Forced to be my sisters lover in a reverse world-Chapter 3: Nice house cuh

I approached the school gate and spotted Sara already waiting for me, her eyes drifting across the street like she was searching for anything to keep her mind busy.
"Hey, Sara. Ready?" I asked, raising my fist for a bump out of habit—then quickly lowering it, remembering that guys don't really do that kind of thing in this world.
"Y-yeah..." she murmured, eyes fixed on her shoes—still quiet as ever, I see.
"Alright then, lead the way," I said. She nodded softly and started walking. I matched her pace, staying by her side—careful not to fall behind, or walk too far ahead.
"Thanks for letting me walk with you," I said with a small laugh as we maneuvered down the sidewalk, stepping over cracks and uneven concrete. "I was kinda scared I'd have to do it alone..."
"You're welcome... I know how d-dangerous women can be," she stammered. "Don't worry, I—I'm not like that... I swear. I'd never do anything like that."
A bit odd that she had to emphasize that, but whatever—probably just her nerves talking.
"Sara, I wanted to ask... why does nobody ever talk to you?"
Her pace faltered for just a moment—fair, that was a pretty unexpected question.
"I-I don't know... I'm just not popular?" she murmured, the last part barely audible. She quickened her steps after that, like she suddenly wanted the walk to end.
Yeah... I probably shouldn't have asked that.
After that, the walk sank into an awkward silence, broken only by the occasional chirp of a bird.
"I'm sorry..." I finally murmured into the stillness.
She didn't reply, but her hand brushed against mine—just barely—and her rough fingers sent a faint tingle across my soft skin.
"Are we close to your place?" I asked.
She nodded, eyes still fixed on the cracked gray concrete beneath our feet. There was something about the way she moved—small, careful steps—that made me want to know her more, maybe even be her friend.
"Almost home," she whispered. Her voice was soft, almost carried away by the wind. Then her hand brushed against mine again—slow, deliberate this time.
"What's with that?" I muttered, glancing down. I grabbed the spot she'd touched, my fingers rubbing over the faint warmth she'd left behind. The tingle lingered longer than it should have, crawling up my arm as I tried to shake it off.
"S-sorry... I-I just—look, we're here." She pointed toward a gray, two-story house sitting quietly at the end of the street. Broken furniture lay scattered across the front lawn, wood splintering and fabric stiff from the winter cold.
The place looked like it had seen better days—peeling paint, sagging gutters, windows clouded with dust—but it was still standing. Still livable, I guessed... with a few repairs and a lot of care needed.
"It's a... nice home. Yeah, nice home," I said, trying to sound convincing—but even to me, it didn't quite land.
"R-really?" she asked, a hint of surprise in her voice.
I nodded quickly, figuring anything else I said would just make it worse.
As we walked up the cracked walkway toward the front door, I noticed the garage door was slightly ajar at the bottom, just enough to let in a draft of cold air
The wooden steps in front of the door groaned under our combined weight. Honestly, I half expected them to snap.
"Welcome to my home..." she said, her voice flat and monotone, dull as a rusted blade. She pushed the door open, revealing a living room that felt heavy with silence, the furniture sparse and worn, and the air carrying a faint chill.
I stepped inside, careful not to touch anything, my hands clasped tightly in front of my chest.
"We'll be in my room... come," she said, heading up the stairs at the side of the living room.
I followed her closely, not wanting to end up in the wrong room or space. When I stepped into her room with her, I expected it to be neat—but then I remembered: girls here were like boys back in my old world, so the way her room was laid out suddenly made a lot of sense.
Dirty clothes were strewn across her bed, empty food wrappers littered the floor, and on her desk sat a monitor—probably part of her computer setup. The desk was also cluttered with a box of tissues and... some sort of pink toy? I didn't get a good look before she quickly shoved it into her drawer.
"So, uhh..." she muttered, sweeping the clothes off her bed with one arm before patting the spot beside her. "Sit here."
I nodded and sat down, careful not to touch anything else, my hands staying glued to my lap.
"Have you picked which fungi to study?" I asked, glancing at the notebook in her hands. It was covered in random doodles—and, for some reason, a poorly drawn penis. Odd.
"A-actually, I was thinking... maybe we could get to know each other more first," she said, her hand settling on my thigh. "We've got two whole weeks to work on it, after all..."
Instinct kicked in—I shifted away immediately, her hand slipping off my leg and landing softly on the bed between us.
"W-why did you do that?" she asked, frowning. A cold breeze drifted in through the open window, brushing across my forehead and making me shiver.
"Sorry... I just... I've had some bad experiences. I don't like being touched," I said, gripping my own shoulder as memories from two days ago resurfaced. I could still feel the faint marks that woman had left from grabbing me.
"O-oh, I'm sorry... I should've been more careful," she stammered, eyes flicking down at her hands.
"It's fine, don't worry," I reassured her, forcing a small smile. "I just... need to toughen up a bit."
She placed her notebook carefully on her desk and turned back to face me. For a moment, the room felt quieter, the hum of the outside world fading into the background.
"Have you... had a girlfriend before?" Sara asked suddenly, her voice soft but steady. The question caught me off guard, making my chest tighten and my mind race for an answer.
"No... my sister's been strict about that ever since our parents died when I was thirteen," I explained. "I haven't really thought about it. I'd like to be somewhat successful before even looking for love."
Her cheeks flushed faintly as she listened, and I could tell my words had caught her off guard.
"I'm sorry your parents died, Noah... I didn't know. That must have been terrible," she said softly, leaning slightly closer to me.
"It was a long time ago," I said, brushing it off. "I'm happy with just my sister now..." I leaned back slightly, putting a little distance between us and away from Sara's strong scent.
"Are you sure?" she asked, her fingers sliding from her lap to mine, tracing small patterns across my hands. She was testing my boundaries, pushing just enough to see my reaction—but I couldn't say anything without making things awkward.
But ultimately, I did so. "C-can you not?" I whined, jerking my hands back. She let out a small, audible sound, clearly caught off guard by uncomfortableness.
"Sorry... I-I just get nervous when I talk to a boy..."
Her nervousness made her reach out to touch me? Another red flag I needed to keep in mind.
"I think we should get the project out of the way first, and then get to know each other," I said, pulling a book out of my bag. Finally, some actual work—something to focus on instead of being touched.
"N-n-no, wait!" Sara stammered, shoving my book out of my hands and pinning me down on the bed.
Her hot breath pressed against my neck, burning against my skin. I needed to get out of here—fast.
"I-I'm sorry, Noah... I just... I can't control myself much longer," she whispered into my ear, her words sending a shiver down my spine.