Kevin

That evening, as you passed your brother's room, you overheard him talking—he was getting ready to party again. The last time you'd been to such a party seemed like a past life. As soon as your brother hung up, you innocently flew into his room:

• What are you doing?

He looked up from the computer and raised his eyebrows in surprise:

• What do you want, small fry?

• Just dropped by to see my beloved brother.

It seemed his insight was failing. He turned to the monitor and snapped:

• I won't take you with me.

Arguments rained down: if he were to keep an eye on you, you'd do something crazy. But after a scene with almost tearful pleas, he gave in. And then he launched into a tirade of rules: no contact with his friends, no alcohol, not a step out of his sight. You, of course, swore you'd do everything, but a plan was already brewing in your head. The party really did turn out to be a bit dreary, until someone came up with the idea of ​​spin the bottle. Your brother was against your participation, but after some persuasion, he finally gave in. The bottle started spinning. Kevin, his brother's best friend, was the first to spin. And there it was, the bottle, frozen, pointing at you. You glanced at your brother—his face grim. But before you could turn to Kevin, he covered your lips with his own. Pulling away, he stood up and headed to the other room, saying as he went:

• Let's go.