04 | Rock, Paper, Scissors

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"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!"

Nolan propped his face up with a fist, bored eyes on Nora and Andy as they played their fifteenth round of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Nora had proved to be particularly terrible at the game. She hadn't won a single round. However, that hadn't seemed to dampen her enthusiasm—on the contrary, her determination only seemed to grow.

"How do you keep doing this?" she demanded when Andy's scissors beat her paper. Again.

"You just suck," Andy said.

"Hurtful." She looked at Nolan. "Nolan! Can you come play him so I can assure myself it's not just me?"

"She doesn't mind living her life in a lie," Max said. He was on the floor, along with Erin, in the middle of an intense game of Spit. Caleb and Sam had joined them, watching the game with glee.

The airport wasn't too busy today, and those that did pass by didn't pay their group any mind. Other people were on the floor, too, or sprawled across multiple chairs, dozing.

Nolan forced himself out of his seat and crossed over to Nora and Andy. If he was going to spend the day with them, might as well not make it any more awkward than it had to be.

He claimed the spot on Andy's opposite side and held out his palm, fist resting on top of it. Andy did the same.

"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!"

On instinct, Nolan unfurled his fingers. Paper.

"See?" Andy said, his fist still intact. Rock. "You just suck."

"Lemme try."

Nora leaned over Andy, fist over palm.

"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!"

Nolan retained his fist. Rock.

"Aw!" Nora laughed as Nolan bopped her scissors. "Well, it looks like I won't be playing professional Rock, Paper, Scissors anytime soon."

"Sucks, because that career path is bursting with opportunities," Max said.

"Dang."

Nolan's lips twitched.

"Guys, it's eleven-thirty!" Mr. Sison announced. He, his wife, Rosamie, and his kids, Faith and Daniel—who didn't look to be much younger than Nolan and the others; maybe thirteen and fifteen to their seventeen—lined the seats next to Nora's. Even before he finished his sentence, Faith was grabbing for a handmade WELCOME BACK, WILLOW! sign from underneath her seat. She had more artistic talent at thirteen than he could ever hope to have. When he still made short films, his storyboards were little more than stick people.

Games were abandoned and cleaned, and everyone was ushered out of their seats. "Daniel, come on," Rosamie said. She patted his shoulder, and he grudgingly stuffed his phone into his pocket. He seemed to be the only one who wanted to be there less than Nolan.

They headed for the gate, laughter in the air.

"I wonder if her jet lag is going to be as bad as last time," Erin mused.

"I hope so," Max said.

"That shit was hilarious."

"Swear jar."

Andy cursed under his breath, which prompted another "Swear jar!" and a disapproving look from Rosamie.

"Sorry, Rosamie," Andy said.

She grinned. "What will we do with you, Andrew?"

"My mom's been trying to figure that one out for years."

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