They smiled at each other for a few seconds, and then Iris foundSerendipityand started the stream. She ripped open the bag of popcorn as John and Kate grabbed for the same glove during Christmastime in Bloomingdale’s, and Stevie had to scoot closer to get a handful.
“I love New York,” Iris said as the actors ice-skated through Central Park.
“Have you gone there a lot?” Stevie asked.
Iris shrugged. “A few times, with my friend Claire and her...” She took a deep breath. “Her fiancée. Wow. First time I’ve said that out loud.”
Stevie tilted her head. “Yeah?”
Iris nodded but her eyes went a little shiny and she waved a hand through the air. “Anyway, New York is... I don’t know. It’s the only place I’ve ever been that felt exactly like I expected it to, exactly like every story and movie and poem about it. Like magic and realism all twisted up together.”
“Wow,” Stevie said, smiling softly at Iris. “You are a writer.”
“Oh my god, shut up,” Iris said, but she smiled back. Still, a certain longing rose up in Stevie’s chest as New York unfolded on the screen before her. The city had always been mythical to her, a theatrical utopia, but unattainable, an ethereal monster capable of swallowing Stevie whole, no matter how much Ren believed that’s where Stevie was meant to be. Despite all that, Iris’s poetic—if brief—endorsement was enough to spark something in the center of Stevie’s chest.
But she’d gotten really good at ignoring those kinds of sparks over the years, so that’s exactly what she did now, taking in the movie, that spark itself, like she would a fantasy novel or film. It was breathtaking, beautiful, but at the end of the day, an impossibility.
“My best friend Astrid?” Iris said after a while, John running rampant through New York with Jeremy Piven, searching for clues and signs. “She and her girlfriend, Jordan, are pretty big on fate.” Then Iris told Stevie all about how Jordan drew a Two of Cups tarot card for months, and Astrid drew the same one after they’d sort of broken up.
“Astrid wooed her back with, like, twenty Two of Cups cards strewn all over the Everwood Inn.”
“God, that’s romantic,” Stevie said.
“True,” Iris said. “But not as romantic as getting puked on by a one-night stand and then fake dating them.”
Stevie laughed. “Jesus, what a story.” She wasn’t sure she’d ever think of that night without cringing, but at least it was becoming a sort of joke between them.
Iris tilted her head, eyes on Stevie. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” Stevie said slowly. That question hardly ever preceded an easy answer.
“Why were you so nervous to sleep with me? Was it your anxiety, or...”
Yep, yep, Stevie was right. Definitely not an easy answer. “Oh. Um... well...”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Iris said.
“No, it’s okay,” Stevie said. If they were going to do this fake dating thing, it was probably best if Iris knew exactly what she was getting herself into.
“I don’t do that a lot,” Stevie said. “Sleep with strangers. And by a lot, I mean ever.”
Iris’s brows lifted. “Like... never?”
Stevie shook her head. “Anxiety definitely has a lot to do with it, but it’s hard to tell if it’s from my disorder or if it’s just me, or what. It’s not always easy to separate myself from my illness, or to even understand if I should separate myself at all? Like, what is my personality and what is my anxiety? Or are they the same thing? It’s confusing sometimes.”
“It sounds like it,” Iris said softly.
“I’m on meds and they help, but I think I got a little too in my head the night we met.”
“Stefania didn’t see you through, huh?”
Stevie laughed, swiped a hand through her hair. “No. She only helps to a point. It’s probably good that you know all of this now though. I might be really horrible at evenpretendingto be having sex with someone.”
Iris frowned. “You’re an actress. Pretending is part of your job.”
“Yeah, but with acting, I have a script. That’s why I love it so much. No surprises. Even if I have to kiss someone on stage, I know when it’s coming. I know what I say and what my partner says right before it happens. I know exactly what to do and say afterward. It’s different than actual life.”
“You managed to kiss me on the night we met,” Iris said.
