↷☆ Everleigh Ramirez is a 16 year old, bubbly girl who lives with her 4 older brothers. She's reserved, thrives for academic validation and one of the sweetest souls. Despite being a teenage girl, her life is filled with twists and turns.
↷☆ The Ra...
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"Alex! Help me!" I yell, running around the large brown couch in the living room.
I breathe heavily as my my older brother, Liam, runs around it on the other side, trapping me on one half of the room. "Just tell me where it is and this will all be over, Everleigh" he huffs, opening his arms to try grab me from behind the couch.
"I don't know where it is!" I reply, hastily pretending to run left around the couch but actually running right. Much to my dismay, Liam predicted that and I ran straight into his domineering arms.
He traps his arms around my smaller frame and starts tickling my neck and stomach.
"Yes, you do! Alex wouldn't have taken my car keys since he doesn't need them, Ashton hasn't been home since the morning and Noah hasn't got his license. That just leaves you, missy" he gruffs as I squeal.
"F-fi-fine, s-stop" I laugh, my body contorting in different angles to get away from his ticklish hands.
He chuckles and stops tickling me but doesn't let go of his steady grip on my arm. "I didn't take your keys" I say once I catch my breath.
He scoffs and goes to start tickling me again but I jump back a little, with wide eyes "But I know who did!"
He leans back from me, his grip still on my arm, and raises an eyebrow, gesturing for me to continue. I sigh, "you can't tell him I told you."
"Fine."
"Promise?" I stick out my pinky and kiss the back of my hand. He lets go of the grip on my arms.
"I promise" he sighs, wrapping his much larger pinky finger around mine and gently kissing the back of his palm too.
I sigh again for the dramatics and whisper, "Ashton."
His jaw drops, "really? When did he take them?"
"This morning" I say.
He nods to himself before mischievously smirking, "Oh he is so dead."
"Liam!" I laugh and he shrugs with a smile.
---
"Hi, Ev. Want to try some of the pasta?" my eldest brother, Alexander, asks as he stirs the boiling pot of curly pasta.
I'm not good with pasta names.
I hum and walk over, gently tasting one and nod my head with a smile, "It's good".
He nods, "Good. Should I add more salt?"
"Nope, it's fine as it is" I smile, jumping to sit on the counter a few feet away from the oven.
I kick my legs back and forth as I watch him work on the tomato sauce. "So, how was your Saturday?" he asks, multi-tasking.
"Good. I did some homework, watched Gilmore girls, read a bit of my book, and- oh, that was it" I laugh, "but pretty good if I do say so myself. What about you?"
