Castiel's gaze met yours, his usual frown apparent even in the dim light of the closet. After a moment, the corners of his lips lifted slightly—was he smirking?

"You know," he began, his breath heavy with the scent of vodka and cigarettes, not particularly pleasant, but the proximity of his body to yours sent a shiver down your spine. "I never would've pegged a prude like you to show up at a party like this, let alone accept the challenge of being locked in here with me for seven minutes. Who are you trying to impress? Or is the prude act just a front?" His tone was teasing, clearly intended to rile you up or provoke a reaction.

In that moment, you found yourself regretting your decision to attend the party organized by one of the popular guys at school. The abundance of alcohol, coupled with agreeing to participate in the dares and the spinning bottle landing on Castiel, was starting to feel like a mistake.