Young Writers Society

Evaline found herself staring at James, and the eye contact between the two of them seemed a bit intense as they both held their ground. She set her elbows on her legs as she placed her chin on top of her interlaced hands, trying to think.

She wanted to say that the lie was playing the harmonica, but she was wary of the fact that he mentioned this after she mentioned she knew how to play the piano. It was possible that truth popped in his mind because of that. James didn't seem like a musical guy, but he did reveal that he knew how to dance, so anything was possible.

And then the cricket. This seemed like the truth since he wanted to live off the land, but he mentioned alive. Doubt began to seep in.

Now, was he right or left handed? Or perhaps both? Just a few minutes ago, they both stood up to dance. And then James offered a hand out for her to take. Which hand was it?

She broke eye contact to look down at his arms, trying to picture him standing up and offering a hand with that smug smile of his. And then, she remembered—it was his right hand.

It was natural to reach out with your dominant hand, but it still didn't mean that was the case. She tried to remember how he he got up on Elliot, or which hand he used when he reached out for her to get on too, but it was all a blur. She didn't have the time to fully remember, and even then, she wasn't sure she could since that occurred days ago.

But still, it seemed somewhat safe to assume he was right handed. For now.

"You're right handed," she finally said, feeling confident as her smug smile returned once again. "You probably shouldn't have used that as the lie right after we danced."

James stared back at her, stubbornly holding her gaze as his pride withered, and he continued to carefully keep his face neutral. He would take his defeat with grace, and not be sour about it. He had to keep playing the game by the rules. Besides, it was all silly facts anyway. Nothing of consequence.

He grinned.

Even though dancing tipped Eve off as to which was his dominant hand, he would never take back that moment.

"Oops," he said with a small shrug. "My mistake."

Evaline felt victorious, mentally making the note that they were both even right now, even though this game had no point system or really any way to win.

But then her grin faded into one of disgust as she remembered one of his truths. "So, you ate a cricket. Alive. Why would you do that?"

She probably came out a bit brash, especially after they had shared an admittedly intimate moment together, but it still blew her mind that Nye was not against cruelty to all living beings.

James laughed and looked down, shaking his head.

“It was a stupid dare, and I was a teenager,” he said. It was one of the few random memories he had from his teen years. It was hard to forget.

He looked back up at Evaline with a small shrug and what was almost a bashful smile, but he quickly masked confidence.

“And if it’s any consolation, it was a quick death for the little thing, at least.”

The look of disapproval washed away as Evaline listened. "Hmm. I guess that's acceptable. We've all done dumb things as kids."

She looked back at him with a hint of a smile, and it occurred to her that she could ask another question about his youthful years. But she didn't know what exactly she should be fishing for, so instead she decided to focus on a different subject.

"Harmonica, huh?" she said, leaning back again. "We could have played a duet. Imagine that."

Her smile widened as she imagined the thought. "Do you have it with you?"

James blinked, and he kept his eyes from flicking to Elliot's saddle, and the saddlebags hanging off them. His smile faded a little. Even his few seconds of hesitation were telling, though.

"Yes," he answered.

Evaline waited for him to offer to play, but he didn't say anything else, and she was getting antsy.

"Well, that's hard to believe," she teased, lightly mocking him. "Prove it."

James bit the inside of his lip as his mouth pursed into an almost-smile and he got to his feet. "Well. Hard to argue with that," he said, turning away to hide his smile as he closed his eyes for a moment and sighed.

He bent down beside his saddlebags and found the harmonica right where he'd left it, buried under everything after the events of the last few days. It didn't feel quite right to just pull it out for no reason, and he'd been too preoccupied with Evaline being around that he didn't even feel like bringing it up. Until now, that was.

He walked back over to the fire and sat in front of her, showing her the harmonica for a moment, as if to prove to her that it was real, or show her what it looked like if she'd never seen one. Then, he lifted it to his lips and cupped the back of it with his other hand, and he started to play.


The thing was, James didn't really know many songs. Everything he played was just what he figured out over time. Many, many hours and many, many days spent alone left him a lot of time to practice and find different melodies of his own, but he'd forgotten many songs from back home - not that he could even call it home, really, anymore.

He kept his eyes closed as he played, not really wanting to see Evaline's reaction, and not sure if he could focus otherwise, with someone watching.

He was so used to playing for himself that it was weird with an audience.

When he finished, he looked down at the ground and tucked the harmonica into his front chest pocket. He then looked up at Evaline.

She was out of questions, and it was still his turn, but he needed a moment to think.

Evaline listened intently, letting the music fill the space around them. There was something charming about watching James stay sharply focused while playing the harmonica in front of a campfire.

"I haven't heard someone play the harmonica properly before," she said when he finished. She almost went on a tangent about how her experiences with a harmonica only included horrid sounds of kids pretending that they knew how to play, but instead she blurted out, "I like it when you play."

She only realized after the words came out that it was a dumb-sounding compliment, and she felt a little embarrassed and on edge, looking away and fidgeting with her fingers as she waited for him to continue on with his turn.

James nodded and offered her a small smile. "Thanks. It helps to kill time," he said, before taking in a deep breath, straightening up a little, and returning his mind back to the present game at hand.

"Alright. Second round."

"I've shaved my head. I hate fashion. I hate chocolate."

Evaline drummed her fingers along the ground, trying to think this through.

James, shaving his head. It was hard to picture, but it seemed believable since he was wanted and all.

James, hating fashion. Yep, that was believable, no doubt about it.

James, hating chocolate. Most people liked chocolate, and plus, of all three options, this seemed closest to the lie.

"You hate chocolate," she answered rather quickly compared to the previous round. "That's the lie."

Finally.

A smug grin grew on his face and he raised his eyebrows.

“But you see, actually, that’s a truth,” he said. “I do hate chocolate. I find it disgusting and fail to see its appeal. Of course, I have no issues with other people consuming it. I simply won’t eat it myself.”

Evaline found herself glaring at James, feeling defeated. She was sure this was the lie, mostly because she had a hard time believing the other statements.

She decided to not comment on his chocolate hate, instead sitting up straight with her arms crossed. "Tell me the lie," she said.

"I hate fashion is the lie," he said, resting his chin in one palm. "Believe it or not, when I can afford it, I do have opinions on clothing, and I would like to dress nice. It just hasn't been a priority."

First, she learned he could dance. Now, she learned he liked fashion. This game was truly enlightening.

Evaline stared at him and tried to imagine James being the fashionista of the two. Even if she herself wasn't particularly fond of fashion—she just had a threshold of what not to wear, really—she just couldn't imagine James being the stylish one. Or really, stylish in general. She pretty much permanently saw him potentially wearing farmer attire or worn-down clothes as a nomad, neither of which would be considered fashionable.

She had a bunch of questions for him, but one in particular burned in her mind.

"Opinions on clothing," she mused out loud, repeating what he said. She relaxed her posture, moving her bent legs to the other side of her body. "What are your opinions on my clothes then?"