Chapter 6
I enter the tree house, surprised to find Zilphia curled up on the futon. She usually doesn’t sneak out until around eleven or twelve.
“Hey,” I say, smiling at her. “Eager to see me, huh?”
“Yeah.” She pads across the wooden floor and wraps her arms around me. “Rough day.”
I hold her tight against my chest, relishing the feel of her in my arms. “Wanna talk about it?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
I pull back and frown, noticing the bruise on her forehead. “What happened?” I ask, softly brushing my thumb over the raw skin. My stomach knots with rage. I don’t need to ask who the culprit is.
“Nothing.” She sighs, blinking back tears. “Same ole, same ole.”
“It’s not nothing, Zilphia.”
She shrugs and returns to the futon, pulling her legs to her chest. “What does it matter? I’m stuck here until I graduate.”
I sit beside her. “Let’s run away,” I say, needing to get her away from her toxic family. “Tonight. We can—”
Zilphia presses her slender fingers to my lips. “Sam, please. Just drop it.”
I nod because I can’t stand seeing the sadness in her brown eyes. “Okay.”
“Sam,” she hesitates. “Today… at school. You can’t look at me like that. People will talk.”
“Don’t give a fuck,” I reply tightly, rolling my hands into fists. “Let them.”
“Well, I do!” she exclaims, desperation in her voice. “You were watching me like… like…”
I cup her cotton-soft cheek. “I can’t help it. You’re beautiful.”
“Don’t.” She stands and walks away, keeping her back to me. “If my mother finds out about our friendship, we’ll never see each other again.”
Zilphia’s words are a cold dose of reality. I know she’s right. Mrs. Kensley would transfer her daughter to another school just to keep her away from the likes of me.
I saunter over to Zilphia and grasp her shoulder, turning her around to face me. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I promise.”
I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Zilphia in my life.
“Thank you, Sam.”
“Don’t mention it.” I glance back at the board games stacked on top of the bookshelf. “Chess?”
A faint smile tugs at her lips. “Yeah.”
I grab the box and arrange the pieces on the table. “Get ready to lose.”
She playfully swats my arm. “Hey, I’ve been getting better.”
Three games in and she hasn’t won yet. I have no problem rubbing it in either.
“Checkmate!” I crow in triumph. “Three wins in a row.”
“Hey, not so fast, the game isn’t over yet,” Zilphia grumbles, flinging a rook at me.
I catch it. “Have some dignity, girl, and accept your defeat gracefully.”
Her fiery gaze narrows on me. “You’re a real butthole, Sam.”
“Dang, is the name-calling necessary?” I ask, feigning hurt.
“If you shut your big fat mouth, I could concentrate,” she snaps, hurling a bishop this time, striking me in the nose.
“Ouch,” I whine, rubbing the spot where the piece landed.
“Not another word,” she hisses, pointing a finger at me.
“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.”
“Okay.”
“I, Zilphia Kensley, acknowledge Samuel Hendricks as master of all board games.”
“I’ll say it, but it’s not—” I go for her belly again. “Okay, okay! Don’t be so rash.” She fakes a cough, then clears her throat with a dramatic flair. “I, Zilphia Kensley, acknowledge Samuel Hendricks as master of all board games.”
“See, that wasn’t so hard,” I tease, gliding my thumb over her bottom lip.
She playfully nips at it, sending a violent jolt straight to my gut. Suddenly, our innocent banter ventures into forbidden territory, and I become acutely aware of my lean body pressed flush against her delicate curves. We’re so close that my reflection shines clearly in her soulful brown depths.
“Sam,” she gasps in a breathless whisper, feeling the shift too.
“Zilphia,” I murmur and gingerly seal my mouth to hers.
Flames dance through my veins the moment our lips touch, unleashing an explosion of need through my body.
Zilphia lies motionless beneath me. My heart skips a beat, afraid she’ll pull away from me.
But she doesn’t—she burrows her slender fingers through my hair and kisses me back.
I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long, but I never truly believed it would happen.
I want to shout. Tell the world that Zilphia is mine.
Blood swooshes in my ears as my cock grows hard against her.
I push my tongue deep into her mouth and nudge my hips between her thighs, pressing my length against her warm center.
I want to devour every inch of her. Her moans encourage me to delve my hand beneath her camisole, but before I can reach her breasts, she tears her mouth away.
“Stop!” she cries, pushing at my shoulders.
I sit back on my haunches as she frantically scurries to the nearest corner. “I’m sorry,” I start, but that’s a lie. I’d do it again. “No, you know what? I’m not sorry.”
“You have to go.”
“Why?” I growl, my nails biting into my palms. The pain keeps me in place; otherwise, I would’ve gone after her.
“Please, Sam,” she begs.
I leave, though my heart and mind rebel against it.