Twenty questions

"How about we play a game of twenty questions?" Katie asks Jack as she rubs the tip of her finger around the rim of her wine glass. Jack is unclear whether she's trying to be seductive or make the glass vibrate with some sort of sound like a middle school science experiment.

“Sure why not,” he replies maybe a little too unconvincingly for Katie's liking. 

“It'll be fun,” she tells him, sounding like she's convinced even if he clearly isn't. 

“OK well don't be offended if I pass on one or two.” 

Katie narrows her gaze, tilts her head to the right and purses her lips. Jack literally has no idea what that looks could mean so makes a mental note to begin to study body language. Silence descends like autumn mist over the dinner table. Jack feels the palms of his hands begin to perspire. Should he say something? Is she waiting for him to get a coin out of his pocket and toss it to see who goes first? Finally Katie opens her mouth to speak. “I'll go first if that's OK?”

“Oh please be my guest. Ladies first.”

“Such a gentleman, thank you. What do you think someone who knows you really well would say is your worst habit?”

“My worst habit? Oh, well, hmmmm.”

Jack screws his face up as he mulls over the answer. His eyes glance at her finger still tracing around the top of her wine glass which is incredibly distracting and he might suggest it's one of hers if he knew her better and wasn't trying to make a decent first impression upon her. Finally he decides on his answer. 

“Apologies if this is a little random but I um, I underline passages in books.”

Katie throws back her head as she laughs. Clearly she wasn't expecting that as an answer but finds it highly amusing nonetheless.

“OK so that's your worst habit? That doesn't seem to be so bad.”

“Tell that to the librarian when I've returned the books back.”

For a moment Katie can't tell by Jack's deadpan delivery whether he's being serious or not. She makes a mental note not to play him at poker anytime soon. 

“Hmmm so what's the last thing you underlined in a book?”

“Hang on, is this going to be you just asking me twenty questions?”

“Probably.”

“Oh OK well thank you for your honesty, I guess it'll save me having to come up with twenty questions if nothing else then.”

Katie laughs again. “You're pretty funny Jack. I like that.”

Jack feels his cheeks start to flush. Taking compliments is not his speciality in life it has to be said. He can't even bring himself to say thank you. Normally he'd argue the toss as to the opposite or try to change the subject but it's just dawned on him that maybe that's actually his worst habit. Instead he flashes a quick smile and nods his head in approval.

Katie stares at him for a few seconds and then raises her right eyebrow at the same time as she motions her chin to the right lifting the eyebrow higher as if to say well then, are you going to answer the question?

It clearly does the trick as Jack splutters to life like a car engine that's not been turned over in months. “Oh, yes, last line, last line, erm…honestly? Erm, I have… no idea but can I give you a line I can remember that I really liked instead?” He pulls a funny face slightly worrying she might say no which he soon realises is a really stupid thing to have thought and thoughts like that are what lead to stupid faces like the one he's pulling. Stop with the stupid face thing Jack he tells himself and tries to relax his facial muscles. 

“I think that would be deemed acceptable.”

Finally composed once more and no longer looking slightly constipated, Jack replies “Thank you. It was…and don't judge me too much for this but it tickled me…Truth is like poetry,” and he inserts a long pause and waits until Katie is just about to say something before delivering the coup de grâce “and most people fucking hate poetry.”

Katie lets out a loud “HAH!” and bangs her hand on the dinner table making the cutlery jump and clang back down which leads the majority of the fellow diners to turn around in her direction and stare. If Katie minds she doesn't show it but Jack's cheeks start to burn once more. Katie starts to giggle, Jack watches as her exposed shoulders start to move up and down entrancing him until the point he realises he's staring and thinks it might be a good idea to stop in case she thinks he's looking lower than where he actually is. 

“Truth is like poetry … and most people fucking hate poetry. Oh my God I love that. Jack you were right to underline that in your book. Who wrote that?”

“I knew you were going to ask me that? Does that count as question three?”

“Oh are you keeping count?”

“Well erm yes clearly, there's no point in lying but only because there's been three so far and it was quite easy. Well two actually but you know what I mean. Do you? Sorry, I shouldn't be presumptuous.”

“Say that again for me Jack?”

“Which part?”

“The last word.”

“Presumptuous?”

“Yes Jack but don't say it like you're asking a question, say it how you said it before.”

Jack pauses momentarily. How did he say it before? Saying something is easy when you're not thinking about it but as soon as you think about the delivery you realise why Daniel Day-Lewis has three Oscars for best male actor and you don't. So Jack says the first three words of the line in his head and then “presumptuous,” out loud which he's pretty sure is how he said it the first time around. 

“Perfect Jack. I could listen to you say big words to me all night. Tomorrow I'm going to buy a dictionary and a highlighter pen and I'm going to start to highlight all the big words I think would sound great and have you read them aloud to me.”

Jack can't hide the smile that appears incredibly large across his face at that moment. 

“Oh you like the idea Jack?”

“Well I like the idea that you want to see me again.”

“Smooth Jack. Very nice.”

“Well maybe not. I was about to add something like just to have me read words from a dictionary to you. Amazingly I managed to stop myself short of finishing.”

“That's another important skill all men need to have in other areas too Jack,” and she gives him a nodding look as if to say do you know what I mean? 

Jack isn't sure he knows what she means and she's still nodding her head and clearly he looks confused until the point she looks down to where his crotch would be if it wasn't hidden under the table and in a faux masculine voice she says “you know what I mean?”

Now utterly mortified he definitely now knows what she means. 

With a nod to the amazingly talented writer Michael Lewis who overheard the immortal line about truth and poetry in a bar and of course to whoever it was that actually said the line in the first instance.