Lennon
Ihad no energy left to fight him. If I was being honest with myself, I didn’t want to anymore.
I needed his distraction. I didn’t care if I wasn’t good enough.
He tried so hard to be present in my life, and today I had no fight left to push him away.
So there we were, standing in line to help at a local soup kitchen, waiting to help serve hot meals to the underhoused.
Never in a million years had I thought I’d be doing something like this—especially next to someone like Asher.
When we had made our bucket list, we hadn’t been under the impression that we would actually complete any of it.
But there was something good about what we were doing.
It felt full circle for me in a lot of ways.
There had been many times in my life when I’d had to visit soup kitchens just to get a hot meal—or any meal at all, for that matter.
And Asher?
He felt it important to be exposed to things he’d never had to experience in his lifetime.
It was an interesting perspective—that he recognized how much privilege his life had afforded him and wanted to ensure he wasn’t ignorant to the lives that struggled, simply because he never had to.
It was a part of what made him beautiful in his own right.
As we stood in line next to one another, his hand grazed mine accidentally. I jolted my hand away instinctively, but when he tilted his head lazily in my direction, he reached out and laced his fingers through mine with blatant intention.
The feeling was warm. Comforting. His hands connected with mine so easily. The warmth that rippled across my skin gave me a strange sense of security. Why was he doing this? Why was he making everything feel so difficult and convoluted?
He leaned into me, his shoulder pressed against mine, tugging my hand closer and pressing his lips to my hair as he whispered, “Thank you for coming with me tonight.”
I glanced down toward the floor, feeling a hint of contentment I didn’t always feel—if ever. A flutter stirred in my belly. I nodded because I couldn’t find the words, then smiled up at him once I found the courage to meet his eyes without tearing up.
Why did he make me feel like I was constantly on the edge of tears?
God, my dad would have loved someone like him for me…
The thought snapped me sober. Why had I just thought that? I fixed my gaze straight ahead at the volunteer coordinator as she assigned us our stations for our shift. I needed to remember to keep those walls up. Lock them down. Throw away the fucking key.
When we reached the table, she handed us our assignments, Asher eager as she spoke. We were both sent to the kitchen in the back to prepare vegetables for the hot meals. This worked for me—it meant I didn’t have to face the public just yet. It felt less overwhelming.
Without skipping a beat, Asher grabbed a pair of aprons from the wall along with hair nets, then walked to the sink to wash his hands before claiming space at the potato peeling station. I took my place beside him, peeling carrots and following his lead as he worked with easy confidence.
The work was monotonous, but it felt good.
There was something inside me that had forgotten how being useful could give me a sense of self—a sense of belonging.
Rows of people laughed as they worked away, clearly familiar with one another.
They had been doing this for a long time.
They had built connections, a small community, right here in this very kitchen.
This was nice.
“I haven’t seen you around here before,” a voice said, pulling my attention away.
I glanced up to find a tall, soft-spoken man standing nearby. He wore a bright smile, the kind that suggested he was always this cheerful, even while cooking food for strangers. He leaned casually against the counter.
I cleared my throat. “Yeah. It’s my first time.”
He presented that beaming smile once more, “Well, we’re glad to have you. If you need anything, I’m your guy. I’ve been volunteering here for years now.”
I nodded as he spoke, and he suddenly shook his head.
“Oh man—where are my manners?” He reached out a hand. “I’m Greg.”
I hesitated before placing my hand in his. “Lennon.”
His grip was warm and confident, welcoming. When he let go, he turned back to his station and resumed chopping vegetables. He worked with a quiet finesse that only came from years of repetition. I found myself watching him for a moment as I continued my own work.
“So, Lennon,” he started, “what brings you to the Heartful Kitchen this evening?”
I watched him work as he chatted with me casually. “Well, I—uh—felt charitable today.”
I felt eyes on the back of my head as Asher scoffed playfully. He was the reason I was here. There wasn’t a single part of me that had chosen this tonight—not on a day like today. This was merely a distraction from the wreckage of my life that waited for me once I went home.
“Hope you feel charitable more often,” Greg said coyly.
As I peeled carrots, I asked, “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
Greg chuckled, clearly bracing himself for the words he was about to say. “Well, for starters, it’s nice to see someone closer to my age here. And two—” he paused, “—someone as beautiful as you.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks, turning them a fiery red. Was he seriously hitting on me right now? In the fucking soup kitchen?
Wow, the balls…
I laughed out loud, my tone laced with sarcasm. “Listen, that was cheesy…”
Before I could plead my case, he threw up his hands in surrender. “I’m not trying anything—I swear!” His smile was playful and, from what I could tell, genuine. “I’m just an upfront kind of guy. I like to say things how they are, if that makes sense?”
I nodded, but didn’t respond.
Over the next couple of hours, Asher and I worked side by side, sneaking glances at each other when we thought the other wasn’t looking.
It became a quiet, playful game between us.
I needed some light, and today, he was it.
On my other side, Greg chatted endlessly, whether anyone responded or not.
I think he simply enjoyed chatting about the world around him—observing people, commenting on small, happy things.
He was comfortable in his own skin, and it was nice having his voice fill the void of the monotonous work.
Oddly enough, the repetition itself was comforting.
When our shift came to an end and I started to gather my things, Greg approached me.
“Hey, Lennie—oh wait. Can I call you that?” He flashed a huge smile at me, running his fingers through his thick, blond locks.
I shrugged, indifferent to the nickname, feeling like he was the type to hand those out to everyone he surrounded himself with. He had that kind of energy about him.
“‘Kay, cool,” he said quickly, “So, I was wondering—what are you doing now, after here?”
I glanced over at Asher, then back at Greg. “Just going home. It’s pretty late.”
He slid his hands into his jean pockets and rocked up on the balls of his feet. “What if… you didn’t go home?”
I tipped my head, catching on to what he was suggesting. “Listen, I’m not interested in dating of any kind. Dates, hangouts, dinners, coffee—whatever. I’m just biding my time, you know?”
He reached out and grabbed my arm to stop me before I could walk away. “Lennie, wait—”
Fury flared at the unexpected touch. I ripped my arm out of his grip, my brows knitting together as my features hardened. Before I could even react, Asher surged forward, stepping in front of me and shoving Greg hard in the chest. The impact landed with a dull thud.
Greg staggered back, then stepped toward Asher, his face flushing red. “What the hell, man?”
“Don’t fucking touch her. Keep your fucking hands to yourself,” Asher growled.
I shoved Asher without thinking, and he took off in the opposite direction, anger radiating off him as he stormed away.
Fury settled deep into my bones. I wasn’t some girl who needed rescuing. I wasn’t a damsel in distress. I was fully fucking capable of handling my own problems.
“Asher!” I called out after him as he kept walking. “Asher, stop!” I shouted again, but he didn’t slow down.
After a deep, grounding sigh, I marched forward, breaking into a jog to catch up with him. Everything in me resisted stopping him. If he thought he needed to protect me, he could fuck right off.
But I needed to know what was going on in his brain. He hadn’t said a word all night, and then he reacted when Greg touched me. It was completely out of character— wildly unlike him.
When I caught up, I grabbed his arm. My grip was firm enough to stop him in his tracks, but he refused to make eye contact with me.
“What’s your fucking problem?” I yelled.
He dropped his head and shook it slightly, clearly defeated. “Why would you let that guy flirt with you?”
I was dumbfounded. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Lennon. I want to be with you, and you fucking know it. And you know what’s worse? I think you want to be with me, too. So why—why would you let that guy flirt with you, knowing full well there’s someone right fucking next to you who wants you all to himself?”
I was shaken, left with no rebuttal. He was right in more ways than I wanted to admit. If there was anyone I wanted to be with, it was him. But I didn’t admit it. And Greg was flirty—and maybe I liked it.
I hung my head, unable to answer.
“Goddammit, Lennon, I want you so fucking badly!” he shouted to the sky.
I shoved his chest, my emotions tangling beyond control. “I don’t want anyone else, Asher—Jesus! Stop pushing me!”
He stumbled backward, then froze, catching the hitch in my words. “You don’t want anyone…or anyone else?”
I paused, understanding dawning, and shook my head in frustration. “No one! Fuck! I don’t want anyone, okay?”
Emotion tore through me, my chest fluctuating as my breath came out clipped and uneven. I watched him smile faintly, shaking his head at me.