She wasn’t sure she even remembered how to cuddle, but as Stevie seemed to sink against her, she found herself doing the same, her body acting and reacting on its own. She pressed her face to Stevie’s hair, slotted her knees behind Stevie’s legs in a perfect spoon. Stevie’s hands tangled with hers, and they both exhaled together, like a song or dance—Iris wasn’t sure which.
Iris wasn’t sure about a lot of things right now.
But soon it didn’t matter, because Stevie’s breathing went deep and even. Iris’s own eyes grew heavy, Stevie’s rhythm and warmth pulling her into an easy sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY
STEVIE WOKE BEFORE Iris. It took her a few seconds to remember where she was, why she was there. She kept still, not daring to move or let herself roll over and do something pathetic, like gaze at Iris while she slept.
Stevie had simply needed some comfort last night. That was all that was. Desperation brought on by confusion, anger, exhaustion.
Some of that still lingered, but it was clearer now.
Adri was clearer.
Her best friend, first and only lover, partner for six years. Adri did love her. Stevie believed that. Adri was used to taking care of Stevie, used to helping her navigate the world, their relationship, their sex life, even theater.
Stevie was used to that too.
She supposed they were both having a hard time letting go, but Stevie knew she needed to. Beyond the stage, Adri had zero faith in her, that much was clear now. And maybe part of that was Stevie’s fault—she didn’t have much faith in herself—but she knew Ren was right.
Stevie was stuck.
And if she didn’t figure out how to take care of herself, do what she wanted when she wanted it, she’d always be right where she was.
Next to her, Iris stirred, and Stevie’s body instinctively turned over.
Big mistake.
Because Iris Kelly was fucking gorgeous in the morning.
Stevie imagined her own hair was a rat’s nest from the tear-soaked wash she managed in the shower last night, followed by sleeping on her curls half wet. But Iris? Iris was glowing in the morning sun that streamed through the windows, her hair a bright ruby, her eyes a seafoam green from the light. Long lashes blinked heavily, then opened fully when her eyes landed on Stevie.
“Hi,” Iris said, her voice adorably muzzy. “Did you sleep?”
“I did,” Stevie said. She tucked her hands together under her head, shifted her legs so they barely brushed Iris’s knees. “You?”
Iris nodded and yawned, but then her expression went serious, eyes searching Stevie’s. “I’m sorry about last night.”
Stevie shook her head. “It’s fine. I’m sorry I acted like a brat.”
“You didn’t.”
“I kind of did. And you were right. I was way too amped up to . . . learn anything.”
Iris smiled. “Yeah, I mean, what’s the point if all my extensive knowledge doesn’t really sink in, right?”
“Exactly.”
Stevie tracked Iris’s freckles across her face. She had one blue one, right under her eye.
“Tell me about this,” Iris said. Her fingertips brushed the tiny heart tattoo at Stevie’s throat, then retreated.
“Oh.” Stevie touched the spot too, though she couldn’t feel anything there after so many years. “Adri and I got it together.”
“I figured,” Iris said. “I noticed hers too.”
“We’d been dating for about a year. I’d always wanted one—a tattoo, I mean—but I was scared to get it on my own, because of course I was.”
Iris’s brows dipped a little, but she said nothing.
“Anyway, it was sort of spontaneous. We were out on the night of our anniversary and passed a tattoo shop. Adri suggested doing something together. I agreed. That’s it. Nothing too fancy or romantic, actually.”
Iris’s eyes slipped to the tattoo, then back to Stevie’s face again. “I think you’re a lot braver than you give yourself credit for.”
Stevie closed her eyes for a split second. “I’m not. But thank you for saying that.”
“Stevie. I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass here.”
Stevie gazed at her, that blue freckle like a little spark among all the brown. “I want that to be true. I’m trying.”
“You’re doing amazing, okay?”
Stevie nodded, her chest opening up at Iris’s words. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear that from someone until this moment. Still, it wasn’t enough to be trying. She had to do. If she didn’t, she’d stay stuck. She’d fall right back into Adri—all her ex had to do was ask. Stevie couldn’t believe how close she came last night to giving in to the feeling of it, of Adri and Stevie, the solid fact of being a part of a real couple. If it hadn’t been for Vanessa hovering at the edge of her mind, and Adri’s declaration that she loved Van, Stevie knew she wouldn’t be in this bed with Iris right now.
“I still want to keep practicing,” she said. “If that’s okay with you.”
Iris shifted, propping herself up on her elbow. “Are you sure? You did pretty great last time.”
Stevie’s cheeks grew warm, blood rushing to the surface, and she pointed at them. “Look at this. I can’t even think of being with someone like that without blushing.”
“Blushing isn’t a crime, Stevie. It’s actually pretty adorable.”
“To you, maybe. But you . . . we . . . this isn’t really happening. You and me. There’s no risk here, right?”
Iris swallowed. “Right.”
“When it’s really happening, I don’t want to fumble and shake and fight for breath. I don’t want to have to tell someone why I’m shaking and fighting for breath. God. I want to feel sexy. I want to be sexy. There’s nothing sexy about a panic attack.”
“Okay,” Iris said. “What do you want to do?”
Stevie laughed and turned onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. “Aren’t you the teacher?”
“Yeah. And I’m telling you, like I told you last time, to take control. That’s how you’re going to feel sexy. By owning it and doing it. So do it.”
Stevie glanced at her. “Now?”
“Now.”
They looked at each other for a second, Iris’s mouth parted just a little.
“You’re sure?” Stevie asked.
Iris smiled. “Once again, you have my enthusiastic consent.”
Stevie nodded, then worked herself out from under the covers and sat up on her knees. Took a few deep breaths. She gazed down at Iris, who was still propped up on her elbow, the sheet covering her body to her ribs.
“Lie back,” Stevie said.
Iris did as she was told, sinking against the pillows. Stevie let her settle for a moment—let herself settle, because her hands were already starting to shake. But then she closed her eyes and pictured it—taking control, just like Iris said. She formed the scene in her mind, exactly what she wanted to do to Iris, how she wanted to make her feel, and she didn’t slip into some other person.
She slipped into herself, Stevie Scott, but a Stevie Scott who did what she wanted. A Stevie who knew she could.