Peyton leveled a look at him as she managed to contain her laughter. She still hadn’t been able to squirm out of reach, but it was a process. “I would,” she told him. “If you keep playing dirty like that. Never could beat me fair and square.” Her back settled back against the wall once she was free again.
“I don’t think you would be able to break in either. This whole place is locked tight.” Otherwise what was the point of using it as quarantine? Most everyone was here voluntarily and willingly, but that wasn’t a guaranteed. “You’re also assuming I’d want to see after that attack you just pulled.” It wasn’t the worst, but of her group of friends only Abram was likely to use tickling as a means of torture or otherwise. Sometimes he was just an overgrown kid, but the influence on her was probably a good though.
Crossing her ankles, she rested her head against the cool wall and tried to judge whether he was serious or lulling her into a false calm.
“Swear on your mama’s grave?” Peyton asked with seriousness. “You’d best not think you can be dishonorable and take back that promise ten minutes from now.” Though she probably should shoo him out before that, even if selfishly she liked the company and wanted to keep it indefinitely. She felt that way about every person that had come through to visit her. “No crossing your fingers behind your back to get out of it either.” That used to be her sister’s favorite trick whenever Peyton asked for a promise. She had doubts that that was still something Jenelle did; she had grown up a lot since Peyton moved away from the farm.
“You wouldn’t want to tarnish that golden soul of yours.” Her tone was dry, even if she couldn’t quite keep the corners of her mouth straight.