You should have known this was a bad idea. Sitting in a circle with your friends, half-drunk, playing seven minutes in heaven for the nostalgia of it all — you thought it would be harmless.

But then the bottle spun. And of course it stopped right on him.

Xaden.

The tattooed, annoyingly hot, brown-eyed menace himself. He was lounging back like he owned the room, that smug grin crawling over his face the second he saw where the bottle pointed.

“No way.” you said immediately, shaking your head.

“I agree,” he said, voice low and infuriatingly calm as he stood. “but Rules are rules.”

You stumbled in, arms crossed, glaring at him as he leaned against the wall like he wasn’t the single most frustrating person you’d ever met.

“This is so stupid,” you muttered.

He smirked, stepping closer. “Maybe. But you look way too nervous for someone who ‘hates me.’”