Page 63 of Iris Kelly Doesn't Date

As she stopped in front of her building and paused on the front step, she flashed back to all those purportedly romantic times with Grant, the times he wanted to look her right in the eyes when she came, and she could never go through with it. She tried, but right as the orgasm rushed through her, she’d always snap her eyes shut.

She’d crack jokes during the twilight river walk.

She’d make a game out of what other couples were talking about during the fancy romantic dinner.

She simply wasn’t built for that kind of romance, no matter how badly she might’ve wanted it in the past, so she wasn’t exactly sure how these lessons were going to go.

Climbing the steps to her unit, she focused on Stevie and how she could help her, running through what sort of things they could do that Stevie would be comfortable with. She’d only made it to kissing—which they’d already done—when she swung open her door and gasped.

The place was aglow.

Tiny flames flickered everywhere. Iris had always loved candles. Bought them every time she took a trip to the flea market in Sotheby, but she usually only lit one or two at a time. Now, every single candle she owned was aflame and spread out through the living room. The twinkle lights snaking around her curtain rod were on as well, turning the whole room amber and gold.

“Wow,” she said. Soft music—something modern, yet instrumental—filtered out of Iris’s Bluetooth speaker.

“Yeah?” Stevie asked. She stood up from the couch where she’d been looking at something on her phone. “What do you think?”

“I think...” Iris set the food on the counter. “Wow.”

Stevie smiled. “You already said that.”

Iris just nodded, her stomach fluttering.

Actualfluttering.

She couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. When she made this whole arrangement with Stevie back at the Empress, she hadn’t fully envisioned what romance might entail. She pictured outings. Dates. That was it. Walking hand in hand through the park.

Not... this.

“You okay?” Stevie asked.

Iris nodded. She could do this. Shehadto do this. She’d become pretty fucking jaded if a few candles freaked her out this much, and her novel’s deadline loomed like a gathering storm.

“How do we start?” Iris asked, because hell if she knew. She thought about tacking some new cheesy term of endearment onto her question—lovebugormy little cinnamon stick—but suddenly, her romance jokes didn’t feel very... well, jokey.

Stevie, however, just nodded and set her phone down. “You don’t want to eat first?”

“And kiss you with veggie burger breath? I’ll pass.”

Stevie laughed, but she clutched at her stomach a little, which Iris recognized now as something she did when she was nervous. Well, good. At least Iris wasn’t alone in that.

“In that case, I think we should dance first,” Stevie said.

“Dance.”

Stevie nodded. Iris didn’t move. The current song was slow and languid, nothing like the fast beat they’d first essentially dry humped to at Lush.

Dry humping, Iris could do.

This?

Not so sure.

She inhaled slowly then stood stock-still until Stevie came overand took her hand, leading her over to the more open space between the coffee table and the TV.

“Okay, imagine we’ve just been out on the town,” Stevie said, wrapping one arm around Iris’s waist. “We met at... I don’t know. What’s a rom-com type meet-cute?”

“A wine tasting,” Iris said as Stevie set one of Iris’s hands on her shoulder. “I’m a vintner. You’re a wine critic.”