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!' N-no! Wha—? Me? But... but it... it can't... I... I didn't... I thought... It was s-supposed to be... a girl. Anyone... but... you? An hour. Oh god. Wh-what do we...? I... I can't...