Page 14 of Only Lovers in the Building

Chapter Four

Ben knocked and called to her from the hall. “May I come in?”

“No!” Lily cried.

She lacked sufficient insight into her own psyche to interact with her neighbor in any way. What had gotten into her? She was spiraling. This was not a good look for a fun and fabulous thirty-year-old.

“Come on, Lily.”

“No!”

There was no need to drag this out. She knew full well where this was headed. In the last twenty-four hours, she’d become his Crazy Next-door Neighbor. Everybody had one; she’d lived in the city long enough to know. Gradually, he’d start avoiding her, timing his comings and goings to keep from running into her in the hall or joining her in an elevator.

Ben knocked again. This time the door, which wasn’t locked or even shut properly, swung open. There he stood, filling her doorway just as he had his own a moment earlier. His demeanor did not match the moment. His face was strained to control his laughter.

“Why are you here when your date is waiting?” she snapped.

“Date?” He ran a hand through his hair. When left to its own devices, it was thick, curly, and a little wild. “She’s my cousin, Roxanna. Honestly, she’s more like a sister.”

“Your . . . cousin?”

“Yes.”

If leaping to conclusions were an Olympic sport, she’d win gold.

“Go back,” she insisted. “It’s rude to leave her alone.”

“I wouldn’t worry about her,” he said. “She’s raiding my refrigerator for day-old pasta. She likes to hang out at my place before her shift at the bar.”

“She’s a bartender, too?”

“No.” A pause. “She’s the bartender. I covered for her last night because her baby—God, there are so many things to clear up.”

Lily stood in the middle of her living room, feeling helpless, her phone and hairbrush still clutched in her hands like weapons. She set them down on the nearest surface and capitulated. “Come in.”

Ben stepped inside and gingerly shut the door. He looked at her for a long while, saying nothing, until the silence became unbearable.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I’m Ben,” he said. “Professor, literary translator, occasional part-time bartender.”

“You could’ve said any of those things last night or this morning,” she said. “You had me thinking you were working your way through grad school.”

“You liked the bartender,” he said. “Besides, that’s who you met last night. Did you really want to hear my PhD thesis?”

Lily shrugged. “Why not?”

“Most people’s eyes glaze over when I tell them what I do,” he said. “Maybe you’re the exception. Forgive me?”

Who was she to judge? Miami was truly the multiverse: no one was who they claimed they were, not even herself.

She sighed. “Of course . . . And I’m sorry I jumped all over you. All I want for this summer is to chill by the pool and read, not pick fights with my neighbor. This is not who I am, not really. My life has been stagnant for so long. I hoped a change in scene might work, but it’s painfully clear I can’t function outside of my daily routines. I’ve never felt so scattered, so insecure.”

“Who are you, really?” he asked.

Her answer mirrored his. “I’m Lily, a failed corporate lawyer from New York who quit her job on a whim and booked an Airbnb in Miami for the summer to avoid going home and dealing with the fallout.”

He seemed to take that in without judgment. “Nice to meet you, Lily.”