Seven minutes went by surprisingly quickly, probably due to the fact that I was still dancing somewhere near the edge of sleep. Soon Amelia strode up to the closet and gave a demanding knock. Chelsea and Samar emerged under the mocking clapping of the others; they looked the same as they had when they had gone in, save for a faint blush on Chelsea’s face and the not quite as perfectly styled state of Samar’s hair.

“Seems like the seven minutes were well spent,” Amelia commented, prompting another round of laughter. “Moving on . . .”

The next three pairs were all people I barely knew, making it easy for me to shut my eyes and open them only when Amelia called out the next name. Seth poked me in the ribs a few times to stop me from falling asleep, but that wasn’t the thing that ultimately made me wide awake.

It was Amelia’s voice as she announced, “Next pair. Here we have . . . oh. Evelyn Greene.”

I sat up so abruptly I almost spilled my drink all over the couch. Amelia sent me a look that seemed to tell me to stay seated and refuse to play. But no one before me had opted out and with the alcohol in my blood, the idea of making out with a stranger suddenly didn’t seem all that terrible. So I passed my cup to Seth, ignoring his hand on my sleeve trying to hold me back, and got up.

Cheers followed me as I crossed the room, hopefully not looking as unsteady on my feet as I felt, and clambered into the closet. The irony of it wasn’t lost on me, and I released a soft giggle into the dark that engulfed me.

“And the second person is . . .” Amelia continued outside.

“James Carter.”

The mistake I had made when I’d gotten up believing I wouldn’t mind kissing a random person dawned on me: I had forgotten that boys still existed. I didn’t like kissing boys. But I couldn’t say that now, could I?

“James? Is James here?” Amelia asked over the murmuring outside.

She waited a few seconds for an answer. Finally, she released a heavy sigh. “Fine, we will have to draw another then. Who do we have here . . .”

Silence.

Then, “It’s Noelle.”

My breath caught in my throat. The ground became even more unsteady to the point where I had to lean back against the wood behind me to stop my legs from giving out as I waited, not sure whether to be relieved or utterly terrified.

Heralded by loud cheers and wolf whistling, the door finally opened and a silhouette entered, making the closet feel a hundred times smaller, completely dark save for the little sliver of light that peeked in from beneath the door.

“Noelle?” I whispered. “Is that you?”

“Yeah. Give me a second,” Noelle muttered. A moment later, I was blinded by her phone’s flashlight.

When I opened my eyes again, Noelle had her fingers over the light so that only a faint, orange glow lit up the closet. It was only then I realized how close we were actually standing: I was pressed against the back of the closet and she was standing by the door, yet we were almost touching.