Her professor—her director—knew Stevie well, knew her disorder necessitated planning and practice, and Stevie had to admit that all of Thayer’s help went a long way to calming her constantly frantic heart.
Still, the days passed in a blur, her phone lighting up regularly with texts and emails from Ren and Thayer and Adri and her mother, the latter of whom was already planning Christmas in New York, ecstatic that Stevie was leaning into life.
But Iris never called.
Never texted.
Never emailed.
Stevie told herself she wouldn’t check Iris’s Instagram, an account with tens of thousands of followers due to Iris’s popular planners, but she couldn’t seem to stay away either. In the end, it didn’t matter, as the last picture Iris had posted was a selfie of Iris kissing Stevie’s cheek as they sat on the edge of the Empress’s stage after a show, the soft theater lights turning the whole shot golden.
It was dated two days before they’d broken up and had over ten thousand likes, the comments seemingly endless and effusive.
Cutest couple!
Omg wlw goals!
Where can I get a gal like Stevie?
Iris, your freckles are GORG!
You two are so in love it makes me sick! Except not lol!
Stevie had made a habit of staring at the picture late at night, then promising herself she’d never look at it again, only to cave again twenty-four hours later, scouring Iris’s expression for some hint of what was to come two days after snapping this photo.
But all she saw was her girlfriend, smiling mouth pressed to Stevie’s cheek, eyes scrunched up with happiness and contentment.
“Jesus, will you put that away?” Ren asked, coming up behind Stevie and leaning their arms on the back of the couch.
Stevie clicked her phone dark, Iris’s beautiful face disappearing. She sighed, took a sip of her club soda. Ren squeezed her shoulder and Stevie smiled up at them. She and Ren had made peace—after a complete blowout that involved Stevie totally losing her shit about Ren minding their own business, followed by a full forty-eight hours of the silent treatment, which was only broken when Ren showed up at Stevie’s place with curry from Stevie’s favorite Thai place and a huge Thai iced tea. Stevie knew Ren loved her, knew they were just looking out for her. Stevie knew she was an infamous chickenshit. Still, even though Stevie’s plan to tell Iris about New York was ill-conceived and backfired spectacularly, Ren had crossed a line by talking to Iris, and Stevie made sure they knew it.
“Come on, let’s get some air,” Ren said, tugging gently on Stevie’s arm.
Stevie acquiesced—it didn’t really matter if she brooded on the couch or on the balcony—and followed Ren outside. Adri and Vanessa were already out there, pressed together against the railing, Portland glittering behind them.
“Hey, you,” Van said, holding out her hand to Stevie. “How are you feeling?”
“Dizzy,” Stevie said, and laughed, but it was true.
Van nodded. “You’re going to be amazing. Adri and I are already planning our trip out to New York for opening night.”
Stevie smiled, glanced at Adri, who just tilted her head at Stevie, an unreadable expression on her face.
“I, for one, will be out there way before that,” Ren said. “I can totally write it off as a work trip.”
“You’re welcome anytime,” Stevie said, but then her throat went thick at the thought of being away from these three people. They’d been her best friends for ten years, walking with her through her anxiety, through her acting ups and downs. Through Adri herself. She and Adri may be complicated, but Stevie would always love her.
As she looked at her now, her green hair fading more and more into her natural dark brown, Stevie felt nothing but grateful. She reached out and squeezed Adri’s hand. In turn, Adri smiled sadly at her, then winked. It was such a small gesture, but it felt huge to Stevie’s heart.
A letting go.
An accepting.
She nodded, squeezed Adri’s hand one more time, then released her, turning to face the city she’d loved for so long. The air was cool, that September promise of fall, of sweaters and scarves and rain boots. Stevie breathed it in, tried to visualize herself on that airplane tomorrow morning, three full duffels checked and stowed underneath.
“I invited her,” Ren said, coming up next to her, shoulder pressing close. “Texted her the details.”
Stevie frowned. “Invited . . .”
“Iris, of course,” Ren said, rolling their eyes.
“Oh,” Stevie said, gazing back out at the city. “Right.”
“She didn’t respond. Not even to decline.”
Stevie nodded, then shrugged. She couldn’t imagine leaving Oregon without telling Iris goodbye. Then again, she supposed they’d said all there was to say two weeks ago.
“I’m sorry, Stevie,” Ren said, leaning their head on Stevie’s shoulder. “I know you liked her.”
Loved, Stevie’s brain supplied, but she shoved the word away. Love had nothing to do with her and Iris. Nothing at all. She breathed in her anger at Iris’s cowardice and denial of what they had, letting it push out the ache in her heart. Anger was easier. Anger was fire, cleansing and overpowering.
“It was fake,” Stevie said. She felt Ren’s attention, Adri and Vanessa’s, snap to her.
“What?” Ren said.
“Me and Iris,” Stevie said, taking a deep breath. “It was all fake. We did meet at Lush, but then . . . god, I won’t even go into the details about that night, but it didn’t go well. I let you all believe it had. And then she showed up at the Empress and . . . I don’t know.”
“You . . . made up your relationship?” Adri asked.
Stevie met her eyes, nodded.
“Why?” she asked.
“Fuck,” Ren said, shaking their head. “Adri, you know why.”
“Oh, Stevie,” Van said, her lovely face crumpling.
“Okay, stop,” Stevie said. “I didn’t do it only because of you two. And Ren, honestly, you didn’t help.”
“Me?” Ren asked.
“You. Look, I know you all love me. I do. But sometimes . . . you assume you know what’s best for me before even giving me the space to figure it out myself.”
Ren had the self-awareness to look away but said nothing.
“Iris agreed to go along with the whole thing to give me some space. Some time, I don’t know, to figure myself out without Adri and Van constantly feeling guilty about getting together and without Ren’s nagging me to move on. I needed time to be me.”
“Stevie,” Ren said. “I’m sorry.”
Stevie shook her head. “I get it. Really, I do. But I need you all to understand that just because I have an anxiety disorder, it doesn’t mean I don’t know how to take care of myself. I do need you. I need you all so much, but part of that need is you having a little fucking faith in me.”
They were all silent and Stevie turned back toward the city, letting her words sink in. Her heart was racing, but god it felt good to finally say it.
Adri broke the spell first. She reached out and took Stevie’s hand again. Stevie let her, because she knew everything she needed from Adri she’d already given to herself.