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"Would you fucking relax," came the scornful voice from somewhere in the dark. "It's not arranged marriage, Nonagesimus, it's just a game."
Right. Just some profound humiliation. Not a problem.
But of course, nothing scandalizing ever seemed to faze Gideon Nav. That shit-eating grin rarely left that dumb face. She was annoyingly charismatic in that deplorable way where every single moronic thing she did was effortlessly magnetic. Worse yet, when Nav tried to be cool, it worked. Harrow was above all this, determinedly immune. Yet somehow, here they were, locked in a goddamn closet together.
Harrow had blinked stupidly when the bottle pointed at her a few minutes ago. The small circle of campers had burst into screeches and laughter.
"Don't try to skip, Harry," purred Ianthe, leering like the cat that got the canary.
Harrow grimaced, her cheeks burning with indignation. Dulcinea was smiling serenely as if nothing was amiss, but she discreetly winked at Harrow, that devious bitch. Camilla was preoccupied with examining her fingernails, clearly waiting for something much more interesting to happen in her life.
"Woah, woah now. That's allowed? I'm not kissing any dudes," Naberius protested, hands held up as if to unsuccessfully ward off his own idiocy. "I mean, we can keep the Girls Gone Wild action..."
"You're such a pig, Babs," Ianthe drawled. "Please do shut up."
"You shut up, Ianthe."
Corona smacked him hard with the pillow that'd been in her lap. He rubbed his arm and shot a look of wounded betrayal at Corona even though it couldn't have hurt much.
"I'd be gentle with you," Protesilaus unexpectedly reassured Naberius, rousing another round of hooting and cackling while Babs glowered.
"The rules of Seven Minutes In Heaven weren't discussed beforehand," Palamedes calmly noted. "We wouldn't have forced Jeannemary and Isaac to be paired." Camilla nodded absently, exposing that she was still paying attention past her boredom.
Isaac immediately leaned back from the bottle on the floor as if it'd become venomous, and Jeannemary wailed with her face in her hands, "Nooo, don't mention us!"
The golden eyes across from Harrow didn't give away anything. Gideon stood up from the circle nonchalantly, impervious to the ruckus around her.
A chant rose up from Ianthe, silencing the rest of the comments and arguments as Corona and Dulcinea gleefully joined in: "Do it, do it!"'
Protesilaus unceremoniously lifted Harrow up from the floor by her armpits and forced her toward the closet door where Gideon stood waiting uncharacteristically blank-faced. Gideon shook aside the long red bangs of her pixie haircut, and her eyes briefly flicked over Harrow, sizing her up.
"Do it, do it!"
Just before they stepped into the cabin's storage closet, Harrow chanced a hasty sideways glance at Gideon. That disinterested gaze met hers impenetrably, and then amusement flickered into Gideon's face and her mouth quirked upward, which was much more dangerous than being uninvested.
"Wow, cold cadaver queen, I said relax," came that voice again from the black void. "I can practically hear you scheming a way out through the ceiling."
Harrow tensed at the voice. "I'm not scared," she hissed, instantly doubly irritated by her self-implication.
"Oh?" Gideon threw out, amplifying insecurity along with awareness of the continued chorus of "Do it!" on the other side of the door.
"Don't worry about me, Griddle," Harrow snarled.
A humorless chuckle came from somewhere closer now. "Me worried about you?"
Harrow put her fist to the bridge of her nose. Shit. Harrow wished she could somehow skip the next seven minutes of her life. Maybe she could lobotomize herself later.
Gideon's eyes glinted as she stepped into a slice of dim light from the doorframe, looking down menacingly at Harrow. "Ready?" she tossed out lightly.
Harrow steeled herself to not show any more vulnerability in front of Nav. She nodded firmly, tossing out "sure" in what she prayed was a casual enough tone.
Without warning, Gideon pulled the smaller girl to her roughly by the collar, getting a sharp startled inhale from Harrow. "Good. I'm not having them invent some cheater's penalty for this half-baked game, so don't be a priss, my popsicle princess."
Harrow glared up defiantly. "Fine. But this is the absolute fucking worst," Harrow snapped.
Gideon let go of Harrow's black button-up shirt and Harrow nervously smoothed it down, looking away at nothing. Gideon didn't move or say anything, making the supply closet feel tiny and constricting. Unmeasured time was quickly ticking past. There was muffled chattering and giggling from outside. Harrow scowled, not about to be intimidated. Harrow darted forward, cinching her eyes closed tightly and tipping her head up to touch her lips chastely against Gideon's.
A few pounding heartbeats went by without Gideon responding, which made Harrow indignantly grab fistfuls of Gideon's tacky band t-shirt, angrily wishing this was someone else. Still, all Harrow could taste and feel was Gideon Nav. The soft chest now pressing forward against her hands was distracting, and the hair brushing across her forehead smelled like apple-scented shampoo and fresh-cut grass and something femininely musky.
Gideon lightly slid her tongue along Harrow's lower lip in a bold challenge, and not to be outdone, Harrow deepened the kiss, regretting that this fight for dominance was with someone who'd constantly practiced sparring with her. The other campers were forgotten, replaced by the freight train roaring through her ears.
Gideon pulled back, breathing heavily before she sharply bit Harrow's neck, following up the unexpected pain with rough tingling kisses. Gideon alarmingly slipped both hands up the back of Harrow's shirt to drag down nails lightly across electrified bare skin until holding Harrow’s waist, still kissing up her neck toward her ear. Harrow dismissed a shiver as being ticklishly hyper-aware, mortified but refusing to react. She wouldn't give Griddle the satisfaction.
Harrow let go of shirt fistfuls to grab Gideon's hips and impulsively hook a finger tauntingly down underneath the edge of Gideon's jeans, gliding along slowly toward her navel, causing Gideon to freeze stiffly with hands tightening on Harrow's waist. Harrow pushed Gideon back from her sensitive neck, quickly searching those heated amber eyes before darting forward to capture her lips again, satisfied she'd gotten the upper hand. Gideon hungrily kissed her back, both their breathing ending abruptly.
Gideon shoved them back against the wall of the closet. Harrow gasped against the other girl's mouth as Gideon's hands slid smoothly up her sides, thumbs teasingly brushing just underneath her bra. Gideon pushed herself between Harrow's legs, rolling her hips to rub slowly. Harrow broke off their kiss and growled at this new kind of friction. She tangled her fingers into Gideon's hair, forgetting herself, arching her back against the wall to grind harder.
Gideon suddenly jerked away, pulling back to stare down at Harrow. Harrow opened her eyes to see why Gideon had stopped.
"This isn't... I really hate you," Gideon burst out, hair disheveled, breathing heavily, eyes wide, and hands tightened threateningly on Harrow's ribs.
"I know," Harrow murmured, still dazed. She licked her lips, blinking rapidly, tasting Gideon's lip balm, and Gideon looked down intently at her mouth.
Gideon's eyebrows pulled down in fury, and she savagely lunged forward for another desperate kiss. They fell back against the wall, frantically moving against each other, lost in the scuffling sounds of ruffled clothing and panting, completely oblivious to the heavy silence from the other side of the closet door. Seven minutes were long over.