Dear Estella,

49. this estella

I make my way down the stairs, greeted by Ansley and David's bickering. They sit at the kitchen island, a plate of eggs on each of their plates.

"Morning." Ansley smiles. "Eggs?"

Avery runs down the stairs, her small body brushing against me as she skips into the kitchen. She climbs up the stool, taking a seat on the one I usually sit on.

"I'm okay, thanks," I reply.

My mom and Matthew both come down the stairs, side by side.

"Dad, can you tell David to stop being such a pain in the—"

"Finish that sentence. I dare you."

The two of them glare at each other. My mom takes a sip of the coffee Matthew poured for her, her eyes traveling back and forth between the two of them.

"I have an idea. How about you get the out of those pajamas and get dressed for school?" Matthew suggests to David as he pours creamer into his mug.

David hops out of the stool, leaving his meal only half-eaten on the island. I watch as he makes his way to his bedroom, which used to be Nate's old room.

Before I can get a good look at it, he shuts the door to begin getting ready. I stare at it, flooded with memories of my brother doing the same every morning before my dad took him to school.

"Estella, do you want a ride to school?"

I turn to Matthew slowly, shaking my head in response. "That's okay. I have a ride, thank you though."

"Ride from who?" My mom questions in a casual tone, bringing her mug to her lips.

I shrug. "A friend."

My phone vibrates from the back pocket of my jeans. I pull it out, reading Asher's name displayed on the screen.

"Speaking of, my ride's here," I say. "So I'll see you all later."

"Have a good day!" Ansley exclaims as I walk to the front door.

"You too." I smile before closing the door.

I hear Avery's loud voice asking about when her puppy will be joining us in the house. Asher's black car sits at the curb. I walk over, opening the passenger door and sliding into the seat.

"When did your mom get a minivan?" He asks, staring at the silver car parked in the driveway.

"She didn't," I reply.

He turns to me, narrowing his eyes. They slowly widen. "The cannibals?"

I smile. "Stop calling them that."

He laughs, driving off and away from my house. I sigh, my eyes trained on the road. They slowly travel toward him, to his left hand on the steering wheel, his sharp jawline, the messy curls on his head.

"God, Estella. You can't just reject me and then look at me like I'm a piece of meat."

I quickly turn my head back to the window shield. "I wasn't— I was just—"