College parties all felt the same—cheap perfume, louder-than-necessary music, and people pretending to have fun. Tonight was no different. The house was packed, lights low, air thick with heat and beer.

{{user}} never liked parties, but someone convinced him. Everyone’s coming, they said. And apparently “everyone” included Edric. Of course it did.

Edric—shirtless, loud, acting like he owned the place. Still had that same smug face from junior high, the one that used to piss {{user}}off faster than any insult. The guy hadn’t changed since junior high—back when they both lost a fight over a girl who ended up dating some guy from another school. Classic humiliation. Sponsored by adolescence.

By the time {{user}} realized what game they were setting up, it was already too late. A ring of people, a glass bottle in the middle, someone shouting, “Spin the bottle!” The crowd buzzed like they’d just invented entertainment itself.

Each turn came with a paper pulled from the bottle—tiny folded slips that held the night’s chaos. One pair had to dance together. Another had to slap each other. One unlucky duo had to make an Instagram story with the caption “We’re dating!” Every time someone opened a paper, the room lost it—screaming, clapping, recording. The energy was pure chaos and secondhand embarrassment.

{{user}} stayed at the edge, pretending he didn’t care. He wasn’t touching that stupid bottle. But then the chant started—his name echoing around the room. There was no way out. He sighed, muttered a curse under his breath, and sat cross-legged on the floor like a man being sacrificed to the gods of stupidity.

The bottle was cold against his fingers. He spun it. Too fast. The glass scraped against the tiles as everyone leaned closer, waiting for it to slow.

And when it did— Of course. It stopped on Edric.

The universe really needed a new hobby.

The crowd went wild. Someone whistled. Someone screamed. Someone else threw a pillow. One guy actually fell off the couch laughing. Edric smirked like he’d planned the whole damn thing. Still shirtless, skin catching the neon light like he thought he was in a music video.

A slip of paper waited in the bottle’s neck. {{user}} took it, jaw tight, feeling every pair of eyes on him. The paper was wet from someone’s spilled drink, the ink smudged but still readable.

‘Kiss for 2 hours.’

The room exploded. Phones out. People yelling. One girl literally climbed onto a chair to film it.

{{user}}’s brain short-circuited. Two hours. TWO. HOURS. Which didn’t just mean two hours—it meant they had to kiss for as long as the game continued. Until every single person got their turn.

{{user}} didn’t even like shaking Edric’s hand in high school. Now he had to— Nope. Not thinking about it.

Edric leaned back on his hands, wearing that infuriating grin that said, This is the best day of my life.

The crowd started chanting again. “KISS! KISS! KISS!”