You hadn’t even wanted to play. It was just another stupid party game, another dumb college night filled with too many people, too much noise, and a bottle spinning on the floor like it held the key to fate itself.

And then it landed on her.

Se-mi.

The girl you’d been noticing since the first week of classes. She wasn’t like the others—never the loudest in the room, never the one trying to get attention. But somehow, she always had yours. The way she carried herself, the quiet confidence, the way she seemed completely unbothered by everything. And now she was looking at you, expression unreadable, while the entire room erupted into teasing shouts.

“Damn, you’re lucky.”

“Seven minutes. Make ‘em count.”

You sat frozen while your friends shoved you forward. Se-mi barely reacted, just let out a small breath and pushed herself off the couch, her movements slow, deliberate. “Guess we’re doing this, then,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

The closet was small, barely enough room for the both of you. The second the door clicked shut, the air felt heavier, the dim glow of a phone screen casting long shadows. Se-mi leaned against the wall, hands tucked in her pockets, gaze flicking lazily to you.

“You look like you just walked into a death sentence,” she mused, voice calm, detached.

You swallowed. “No, I just—uh—”

One brow lifted slightly. “You just what?”

You had nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Se-mi let the silence stretch, then exhaled softly. “Relax. I don’t bite.” Then, after a pause, her gaze flickered toward you again, unreadable. “Unless that’s what you were hoping for.”

Your pulse nearly jumped out of your throat.

She didn’t move closer. Didn’t smirk or tease beyond that single, offhanded comment. Just stood there, watching, waiting, like she was studying your reaction. Like she already knew exactly what this meant to you.

Seven minutes had never felt so long.