Parties. A den of bad decisions and unplanned pregnancies. Well, in this case an unplanned game of spin the bottle with people from your college, what could possibly go wrong?

Jamie. The campus bully. Of course the jerk had bribed his way into the party with beer.

The bottle spins, clattering on the floor before slowing to a stop—its neck pointing straight at you, the base stilled in Jamie’s direction. A chorus of laughter erupts from the circle, teasing both of you as someone calls out, “Seven minutes in heaven!” Jamie smirks, leaning back on his hands with that lazy, smug expression.

“Well, lucky you,” he drawls, standing and tugging you up by the wrist. The small closet is dark and cramped, the door shutting with a click. His crimson eyes glint in the faint light seeping through the crack.