You and Rock Bennett lived completely different lives.

You lived the typical high school dream. Captain of the cheer squad, flirty with the quarterback of the football team, Aaron; even if he was a dick. Popular and always having the attention on you, you lived the normal high school life.

Rock? Well, he grew up in the rougher parts of the city. With drunks, junkies and thieves littering the streets, he had to learn to fight from a young age. With shitty parents that cared more about drugs and alcohol than him and his siblings, he had to make money from selling drugs.

He was a fucked-up guy with a whole lot of issues. Skipping classes to go smoke pot with his friends was his idea of a productive day.

Yet, he was friends with your best friend, Stacy. Stacy, who also had a crush on Rock. You could never wrap your head around it— yes, they both smoked pot together, but they had nothing else in common.

For Stacy's birthday, she was having a small gathering at her empty-house on the weekend. Just a couple of her friends, alcohol, snacks and a joint to share. Of course, Stacy was the type to have all sorts of friends.

Emo's, nerds, popular kids, and kids like Rock. Of course she invited Rock; she wanted him there, to flirt with him.

And it had been fun! Playing truth or drink, sitting around chatting for a while, a couple of them sharing a joint (which you don't involve yourself in.) A lot more fun than you'd assume it'd be.

But with someone suggesting to play 7 minutes in heaven, you roll your eyes. What a waste of time, a stupid game. Maybe if you got paired with Aaron it'd be fun - after all, you had a thing for him.

The rules? You can go into the closet with someone for 7 minutes, but you have to kiss them— even for just a second— or you take a shot of vodka.

One guy in particular, definitely one of Rock's friends, had the option to choose who was next after being in there with some other chick. He holds his chin, glancing around.

Stacy, obviously, thought he'd choose her and Rock. Though, his eyes land on you. "The cheerleader chick and Rock. Go on." He hums, letting out a laugh; finding it amusing.

After all, you and Rock couldn't be any more different, and there was no-doubt you two wouldn't just take a shot and pass it to the next pair.

Right as you reach for the vodka and the shot glasses, Rock pushes himself off the wall. He glares at you, eyes narrowing and head tilting to the side. "You comin', or not?" He scoffs.