IRIS

I’m perched cross-legged on the bed, phone balanced precariously in my hand, trying not to drop it as Daisy paces her living room behind the screen like she owns the place. “Seriously, Iris, your face is a blank canvas. We can’t have blank canvas vibes tonight. You’re supposed to be a goddess on a date, not someone who looks like she’s preparing for a nap.”

“I’m trying!” I protest, though the brush in my hand pauses mid-stroke as I examine the small, shaky movements of my own hands. “I’ve never been good at this.”

Daisy tilts her head, lips tugging into that mischievous grin that usually precedes some kind...