“What I want as a director,” Adri said, her voice bordering on deadly, “is for my actors to take my notes and shut the fuck up about it.”
Silence fell on the group. Iris stared Adri down, her chest swelling with a strange sense of accomplishment. She was right about Beatrice—she knew she was—but suddenly, she was very aware that Beatrice’s emotional state in this scene had very little to do with why Iris had decided to go toe-to-toe with Adri.
“Well, here’s what I want,” Iris said, but before she could go any further, Stevie stood up so quickly, waves undulated through the pool as she whipped her legs free.
“I think we could all use a break, yeah?” she said, her eyes widening on Iris.
“Good idea,” Ren said. They were sitting under the umbrella at the patio table, working on a laptop. They barely even broke their stride tapping at the keys as they spoke. “I’ll make sure Adri gets a drink.”
“I don’t drink while I work,” Adri said. She hadn’t moved from her chair, her eyes still locked on Iris.
“Maybe you should,” Iris said, fully aware that she was pushing her luck here. Next thing she knew, she’d be out on her ass with this play, but she couldn’t seem to keep her mouth shut.
“Iris,” Stevie said, appearing next to her. She slotted their fingers together. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“Drama, drama, drama,” Peter said as Iris let Stevie lead her away.
“We knew it would be with those two,” Nina said, chin-nodding toward Adri.
“I fucking love it,” Zayn said.
“Will you all shut up?” Stevie said, pulling Iris toward the stairs that led to the beach. Her tone held no vitriol though—more like a sister fussing at her siblings.
She kept moving too, walking fast until she and Iris hit the rocky beach. Iris’s bare feet sank into the sand, and she let Stevie yank her toward the water at nearly a running pace.
“Okay, slow down,” Iris said once they’d reached the waves.
“Sorry,” Stevie said, doing as Iris asked. They started walking north, their fingers still tangled together.
Iris sighed, looking back over her shoulder at the house. Adri stood at the stairs now, watching them, her green hair blowing in the wind.
“Does she want to get back together with you?” Iris asked. “Is that what this is all about?”
Stevie sighed. “What do you mean this? You started that argument.”
“I simply voiced my artistic opinion.”
Stevie snorted.
“Okay,” Iris said. “Fine. I wanted to get under her skin. Doesn’t mean I’m not right about Beatrice.”
Stevie glanced at her. “No, I think you’re right. But that’s not the point. Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why get under her skin?”
Iris sniffed and looked out at the water. It was a dull gray today, the clouds overhead growing thicker and darker by the minute. The wind picked up, ruffling her clothes and pulling strands of hair from her braid.
“I don’t know,” Iris said, even though she did. The more she thought about that whole scene last night, the more it bothered her. Adri’s bullying, the room switch, how upset Stevie had been when she’d come back from the beach. She didn’t like the way Adri treated Stevie, plain and simple, but neither did she want Stevie to feel like she needed Iris to do anything about it.
“Really?” Stevie stopped, turned to face her. “Because you’re acting like a jealous girlfriend.”
Iris smirked. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be?”
Stevie just stared at her for a moment, arms folded, her eyes like shovels trying to dig underneath Iris’s cool expression.
“What?” Iris asked, starting to squirm. She’d lose in a staring contest against Stevie, every single time.
“Why don’t you actually date, Iris?” Stevie asked softly.
“What? That was out of left field.”
Stevie’s gaze stayed with her. “I’m just curious. I know you write romance and you’re a middle child and your friends love you a lot, but I don’t know anything else about you. Not really. I’m just trying to understand.”
Iris’s heart sped up, a too-tender nudging under her ribs. “Why? It’s not like we’re—”
“Real, god, I know.” Stevie lifted her arms, then let them slap against her side. “But a lot about this is real. My life. This play. Your book. Adri and me. You and me affect real shit, Iris, whether you want to admit it or not. And I just . . . I want to understand why you’re picking fights with my ex and why you’re even here with me at all. Why aren’t you with someone else?”
Iris’s clenched her jaw, looked away. It wasn’t like her friends hadn’t asked her this very question multiple times in the past year. Why don’t you try dating, Iris? You’re so amazing, Iris. Anyone would be lucky to have you, Iris. It’s their loss, Iris.
But was it? When every romantic step Iris had ever taken left her alone and wondering what the hell she did wrong? Why she couldn’t be different?
“Are you aromantic?” Stevie asked. “It’s great if you are, I just want to—”
“No,” Iris said. That would be so easy, wouldn’t it? Especially with Stevie, who barely knew her, but no way in hell was she going to co-opt someone’s actual identity. And she knew that wasn’t it. “I like romance, okay? I’m interested in it. I just . . .”
Stevie waited, her eyes all soft and patient.
“I really wish you wouldn’t look at me like that,” Iris said.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m some sad sack because I’ve made a logical decision.”
“Logical . . . decision,” Stevie said slowly.
Iris nodded. “Look, I’m not going to get into my sad romantic history again. You already know about Jillian and Grant.”
Stevie frowned. “So one asshole and a guy who really loved you but wanted different things means . . . what?”
“It’s not just them, okay?” Iris said.
Her throat went a little thick, but she swallowed hard, kept talking. If she said just enough, Stevie would get it. She’d understand, agree with Iris even, and they could move the fuck on.
“It’s my whole goddamn life,” she said. “It’s my blissfully-in-love parents constantly telling me to get serious, my mother’s setups because she knows I can’t be trusted to find someone decent on my own. It’s every guy in high school making me feel like a toy to be passed around the soccer team. And I let them do it, because yeah, even back then, I liked sex, okay? Sue me.”
“Iris, I—”
“And then, once I came out as bi in college?” Iris plowed ahead, eyes stinging. “Suddenly the fact that I liked sex became a huge moral failing. I was greedy. And, Jesus, the threesome requests. Not jokes, mind you, actual requests from guys who approached me in the student center, in the gym, in the middle of a fucking lecture hall, like I was nothing more than a business opportunity. And don’t you dare tell me everyone who’s bisexual deals with that—my best friend, Claire, came out in high school and never once got propositioned. Not once. And why? Because she’s sweet. She’s relationship material. I’m not serious, Stevie. I’m just the girl you fuck.”