Page 117 of Iris Kelly Doesn't Date

For the last two weeks, she had gone on more “dates” with Stevie than Grant had taken her on the entire last year they were together.

They went to dinner in Portland.

They went to brunch in Bright Falls.

They went to a winery in the Willamette Valley, a day trip that ended with Iris so sloshed, she didn’t even remember how she ended up tucked into her bed.

They played boozy mini-golf at Birdie’s with her friends.

They took a hike through Lower Macleay Park to the Pittock Mansion, Stevie’s legs completely covered in bug bites by the time they reached their destination.

Most recently, Stevie had shown up at Iris’s apartment at ten o’clock at night, blankets and pillows in her hands, so they could watch a lunar eclipse from the roof of Iris’s building.

And after each and every date, Stevie kissed Iris on the mouth and said good night.

That was it.

She never even tried to slide into second base, much less cop a feel below the waist. By mid-July, just two weeks beforeMuch Adoopened at the Empress, Iris was ready to pull every single hair out of her body. She had more than enough content for her book, her progress with her cranky vintner and cinnamon roll wine critic inching toward the last act at this point. Still, Stevie kept asking her out, kept driving her crazy with slow dances in the middle of the forest and on hole eighteen.

And Iris, inexplicably, kept saying yes.

“Winner!” a man cried from inside a lit booth, plucking a plush purple frog from the row of stuffed animals and handing it to Stevie.

They were at the Bright Falls Summer Fair, an annual event that included a fluorescent Ferris wheel and a rickety Tilt-A-Whirl, games and cotton candy and corn dogs, vendors selling local honey and handmade jewelry and art out of cloth-draped booths.

“For you,” Stevie said, presenting the frog to Iris. She’d just looped three rings in a row around old 7-Up bottles, winning Iris the prize.

“Forever grateful,” Iris deadpanned, taking the frog. “What should I name her?”

“Peppa.”

“I think that’s a pig.”

“Okay, Wilbur.”

Iris laughed. “She’s a frog.”

Stevie laced their fingers together, kissed Iris on the back of the hand. “Says who? Her identity is her own.”

Iris smiled and stuffed the frog under her arm. They walked along the crowd, people waving at Iris every so often, and a silence fell over them that caused Iris’s heart rate to pick up.

This had been happening a lot lately, the closer they got toMuch Ado’s opening night. The play would run for the month of August, and then...

Her deal with Stevie would be done.

They’d have no reason to keep up their charade, and Iris didn’t think she could take many more of these dates anyway. They were fun, sure, but they were also confusing, leaving Iris scribbling out each encounter on her iPad late into the night, analyzing every word the next day, tormenting herself over why Stevie didn’t seem to want to sleep with her again.

She knew she had to bring up their inevitable end. They had no exit strategy so far, no plan for how they’d break up their fake relationship for Stevie’s friends and the play’s cast and crew. She knew Stevie always did better with a plan, even if the idea of everything just stopping made Iris uncomfortable in a way she couldn’t explain.

“Hey, you two!” Claire called from River Wild’s booth. She and Ruby were working, selling the summer’s hottest reads for the store. Delilah was around here somewhere, taking photos for a National Geographic project she was working on—a book about liberal small towns—and Astrid and Jordan were both working at the Everwood Inn tonight, as they were fully booked with visitors for the fair.

“Hey,” Iris said, pulling her hand away from Stevie’s and kissing Claire and then Ruby on the cheek. “Selling a lot?”

“Oh, yeah, summer romances,” Claire said holding up a yellow paperback. “This one’s about fake dating and a bisexual disaster. Selling like hot cakes.” Here she winked at Stevie, a move she didn’t even try to hide from Iris, and Stevie cleared her throat, making a pretty huge show of inspecting a book on the flora and fauna of Central Oregon.

“Okay,” Iris said. “What am I missing?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Claire said, waving a hand.