Page 95 of Iris Kelly Doesn't Date

Stevie shook her head and tucked the folder under her arm. “Nothing. It’s nothing at all.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

IRIS PUSHED OPENStella’s giant oak door, scents of beer and sweat and perfume swirling around her as she and Stevie stepped inside.

Stella’s was packed for its monthly line dancing night, but then again, it always was. A favorite among the small queer community in Bright Falls, the crowd was even more robust tonight, as the bar was one of the few businesses in town that actually decorated for Pride. Rainbow flags fluttered all around the large room, and the menu boasted special cocktails to represent the Pride flag, everything from mojitos for green and a color-changing martini for purple to something called Adios, Motherfucker, which was pretty much a blue Long Island iced tea.

“Iris!” Claire called from the back corner, standing up and waving. She had on a plaid flannel shirt tied at her waist and light blue denim cutoffs. “Over here!”

Iris slipped her hand into Stevie’s and led her toward her friends. It was slow going, the press of bodies thick, and Iris took her time to smile at acquaintances and get herself in check.

She and Stevie hadn’t talked much since their kiss at theEmpress. They’d finished rehearsal—Adri had been in a particularly foul mood—and then Iris had pretty much run out of the theater and to her car, a quickI’ll see you tonighther only goodbye.

When Stevie had arrived at Iris’s apartment that evening, they’d only discussed how the flannel shirt Stevie had paired with a vintage Nirvana tee, black cutoffs, and black combat boots was the closest thing she had to anything country western. Iris had offered a cowboy hat to complete the ensemble and... well...

Stevie looked adorable.

Sexy, if Iris were letting herself think about the word, which she wasn’t, because tonight was all about helping Stevie find someone to... well.

Iris took a deep breath, trying to smooth out the undulations in her stomach. Before they’d left Iris’s, she’d thought about bringing up Stevie’s panic attack at the Empress, what had put her in such a state. Iris was worried, sure, but she was also terrified that conversation would lead to what happened after, the kiss that still made Iris’s knees feel weak when she thought about it.

The kiss that had nothing to do with putting on a show for Stevie’s friends or practicing anything.

It was real.

Or was it?

Iris’s brain couldn’t make sense of it, couldn’t figure out what she even felt about it. Stevie had been upset and Iris helped. Sure, they were attracted to each other. Of course they were. And of course, with all this time they spent together, they were getting to know each other better.

Care about each other.

Wasn’t that to be expected? It didn’tmeananything. Iris cared about a lot of people.

“Almost there,” Iris said now as she looked over her shoulder at Stevie. Stevie smiled back at her, the straw-colored cowboy hat Irishad given her tilted over one eye, her shaggy curls coiling just over her shoulders.

Fuck, she looked cute.

Iris tipped her own dark brown hat at her—maybemoredrama would simmer down her blood a bit. Hell, it had always worked in the past.

Iris is acting a bit emotional, oh shit, what do we do?

Iris always knew—more laughter, more jokes, moreIris. That was what everyone expected from her. Even Stevie, who laughed and shook her head, a beautiful blush creeping onto her creamy cheeks.

Iris squeezed her hand and broke through the crowd to where her friends were already a drink into the night.

“You both look amazing!” Claire said, reaching out for Iris and kissing her on the cheek.

“I know,” Iris said, releasing Stevie and doing a little twirl, showing off her short, lace-ruffled skirt with the denim waist paired with a pair of authentic red cowboy boots and a red bandanna-patterned crop top.

“Don’t give her another compliment, I beg you,” Delilah said. She was lounging in the corner of the booth, dressed in her quintessential goth colors—a dark burgundy tank and black jeans.

“Shut it, Morticia,” Iris said, flipping her off, but Delilah just smiled, tipping her bourbon in Iris’s direction. Iris blew her a kiss.

“Stevie, good to see you,” said Astrid, who was dressed in a vanilla-white tank and dark jeans, but at least she had on a cowboy hat.

“Hey,” Stevie said. “Nice to see you all again.”

“How’s the play going?” Jordan asked. She had on a button-up with tiny green cacti printed all over it, one hand on the back of Astrid’s neck, fingers playing in her hair.