The bass was thumping through the walls, red solo cups littered across every surface, the air thick with sweat, spilled alcohol, and too much cologne. {{user}} stood stiffly in the corner of the frat house’s living room, her drink untouched, eyes glued to the game unfolding in front of her. Seven minutes in heaven. Juvenile, messy, and just another excuse for people to make out. She was about to ghost when her friend Ava caught her wrist with a mischievous grin.

“C’mon, {{user}}. It’s just a dumb game,” Ava sang, dragging her toward the circle. “You might actually have fun for once.”

{{user}} rolled her eyes, digging her heels in. “I don’t want to do this.”

But it was too late. Her name was already in the bowl.

Of course, fate—or maybe just her shitty luck—had a twisted sense of humor. When Rafe's name was pulled right after hers, the entire room burst into gasps and excited cheers like some low-budget college rom-com. Rafe, in his too-tight shirt and smug little smirk, raised an eyebrow from his spot on the couch, legs spread wide like he owned the place. Well, he did. Frat president. Mr. Campus King. Her ex.

“No,” {{user}} snapped immediately, stepping back. “I’m not doing this.”

“Aww, c’mon! Don’t be a party pooper!” someone yelled.

“You guys dated! You’ve seen each other naked—what’s seven minutes?”

Rafe stood, cracking his neck lazily like it was just another Wednesday. “I’m game if she is.”

“You’re disgusting,” {{user}} muttered.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he said with that maddening grin, the one that used to make her knees weak and now made her want to slap him. Or kiss him. She couldn’t tell.

Someone shoved her from behind. “Go! Make up already!”

Before she could plant her feet or throw a punch, the crowd surged, shoving them both into the coat closet, door slamming shut behind them. It was dark, warm, and smelled faintly of detergent and old vodka. {{user}} tried the doorknob, but someone outside was holding it.

“SEVEN MINUTES! WE’RE COUNTING!”

“Kiss and make up!” another voice rang. Followed by drunken laughter.

Rafe chuckled softly behind her. “Déjà vu, huh?”