Iris Kelly Doesn't Date (Bright Falls, #3)(32)

This might work. Iris had no interest writing the trope into her book—Tegan McKee didn’t seem like the type, and Iris didn’t know if she could pull it off believably, if she was being honest—but spending time with Stevie in a romantic setting could break through Iris’s block. She could actually experience a little romance. A few dates. Hand holding. Get her head back in the true love game without a single messy string attached.

Because it was all fake.

Plus, she really wanted to do this play. Reading for Beatrice on stage, she’d felt excited. Passionate. It was fun, and if nothing else, Iris Kelly was all about fun.

“Okay,” Iris said. “But if we do this, I’ll need a few things from you.”

“Wait . . .” Stevie said. “You actually want to fake date me?”

“I want to fake date someone. And I want to do this play, so I think we’re at an impasse where Much Ado is concerned.”

“I can just tell them the truth,” Stevie said. “I’ll go out there right now and—”

“No way in hell you can do that,” Iris said. “Not if I’m playing Beatrice.” If Stevie admitted to her friends—and her ex, who also happened to be the director—that she puked all over Iris and then lied that they were banging, that would make for some very awkward onstage dynamics. Not to mention the utter humiliation, and Stevie seemed like she’d already had enough of that. It was all a bit too much drama for any one person to take, even in this theatrical setting.

Stevie’s shoulders visibly relaxed, but then her brows crinkled together. “Wait, did you say you wanted to fake date someone?”

Iris grinned. “Well, see, that’s where you can help me—with research.” But before she could explain any further, the door flew open to reveal Simon.

“Hey, there you are,” he said. “That wondrously gorgeous woman out there told me they offered you Beatrice. Iris, that’s amazing! Tell me you’re going to accept. I refuse to let you pass—”

He froze, his gaze darting to Stevie.

“Oh. Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “I was just . . . hang on.” His pushed up his glasses, then pointed his finger at Stevie. “Aren’t you the throw-up girl?”

“Simon, Jesus,” Iris said.

“Sorry, just . . . well, aren’t you?” Simon asked, his face an amalgam of confusion and amusement.

“Um, yeah . . . I guess that’s me,” Stevie said, swallowing over and over again like she just might do an encore of the vomit incident itself.

“She’s also playing Benedick,” Iris said, then grabbed Stevie’s hand and laced their fingers together, “as well as my fake girlfriend.”

A charged silence spilled in between them. Simon blinked at her, his mouth open, and Iris fought the urge to laugh.

“Isn’t telling people we’re fake dating sort of defeating the purpose?” Stevie asked quietly.

“With your crew, yes,” Iris said. “My group? They’d never buy it.”

“Why not?” Stevie asked.

“Because Iris doesn’t do girlfriends,” Simon said slowly, his expression still a model of What the fuck?

“Or partners of any kind,” Iris said. “But it’s fine. I don’t need you to convince my friends that you love me. I just need you to hang out with me a little, act like my girlfriend, maybe go on a few romantic dates so I can get a feel for what it’s like again.”

“For what what’s like?” Stevie asked.

“Love,” Iris said, waving a hand. “Romance. You know, soul mates and stars and moons and all that shit.”

Stevie blinked, but Simon face-palmed himself.

“Oh my god, this is for your book,” he said.

“What book?” Stevie asked. “What the hell is happening?”

Iris released Stevie’s sweaty palm and turned to face her. “I write romance novels and I’m a bit stuck. I just need a little inspiration, that’s all. I’m hoping some good old-fashioned courting will get me back in the mood.”

“And I can help you do that?” Stevie asked.

Iris nodded. “Totally. I’ll be your fake girlfriend around your friends and when we’re at the theater. You be my romance guinea pig.”

Simon looked horrified.

“Okay, that didn’t sound great,” Iris said. “The guinea pig part, but it’s not a big deal. I date you, you date me.”

“Fakely,” Stevie said.

“Hey, this was your idea,” Iris said, folding her arms. “We can just tell Adri and her Aphrodite girlfriend that you lied and—”

“No,” Stevie said, shaking her head. “I’m in. I can do it.”

“I don’t understand a fucking thing that’s happening right now,” Simon said, sending both hands through his hair. “They should make pills for this.”

“I’m sure they do,” Iris said, patting his cheek.

“Stevie?”

Footsteps sounded on the concrete, and Adri and Vanessa appeared in the hallway.

“Oh,” Iris said quietly, “showtime. Simon, be cool.”

“Be cool how?”

“Just shut up,” Iris said to him and then yanked Stevie closer, arm curled around her waist. Stevie was a fucking brick wall next to her—that was going to need some work.