Collection of Timmy Rasmussen One Shots

7 Minutes in Heaven

"Why did I ever think this was a good idea?" you think to yourself as you wander throughout the overflowing rooms of the house. It is too loud, too hot, and there are too many people here you would very much like to avoid. Your "school chums" have a tendency to be rather cruel. Teasing, shunning, you name it; it's been done. Maybe not all to you personally, but you've seen enough in your time to make you sick. Most, if not all, the people here disgust you.

After what feels like an eternity, you happen upon a relatively empty room. Making your way over to the far, vacant corner, salvation- in site, a figure behind you wraps their fingers around your wrist. You spin around to see that it is your friend. The one that had convinced you to make an appearance here. "Come on! It's the last party before we all go home for the summer. You have to at least try going to one party in your college career. I promise you'll have fun." She had said. You accepted her invitation merely to get her to quit harassing you about the subject. So far her promise of "fun" has been a completely fruitless.

"We have to go upstairs!" She shouts in spite of the fact that the music is fairly quiet in this area. "I got us in game of 7 minutes in heaven. Need to go!" She slurs out, the potent smell of alcohol floating into your nose. Great, she's wasted. You decide to go with her, fearing what might happen if you let her try and conquer the stairs on her own. She stumbles up the stairs and down a short hallway, leading you into what must be the master bedroom.

As you both walk in, a guy you recognize from your Government class instructs you to sit in a circle with the other girls. You escort your inebriated friend to the small ring of girls sitting on the floor, a bottle resting on its side laying in the center. After she is situatated, you step backwards, deciding to watch from the other side of the room. You want to keep an eye on your friend, but you have no desire to join in the game. "All girls in the circle!" The same guy from before shouts in your direction. You jump a bit, startled. "Oh, I'm not playing I..." He interrupts you before you can explain. "Either you play or you have to leave the room. What happens in here stays in here. Only other players can witness." You roll your eyes and sit down amongst the other girls. You wonder if government guy has any idea how douchey he sounds.

A couple more guys flood in, and they are all told to line up by the wall. You skim over they're faces. Most of them from the swim team (your school's equivalent to the high-and-mighty football team). About to look away, your eyes catch his. Standing near the middle of the line was the last person you wished to see; Timmy Rasmussen. Once upon a time, you had a crush on the boy. You'd do so many silly, childish things in a futile attempt to get his attention. These things payed off because he started waving to you in the hall and hanging out with you after school a couple times. That was middle school. When you moved up to the infamous high school, everything turned upside down. Long story short, his buddies discovered your crush on their teammate. Deeming you as an unsatisfactory mate for a boy at the top of the social hierarchy, they took it upon themselves to get rid of you. Teasing you behind his back, sabotaging you when you were with him, basically turning you into a freak in his eyes until he finally agreed that you were just that, a freak. He hasn't spoken to you since that day freshman year. You're now ending your freshman year of college. If you're being honest with yourself, it still hurts you to think about him. If you're being completely honest, you still, after all this time, care for him.

The game commences. The next guy in line spins the bottle at the center of ladies. Whoever it lands on must go into what looked like a bathroom adjoined to a closest with the spinner for 7 minutes. There, they can do whatever they want. Talk, make out, do nothing, whatever floats their boat. When their time is up and they come out, it's their choice to tell what they did or not. Most of the pairings up until this point have not told anybody what happened. Though, it's pretty obvious by their flushed cheeks, heaving chests, and half falling off garments what went on behind closed doors. Luckily, the bottle hasn't targeted you yet. Unluckily, Timmy hasn't had a turn yet either.