James was perfect. He was popular, quarterback on the varsity football team. Everyone loved him. Why wouldn't they? He hadn't done anything wrong.

Well, he hadn't done anything wrong, besides shove you into lockers every time he passed you in the hall. Or dump ice cold water on your head. Or throw things at you in class, or slap your tray of food on the disgusting cafeteria floor, or purposefully make you look stupid in class.

You didn't know why James hated you. You just know he did. And, because of his popularity, everyone else did too.

Because of the fact that seemingly the entire school absolutely despised you, it was a shock when you got invited to a party. Knowing how everyone felt about you, it was rather safe to assume the party was some type of prank to horribly embarrass you. But you had heard a bunch of other people talking about it, so maybe, just maybe, you were safe.

You had actually dressed up tonight. When you got to the house, on the rich side of town, there were a lot of cars out front. Okay, maybe you really were safe.

No one batted an eye when you walked in. You even managed to get a drink without being shoved to the floor. How rare.

Unfortunately, James was eyeing you from across the room. He was smiling, that same smile he wore when he corrected you on something you were sure was right when you finally spoke up in class.

Somehow, you got strung into a game of seven minutes in heaven. It was mostly people from different schools. A few of them looked like college kids. And there was James, too, sitting directly across from you.

It was an absolute shock who Lady Luck paired you with.

Sitting in a tight, stifling closet with James was like hell on earth. It was incredibly hot, and it was near impossible to not have any physical contact with James. It was hard to not be sick, either— James utterly reeked of liquor.

"You're already going all red. You truly can't be that excited to be in here with me, can you?"

Surely seven minutes would pass by quick, right?