It was everything and more. If I had died today, that would have been enough.
Leaning against the car, all I could think about washer. The fury in her eyes. The way her body finally relaxed, even if for a moment with me. The way her pouty lips had felt against mine. Goddamn.
I waited for her to come down the stairs of her apartment so I could take her to check the first item off of our list. A brief shadow of doubt crept its way into my brain.Maybe she had locked the door and wasn’t coming down at all. What if she did come down, but once we got there, she decided this was a stupid idea?
Stop overthinking it, Asher,I told myself. I closed my eyes, but the vision of her was still painfully clear. She was allowing me in. It was a slow process, but slow meant progress, and as long as there was progress, I could seep into her thoughts.
Maybe—just maybe—if I could get into her head, I could change everything for her. The way I felt about her, I could stay in this for as long as it took to make her see that life was beautiful, that it was worth living. I could show her that love was worth holding on for. I knew that my life sentence had already been dealt for me, but she still had a choice. She could stay. She could be loved the way she deserved.
She deserved so much more than she ever believed.
Smiling as the memory of our mouths pressed together danced through my mind, I caught sight of the door swinging open in my peripheral vision. There she was—looking worlds different from how I had just seen her, yet somehow exactly the same.
She had brushed her bleached blonde hair back into a high ponytail, full and messy in a way that felt effortless. She wore light, baggy jeans and a loose, white shirt, the kind of outfit that made her look like the girl you’d bring home to your parents without a second thought. She didn’t even look angry. A small, reckless part of me wanted to provoke her, just to see that familiar scowl cross her face once again.
If she was scowling at me, it meant she was fighting back. And fighting meant she was giving herself a semblance of life. I loved seeing that in her.
She approached me cautiously, her hands tucked into her back pocket as she asked, “So, hotshot, where are you taking me on this Tuesday evening that couldn’t wait another minute?”
I could hear it in her tone—there was no anger there. She was playing with me. I smiled. “Now where’s the fun in that, little siren?”
She eyed me, one brow lifting. “Siren?”
I chuckled, knowing it would get a rise out of her. “Yeah. You could lure me in and just take me out of this world, Lennon.”
She pursed her lips, considering my words. They didn’t seem to offend her, which felt like a silent thumbs up to keep using it. Holding the car door open, I didn’t break eye contact. She studied me for a moment, then shrugged and slid herself into the back of the car.
I jogged around to the other side and climbed in beside her. So far, so good. As I settled in, she glanced around, taking in the interior of the car. “Whose car is this?” she asked.
It hit me then—this was a luxury I’d always had, something I’d never thought twice about. Of course, she would. “It’s my parents’. Duke’s the driver. He takes us around when they don’t feel like driving. I don’t have a license, so he drives me everywhere when he’s not tied up with them.”
She rolled her eyes, and I could have sworn she mutteredrich boyunder her breath. I smirked at the jab.
She kept rummaging through the back seat—the side pouches, the centre console in front of us—like she owned the place. I watched her, a little in awe of the confidence she had to invade someone else’s space so freely. “Looking for something?” I asked jokingly.
She looked at me. “Oh, you don’t like when people touch your shit? Yeah, me either.”
The smile that lit up my face was instant.Touché, Lennon. Touché.
Duke drove us across the city, and once we reached the outskirts, we turned down a dirt road. It wasn’t one of his usual routes, but he didn’t object. I glanced at Lennon, and she seemed off—tense, closed in on herself.
“Are you okay?” I asked. She didn’t answer.
I looked around, trying to understand what shifted in the last twenty minutes. Then it hit me. We’d been driving for twenty minutes, and now we were headed down some dirt road. She wasalone with a guy who had taken it upon himself to kiss her in her apartment after barging in.
Goddamnit, I really wasn’t good at this.
“I’m not going to do anything to hurt you, Lennon,” I offered earnestly. She finally turned her head toward me. She appeared on the brink of tears, her eyes bloodshot and strained. Lennon was stressed, and I needed to fix it.
“I promise you. We were just checking some reckless stuff off of our bucket list. And, to be honest, I thought you were going to like this one,” I added reassurance to my last statement.
A subtle smile—the only one Lennon ever gave—appeared on her face. “You think I’m going to like this one? You don’t even know me,” she said flatly.
I pondered her for a moment. “Yeah, I know. But from what I do know, this could be fun for you.”
She scoffed as if I’d made an obscene joke. “Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Finally, as we reached the end of the dirt road, a sign forDodgey Adventuresstood posted ahead.Lennon was looking out the window on the opposite side and didn’t see it, so it remained a surprise to her. I liked that, though.
