Iris Kelly Doesn't Date (Bright Falls, #3)(49)

But it wasn’t.

And she felt the second Stevie remembered it. Stevie froze, then stepped back so far, the inches between them turned into feet before Iris could blink.

“Shit,” Iris said. “Stevie, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Stevie said, shaking her head. “I’m the one who took it to the next level. I should’ve asked.”

“You’re freaking out.”

Stevie closed her eyes, suddenly breathing like a struggling air-conditioning unit. “A bit. It’s not your fault, I promise. I just need a second.”

“What can I do?”

Stevie shook her head, arms crossing over her chest. “Hand me my shirt?”

Iris scooped up the tank, then looped it over Stevie’s head in the least sexy way possible. Stevie pulled it down around her hips, her breathing a little slower, but not quite back to normal. Iris grabbed her own shirt and slipped it on while Stevie’s chest continued to heave.

“Should I get a bucket?” Iris asked.

And that did it.

Stevie’s eyes went wide, then her harsh breathing stopped abruptly before it shifted into laughter. It was a deep laugh, full-mouthed and beautiful, and Iris cracked up too. Soon, the two of them were laughing so hard, Iris’s stomach hurt, and they collapsed onto the sofa, the candles still flickering all around them.

“Well,” Stevie said when they’d stopped. “I made it further than last time, at least.”

“You did.” Iris sat up and wiped her eyes. “And it didn’t end in vomit, which is always a plus.”

“Growth.” Stevie sat up too, leaning her elbows on her knees. “Thank you.”

Iris met her gaze, and they both held it for what felt like a second too long. She cleared her throat. “I’m not sure how much I actually helped.”

“You helped,” Stevie said. “A lot. Just talking me through it. Reminding me of control, reminding me of, well, me.”

Iris nodded, but for some reason, she couldn’t look at Stevie anymore. “Well, thanks for the romance help.”

“You’re welcome.”

They sat there, the languid music still curling around them, and Iris suddenly needed to be alone like she needed a cold shower. This wasn’t new—every now and then, despite her raging extroverted nature, she needed silence, quiet, time to process, and hell if she didn’t need to process a bit now. Her limbs felt shaky, her heart beating a little too fast, and it didn’t help that her clit still thrummed between her legs after her and Stevie’s . . .

Lesson.

That’s all it was.

She got up and started blowing out the candles. “I think we better call it a night,” she said in between puffs.

“Yeah,” Stevie said, rising as well and helping Iris darken the room. Soon, only the twinkle lights lit the room, which still felt far too fucking romantic for Iris’s taste. She yanked the plug from the wall by the window, plunging them into momentary darkness.





HOURS AFTER STEVIE left, after they’d agreed that Iris would meet Stevie at her apartment in Portland next Friday to go to the airport for the LA trip together, Iris still couldn’t sleep.

She laid in her bed, eyes wide open on her ceiling fan, playing the night—the whole day, actually—over and over in her head. She couldn’t shake this restless feeling. She’d already gotten herself off—no way she could function properly after what she and Stevie did without some relief—and she’d reheated and eaten her Moonpies burger. She’d showered, cleaned up the popcorn, put all the candles back in their rightful spots.

And yet.

She groaned and rolled over, squeezing her eyes shut to force them into slumber. Still, when her phone buzzed on her nightstand, she leaped into action, glad for another distraction. She saw a message from Claire in the group chat, whose name had now changed to So Many Queerstions.


Claire: Are we just going to ignore the fact that Iris brought a fake girlfriend to the pool today?

Iris: Ideally, yes

Astrid: Oh thank god. I’ve got so many questions

Iris: Ah, so you’re the name-changing culprit

Delilah: No that was me. Queerly

Jordan: She’s cute, Iris

Claire: So cute. SO WHY IS SHE FAKE?

Iris: Easy killer

Claire: The question stands

Iris: I think you mean queerstion

Jordan: Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue

Delilah: Speaking of tongues, are you fake fucking too?

Claire: Babe

Astrid: Delilah

Delilah: It’s a valid queerstion!



Iris sighed, then tapped out a quick explanation about the play and Stevie’s ex. The group erupted in congratulations at her playing Beatrice, which Iris had to admit, felt pretty nice, but then they got back down to the real business at hand, because of course they did.


Delilah: So you’re Stevie’s hero

Iris: It’s mutually beneficial

Astrid: Are you really that desperate for romantic content?

Delilah: Nice choice of words

Astrid: Did I accidentally go all Isabel again?

Jordan: A bit, babe

Astrid: Sorry



Iris pressed her fingers into her eyes.


Iris: Look it’s fine. Stevie’s nice and we’re helping each other out, that’s all this is