Chapter Seven
They were standing at the bar. Iris knew that.
Barrett had led them here. She was still behind Iris, her body a warm barrier against Natasha and Jemma and the rest of the world.
There was something nice about it, something soothing in it.
But Iris knew that was only because she had space to escape.
Barrett hadn’t pressed her tightly against the bar.
She wasn’t actually trapped or restrained.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked, and, even through the quagmire of emotions that filled Iris’ mind and body, she knew the smile was overly familiar.
Was the bartender flirting with Barrett? While she was wrapped around Iris? It felt disrespectful.
It wasn’t, of course. Barrett was free to do whatever she wanted. Iris wasn’t interested in her. But, for the moment, she needed her.
A shudder of discomfort ran through her body, raising goosebumps and bile. She couldn’t need Barrett. This whole thing was wrong and awkward and weird—and how was she going to even make eye contact with Barrett at work tomorrow after all this?
Her hands were still on Iris’ ribcage, tapping gently but firmly.
Fuck.
The bones in Iris’ collar and shoulders felt like they were on fire. They hurt so badly. So did the rest of her body. How did she go back there, especially without Barrett?
“Two ginger ales, please,” Barrett said. “One with lime.”
Iris nodded like she was the one being asked to get them. It was a weird response.
“You got it,” the bartender said before gliding off to get them.
Gliding. Like a ghost or an angel or something entirely not of this world. Exactly what Iris wanted to be. Gone.
But she wasn’t gone. There was no gone, because this was Anya’s birthday and she could get through this. She could celebrate her friend.
The bartender returned quickly, placing two glasses in front of her—them—before just leaving. Iris’ mind was working slowly but it eventually arrived at the fact that they hadn’t paid and everyone else had been paying per drink.
“Drink this. Slowly,” Barrett instructed gently, one of her hands finally moving from Iris’ ribs. She missed it immediately but reached for the glass as instructed. It was the one without lime.
“Why did you order this?” she asked quietly.
Barrett’s exhale tickled through her hair, disrupting both it and Iris’ insides.
Everything felt weird and different and uncategorizable.
The world felt simultaneously dulled and sharp beyond belief.
All the soft, happy edges shaved off into jagged, painful ones.
It had been a long time since the world felt that way, and she’d barely noticed how soft it had gotten until she was back here.
“Ginger is soothing,” Barrett replied, as she squeezed the lime from the rim of her glass into her own drink.
“And lime isn’t?” Iris was finally aware how flat her own voice sounded. It had been a long time since that, too.
“It can be, but I have no idea how you feel about lime. Plus, it’s acidic and, with a carbonated drink, I wasn’t sure if it was what your stomach needed right now.”
“My stomach is acidic,” Iris said, embarrassed at how ridiculous and childlike she sounded.
Part of her had wanted to tell Barrett she could simply have asked about the lime, but they both knew that was a question.
Questions required answers. And Iris wouldn’t be great at answers right now.
Not the kind that came from choices, anyway.
Barrett didn’t laugh. She hummed in agreement as she sipped her own drink. “That it is.”
“You’re being nice to me.”
“I’m always nice to you, princess.”
“You said I wasn’t nice to you.”
The heavy sigh she let out was barely audible. “That was just a joke between colleagues. We can chalk it up to me being jealous that Oscar gets all of your attention instead of me.”
Iris nodded but she knew it wasn’t that.
Barrett would never be jealous of anyone who got Iris’ attention.
She was more likely jealous that Oscar sat in Iris’ lap so much at the office.
But he loved Barrett too, and he went home with her.
It wasn’t anything against Barrett. He was just making sure he got his fill of both of them when he could.
She finally sipped her own drink. It wasn’t like the ginger ale she’d been given as a child. It was less sweet, more real ginger, and it really did feel soothing. And hot. It wasn’t, but the warmth of the ginger felt like it was defrosting her insides. It had been a good call.
Feeling far more weighed down than she should, Iris turned her head, looking around the bar. And she was shocked to find someone else smiling at Barrett. Did everyone in this place want to hit on her? Was Iris simply in the way? She probably needed to get back to her… friends anyway.
“Someone’s smiling at you,” she told Barrett, voice still too flat.
“I’m aware,” Barrett replied, a little rueful.
“I can leave you to—”
“That’s absolutely not necessary.” She breathed a laugh before leaning around Iris to actually look at her. “I came here with a friend. That’s the friend.”
“Oh.” Now that she was reminded, Iris did remember Barrett saying that. “Right.”
“Sorry she’s staring. She’s nosy. But I love her.”
Iris looked away from Barrett and back at the woman, who beamed and waved.
She was like the complete opposite of Barrett. Feminine where Barrett leaned masculine. Wearing soft pinks and creams while Barrett wore her usual black.
“I can tell her to leave you alone,” Barrett said quickly.
“No.” Iris took a conscious, measured breath, fighting to get her lungs to expand properly. “It’s okay. You met my friends, it’s only fair—”
“Those aren’t your friends and I’m not interested in turnabout. You don’t have to meet Ruby because I met the group you came with.”
“Anya’s my friend.” Iris’ voice was heartbreakingly tiny and hurt beyond belief. She still had that one, good friend, right?
Barrett nodded. “Anya is. But that still doesn’t mean you have to meet Ruby.”
“It’s okay.”
“Iris…”
“No. It’s fine. Really.” Without waiting for an answer, or thinking about the fact that Barrett had just used her name, Iris picked up her drink and headed for Ruby.
Don’t miss her hands, don’t miss her hands. It’s fine.
She worked hard to rearrange her features into a smile as she approached the woman who was positively radiating joy.
“Hi!” Ruby greeted, practically vibrating with excitement.
Barrett laughed, stopping close to Iris again. “Ruby, this is Iris. Iris, Ruby.”
“I knew it was you. You’re exactly as Barrett described you.”
“Ruby, I’m trying to be cool here,” Barrett replied, but she didn’t seem concerned, more like it was a joke between the two of them, one that Iris was missing.
Perhaps, if she’d been more cognizant, she might have understood. Although, if she had, the fact that Barrett described her so clearly might have registered more strongly. She’d honestly assumed Barrett never spoke of her outside the office.
“Nice to meet you,” Iris said, holding a hand out.
“Oh, your hand is so cold,” Ruby remarked as she shook it, causing Iris to wince in embarrassment. That would be her body shutting down.
“We were just outside,” Barrett lied smoothly, and Iris fought against shooting her a grateful look.
Ruby laughed. “Well, you should definitely stay inside with me. It’s much nicer in here. Plus, Deepti is here.”
“That’s Ruby’s new partner. The one I mentioned.”
Iris felt like she was sifting through memories far older than tonight as she tried to place the comments. That wasn’t a good sign. Her brain wasn’t working right. However, with Herculean effort, she remembered the conversation. “The bartender.”
“Correct.” Barrett flashed her a look with that amused eyebrow thing she did sometimes. Even outside of stress, Iris never knew quite how to describe it. There was something… charismatic about it. “They’re the one who just served us, actually.”
“Oh.” Iris felt a shot of heat rush to her cheeks as she finally realized the bartender hadn’t been trying to flirt with Barrett. They knew Barrett. They were just being nice. “We didn’t pay.”
Barrett laughed—probably at how surprised Iris seemed that she’d just said that—and nodded. “The perks of knowing the bartender, apparently.”
Ruby giggled. “Isn’t she amazing?”
Barrett’s smile became soft, quiet as she looked at Ruby. There was something so sweet and beautiful about it that Iris’ insides burned—jealousy battling with feeling like she was intruding on something never meant for her.
It wasn’t that she wanted Barrett to look at her like that.
It was that she wanted a friend who loved her like Barrett clearly loved Ruby.
There was a camaraderie between them, a familiarity and trust that blazed through every interaction that was absent from Iris’ life.
Had she kept everyone at too much of a distance to deserve that?
The urge to bolt shot through her again and she shifted from foot to foot, her breathing becoming shallower once more.
“They are very wonderful,” Barrett told Ruby genuinely, and she watched Ruby sigh contentedly.
However, Iris didn’t get another second to feel like she was an unwelcome intrusion because Barrett’s free hand reached around her back, unseen by Ruby, to find her ribs and tap again. Barrett was monitoring her even without looking directly. And she cared enough to help.