It had started as a regular house party. Johnny’s house. Music low, junk food everywhere, feet tangled over one another on the living room floor. You were all stuffed into the space—Johnny, Shannon, Feely, Hughie, Claire, Lizzie, Gibsie… and you.

Truth or Dare had taken a weird turn an hour ago, when someone—probably Feely—suggested 7 Minutes in Heaven.

You’d rolled your eyes. “We’re not thirteen.”

“You say that,” Lizzie smirked, already writing names on scraps of paper. “But you’re still holding your breath every time Gibsie walks into a room.”

Your face burned. And that was the last thing you remembered before you pulled a name—his name. Gibsie. And then, before either of you could protest, the others shoved you both into the linen closet with way too much force and shut the door.

You could hear them laughing, scuffling—

And then…

Silence.

You blinked in the dark, back pressed to the far wall, shoulders brushing the coats hanging inside. “Um… guys?”

No response.

You reached for the door handle—locked from the outside.

Gibsie shifted beside you. “Did they just—?”

“Leave?”

You both waited, listening.

Not a footstep. Not a voice. Just the tick of Johnny’s hallway clock and the fact that you were now quite literally locked in a closet with the boy you’d had feelings for since forever.

“Well…” Gibsie let out a short laugh, clearly trying to play it cool. “Could be worse.”

You turned to look at him—though it was so dark you couldn’t even make out his face, just the nearness of him. “You think they actually went home?”

“Johnny’s house,” he said. “And Johnny’s very much the kind of guy who’d ditch his own gaff if it meant getting us in a room together.”

You tried not to laugh, but it bubbled up anyway.

“You’re not freaking out, are ya?” he asked gently, voice quieter now, the humor thinning just a bit.

“No,” you whispered, surprising yourself with how honest you were. “I’m just… hyper-aware.”

“Of what?”

A beat.

“Of you.”

He didn’t say anything at first. You could feel his breathing shift. Slower. Deeper.

You reached out in the dark and your fingers brushed his wrist.

He caught your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’ve liked you for ages, you know.”