Henry Mills/Jared Gilmore Imagines

Seven Minutes in Heaven

~Henry Mills Imagine~

The reader plays seven minutes in heaven.

Warnings: Some language and some sexual content

Rating: 6/10

You didn't want to come.

Or maybe you did, and you were trying to hide the fact that you didn't want to come to yourself. Because now you're surrounded by drunk or half-drunk people's bodies jumping up and down in a rhythmic pattern.

Some were kissing.

Some were missing.

And then there's you: back pressed against the wall, observing the atmosphere.

"Hey Y/N!" somebody yelled. Your head turned sharply in that direction. You rolled your eyes. It was Henry.

Henry was your best friend since kindergarten. But around seventh grade he started dating a girl named Beatrice and lost all contact with you.

Then he started playing football; but at that point you barely even recognized him. And now, you have undying hatred for him. For a simple act committed nearly four years ago.

"What, Henry?" you ask, "If you're looking for another hot girl to kiss, they're available for purchase over by the couch,"

"Ha ha, very funny, Dork-knob," he said. Ah, his favorite nickname. Dork-knob. You got that one by accidentally breaking a doorknob with your bare hands. People thought it was pretty cool until it happened three times; and each of those three times you got sent to detention. It broke your reputation.

"In fact, I was just looking for your ugly face," he says.

"Well, you haven't found it, so keep looking,"

"We're playing truth or dare in the living room and everyone's participating,"

"Why couldn't you just announce that to everyone?" You ask.

"Because then I couldn't do this!"

He whips out a water gun from behind his back and sprays it on you; your purple t-shirt wet, sticking the t-shirt your chest.

Then two other guys with water guns come out, just to get your entire body wet.

"Oh my god, you idiot! What are you? Eight?,"

"No, but my dick is,"

He giggles and runs off, his friends howling.

You go to the bathroom to fix your hair before joining everyone huddled in the living room. You stand in the corner, your back pressed to the wall, the water from your shirt dropping down.

The host, Felicia, says, "Alright, were going to play truth or dare. No limits,"

She smiles, "I'll go first," She eyes everyone in the crowd and for a second, her eyes meet mine. And I panic. But she simply smiles mischievously and instead continues searching for her pick.

Then a name comes out of her mouth.

"Henry,"

I glare at him from across the room.

"Truth or dare,"