Page 7 of Only Lovers in the Building

The next morning, Ben presented her with a coffee and a copy of Blurred Lines , picked up the night before at a local bookstore. Affection bubbled up inside her. Quickly, she used her iron will to pop

those bubbles, putting an end to that.

“Thanks, neighbor.”

“You’re welcome.” He grabbed his keys off a hook. “Elevator or stairs?”

“You’d get in an elevator with me?” she asked.

“I’ll take my chances,” he said. “How was happy hour?”

“Postponed until later today,” she replied. “Noah couldn’t make it. He left a message with your cousin. Are you bartending

tonight?”

“No,” he answered. “I’m grading papers.”

Lily stomped on the sprouting weed of disappointment. “Ah... sounds like fun!”

“I’m teaching a seminar this summer. It’s short but intense.”

“Well, we can’t all be on sabbatical,” she said.

“I envy you,” he said. “If you only knew how much.”

They rode to the pool deck without incident.

Ben pulled close two lounge chairs and adjusted the yellow sun umbrella for maximum shade.

Then he peeled off his T-shirt, balled it up, and stuffed it into a duffel bag.

Lily stole a glance, then another... and another.

He might be a scholar, but his body told the story of another kind of life.

His back was broad, chiseled, and seared by the sun.

He did not have the regular assortment of tattoos: daggers on forearms, barbed wire around wrists, requisite angel, wings outstretched over biceps.

Instead, vines crawled up his forearms, flowers bloomed on his chest, and a flock of tiny black birds soaring up his spine.

Was that all? Were there more concealed somewhere?

The little birds held her attention. She wanted to follow their flight with her fingertips.

He caught her staring. She blushed but didn’t look away. Lily no longer felt awkward and jittery around him, which was a minor

miracle that deserved its own holiday.

She stripped off her cotton button-up shirt. Underneath, she wore the most provocative of her swimsuit collection, a navy

tankini that she was going to get rid of the minute her online orders arrived. Ben didn’t steal glances at her newly unveiled

body, he stared with keen, observant eyes. He could see right down to her last cell of insecurity, and yet there was no judgment,

only warmth and admiration.

She stretched out next to him in her chair. “We should set some ground rules.”

“I’m listening,” he said.

“This is a romance book club, so let’s be clear on what a romance is and is not.”

“I don’t need a primer, but go on.”

“A romance is not a tragic love story. We won’t read Wuthering Heights or Madame Bovary .”

“Now I’m disappointed,” he deadpanned.

“Rule number two,” she continued. “There’s no such thing as highbrow or lowbrow. We’ll read trad, indie, and everything in

between. No judgment.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. People will judge regardless,” he said. “I promise if you pick up Tolstoy, someone will tell you to read Chekhov, instead.”

“I won’t be picking up either,” Lily said. “Not this summer. I’m fried.”

“How did you lose your job?” he asked.

She hadn’t lost her job. It wasn’t a puppy or a cat. She could find her way back to it if she wanted to. She knew exactly

who to call, whose ass to kiss. Only, she didn’t want to. That was the crux of the problem, wasn’t it? She didn’t want to

go back and hadn’t begun to explore how to move forward.

He brushed the back of her hand with his. “We don’t have to talk about it now.”

Lily didn’t want to talk about it ever. There was something to leaving the past, even the very recent past, firmly behind

you.

“It’s just so boring.” She raised herself onto an elbow. “Let’s talk about you,” she said. “You’re a board-certified genius.

I’m impressed.”

“That’s not a thing,” he said, laughing.

“You won a MacArthur!”

“I’m the flavor of the month. It doesn’t mean anything, Lily.”

“In case the meaning is lost on you, let’s review the criteria.” She whipped out her phone and read from the source material.

“The fellows are selected for the exceptional work they’ve already done, their ability to do more, and — ”

“It’s just words,” he said.

“Words have meaning,” she reminded him. “Tell me about your exceptional work, past, present, and future.”

“It’s just so boring.”

He used her own line against her, a genius move.

Then he did something that outraged her. He folded back the cover of the paperback, creasing the edge. It was a striking cover,

too. The story was set in Chicago. The city’s skyline extended from the front to the back.

“Why would you do that?” Lily cried.

“Do what?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Fold the cover like that! It’ll never lie flat again.”

“Lie flat? It won’t be in one piece by the time I’m done. I might even rip it off and use it as a bookmark.”

This, as far as she was concerned, was the first red flag. She should’ve known Ben was too good to be true.

He pulled a pen from his bag. “I mark them up, too.”

“No!” she gasped.

“Oh yes.”

Lily pinched the bridge of her nose. She could feel a migraine coming on.

“Tell me your book kinks,” he said. “Don’t you have any?”

“I stamp them,” she replied.

“Spank them? You’re into that?”

“Keep this up and I’ll spank you !”

In the back of her mind, Lily wondered, Is this banter? Good banter was the product of novels, plays, movies. In real life,

men didn’t engage in repartee. They said things like Hey or What’s up? and the oh-so-popular So can I call you sometime? Other times, they sent random texts in the dead of night with an urgent question: U up??

Lily had started reading romance at the tender age of twelve over her parents’ objections. Her father was dismayed by her

taste in books. Her mother worried the steamy novels might give her ideas . They did. Word play was just as good as foreplay. Now that it was happening, now that she’d found a sparring partner, Lily’s

mind went blank. Or was she reading too much into this? It was a sunny day. They were by the pool, poking fun. Either way,

she ought to know for sure.

In the real world, in New York, she wouldn’t have gone so long without asking a man some pertinent questions. Though Miami

had revealed itself to be an alternate universe, this was no reason to go rogue.

“Are you single?” she asked.

Ben had already started with the prologue. He looked up from his book, startled by the question. If he hoped she’d take it back, she wouldn’t. She might have jumped to conclusions where Roxanna was concerned, but that didn’t mean Ben wasn’t hiding a girlfriend somewhere. Men these days were crafty.

“Technically, I am.”

Lily turned away abruptly and flipped open her book. However, there was no unseeing it, the huge red flag unfurling, flapping noisily in the morning breeze.

“You either are or you aren’t,” she said.

“Yes, but you forget the undefinable gray area,” he said.

She wanted to forget this conversation. “We should start reading.”

Lily had no interest in hearing what he had to say. It was always the same. His girlfriend was either away on an extended

trip, or they were on an official break, or they were one of those on again–off again couples, running hot and cold.

He sat up and turned to her. “You’ve judged and sentenced me without a preliminary hearing. Is that how the judicial system

works?”

“You’re not on trial! Being technically single is not a crime, last I checked.”

“I’d like to say a few words in my defense.”

“Fine.” She sat up to face him. “Go ahead. Just don’t perjure yourself.”

“I am single,” he said. “That’s the truth. A relationship ended, and it was painful. It’s only been a week.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. It’s been a wild week.”

In the back of her mind, Lily did the math. One week was nothing when it came to a breakup. You needed a month to see clearly

again and six months to a year to feel like your old self.

Her phone rang. This time, she checked the caller ID before silencing it. It was her brother, Patrick. He’d called yesterday when she was at the pool with Noah. She couldn’t go too long without calling him back. Their parents were likely driving him crazy. Even so, she tucked the phone away.

He took in her furtive movements and asked, “What about you? Is someone waiting back home?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

Had she raised a red flag of her own? Dodging phone calls was shady behavior, for sure. In her defense, she wasn’t hiding

a man, but her melodramatic family. “I’ve been single a while. I’ll stay single until I find what I want.”

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I have no clue.”

She knew what she didn’t want, which was to not repeat the same old mistakes. No way was she getting involved with a man fresh

out of a relationship. Two weeks in and he’d ask for space , claiming that he couldn’t get too involved because he had inner work to do.

Even as far back as when she was dating Darren, Lily had trouble imagining their future. He was a Midwesterner, born and raised

in Cleveland. He’d come to the East Coast for college but had no intention of staying. He studied podiatry and would take

over his father’s practice someday. Lily, pre-law and political science, born and raised in Long Island, did not see where

she fit in his plan. Now, thanks to Instagram, she didn’t have to rely on imagination. The images were there for her to peruse

at will. They would have a lakeside wedding with a hundred or so guests. Darren, heavier than she remembered, hairline receding,

would nonetheless look handsome in his tuxedo. He would tear up when she showed up in her wedding gown for a First Look moment

captured by their photographer. He would vow to be forever by her side. They’d honeymoon in South Carolina. Who wouldn’t want

that? It was all so wholesome. Why had she thrown it away?

“What do you want in general?” he asked. “No need to get specific.”