The Game

"This is the worst one yet..." Heather thought to herself as she looked around the cheesy cowboy-themed bar he had chosen for their date.

He was on his second beer, and she was on her third glass of wine. It had been 45 minutes, and neither of them could seem to think of a single thing to talk about.

Her eyes landed on a rodeo poster; the picture of the cowboy on the bucking bull sparked some inspiration in her. Maybe she could save this date from being a complete disaster, or she could damn well make it worse, but at this point, there was nothing to lose.

"I know!" she shouted a little too enthusiastically, slamming her wine glass down on the table. "Let's play a game!"

Emmett eyed her suspiciously. She shot him a pleading look which he seemed to respond to. This date was a little too soon for both of them. Their friends Jack and Annette had good intentions when they fixed them up—Emmett had just gotten out of the military after a 3-year tour, and Heather had recently finalised her divorce.

Heather had been back in the dating circle for a while; using the internet to meet a prospective partner was proving less than fruitful, so she jumped at the opportunity to meet someone in a way that was a little more old fashioned. Plus, Emmett seemed like just her type... well, on paper. But the truth of it was, she wasn't entirely sure she was ready for anything serious again. Ten years in a loveless marriage will do that to a person. She wasn't exactly chomping at the bit for more of the trapped, claustrophobic feeling that had consumed her for longer than she cared to remember.

"Ok, fine. What's the game?"

Heather could already tell Emmett was a man of few words, so she hoped this little exercise might be right up his alley. The little he had said so far had definitely piqued her interest. He had a slow, southern drawl. She'd always been a sucker for an accent like that. To top it off, he looked like a cool drink of water on a scorching hot day. Yep, she was determined alright. This game was either gonna open him up or send him packing and three glasses of wine in; she was ready for either outcome.

"Bullshit."

"Excuse me?"

"The game... is Bullshit."

"Never heard of it..."

"Well, it's simple. I tell you something about myself, and you decide if it's true or not. If you think I'm lying, you call 'bullshit'. If you're right, I drink, and if you're wrong, you drink. Then vice versa—easy enough, right?"

Emmett nodded slowly before gesturing to the barmaid for another round. That was a good sign, Heather thought to herself. The barmaid had them over in a minute, and Heather had to stop herself from downing the whole thing before they even got started. The way Emmett was looking at her was suddenly making her nervous.

"Ladies first..." he said, the first hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Heather pursed her lips as she thought of what to say. It was always a tough choice as to whether you should lead with a lie or the truth. If you chose the truth, did you make it something unbelievable about yourself and admit it to a stranger? Or did you lie from the outset, risking getting them offside with your unwillingness to open up?

She settled on an unbelievable truth.

"Ok... Jack and Annette already told you I'm a writer. But what I'm betting they didn't tell you, because neither of them knows, is that I write erotic romance novels under a pen name that make 'fifty shades' look tame..."

That got his attention. His eyebrows lifted, and his eyes grew a little wider as he took in her statement. She took the opportunity the throw him a seductive smirk. After all, this was a date, and where was the harm in a little flirting?

After studying her for a solid five minutes, he finally spoke.

"I think you're telling the truth."

Heather gulped. She thought he would call bullshit on that one for sure. She said nothing and lifted her wine glass, tipping it in his direction and took a swig—Confirming his victory in the round.

She swore she could see something resembling an impressed look pass over his face at her admission.

"Ok, Soldier. Your turn..."

Emmett leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over and behind his head. He caught Heather's downward glance as the action pulled his shirt tight over his muscular frame. He smirked again in her direction. At first, he was dreading this date, and he had only agreed for Jack and Annette's sake. It would have been a lie if he said he wasn't pleasantly surprised when Heather walked into the bar. She was beautiful, and he immediately felt bad for setting their date at a shitty cowboy bar. But it was his local haunt and, oddly, the only place he felt comfortable since returning from his final tour.

He opted for a truth he didn't mind admitting to her. She had gone with something bold, and he respected that, and he found himself wanting to get to know more about her.

"I signed up for the military when I was 25. Before that, I had one girlfriend—my high school sweetheart, Sarah. We broke up when I left. This is my first date since then."

"Bullshit!" Heather all but yelled at him.

He had to chuckle to himself. He supposed he might've been offended that she assumed he was lying without even taking a hot minute to think it over, but it was fair. He probably wouldn't have believed him either.

"Well, Heather, that's two to none. Drink up." He shot her a cheeky wink, and her jaw almost hit the floor.

Heather took another swig of her wine, still in disbelief at what Emmett had just admitted to her. His first date since high school? No wonder he was awkward. She felt guilty for judging him so hastily.

"Ok..." she said before taking a moment to think over her next move. She had just admitted that she writes smutty fiction in her spare time straight off the bat to the guy who hasn't had a date since high school... This was going well. So she opted for something that made her a little more relatable and vulnerable if it were true, but that she secretly hoped he wouldn't immediately believe.

"I haven't had sex in almost five years..."

"You're an open book, Heather. Why'd you pick this game if you were so intent on letting me win? Bottoms up, darlin'."

"Shit." she muttered in frustration, "I was hoping that one might seem at least a little unbelievable..."

"Don't get me wrong. I'm surprised, but I also know you're not lying."

"Ok... you've technically won if we were going best out of five, but what do you say you humour me? Give me one last shot at winning a round?"

Emmett smiled his first genuine smile of the evening. He liked Heather, but he wasn't convinced she would like him all that much after his next admission.

"Alright. One more, besides, that makes us even..."

Boy, she was pretty when she smiled, he thought to himself as her face lit up at his words.

"Well... When I was in the military, I discovered fairly quickly I had a natural talent... You see, I'm pretty good at reading people. So good, they trained me in interrogation. I've spent the better part of the last 8 years making a living out of being able to tell if people are lying or not..."

Heather stared at Emmett blankly for a few seconds, blinking rapidly as she processed what he had said. She looked at her now almost empty wine glass and then back at him and burst out laughing. The sound was music to Emmett's ears, and he let out the breath he didn't realise he was holding.

"Well, I'll be damned", she managed between cackles. "That explains why you were so willing to play with me."

"So, I don't even get an answer on that one?" He said, trying his best to act innocent.

She looked at him knowingly and picked up her wine glass. She winked at him and said the only thing left to say before downing the remainder of her drink.

"Bullshit."