“Aight, you got it.” I slash my index finger and thumb across my lips in a zipping motion.
“Good.” Zilphia’s perfectly shaped eyebrows dip over her vibrant, dark-maple gaze as she intently studies the brown-and-beige checkered board.
My lips flatten into a thin line to keep my amusement in check. I don’t want another chess piece thrown at my face.
Minutes tick by, but Zilphia hasn’t attempted a single move. There’s no way she’s going to win. She’s done and knows it, but is too freaking stubborn to admit the inevitable.
I yawn dramatically, stretching my arms high above my head. “Sometime this century, please.”
She growls in frustration and flips the chessboard, scattering the chess pieces across the worn floor.
“I can’t believe you did that,” I say, gawking at her in disbelief.
Zilphia’s lips lift in a self-satisfied smirk. “Now no one wins.”
“Oh, you’re in for it now.” I wiggle my fingers, and apprehension immediately replaces her glee. “Prepare to be tickled until you pee your pants.”
“I’m sorry,” she squeaks, scrambling backward on her bottom.
I move to my knees and inch after her. “It’s too late for apologies.”
“Sam, don’t.” Her eyes shift between my wiggling fingers and the door.
I arch a knowing eyebrow. “You wouldn’t make it one step.”
“I’ll do your homework for a week,” she offers, sweeping her tongue across her plump bottom lip.
I shake my head. “Nah, not good enough.”
“Two weeks?” she asks, aiming to sweeten the pot.
“Nope,” I reply, drawing out the P. “You should’ve just taken the L.”
“Three weeks then? Please, Sam!” she pleads, holding a hand up to ward me off. “You know I can’t take being tickled.”
“Welp, you should’ve thought about that before acting like a brat.” I shrug, closing in on her.
“I’ll bake you a humongous strawberry shortcake with extra strawberries and whipped cream,” she says, upping the ante. “Just how you like it.”
“Mmm… humongous, huh?” I grip my chin contemplatively. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“And I’ll do your homework for a whole month too,” she adds, her posture visibly relaxing. “Think about—”
I lunge at her, shamelessly using her false sense of security to my advantage. Zilphia’s high-pitched yelp resounds in the tree house as she tries to scuttle away.
“No, you don’t.” My long fingers dig into her midsection mercilessly.
“Sam, stop! I can’t breathe!” Zilphia laughs uncontrollably while trying to pry my hands away from her belly. “I’m sorry, okay? I promise never to act like a brat again.”
“Shh… you’re going to wake up the entire neighborhood,” I warn in a teasing tone.
“Then quit tickling me!” she shouts, crying tears of laughter. “My kidneys are going to burst!”
“Okay, but under one condition.”
“Anything you want,” Zilphia readily agrees between gasping breaths. “Just name it.”
“Repeat after me.”
