Test Drive Meme #2

[proximods]

You wake up in a closet. It's a nice enough one, clearly owned by someone with a large bedroom and too many clothes. There's a dim light on but no switch to make it brighter. As your eyes adjust and you come to the realization that this is probably not a dream, you notice you aren't alone. Locked in the closet with you is (at least) one other person who seems just as confused and disoriented as yourself.

On the door, you can both see a list with a possibly familiar title and a familiar set of rules; Seven Minutes In Heaven. The door will be locked for a probably very long seven minutes and it will not open no matter how much you try to force it. In the closet air is a hefty dose of aphrodisiacs that might be clouding your normal judgement. The longer you wait, the more you want to give in to the game.

Will they really let you out when the seven minutes are done? Or will the countdown start all over again until you consent? Only waiting will tell.

EDIT: Aphrodisiacs are OPTIONAL, not required. Also feel free to make your own scenarios, themes are merely for those wanting an idea.

Comments

[pipewrenchfights]

"Thirty-two," she responds casually. "But it's rude to ask a woman 'bout her age." If it really bothered her, though, she wouldn't have answered.

Allie tilts her head slightly, thoughtfully studying him. He's either handling the situation surprisingly well, or he's just really good at hiding it.

When he goes for the door, she steps aside, turning to face him and watch. Seems like neither of them are going to have much luck with that thing. If it actually had a keyhole, she could pick the lock. But the handle is smooth, and there aren't any screws to loosen either.

"'Old enough?'" Allie snorts, and stoops to pick up the crumpled paper she tossed aside earlier. "Real convincin'. ...We really gotta kiss for seven minutes before they let us out?" Seems to be what the instructions state. Brother. She's not exactly the romantic sort, this isn't going to be very satisfying for either of them, is it? She drops her arms, resting her hands on her hips as she paces back and looks around. "How are they gonna know what we did and didn't do? Is there a camera hidin' out around here?" she muses aloud, pushing at some of the shirts and skating the hangers further back.

[aftershocksremain]

"I'm not that ugly," Gabe quips. It's his go-to for situations he doesn't know, doesn't quite feel comfortable in. None of this does, but there's no point in getting angry. No guilt, no sadness he can reap in here. Not now. Not yet.

Maybe--maybe--this girl has a secret Gabe can expose. For now? For now he's quite content in playing the good old all-american 18 year old he's supposed to be. Keep the perfect act up, pull people apart later.

What if he doesn't have to now, though? What if he can leave the older, beautiful girl alone? He torments because that's what he's always done, but now he's not with his mother anymore. Now it's just him. Him, and no other member of the Goodman family. Why can't he have fun? She's pretty. Gabe thinks he's fairly attractive.

He's standing up now, and sure he wants to give the girl some space. He leaves a small gap for her in case anything is unwanted, not wanting to be a dick and give her some space, and he licks his lips.

"Would it be so bad to kiss me?"

[pipewrenchfights]

Allie glances back at him over her shoulder, green eyes flicking briefly up and down. He's attractive enough, true, and his scent isn't unpleasant. Under other circumstances, they might even get along. But there's still something very strange about him that she can't place, and that bothers her. He was evasive over even simple questions, and that was irritating if only because being ignorant was inherently frustrating.

"Dunno," she shrugs, and turns to face him directly. "If you just wanna get this over with, fine. That's fine." She squints, drawing her head back to regard him with a stern angle. "But there's somethin' funny about you." Allie pokes at his shoulder, just to verify that he's as solid as he looks. But he feels normal...well-built, warm to the touch. "Be straight with me. Who are you, and what are you?"

[aftershocksremain]

The words that the girl says come out of her mouth and fall on Gabriel like a bucket of ice water, and blue eyes are bright with something. A spark--unrecognizable, unreadable, but Gabe leans forward.

Allie just went from a means to an end to being interesting.

Incredibly interesting.

Not who. What. Gabe doesn't want to lie, just because it takes balls to accuse someone of being something like that. Also doesn't exactly want to tell her because he's not certain himself. All that matters is he's here, and he's away from his mother, and he's ready to latch on to something else. Someone else. Gabriel had thought, maybe, it could be this girl. That was the reason why he was here. Now he's not so certain that this girl was there to latch onto him, but to stop him.

But since when was the world so fucking black and white like that?

It isn't. So Gabe simply chuckles and takes a step towards her. He's slow, since he's already seen what she can do to a door let alone a human. It's only fair since she's touched him that the gets to touch her.

"Well," He states, keeping his voice nice and casual as both of his hands move to her hips, resting there so they're close. He looks down, offers a highschool quarterback smile. "My name's Gabe, I'm 18 years old, and currently our only way of getting out of this closet. That straight enough for you?

[pipewrenchfights]

Her stare remains fixed on his face, as if she were a living lie detector just waiting for an excuse to throw a punch. Her jaw is firm, expression challenging.

But despite the ferocity in her countenance, she's not gearing up to fight. Not yet. She wants to hear what he has to say first, because there's definitely something unnatural about him. There's not a lot of room for an outright brawl, so she's holding back. If a fight becomes necessary, she'll act. She just needs to know if it's necessary.

His eyes are so bright, and so intense, that she doesn't realize where his hands are going until she feels the warmth on her hips. The expectant stare is momentarily broken, and he's rewarded with a faint blink of surprise as she drops her head to peer at his fingers curling over the stitching of her jeans. The glance doesn't last long; he's too close to ignore.

Even though she's the one with the extra years, his confidence and poise make her feel awkward and inexperienced. Her heart beats a little faster, and her breathing quickens. She's stiff in his grasp, but not afraid, and she doesn't back down.

Green eyes dance back and forth as she studies his face shrewdly. Whatever she's looking for, it doesn't seem to be there, and her hands remain unclenched. "It's a start," she concedes. "But it's not everything I asked."

He may be hedging on account that they're trapped in a closet and possibly being monitored. If that's the case, she might understand his reluctance. For all she knows, he might even be like her, touched with something a little extra and not knowing where it came from. There are just too many questions begging to be answered.

"If I find out you're in any way responsible for my being here," she says slowly, firmly, "I'm gonna be real unhappy." Enough that she might try using his head for a battering ram against the impossible door. But she doesn't know if he's a victim or a perpetrator. In a place like this, it could be either one.

Well, whatever. She's not required to make friends with him, just kiss him for seven minutes.

[aftershocksremain]

"You're a fabulous flirt," Gabe states, and it's with all the sarcasm and snark he inherits from his mom. Flirting is nice, though. That is what they're doing, he assumes--flirting.

He's a lot better than his sister and her boyfriend, that's for damn sure. The girl is, too. In a way, Gabe doesn't want to know her name. That's too personal, he'd rather enjoy his new found freedom. Irony doesn't escape him, seeing as his version of 'free' is being trapped in a closet.

Part of him, though, still wants to get at her. Dig deeper, and not just at a level like this, his hands on her hips and faces close. He wants to know why she knows. Why she's in the room with him to start with.

Gabe pushes. Not physically, never physically, but mentally: he's always pushed buttons, forced people out of their comfort zones if need be. Always. Nothing in that aspect has changed as he guides her hips, backing her up until they hit a wall. Gabe doesn't grin, but he smirks instead, and one hand moves from her hip to move up her arm, ghosting over it, and moving to her neck where lifts her chin gently with his fingers.

"Is seven minutes with me really going to kill you?"

[pipewrenchfights]

Allie watches him closely, shrewdly wary. For someone who claims to be eighteen, he's surprisingly confident, almost making her feel like the junior in this situation. And heaven help her, the blasted chip in her neck amplifies the effects of his touch. Her heart thumps a little faster, and her breathing seems loud in her ears. She'd like to claim that he doesn't stimulate her senses in the slightest, but it's laughably untrue.

She clears her throat, unwilling to look away from his face lest he somehow think she was submitting to him. She almost digs in her feet out of sheer stubbornness as he guides her up against the wall.

"Never claimed that," she grumbles, her skin warming to the slow gliding touch of his hand. Allie places her palms on his broad shoulders, and it becomes clear in that instant just how awkward she is at expressing intimacy and affection. She's stiff, almost clumsy. Allie never claimed to be a good kisser, and she's half-dreading the eventual remarks indicating as much. Gabe, on the other hand, seems to be liquid charm, and she has no idea how to handle him.

Attempting to wrest at least some control of her situation into her own hands, she pushes her head forward, almost crushing her lips against his. There's no passion, no sentiment. It's mechanical in nature, intended to shut down any forthcoming jeers and to start the clock. The sooner she's out of here, the sooner she can throttle the person responsible for her being here in the first place.