Page 70 of Only Lovers in the Building

She let out a shriek, swallowed a mouthful of suds, and spit it up, coughing. “I can hear you from across the hall!” he said, laughing.

“Ben, you’re a prude!”

“I’m no prude. It just came out of nowhere.”

Lily couldn’t respond. She kept hacking like a cat, coughing up suds.

“Are you okay? I’ll come over.”

“I’m fine,” she assured him after a breath. “Also, I told you this one was spicy. You were warned.”

“They hardly knew each other. Those moves take trust, and trust takes time.”

“The element of danger makes it sexy.”

“Not to me.”

Lily wondered, but couldn’t bring herself to ask, if this difference in approach had set them on the wrong course. That first night in the elevator, she’d thought it sexy and daring to kiss him. He, on the other hand, was just trying to get her name right.

“Anyway,” she said, “I’m at the part where the bus breaks down in the middle of nowhere. They check into a bed-and-breakfast for the night.”

“Spoiler,” he said. “There’s just one bed.”

In the morning, Ben left a note at her door.

Cloudy, high chance of rain. Let’s stay in. Come over for coffee. B.

Smiling to herself, she put the note away and went to knock on his door. He opened it for her, looking warm and soft. His gaze slid down her body, taking in her bathing suit and matching sarong. “Were you really going to sit at the pool in this weather?”

“This is a bright sunny day in Manhattan,” she said. But the view from his kitchen window showed menacingly dark clouds.

He drew her in by the knot of the sarong. “The pool will be there tomorrow. We can skip a day and stay indoors.”

“Sounds cozy.”

It was cozier still when the aroma of coffee filled the small apartment. Ben made them toast and warmed up the pastries Roxanna had brought over from a Cuban bakery as a thank-you for his help. He pulled the blanket off the bed and draped it over her legs. She thanked him and added a proper throw blanket to her running list of purchases.

“We’re knocking this out today,” Ben said. “I can’t stand to hold onto a book for too long.”

“That’s where we’re different,” she said. “I like to linger on every page.”

She was collecting their differences like her brother collected vintage marbles, each one cracked or flawed in some way.

Under the blanket, Ben curled a hand around her ankle. “Linger on your own time,” he said. “Let’s get this done.”

He got it done in under two hours. At noon, he pressed his lips to her knee and declared, “The End!”

Lily had two chapters to go. She banished him from the couch, curled up, and continued reading, flipping the pages until she, too, had reached the end. Triumphant, she tossed the paperback in the air. “Done!”

Ben was at his desk, sifting through mail. Without looking up, he said, “Rapid fire. What’s your rating?”

“Five!”

He met her eyes. “Same.”

“Really?” She came to sit at the edge of the sturdy oak desk. “You weren’t put off by all the spice?”

“I told you, I’m not a prude,” he said. “I’ve got my kinks. Should we get into it?”