Iris Kelly Doesn't Date (Bright Falls, #3)(70)

The kiss that had nothing to do with putting on a show for Stevie’s friends or practicing anything.

It was real.

Or was it?

Iris’s brain couldn’t make sense of it, couldn’t figure out what she even felt about it. Stevie had been upset and Iris helped. Sure, they were attracted to each other. Of course they were. And of course, with all this time they spent together, they were getting to know each other better.

Care about each other.

Wasn’t that to be expected? It didn’t mean anything. Iris cared about a lot of people.

“Almost there,” Iris said now as she looked over her shoulder at Stevie. Stevie smiled back at her, the straw-colored cowboy hat Iris had given her tilted over one eye, her shaggy curls coiling just over her shoulders.

Fuck, she looked cute.

Iris tipped her own dark brown hat at her—maybe more drama would simmer down her blood a bit. Hell, it had always worked in the past.

Iris is acting a bit emotional, oh shit, what do we do?

Iris always knew—more laughter, more jokes, more Iris. That was what everyone expected from her. Even Stevie, who laughed and shook her head, a beautiful blush creeping onto her creamy cheeks.

Iris squeezed her hand and broke through the crowd to where her friends were already a drink into the night.

“You both look amazing!” Claire said, reaching out for Iris and kissing her on the cheek.

“I know,” Iris said, releasing Stevie and doing a little twirl, showing off her short, lace-ruffled skirt with the denim waist paired with a pair of authentic red cowboy boots and a red bandanna-patterned crop top.

“Don’t give her another compliment, I beg you,” Delilah said. She was lounging in the corner of the booth, dressed in her quintessential goth colors—a dark burgundy tank and black jeans.

“Shut it, Morticia,” Iris said, flipping her off, but Delilah just smiled, tipping her bourbon in Iris’s direction. Iris blew her a kiss.

“Stevie, good to see you,” said Astrid, who was dressed in a vanilla-white tank and dark jeans, but at least she had on a cowboy hat.

“Hey,” Stevie said. “Nice to see you all again.”

“How’s the play going?” Jordan asked. She had on a button-up with tiny green cacti printed all over it, one hand on the back of Astrid’s neck, fingers playing in her hair.

“Good,” Stevie said. “Iris is amazing.”

“Of course she is,” Claire said. “Sit, sit!”

“We’re going to get a drink first,” Iris said, “but here, honey, hold my purse.” She tossed her fringed bag at Delilah, who caught it deftly, then looped it over her own tattooed shoulder.

“Finders keepers,” she said.

Iris just laughed, then turned and guided Stevie toward the bar. She nearly took her hand again, but that might not prove a very wise move if every eligible queer person in Stella’s thought she and Iris were together, so she settled for a gentle press between Stevie’s shoulders.

“Club soda?” Iris asked once they reached the bar.

Stevie smiled at her. “Yeah.”

Iris ordered Stevie’s drink, along with an Adios, Motherfucker for herself, because why the hell not. Long Island iced tea was never a wise decision for anyone, in Iris’s opinion, but tonight, she honestly didn’t give a shit.

“Okay, let’s strategize,” she said once she had a drink in hand. She took a long pull, willing the liquor to fortify her for this. Maybe she’d even find someone she liked too—she hadn’t had sex in way too long and god knew all this . . . whatever she and Stevie were doing had her sufficiently charged.

Granted, she knew every queer person in Bright Falls . . . all, like, ten of them, if you didn’t count her own motley crew. Only a few who identified as women or nonbinary were even available in terms of couple-hood, and her eyes scanned the room for them.

“Okay, yeah,” Stevie said, sipping her soda. Her voice trembled a bit.

Iris glanced at her. “You sure you want to do this?”

Stevie nodded vigorously, but her eyes were wide, her mouth shaking a little like she was working on her breathing.

“Stevie,” Iris said, touching her elbow. “You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do.”

Iris swallowed, something pulling tight in her chest. “Okay,” she said softly. “Then let’s do it.”

Stevie met her gaze, both of them holding there for a split second before Iris forced her eyes away. A country song started up over the sound system and a squeal of excitement pulsed through the crowd. Out in the middle of the room, where tables had been pushed to the edges, dancers gathered on the dusty hardwoods, immediately falling into a line dance Iris recognized from the last time she’d come.

“Wow, everyone really knows how to line dance here,” Stevie said.

Iris laughed. “Yeah, they take it pretty seriously. Small town, not a lot to do.”

Stevie nodded, her amber eyes taking in the kicks and shuffles, the thumbs tucked into belt buckles. Iris saw Jordan and Astrid out there, Jordan really playing it up while Astrid, of course, performed a perfect routine. Iris made it her evening goal to get Delilah, whose New York City side refused to dance to country music unless it was a slow song with Claire, onto the dance floor.

Iris leaned back against the bar and was just about to suggest she and Stevie give it a try, just to loosen Stevie up a bit, when Iris saw her.