"Alright, we're playing Truth or Dare," Anabel declared, her lips curling into a wicked grin. "But there's one rule-if you chicken out, you down two glasses of whiskey. No whining, no excuses."
A collective murmur of excitement rippled through the room. Students quickly formed a messy circle on the floor, the dim lighting casting chaotic shadows over eager, flushed faces. The air was thick with tension, curiosity, and the lingering scent of spiked soda and bad decisions.
Anabel spun the bottle. It screeched slightly as it whirled-and landed on Rowan.
"Truth or dare?" she purred.
Rowan, perched coolly with one ankle crossed over his knee, smirked. "Truth."
"Who's your crush here at the college?" Anabel asked, voice sugary sweet with malicious intent.
The smug smirk faltered. Rowan's eyes flicked-just briefly-to Senorita, who stared into her drink like it held the secrets of the universe. The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees.
"I'd rather drink," he said, jaw tight.
Malaya immediately poured two shots. Rowan downed them like water, the burn not nearly enough to erase the look on his face.
He spun the bottle. It landed on Loord, who cracked his knuckles dramatically.
"Dare," he said, eyes glittering with anticipation.
Rowan leaned forward. "Kiss any girl here. Anywhere."
Gasps. Giggling. Whispers.
Loord's eyes swept the circle like a lion choosing prey. Then they landed on Swan.
He stood. Walked toward her. Swan's eyes narrowed like she was watching a wild animal approach.
"Don't try anything stupid," she hissed.
Loord smirked and leaned down, placing a feather-light kiss on her cheek.
"Chill. I kissed her. Dare completed."
"Boooo!" someone shouted.
"Coward!"
Loord just shrugged, strutting back to his spot like a smug idiot.
Next spin-Preya.
"Dare," she said instantly, confidence in her posture.
Loord grinned devilishly. "Slap one of your friends. Or I'll slap you instead."
People gasped and laughed. Drama alert.
Preya didn't flinch. She turned and cracked her palm against Malaya's cheek. The room went silent for a beat.
Malaya blinked, stunned. "Damn," someone whispered.
"Sorry," Preya said flatly, though the corner of her mouth twitched with amusement.
The game continued.
Preya spun. It landed on Jett, the ever-smiling flirt with a bottle of arrogance in his hand.
"Dare."
"Have you ever fallen in love?" Preya asked, voice silky.
Jett laughed so hard he nearly choked. "That's a funny question."
"Why?"
He winked. "Playboys don't fall in love. We make love... to chaos."
Groans. Eye rolls. A few laughs. He spun the bottle. It pointed to Senorita.
She raised her chin. "Dare."
Jett smirked. "Have lunch with Rowan tomorrow."
The whole circle leaned in like it was a courtroom drama.
Senorita's expression turned to stone. "I'd rather die."
Without hesitation, she grabbed the glass and downed it. The whiskey scorched her throat, but not nearly as much as Jett's smug little look.
She spun the bottle. Liliana.
"Truth or dare?" she asked, her voice deceptively sweet.
"Truth," Liliana replied, jaw clenched.
Senorita's eyes gleamed with challenge. "Tell everyone why you were crying in the garden earlier."
Liliana blinked, caught. "I wasn't crying," she snapped. "Something got in my eye."
Uh-huh.
She spun the bottle fast-almost violently-and it landed on Sugar.
"Dare," he said smoothly, lips curved in a devilish smile.
"I dare you to slap Senorita," Liliana said, her tone venomous.
Gasps echoed around the room. All eyes snapped to Sugar.
He looked at Senorita. She raised a brow, daring him.
Sugar chuckled. "As much as I'd love to slap her, I'm not about to ruin her perfect face. Who knows-she might be my future wife."
The room erupted. Laughter, whoops, gasps.
Senorita rolled her eyes. "Future wife my foot," she muttered.
---
The Game Ends, the Real Drama Begins
The game faded. The bottle stopped spinning. But the tension? Still very much alive.
The dance floor called. Music blared, hips swayed, and alcohol fueled reckless abandon.
Senorita didn't join them. Her head buzzed, her skin felt too hot, and her thoughts tangled.
"I'll catch up," she told Lake, already inching toward the hallway. "I just need a minute."
She stumbled into the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face-but the heat didn't fade. It grew.
She gripped the sink, trying to steady herself. Her heart thundered. Her body... didn't feel like her own.
And then the door creaked open.
Sugar.
"Rita?" he asked, voice cautious. "You alright?"
Her eyes locked onto him. The panic melted into something darker. Need. Desperation.
Before he could blink, she grabbed his shirt and kissed him-hard, wild, reckless.
Sugar froze. Then gently peeled her off, holding her shoulders.
"Whoa, hey. You're not yourself right now."
"I need you," she whispered. "Please, Sugar..."
"Rita." His voice was calm but firm. "You're drunk, and something's not right. This isn't you."
She swayed. He caught her.
Then he scooped her up like a damsel in distress and walked out, ignoring the curious eyes and whispers that followed.
---
The Snake Pit
Outside the circle, a trio of schemers watched with smirks.
"Operation Breakdown is officially complete," Preya whispered.
Liliana giggled. "Wait till she sees the school blog tomorrow."
Malaya clinked glasses with them. "The College Queen dethroned in one night."
"Poetic justice," Liliana said.
They toasted.
Oh, but karma's got receipts, girls.
---
The Morning After
Sunlight stabbed through the curtains like guilt with a spotlight.
Senorita bolted upright. Strange room. Sheets she didn't recognize. But the bloodstain?
"What the hell?" she gasped.
Sugar walked in with a bottle of water. "You're awake."
Her eyes narrowed. "Did you... did we...?"
He blinked. "Wait-you think I slept with you?"
"You didn't?"
"Rita, you kissed me. I stopped you. You were out of it. I took you to the clinic, the doc gave you a sedative, and I brought you here."
She glanced at the sheets. "Then the blood-?"
He followed her gaze.
"Oh." He looked sheepish. "Pretty sure that's your period."
Her face turned crimson. "Oh my God."
Sugar chuckled softly. "Crisis averted."
She stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door.
---
The Aftermath
Thirty minutes later, she emerged-cleaned up, hair tied, dignity somewhat patched together.
Loord and Jett were on the couch.
"Good morning, College Queen," Loord smirked.
"Morning, tigeress," Jett added, clearly having the time of his life.
She gave them a weak glare. "Don't push me."
Sugar had ordered her sanitary pads and fresh clothes. The bed was stripped. The air smelled like lavender and denial.
He stood at the door. "I'll give you space. You good?"
She hesitated. "I don't know."
"Take your time. But know this-what happened last night? Wasn't on you."
He left.
"I'll be going now," Senorita said quietly, heading for the door.
"I'll drop you off," Sugar offered, his voice steady and low.
"No, it's fine. I can manage," she replied without turning around.
But Sugar wasn't about to take no for an answer.
Outside, his motorcycle waited-sleek, black, and rumbling with restrained power. He held out a helmet to her.
She hesitated for a second. Then, with a sigh of resignation, she took it and climbed on behind him, her hands wrapping around his waist almost involuntarily. The engine roared to life beneath them, and as they sped into the night, the wind tore through her hair, but the silence between them was louder.
She held him tighter.
"Gotcha," he said over his shoulder, a smirk playing on his lips, like he knew exactly what he was doing.
And he did.