Paolo laughs. “We had some family who moved here a few years before us. One of my cousins got accepted to physical therapy school at University Health. My parents kept hearing about how nice life was here, so we moved. They opened a restaurant similar to the one they had back home, and it’s done well. Mom got involved with this Christmas party when we first got here as a way to get to know people, and she’s now on the board or something like that.”

My phone beeps and I scramble in my purse to pull it out. “Sorry, I’m expecting a message from my sister. She’s a few weeks away from having her first baby and she’s on bed rest.”

“Is she okay?” he asks.

“I think so,” I mutter as I open her message.

MARGOT: Olivia sent me a pic of you. You look so beautiful

ME: Are you ok? Haven’t heard from you all day!

MARGOT: I’m fine. Had to go back to the doctor. But I’m home now. Just tired. Send me some pics tonight. And have fun.

ME: I will.

I’m just about to put my phone back in my bag when it dings once more. But it’s not a message from Margot.

JUDD: Don’t forget about the challenges.

I roll my eyes and slip my phone back in my bag. Turning to Paolo, I say, “So there is one other thing you can help me out with.”

***

Paolo told me the theme to this year’s party was “Feel the Beat,” so I’m expecting something music-related, but I’m not expecting the group of singing Elvises that are on the curb next to the valet stand. We’re barely out of Paolo’s car before it’s whisked away. There’s a desk to one side with a woman dressed like Madonna from her early years. She squeals when she sees Paolo.

“You made it!” And then she looks at me and squeals again. “Sara said you were adorable and she was right!”

Paolo turns toward me. “Sophie, this is my mom, Riya.”

“But you can call me Madonna tonight!” She slaps some wristbands on us and hugs Paolo across the table. “Y’all have fun!”

We walk past the Elvises, who are belting out “Hound Dog,” and stop in front of a small—very small — building next to a large group of people. It’s not really even a building. It’s more like a box with a set of double doors on the front. And we’re all just standing in front of it.

“What is this?”

Paolo laughs. “The elevator.”

I look around, but there’s nothing else. “Where does the elevator go?”

Paolo squeezes my hand. “You’ll see.”

When it opens, there’s man inside who’s a dead ringer for the lead singer of Aerosmith. He holds the doors open and says, “Going down?”

I giggle and we load as many people inside as possible. As soon as the doors shut, the Steven Tyler look-alike starts belting out “Love in an Elevator.” He sounds just like the original.

“This is wild,” I stage-whisper to Paolo.

“We haven’t even gotten inside yet.”

The elevator doors open up and I scoot in close to Paolo, afraid of getting swept away with the crowd. It’s packed, but the ceilings are so high and the space is so big that it’s not claustrophobic.

“There was a building that stood here years ago, but it got torn down,” Paolo tells me. “This space was the basement someone refurbished about ten years ago.”

There’s so much going on at once that I almost can’t take in what I’m seeing. The space is divided in sections, like big rooms. Each section has a musical theme.

“Let’s check it out,” Paolo says, and pulls me along. I think there are as many people working the different areas as there are guests. There’s a fifties area complete with girls in poodle skirts dancing with guys in leather jackets, a hall with enormous masks of the painted faces from KISS, a room that’s purple from top to bottom with a Prince look-alike belting out “Little Red Corvette”…It goes on and on. By the time we get to the back of the space, we’ve gone through ten different staged areas. And roaming through each space are entertainers: a girl on stilts, acrobats, and even a man swallowing fire and then blowing it back out.

But it’s the main room that blows me away. It’s basically a carnival. Everything glows in the dark neon lights, and there are girls hanging from swings suspended in the air and guys jumping from pole to pole above us. I’ve never seen anything like it.

I follow Paolo to a round dessert table. A woman is lying across the top of it on her stomach, wearing only a red thong and tiny bikini top. She’s acting as a human serving tray for miniature cupcakes. The cupcakes are sitting on her back, her legs, and even her butt cheeks. She’s got her chin resting in her hands, and she turns to look at Paolo and me.

“I recommend the red velvet ones. They’re sinfully delicious,” she says, blowing us a kiss.

Paolo laughs, then pushes me toward the table. “Looks like we can knock out one of those challenges!”

He holds his phone up while I take baby steps toward the table. People all around me are snatching cupcakes off her and posing for pictures. It’s just a cupcake, I tell myself. And it’s in one of those paper wrappers, so it’s not actually touching her skin.

As awkward as this is, I’m glad Judd issued the challenges, since it’s giving us something to do. But of course, I’ll never tell Judd that.

I turn around to make sure Paolo is getting this. He gives me a thumbs-up. I quickly grab a chocolate cupcake from the small of her back. All of the red velvet ones are on her butt, and I just couldn’t bring myself to touch them, bonus points or not.

I hold up the cupcake and smile at the camera, then shove it in my mouth. I may not want to do these challenges, but there’s no way I’m losing. Judd said if I don’t complete them all, I have to go on a second date with Hundred Hands Harold. Olivia, who was texting on my behalf, made Judd promise to streak down Nonna’s street wearing nothing more than a Santa hat and a smile if I finished his list. Truthfully, we’re all losers in this challenge if I have to witness that.

“One down, nine to go,” Paolo says, laughing. “Seriously, the one I’m looking forward to is watching you spin around a pole. I think I saw one in the heavy-metal room.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this,” I say as he drags me into another area.

The girl on the table calls after us, “You can come back for seconds anytime!”

***

Before the night is over, I complete all of the challenges, including participating in a limbo competition, singing onstage with the backup singers in the Motown room, and swing dancing with one of the Elvises. We’ve also filled my timeline with a ton of pics. I have twelve unread messages from Griffin.

We drop down on a bench at the street level, waiting for the valet to bring Paolo’s car back. It’s blissfully quiet up here compared to the party downstairs.

Paolo nudges me with his shoulder. “That was more fun than I thought it would be. Hundred Hands Harold must have been a pretty bad date if you don’t want a repeat.”

I nudge him back. “You have no idea. I can’t believe I agreed to do all of that. It’s so unlike me.”

“I think it’s awesome. And maybe your ex was the one holding you back. Keeping that fun side locked down. I was worried when my little sister’s friend said she wanted to set me up on a date, but this was great.”

My phone dings again and both of us look at the screen. Message thirteen from Griffin.

“And mission accomplished,” Paolo says.

I nod, then look at him. “None of this is going to mess things up with the girl you like, is it?” I really don’t want her to get upset if she sees pictures of us together.

“No, she was here tonight, actually. We talked while you and the Supremes were singing ‘Stop! In the Name of Love.’ ” He laughs again. “I explained what was going on, and I think I actually got some brownie points from her for helping you out.”

“Good! I’m glad I could help,” I say. And I mean it. Paolo is a really cool guy. I just hope the girl comes to her senses and snaps him up.

By the time Paolo drops me off at Nonna’s, I’m exhausted. And my feet are killing me.

What I’m not expecting is for Charlie, Wes, and Judd to jump off the porch and break out in a rendition of the song I sang with the Supremes cover band.

“Please don’t tell me I sounded that bad,” I say when they’re done.

Charlie checks his watch and pulls out a piece of paper from his back pocket, then lets out a groan. “Ugh. Uncle Ronnie won the pot tonight.” He starts texting.

“You were awesome,” Judd says. “Especially when you rode that bull sidesaddle. I mean, awesome.”

“Glad I could entertain you,” I say. Truthfully, the challenges made my night.

“Not sure why you’re excited, Judd. This means you lost,” Wes says.

“Seeing me run naked down this street is a win for everyone,” he says.

“Just make sure we have plenty of notice so I can make sure I’m not here,” Charlie answers.

“Me too,” says Wes.

I raise a hand. “Me three.”

Charlie and Judd wander back inside the house, arguing over the logistics of the run, but Wes drops down on the front steps, and I sit next to him.

His shoulder nearly touches mine. I stretch my legs out and kick off my shoes. “God, that feels good.”

“You look really pretty,” Wes says, nudging his shoulder against mine.

“Thanks,” I say, nudging him back.

Wes rests his elbows on the step behind him. “So if you had to, rank your dates so far — best to worst.”

I twist around until I’m curled up on the step, facing him. “Clearly, Harold was the worst. And not just him but the whole date. I mean, any date where goats are eating your clothes has gone downhill.” Wes laughs while I continue, “For first place, hmmm…I had a lot of fun on the first one with Seth. And tonight was a blast, too.”