Seven Minutes in Hell
Short Summary: "Hey, watch it, asshole!" "What did I do to you?!" "Your hands. They're touching my thighs." "Oh, well, excuse me, if there's barely any space in this damn closet—and I didn't touch you!" "Yes, you did!" "No!" "Yes, you—OW!" "What now?" "Did you just pinch my arm?" "Maybe I did. Now, SHUT UP before I kiss you and make this a REAL Seven Minutes in Heaven."
Author's Crap (mine, not yours): God, I suck at summaries. But anyway, please read on and you might like it. Oh, and let me know what you think about this. Should I go on, if ever you do like it? *Cross fingers*
"Whoever the bottle leads to, you have to go with him in the closet and—"
"And what?" I snapped, narrowing my eyes at my best friend, Vivian "Viv" Lennox. She just raised a gold eyebrow at me, unblinking. She was so used to my expressions. Damn, but I really needed to practice in the mirror when I got home.
"You kiss him for seven minutes. Seven minutes. Got it?"
"Might as well be seven hours if I'll soon be trapped in a stupid closet with some random guy," I grumbled to no one in particular, lightly tapping the green bottle's butt in my hand on the floor.
Viv shrugged. "Anyway," she continued, "it's easy. You just stay in the closet for seven minutes while kissing a guy."
"Oh jeez, Viv, it's not like I don't know Seven Minutes in Heaven before!"
"Then why did you ask?" she demanded, slapping me on the arm.
"I just wanted to make sure. You know that…"
Viv's pretty blue eyes softened. She gave a little smile, giving me a quick hug as she did so. "I know. You've never kissed a guy before."
"I have!" I protested, blushing.
She grinned wolfishly. "To…?"
"Scotty Dressnan," I mumbled, looking away from her. "Fifth grade. Braces. Painful."
Viv laughed so hard, I thought I might've whacked her on the back. Truth be told, that wasn't really a kiss, was it? With Scotty Dressnan, I mean. It was kind of a kiss, yeah. If you consider sloppy saliva (from Scotty, not me) and braces getting stuck together. Hey, Scotty, I heard, was a hottie now. Scotty Hottie, as they said. It was hard to tell since he was a total nerd before. Plus, I'd never seen him again. He moved to Virginia by the time seventh grade came. When we stopped laughing, Viv called out everyone in the room and ordered them to sit down on the floor with us in a circle. This was Vivian's seventeenth birthday party. Let me just say that she had been playing Seven Minutes in Heaven without actually playing the game. Yeah. Also, boys practically fall at her feet. I was always surprised at this because that never happened to me. Not that I was bad-looking or anything. I was just pretty much sarcastic and suspicious. You never knew with guys and the way they think. I had light brown hair and dark green eyes with coronas of russet lashes curling on my eyelids. Also, I had this annoying dot on my chin that I'd never be able to erase in a million years. I was also too tall for my sixteen-year-old age. It was a good thing I wasn't the only one who was tall. So was Viv, who had the same five-foot ten height like me. I should've had a boyfriend by now, I know. But hey, I hadn't found the right person yet.
"All right, fellas," Viv announced, taking the bottle from me, "we are going to play Seven Minutes in Heaven. Any complains?" Everyone started hooting, especially the guys. No one complained, really. They were all excited. I could see girls and guys winking at each other in their places; some actually crossing their fingers as to let the bottle spin to their choices when their time came up. "Is anyone missing?" Everyone's head swiveled back and forth, their bodies slightly twisting to the side, looking for anyone amiss the large bedroom of Vivian's mansion. Viv and I live in San Ricardo, California. A place where the beach was bliss and the air was pure—and people thirsting, crawling on the hot desert sand; birds pooping everywhere.
Okay, so that was technically coming from my imagination, but San Ricardo would have been like my thoughts if the city went careless, you know. I always had lengthy imaginations. Couldn't help it.
"Oh, what's up, Mic?" the guys hollered, grinning widely as they saw the last guest of the party.
"Hi, Michae-e-e-el…," the girls cooed, sitting in more revealing positions, fixing their hair and batting their lashes. They made me sick. Viv saw my disgusted expression, elbowing me.
"He is hot, you know," she whispered, chuckling. "I wouldn't mind having him as my boyfriend."
I really didn't think the last sentence was meant for me to hear, but I really didn't care. Standing in the doorway, looking impeccably bored was Michael Cutting, class heartthrob. He had jet-black hair that was cropped, with the front looking like it was done by the BedHead Tigi company itself that guys tried hard to do with their own hair; it was really the kind of hair that a rogue or playboy could achieve without any effort whatsoever. He had eyes like hot, liquid silver; a long, straight, patrician nose, strong jaw, and nice, kissable lips. You could say he was gorgeous. In fact, every girl called him that secretly behind his back, or, if they were brazen enough, they'd say that right in his handsome face. He was the guy every boy wanted to be; the guy every girl wanted to befriend.
The guy who I thought was a total jerk.
Oh, you might be wondering why I hated him, right? Well, that's easy to tell. Viv and Micahel's best friend, Frederick Kneap, set Michael and I up on a blind date last year. I was all shy and stuff when our traitorous friends left us alone on the pier—a pier!—standing face-to-face, doing nothing. It was kind of nice at first. You know, the wind blowing our hair, our gazes locked and all.
Until I had accidentally sneezed in Michael's face. He had begun telling me his face smells weird and it was wet with snot, and that was where I felt so offended that I had to step on his foot. Hard. He had given a little yelp in agony, making me satisfied with what I did. When I turned on my heel and walked away, he had said, "Oh no, you don't!" then ran towards me with lightning speed, clutching my arm. He had apologized and all, but it was really said through clenched teeth, which wasn't sincere at all. I slapped his chest when he had said I should've said sorry too, but my pride was never going to allow me to do just that.
And that was the most romantic date I'd ever experienced in my entire life.
Considering Michael being my first date, it was the only thing that came to my mind. Man, what happened if I went on a second date with him? I bet it would probably have been as disastrous as the first one. Ten times worse. Never knew dates could be so annoying.
"Have a seat, Michael," Viv said politely, gesturing on the floor like it was meant to be a thrown for a king or something. I groaned.
Michael sat, elbows on knees, nodding to the girls vying for his attention. They started flocking to his side, but Viv boomed, "Hey!" Then she snapped her fingers at them. "Girls, sit. That's right. Stay in your places and don't move." Viv had the power to do that to the girls. They idolized her, you know. She was a total fashionista, especially when it was Mufti Day. It was like she just ordered some dogs to sit. I couldn't help but laugh. This made Michael Cutting stare at me like I was some lunatic. I glared at him; he glared back.
Viv cleared her throat as everyone went silent. "Since I am the birthday girl, I get to choose who goes first—Keller Blakely." She shoved the bottle on my chest, grinning widely. I could see her eyes flicking sideways toward Michael's direction. He didn't see the exchange I had with my best friend, because Frederick was busy pointing a finger at me. I swear, I heard Michael growl like a ferocious panther. I thought I saw Viv nod at Frederick's direction, but I was too busy seething inside whenever I see Michael that I didn't know if she really did nod to Frederick. That was the power of fury Michael Cutting was unleashing inside me.
Viv told me to start, and when I sat up straight and placed the bottle on the wooden floor, I heard some guys telling each other arrogantly that they'd be the one to be with me in the closet. Bunch of crazy people. I stopped touching the bottle, looking at Viv. "What if the bottle points at a girl?" I asked.
She smiled. "All the more fun for the guys, right?" She turned her head toward the boys, hooting and laughing.
She rolled her eyes. "You can spin it again till it points to a guy."
With a deep breath, I touched the bottle and began to spin. It spun and spun and spun until I really got tired of looking at it, actually. Even I saw Michael look away and gaze out the window, yawning. But not the others. They were all crossing their fingers—well, the guys anyway. The girls merely chatted about some show or just gazing longingly at Sir Jerk-A-Lot, yawning again.
"Come on, already!" Frederick and Viv said in unison, making me snap back to attention. The spinning still hadn't ceased to end. I stared at Vivian oddly. She gave a sheepish giggle. "Fun game, huh?"
"Yeah," I said, blinking, "fun."
"YES!" Frederick boomed, clapping and waving his fists in the air like a he won the lottery or something. The other guys rolled their eyes, telling him that he wasn't even the one chosen. "Oh, I knew that. Just…er…happy the bottle stopped?" Somehow, my eyes narrowed dangerously into slits, knifing Frederick with my stare. Even Michael did the same. And somehow, his answer to the boys rather sounded like a question than a statement. This was what Viv and Frederick was meaning to do, wasn't it? They wanted Michael and I to be in the closet and see if there'd be another "spark," if you can call my last date with the jerk "romantic."
I'd kill Viv. I'd come to her bedroom at night and skin her like a fish until she told me that she wanted Michael and I to be together—
Wait. How could I make her tell me the truth if I was skinning her to death?
God. Me and my imagination.
I really hadn't seen where the bottle was pointing at, but I had a good feeling where it ended up. Sure enough, my eyes trailed from the bottle, to the floor, towards Michael. The day couldn't get any better. With a grumble and a few fluent curses, I pulled Viv by the arm, practically yanking her to my side. "I am not going to that closet"—I jabbed a finger towards Viv's large, walk-in closet—"with that asshole!"—I pointed toward Michael. But somehow…he wasn't there anymore.
"Well I really don't want to go inside a damn closet with a nuisance like you, too," Viv and I heard someone said in a low voice in my ear. From far away, it really looked like he was whispering something sweet and endearing to me, but up close, it was totally different. I didn't want to go inside the closet with him! I practically blew my boogers in his face! Which was really embarrassing, actually, but I chose not to think about that at the moment. Or ever. "Now just come with me, stay in the closet for seven horrible minutes, and be done with it."
My eyes rounded. "You actually want to stick your tongue down my throat?" I squeaked.
He rolled his eyes. "As if I'd do that. You might just sneeze in my face again. With extra snot." He mock-shivered, making my jam his Converse shoes with my fist. My hand stung a little, but I continued my unwavering Evil Eye at him. "Enough staring at my glorious presence and come with me."
Did I mention he had such a huge ego, too?
Hmm, I guess not.
I thought he was going to offer his hand for me to grab, but he didn't. Not that I was expecting that, really; but I was planning that if he did, I'd slap his hand away and stand up myself. But he didn't make it difficult for me to get up on my feet myself since he just turned around and went for the closet. I got up and stormed to the same direction.
"Uhhh, guys?" I heard Viv call out to Michael and I.
"What?" we both snapped, looking over our shoulders.
"The closet's this way." She pointed to a white door with a gold knob.
"But that's not your closet!" I protested. "I don't even know what's inside that door."
Viv nodded in understanding, but she was smiling, the traitor. "I know. But my walk-in closet is locked. Off-limits, actually. My collection's too precious to be disrupted by love-filled teenagers making out wildly and passionately. This statement made everyone—except Michael and I—laugh. "So the Seven Minutes in Heaven room is here"—she pointed to the single door in a corner again—"which is a smaller…more crammed…closet."
I was imagining her now. On a tiny boat, holes on the wood, sharks surrounding her all around. She had no lifejacket—just her bikini. Nothing to protect her. Let's pop Frederick in, shall we? Since he was laughing right now in the room with everybody else. Rewrite!
Vivian and Frederick were hugging each other for dear life, shaking in fear as their tiny rubber ducky boat slowly sunk to the ground. Viv's hands were shaking in fright, and when Frederick saw the horror in her blue eyes, he pulled out his chest and took his mighty ping- pong stick out, swatting the hammerheads like flies on a hot summer day. "Take that you filthy slime!" Frederick roared, ping-ponging the shark all the way with his mighty ping-pong stick.
I could totally be a writer. I was so imaginative and creative with the plots and stuff. But too bad Viv and Frederick were still here; not on a rubber ducky boat. Also, Frederick didn't play ping-pong. He couldn't even understand the game at all, much less play it. He could play ping-pong, if you consider Frederick bouncing the white tiny ball up and down over and over. I plodded my feet on the wooden floor with heavy footsteps, shooting daggers in Viv and Frederick's direction. Frederick shrugged; Vivian pursed her lips, containing her laughter. "I'll kill you for this!" I hissed. She merely smiled. I pulled the door to the small closet open with a bang, then got inside. Holy crap, the closet was smaller than I thought! It was about three feet in width, and six-something feet in height. I swear, I'd seriously take Frederick and Viv to a lost island and curse the day they were born. Even I saw Michael's eyes bulge out from its sockets, as it grew larger and larger in shock. And horror. There was nothing inside, just us that would contain the closet.
"I think I'd get suffocated there just by getting locked up with Snotty Girl here," Michael said irritably.
"I'd get suffocated in your presence!" I shot back.
"Ah, love," Frederick chirped, pushing our backs into the closet. The door was shut in front of our angry faces, the lock twisting and clicking from outside the dark place.
The fiend, we were locked in!
"And remember, no escaping until seven minutes of your time is up!" Viv said eerily outside the closet. I could hardly hear a thing! All the people's voices outside the closet sounded like thick buzzes. I squeezed in, Michael's shoulder brushing against mine hard. There really wasn't enough space here. Michael was tall and so was I. Unsatisfied with my position, I turned to face the other side of the closet's wall. I couldn't see anything. All I saw were purple, flying stars from the darkness. I moved again, not knowing how to feel comfortable with a dominating presence beside me, and a tiny room I was in.
"Will you stop doing that?" Michael demanded, moving so that I could have more space. I could tell that he was leaning on the other side of the wall just to give me space and to get away from me.
"I'm sorry!" I bit off. "It's so small in here."
And I could still feel him too. He wasn't too far. He was like an inch away from me. This was torture!
When I finally got my comfy spot, I couldn't move my arms. It was too tight in here. I felt something. Hands. "Hey, watch it, asshole!" I hissed menacingly. I couldn't see Michael's face, but I knew he was glaring at me.
"What did I do to you?!" he demanded.
"Your hands," I said pertly, wiggling my body a bit, "they're touching my thighs. Get them away from me."
He sighed in annoyance. "Oh, well, excuse me, if there's barely enough space in this damn closet—and it wasn't my intention to touch you! As you can tell that we're squeezed in here like tunas in a effing can."
"Yes, you did!"
"I did what?" I believe he scowled.
"No, I didn't," he said through gritted teeth.
"Yes, you—OW!" I said, yelping from the pain I felt in my arm, gritting my teeth together,
"What now?" I heard him snap.
"Did you just pinch my arm in a very harassing way?"
"Maybe I did. Now," he ground out, "SHUT UP before I kiss you and make this a real Seven Minutes in Heaven for you."
"You wouldn't," I hissed dangerously, backing away, but failed since I was leaning on the wall already.
"I would, if you talk again."
I gasped. "I—"
But I couldn't finish what I was saying. He was already too busy yanking me in his arms and kissing me just to shut me up.
This wasn't Seven Minutes in freaking Heaven.
This was Seven Minutes in Hell!
I don't know, but for some reason, the song playing in my head when they kissed was Yoo Hoo By Imperial Teen. XD