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“Oh my God. It’s true!” Amelia abandons her breakfast burrito.

“What’s true?” Sophia turns to the room with wide eyes.

“You and Gio . . .” Matt stands to hump the table. He slaps the surface like it’s a bouncing ass.

I squeeze my eyes shut and groan.

“Matt!” Casey screams. With a few hand gestures, she signals she will remove his balls and repurpose them as a change purse.

Matt’s excitement fades, his body shrinking. He melts into his seat like her humble servant.

Amelia crosses the room to reach for Sophia’s hands. “Babe, the entire social-media universe believes you and Gio are an item.”

Sophia looks to me, and I wave in a way that suggests, Welcome to the madhouse.

Casey’s phone rings, and she steps into the hallway. Her conversation continues in the background.

Unable to deal with this group exercise any longer, I cross the room, grab Sophia’s arm, and lead her outside. This is between us, not them. When we’re away from prying ears, I face her.

“What now?” She mirrors my stance.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you last night. I got . . . distracted.”

“I don’t understand.” She shakes her head.

I sigh. “Your festival-contest comment got a lot of traction. So much that I had to delete the entire post.” I cross my arms.

Her gaze falls to my forearms, scans my tattoos, and lands on my eyes. “So?”

“Sophia.” I place my hands on her shoulders and squeeze.

She looks at them and back to me.

“Roman commented on the post too. The entire world has seen my post, your comment, and his response. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Sophia’s brightness fades.

I hate that I’m the one who ruined her good mood.

“Our little online flirting added fuel to the angry-bride bonfire,” I say. “In fact, it exploded.”

“What makes you think I care what anyone thinks?” Sophia brushes my hands off her shoulders, and I sense we’re taking a step back. We’re acting like last night didn’t happen.

I remind myself that this is what I agreed to. One night. The challenge to do better next time was open-ended. We didn’t exactly pencil in the next meeting. Who knows if she even meant it.

“Your ex is sharing private things about you in retaliation. That doesn’t bother you?” Personally, I’m ready to murder the asshole.

Sophia’s face scrunches, but her reaction is not what I expect. No, she looks like she wants to kick Roman’s ass. Her anger is radiant and magnificent. Her blond waves coil in the wind like Medusa. She’s so terrifying that I take step back.

“Let me guess.” Sophia stomps in a circle as her fists punch the air. “Roman announced to the world I’m a virgin.”

I nod. The fact she can nail this guess on the first try tells me this was a bone of contention in their relationship.

“First of all, virgin is not a dirty word. If I were a virgin, I wouldn’t care if people knew. Plenty of people wait until they’re married. Some people may never have sex. Maybe they’re happy going single-player. Maybe sex isn’t important to them. Maybe they don’t care, and that’s great! I love that for them and anyone who chooses celibacy. But I’m not a virgin, I’m self-re-virginized, and he knows that!”

Sophia walks away, but I grip her forearm and tug her back into our conversation. “Hold on. What does that mean?”

“You know what’s truly dirty?” She ignores my question and continues her rant. “When people you love betray you. Or when partners treat you like trash. Or when making out with boyfriends is so unfulfilling, you never feel comfortable moving on to sex. You can’t even get off!” She stomps her foot.