Chapter Eighteen
Chapter
Eighteen
Hours later, Dylan stood behind the counter at Clover Moon Café—an apron around her waist, her hair up in a high ponytail, frayed denim shorts tickling her legs—keenly aware that she’d really only trained with Ramona at the diner that one time, and also that she was on the verge of melting down.
The diner didn’t look all that different—townsfolk being paid as extras still filled most of the tables, pie still crowded the pastry case, and the air still smelled like coffee and french fries. The only differences, really, were the cameras everywhere, Gia barking orders, and Noelle currently adjusting Blair’s sleek gray suit on the other side of the bar before they started filming.
Oh, and the fact that Dylan was hyperaware that she wasn’t even last choice for the role of Eloise—she hadn’t been a choice at all. She hadn’t had time to properly process that information, what with asking out Ramona and all the havoc that had caused in the center of her chest, like a hurricane blowing in from the Atlantic. But now that it was time to do her job, she couldn’t think of anything else.
She kept glancing at Blair—who looked perfect and professional as Mallory for their meet-cute scene—wondering if she knew.
Blair huffed a breath. “Why do you keep staring at me?” She didn’t even glance at Dylan when she spoke, just kept her eyes straight ahead as Noelle tugged on a shoulder pad that didn’t seem to want to behave.
“I’m not,” Dylan said.
“You are. What, you need a little more attention?”
Dylan flinched. “What the hell does that mean?”
Finally, Blair deigned a glance. “Don’t be coy. It’s much less annoying if you just own it.”
“Easy, kittens,” Noelle deadpanned, a pin protruding from one side of her mouth.
“Own what ?” Dylan asked.
Blair just shook her head.
“You know,” Dylan started, even though her brain was telling her to shut up, “we might not struggle so much in these scenes if it wasn’t abundantly clear you’d rather swallow broken glass than engage in a romance with me.”
Blair laughed. “That’s not the issue, Dylan. I can do my job.”
“And I can’t?”
Blair closed her eyes, then looked at the ceiling. “Look, I’m not going to get into this right now.”
“Please, get into it.”
Blair turned then, disrupting Noelle’s work as she popped a hand on her hip. “You really want to do this? You really want me to say that you’re a spoiled, privileged brat who gets handed everything and still pisses it all away, while other people in this industry”—she pointed a finger at her own chest—“start from nothing, work their asses off, deal with racism and misogynoir and homophobia every single fucking day and still manage to do it with a modicum of respect for other people, still show up and know their lines and do their job like a goddamn queen? You really want me to say all that right now?”
Dylan’s whole face felt frozen, her mouth hanging open, her eyes wide. Noelle had frozen too, her mouth pursed and her arms folded as she waited for Blair’s tirade to end.
“I didn’t think so,” Blair said when Dylan said nothing. “Noelle, could we finish up somewhere else? I’m sorry for the interruption.”
“No problem,” Noelle said, and then the two of them moved off toward the front door.
Dylan stared after them for a few seconds. Blair’s words floated through her brain like puzzle pieces flung into the air, the letters slowly falling and settling into some semblance of meaning.
And the completed picture wasn’t pretty.
Then she heard a throat clear.
She turned to see Ramona standing about five feet away, an uncertain look on her face that told Dylan she’d heard every single word.
“Hi,” she said. A set pass hung around her neck, but she jutted a thumb toward the back room. “I’m all done helping out here, so I’ll—”
But Dylan didn’t let her finish. She reached out and grabbed Ramona’s hand, pulling her closer. She stopped before swallowing Ramona fully into her arms—even though she could use a goddamn hug right now—but she kept hold of Ramona’s hand, her grip a little too tight.
“You okay?” Ramona asked softly.
Dylan didn’t answer—couldn’t, because that would mean Ramona really did hear everything Blair said. Instead, she just smiled, shook her hair out of her face.
“Any last-minute tips?” she asked.
Ramona’s eyes searched hers. They searched for so long, Dylan started to worry Ramona had changed her mind, that she could suddenly see right through her, see that Dylan was made of nothing but glitter and glass, flimsy and breakable, all shine and no substance.
But then Ramona leaned closer, a small smile on her mouth. “Just remember Eloise is a mess too.”
Dylan’s breath tangled in her chest.
Too .
Eloise is a mess too .
But Ramona’s voice was so soft, so sweet, Dylan didn’t feel insulted or attacked. She felt…seen. She had a sudden and wild urge to kiss Ramona, or at least lean her head against hers. Get closer somehow. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this—this seen feeling that didn’t come with shame or guilt or fear, but simply…
She didn’t know.
Couldn’t even find a word for it.
“Maybe afterward,” she said, thumb swiping over the back of Ramona’s hand, “we can—”
But then she saw Laurel.
Right across from them by a booth, her phone aimed in their direction. She seemed to snap a picture, then looked at it with a smile on her face. Her eyes met Dylan’s and she gave her a thumbs-up.
“Maybe we can what?” Ramona asked. She turned to see whom Dylan was looking at, but Laurel had moved on by then.
Dylan shook her head. She didn’t think she could do this. Couldn’t date Ramona under Laurel’s gaze, Rayna’s and Gia’s, no matter how much she agreed that it would help her career right now. She just—
“Maybe we could hang out?” Ramona asked, her fingers tightening on Dylan’s.
Dylan let out a breath. Let herself say “Yeah.” Because she wanted to. It didn’t matter who else was pushing her toward Ramona…Dylan wanted to push herself.
“Yeah,” she said again. “Maybe we could hang out.”
Ramona grinned, squeezed Dylan’s hand again, and then she was walking away, and Gia was calling out that it was time to start, and cameras were moving into position, and lights warmed on Dylan’s face as she wiped down the counter, this time as Eloise—a tired, discouraged Eloise Tucker.
And soon, the only girl Eloise had ever loved would walk through the café door, and then…
Dylan’s eyes found Ramona one more time. She was standing in the hallway that led to the back, but still visible, still watching Dylan with a smile. Gia called, “Action,” then all but glared at Dylan with her arms crossed as though waiting for her to fuck up.
And Dylan did stumble over her first line to her boss, Nate, played by character actor Michael Wiley, but it seemed to work as he was asking Eloise to cover a shift later that evening, which would put her on a fifteen-hour workday. Eloise was harried and exhausted, and Dylan’s nerves fit right in with that. Miraculously, Gia didn’t yell Cut , or sigh heavily or anything. She did continue glaring, and Dylan ignored her.
She did her job.
And when Blair walked into the café as Mallory, Dylan did exactly what she was supposed to do—act completely annoyed with this posh woman asking for an oat milk lavender latte with low foam and a shot of collagen.
“ Collagen? ” Dylan asked as Eloise.
Mallory nodded, her face hidden from view as she riffled through her tiny leather bag. “ Boosts skin’s elasticity. You should really try it .”
“ Thanks for that tip, but we don’t have collagen .”
Blair as Mallory finally looked up, and Dylan as Eloise took a step back, recognition washing over her. She let her mouth fall open, then close, remembering how she felt in the bowling alley when she realized Ramona was Cherry…how she felt when she realized Cherry had just been left by her mother when they met…how she still felt every time she looked at Ramona—as though the world tilted, turned, twisted around just to bring them right here, right now.
“ Mal? ” Dylan said, her voice a whisper.
Mallory frowned, eyes narrowed, clearly not recognizing Eloise at first, but then her eyes widened. Still, it was too late, and Eloise was embarrassed.
“ Um, let me get that latte started for you ,” she said, then busied herself while Mallory sank onto a pleather stool in her thousand-dollar suit, watching Eloise work. When Eloise finally handed over the drink, their hands met.
“ Ellie ,” Mallory said.
Dylan pressed her eyes closed, let her lashes brush her cheek for a second before she looked up.
“ You remember ,” she said, her voice quiet.
“ I remember you ,” Mallory said.
“Cut!” Gia called out, then walked over to the two actors as the cameras reset. She looked at Dylan for a second, then just nodded and knocked on the bar top. “Ready to go again in five minutes.”
Dylan didn’t dare react, just pulled her hand from Blair’s calmly and took a sip of water from her bottle under the counter. Her hands were shaking, and she couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her mouth when she spotted Ramona in the hallway, who beamed at her like she’d invented moonlight. Except that smiling while drinking water didn’t really mix, and a stream of liquid dribbled down her chin and onto her light blue blouse, staining it dark.
“Shit,” she said, trying to brush it off, but that just spread it around even more.
“Don’t do that,” Ramona said, appearing at her side with a towel. “Dab.”
Dylan laughed nervously but did as Ramona instructed. “I don’t think that’s going to help either.” Her hands still shook, and she couldn’t tell if it was from adrenaline or nerves or the fact that she’d just fucked up her costume. Eloise couldn’t very well have a huge spill all over her shirt after very obviously not having one the second before.
“Noelle!” Gia called.
Dylan glanced at her director, who was back to glaring.
“Great,” Dylan muttered so only Ramona could hear her.
“It’s okay,” Ramona said. “You’re doing great.”
“Yeah?”
Ramona met her eyes, smiled. “Yeah.”
“Okay, what do we have here?” Noelle asked. She put her hands on her hips, eyed Dylan’s shirt over her orange-framed glasses. “Easy.”
Then she disappeared into the back as quickly as she’d come.
“I guess that means she’ll fix it?” Dylan said.
Ramona didn’t answer, just stared after Noelle, her mouth slightly open.
“Ramona?”
She startled. “Yeah? Sorry,” she said as Noelle hurried back into view, a blue blouse in her hands.
“Always bring at least three of everything for this very reason,” Noelle said as she started unbuttoning Dylan’s shirt right there.
Which…was not a big deal. It was a shirt. Dylan had on a bra underneath, of course, and when costume mishaps happened on set, you changed in front of everyone. It was standard, and no one in Hollywood gave two shits.
But Ramona wasn’t Hollywood.
“Um” was all Dylan could think to say as the cool air in the café hit the bare skin of her stomach and chest. Ramona’s cheeks bloomed red, her eyes flitting down to Dylan’s boobs before darting away. She pressed her mouth together, cleared her throat. It was sort of adorable, if Dylan were being honest. Still, she needed to fill the awkward silence with something as Noelle yanked off her stained shirt.
“Noelle, this is my friend, Ramona,” she said, nodding in Ramona’s direction.
Ramona’s eyes went wide. “H-h-hi.”
“Hey, there,” Noelle said, smiling as she tugged the blouse onto Dylan’s body. “You’re from here?”
Ramona nodded, then straightened her shoulders. “Lived here all my life. With one exceptional year.”
“And what was that?” Noelle asked. Her fingers worked quickly on the mother-of-pearl buttons, then she moved on to tucking the shirt into Dylan’s shorts, a task Dylan could’ve easily done herself, but Noelle was famously meticulous, so Dylan let her do her thing.
“What was what?” Ramona asked.
“What was your exceptional year?” Noelle asked.
“Oh.” Ramona swallowed, ran her hand over the back of her neck. “I was at RISD for a while.”
Noelle brightened at that. “Were you? I went to RISD.”
Ramona smiled. “I know.”
“What’s your medium?” Noelle asked, finally finishing with Dylan. But before Ramona could answer, Gia bellowed that it was time to go again. Ramona hurried off set, and Noelle adjusted Dylan’s shirt a bit more, calling Vee over with an iPad to compare it to the shirt in the scene before.
And then they were off again. Dylan Monroe receded, and Eloise Tucker took over, fumbling and blushing and spilling coffee around a girl she’d all but given up as lost.