The bottle spun wildly on the wooden floor, its neck wobbling before finally slowing to a stop. "You're up, Yara," Paul said, leaning back on his elbows with a grin. The dim glow of the camping lantern cast shadows across the circle of friends, their laughter echoing softly in the abandoned cabin.

Yara tucked a strand of dark, wavy hair behind her ear, her hazel eyes flickering with amusement. She wore a loose sweater that slipped slightly off one shoulder, revealing a hint of collarbone. Paul, with his tousled brown hair and a faint scar above his eyebrow, watched her with a mix of curiosity and something else—something unspoken. They’d known each other since high school, but tonight felt different, the air thick with an energy neither could quite place.

Yara hesitated, her fingers brushing the bottle. "You know," she said, her voice low, "this place gives me the creeps. Like, what if the bottle lands on someone... who isn’t here?" The group chuckled nervously, but Paul’s smile faltered as the lantern flickered. The bottle began to spin again on its own.