Atlas

ꜰᴏᴜʀᴛᴇᴇɴ

Sierra wants me to be nice. Act as though I'm not a complete asshole. A guy with manners, feelings. One that offers hearts and flowers. And I'm anything but.

Acting as though I was the perfect boyfriend doesn't seem right. The last relationship I was in, a committed one, mind you, it didn't exactly end well. Or was great to begin with.

We're back at my house by now. It's only six, but I figured being here earlier than usual won't hurt. It hurts my nerves and workaholism, but it won't hurt Sierra.

And I really needed to get out of the office. It's been a day and everything looks like Sierra. Everything smells like her.

Her giggles echo through the room like a song is on repeat on the radio.

I don't understand how she has fun writing reports, and doing whatever the hell she does for a living. She always smiles while she writes. Giggles, laughs even. She squeals, jumps around, is happy.

And when she takes a break to eat, she is all nice and keeps offering her food to others, even me. And I don't understand why.

She was so mad at me for being bossy, and an hour later she was the kindest person anyone could meet, again.

Sierra is like the summer wind. She's warming, happy, she's a feel-good. She's a melody one wants to listen to. I, on the contrary, I'm bringing winter.

I'm the cold wind, freezing up body parts that don't have enough coverage. My office is usually a cold and lonely place. And this woman, Sierra, she warmed it up in a few hours.

Making her stay with me is becoming a real bad choice. It was right from the start, and it's only getting worse.

And still, I can't seem to stay away from her.

"Are you hungry?" I ask as Sierra walks into the kitchen. She's still wearing her way too short summer dress, but she ditched the shoes. She's holding a toy of my dog's in her hand, telling me was just playing with Taco.

Sierra smiles at me and nods, softly. "Can we order in? I don't like any of your healthy stuff."

I take a deep breath. "I sent someone shopping," I tell her. It's the truth. When Sierra went to chat with Athena earlier, I asked Cody to buy whatever the hell he knows Sierra loves to eat. After all, I can't have her die of hunger.

And she's always hungry, that much I've learned over the past two days.

"Donuts?" Her eyes are gleaming with hope. Her smile so bright, it might as well be a star seen on the night sky.

I nod. "They're in the fridge. Fresh ones, so you might want to eat them before they're not... fresh anymore?" Not a clue how fast that happens with donuts.

"I kinda want pasta," she tells me, pouting her lips.

"Fine, I'll cook it." I give in. Pasta is better than some sugar-bomb that are her precious donuts. Or her Monday-cookies.