CHAPTER 8
MATT
It was around three in the afternoon when I returned home. KORA’s album was finally completed, and now I get to focus all my energy on the label and Raphael.
Instead of a quiet apartment, the loud rumbling sound of the TV greeted me. I came to a stop when a pair of bunny slippers were thrown haphazardly on the floor.
Didn’t I explicitly state today that they needed to clean up after themselves?
A cluttered space fucked with my brain, big time.
I followed the trail of mess to the living room.
Two pairs of tiny feet with pink painted toes poked out from behind the couch. Sierra was lying upside down on the couch with her hoodie drawn up over her head as she munched on Cheetos, watching some Korean drama.
An empty can of Diet Coke lay on the coffee table with a weird-looking doll beside it.
“Hey, Matty.” She waved an orange-covered hand.
“Why are you upside down?”
“It’s good for the brain.”
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 know everything about 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.
“And?”
“I’m thinking whether to tell you.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“You can’t just tell anyone about your allergies. They would have the power to kill you.”
Did Chan’s siblings’ brains function on a different brain wave? “But you asked me,” I stated the obvious.
“I’m not going to kill you.”
I shook my head and went back to my pasta. It was probably best for me to keep my mouth shut and eat.
“Unless…”
Her voice drew me back to her. She threw her empty Cheeto packet to the side, which went tumbling on the floor as she straightened. Finally, she sat up like a normal person, with a smile dancing on her face as she regarded me. “We get to trade.”
“Trade?”
“Yeah, a secret for a secret.” Her hazel eyes glowed. “You get to know the one thing that could kill me, and I get to know something about you that no one does.”
Was I that desperate to know what she was allergic to? The answer was a clear no.
“No, thank you,” I replied.
“What?” She pouted, doe-eyed. “But trades are fun.”
Something snapped in my heart, and I relented like a fucking coward. “Fine.”
“Yay!” She clapped, bouncing. “You first.”
“Green apples,” I admitted. “I like them. I like anything green apples, and I don’t think anyone knows that.”
“Really? That’s the most boring fruit ever.” Her lips twisted. “But I don’t like fruits in general. I also don’t like vegetables.”
“I think I can see that,” I deadpanned. My eyes went straight to her mess of snacks. “Who would if you eat that ?”
“Hey, don’t talk about my Cheetos in such a condescending way.”
“They’re not good for you.”
“Says who?”
“About a thousand published papers.”
“But it brings joy. And no paper can bring that.”
“A joy that reduces your life sentence.”
“I’ll happily do so if I get to eat Cheetos.”
“I bet it doesn’t even taste good.”
“Wait.” Her eyes widened as she clutched her heart. “You haven’t tried Cheetos?”
“I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure, nor do I want to.”
“That’s it. We can’t be friends.” She narrowed her eyes, attempting a glare and failing terribly.
We were friends ? “You still haven’t told me.”
“Told you?” Her brows furrowed.
Did she already forget? “Your allergy.”
“Ah, it’s berries. Mostly strawberries. But it’s nothing serious.” She blinked innocently. “I just get this rash over the top of my nose. Like freckles. Sometimes I eat them to look cute. Freckles are all the rage in the beauty community now.”
Baffled.
I was utterly and completely baffled.
“I’m leaving,” I said, bouncing to my feet as I walked away without another word.
“Wait, Matty. I swear I’m not always that bad,” she called out from behind me.
I highly doubted that.
She was trouble with a capital T.
And I needed to stay far, far away.