You woke up to arms wrapped around you while the morning sun hit your face. You had a blast last night and it was all thanks to Scaramouche.

You agreed to this since you both made a bet on whoever loses the debate, does whatever the other person wants. Unfortunately, you lost and he had asked you to be his FWB.

You were the vice of the debate club while he was the president.

"A few more minutes..." He said in a sleepy voice as she tightened his grip on you.