Will threw back the hood of his Sonic the Hedgehog sweatshirt, so he could see better. He took his fighting stance, his shoes flashed blue lights.
Emma’s tiny, pink nails disappeared as she curled them into a fist and rested it on her other palm. The massive, purple bow her mom had neatly secured that morning slipped sideways, and wisps of blonde hair escaped in all directions.
“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot,” they shouted together.
They were married before their feet hit the mulch on that playground. By spinning in a circle, of course. They went from mischievous toddlers who giggled and created chaos at their babysitter’s house to “big kids” with backpacks and school supplies.
“Paper covers rock, I win again!” Pink-tipped hands waved in the air as Emma celebrated her victory.
Will pretended to be mad, kicking the black mulch under his feet and running away to play with his best friend, who told him to break up with her. Will didn’t listen, not even when she chased him around the swings trying to put lipstick on him.
They posed for pictures at prom and graduation. College separated them. The promised phone calls got lost in homework, parties, and friends.
***
Will met someone new. A girl from his Algebra class. Her name was Madison, but he called her Maddie. Her hair was dark, and her eyes, deep brown. She had a big laugh. Her fingernails were always red. Most of the time, they agreed on things. They both liked pepperoni pizza and hated onions. She even liked action movies. Then, one night he wanted Mexican, and she wanted Chinese.
“I have an idea,” Will said. He held his palm out in front of him and placed his fist on top of it. “Let’s play for it.”
Maddie’s dark eyebrows knit together, and her rose-colored lips twisted into a frown. “Can we just make a grown-up decision?”
“Oh, come on. You’re not scared of losing, are you?” Will gave her another smile.
Maddie sighed and put her hands out. Her wrists were limp, and her fingers were loosely curled into more of a c shape than a fist. Her brown eyes filled with impatience.
“Paper, scissors, rock, shoot!” Will shouted alone.
***
In the summer, Will worked at the local grocery store back home. One afternoon, a slender hand with light pink nails slid a bag of Doritos and a Gatorade onto the belt of his checkout counter. Emma’s blonde hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and her blue eyes sparkled with delight at seeing him. She squealed and darted behind the counter to wrap him in a warm hug.
The next day, Emma came back for a frozen pizza and a Pepsi. The day after that, she bought a large bag of Cheez-its.
“You know most people buy things all at one time,” Will said, handing her the plastic bag of snacks.
Emma shrugged. “Guess I’m just forgetful.”
“I’m off tomorrow. Think you’ll forget to buy ice cream?”
She smiled. “Are you asking me on a date?”
“Would you say yes?” Will’s cheeks grew hot under her gaze.
“If you can beat me,” she said. Emma placed her fist firmly on top of her upturned palm and raised an eyebrow in challenge.
“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” they shouted together.
***
A few years later, they stood in front of the swing set on their old elementary playground. Her hair fell past her shoulders in loose waves. A purple scrunchie wrapped around her wrist, and her fingernails were hot pink.
Will’s heart thumped in his chest. He dropped to one knee. Black mulch pressed against his leg through his jeans. Her eyes were clear blue as the summer sky above them. He coughed to loosen the words that were stuck in his throat.
“Marry me?” His voice wavered with nervousness. The velvet ring box was heavy in his sweaty palm. The air was still. The birds stopped chirping as if they were waiting for her response. His lungs burned from holding his breath.
Emma’s eyes twinkled with mischief. Her lips slowly stretched into a playful grin. She held her hand out, palm up. “You know the deal.”
He leaned his head back and a groan rumbled in his throat. “You can’t be serious.”
“What? Are you scared of a girl?” Her cheeks were tinged with pink.
He raised an eyebrow, set the ring box on the ground. He wasn’t going to let her win this time. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.”
Brittney Lynn is a therapist and mom of two that enjoys writing commercial fiction in her every elusive free time.
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