Page 24 of Champagne Fizz

“Um, uh—” I stutter, not knowing what to say to that. Simon laughs like he’d expect nothing less from Mason, which is when I see the details of Mason’s yellow shirt. The pattern isn’t Hawaiian flowers like I first thought. They’re drawn with a flowery quality, but they’re—

Realization washes over me.

They’re penises.

Mason’s Hawaiian shirt is covered in penises pushing themselves between the petals of the Hawaiian flowers like, well … Pina-Goes-In-Your-Lada style.

Are all of Olivia and Ned’s friends raunchy sex fiends?

“You just figured out what’s on Mason’s Hawaiian shirt, didn’t you?” Simon asks, and I nod stiffly, not sure if I’m hot pink or ghastly white. Simon laughs, enjoying this whole make-Kendall-blush-neon spectacle.

“Oh yeah,” Mason says, looking down at his shirt with a proud grin. “Penetration flowers! These are the erect—”

He points to the male part like I need an anatomy lesson.

“I understand how it works,” I say crisply, trying to get him to stop. “Pina Colada.” I point to the sign. “I get it.”

“Yeah!” Mason praises, putting his arms up in the air like I just scored a touchdown. “Pina-Goes-In-Your-Lada!”

“Mason makes Flambé look classy now, doesn’t he?” Simon asks, leaning in and brushing his shoulder against mine. My Lady Lada perks up at the connection, wondering if it’s time for the Luau.

“Yes, he does,” I cough out, crossing my legs as I admit Simon has a point. “You brought me here on purpose, didn’t you?”

“You could have the wedding here,” he chides.

“I could commit career suicide,” I agree.

“You don’t think naming your company Weddings with Hart didn’t already do that?”

“It’s my name!”

He tosses a flirty smile at me from behind his horn-rimmed glasses and puts a hand on my elbow. “I’m messing with you,” he says kindly. “It’s actually cute.” Only, my whole body is ready to erupt with the fact that he’s touching my skin again … moving his fingers to the soft underside of my arm.

Yup, Lady Lada is sloshing around like it’s about to be Pina Colada blender time.

“I take your point,” I say shortly, pulling my arm from his touch, because I’m going to be claiming IBS in another second if he keeps looking at me with those blue eyes and touching me.

“Okay, so a Pina-Goes-In-Your-Lada for Good Tits here,” Mason says, pointing at me. “And Simon, you’re going to have—?”

“No,” I interrupt. “I’ll just have a water, thank you. I don’t drink.”

I feel Simon’s eyes cut to me in question and once again my body flames. It’s not that I’m a prude or anything. I’m not some holier-than-thou anti-alcohol tyrant. I actually like alcohol. I just don’t like what it does to me. I have a condition, remember, and drinking lowers one’s inhibitions. So, as much fun as it sounds to orgasm in front of your friends while drunk, one needs to have an infinitely thicker skin than I do to become the punch-line party guest that everyone’s gawking at.

Been there. Done that.

Best avoided at all costs.

“Okay, oneVirginPina-Goes-In-Your-Lada for Good Tits,” Mason corrects.

“Just water,” I say forcefully. “No virgin anything, thank you.” My eyes cut to Simon, and I can’t control the expression on my face. I shouldn’t be embarrassed saying the word virgin out loud. It’s not like I said:I’m a virgin. It’s just a word. A totally normal word—particularly in this context. It isn’t a thing.

“I’ll have a water too,” Simon says to be nice, but it just makes everything more awkward.

“No, you can drink,” I say quickly. “I’m not anti-alcohol. You drink. Please drink. I’m just anti-me-drinking.”

“How about we both have a virgin then?” Simon offers, and I know he’s talking about the drinks, but my body hears something completely different. My body hears him sayhe’dlike a virgin, and now my insides are overheating, ready to offer him Lady Lada on a plate. One virgin coming up, naked and with a slice of pineapple and a tiny umbrella on top.

“Sure,” I concede, looking at Mason and avoiding whatever gaze Simon is holding. I can’t look at him right now with the way my brain is misfiring. “The drink. No alcohol. And a glass of water as well.”

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