Iris nodded, then looked around for her sweater. She found it by the couch, slipped it on, and hoisted her bag over her shoulder. “Well. Good night. I hope you feel better.”
Stevie offered a weak wave. She wanted to explain—because what if, after all of this, Iris was worried about catching some horrible bug from Stevie—but she couldn’t seem to get any words to form. Her head was fuzzy, her tongue a useless lump in her mouth.
It didn’t matter anyway. Iris barely waited for a response, turning quickly and finding her shoes by the front door. She didn’t even slow down to put them on. She simply slipped out the door, clicking it softly shut behind her.
Stevie stared at the ceiling, hoping, as she laid in bed, that she’d realize this whole shitshow of a night was a dream. The music she’d put on to calm her down still played through her phone, so she grabbed it off her nightstand and silenced the sultry tones. She was just about to toss her device on the floor when it buzzed with a text.
It was from Ren, sent to their group chat that included Adri and Vanessa. A group chat that had been pretty quiet lately.
Stevie tapped on the message. It took her a few seconds to realize that she was looking at a photo of herself and Iris, dancing at Lush in a way that could’ve been a deleted scene from a queer version ofDirty Dancing.
Ren:Stevie and Ren, on the fucking town. Look at our girl go!
“Oh my god,” Stevie said.
Ren sent a few other pics—one of themself with the curvy brunette, followed by a line of empty shot glasses on the bar.
But Stevie knew what Ren was doing.
They wanted Adri and Vanessa to see Stevie with someone else. That was the whole goal of tonight anyway—someone different, someone new. The other photos were simply a cover, so it all seemed less pointed and more casual.
And it worked.
Because a split second later, Adri texted back. And she didn’t say anything about Ren’s zaftig or the copious amount of alcohol.
Adri:Wow, Stevie, she’s gorgeous
Vanessa:Way to go, Stevie
Adri:What’s her name?
“Shit, shit, shit,” Stevie said, dropping her face into her hands. She couldn’t answer. She could barely even think about Iris’s name right now.
Her phone buzzed again, and this time, Ren had texted only her.
Ren:You fucking badass you
Ren:Also you’d better be engaging in some truly scandalous sex acts right now
Stevie turned off her phone, pulled the covers over her head, and hoped to god or whoever that the end of the world was nigh.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“SO?” SIMON SAIDas he and Iris settled at a table on the Everwood Inn’s patio. The trees surrounding the property blazed green in the summer sun. “How was it?”
Iris huffed a laugh and took a long sip from the ice water already set out at their table, chewing on the end of her biodegradable rainbow straw the inn was using for Pride month. “I’m going to need to be very drunk to talk about that.”
Simon winced. “Bad? She looked so nice.”
“Oh, she was,” Iris said. “Nice and sweet and grateful, especially when I was cleaning up her puke.”
Simon’s eyes went wide. “What.”
“You heard me.” Iris shuddered at the memory.
“Wait, wait, wait,” he said, waving his hands and leaning forward in his wrought iron chair. “She threw up?”
Iris nodded. “Indeed. One look at me in my bra and up it came.”
