My Kids And I

Day Two In Nigeria: continued✔

Yeah...yea, I know I took so long to update and seriously, I'm sincerely sorry. Been quite busy and all that kinda stuff and writers block?. Oh man, it's been such a pain in the head. 😖😙

So...please manage this chapee 👌. 

Enjoy!

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"Mitch!...Josh!"

Chandra's beckoning calls trailed far behind us even after I had reluctantly pulled out–scratch that –its more like, dragged out the last travelling bag out the room and Josh had, painstakingly, shut the door in her face.

What the fuck is her problem?. What exactly does she want us to do just so she can come with us?!

"Mitch, trust me. She's gonna change her mind. She can't bear the thought of us leav'n her behind" Josh spoke,  a slight accent to his tone with a smirk visible on his face while he adjusted the poker dotted bandana strapped across his dark rich hair. His dark hair, alongside his skin color is what I'd call the only evidence that kind-of link him in anyway, to being born of an African mother and British dad. Same could be said for myself and Chandra but the only difference is our outstanding eye colors.

His orbs bore an exceptional greyish glow too mesmerising for a guy to possess and we, the girls share a pale brown eye color with light skin. 

"You're right" I pop in reply, tucking my phone into the right side of my denim jeans "I dunno know why she's been so irrational here. Like...WTF is her problem?"

Clenching my wrist a little too tightly in unconcealed anger, I yank harder on the bag, taking smart calculating steps down the silverly sparkling staircase, Josh trailing behind with a similar, yet heavier-looking bag behind.

'I really hope Chandra changes her mind already' I tsk to myself as I climb down another step 'It's not like we can leave this damn country without her. We just can't–'

"Mitchhh!. Joshhh!" The audible sounds of a door– I suspect to be the door to our bedroom –flutters open and close, the claps of her flip-flops tapping hastily against the tiled floors echoing from behind.  "You guys are making a big mistake!"

Nah. I don't think so

"Where's that juvenile P. A?" I ask as I take a smart leap off each stair

"There"

Oh!. There she is!. Her slender shoulders are visible from adjacent, plopped up against the cushion comfortably, legs clothed in slit jean trousers crossed exquisitely over the other, a phone pressed to her left ear. Red lipstick-painted lips are also visible from our angle and I can't help but wonder what exactly ladies find so fascinating about over-making up their faces like they're going for a bash party or clubbing when they know fully well that they're stuck up at home