Page 54 of Champagne Fizz

“Kendall,” Simon whispers, “this condition isn’t a problem. I like it. It’s hot as hell.”

“Of course, you’d think that,” I snip, feeling wild. “What an ego boost, huh? Kiss a girl and make her—” I swallow the word again instead of saying it. “That’s got to make you feel extra macho.”

“I like you, Kendall,” Simon says, trying to convince me he’s genuine, even as his grip squeezes me tighter and reels me in. “And yes, of course it’s super-hot to watch you orgasm.”

He lets that word sit between us, showing me just how unafraid he is to say it.

Then his eyes dilate, and I know he’s eager to watch me do it again. Which makes Lady Lada want to faint.

I take a deep breath—several breaths—the big obnoxious kind they tell you to take when you’re about to pass out.

“Kendall,” Simon says, noting the way my chest heaves. “I’d feel that way even if you didn’t have a condition.”

“I’m not a science experiment!”

“I never said you were.”

I breathe deeper as Simon steps closer.

“I like you too, Kendall,” he says. “What about that screams ‘I’m going to make you all hot n’ bothered in the most inappropriate moments?’”

My jaw tightens and I look away, emotion pricking my eyes and catching me off guard with how fast it surfaces.

“Are you serious?” he asks. “Have other guys actually done that to you?”

“A freak show is a freak show,” I say hoarsely, giving him an unconvincing shrug. “Look …” I try to reel in my emotions and ignore the shame that crawls up my neck. “This is very simple, Simon. I don’t date. Anyone. Ever. It’s much easier than—”

I motion to my traitorous body.

“It can’t be that bad.”

“It is.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t believe you don’t date—”

“I haven’t, Simon! I don’t,” I spell it out. “I learned this really early in life. Boyfriends, hookups, all of it—they’re bad news. Don’t date. Don’t kiss. Don’t do any of it. Make life easy.”

“That’s—”

“Never!” I emphasize, looking at him hard. But his expression isn’t frustrated or disbelieving anymore. It’s just sad. And then something clicks in his head.

“Wait!” His eyebrows pinch and his eyes widen. “Are you saying you’ve never—?”

Which is when I realize what I’ve actually just said.

Never.

Never meansvirgin.

That shameful pain pricks at the back of my eyes again, but I hear footsteps and a door opening.

“They’re here,” I say quickly, wiping my cheeks. My body feels like an exploded pomegranate, and somehow I’m supposed to conduct this meeting. Simon’s eyes flick over my shoulder, then he takes my hand firmly and walks me out of the dining room.

“Simon, I have to—”

“Your face is hot pink, Kendall.” He moves us down a dark hall and opens a door. “If you haven’t guessed yet, other than her ability to cook and swear like a sailor, Arie’s superpower is sniffing out sex like a bloodhound.”

I swallow hard at that word. It feels like a bomb.

---