Stevie lifted her thumb and forefinger into a finger gun. “You know your girl.”
“I do,” Claire said. “All too well.”
“So I guess that’s that.”
Claire sniffed, eyes softly narrowed in thought. “You know, when you were dancing with Jenna last night, Iris was...”
Stevie’s heart nearly stopped. “Iris was what?”
Claire tapped her fingers on her mug. “I could tell she didn’t like it, I’ll just say that. She didn’t like it one bit.”
Stevie thought back to their night together. She figured Iris had just gone home, forgotten about Stevie and Jenna, and simply been caught up in a moment of lust when Stevie showed up at her apartment.
But then Stevie’s brain locked onto those illustrations—illustrations in complete dissonance with the way Iris refused to look at her while she picked up her room. Or even more, the way Irisdidlook at her—all smirk and flirt as she called herself an amazing screw.
An act.
A total show.
Stevie studied actors as part of her job. Dug into their performances, their methods, the way they created a persona, a character.
And Iris?
She was a fucking pro.
“Stevie,” Claire said. “Iris has been through it—with relationships, I mean.”
Stevie nodded. “I know.”
“Do you?”
“She told me about Jillian and Grant. People from high school and college.”
Claire blinked. “Iris doesn’t usually tell anyone those stories.”
“I’m not usual, Claire,” Stevie said, feeling suddenly as bold and brash as Iris herself. Plus, she was right. There was nothing usual about Stevie and Iris. Nothing at all.
Claire watched her for a second before seeming to come to some conclusion. “No, I don’t think you are. Does Iris know how you feel? Is that why she asked you to leave?”
Stevie laughed. “One doesn’t just tell Iris Kelly that they like her, do they?”
Claire’s mouth dropped open. “Wow, you sure do have her number.”
“I don’t,” Stevie said, swiping a hand through her messy curls. “I have no idea what the hell I’m doing.”
Claire’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Well, Iris is... yeah, she’s tough. Words are cheap to her. She’s heard it all, both good and bad, and that’s made her... skittish.”
“Skittish.”
“About love.”
“Yeah, I see that,” Stevie said. “So how do I convince her?”
Claire tilted her head, gaze spearing Stevie. “First, you make sure you want to. Don’t jerk her around, Stevie.”
“I’m not. I swear, I’m not. I...”
She couldn’t sayloveto Iris’s best friend. Iris deserved to be the first person who heard those words.
