Page 30 of From Drummer to Gamer
What the fuck did she say?I don’t think I’d ever been more blindsided in my life than I’d been in the past twenty-four hours.
“I don’t know where you read that or who said that, but you were tricked.”
“You think?” She bit her lips. “I thought more blood to the brain makes you smarter.”
“It clearly didn’t,” I commented under my breath.
“Hey.” A Cheeto came flying at me. “I heard that.” It bounced off my chest and fell to my feet among the other candy wrappers.
“I told you not to make a mess.”
“Did you?” Her nose scrunched. “When?”
They weren’t really listening this morning, were they?
“Hey, I made you pasta in case you’re hungry. I suggest you eat before my brother gets here,” she offered, licking the powdery orange specks on her finger, and my eyes went straight to that.
Sierra was like the most vivid movie I’d ever seen, flashing with different colors, lacing to create an impeccable work of art that I cannot stop staring at.
“Matty,” she shouted, waving a hand. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes.” I sighed, picking up some of the trash as I left. I’d have to adapt to this new norm now. I did put myself in this position, didn’t I? Now the bed was mine alone to lay on.
A huge casserole dish covered with foil awaited me on the counter. When I reached closer, I could see tiny star-shaped sticky notes stuck on it.
Curious, I lifted the pink one. “Happy Eating ?” one said, and the blue one said “Chicken, tomato, feta pasta with lots and lots of cheese and no veggies,” and the last yellow one said “Don’t lift without saying cheese—it’s a cheesy joke ;) Enjoy!”
My lips fought a smile. Not having it in me to throw them away for some reason, I chucked them inside the menu drawer and made myself a plate with a generous serving.
Instead of going to the dining room like I usually did, my feet took me to the living room.
Sierra was still in the same position, knowing it would do nothing for her brain.
I settled down in the armchair so she was to my right while I faced the windows. I had to fight a moan when my mouth took the first bite of her dish. Damn, she was right. She was an incredible cook.
“Good?”
My gaze flew in her direction to watch her looking at me with hopeful eyes.
“Yes,” I said, softer than I intended. “It’s incredible.”
“Thanks,” she muttered, and just like I expected, her cheeks turned red. The way they always did when I said something nice.
So predictable.
It made me wonder what other shades of red I could bring out of her.
I froze, scrubbing the thought. Not going there.Ever.
“Hmm, so I want to ask if you have any allergies? Just in case, I don’t want to kill you. Imagine the scandal I’d be involved in for murdering a famous rock star in his own home, eating his own food,” she huffed dramatically.
Another thing I noticed was Sierra liked to ramble a lot—a lot more than necessary. Why was I noticing all this when I usually didn’t give two fucks? I had no clue, but I couldn’t stop. She wasn’t just the movie I wanted to watch once. She was that movie I wanted to watch over and over again till I memorized all the lines. And still watch it anyway.
“I don’t have any allergies. Do you?” I asked before I could stop myself. I wanted to, for some reason. I wanted to knoweverythingabout her.
“I might,” she mumbled.
I waited, but seconds passed. She didn’t say a thing as she scarfed down her Cheetos like it was her favorite hobby.
