“Hell no.”
“Iris. Jesus. You’re like the Scrooge of true love.”
“Bah humbug.”
“Scrooge caved in the end, you know. His heart grew three sizes or whatever.”
Iris laughed. “That’s the Grinch.”
“Potatoes, potahtoes,” Simon said, sliding his glasses down his nose so he could properly glare at her.
Iris sighed and motioned toward the writhing bodies on the dance floor. “This works for me, okay? I don’t want to complicate things.”
“And bythings, you mean your heart.”
She ignored that. “Fiona thinks I need to do something else to get some space from my book. Like a pottery class or some shit, I don’t know.”
“That’s actually solid advice.”
“I know. Which is exactly why I’m here.”
“So... random sex with a stranger is creative?”
“It is the way I do it,” Iris said.
Simon laughed, his cheeks going a bit red. “Anyway,” he said, nodding toward Shaggy Curls. “She’s cute. Go for it.”
Iris nodded and had just started to turn away when he grabbed her hand.
“One question,” he said, his tone soft, concerned, and Iris knew exactly what was coming.
“I’m fine,” she said.
He lifted his brows, hazel eyes doubtful from behind his glasses.
“I am,” she said. “I just... my mom tried to set me up again. With a health fanatic.”
“Yikes,” Simon said. “Is your mother aware of how many bags of salt and vinegar chips you consume a week?”
“Exactly,” she said. “Not exactly my type. And then...” She inhaled, steadied her voice. “My ex, Grant, is getting married, which is totally fine and I’m happy for him, but my family... well, they just... they’re...”
“They’re being assholes about it,” he said.
She nodded. “They really loved Grant.”
He squeezed her shoulder and she leaned into him for a second.
“Hence,” she said, straightening up and nodding toward the woman, who was talking to an Asian person in a flawless gray suit and heels Iris had to remember to tell Astrid about. “I just need to let off a little steam.”
“Okay,” Simon said. “Understandable. But you know there are other ways, right? Ice cream? Watching rom-coms? A manicure?”
Iris laughed. “I’ll do all of that tomorrow.”
Simon nodded, but his brow remained creased. Iris knew her friends would never slut shame her—her choice to limit her romantic life to casual hookups was her own and they respected it—but lately, she got the distinct feeling that they agreed with her mother. Just a little. None of them ever said that they wanted to see Iris settled like they were. It was just a vibe she got, but it always made her want tofuck the next willing person she came across. If she was being honest.
She didn’t need to be settled to be happy.Sometimes, happiness meant the opposite of settled. Sometimes, happiness meant a cute, curly-haired person in a crop top whose name Iris was completely okay never knowing.
“You good?” she asked Simon.
