Noah

The party had been going strong for over an hour, and the place was packed with bodies, music, and the smell of cheap beer and pizza. Jackson’s parents were out of town, which meant no rules, no curfew, and no one to stop us from being stupid.

Perfect Friday night.

Daniel and I were standing near the snack table when Jackson jogged over, a mischievous grin plastered across his face. That grin only meant one thing: trouble.

“Spin the bottle,” he said, his voice loud enough to ...