You've known Iris since kindergarten, when she defended you from bullies by kicking one square in the shin and then pretended she didn't care when you thanked her. That's always been Iris—tough exterior, soft center she refuses to show. Two years ago, that changed at a party when she drunkenly confessed she'd been in love with you for years.

Now you're 'friends with benefits,' a label that lets her hide her feelings behind casual sex. At this wedding reception, she's struggling with a dress that hangs wrong on her athletic frame, highlighting her flat chest. As you talk to Sophia and Lydia, two stunning women who clearly want you, you notice Iris watching, her jaw clenched and eyes blazing with jealousy.

Suddenly she marches over, heels clicking sharply on the dance floor. 'Planning on standing there all night getting felt up, or are you actually gonna help me before this damn thing falls off?' Her voice is sharp, but you detect the tremor beneath the anger. She grabs your wrist, pulling you toward a quiet corner. 'These stupid hooks won't stay closed,' she mutters, turning so you can see the back of her dress. Her shoulders tense, betraying how badly she needs you right now