Stevie laughed too but then froze, her mouth hanging wide open as an idea bloomed into her brain.
“What?” Iris asked.
Stevie snapped her mouth shut. “Nothing.”
“That was not a look that meant nothing.”
Stevie shook her head, her face as warm as an Alabama summer. “I just... well... um...” God, she couldn’t say it. Couldn’t ask it in a million years.
“Out with it,” Iris said. “I can tell you want to say it, so take a deep breath and do it.”
Stevie couldn’t help but smile at the firm yet gentle way Iris commanded her. Very... teacher-like.
“You’re sort of making my point here,” she said.
“The point you haven’t said out loud yet?” Iris asked, folding her arms.
“Yeah, that one.” Stevie tucked her frizzing hair behind her ear. “Okay, what if... you helped me?”
Iris canted her head. “Helped you with what?”
Stevie’s mouth worked, trying to get the words out. How do you saysexy stuffwithout saying, well,sexy stuff? Still, if she was really asking for this—if by some chance Iris saidyes—she’d be doing a lot more than just saying the words.
Oh god.
This was a preposterous idea.
Her stomach lurched into her throat, and she swallowed hard. Shewantedto be more confident. Shewantedto hook up with someone, even just kiss someone, without throwing up. Her anxiety was what it was. It would always factor into everything she did. But behavioral therapy was a big part of her treatment. Her therapist, Keisha, was always giving her little challenges to help her feel more comfortable—go to a movie by herself, take a class to learn something she felt incompetent at, take a trusted friend to a bar and ask someone out.
And she’d done it. She’d met Iris, even kissed Iris, but clearly, she needed more practice beyond that first interaction. She needed to take it to the next level.
“Hey,” Iris said, nudging her knee. “Help with—”
“Sexy stuff,” Stevie blurted out before she could talk herself out of it.
Iris’s eyes rounded. “Stevie,Ido not have a sex lessons kink.”
“No, yeah, I know, but hear me out.” Stevie shifted so she was sitting on her knees, then grabbed the remote and paused John and Kate’s snowy Central Park reunion. She started ticking off on her fingers, adrenaline pushing her forward. “We’ve already kissed.”
“True. Best kiss of your life.”
Stevie fought a laugh and kept going. “You’ve already seen my... my... you know.” She waved her hand around her chest.
“God, Stevie, you can’t even say boobs.”
“I can so.”
“Then say it.” Iris pursed her mouth in challenge.
“What are we, middle schoolers?”
“Boobs, boobs, boobs,” Iris chanted.
Stevie laughed. “Okay, fine, boobs, there, I said it.”
“Now say tits.”
Stevie groaned. “Why?”
