Chapter 18
Lennon
Asher never messaged me back, and it pissed me off.
I had come in hot, so I figured I’d really gotten under his skin.
There was something about him that set me off, though.
I was up and down, mean and cruel, and then, somehow, it all felt too…
easy. I couldn’t wrap my head around how he made me feel, and it drove me crazy.
Maybe I should apologize for what I said…
I let out a heavy sigh just as a loud banging rattled my door, startling me enough to yank the blankets up to my chest. I wasn’t naked, but I wasn’t wearing a bra under my white tank top and I only had my full coverage underwear on. Who the fuck was here?
I racked my brain, trying to figure out who it could be, or why anyone would show up unannounced.
Before I could land on an answer, the banging began again.
Frustrated, I shook my head and tossed the blankets aside.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and marched down the hallway toward the door.
“Who the fuck is it?” I yelled, met only with silence.
“It’s me, Lennon,” the voice on the other side said. I didn’t recognize it right away—not until I pressed my face up against the door and caught sight of the infuriatingly beautiful man framed in the peephole. Exasperation washed over me as I exhaled, unlocked the deadbolt, and swung the door open.
If I hadn’t been so annoyed with him for ghosting me all day, I might have offered a smile at the sight of him.
“What in the actual fuck are you doing here?” I demanded.
He looked at me with a kind of admiration—of what, I wasn’t sure. He sucked in a quick breath, his kind eyes meeting mine. We stood there for what felt like an eternity, though it was only mere seconds. Then he waltzed past me, nudging my arm out of his way.
“Just figured I’d pop by. Communicating with you through text was annoying. I’d rather see you face-to-face, you know?” he said, smirking as he looked around my apartment. He was scanning my living situation, and I immediately was on the defensive.
I drew in a deep, irritated breath, closed my eyes, and turned in his direction, “I’m sorry, did I give you the impression that I was inviting you in? Because I absolutely wasn’t.”
He ignored me. He walked straight into my living room, grabbed some of the takeout containers and carried them into the open-concept kitchen before tossing them in the trash. As he looked around, I caught the judgment in his eyes.
“Wow. You’ve got to take care of this mess, Lennon,” he said. “No wonder you’re miserable. You have a beautiful apartment, but are treating it like you live in squalor.”
It was as if I burst into flames. My vision turned red, and every impulsive thought screamed for me to punch him right in the throat. “I didn’t fucking invite you in, so you can see yourself the FUCK out!” I yelled, panting as anger surged through me.
I couldn’t believe he’d said that. It wasn’t any of his goddamn business how I lived, where I lived, or where I left my fucking garbage. Who the hell did he think he was?
He continued organizing my dirty dishes, shoving them in my dishwasher as if nothing I said mattered. Confusion tangled in my chest—I couldn’t even process what was happening. I charged toward him, needing him to stop whatever this was.
“Stop, Asher. Leave me the fuck alone. Leave my apartment alone. I need you to get the fuck out!” I screamed, my voice elevated, my awareness of everything else slipping away.
I grabbed his hand to stop him from loading another dish. Something snapped inside of him as he turned toward me. I couldn’t make sense of the look in his eyes—vicious and feral—yet when his gaze locked with mine, I knew I was safe.
We stared at one another, both of us panting, the tension between us heated and volatile. Rage simmered in the air, nearly palpable.
“Stop,” I seethed through clenched teeth, never breaking eye contact.
He began walking me backward, never breaking eye contact until I bumped into the island and he pressed closer, crossing every boundary—yet, somehow none at all.
He leaned his head toward my ear, and I allowed his closeness as he whispered, “I know you’ve had worse days than I have, but I’m having a real shit day, okay? And do you know what was the only thing keeping me from not losing it altogether?”
My heart raced. The moment was tense, sensual, and frightening all at once. Every nerve in my body urged me to allow the closeness, to pull him near, and to let him in. But a very deeply rooted part of me warned me this was dangerous.
“What?” I whispered.
“You,” he said quietly. “Seeing you tonight, Lennon.”
Asher pulled his face back ever so slightly—I didn’t even notice until his lips hovered mere inches from mine.
His perfect lips parted, and he whispered against me.
“Making you angry…no, causing you to become furious with me—I’ve been craving that lately.
The way that your brows furrow with rage stirring in those beautiful green eyes…
I can’t help it. I can’t help crossing this imaginary line you’ve created.
I love not knowing where the lines are.”
Those perfect ocean-blues meet mine, and a distinct charge hung in the air neither of us could deny.
Before I could say or do anything, his mouth crashed against mine.
I was lost in a blurry haze that didn’t tell me to stop.
In fact, my hands found the back of his shirt, gripping onto the material, and pulled him closer to me.
His tongue invaded my mouth the moment I allowed my lips to part, and I couldn’t deny that I allowed my own to explore his just the same.
A brief moan escaped the back of my throat. His hands found the back of my neck, pulling me inward in the most perfect way. They didn’t set off any warning bells while exploring my body. My fight or flight was disabled. I was safe. I think…I think I like this.
Our bodies pressed against each other, and I kept pulling him closer while he gently caressed my neck with such care and reverence.
I had never felt this kind of tenderness before, and part of me wanted to hold it in my feels forever.
I wanted this moment to never change. To always exist. To always be present.
A little voice inside my brain reminded me that this wasn’t right. We didn’t allow strange men to kiss us. Our bodies were our own. We made the rules, not him. My grip on the back of his shirt loosened, and I opened my eyes, pulling away from him.
He looked lost in me. For a brief moment, I saw him enjoying himself, and I glimpsed the type of love he could give someone—but it wasn’t meant to be with me. Like an igniting flame, my rage returned in full, sharp vengeance.
“How fucking dare you?” I snapped. His brows drooped in confusion, but then he quickly adjusted, aware that this was how I was. It was who I was—a cornered animal, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.
He smiled at me, and without thinking, my hand shot up and connected with his cheek. How fucking dare he smile at me. His head tilted to the side from the impact, then slowly turned back to face me. A small, miniscule part of me felt a flicker of remorse for slapping him.
My panting had yet to subside, but he still looked calm, cool, and collected—even with the slight redness now blooming on his left cheek.
“I’ll let that one slide, Lennon,” he said in a joking tone.
That tone wound me up instantly, priming me to slap him again.
I was raging, seething, boiling over like molten lava.
I struck him harder this time, knowing it hurt—I felt the sting that spread across my palm, urging me to tend to them, to rub them back to relief.
But I didn’t provide him the satisfaction of knowing it hurt me, too.
His mouth parted again, and he looked ready to speak. I winced, bracing myself for the retaliation—for him to hit me back. A sane person would have. A normal person would have beat the shit out of me for that. But not him. Not Asher. I was starting to wonder if he even had a mean bone in his body.
“Why do you want to die?”
His words startled me. They were unexpected. So unexpected that I didn’t even have an answer. For a moment, I wondered if I’d heard him correctly at all. Why was he trying to make this messy? I didn’t want him to know me.
I looked away and stepped around him, suddenly needing space. “I’ve needed to for a long time, Asher. I just—I just don’t have it left in me anymore, you know?”
The way he looked at me then, the sympathy in his eyes, it disgusted me. I didn’t need sympathy. I needed to step off the edge of the fucking Earth and disappear.
“It’s none of your business, Asher,” I said with finality, certain he knew he wasn’t getting anything more out of me.
He turned to walk away, but then spun back so quickly that it startled me, fire blazing in his eyes. “Why?” he demanded. “Why would you want to give up? I don’t know who hurt you or what hurt you, but why are you letting them fucking win?”
His voice rose now, tipping into a shout. He was pleading with me. He thought I still had fight in me, but there wasn’t any. I was tired. I have been so tired.
I let my head droop, knowing he would never like the answer I had for him, so I allowed him to sit in his fury.
He stepped closer to me. “Why, Lennon? You have it in you to fight with me. Why can’t you let go wanting to die, and fight for yourself?” His voice softened just enough for me to hear, “I’ll carry you the rest of the way.”
I felt a pity for him I had never felt for anyone before.
I had wanted this for far too long to even consider an alternative.
He might think he could love me for a while, but eventually he would grow tired of me.
Grow tired of being with one woman—one as damaged as I am—and he would leave. They always did.
Unable to look him in the eye, I turned away. “I’m sorry. I’m not going to be able to tell you what you want to hear. I won’t lie.”
Frustrated, he shook his head sharply, unable to accept it, yet realizing he was trapped in a corner with me. He knew he wasn’t going to change my mind.
“How badly do you want to complete this list, Lennon?”
Once again, his question startled me. I was taken aback. “Badly,” I blurted, almost ashamed to admit it.
“Okay,” he whispered. “Go get dressed, and let’s go.”
And just like that, he turned his back and headed for the door. Whiplash hit me from the sudden shift in him.
“Where are we going?” I shouted after him.
He turned around, clearly pleased that he’d piqued my attention. “Where’s the fun in that, Lennon?”