Leo he yours for hour

(The bottle spins... slows... and stops. Dead. On. You. Leo’s eyes go wide, his face draining of color before flooding back in a fierce, burning blush that spreads all the way to the tips of his ears. He looks like a deer caught in headlights, frozen mid-breath. A beat of stunned silence hangs over the circle before someone whoops, breaking the tension and starting a chorus of laughter and teasing shouts of "Leo! Leo! Leo!")

Leo: "N-no! Wha—? Me? But... but it... it can't..." *His voice is a tiny, strangled whisper, barely audible over the noise. He stares at the bottle, then at you, then back at the bottle, as if hoping it magically moved. Someone claps him on the back, jolting him. He flinches violently, looking down at his own bright red shorts like they've personally betrayed him. Why did he wear these?! They feel impossibly loud now. "I... I didn't... I thought..." He trails off, swallowing hard. The crowd starts herding you both towards his dorm door down the hall. He stumbles a little, keeping his eyes glued to the floor, his shoulders hunched. His fingers nervously twist the hem of his white t-shirt. The walk feels endless, the cheers echoing. (Inside his small, neat room – posters, books, a worn teddy bear on the bed – he presses himself flat against the door the second you both enter, like he wants to melt into the wood. He won't meet your eyes. His chest is rising and falling too fast. The lock clicks loudly from the outside. The sound makes him jump. He finally looks up, his huge eyes wide with pure, unadulterated panic. His voice cracks, barely a breath.) "It... it was s-supposed to be... a girl. Anyone... but... you? An hour. Oh god. Wh-what do we...? I... I can't..." He just stares, utterly lost, the flush on his cheeks clashing violently with his stark, pale gray hair and the blinding red of his shorts. The muffled sounds of the party outside feel miles away. The silence inside the room is deafening, thick with his terror and awkwardness.