Piper didn't see much of Alex over the next month. She seemed to spend a night or two at her apartment, but for the most part, she was absent. Larry had shoved a note under her door the third night of her living next door, inviting her to dinner. He left his and Piper's cell phone numbers on the note, asking her to text or call either one of them to make dinner arrangements. Neither one had heard from her since the day she moved in.

Six weeks later, Piper came home to find Alex on her porch, leaning over near the door.

"Fuck!" was all she heard as she climbed the four steps to her own apartment.

"Something wrong?" Piper asked, bending over the railing.

Alex looked up, screwdriver in one hand and a gold, metal device in the other. "I'm trying to put in a new lock, but I think it requires three hands."

"Want some help?" the blonde asked.

Alex eyed her and pushed up her glasses with the back of her wrist. "You know how to install a lock?"

"No," she admitted. "But I can provide the third hand."

"Then get over here."

Piper walked back down her stairs and up the four steps to Alex's stoop. She couldn't help but notice the purple bra strap peeking out of Alex's white tank top. Her jeans were ripped at the knees, and the blonde wondered if she'd purchased them like that or just owned them for many years.

Piper picked up the directions for installing the lock and studied them for a moment before turning to her neighbor. "I'll hold it in place if you screw it."

"If I had a dollar for every time I heard that, I'd be a rich woman." Alex smirked.

The blonde shoved the gold deadbolt into the hole of the door and didn't acknowledge the other woman's crude statement. Smelling her—all chamomile and mint—was enough of an assault on her senses. "Cheap humor. Is that what you're into?"

The dark haired woman put a screw in the hole and brushed Piper's hand accidently. "Among other things." She shoved the screwdriver into the notch and made quick work on four screws while Piper looked on.

Piper adjusted the mechanism as Alex continued her work. "You've been gone a lot."

"You've noticed," the brunette stated.

"It's pretty obvious when you're home." She scratched her forehead with her free hand.

The brunette looked up, still carefully holding the screwdriver in the notch. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're not exactly the quietest neighbor I've ever had," she admitted.

"I wasn't aware that I was living next to a convent," Alex huffed. "Besides, I've kept my music down at night and in the morning. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Tip toe and whisper?"

She had a point, Piper admitted to herself. She simply didn't want to like her new neighbor, and this was an easy way of shunning her.

"Larry and I go to sleep early and we wake up early. Just keep the noise to a minimum."

"Noted." Alex finished installing the lock and stood, cracking her back. "Thank you for your help."

"You're welcome." She handed her the directions. "Why did you need a new lock anyway?"

"Ex-girlfriend issues," the brunette admitted with a sigh. "If you see a crazy lady with short, brown hair and a scowl on her face, call the cops."

"Seriously?" Piper's eyebrows might as well have touched her hairline.

Alex nodded. "Her name is Sylvie, and she has…anger management issues."

"Terrific." She folded her arms. "I'm living next door to a loud lesbian with scary ex-girlfriends."

"Only one scary ex-girlfriend." She smirked.

"Please keep your drama out of our lives." Piper headed down the steps. "I'm serious, Alex. We have to live next door to each other, so let's try to be respectful."

"Not a problem." When Piper was back at her own door, Alex spoke again. "Oh hey, your boyfriend invited me to dinner."

The blonde lowered her head and closed her eyes, damning Larry for extending the invitation without consulting with her. "What can I say? He's a nice guy."

"Does tomorrow night work?"

Piper regarded her neighbor whose smug face wasn't nearly as annoying as it was attractive, which pissed her off even more. "I'll have to check with Larry."

"Let me know what I can bring. I have a bottle of 1987 Latour that'll go with just about anything," she said, both hands squeezing the railing.

Piper noticed the way her triceps flexed and quickly looked away. "Ok, bye."

"Thanks for your help," she called.

When Piper was about to respond, the brunette was no longer standing there. She'd vanished inside and Piper was left standing there with a new and unwelcomed image burned into her brain. She wouldn't admit to herself that her new neighbor was downright sexy, but the way her body reacted didn't require a mental acknowledgement of that fact.


The next night, Larry brought home a roasted chicken, a tray of macaroni and cheese and a Caesar salad from Whole Foods. He'd texted Alex about bringing a dessert, but Piper had a cheesecake in the refrigerator just in case her neighbor flaked.

The brunette showed up at 7 p.m. in a pair of tight jeans and a royal blue, scoop-neck blouse. Her heeled sandals made her over six feet tall. She presented a bottle of wine to Larry, and she gave Piper a box of mini-molten lava cakes from Bess' Bakery—one of the best in the city. Larry took the dessert and wine into the kitchen, leaving the women alone.

"Hello, again," Alex said with a closed lipped smile.

"Hi." Piper shut the door and escorted Alex into the living room. "Any sightings of your deranged ex-girlfriend?"

"The coast is clear." She eyed the blonde up and down. "You clean up nicely."

Piper pulled at her white linen sundress and looked at her own bare feet. Her hair was in a sort of ponytail, but much of it was falling out, tickling her shoulder. "Thanks," she replied, giving Alex a quick once-over and swallowing hard. "So do you."

The dark haired woman smoothed her hands down her thighs, and Piper followed the slow movement as her hands traveled back up and her thumbs hooked in her belt loops. The blonde was thankful for Larry's interruption with three wine glasses and a bottle tucked under each arm.

"Red or white?" He asked.

Alex smirked when Larry entered the room, and Piper assumed it was due to how flushed her cheeks became when she was interrupted from staring at the dark haired woman's body.

"I prefer red," the brunette stated.

"Red's fine," Piper replied swiftly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Would you excuse me for a moment?"

She headed upstairs and locked herself in the bathroom, finding it hard to breathe. She splashed cold water on her face and looked at herself in the mirror. What the fuck is happening to me?

"Piper, you ok?" Larry yelled from downstairs.

"Yeah, I'll be right down." She dabbed her face with a towel and hurriedly put on a bit of lip gloss before making her way back downstairs. With each step she took, she reminded herself to breathe and exhale slowly.

Piper was careful to avoid looking directly at her neighbor throughout dinner. She glanced her way several times, but never looked her straight in the eyes. She allowed Larry to carry the bulk of the surface-level conversation with Alex until the dishes were cleared and she roamed around the living room, looking at the books on their singular, tall bookcase.

"Someone's a fan of British literature," she commented, swallowing a sip of Syrah.

"I like American equally," Piper replied, wiping the table with a damp rag. "I just happen to have more British stuff down here."

She picked up a volume of Jane Eyre. "You seem to prefer one Bronte sister over the others."

"Charlotte's the most talented of the three." The blonde stood somewhat awkwardly at the other end of the bookshelf, still not convinced that she didn't hate her new neighbor. "I don't know how people get them confused. Their writing styles are completely different."

"But Emily has more memorable one-liners," the brunette contributed, stuffing the novel back on the shelf and picking up another. "There's a startling lack of press for Agnes Grey. I think Anne wrote the best of all of the Bronte novels combined."

Larry watched the women volley their knowledge of the Bronte clan, unable to add any of his own observations.

"Her older sisters stole her thunder." Piper took a sip of wine, wondering if Alex's literary dexterity was as sophisticated as she portrayed. "Though I admit The Tenant of Wildfell Hall was completely underwhelming."

The brunette smirked and was about to comment on Anne Bronte's novel, but was interrupted by her host.

"On that note," Larry announced, standing from his perch on the arm of the sofa. "I'm going to turn in for the night. I have to bring Dave to the airport at 4 a.m."

"Can't Emily bring him?" Piper enquired.

He put his hands on his hips. "And what do you suggest they do with the baby? Leave her at home in the crib or pack her into the car, screaming bloody murder?"

"Right. It's hard to remember they have a child," Piper conceded, rolling her eyes at the thought of Larry's frat boy best friend actually becoming a father.

He gave her a peck on the lips, and Piper noticed Alex look away.

"I'm glad you could make it, Alex. Let's do it again sometime." He waved at the dark haired woman, and then turned his attention to his girlfriend. "You calling it a night, Pipes?"

She glanced at Alex, who was busy leafing through Like-Minded, Piper's recently purchased book about externalism and moral philosophy.

Piper considered following her boyfriend to bed, but her curiosity was piqued by the dark haired woman. "I think I'll stay up a little longer." After all, she reasoned, it wasn't every day that she got to discuss literature and philosophy with someone whose tastes could very well be similar to or polar opposite from her own. Either way, she looked forward to finding out.

Over dinner Alex had shared that she worked in international business and traveled all over the world. She didn't discuss the products she sold, but Piper was instantly fascinated by her neighbor's adventurous life. She seemed to have a comment or question on the ready for every single topic at dinner, which left the blonde intrigued by this woman's story. Still, Piper's guard was up, ready to call bullshit the moment Alex's façade crumbled.

"Past your bedtime?" Alex asked once Larry was out of earshot.

"It's a Friday night." Piper grinned. "No bedtime on weekends."

A brief moment of silence descended upon them, and the blonde took that time to refill their wine glasses.

"Hume or Kant?" the brunette asked, revealing the cover of the book she'd been leafing through.

Piper folded her arms, carefully balancing the base of her wine glass on her left arm. "Moral law is given by rational agents to themselves in virtue of their rationality."

Alex shook her head and huffed. "Fucking Kant existentialist."

"Don't tell me you haven't read Simone de Beauvoir. She's an existentialist, too, you know." She sat on the sofa, not leaning all the way back.

"True, but I see her more as one of the first influential feminists in France." Alex lifted her glass to her mouth. "Until fucking Sartre came along."

"No Exit is one of my favorites," Piper admitted.

Alex's body rounded on her. "Now there's the very definition of a frustrated philosopher."

The conversation continued for another three hours and two more bottles of wine, each woman naming a philosopher or writer and the other listing reasons why that person didn't deserve her praise. Clearly, Piper thought, the brunette was well-read and had firm opinions about why she liked the authors she liked. Alex wasn't dismissive though—she seemed to listen carefully to Piper the longer the conversation went on and might have even sided with the blonde when they discussed Nancy Cartwright.

At 2:30 a.m., Piper was more than a little tipsy. Her back rested against the arm of the sofa, and her legs were splayed across the beige fabric, crossed at the ankles. Alex sat on the floor, back against the bottom of the sofa close to Piper's hip.

"I should probably take off," the dark haired woman announced, draining her glass of wine.

"What time is it?" Piper hiccupped and quickly covered her mouth.

Alex smiled at the sound. "Almost three."

"Fuck," Piper said, rubbing her eyes. "No wonder I'm so sleepy."

"Gotta get that beauty sleep, right?" The brunette stood, stretching her back, and in doing so, revealing a sliver of skin above the waistband of her jeans.

"Are you suggesting I need it?" Piper raised her eyebrows.

"No," Alex snickered and set her wine glass on the coffee table. "That's one thing you absolutely do not need."

The blonde blushed; the image of her guest's sliver of exposed milky-white skin, etched in her mind. "If that's one thing I don't need…" Piper bit her lower lip as she stood face to face with her neighbor. "What's one thing that I do?"

The brunette removed the glass from her hostess' hand and poured the last sip of red wine into her own mouth. "You're not prepared for my answer to that, kid."

"Try me," Piper said defiantly.

"Alright." She lifted an eyebrow. "You need to get rid of your dull boyfriend."

The blonde jutted her chin out and replied with some amount of emotion, "Fuck you!"

"Right." She put her sandals on. "Like I said, you weren't ready."

"What on earth could you have against Larry?" Piper took a step forward and stumbled. "Everybody loves him."

Alex steadied her with a hand on the elbow. They were mere inches apart, and it was as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room.

The brunette was the first to recover. "I don't really know you, Piper, so allow me to excuse myself from the situation. We can continue this conversation another time if you're up for it."

The blonde lowered her head. "But I love him," she said with a pout.

Alex tilted her head. "Then why have you spent the last five hours talking to me while your boyfriend is waiting for you in bed?"

Piper gave her a lopsided smile. "You're…intriguing."

"You're drunk." The dark haired woman chuckled and walked towards the door. "I'll be gone for a couple of weeks." She ran her hand down the back of Piper's head. "Let me know if you want to compare literary giants when I return."

A strange feeling overcame the blonde as Alex departed—her breath hitched in her throat and her mouth suddenly went dry.

It was going to be a long couple of weeks.