Page 75 of Iris Kelly Doesn't Date

Adri, of course, was undeterred by Stevie’s silence. She settled next to her, and Stevie was momentarily overwhelmed by familiarity—Adri’s rosewater scent, the familiar way a sigh slipped from her throat.

The way she pressed her shoulder into Stevie’s. That touch was like a fingerprint—she’d know Adri blindfolded.

“I’m sorry,” Adri said.

“Are you?” Stevie asked, still not looking at her. Ocean. Water. Waves.

“Yeah. I am.”

“For what exactly?”

Adri didn’t answer for a while, but it was a fair question. She wrapped her arms around her knees, leaned forward a little, and the wind whipped her hair into the sky, the fading light turning the color a dark green.

“For being an ass to Iris?” Adri finally said.

“Is that a question? Because you were definitely an ass to Iris. Have been, actually, since the audition.”

Adri nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry for being an ass to Iris.”

“Okay. That’s a start.”

Adri sighed and shook her head. “Look, I guess I wasn’t exactly prepared for this.”

“You offered her the role. You knew she would be here.”

“Not Irishere. Iris and you.”

Stevie felt the words like a shove to the chest. She must’ve heard wrong. Adri was with Vanessa. Vanessa, who was sweet and smart and beautiful and not a fucking mess all the time. Adri was the one who started the entire conversation that led to her and Stevie’s breakup, brought it up in bed one night back in January, after they’d already brushed their teeth and turned out the lights and said good night.

I think we should talk about breaking up.

That’s what Adri said, her exact words, and Stevie had felt them like a bomb finally detonating, a bomb she’d been watching falling from the sky for months. Of course Stevie had agreed—she always agreed with Adri, with everyone—and once your partner sayssomething like that, something so final and shattering, there was no going back anyway.

So they’d broken up.

And Stevie had been lost for months, wondering if she’d ever have had the courage to end things if Adri hadn’t spoken up first, which had brought on a spiral of self-pity and hatred that pretty much locked Stevie into place until very recently.

She knew she and Adri didn’t have what she wanted, didn’t have what Adri wanted either, but she also craved familiarity.

Safety.

And she and Adri had been so, so safe. Even now, that safety was like a clear eye in a hurricane—wide open and calm. No one-night stands, no nervous puking, no lessons.

No wild redhead who made Stevie—

She squeezed her eyes shut, stopping the thought. This wasn’t about Iris. Not at its core. Couldn’t be. She and Iris weren’t even real.

“You wanted this,” Stevie finally said. “You’re the one who put this whole thing into motion. You’re with Van. You’relivingwith Van.”

“I know,” Adri said. “And I... I’m not saying that I... fuck.” She rubbed her forehead, sent her fingers through her wavy hair.

“What? You’re not saying what?”

Adri dropped her hands. “I’m not saying I want to get back together, okay?”

Stevie shook her head. “This conversation is making me feel like shit, Adri.”

“I’m sorry. Dammit.” Adri turned so she was facing Stevie, took one of her hands in hers. “I don’t mean to do that. Really. I just... look, we were together a long time. That doesn’t just go away, does it?”