Rounding the bar area that separates my kitchen space from the living room, I lift the remote to turn off the Netflix movie we’d been watching.
“Let’s play a game.”
My grin widens at her expression.
“You put one more dish in that damn thing and I’m going to bend you over my knee,” I tell her as she attempts to place another bowl into the dishwasher.
Her eyes widen and that pretty mouth of hers opens. And suddenly, I’m assaulted by visions of her making that same face as my erection slides in and out, between those lips.
“Two truths and a lie,” I say before I can go any further with my daydream.
“I’ve never played.”
“How’d I know you’d say that?”
She shrugs, frowning.
“All you gotta do is throw out three different scenarios, one of which is a lie, and I have to guess what the lie is.”
“That’s it?”
Tilting my head, I give her a smirk.
She giggles and looks up at the brick ceiling. “Of course that’s not it.”
“You catch on quick. This is strip two truths and a lie. Whenever you guess the lie correctly, I strip. If you guess incorrectly, you have to strip, and vice versa.”
She silently laughs and shakes her head before shrugging. “Fine, but I’m going first.”
“Ladies always go first. They come first, too.” Laughing, I duck as she balls up and tosses the kitchen towel she was holding onto in my direction. It goes right over my head.
“All right, let’s see …” She pauses, thinking. “Can these be about anything?”
“Anything at all. You just have to make sure two scenarios are true and one is a lie.”
“Okay,” she says after thinking for a moment. “I’m afraid of the dark, I’m afraid of snakes, and I’m afraid of clowns.”
“That’s easy. The dark is the lie. Take your shirt off.”
She frowns. “How’d you know?”
“I’ve slept with you in the dark, remember? And you happily chose the zombie room earlier today knowing it was going to be dark. So snakes and clowns, huh? Take off the shirt,” I order again, moving closer.
She holds up her hand. “Yes, snakes and clowns.” She shivers. “And you didn’t say that you get to choose what item of clothing I take off.” Reaching up, she pulls the decorative scarf that’s tied around her neck off. She sets it on one of my wooden stools and gives me the eye.
“Okay, I see how we’re going to play this. I grew up in Williamsport, I grew up in foster care, I grew up with an older brother.”
“You grew up with an older brother is the lie.” She moves closer. “You’ve never talked about any siblings.”
I nod and pull off my shirt, tossing it on the couch to my left. When I face forward again she’s standing right in front of me.
“I didn’t know you grew up in foster care.”
I incline my head, feeling uneasy about sharing my truth with someone but also feeling relaxed about it at the same time. I want her to know more about me. Not the superficial, what I do for a living, what kind of car I drive type of bullshit. But all of me.
“From how young?”
“Since nearly two years old.”
