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Ash raised an eyebrow. “Is that all you’ve got?”
I shrugged. “I’m turning over a new leaf. It’s my New Year’s resolution to be nice to the insane and troubled. Get better soon, okay?” I patted his arm. Damn. That wasn’t really playing nice, but he just brought it out in me.
He chuckled. “There’s the little brat I know and loathe. Had your New Year’s kiss?”
I tossed my hair and rolled my eyes. Maximum brat setting. “Grow up, Martino.”
His eyes darkened and a familiar wicked tilt hit his lips. He was going to kiss me. He wasn’t stopping at last night’s punishment. I couldn’t have said if I was excited or scared at the thought, even if someone had held a gun to my head. I just didn’t know.
“Who’s got to grow up?” A loud voice demanded, breaking the spell.
An arm hooked around my neck and Asher’s and pushed our heads closer. My cheek glanced off his mouth as we were smashed together. I pushed against his chest, struggling to break free until the pressure was suddenly gone.
“What the fuck, Bailey? You want to give us both concussions to start the year?” Asher demanded from his friend.
Marcus was the joker of the Ice Gods, though I often wondered what dark secrets hid under his jovial exterior. It was a well-known fact that his brother was in a motorcycle club and his dad was in jail.
“Just trying to help you guys get ready for your turn. We’re playing Seven Minutes in Heaven in the other room.” He held up two slips of paper, each one with our scribbled names on it. “Winter got pulled right before midnight, so you’d better come along with me. Your mystery kissing partner is already waiting for you.”
“Are you serious?” I complained.
“You agreed, don’t forget,” Marcus reminded me.
“Fine, whatever,” I huffed, avoiding Asher’s eyes. It wasn’t like I wanted to stand there and argue with him, anyway. I might as well use the excuse to escape, and then I could tell whoever thought I was going to kiss them for seven minutes to keep their lips to themselves.
“This way, gorgeous.” Marcus grinned and tugged me toward the hallway.
I followed him, my hand tucked in his. Asher’s eyes stared a hole into the side of my face as I left.
He led me upstairs. “The best dark tight space is the walk-in closet,” he said over his shoulder. “Many a couple has been made in here tonight,” he continued.
I followed, pulling a face at the imagery. The walk-in closet? I didn’t like small spaces, not one bit. Thanks to Tilda and that day in the pantry, I hated small, enclosed rooms. My breath grew faint at the thought.
We got to the bedroom, the yawning black hole of a walk-in closet beckoning. Who the hell did Marcus have in there?
“Wait—,” I started, backpedaling.
“Come on, Winter, don’t be shy,” Marcus said, clearly guessing I was having second thoughts. He pushed me toward the closet and shoved me inside.
“Marcus!” My cry fell on deaf ears. Marcus had wrenched the sliding door shut and jammed it closed.
“Are you okay?” a voice asked.
I maneuvered around to see a random guy I barely knew standing inside. He was on the hockey team, though, I knew that. There was enough light falling through the slats in the doors to see him.
“Fine. Chase, is it?”
He clapped a hand to his chest. “You wound me. I’m president of your fan club, and you’re not even sure of my name.”
“We don’t have to play this stupid game,” I pointed out.
He laughed. “I’m only playing it because Marcus promised me you.”
“Well, that’s weird and creepy.”
“Really? Shit, I was going for suave,” Chase said.
He was handsome, I could admit it, and it was obvious that he usually got a very different reception from girls. Despite that, he did nothing for me. Apparently, I only got hot and bothered by the criminally insane. Suddenly the thought of standing in the semidarkness for seven whole minutes with this stranger was excruciating. My breath was growing faster, and the air felt thin. Panic was pushing in.
