TickleGiggleS
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There’s something about Friday nights at Liam’s place that never goes the way you expect. We started out with a plan—watch an action flick, demolish a bowl of popcorn, and zone out after a long week. Simple, right?
By the time the movie hit the thirty-minute mark, Mia had already stolen most of the popcorn, Liam had spilled soda on his carpet, and I’d stretched out like a king on his couch. Standard chaos.
When Mia got up for a drink, I barely looked away from the screen. A few seconds later, though, I heard her groan from the kitchen.
“Ugh, gross. I stepped in something.”
She came back holding her socks in one hand like they were contaminated. “Liam, your floor is a swamp. Seriously.”
“Probably from the ice I dropped earlier,” he said without even turning his head.
Mia sighed, tossed the socks near her bag, and collapsed beside me again. With no ceremony whatsoever, she swung her bare feet up onto the coffee table, legs crossed, toes wiggling.
That got Liam’s attention. He leaned forward, his smirk spreading like he’d just been handed a challenge. “Feet on the table? Really? Is this how you were raised?”
“It’s a table, not a throne,” Mia shot back.
“Not in this house,” Liam said, reaching forward. Before I could even process what he was about to do, he ran a single finger up her bare sole.
Mia yelped, jerking back so fast she nearly knocked over her glass. “Don’t! I’m serious, don’t do that! I’m really ticklish!”
I chuckled. I knew she was ticklish—her ribs were basically a no-go zone—but this was new. She was already squirming from one little poke.
Of course, to Liam, that was like waving a red flag in front of a bull.
“Ohhh,” he said, eyes lighting up. “You don’t just admit that in front of me. You’re doomed now.”
Before she could tuck her legs away, Liam grabbed both her ankles and locked them under his arm like a pro wrestler holding a submission move.
“Liam!” Mia shrieked, thrashing instantly. “Don’t you dare! I swear!”
“Too late,” he grinned, flexing his fingers like a cartoon villain. “Tickle attack!”
Then he went to work.
First came the slow tracing—just one finger dragging lazily up her arch. Mia collapsed back against the cushions, exploding into giggles.
“HAHAHAHA! No, stop! I can’t—!” she squealed, kicking but getting nowhere.
Next he unleashed the spider hands, all his fingers crawling across her soles like tiny legs.
“AAAHAHAHAHAHHAHHHH! Liam! Stop it! I can’t take it!” Mia screamed, her laughter bouncing off the walls. She tried to yank her feet free, but his grip was solid.
I couldn’t stop laughing myself. The sight of her flailing, clutching a pillow to her face, was pure comedy gold.
Then he switched to scribbling, his fingertips darting rapidly and chaotically across her toes and heels. That pushed her over the edge.
“AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAH! OH MY GOD! STOP, STOP, STOOOOP!” she shrieked, tears forming at the corners of her eyes from laughing so hard.
Liam was cackling right along with her. “This is unbelievable. You’re helpless! Someone get a stopwatch, I bet she can’t last two minutes!”
“NOOOOOO! AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH!” Mia shrieked, pounding the couch with her fists, twisting like she was fighting for her life.
I should’ve stepped in, probably. But honestly? Watching them was hilarious. The more she begged, the harder Liam tickled, and the more I laughed.
Finally, after what felt like forever but was really just a minute or two, Liam let her go. He raised his arms like a victorious wrestler. “And THAT is why you don’t put your feet on the table in my house.”
Mia collapsed sideways against me, gasping for breath, cheeks flushed, still giggling in aftershocks. “You’re insane. Both of you. I hate you.”
I put an arm around her shoulder, smirking. “Hey, don’t drag me into this. I was just observing.”
“You were enjoying it,” she shot back, poking my chest accusingly.
“Maybe a little,” I admitted.
She groaned and buried her face into me, still laughing. Liam leaned back in his chair, smug as ever.
The movie kept playing in the background, but none of us paid much attention. I had a feeling this was the part of the night we’d actually remember—the ridiculous, chaotic laughter, and Mia’s high-pitched “AHAHAHAHHAHHH” echoing in my ears.
By the time the movie hit the thirty-minute mark, Mia had already stolen most of the popcorn, Liam had spilled soda on his carpet, and I’d stretched out like a king on his couch. Standard chaos.
When Mia got up for a drink, I barely looked away from the screen. A few seconds later, though, I heard her groan from the kitchen.
“Ugh, gross. I stepped in something.”
She came back holding her socks in one hand like they were contaminated. “Liam, your floor is a swamp. Seriously.”
“Probably from the ice I dropped earlier,” he said without even turning his head.
Mia sighed, tossed the socks near her bag, and collapsed beside me again. With no ceremony whatsoever, she swung her bare feet up onto the coffee table, legs crossed, toes wiggling.
That got Liam’s attention. He leaned forward, his smirk spreading like he’d just been handed a challenge. “Feet on the table? Really? Is this how you were raised?”
“It’s a table, not a throne,” Mia shot back.
“Not in this house,” Liam said, reaching forward. Before I could even process what he was about to do, he ran a single finger up her bare sole.
Mia yelped, jerking back so fast she nearly knocked over her glass. “Don’t! I’m serious, don’t do that! I’m really ticklish!”
I chuckled. I knew she was ticklish—her ribs were basically a no-go zone—but this was new. She was already squirming from one little poke.
Of course, to Liam, that was like waving a red flag in front of a bull.
“Ohhh,” he said, eyes lighting up. “You don’t just admit that in front of me. You’re doomed now.”
Before she could tuck her legs away, Liam grabbed both her ankles and locked them under his arm like a pro wrestler holding a submission move.
“Liam!” Mia shrieked, thrashing instantly. “Don’t you dare! I swear!”
“Too late,” he grinned, flexing his fingers like a cartoon villain. “Tickle attack!”
Then he went to work.
First came the slow tracing—just one finger dragging lazily up her arch. Mia collapsed back against the cushions, exploding into giggles.
“HAHAHAHA! No, stop! I can’t—!” she squealed, kicking but getting nowhere.
Next he unleashed the spider hands, all his fingers crawling across her soles like tiny legs.
“AAAHAHAHAHAHHAHHHH! Liam! Stop it! I can’t take it!” Mia screamed, her laughter bouncing off the walls. She tried to yank her feet free, but his grip was solid.
I couldn’t stop laughing myself. The sight of her flailing, clutching a pillow to her face, was pure comedy gold.
Then he switched to scribbling, his fingertips darting rapidly and chaotically across her toes and heels. That pushed her over the edge.
“AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAH! OH MY GOD! STOP, STOP, STOOOOP!” she shrieked, tears forming at the corners of her eyes from laughing so hard.
Liam was cackling right along with her. “This is unbelievable. You’re helpless! Someone get a stopwatch, I bet she can’t last two minutes!”
“NOOOOOO! AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH!” Mia shrieked, pounding the couch with her fists, twisting like she was fighting for her life.
I should’ve stepped in, probably. But honestly? Watching them was hilarious. The more she begged, the harder Liam tickled, and the more I laughed.
Finally, after what felt like forever but was really just a minute or two, Liam let her go. He raised his arms like a victorious wrestler. “And THAT is why you don’t put your feet on the table in my house.”
Mia collapsed sideways against me, gasping for breath, cheeks flushed, still giggling in aftershocks. “You’re insane. Both of you. I hate you.”
I put an arm around her shoulder, smirking. “Hey, don’t drag me into this. I was just observing.”
“You were enjoying it,” she shot back, poking my chest accusingly.
“Maybe a little,” I admitted.
She groaned and buried her face into me, still laughing. Liam leaned back in his chair, smug as ever.
The movie kept playing in the background, but none of us paid much attention. I had a feeling this was the part of the night we’d actually remember—the ridiculous, chaotic laughter, and Mia’s high-pitched “AHAHAHAHHAHHH” echoing in my ears.
