Chapter Twenty
Chapter
Twenty
Ramona didn’t see Dylan at all the next day. She knew they were filming at the diner, but she and April had promised to take Olive and Marley shopping for dorm room supplies in Concord, the closest town with big commercial stores most likely to have everything they needed.
“Wait, you didn’t kiss?” April said as they strolled through the bedding aisle at Target. April pushed the cart, which was already half-full of plastic hooks, a lamp with a purple shade, two shower caddies, shower shoes, and a jumbo pack of ramen.
“There wasn’t really a great opportunity,” Ramona said as she investigated which pack of twin sheets was the cheapest but also wouldn’t feel like Olive was sleeping on sandpaper.
“You’re both terrible gays, you know that, right?” April said, leaning on the cart’s handle.
Ramona laughed. “She walked me to my door like a gentleperson, though.”
“And…” April rolled her hand for more details.
“And…Dad opened the door.”
“Clam-jammed by Mr. Riley.”
Ramona laughed again. “He turned so red. Said he thought he heard something and was worried it was the paparappi again.”
“You mean paparazzi?”
“No, he said paparappi.”
“Oh my god, why is he so cute?”
Ramona shook her head. “Anyway, it was fine. We had so much fun—”
“I mean, nothing spells romance like fungi.”
“But I’m not even sure I…”
Ramona sighed while April lifted a brow.
“You’re not sure you what?” April asked.
“I just…” Ramona picked a pack of white sheets with tiny purple flowers all over them. “She’s Dylan Monroe.”
“Oh, is that her name?”
“She’s famous, Apes. She’s not like me. And she’s leaving at the end of the summer.”
April groaned. “Not everything has to end in wedding bells, Llama.”
“No, I know, I just…”
But Ramona wasn’t sure how to end the sentence. Truth was, she was supremely disappointed—and a little embarrassed—when her father crashed the end of her date, but she’d spent the entire night and this morning convincing herself it was for the best. Not that she was opposed to a kiss or two, but Dylan wasn’t like Logan. She was…Ramona didn’t know. But she wasn’t Logan.
“Let me ask you this,” April said as Ramona put two packs of sheets in the cart. “While you were mooning over mycelium, did it feel like you were with a famous person, or did it just feel like you were with a person?”
Ramona opened her mouth but closed it quickly. Other than the brief moment with everyone staring at them—and Dylan smiling and waving like Hollywood royalty—she never even thought of Dylan’s fame again. Didn’t have to, because Dylan was just…Dylan. Not Dylan Monroe , or Killin’ Dylan, or Jack and Carrie’s wildling. She was a girl who’d meticulously planned a date for Ramona. She was romantic and sweet and…
Ramona liked her.
Goddammit, she did.
“That’s what I thought,” April said.
“Oh, shut up,” Ramona said, laughing, but then grew serious and took April’s arm. What she’d said about April’s failed engagement in Owen’s office yesterday still weighed on her mind. “Hey.”
“Hey,” April said slowly, lifting her brows.
“You know I love you, right?” Ramona said. “And I support whatever you want or feel or think, and however you process what happened with Elena. Always.”
April’s eyes went a little soft. “I know, Llama Face.”
Ramona squeezed her arm. “I want you to believe in you too.”
April’s expression dipped, but just for a second before she grinned. “There are few things I believe in as strongly as my badass self,” she said, before pinching Ramona lightly on the cheek and then pushing the cart to the next aisle.
Ramona huffed a laugh as she followed her, but she’d barely rounded the corner when she smacked right into April’s back. April had gone stock-still, blinking at a person in front of her.
“Leigh?” April said.
“April, oh my god,” the person said. They were thin, and had brown skin and wild dark curls, hair cut short on the sides. They had on torn jeans and white sneakers, a worn band tee. “Ramona, hey. Should’ve known I wouldn’t see one of you without the other.”
Ramona smiled at Leigh Reynolds, who was now standing in the comforter aisle at Target, a navy quilt in their arms. April launched herself into Leigh’s arms.
Leigh Reynolds had been their friend in high school. There were only a handful of out queer kids in their class, so the three of them had naturally flocked together, moving as a pack through their four years at Clover Lake High. Leigh was a lesbian, nonbinary, and had also been April’s first sexual experience. She’d slept with Leigh when she was seventeen, continued to sleep with them until she met and fell in love with Elena, and now here they were again.
Ramona could never quite keep it straight, to be honest, because Leigh Reynolds was a fuckboi and knew exactly how to get into any girl’s pants they wanted to, with enthusiastic consent. Ramona had never gone that route—she hadn’t had the time, despite the fact that Leigh was empirically hot—but April couldn’t resist.
After graduation, Leigh had left Clover Lake, went to medical school, and became an anesthesiologist. They worked at a hospital in Chicago now, at least the last Ramona had heard. Every now and then, they’d come back to town, slip into April’s bed, then head back to Illinois.
“My god, Leigh, warn a girl!” April said, grinning.
“You know I like to keep you on your toes,” Leigh said. “Came back for my mom’s birthday this weekend.”
“Such a good kid,” April said, patting Leigh’s cheek.
Leigh just winked, and Ramona stifled a laugh. She could almost hear April’s panties dropping.
“Hey, there you are,” Olive said as she and Marley appeared in the main aisle. Olive had a pile of lavender towels in her arms, and Marley flipped a pack of gauzy plum-colored curtains from hand to hand. “Did you find a purple comforter?”
“Oh,” Ramona said, then looked around at the shelves. “Not yet.”
“Holy shit, Olive Riley?” Leigh said. “You grew up.”
Olive’s eyes went wide. “Leigh, oh my god,” she said, then threw her arms around Leigh too.
Leigh laughed, then glanced at Marley. “Hey, Mar-Mar, god, what is in the water here?”
“We’re shopping for their college dorm room,” April said.
“No way,” Leigh said as Olive pulled back.
“Very way,” Marley said. “Ollie wants all purple shit.”
“Purple shit is a compromise between my pink and your blue,” Olive said.
“How very bisexual of you,” Leigh said.
Olive’s brows lifted, and she glanced at Ramona, who just lifted her brows right back. Marley very pointedly looked at the floor.
Olive cleared her throat. “Which one do you like, Mar?” She waved at the plastic-wrapped comforters on the shelves.
“Whichever one you do,” Marley said. She put her curtains in the cart too, but then Ramona noticed her eyes following Olive, gazing at her best friend instead of the comforter options. When Marley’s gaze snagged on Ramona’s, her cheeks went red and she got out her phone, busying herself with scrolling.
“I like this one,” Olive said, grabbing a deep purple comforter with lavender leaves all over it. It was reversible, the colors switched on the other side.
“That’s pretty,” Ramona said. “It’ll match everything we’ve got so far.”
“Like Barney threw up,” April said, and Leigh laughed.
“Oh, ha ha,” Olive said. “Marley, what do you think?”
Marley didn’t answer. Her eyes were wide on her phone, her fingers pressed to her mouth.
“Mar?” Olive said. “You okay?”
Marley lifted her head, but she didn’t look at Olive.
She looked at Ramona.
“What’s wrong?” Ramona asked.
“Um…” Marley said, but then Olive all but stomped over and took her phone, eyes scanning whatever had Marley so spooked.
“Holy. Shit,” Olive said after a few seconds.
“God, what now?” Ramona said, but she was laughing as she plucked her phone from her bag’s front pocket. Honestly, she’d expected this—there had been a ton of tiny cameras on her and Dylan yesterday, and if she was going to hang out with a famous person, she was going to have to get used to some pictures of herself on the internet. It’s not like she’d ever be doing anything scandalous in public. The most risqué thing would probably be a swimsuit shot if she and Dylan ever went swimming and, honestly, she looked amazing in her two-piece.
“What’s going on?” Leigh asked.
“Oh, Ramona’s dating a star,” April said.
“I am not. Well, not really.”
“A star?” Leigh said. “Is this about all this movie insanity I came home to?”
“Oh yeah,” April said. “Dylan Monroe.”
“God,” Leigh said. “She’s hot.”
“Right?” April said as she got out her own phone and started swiping and tapping.
Ramona ignored them both, tapping her name along with Dylan’s into her browser’s search window.
“Fuck,” April whispered, always faster with the tech. “Ramona, hang on.”
“What? Why?” She tapped enter, and several articles popped up on TMZ, Page Six, and PopSugar. She clicked on one, immediately faced with a picture of herself and Dylan holding hands at the Earthstars Museum. Nothing horrible—she looked cute in her overalls, it was true.
But then she saw the headline.
Childhood Sweethearts Reunite
Her stomach immediately went cold. She felt someone’s hand on her back—April’s probably—but everything else in the store faded away, blurred as though she’d just taken some hallucinogenic drug as she read the article.
Dylan Monroe’s efforts at starring in a romantic comedy might not be too far from the actual truth, as our wild girl seems to be living her own real-life, clutch-at-your-heart romance. As it turns out, Dylan and Ramona of Clover Lake (move aside, Anne Shirley) met each other eons ago when they were thirteen on the lakeshore during a fireworks display. As if that wasn’t swoon-worthy enough, the two shared a memorable first kiss, then never spoke again.
Until.
You guessed it.
Dylan arrived back in Clover Lake for As If You Didn’t Know , and now it appears Dylona has been born. Or shall we go with Ramlyn?
That was all there was. A hundred words tops, but it was enough to obliterate Ramona’s mind, her smile, her entire understanding of what she and Dylan were doing. Her heart felt huge, swollen and beating too fast, or maybe too slow, she couldn’t tell. It was just wrong, unnatural, and she was in the middle of the bedding aisle at a fucking Target.
“Is this true?” Olive asked.
Ramona looked at her sister, Olive’s eyes full of both wonder and hurt.
“Ollie,” Ramona said, her name for her sister when she was small and could fit in her arms.
Olive just shook her head, looked away. It was true they told each other everything. Olive even knew about Logan—granted, she didn’t know specifics, but she was old enough to understand that sex between consenting adults was perfectly normal and healthy, and Ramona had made damn sure to raise Olive in a sex-positive environment, no matter how much their father squirmed when condoms were mentioned at the dinner table.
Still.
Olive didn’t know this, and Ramona didn’t know what to do about that wounded look on her favorite person’s face, especially when her heart felt shredded and raw.
Because no one knew this story.
No one except April and Dylan.
She turned to her best friend, felt her brows lower. She didn’t want to believe it. Didn’t even want to think it.
April’s expression was nothing but concern…until it shifted.
“Mona,” she said softly. “I didn’t. I swear to god.”
Ramona felt herself relax. She knew April wouldn’t—why the hell would she? There was no reason, and April was her ride or die, her everything from the day they met.
“I’m sorry,” Ramona said, then covered her mouth with her hand, talking through her fingers. “I know you wouldn’t.”
April smoothed her hand down Ramona’s hair, squeezed the back of her neck. Leigh just stood there quietly, eyes soft, didn’t ask what was happening, didn’t take out their own phone to find out.
“I just don’t understand,” Ramona said.
April sighed. “There is another person who knows that story.”
Ramona shook her head. “I know, but why would she…”
She trailed off. She couldn’t even begin to imagine why Dylan would share the tender details of their first meeting with the media. Didn’t want to imagine. But Dylan was the only explanation. Dylan, whom Ramona liked. Dylan, whom Ramona had really wanted to kiss last night. Dylan, who researched a mushroom museum for her.
Dylan, whom Ramona really didn’t know at all.