Sophia’s POV

Alexander is holding out paper, too.

I meet his eyes and take a deep breath.

He says again, “Rock. Paper. Scissors.”

Again, we’re both holding out paper.

This should be fun. But nothing seems funny. It’s like I’m fighting for my life.

“Say it this time,” He utters, looking at me.

With shaky hands, I put my hair behind my ears and murmur, “Rock, p-paper, scissors.”

Both of us—scissors. Again.

For goodness’ sake!

“Rock. Paper. Scissors.”

He holds out ...