Page 34 of Iris Kelly Doesn't Date

Adri’s eyes went soft, her smile small and a little sad. “You still remember it?”

Stevie didn’t answer at first. Of course she fucking remembered it. Spicy tuna. Philly roll, but with avocado added and fresh salmon instead of smoked. Steamed gyoza. Six months couldn’t erase six years, no matter how much Adri sometimes made Stevie feel like it could.

Stevie nodded, clearing her throat as she dug into her bag for her phone. “Okay, I’ll be back,” she said after she put the order in at their favorite place, then started heading up the aisle.

“Stevie,” Adri said, grabbing her hand as she passed.

Stevie froze, her breath locked in her chest. Before she could stop herself, her eyes went to a tiny tattoo at the base of Adri’s throat—a solid black heart, inked five years ago. Stevie had a matching one just like it, an ill-conceived romantic gesture on their one-year anniversary she couldn’t bring herself to get removed.

She didn’t want Adri back. She knew she didn’t. Toward the end, they were practically roommates—no kissing, no sex, just quiet nights and sleeping back-to-back.

But.

She missed being someone’s.

She loved belonging to one person. Always had, ever since she and her middle school friends sneaked their mothers’ romance novels, reading them under the covers at sleepovers and giggling over the sexy bits. But Stevie had always loved the final declarations even more. When one person—usually a man, because heteronormativity—would confess that he couldn’t live without the other person. He couldn’t even breathe. That single-minded devotion always sent her heart racing. That union that felt both impossible and inevitable.

Six months single, Stevie still wasn’t quite sure who she was on her own, which scared the shit out of her.

“Thank you,” Adri said softly, squeezing her hand. “For doing this with me. I know the Empress isn’t your first choice.”

Stevie didn’t know how to respond to that, so she said nothing. She simply squeezed Adri’s hand back and let her go.

CHAPTER NINE

THE EMPRESS WASa tiny building between a laundromat and a cheap fortune-telling parlor. The brick facade sported a small marquee announcing the upcomingMuch Adoproduction in rainbow ombre letters, though theowas crooked and fluttered a bit in the morning breeze. The glass ticket box, while a bit smudged and in need of cleaning, was encased in maple-colored wood and topped with vintage brass embellishments.

“It’s charming,” Iris said. She’d never been here before, but the more she thought about participating in an all-queer Shakespearean romp, the more she warmed to the idea.

“Isn’t it?” Simon said, grinning and opening the door for her.

Inside, the lobby was small and modern, but with vintage touches here and there that Iris loved. The floor was poured cement, the walls exposed brick, the crown molding a deep purple. Swaths of rainbow silks layered the walls here and there, along with framed black-and-white photographs of previous plays. The lighting was soft and honeyed, adding a homey feel to the entire space. Despitethis ambience, there was evidence of shabbiness everywhere, worn carpets and fraying curtains.

“Hi there!” A Latinx person in a lacy black blouse and black jeans sat behind a table near the closed theater doors. She was tapping away on a silver laptop, eyes shifting to Simon and Iris every other word. “Here for auditions?”

“Uh,” Simon said, mouth practically hanging wide open as he stared at the woman.

Iris rolled her eyes. Queer as he may be, Simon was such a doofus sometimes when it came to talking to beautiful women. And there was no denying this woman was drop-dead gorgeous.

“Yes,” Iris said, looping her arm through Simon’s and giving him a yank. “Company.”

“Great, great,” the woman said, unearthing a clipboard from under a pile of books. “Our assistant director, Julian, is handling the company auditions in the back hall.” She looked up at them and handed over the clipboard. “If you could just—”

The woman blinked, her eyes locked on Iris.

Iris blinked back. Glanced at Simon.

“You’re her,” the woman said.

“I am?” Iris asked.

The woman’s smile grew so wide, Iris couldn’t help but smile back. Jesus, her teeth were pristine.

“Yes!” the woman said. “You’re Iris, right?”

“Um, wow, I...”

“I’m Vanessa.” She reached out to shake Iris’s hand. “I’m so excited to meet you. Does she know you’re coming?”