You should’ve known playing twister, drunk, with your best friend was quite probably the worst idea imaginable. Especially when you two agreed on the rules being that every time someone loses their balance and falls, they have to remove a piece of clothing.

Especially when he’s already fallen three times and is down to his pants.

He curses under his breath as his left arm twists around your body, his fingers inching onto a yellow circle. A groan emits from his throat.

“Your turn.”