Lennon and I spent the rest of the session trading small additions to the list, back and forth. It was only thirty minutes, but it felt like seconds and a lifetime all wrapped up in one singular moment. I could’ve stayed there writing things until I was making shit up—anything to stay in her presence a little longer.
Dana called out to the group that we had five minutes to wrap up our lists before it needed to be handed in to her. She reminded us to write both names at the top of the notebook. Since I already had the pencil, I scribbled my name down first. Then I slid the notebook toward her.
Shaking her head, she murmured, “Go ahead. You can write it down for me.”
I hesitated for a second. I realized that I’d written my full name—Asher Graves.But I didn’t know her last name, and asking felt weird, too intimate somehow. So I just wrote:Lennon and Asher Graves.I was well aware that I placed her name before mine, making it look like our last names were the same. A part of me hoped she’d notice and give me shit for it. She seemed like the type who kept her rage bottled tight until it finally blew up.Why did I love that so much?
“Did I spell it right?” I asked, playing coy with her.
She glanced down and gave a distracted nod. “Yup.”
A weird wave of disappointment radiated throughout me. She didn’t notice. Or maybe she didn’t care. Lennon had this way about her—like she’d fought too many battles alone and she had nothing left to give. And for some reason, watching her carry that weight—it killed me inside.
“I know I apologized for earlier,” I said softly, shifting toward her, “but I’d like to restart our introduction.” I held out my hand.She stared at it as if it were foreign to her, an object she wasn’t sure was a threat. Like she wasn’t sure what to do with a gesture that gentle.
“My name’s Asher Graves.”
Her lips parted, curiosity flickering behind her eyes at the sudden change of topic from the last thirty minutes of working on the bucket list project. Then she lifted her hand, cautious but willing. “I’m…uh…Lennon. Lennon Becker.”
Our palms met. She gave the lightest squeeze before she pulled it away.
“Pleasure to meet you, Lennon Becker,” I whispered, feeling my heart rate pick up speed at the light touch between us.
One corner of her mouth lifted in a hesitant half smile as she murmured, “I was really angry to be paired with you.”
I let out a quiet chuckle, lowering my gaze. “I know.”
“Am I that obvious?” she asked.
I laughed under my breath gently and nodded. “Yeah, you kind of are.”
Before she could respond, Dana announced that the group was dismissed until Monday. Chairs screeched, people stood, and everyone moved toward her to hand in their notebooks. I joined the line, but halfway there I realized Lennon wasn’t behind me. She hadn’t moved at all—she was still sitting in the same rigid position, staring at nothing.
I handed the notebook to Dana. As I got ready to exit, I peered back, unwilling to leave her behind. I sighed, wondering if this was a bad move on my part. After a moment of deliberation, I decided to return to her.
“Everything okay?” I asked as I walked closer.
She peered up at me, her eyes glazed with that same bloodshot hostility. “No. Everything fucking sucks, and I can’t wait for this to be over—so it can be actually over.”
I got whiplash, completely thrown by the intensity of her sudden change of behaviour. I scrunched my brows, at a loss of words. “Did I do something to upset you?” I asked. She scoffed, as if I had the audacity to even ask.
She shot to her feet in a fit of fury and stormed toward the door. It took my mind a second to catch up—to consider that maybe Ihaddone something to hurt her. I replayed every moment leading up to this, searching for something I might’ve said, anything that could’ve damaged the fragile rapport we’d just built. I found nothing.
Then it hit me.
I spun around and chased after her, but she’d picked up speed in the time it took me to finally react. By the time I exited the room, she was nearly at the front entrance of the hospital. I called out, “Lennon!” She ignored me.
I jogged after her, my heart racing too fast to feel good. Jesus, I really needed to work on my cardio. I was going to lose her. She would get away instead of me fixing my wrongs. Breathing like this was difficult. My breaths grew shallow and harsh, each intake of air scraping my chest. I had to stop—it was too much. My palms were slick with sweat, my body suddenly cold.
Shit.
I came to a complete stop, spotting a water fountain ahead and limping toward it. I needed a drink—needed to calm down. As I slurped up water, leaning forward, my vision began to darken at the edges. I needed to sit.
There was no bench in my line of sight, so I leaned my back against the wall and slid down until I was seated on the floor. Slow breaths. Slow, intentional breaths. I kept my eyes closed until I heard a voice speaking to me.
When I opened them, I saw Dana standing in front of me.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly, genuine concern ripping through her voice. I nodded, not wanting to alarm her.
