Page 115 of Iris Kelly Doesn't Date

“A-plus on the romance,” she said, her words a little shaky as they ascended higher into the sky.

“Oh, I’m just getting started,” Stevie whispered, her breath tickling Iris’s ear.

Iris shivered, shook it off. “You’re not proposing, are you?”

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Iris turned to look at her, that simple declaration nearly knocking the wind out of her, like shesawIris and what she saw was... okay. It was great, even. Suddenly, her joke felt all too real, as did Stevie’s response, and she wasn’t sure what to say.

“But I am going to ask you to dance,” Stevie said.

Iris blinked. “What?”

“Well, we’ve danced in your living room. In the rain on the beach. If this is Tegan and Briony’s quirky romantic thing, I think dancing while in a hot-air balloon is the next logical step.”

“Upping your game, are we?”

“Absolutely.”

Iris laughed and turned in Stevie’s arms, her hands coming to rest on her shoulders, Stevie’s own fingers curling around Iris’s waist.

“Okay,” Iris said. “I accept.”

Stevie smiled, then pulled Iris even closer, her cheek pressing against Iris’s head. They swayed in the air, staying close to the edge so they could see the Willamette Valley spread out below them. Iris tried to imagine how she could work this into her book, but shecouldn’t hold on to a single thought. She was full of other things—the way Stevie’s hair smelled like grass and summer, the feel of her fingers trailing up and down Iris’s back.

The way Iris’s heart suddenly felt huge, too big for her own chest, sending blood rushing to her head and making her a little dizzy.

“Can I ask you something?” Stevie asked as she twirled them in a small circle.

“Sure,” Iris said.

“Why did you kiss me? When I came over tonight?”

Iris swallowed, unsure of how to respond. Finally, she settled on the truth. “I don’t know.”

Stevie pulled her tighter and Iris suddenly felt like crying. She couldn’t explain it. She’d spent the better part of fourteen months running from this exact feeling, making sure she never got this far into her emotions, yet here she was, dancing with a woman who’d puked on her during a hookup, her heart lodged in her throat. She both hated and loved it, this romance, this feeling like she was falling, only to have Stevie reach out and catch her.

It was ridiculous.

It wasn’t real. Couldn’t be.

But fuck, it felt so, so good.

She could at least admit that—romance wasnice, and Stevie was a goddamn expert.

So she let herself feel it, all of it, the falling and catching and comfort, pushing away the panic she knew would catch up to her sooner or later.

For now, she simply closed her eyes and danced, floating through a golden sky.

AFTER THE BALLOONride, Stevie and Iris drove back to Bright Falls and ate at Moonpies, gorging on veggie burgers and fries and,of course, homemade moon pies in various flavors. They talked about growing up in small towns and coming out and college and all the stories Iris wanted to write, all the plays Stevie had done.

“What was the worst performance you ever had?” Iris asked, pushing the remnants of her strawberry shortcake moon pie around on her plate.

Stevie looked affronted. “Worst? What makes you think I’ve ever had one of those?”

“Okay now, I see my confidence lessons have gone a step too far,” Iris said. “I’ll have to reevaluate my curriculum.”

Stevie laughed, popped a fry into her mouth. “I’ve had plenty of horrible performances. Worst? Probably the first play I ever did at Reed. I was so nervous—our director was amazing, really demanding—so Ren, in their infinite wisdom, gave me a weed gummy about half an hour before curtain.”