Stevie nodded, laughing, even as a tear slipped down her cheek. Iris couldn’t resist swiping it way with her thumb, then pressing her forehead to Stevie’s. It was an intimate gesture, but it felt so natural, so . . . easy. Stevie gripped Iris’s waist, rubbing the jumpsuit’s material between her fingers, and Iris felt herself relax. She breathed Stevie in, all clean cotton and sea salt, and her eyes had just drifted closed when Stevie lifted her head away.
“You’re really good at this,” Stevie said.
Iris frowned. “At what?”
“At being a fake girlfriend.”
Stevie’s voice was soft, almost like a question. Her eyes searched Iris’s, and Iris searched right back because for a split second there, she’d forgotten.
Maybe she’d been forgetting for a while now.
Her throat went a little tight, her breath suddenly elusive. All the reasons she stopped Stevie this morning in bed came rushing back at her, clearer than ever, and every single one was terrifying.
Every single one represented everything that Iris Kelly was not.
She shook her head and laughed, dropped Stevie’s hands and did a little twirl, followed by a dramatic bow. This was the Iris she knew. This was the Iris she understood.
The Iris everyone understood.
“Well, I am a fucking great actress,” she said, “as you’re about to find out in full.”
Stevie didn’t laugh. She just offered a half smile and nodded, then took Iris’s hand and led her outside to join the rest of the cast.
AS IT TURNED out, Iris loved acting.
The cast sat around the pool under the morning clouds, bare legs dipping into the water, Adri tucked into a chair with her iPad, and they made a wild and unlikely love story come alive. Iris felt drunk with the feeling of slipping into someone else’s psyche, thinking through their motivations and emotions. It was like writing, but in full color, swelling with all the flavors and sounds and feelings of real life.
The rest of the cast was talented as hell—Iris could see why Adri had cast each one of them as she did—and she especially enjoyed watching Peter and Jasper act out the young Hero and Claudio, with their innocent love and trusting personas. Shakespeare was brilliant, sure, but seeing his characters played out as queer, as identities the world had so often tried to stifle and beat down . . . well, it was powerful.
It was beautiful.
And then there was Stevie.
Iris had known she was good—like Stevie had said, Adri didn’t cast anyone who wasn’t—but she’d been unprepared for Stevie in full throttle. She approached Benedick in a way Iris never would’ve imagined—arrogant, for sure, but tender. Even shy. A woman—in their version, at least—who wore a mask for the world to hide a deeper fear of being seen.
Of being loved . . . and left.
Of course, the lines Stevie read didn’t say any of that, but Iris felt it. She knew everyone else felt it too, a distinct hush falling over them all whenever Benedick had a longer speech.
As for Iris, she read Beatrice on instinct, a feeling that had started with that strange audition with Adri. Iris’s Beatrice was angry, yes. Annoyed and a little bitter, but more than anything, exhaustion encapsulated her Beatrice, a bone-deep weariness from living in a world that constantly asked her to be someone she simply wasn’t.
But love changed her.
“And Benedick,” Iris read from act 3, scene 1. “Love on; I will requite thee, taming my wild heart to thy loving hand.”
She glanced at Stevie then, who was sitting across from her near the shallow end, watching her with her mouth slightly open. Iris felt triumphant at first—she’d read the line softly, but a little angrily, a bullet wrapped in a feather. It felt right, perfect even, but then Adri interrupted the moment.
“Let’s add a little more wistfulness there, Iris,” she said, scribbling something on her iPad with her stylus. “Okay, on to scene 2. I think—”
“I disagree,” Iris said.
Adri lifted a brow. “Oh?”
Iris cleared her throat. “I just think Beatrice isn’t really sure about loving Benedick. Not yet. She says she’ll give him her heart, but that scares her, even pisses her off that she’s caught feelings, so she says it with a little . . . I don’t know.”
“Oomph,” Zayn said.
“Yeah,” Iris said, smiling at them. “Oomph.”
Adri pursed her mouth. “This is Beatrice’s first realization of love, Iris. It’s important that it’s infused with care. With a little bit of awe.”
“I get that,” Iris said. “But I don’t think Beatrice is in awe here. I think she’s fucking terrified.”
“She says I will requite thee,” Adri said.
“Because deep down she does crave love,” Iris said, “not because she’s not scared. She’s talking to herself here. She knows what her heart wants, but she also knows her heart is wild, and she—”
“She wants to love Benedick, so she will,” Adri said.
“It’s really that simple for you?” Iris said. “I would think as a director, you’d press for a little more nuance in these characters, particularly as the play is queer and we’re all—”
“What I want as a director,” Adri said, her voice bordering on deadly, “is for my actors to take my notes and shut the fuck up about it.”
Silence fell on the group. Iris stared Adri down, her chest swelling with a strange sense of accomplishment. She was right about Beatrice—she knew she was—but suddenly, she was very aware that Beatrice’s emotional state in this scene had very little to do with why Iris had decided to go toe-to-toe with Adri.
“Well, here’s what I want,” Iris said, but before she could go any further, Stevie stood up so quickly, waves undulated through the pool as she whipped her legs free.
“I think we could all use a break, yeah?” she said, her eyes widening on Iris.
“Good idea,” Ren said. They were sitting under the umbrella at the patio table, working on a laptop. They barely even broke their stride tapping at the keys as they spoke. “I’ll make sure Adri gets a drink.”
“I don’t drink while I work,” Adri said. She hadn’t moved from her chair, her eyes still locked on Iris.
“Maybe you should,” Iris said, fully aware that she was pushing her luck here. Next thing she knew, she’d be out on her ass with this play, but she couldn’t seem to keep her mouth shut.
“Iris,” Stevie said, appearing next to her. She slotted their fingers together. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“Drama, drama, drama,” Peter said as Iris let Stevie lead her away.
“We knew it would be with those two,” Nina said, chin-nodding toward Adri.
“I fucking love it,” Zayn said.
“Will you all shut up?” Stevie said, pulling Iris toward the stairs that led to the beach. Her tone held no vitriol though—more like a sister fussing at her siblings.
She kept moving too, walking fast until she and Iris hit the rocky beach. Iris’s bare feet sank into the sand, and she let Stevie yank her toward the water at nearly a running pace.
“Okay, slow down,” Iris said once they’d reached the waves.
“Sorry,” Stevie said, doing as Iris asked. They started walking north, their fingers still tangled together.
Iris sighed, looking back over her shoulder at the house. Adri stood at the stairs now, watching them, her green hair blowing in the wind.
“Does she want to get back together with you?” Iris asked. “Is that what this is all about?”
Stevie sighed. “What do you mean this? You started that argument.”
“I simply voiced my artistic opinion.”
Stevie snorted.
“Okay,” Iris said. “Fine. I wanted to get under her skin. Doesn’t mean I’m not right about Beatrice.”
Stevie glanced at her. “No, I think you’re right. But that’s not the point. Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why get under her skin?”
Iris sniffed and looked out at the water. It was a dull gray today, the clouds overhead growing thicker and darker by the minute. The wind picked up, ruffling her clothes and pulling strands of hair from her braid.
“I don’t know,” Iris said, even though she did. The more she thought about that whole scene last night, the more it bothered her. Adri’s bullying, the room switch, how upset Stevie had been when she’d come back from the beach. She didn’t like the way Adri treated Stevie, plain and simple, but neither did she want Stevie to feel like she needed Iris to do anything about it.
“Really?” Stevie stopped, turned to face her. “Because you’re acting like a jealous girlfriend.”