum, Ben!”

He sat up straighter. “Obviously, I’m lost in the weeds. Walk me through this. Make me understand.”

Lily shrugged, unsure where to begin. “Depending on what stage you are in life, a friend, classmate, or a coworker slides

into your DMs, ask if you’re free for coffee, drinks, or even a game over the weekend. One thing always leads to another with

no fuss and no grand gestures.” She studied his face for a reaction. What did he make of all this? Was he the type to go all

out when he wanted a woman? “Maybe it’s New York. The bar is in hell.”

“Or maybe you’re just a sweet person who deserves more.”

“What’s your track record?” she asked.

“Not great, I admit,” he said. “All through college, and for years after, I was mainly a bartender. There were a lot of late

nights, last-minute calls. Most of my relationships were fluid, undefined.”

“I’m familiar with the dynamics,” Lily said. She chucked her copy of Spring Fever . They were not going to get much reading done tonight.

“There was this one girl, though. She had raven hair, and I fell hard for her. I wrote her reams of poems. She sent them down

the trash compactor.”

“Rude!”

“She was ten, and I was seven. Someone had to put me in my place.”

Lily folded over, laughing. “The age-gap thing doesn’t always work, does it?”

“No,” he said with a quirky little smile.

To be ten and worshipped by a little Ben Romero! Lily would have changed places with that girl in a second.

“We’re not going to read this book tonight, are we?” Ben asked.

“Not likely,” Lily replied.

“Should we watch a movie?” he suggested.

Nothing on a screen could be more entertaining than this.

“How about you tell me your war stories and I’ll tell you mine,” she said. “Let’s talk about the breakups that broke us.”

“We’d be up all night,” he said.

“Nothing heavy. We’ll keep it to the highlight reel,” she said. “Feel free to change names to protect the innocent. I don’t

mind telling you that one of my exes is named Brad. Don’t hold it against me.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s a financial consultant.”

“I hate him already.”

“Wait,” Lily said. “It gets better.”

“I love a good story.” He inched closer. “Tell me everything.”

“He took me on a few dates to noisy jazz bars and complained he couldn’t hear my laugh over the music. I suggested slower,

quieter dates. We met for ice cream at the park and visited museums after dark. He worked long hours and welcomed the slower

pace. Imagine my surprise when I found out that Brad didn’t have a job. He hadn’t worked in months .”

“If I were to play devil’s advocate for a minute,” Ben said, “I’d point out that women are not kind to broke men.”

“You’re my advocate,” she reminded him.

“How did you learn the truth?” he asked. “Was his platinum card declined at the ice cream shop?”

“We made plans for my birthday, dinner at a new French restaurant I was dying to try. Thinking back, I made those plans, reserved

the table, everything. All he had to do was meet me at the restaurant.”

“He stood you up on your birthday?”

“No,” Lily said. “He ghosted me the day before, ignoring my calls and texts. Like an idiot, I thought he might be planning

a surprise. He wasn’t. When I didn’t hear from him on the day, I gave up and had dinner with my parents. It was hellish.”

“I’m sorry he put you through that,” Ben said gravely. “And I’m sorry I wasted my breath defending him.”

“Aw. Thanks.”

“Did you ever hear from him after that?”

“The feds got him,” Lily said. “He’s under indictment. No time to date, I guess.”

“No fucking way.”

“Yes way.”

“That’s better than the plot of the last book we read.”

“My life is stranger than fiction.” Lily joined her hands with a loud clap. “That’s my sad story. Your turn!”

“Sadly, I’m the villain in my stories.”

“I find that hard to believe. You’re so... good.”

“Lily, you only see the good in people,” he said. “You should work on that.”

Lily cackled. “I’ll tell my therapist!”

“Your laugh is music,” Ben said. “Brad had that right.”

“Liar. It’s maniacal,” Lily said. Flattery would not get him off the hook. “Now, get on with the story.”

“All right,” he said. “There was this one woman I was dating casually.”

Lily reached for her glass of wine on the bedside table. “Here we go!”

“One night, we were together, and I forgot her name at the worst time.”

“Please don’t say it was during sex.”

“It was during sex.”

“Oh, Ben!”

“Her name is Kimberly,” he said. “I kept calling her Cora, a character in a novella I was translating. The project wasn’t

coming together. I was stressed, tired as fuck, and on deadline. I should’ve canceled our date, but I’d canceled twice before.”

“Three strikes, you’re out.”

“Those are the rules.”

Would the women in his life always come second to his love for literature? Lily wondered. Had that played a hand in his most

recent break up? Whatever the case, she would not find out tonight. Ben would not share the story of Belle/Bella, she was

sure of it. Similarly, she wouldn’t bring up Darren. They were even.

“I’ve got ice cream,” he said. “Want to move this conversation to the kitchen?”

“Happily.”

If they were going to talk all night, while skirting the important issues, they might as well have ice cream.