Dear Estella,

40. pineapple express

I toss my clothes into a laundry basket before shutting the door of the dryer. I shut off the lights in the laundry room then make my way back upstairs to my bedroom.

Asher sits at my desk, using my laptop to complete his homework. I'm surprised at how focused he is, considering how much he hates doing schoolwork.

"Why do they live in Utah?" He asks.

I furrow my eyebrows, pausing my folding to turn around and face him. The chair is still swiveled in the direction of my desk, but he's turned his head in my direction.

"They were banned from California."

He angles his head. "Fuck you."

"Right back at ya." I grab a blue t-shirt from the basket and fold it up, placing it into my luggage.

He smirks. "Really, when?"

I stop, turning to look at him again. "How was I able to hear that smirk?"

He stands from my desk chair and walks over to my bed. Before lying down, he slips his shoes off. I smile proudly at the fact that I taught him to do that.

"I don't think you should go."

I continue picking out clothes I want to take on the trip. "Why not?"

He shrugs, pulling out his phone as he twists onto his back. I wait for him to say something, but I realize he won't be explaining once I hear a video coming from his phone.

"Asher."

"Hm?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"Oh." He turns off his phone, turning onto his side to face me again. "You don't know these people... what if they're like— fucking weirdos? What if they're fucking cannibals and the only reason that you're invited is because they're gonna cook you up and eat you for dinner?"

What goes on in his head?

My eyebrows furrow as he explains his enological theory. "I thought you were a realist."

"I am."

"Your theory isn't very realist of you."

He smiles, his green eyes having a certain twinkle in them, one that doesn't reveal itself very often. "No seriously though," he says. "You... you're gonna miss Aaron's party."

I take a deep breath, shrugging. Things between me and Aaron this week weren't as awkward as I thought they'd be. If I'm being honest, nothing between us really changed much. With the exception of the occasional arm draped over my shoulder, everything is the same. And I feel like I've pretty much gotten over the fact that our... fling? I'm not sure what to call it. But whatever it was, it's over.

"It's alright." I shrug. "I'll still get him something."

He rolls his eyes. "That's not the point, smart one."

"Excuse you?" I blink. So much attitude today.

"The point is that you're not gonna be there," he explains as he sits up. "Who am I gonna talk to when everyone's wasted? There's not gonna be a cute little sober Estella for me to have a conversation with."

I shake my head, walking to my closet to pull out a few pajama pants for me to add to my small luggage. I fold up them up before neatly placing them inside.

"Are you almost done?" He asks. "We can watch a movie after."

I laugh, cleaning up the clothes scattered around my bed. "You need to leave, Asher. My mom will be home soon."