Page 25 of Only Lovers in the Building

“Don’t get carried away,” Lily said. “I stocked up on cold brew and creamer at the bodega down the street and ordered this cup online.”

“That corner store is no bodega, Lily. I wish it was, but it isn’t. Words have meaning, remember?”

She wanted to argue, but what could she say? The NYC bodega supplied all you needed to start the day, the tastiest egg sandwiches, the richest coffee, the best bagels, along with the daily paper, flowers, a lotto ticket, and a cheap bottle of wine for later. There was truly nothing like it here.

“Next time, come over for coffee,” he said. “Bring your shiny new cup.”

“I can’t keep knocking on your door for daily essentials.”

“Would you like a key?” he asked.

“No, Ben!” she cried. “You can’t offer your key to just anyone! What are you thinking?”

“You’re not just anyone,” he said. “As long as you’re my neighbor, I’ll make you coffee.”

“With ice?”

“With whatever you’d like.”

With that promise, Ben smoothly climbed out of the pool while she tried hard not to look. Still, her imagination offered her everything she did not see. The way his muscles pulled tight against the weight of the water. The way the water poured down his back. When he came close, a blue towel draped around his neck, her fingertips tingled she wanted so badly to reach out and trace the outline of his tattoos.

“Can we talk?” he asked. “I scrolled your social media.”

The day had come for her to answer for her random social media posts, but she was not without her defenses. “I’ve done some research on you, too.”

“Research? All I did was scroll your social media. That doesn’t count as research.”

“It’s not my fault you’re not prepared, Counselor.”

He scooped up her tote and dropped it onto a chair. “Should we spend some time reading or get down to it?”

Her insides were corroding with curiosity. She couldn’t possibly wait any longer to ask the questions that had kept her up half the night. “Let’s get straight to it.”

“I like your style.”

They sat shoulder to shoulder at the pool’s edge on the towel he’d rolled out for them to share, feet in the water. The sun was peaking up over the building’s crowned roof. Lily slipped on her sunglasses. “I’m ready.”

“What’ve you got in terms of research?” he asked.

“Interview transcripts.”

“That’s it?” he said. “Good luck with that. I’ve lied in every interview I’ve ever given.”

“Don’t worry. I’m working on getting your arrest record.”

He smiled. “You’re funny.”

“Funny in a good way or what?” she said, poorly mimicking Joe Pesci.

“In a brilliant way.”

“Too bad I have to bring the heat now. Are you ready?”

“Ready.”

“Your father was a presidential inaugural poet. That’s major. Were you at the inauguration? I got to see my dad sworn onto New York’s Second District Court, and that’s nowhere near as cool.”

He shook his head. “I was nowhere near that event.”