Dear Estella,

54. the really good surprise

"Are you sure?"

"Mhm." I nod.

I turn away from him and curl up, holding my knees up to my chest. I close my eyes. "I'm just gonna take a quick nap. I'll feel better after."

-

"Fucking finally," Asher says once I've awoken from my nap. "Happy New Year."

He's still lying down beside me. The blanket he got from my bed is draped over my body and my laptop is in his lap. The Walking Dead is paused on the screen.

I sit up, smiling when I don't feel any pain shooting through my body. "What time is it?"

"Nine."

My jaw drops. "I've been asleep for three hours?"

He nods. "Snoring up a fucking storm, too."

I slap his arm before standing up from the ground. The outfit I was supposed to wear tonight is still on my bed, untouched. I walk over to my desk and grab a hair tie, quickly putting my hair up into a ponytail.

"I feel bad," I say as Asher stands up. He grabs both of the pillows and tosses them onto my bed.

"Why?" He asks as he folds my blanket.

I shrug, leaning against my desk. "I kinda ruined Christmas. With my stomachache."

He chuckles before throwing his arms up in the air dramatically. "Yeah, what the fuck, 'Stella? Ruined my entire day. I'm— I'm pissed that I had to spend three whole hours laying down next to you."

I cross my arms, cocking my head to the side. He gives me a toothy smile as he makes his way over and sits at my desk chair. He puts his hands on my hips and looks up at me.

"I was being sarcastic, if you didn't catch—"

"I caught on." I nod.

"Yeah, I thought so," he replies. "You didn't ruin Christmas, Estella... Did you sleep the whole day away? Yeah. Did you make us miss Dev's Christmas party? Sure." I roll my eyes, which only makes him laugh. "But it's okay. Know why?"

I narrow my eyes. "Why?"

He stands up and lifts my chin with his fingers all in one quick motion. His mouth comes close to my ear as he whispers, "We still have all night, Stel."

I pull away from his grasp and walk away from him. I hear his laughs as I walk to my closet. When I glance back at him, he's sitting at my desk chair, crossing his arms with a triumphant little smile on his face.

"Grab a sweater while you're in there," he calls out.

I back out of my closet so I'm looking at him again. He took his beanie off, and he's already fixed his hair so it's not flat against his head.

"Why do I need a sweater?"

"Cause the night isn't over. I'm taking you out," he says. "That's what I meant by we have all night, but your head is just stuck in the damn gutter, Estella."