Dear Estella,

34. the perfect antidote

I've been trying to convince myself that I want you.

But I just don't know if I do.

His words echo inside my mind, leaving behind a trail of confusion each time I replay the scene. Maybe if I had anything, some sort of assurance or explanation, then those sentences wouldn't haunt me the way they do.

But I don't.

I don't have anything.

All I have is the hope that Aaron figures it out soon. I hate the feeling of being stuck. I hate that I feel like a helpless dog— one being pulled by a leash without knowing whether or not it'll be released back into the world, or picked up and cherished by someone who wants it.

I've noticed the way he kisses me or wraps an arm around my shoulder only when he knows we're alone, no one else to see. It doesn't bother me, but I guess I still wonder why he does it. Maybe he's ashamed of being with me, or maybe he's just not one to show affection in public.

Yeah, right.

"Estella, can I ask you something?" Asher speaks, breaking the silence between us.

I almost forgot he was here.

Then again, how could I possibly forget how he climbed through my window once again and kicked his shoes off before jumping onto my bed without a single word of explanation.

"Yeah, go ahead," I reply as I grab a ruler from my desk and place it against my paper, drawing a straight line across the page of my notebook.

"Do you think I'm a bad person?"

I pause, furrowing my eyebrows. Setting down my pencil, I swivel around in my desk chair to face him. He lies on my bed, his head angled toward me as he waits for my response.

"Is this because of what happened earlier?" I ask him, setting my hands in my lap. "With Devin?"

He shrugs. "No. But... well, yeah. I guess."

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to come up with the right words. Asher's not a bad person, not in my eyes.

"I don't think you're a bad person."

"Do you think I'm a good person then?"

Standing up from the desk chair, I walk over to my bed and sit down. My feet dangle off of the edge as I turn my torso to face him. He sits up, leaning against the headboard so we're eye-leveled.

"Do you?" I ask him.

He furrows his eyebrows in thought before letting out an exasperated sigh. I tilt my head as he thinks. He looks at me, tilting his head in the opposite direction.

"I think I'm a shitty person sometimes." His eyes focus on me, his eyebrows furrowed. "I don't know why I'm like this. I just— fuck, I don't know."

I frown. The emotion is face when the words leave his mouth is something I'm not used to seeing on him. That's when I realize something: Asher may act like the most confident being on the planet, but deep down, he's just like the rest of us.

"Every good person has their flaws," I tell him. The solemn expression doesn't leave his face. "Asher, you have qualities I wish I had. Believe it or not, there are people who strive to be like you. People who wish they could let loose and live their lives without... without thinking all the time."

"Don't say that."

"Don't say what?"

"That you wanna be more like me," he replies as he gets off of the bed and circles around it to sit at my desk. "Estella, you are by far, the best kind of person I've ever met. I mean— you have this... this way of making me— I mean people, feel really shitty about themselves. And I mean that in the nicest way possible." He takes a deep breath. "So no, I don't have qualities that you— or anyone, should wish for."