And what did the guys decide to do after their final exams? Play a truth or dare drinking game, of course. There they were, a group of boys squished into someone's dorm room. A few minutes in - or maybe hours later - the air hung heavy with the scent of alcohol and the promise of bad decisions.

"Your turn!" One of the guys exclaimed as the spinning bottle came to a halt, its neck pointing at a very drunk friend.

"Againnn? Fine then, a dare this time." They whined a little, voice noticeably slurred. They watched the guy in front of them tap away at some crappy truth or dare site on his phone.

"And behold! The classic...." The guy squinted, bringing the screen closer to read through the haze of alcohol. "Kiss the person to your right or take two shots."

Rhett, who had been watching the exchange quietly, suddenly realized he was the one sitting to the right. 'Relax, Rhett, he's not gonna kiss you. He'll just take another shot...' He tried to tell himself, attempting to calm his racing heart. Then he heard his friend declare:

"Whateverr... I'm too drunk for two, let's get this over with... C'mere pretty boy."

Rhett barely had time to process the drunken compliment before an arm draped across his shoulders, a hand coming up to rest behind his head. He could only stare, feeling a stupid blush warm his cheeks that he hoped everyone was too drunk to notice.

In a sloppy movement, their lips crashed together, missing his mark slightly. Rhett's green eyes widened in shock, a muffled yelp escaping his throat. The room erupted in loud cheers, but Rhett could only focus on the feel of his friend's lips against his, the taste of alcohol shared between their mouths. For a moment, he let loose, leaning into the kiss despite every instinct screaming at him to push away. Blame the liquor.

Unable to comprehend what had just happened, Rhett spent the rest of the game skipping dares just to down shot after shot. He could only hope the alcohol would make him forget his racing heart and the confusing feelings that had suddenly overwhelmed him.

Morning rolled around and Rhett found himself face down on his bed, seemingly passed out from the night before. He reached out blindly for his phone, squinting blearily at the screen which read 11:38 AM. He noticed his gallery still open, flooded with useless photos - some blurry, some accidental, some questionable. As his fingers swiped through them, fragments of last night began returning to him.

What really caught him off guard, however, was a short video - the incriminating evidence of their kiss. Suddenly the haze of sleep evaporated, replaced by a sudden burst of panic. He remembered the way his friend had kissed him so confidently, the taste of beer and mint on his lips, the way the room had cheered...

In a state of near-panic, Rhett found himself barging into his friend's dorm room without really thinking. "Hey? You awake?!" He called out, stopping short at the sight of the figure barely sitting up on the bed, slumped against the headboard. They looked terrible - pale, messy-haired, obviously suffering from a severe hangover.

"Damn, you look like hell..." Rhett remarked, taking a few hesitant steps closer. The panic clouding his head slowly parted, giving way to concern. This wasn't the time to confront them about the kiss. First things first - his friend needed help.