Sam laughs. ‘Pay me in books.’
That’s ridiculous on a number of levels. Like Lexi, Sam can get books at the wholesale discount. And like her, he gets dozens of advance review copies for free. He must have an ulterior motive, which is exactly why she probably shouldn’t do it. But, just think: she’d get to snoop around his apartment, find some clues to help her get ahead in the bookshop competition.Thatis obviously why she’s interested. She’s certainly not curious about his bedroom. Or his bed. Obviously not. It’s weird that she’s even thinking about not thinking about that, to be honest. What does his bed have to do with anything? What iswrongwith her? Is she still concussed?
Ugh, she needs to lie down.
Alone.
In a dark room.
And think about her choices. Definitely not anything else.
Chapter Sixteen
When Lexi grabs her phone off her bedside table the next day, there are fifty-six text notifications.
This time, it’s Catherine’s turn for an announcement: she started dating Drew a few weeks before Erin started dating John, so, of course, it stands to reason that her engagement wouldn’t be too far behind. But still, the news kicks her in the stomach even as she starts hummingAnother one bites the dust. Already, Lexi feels herself drifting, unable to take part in some conversations, biting her lip to keep cynical comments from slipping out.
These friends have been her lifeline for years now; she was so grateful to finally find them. What if it all falls apart? Looking for friends in DC is every bit as soul-destroying as the dating apps, and for all the same reasons: the busyness, the ambition, the fact that it feels like, when you first meet someone, they are sizing you up for your potential usefulness to their career. Or you might find someone you really click with, but then it turns out they live across the river, in the suburbs, not in DC at all. She’s tried the expat groups; she’s tried the alumni clubs. And it’s fine, it’s all fine for surface-level conversation, for companionship, even for fun. But what Lexi longs for is to be known, to be understood, to be part of in-jokes and to share history with someone. None of that is possible in an instant. The thought of starting again makes her a little queasy.
She hopes they’ll all stay friends after Erin gets married. But what if they don’t? Living with Erin means that Lexi automatically knows what’s going on, gets included in everything, despite being the lone singleton in the group, and despite not being into the church thing. But when that is gone, then what?
What if Erin takes John to Thanksgiving, and she doesn’t get to go?
What if this changes everything?
What if DC loses its sense of home?
It hasn’t taken Lexi long to spiral into despair over this one announcement, but the spiral is, nevertheless, complete. She needs a distraction from all these emotions, and a plan to defeat Sam’s evil genius is just the thing.
As the agreed day for Lexi’s first piano lesson has approached, she has found herself interested, curious, wanting to learn. Excited about having something in her life that is– whisper it– unrelated to books. Excited, too, about putting this Sam Plan of hers into action. Sure, the turn about the park wasn’t exactly a roaring success, but who can resist a piano recital?
Sam lives in Navy Yard, of course, in a soulless building, lured away from the community and the pastel houses of Capitol Hill by such mindless pleasures as a rooftop pool and an amazing view of historic buildings. Lexi follows someone into the lobby– they obviously didn’t think she looked like a parcel thief or a serial killer, which, on balance, is probably a compliment. She takes the lift up to his floor– the seventh– and long before she’s outside the door to apartment 732, she can hear him play, his fingers dancing on the keys.
Something inside her melts. Lexi hates herself for being so predictable.
She must have walked faster than she usually does, for no particular reason, and she’s early, so she stands outside his door, listening, barely breathing. He might not play with such abandon when she’s in there. This feels like a stolen moment, delicious, like a childhood midnight snack.
At four o’clock exactly, she takes a deep breath and rings the bell. He stops abruptly, and she regrets not waiting a minute or two for him to end the piece. She hears footsteps, and forces herself to breathe like a normal person.
‘I didn’t expect you to be on time,’ Sam says, by way of greeting, pulling the door open and stepping back to let Lexi in. He’s wearing grey fluffy slippers, which she didn’t expect, in the same way that she didn’t expect his family pet to be a labradoodle. She takes the hint and removes her shoes, grateful for her very recent pedicure and her sexy bright red toenails. If toenails can be sexy, that is. Feet are kind of weird, right? Let’s be real.
‘That’s a little unfair,’ Lexi tells him, even though the jab at her lack of punctuality is anythingbutunfair. It’s actually a miracle she’s arrived on time, never mind early. Especially in the middle of the day, with a thousand things going on at the shop. Still, Sam’s neverpersonallyexperienced her lateness. It doesn’t feel like he’s earned the right to tease her about it.
‘Your reputation precedes you,’ he says, and yeah, okay. Lexi doesn’t know who’s been going round complaining about her inability to be on time, but that’s only because it could be just about anyone she’s ever met. So, fair enough.
‘Cute slippers,’ she says in retaliation, and to change the subject away from her flaws.
Sam looks down at them as though he’s never seen them before. ‘Thank you,’ he says, apparently deciding that Lexi is sincere. And truly, there’s nothing wrong with his slippers. He just didn’t strike Lexi as the slippers type.
She stands awkwardly in the middle of the room and does a quick spin with her eyes. Another unexpected thing: he lives in a studio apartment. Obviously, booksellers don’t tend to be swimming in cash– nobody goes into the book business to get rich, with the possible exception of He Who Shall Not Be Named. Hopefully not for the glamour either, or they’d be sorely disappointed. But something about Sam screams money, and so does the Google search Lexi has done: he’s the third Samuel Leonard (Leonard!) Dickens, of the Dickens media empire. It seems odd that he couldn’t spring for a one-bedroom flat, at least.
Lexi’s eyes, inevitably, are drawn to Sam’s sofa, which is also his bed. It’s right there. She could literally jump and land on it. Maybe they could dispense with the whole piano lessons thing and just go straight there? It seems like the more direct route.
But no! No. She doesn’t actually want to, like,doanything with him. Because Samuel Leonard Dickens is totally unsuitable. Standing in front of him, thinking about how soft his hair looks, Lexi had almost forgotten this crucial point.
He gestures towards the sink. ‘First things first,’ he says. ‘Wash your hands.’
She almost laughs; she bites her lip just in time to stop herself. Which is just as well, because Sam confirms he’s serious with a stern nod. Fair enough. Lexi washes her hands before touching books, and people have been known to laugh at her for that, too.
