Pyromaniac

Chapter 2: A Day in the Life of Estella Churchill

            She was in an ice cream parlor.

            You’re in an ice cream parlor, Churchill. Get it together.      

            This was not the place or time to be mourning her brother’s death. All that her brother and the man sitting in front of her had in common were their names. Her brother was sweet, adorable, and easy to love. The guy sitting in front of her was nowhere near that. He was some creep who—

            What was he doing here, anyway?

            Before Estella could ask, he went ahead and spoke.

             “You’ve made things hard for me.”

            She only slightly raised her eyebrows and propped an elbow up, cupping her cheek with one hand. The look in her eyes read, I don’t know what you’re talking about and I don’t care, but go on.

            “You broke up with Stephen, right?”

            Her jaw locked. She really didn’t want to talk about this right now.

            “Now he’s going to come knocking on my door and ask for a place to stay. Everyone gets grumpier every time a new guy joins us,” Drew explained, narrowing down his meaning. “And sweatier.”

            Estella picked up her glass and took a ladylike sip, the water doing no wonders to her throat. “Who’s Stephen? Do I know him?” she feigned blatant innocence. “Tell it to someone who cares, Sterling.”

            She found it disgusting how easy it was to say that.

            Estella, in truth, admired Drew. He barely made it off the streets and lived in one of the most broken-down houses in the area. Yet he still had the nerve to walk up to someone of Estella’s status and look them straight in the eye. It was because of this that he was so real and well-liked by the rest of the school, unlike Estella, who only obtained popularity from her money. But it wasn’t like she asked for all the attention, anyway.

            “I’ll remember that next time, Churchill,” Drew mock-replied.

            Estella expected him to get up and leave after that—that would be perfect. It would be like one of those intense movie scenes. But he stayed put. Her gaze flickered from her water to him. Her water. Him. Her water.

            Him.

            “Can I help you?” she finally asked.

            “You’re really pretty, Estella,” Drew said without missing a beat, a stupid grin plastered across his face.

            Estella didn’t even blink. Giving him an unimpressed look, she said, “Is that it? Will you leave now?”

            He dropped his little-boy façade and fell back into the plush chair. “That’s the problem with you. Always so rude. You must crush guys’ hearts like that, don’t you? What if I was sincere?”

            “Thank you so much for letting me know,” she said in a high-pitched voice, dripping with sarcasm.

            “Just trying to make conversation,” he defended himself.

            “Does it look like I want to talk to you?” Estella countered with a disinterested, bored tone.

            “You just look so lonely and I felt bad. Poor little Stella, all by herself,” Drew cooed.