Enclosed part 8 (short story)

Red sauce splattered down Mitch's sweatshirt. He threw up his hands, "Fabulous!" he muttered loudly. I laughed and threw him some napkins. He attempted to wipe it off, but it looked like it was going to stain. I glanced at Violet, waiting for her to make some witty comment on how he looked like he had been shot in the chest by Chuck Norris or something, but she said nothing. "Violet?" I said. "Hmmmm?" she replied, barely opening her eyes and picking her head up from her arms as she lay next to her now-empty plate on the table. "You should get some sleep, Vi," Mitch said, still wiping at the sauce. She sat up, attempting to widen here eyes. "No, no, I'm-" (yawn,) "fine. I'm fine. I am-" (yawn again,) "not...tired...at all." She yawned again and stood up, scootling over to the living room and falling down on a couch, pulling a blanket over herself and positioning the couch cushion to her liking. Mitch and I brought our dishes to the sink and then went over to the couches, watching as Violet fell asleep. Soon enough, she was once-again sleep-breathing, but this time, she was really out of it. Mitch scooped her up in his arms and walked towards the staircase. He turned to me, "Could you open her bedroom door for me?" he asked. I nodded quickly, "Of course!" and ran ahead of him, (you guessed it, tripping all the way, which he chuckled at,) and then finally opened the door to her musky rose scented bedroom. He put her on the bed, pulling off her shoes and socks and carefully taking her jacket off, (I thought he might even take her bra off for her, because who wants to sleep in a bra?, but as he was a brother, he had no experiences with bras and would probably feel weird doing that anyway. Frankly, I would feel weird if he did do that. Creepy. Why did I even think of that? Why am I telling you this? Who are you, anyway? Why do I tell you everything that happens in my life?!) I was totally impressed by what a sweet brother he was being, but my heart just melted when he positioned her pillow under her, pulled the covers over her, and kissed her lightly on the forehead. It was one of those moments where you just want to go, "Awwwww!", but obviously never actually do. Unfortunately, I actually did. "Awwwww!" I swooned. He turned and looked at me like I had grown a duck bill and was breaking out in a purple rash from head to toe. "Sorry," I muttered, my face turning red as a beet, (rather than purple.) He smiled and said, "You're cute when you turn red," which of course made me turn even redder. "Um...ok. Thanks, I guess." Mitch stepped out of the room, closing the door. "Should we go to bed now, too?" I asked, looking up at him. He shrugged, "I'm not tired. Are you?" I couldn't help but smile as he pulled off his pizza stained sweatshirt, throwing it in the direction of the laundry room, and turned to face me in his body-fitting band shirt. "Nope." Mitch shrugged again, "Ok, so what do you want to do?" I narrowed my eyes at him, smiling wider. "Truth or dare."

"Oh my goodness, this should be interesting."

© 2010