Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter
Twenty-Six
Ramona opened the door to Dylan’s bedroom, the flat sheet from the bed wrapped around her naked body.
She could’ve slept for hours longer—she didn’t think she and Dylan had fallen asleep until around four in the morning—but when she woke up to an empty bed, she didn’t want to be that girl who slept till noon the first time she stayed over. Besides, it was nearly ten already, and her stomach was growling.
“Dylan?” she called.
She blinked into the bright morning sun streaming through the front windows. Looked around for Dylan but didn’t see her anywhere. It was a small house, only two bedrooms and one hallway bathroom between them, and the kitchen, living room, and dining room were all one open area. There were only so many places Dylan could be.
“Dylan?” she called again, checking the other bedroom. The bathroom door was open, the space dark inside. She went to the front door, sheet dragging behind her like a badly designed toga, and stepped onto the empty front porch, nothing but two wicker chairs and a table between them. The morning was warm, a slight breeze that always blew this close to the lake.
Dylan’s rental car was in the driveway.
“Dylan?” she said, a little louder this time, just in case Dylan was out in the yard or checking yesterday’s mail or…
But the tiny cul-de-sac where the house sat was quiet, void of any neighbors out and about, and certainly void of any famous movie stars picking flowers or petting a neighborhood dog.
Ramona went back inside before anyone saw her—she knew Mrs. Murphy who lived two houses down was a notorious gossip—and closed the door behind her.
“Dylan?” she said one more time, panic lacing her voice, but there was no answer.
Dylan Monroe was not here.
Ramona found her bag on the couch, dug out her phone. She had several missed calls from April, none from Olive. None from Dylan either. She tapped on Dylan’s number and pressed the phone to her ear.
A second later, she heard a vibration in the bedroom. There, on the dresser, was Dylan’s phone. She had no idea how attached Dylan was to her phone—she remembered Dylan mentioning that it got her in trouble a lot, so the fact that she’d left without it might not be all that unusual.
Because Dylan had left.
She’d left Ramona alone in her own house, no note, no text.
Nothing.
Ramona sank down onto the bed, sat there for a good five minutes trying to process what to do or how she felt. Maybe Dylan had gone out to get breakfast for them. Made sense, as she knew Dylan didn’t have much in the house. Ramona nodded to herself and got dressed. Used Dylan’s toothpaste on her finger to scrub her teeth clean. Made Dylan’s bed and picked up Dylan’s own discarded clothes on the bedroom floor, set them in the hamper by the dresser.
Then she settled on the living room couch and read a thriller on her e-book phone app.
She sat there and read four chapters.
Sat there for an hour.
One hour and eleven minutes.
Finally, she slipped her phone into her bag, then stood and left Dylan’s house, leaving the door hanging wide open as she went.
“Wait, wait, wait,” April said, “let me make sure I’ve got this right.”
She sat on her couch, a squashy lavender-gray color with black-and-white throw pillows featuring tragic women’s faces—Marilyn Monroe, Judy Garland, Sylvia Plath. Ramona was tucked into one corner, a cup of coffee in her hands, Sylvia in her lap. One of April’s cats, Bob the Drag Cat—named for one of April’s favorite drag queens—was curled up next to April. Her other cat, a notoriously cranky lynx point Siamese named Bianca del Kitty for another drag queen, glared at Ramona from her perch on the back of the oversized armchair by the fireplace.
Ramona had gone straight to April’s after leaving Dylan’s, knowing April would pepper her with questions, which was what she needed right now. Questions and answers.
“Don’t make me say all of that again,” Ramona said.
“No, no,” April said. She was in a white undershirt-style tank top, which Ramona had never seen her wear before, and a pair of plaid boxers. “I wouldn’t dare. But…mind-blowing sex, right?”
“Check.”
“And no sign of Dylan in her own house?”
“Check, check.”
April frowned. “Let’s go back to the sex.”
Ramona laughed, flopped her head back onto the cushion. She stared at the ceiling, which was plaster and painted the same light aqua color as the walls, because April was nothing if not unconventional. Framed art covered nearly every inch of the walls too, all different colors, styles, mediums. Some of it was April’s, some not. After Elena left, April had become a plant gay as well, greenery thriving and draped all over her tiny bungalow.
“It was good,” Ramona said.
“Excuse me, I believe you said mind-blowing. Dare I say, DNA-altering?”
“Oh, god,” Ramona said, covering her face. “This is just like Elena, and Dylan is going to pulverize my heart, and I’m totally screwed.”
“Wow, my life has a lovely outlook,” April said flatly.
Ramona groaned into her hands. “Sorry. I’m being dramatic.”
“A bit. But DNA-altering sex will do that. Trust me, I know.”
Ramona groaned louder.
“Plus, this is not like Elena,” April said. “I highly doubt another narcissist of her level even exists in the world, and if they do, goddess help us all.”
Ramona peeked at April through her fingers. “She called me a slut.”
April’s brows lifted. “In a fun, kinky way, I hope.”
Ramona’s face flamed, and she dropped her hands. “Of course.”
April smirked. “And you liked it.”
“God, I did,” Ramona said, “but now she’s disappeared, and I’m not sure whether to report her missing or be pissed off that she ghosted me in her own house.”
“There’s got to be an explanation.”
“Maybe,” Ramona said. “Maybe I should—”
But she froze when another person sauntered into the room from the hallway that led to the two small bedrooms. Not just any person.
Leigh.
“Morning,” they said, looking bleary and mussed. Their hair was a complete mess, at least five inches tall, and they wore April’s favorite Sleater-Kinney T-shirt.
“Um” was all Ramona could say.
“Coffee’s in the kitchen,” April said.
Leigh sauntered off, and Ramona pointed at April’s tank top. “That’s Leigh’s.”
April shrugged and sipped her coffee. “I ran into them again after I locked up the shop and was craving ice cream.”
“They were at Sugar Sandy’s?”
“Eats Chocolate-Chocolate Monster like it’s laced with Molly. You remember that about them.”
Ramona shook her head. “You two didn’t waste any time.”
April grinned. “They’re only here for a few days. And let me tell you, they have learned some skills since the last time.”
Ramona lowered her voice. “I thought if I wasn’t allowed to hook up with Logan, you couldn’t hook up with Leigh.”
“No such deal was ever made, darling. You said if you dated, then I had to date, and this”—she plucked at the chest of Leigh’s tank top—“is not a date. It’s just sex. I’m not in love with Leigh, nor do I want to be. Cloverians really need to expand their ideas about sex and pleasure.” She leaned forward. “I have to tell you, Leigh does this thing with their thumb that—”
“You’re here early, Ramona,” Leigh said, reappearing with coffee and plopping into the armchair, eliciting an annoyed mew from Bianca.
“It’s after eleven o’clock,” Ramona said.
“Is it?” Leigh said, then nothing else, sitting with one ankle propped on their knee as they sipped their coffee, looking exactly like the quintessential fuckboi they were.
“Ramona is having some girl trouble,” April said.
“April,” Ramona said.
“What? Leigh is an expert at girl trouble.”
Leigh smiled over their coffee mug. “Giselle?”
“Who?” April said.
“Dylan Monroe’s character on Spellbound ,” Leigh said. “Fucking loved that show.”
“Oh, god, that’s right,” April said. “Hottest vampire ever.”
“I used to write smutty fanfic about her and Cressida,” Leigh said.
“Well, that I have to read,” Ramona said.
“It’s terrible,” Leigh said. “Definitely not my best work.”
“All the more reason to read it,” April said.
“The sex scenes were hilarious. Like, positions no human could ever get themselves into.”
“Good thing they’re a witch and a vampire, then,” April said.
Ramona laughed, but the sound was tight. She checked her phone—still nothing. “Can we get back to me?” she asked. “What do I do here?”
“What’s the situation?” Leigh asked, then April proceeded to explain what happened.
“How mind-blowing are we talking?” Leigh said.
April snorted a laugh, and Ramona flipped her off.
“What?” Leigh said, grinning. “It’s a relevant question. Like, you want to see her again kind of mind-blowing?”
“Mona likes Dylan, Leigh,” April said. “An alien concept to you, I know.”
“I like people,” Leigh said.
“Yeah, their cunts.”
Leigh smirked. “Well, cunts are very likable.”
“Cheers to that,” April said, lifting her coffee mug.
“I’ll have you know, I had a real live girlfriend last year,” Leigh said.
April’s jaw dropped open. “Leigh Reynolds caught feelings.”
“It was awful,” Leigh said, shaking their head, their gaze distant as though remembering a nightmare.
April just laughed, while Ramona stood up abruptly. On any other day, she’d be joining in the fun here, but right now, she was about to crawl out of her skin.
“I’ve got to find her,” she said. “Make sure she’s okay.”
“She’s fine,” Leigh said. “She’s hot and famous.”
“Physically, I mean,” Ramona said. “What if something happened to her? What if she went out for bagels and, I don’t know, fell in the lake?”
“Fell in the lake,” April deadpanned.
“Maybe she can’t swim,” Ramona said, her panic growing and pushing out any anger or hurt. Because Dylan wouldn’t do this. She wouldn’t just leave Ramona without a word. Not after their night together. Not after the Earthstars Museum. Not after already hurting Ramona, however unintentionally, by spilling their story to a tabloid.
“I’ve never seen anyone just fall into the lake,” April said.
“They might if they were on a pier,” Ramona said.
“Why would she be on a pier?”
“I don’t know!” Ramona said, her voice reaching screeching levels. “Why would she not be in her own fucking house when I woke up?”
“Okay,” April said calmly, presenting her palms. “Okay, you’re right. Maybe she fell in the lake.”
Ramona threw her bag’s strap over her shoulder, headed for the door. “Someone must’ve seen her. She’s Dylan Monroe. She can’t go anywhere without a camera pointed at her face.”
“Hey, hang on,” April said, standing up too. “We’ll come with you.”
“What?” Leigh said.
“We’ll come with you,” April said again, glaring at Leigh.
“Right. Yes. We’ll come with you,” Leigh said, though they didn’t budge from the chair.
“Just let us get dressed,” April said, grabbing Leigh’s arm and pulling them up.
“Fine, but hurry,” Ramona said as she tried calling Dylan again. She wouldn’t mind someone going with her, to be honest. She felt a little shaky, adrenaline and worry and Dylan’s phone going to voicemail over and over again coalescing into a terrible, awful combination.