Page 81 of From Drummer to Gamer

But one thing was for sure: I can’t entertain our relationship into more than what it already was. Somehow, I had a feeling that the hardest thing I would ever do was stay away from her, but I had no other choice.

Sierra can’t be mine.

CHAPTER 17

MATT

I thought I was a responsible adult who had an unprecedented amount of self-control.

But here I was proven wrong by folds of a curvy ass.

If temptation came in a pair of boy shorts, I was being tested…

And I failed.

A big fucking F.

It had been two weeks since that day, and ever since then, I’d kept my contact with her minimal. At times, I didn’t like seeing the smile fall from her lips when I didn’t answer her questions or didn’t linger much in her presence.

All I wanted to do was sit there and watch her talk, but it wouldn’t be for the best.

“Morning, Matty.” Sierra beamed, spinning around to a sight that was even more beautiful.

Her eyes and her smile.

I gave her a stiff nod, mumbling, “Morning,” as I got to the fridge to retrieve my glass of coffee, which was almost always waiting there for me. Something in my heart tugged, knowing every morning she made it for me.

My fingers clutched tight around my glass, forcing down the moan as a burst of sweetness hit me.

“I’m going to go get ready now,” she announced in an overly excited voice before she rushed out.

Sierra Chan was a lot of things, but she was the worst liar in the world.

I watched her enough to know that her eyes always darted around the room at lightning speed whenever she lied. I also picked up that she hated routines, so much so that she never followed them.

Except on every Monday through Friday.

Like clockwork, she would leave the apartment exactly at nine and return exactly at three, not a minute early or late.

And today was a Friday, and it was eight forty-eight now.

I knew classes followed a strict timing, but weren’t there other factors that could influence her timing? Maybe she took a train or a bus that dropped her exactly at that time.

But something made me question if she even went to the campus for her summer classes because the other day, I volunteered to drop her off at Morningside Heights because the band had a meeting that way, and she outright blinked at me, blinked like a flutter of a feather flying in the sky which I found adorable as fuck, but she had no clue what was Morningside Heights. But after knowing that was where Columbia was, she gave me the most clueless excuse while she came up with a spurt of lies that even a stupid man wouldn’t believe.

It wasn’t just that. What piqued my curiosity more was her Saturdays.

Every Saturday morning exactly at ten, she would walk out of her room, dressed in a black attire that molded to her skin and curved along her figure in all the right places. Her tight high-waisted black skirt showcased her thick legs clad in stockings, and her fucking crop top that always had some pop of color stopped just below her breasts, showing off a slither of bare skin around her waist that no man should ever be allowed to see.

Her makeup was expertly done, highlighting the gold in her hazel eyes and the fullness of her pouty lips.

But the fucking ribbons plaits framing her face? Those fucking got to me all the time.

I want to unravel them slowly, one by one, till those beautiful dark caramel waves cascade into untamed strands of silk.

But more things about her didn’t make sense.

Like the other day, we were watching some animal documentary, and they mentioned a frog had three heart chambers, and that fascinated her so much that she had a conversation with her brother, who for some reason knew more than she did, while she had a clueless expression on her face. She didn’t even know the heart had chambers and found it to be romantic for some weird reason.