‘I wish my dad was still alive. I’d do anything to keep up my relationship with him if he was.’
As the metro doors shut, the look Sam gives Lexi is heartbreaking– a mixture of sadness and regret. Lexi carries it all the way home.
Lexi Austen’s Discoveries about Sam Dickens
Beautiful piano player
No patience for DC metro
He’s learned his ruthless business skills from his dad
He also desperately doesn’t want to be his dad
He’s less secure than he seems
Terrible rhythm
Worse hand-eye coordination
Very, very green eyes
Chapter Twenty
Lexi shows up eager and early to her second piano lesson, just like she always did on the first and second and sometimes third day of school, before the apathy and the drudge and the realities of homework started to sink in. She’s always been an eager kind of learner. She liked the predictability of school: she worked hard; she got good grades. It bugged her when people who barely did any work somehow aced their way to an A. She liked predictable outcomes; she liked the seeming fairness of it. One of the hardest things about grieving her mum was that it knocked all the energy out of her; she made it through finals at university in a daze, but all her get up and go had got up and gone, and did not return for several years.
Now, she works hard; her bookshop, until recently, has been successful. When that equation is off, something feels viscerally, frustratingly wrong. It took her an embarrassingly long time to understand privilege, to understand that sometimes people get to skip stages in the hard-work-equals-success equation because of something they lucked into, like being born straight and white and relatively wealthy, and even more embarrassingly long to realise that her own equation has a lot of that privilege behind it, the world seemingly designed for her, a right-handed, able-bodied, straight white woman from a nice middle-class family. But still, that hopefulness of the first day of school has stayed with her; that hope that she’s going to learn something new, eventually be good at something new.
Lexi is contemplating how to knock on Sam’s door with both hands full when he opens it; he must have anticipated her arrival. It’s early: the only way they could fit in the lesson today was to meet before work. Lexi isn’t usually a fan of 8a.m., but, weirdly, the thought of seeing Sam had her out of bed after only a couple of pushes of the snooze button and a few minutes of Instagram scrolling. It must be the after-effects of that concussion a couple of months ago; she isn’t sure how else to explain what is happening to her.
‘I brought you coffee,’ she tells him, because miraculously, she got up early enough to swing by Peregrine on the way to Sam’s. Alli had to do a double take: she’s never seen Lexi before 10a.m.
Sam runs his hand through his still-damp hair: he’s probably been to the gym already today. Lexi tries not to think about that, his shallow, rapid breathing, his biceps popping as he lifts weights. She’s betting he’s strong. She’s not the lightest, but she’d be willing to bet the year’s shop takings on his being able to lift her up and fling her onto his sofa bed.
Is it hot in here?she finds herself wondering. Because her face feels hot, and so does her inside leg.
‘Thank you,’ he says, his fingers grazing hers as he takes his latte from Lexi. ‘That’s very thoughtful of you.’
‘Yes, well. Don’t get used to it.’ Lexi isn’t sure the banter will land well with an American. ‘I got it extra hot, so it would survive the journey,’ she adds.
‘Ah, yes. The long schlep from Capitol Hill to Navy Yard.’
‘Itisa long schlep. Metaphorically speaking. I crossed cultural and political divides for you.’
The words just hang there. Maybe he didn’t notice their implication?
‘For me?’ He definitely did notice. ‘That is truly touching.’
‘For my piano lesson, I mean. I’m very dedicated to my craft.’
Sam nods thoughtfully. ‘Ah.’
He takes a sip of his coffee, foam attaching itself to his upper lip. Lexi has an almost irresistible urge to wipe it off with her thumb, but she manages to get it under control and respect his personal space. She doesn’t usually want to get this close to people before 10a.m., but, again: let’s blame the concussion. Or maybe the coffee, since she drank most of hers on the way over. Did she read somewhere that caffeine is an aphrodisiac? Because now that Lexi is inside the flat, fully exposed to Sam’s enthusiastic air conditioning, with the sofa bed he could so easily fling her onto, she’s definitely still feeling hot.
‘I appreciate the sacrifice of your long hike,’ Sam says, playing along. ‘Or at least my piano does.’
Technically, it’s him and his piano making the sacrifice and doing Lexi a favour, but this doesn’t seem like the time to quibble.
Sam sits his latte on top of the piano. Lexi looks at him askance. ‘Is that allowed?’
