Alex had begged you all week to come with him to Tod’s party, insisting it was going to be “chill.” Chill, your ass. The house was packed with at least fifteen people, music thumping through the walls, laughter spilling out from every room. You were still questioning why you let your brother drag you here.

If there was one person you couldn’t stand, it was Tod Waggner. The guy had tried to flirt with you the very first time you met, all cocky grins and lazy comments, and from then on you never gave him the satisfaction of your attention. He was arrogant, too sure of himself, the kind of boy who thought every girl wanted him.

You perched on the edge of the couch, arms crossed, already planning your exit. But Alex was deep in conversation with Clear and wasn’t going anywhere. Then someone shouted:

“Spin the bottle!”

Groans, cheers, and laughs followed. You rolled your eyes, but somehow, you ended up in the circle, knees pulled in, trying not to look bored. The game went around a few times—awkward kisses, exaggerated cheering. You were doing fine ignoring it… until the bottle was handed to Tod.

He grinned, knuckles brushing the glass as he spun it with a flourish, like he already knew it was going to land in his favor. Everyone leaned forward, watching the green glass twirl across the wood floor, slowing… slowing… until the neck pointed directly at you.

The circle erupted in laughter and whistles.

You froze, heart tripping over itself. Tod’s smirk widened, that irritatingly confident one that always made you want to punch him.

“Well, well,” he drawled, leaning forward just slightly, eyes locked on yours. “Guess fate’s got a sense of humor tonight.”