A Perfect Stitch

Chapter 40 | making family memories

It should have been bedtime for most of us, especially Dwain and myself since we weren't lucky enough to have a proper nap on the plane but Dwain seemed energized tonight, partaking in many of his family's mind-blowing games.

The household was bent on making the best of fun out of their night.

Minutes here and there, harmless and careless yarns fought out of my rounded lips, greasing the soft folds of my palms.

I flattened a white cushion to my chest, crossed my legs over one of the red sofa seats in the living room, and whirled a pleasant smile on my lips.

I craved to close my eyes so badly, but the fun kept inviting my soul.

The rocking of hips by a greater majority of the household to a crazy pop sound could kidnap anyone's attention at first peek.

But in light of this hyper-captivating dance going on, a nutty siblings' fight picked up quite quickly, hypnotizing its spectators and putting them at the edge of their seats for a good amount of time.

I stifled my back to the sofa and drowsiness slipped to the back of my mind.

Liam, in his pajamas, lifted himself from the rug and stood his feet firm on the sliding floor.

On the other hand, Leonard fell to the floor, a dramatic scream escalating from his lips and he crawled to the brown coffee table.

He snorted and roared as loud as he could, one could think of him as a native warrior having ice cubes in his pants.

His moves had me crying before time.

Liam hoped on Leonard's back, and held firm to the guy's broad shoulders, before balancing a cushion in one hand and letting out a barbaric scream, while Dwain mimicked Leonard's rough roar, but didn't snort and Brielle clung to Dwain's back with a pillow balanced in her free hand.

Her face was poised like that of a soldier preparing for war in Afghanistan.

Would this get any better?

I couldn't wait to find out as my eyes darted from each opponent to the other in a steady gaze.

Those who hunched to the floor served as horses for the knights in shining armor who had as weapons, pillows, to knock down their opponents from their horses.

Knight Liam on his horse Leonard, and Knight Brielle on her horse Dwain.

The clash was hot, why not grab some entertainment?

I picked up a bowl of spicy chips, balanced it on my thighs, and piled a hand full in my mouth, my eyes not leaving the scenario ahead of me.

Respective knights from each of the teams had the liberty of slamming a pillow on their opponent's horse, not on his/her competing knight's face.

A couple of seconds later, Leonard's moans from the hits he received acted like feathers fluttering upon my ribs, tickling my sanity.

What did I look like?

Picture a baboon in labor.

My face was red like a tomato.

Liam stooped to the floor and grabbed a second pillow from across the room, then squealed at the top of his voice before sandwiching Dwain's head in between his pillows.

Not creepy?

Brielle's pillow slid out of her hands and her palm connected itself with Leonard's dimpled cheek in a brutal spank that marked him on the spot, clearing whatsoever alcohol he had looming in his system.