Page 26 of Only Lovers in the Building
After a day at the beach with Kylie, Lily returned home to wash the sand out of her hair. From the shower, she replied to
a text from her brother and left the phone on the ledge in case Patrick had more to say about his efforts to placate their
mother. He didn’t, but her phone buzzed with a FaceTime request from Ben, who was back from an interview with the local public
“Are we still on for tomorrow?” he asked.
“Yes, we are.” They were to resume poolside reading in the morning. The goal was to finish Around Midnight , post a review, and head out to lunch. Lily wanted to tie up loose ends before they started on the podcast next week. “How
did the interview go?”
“Grueling.”
She massaged her scalp, working the shampoo to a lather. “Let me guess. They mostly asked about your dad.”
“You guessed right.” He was at his desk, sifting papers. “Um, Lily... ? Qué haces ? ”
“Washing my hair.”
“Need a hand?”
“I can manage, thanks.”
“I see.”
She paused, frowned. “How much can you see?”
“Not enough. Step back from the camera.”
“You’re adorable.”
“Not as much as you.” He held up his copy of Around Midnight . “How far along are you with this? Did you get to the fun stuff?”
“Not yet. Soon, though,” Lily said. They’d read the first chapters together; since then, she hadn’t picked it up. She wouldn’t
admit it to anyone, but now that life was more interesting than fiction, her need to lose herself in books had waned.
“You need to catch up,” he said.
“Why? Was it good for you?”
“I don’t know.” Ben moved from his desk to his bed. He grabbed a pillow and propped it under his head. “I was like... he’s
putting his cock where?”
She let out a shriek, swallowed a mouthful of suds, and spit it up, coughing. “I can hear you from across the hall!” he said,
laughing.
“Ben, you’re a prude!”
“I’m no prude. It just came out of nowhere.”
Lily couldn’t respond. She kept hacking like a cat, coughing up suds.
“Are you okay? I’ll come over.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him after a breath. “Also, I told you this one was spicy. You were warned.”
“They hardly knew each other. Those moves take trust, and trust takes time.”
“The element of danger makes it sexy.”
“Not to me.”
Lily wondered, but couldn’t bring herself to ask, if this difference in approach had set them on the wrong course. That first night in the elevator, she’d thought it sexy and daring to kiss him. He, on the other hand, was just trying to get her name right.
“Anyway,” she said, “I’m at the part where the bus breaks down in the middle of nowhere. They check into a bed-and-breakfast
for the night.”
“Spoiler,” he said. “There’s just one bed.”
In the morning, Ben left a note at her door.
Cloudy, high chance of rain. Let’s stay in. Come over for coffee. B.
Smiling to herself, she put the note away and went to knock on his door. He opened it for her, looking warm and soft. His
gaze slid down her body, taking in her bathing suit and matching sarong. “Were you really going to sit at the pool in this
weather?”
“This is a bright sunny day in Manhattan,” she said. But the view from his kitchen window showed menacingly dark clouds.
He drew her in by the knot of the sarong. “The pool will be there tomorrow. We can skip a day and stay indoors.”
“Sounds cozy.”
It was cozier still when the aroma of coffee filled the small apartment. Ben made them toast and warmed up the pastries Roxanna
had brought over from a Cuban bakery as a thank-you for his help. He pulled the blanket off the bed and draped it over her
legs. She thanked him and added a proper throw blanket to her running list of purchases.
“We’re knocking this out today,” Ben said. “I can’t stand to hold onto a book for too long.”
“That’s where we’re different,” she said. “I like to linger on every page.”
She was collecting their differences like her brother collected vintage marbles, each one cracked or flawed in some way.
Under the blanket, Ben curled a hand around her ankle. “Linger on your own time,” he said. “Let’s get this done.”
He got it done in under two hours. At noon, he pressed his lips to her knee and declared, “The End!”
Lily had two chapters to go. She banished him from the couch, curled up, and continued reading, flipping the pages until she,
too, had reached the end. Triumphant, she tossed the paperback in the air. “Done!”
Ben was at his desk, sifting through mail. Without looking up, he said, “Rapid fire. What’s your rating?”
“Five!”
He met her eyes. “Same.”
“Really?” She came to sit at the edge of the sturdy oak desk. “You weren’t put off by all the spice?”
“I told you, I’m not a prude,” he said. “I’ve got my kinks. Should we get into it?”
“Get into what... exactly?”
“The review. Why? What were you thinking?”
“The review! Obviously.” She picked up a brass letter opener from the desktop and slid a finger along the dull blade. “But
let’s order lunch first.”
“Agreed.”
When the food arrived, they migrated to her apartment. He brought over beer, and she opened cartons of hummus, falafel, and
couscous. It was still drizzling out. They talked and ate. After lunch, Lily got her iPad and opened the BookTap app. “Let’s
do it.”
Ben had a notebook with him, but no pen. Lily pointed to her nightstand. “Check the top drawer. There should be one there.
I’ve been journaling in the morning.”
“Ah. Healing your inner child?”
“Nope,” she answered. “Let’s leave that girl alone. She’s been through enough.”
“If you say so.”
Lily watched him rummage through her drawer for a second, then it clicked. Before she could yell for him to stop, Ben had found the ballpoint pen lifted from the resort and every note he’d ever written her, including the one left at her door this morning.
He turned to her, grinning. “Lily! You’ve kept them.”
“It’s nothing,” she blurted. “I meant to toss them out.”
“Should I?” He gestured to the trash can in the kitchen, only steps away.
“No,” she said, tapping blindly on the iPad screen. “I’ll recycle them at the end of the summer. It’s more efficient that
way.”
“Are you sure? It’s no trouble for me to dispose of these.”
That grin! If only she could slap it off his face.
“Put them back, Ben.”
“As you wish.” He dropped the notes into the open drawer and slid it shut. Then he joined her on the couch. “Do you reread
them at night?”
“Ben! If you don’t stop...”
He doubled over with laughter. “You don’t know how happy this makes me. You keep my notes. You treasure them.”
Lily looked up to the ceiling, which could use some dusting. “Yes, I treasure them,” she said through clenched teeth. “Girls
don’t get notes every day. It’s sweet.”
“I’ve said it before. You’re a romantic.”
He said it like some might say You’re a Gemini or something equally problematic or disturbing.
“What gave it away?” she asked. “My Jane Austen fan club membership?”
“Jane was a realist, not a romantic. We can get into that another day if you’d like, but you are the real deal.”
He had a point about Miss Austen: she knew when to rein it in. A woman with no prospects had to settle for what she could
get, and there was no guaranteed happy ending.
“Once I get back home, I’m checking myself in.” She had to rid herself of this disease.
“Why?” he asked. “It’s not a bad thing.”
“It’s delusional,” she said. “Even my friends who fall in love and get married are, to some degree, more clear-eyed about
the venture. I’ve been to the weddings! The anxiety is palpable. So much can go wrong, and they know it. They’re not flinging
joyfully into the future.”
“You want to fling into the future with someone?”
“You know what I mean.” She didn’t have the flowery language, but he should get her point.
“I know your heart, or I’m trying to,” he said. “If you want to fling into your future, no one should stop you. It’s your
birthright.”
“And yours?”
“Me?” he said, brows knit. “No. I don’t think so.”
Lily sighed. “We’re so different, you and I.”
“Us?” he said, confused.
“You read fast. I don’t.”
“Yes, but we’re reading the same books. That’s what counts.”
“I’m impulsive and make stupid mistakes. You don’t.”
“I don’t see that as a problem.”
This line of examination was going to lead them straight to trouble. She returned her attention to the iPad on her lap. “This
review isn’t going to write itself.”
“No,” he said. “It’s not.”
“Plus, I really think we should take some time to outline our first podcast episode.”
“Outline? Don’t suck the joy out of it, Lily. That sounds like work.”
“How do you prep your lectures?”
“I don’t. A few notes, that’s all.”
“Oh, I see. This is going to be fun.”
“Trust me. It’s going to be fine. Now, let’s knock this out.”
They sat, shoulder to shoulder, like an old married couple, passing the iPad back and forth, finessing the synopsis. Ben first jotted his thoughts on a scrap of paper before typing a final draft into the app. Lily confirmed her five-star rating and added a final note.
BOOKTAP @LegalLyon in collaboration with @Ben_Romero
AROUND MIDNIGHT , by Charlotte Mitchel
Couple: Liz and Austin
Trope: one-night stand/one bed
Synopsis: Solo travelers Liz and Austin meet on a tour of central Italy. Liz, an artist, has recently lost her mother to illness.
Austin, a winemaker, is coping with the aftermath of divorce. These hastily planned trips were intended to give each one time
to focus inward. Instead, they find each other. On the tour bus, they share snacks and snippets of their lives. When the bus
breaks down in the middle of nowhere, the group checks into a B and B for the night. Naturally, there are not enough rooms
to accommodate the group. As on the Titanic , women and children take priority. Liz and Austin pair up. Their suite is spacious but, no surprise here, there is just one
bed. And the things they get up to in that bed have made Ben blush. I would’ve clutched my late great-aunt’s pearls if I had
them with me.
Around Midnight is a scorcher from the beginning to end. Add the lush Italian countryside, Aperol and limoncello, espresso poured over a
scoop of gelato, a serving of pasta, ripe tomatoes drizzled in olive oil, and what you have is a tale of sexual exploration
and emotional liberation under the Tuscan sun.
Lily’s Rating: 5 stars
Ben’s Rating: 5 stars
P.S. We’d like to take this opportunity to share big news! Some of you have suggested we start a YouTube channel. However,
we’ve been offered to host a podcast over the summer, and that’s where you’ll find us. Follow Pop Shop wherever you get your
podcasts for our discussions on modern love and the romance genre. Our next selection is Boss Babe by Gloria Hernandez, a sapphic romance with Latine rep. With love, L & B
That night, before bed, Lily found a new hiding place for Ben’s notes. Then, with the lights turned low, she slipped on headphones
to listen to his latest radio interview. She had bookmarked it for a night like this, when she was feeling restless and needed
to hear his voice.
Your local public radio station from Palm Beach to Key West presents Sunday Matinee , a news and culture program, with host Grayson Mills.
Grayson Mills welcomes acclaimed literary translator, Benito Romero.
GM: In 2001, your father, Cuban poet Sabato Romero, delivered the inaugural poem. In his memoir, the president recounts advocating
for a popular country musician. “Anyone but a poet!” the president writes. It was at the first lady’s insistence that he got
the call.
br: As I understand it, she’s a champion of literacy.
GM: The president held out for as long as he could before relenting. Because of this, your father didn’t have much time to prepare.
Yet he rose to the occasion and cemented his legacy. What will yours be?
br: I don’t think about legacies. Not my father’s and certainly not my own. That’s a very calculated way to live. I seek meaning in the work at hand. When it’s over, I move on to the next thing.
GM: Your literary translations are greeted with much acclaim, which is unusual. What’s your methodology?
Surely, such a dry topic of legacies and methodologies shouldn’t get Lily so wet, but it did. She reached for one more thing
she’d stuffed in the back of her nightstand drawer. The miniature vibrator she never traveled without. Sleek, discreet, it
was the size of her palm and generally got the job done. Impatient, she switched it on and slipped it between her legs. Breath
shallow, body humming, she heard Ben’s voice still pouring out of her headphones, now at the foot of the bed.
“I don’t rush it,” he said. “I linger on every word. When it’s right, I know it’s right. And it’s the best feeling in the world.”