Page 86 of Who's Your Daddy?

Isabella seems to be the most adventurous because she goes up first, and Tommy sprays some into her mouth. “Is that strawberry schnapps?”

“I looked everywhere but couldn’t find pink gin,” Cat replies before opening her mouth to get her shot.

I smile to myself. She really put so much effort into this. I watch as the other ladies drink up, and Tommy makes some questionable sounds as his boob slowly deflates.

He thrusts the remaining two into my face. “Alright, Lia, you’re up. Which one?”

“I think...I’ll go for the one in the middle.”

“Excellent choice.”

“Please don’t let it be pink. Please don’t let it be pink,” Peter whispers beside me.

Tommy punctures the balloon and an excited whoop bursts out of Peter when blue liquid gushes out. “C’mon, gents, it’s your turn.”

Dylan, Scott, and Peter each take a sip of the blue Zappa Sambuca until it’s deflated as well.

“Okay, can I get a drum roll, please,” Isabella says dramatically.

Scott and Dylan tap their hands against the table, starting slowly before gaining momentum. The build-up is electric. Anticipation heightening with every passing second.

“Close your eyes,” Tommy says to Peter. “You’re gonna drink this straight without looking.”

“Then how will I know?”

“We’ll tell you what color your tongue is.”

Peter isn’t happy with this arrangement but doesn’t argue. He closes his eyes and Tommy pokes a hole in the balloon.

Dylan starts a chant. “Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!”

Everyone joins in. I’ve never been to college, but this kind of makes me feel like I’ve at least experienced a frat party.

Peter slurps down every drop, then sticks out his tongue. “What color is it?”

“It’s pink,” Dylan shouts out.

“It is not!”

“It’s blue,” Tori and Shontelle say in unison.

“It’s pink,” Cat and Scott yell.

Peter turns to me. “Li, you wouldn’t lie to me. What color is it?”

I cup his face with both hands and kiss him. “It’s blue.”

“I knew it!” This man loses it. The widest grin takes over his face before his arms curl around me in a tight bear hug.

Someone pops champagne to celebrate. The staff bring out a whole buffet for dinner. As the evening turns into night, lanterns and fairy lights cast a warm, ethereal glow across the deck. Tommy and Isa remain our ever-entertaining hosts, playing songs that are perfect for a beach party.

DeBarge’sRhythm of The Nightblasts through the speakers, and Catalina grabs Scott’s hand.

“C’mon, Soldier. This is our kind of song.”

In one smooth motion, Scott pulls her arm around his neck and their feet are in sync from the first second. These two are fire on the dance floor. It looks like they’ve danced a thousand dances together. They stare adoringly at each other as they laugh and spin around.

Dylan and Isabella, on the other hand, are apparently going to be babysitting little Neymar tomorrow, and they’re arguing about who’s on diaper duty.

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