Groaning, he leaned in to nip my earlobe, making me yip. I raised my arms as he pulled my sweater over my head, sliding my arms through the sleeves. The intimacy was subtle, yet perfect—something I hadn’t recalled ever experiencing before.
Leaning in again, Asher pressed his lips against my neck, lingering just a moment longer, kissing so gently that goosebumps flooded my skin.
“Let me take you home, Lennon,” he said. And I nodded happily.
For what felt like the first time, I noddedhappily.
Asher
Ioutstretched my arms, feeling a wave of exhaustion from the night’s sleep rippling through my body. The tightness along my spine made the stretch ache painfully good. When I finally opened my eyes, the sunlight cascading through my window felt different—not the crisp, early morning glow, but something closer to late afternoon.
I shot a glare toward the nightstand and reached for my phone. Adjusting to the brightness surrounding me, the screen lit up:1:37 p.m.
I tossed the phone back onto the bed and rubbed my face with both hands, realizing the shit-eating grin plastered across my cheeks.
Lennon.
She was perfection. Everything and more. The very definition of quintessence.
Everything—from the way her body pressed against mine, to the way she latched onto me refusing to let go, to the way her rounded, emerald eyes locked with mine, finding the deepest parts of me and claiming them—was intoxicating.
But it wasn’t just that. Honestly, she always blew me away.
It was more about the way she lowered the walls she’d been hiding behind. The way she began living without the constantshadow of looming thoughts, without the weight of death pressing overhead.
She was the part of Lennon that deserved to shine, the part that had been dulled for far too long, hidden beneath the darkness.
I pressed a palm to my chest, realizing I had probably overexerted myself the night before; my body was still craving the oxygen it had missed. I felt oddly tired, yet awake at the same time. My internal clock insisted it was 6:00 a.m.—but clearly, I had missed the mark. It had been worth it to be close to her.
Reaching for my phone, I considered texting her—but then decided against it. Instead, I dialled her number and pressed the phone to my ear. It rang twice before the subtle sound of her breath met me on the other end. A smile spread across my face.
“Good morning, Lennon,” I said, the smile evident in my voice.
“It’s the afternoon, Asher,” she replied flatly, clearly unimpressed with my antics already.
I chuckled. “Someone exhausted me last night, so this—my little siren—is my morning.”
“What do you want, Asher?” she asked, bluntly, clearly trying to end this conversation.
I was beginning to read her, starting to understand how her walls worked. When she pushed, she wasn’t always ready for me to back away. She needed someone to fight for her, to make her feel worthy of the fight. I almost craved that challenge with her, as if I had to prove myself worthy enough to be with her in return. I think I was starting to figure her out.
“Well, I want you to be mine, for starters,” I shot back, hoping to catch her off guard.
She scoffed and hung up the phone. I laughed to myself—she was such a wildcat. Unpredictable as all hell.
Deciding it was time to get moving, I shot up and made my way out of the bedroom, down the hallway. I peered down the stairs, careful to avoid my dad, not wanting my mood squashed before it even got started.
I’d been avoiding him for a while. Spending time with Lennon had been my priority and avoiding the shit show that was my household was second to that.
“Asher?” a familiar voice called from in the kitchen just as I attempted to slip out unnoticed.
I sighed, allowing my shoulders to drop. Pinching my eyes shut for a moment, I forced my voice into normalcy. “Yeah, Dad?”
“Got a minute before you head out?” His voice was practically a waving white flag. He knew things had been off between us for a while, but discovering his affair had driven a deeper wedge into our relationship.
I turned and walked toward the island where he stood in the kitchen. Resting my elbows on the cold marble countertop, I sighed and met his eyes. He looked defeated, almost fragile. If he had treated me differently over the last couple years, I might have felt sorry for him.
But I don’t.
