A lovers’ quarrel between Dylan and Ramona, the sites reported—a distraught, lovesick Dylan Monroe and a small-town girl rescuing her from her own demons.
Blah, blah, blah.
It was sweet, and the gossip sites ate it up, but it was hardly the truth. Not a single mention of Jack and Carrie other than them visiting their daughter on set in a show ofsolidarity, and Ramona seemed to trust Dylan when she told Ramona those sites weren’t worth looking at in the first place. She was sure April did, probably Olive and Marley too, but after the night they’d shared in the Riley house, Ramona hadn’t brought up anything the internet said about the two of them.
And Dylan certainly didn’t want to discuss it, particularly howdating Ramona—the romance, their history together, even the sidewalk rescue—had done nothing but help Dylan’s image.
Just like Laurel and Rayna said it would.
But it didn’t matter.
None of that mattered, because DylanlikedRamona.
So damn much.
She liked holding her hand, she liked taking her out to dinner, she liked kissing her on the couch while they tried to watch a movie, and she liked taking her to bed when they both decided there were much more interesting things to do than watch a movie.
God, she really, really liked Ramona in her bed.
The sex was incredible, yes, but Ramona also just made Dylan feel so soft. She woke up every day and knew exactly how to be Eloise Tucker. She knew how to hold Blair’s hand as Mallory, knew how to smile shyly, and she knew how to let her smile reach her eyes on Mallory and Eloise’s first fake date. She knew how to be wary of Mallory’s rich family, how to act jealous when Mallory fumbles around an old ex, how to drum up some real tears when Mallory pretty much tells Eloise she could do so much more with her life.
In short, she knew how to fuckingact.
And Gia wasn’t the only one who took notice.
“Can we talk through this scene?” Blair asked one morning, the day before the Fourth of July.
It was a big day on set as they prepared to film a hugely important scene, the one where Mallory and Eloise share their first real kiss. They were at the house the studio was using as Mallory’s family’s home—a gigantic and beautiful craftsman on the north end of the lake surrounded by the woods, greenery and summer flowers blooming all around the property, the blue water sparkling in the background. Inside it was expertly decorated, all spa blue and linen, white cabinets and gray quartz counters, the light gauzy and fresh and…well,rich. In reality, the house belonged to some finance bronamed Jason Bonner who lived in New York City most of the year and barely frequented the house even in the summer months.
“Yeah, of course,” Dylan said to Blair, making a note in her own script. They sat at the patio table on the back porch, already done with wardrobe and makeup, the lake glittering in front of them as the crew finished setting up the huge fundraiser taking place in the backyard in this scene. The immaculate lawn was filled with round tables covered in white and sage-green linens, a buffet table was overflowing with gorgeous food they wouldn’t really get to eat, and a sign declaring the noble cause—a foundation that helped foster children who had aged out of the system—fluttered in the breeze between two oaks.
“I think I’m actually nervous about it,” Blair said.
“Because of the author?” Dylan asked. They both looked out at the yard, where Iris Kelly, the author of the book the film was based on, was chatting with the actors who played Mallory’s parents, her hands flying as she spoke. She had wild red hair and wore a long green skirt that hit midcalf, brown ankle boots laced up on her feet. Her partner—a stage actor in New York City, Stevie Scott—stood next to her and smiled. Iris was an executive producer for the film but didn’t have much involvement other than consulting. Still, she’d created Eloise and Mallory, so Dylan was a little on edge about her performance.
“Maybe,” Blair said. “I think it’s mostly…” She trailed off, her pen tapping on her own script. “I don’t know.”
“That we have tokiss?” Dylan asked, drawing out the last word like a middle schooler.
“Oh, I can kiss,” Blair said. “I think it’s more that I have to pretend to like you.” She laughed as she said it, her tone jovial.
Blair and Dylan had been getting along pretty decently since Blair had laid into her a few weeks ago. Maybe they’d just neededto clear the air, and Blair’s points, Dylan had to admit, were all very valid. Dylan wouldn’t say they were friends, but they were friendly. Cordial. Which was enough to get through a day of filming without Dylan feeling the need to pluck out her entire head of hair with a pair of tweezers.
“I think I’m having a hard time getting it,” Blair said.
“Getting what?”
“Why Eloise is so into Mallory.”
Dylan blinked, then frowned.
“I mean, Mallory’s got money, right?” Blair went on. “She can do anything with her life, pretty much. Go anywhere. Give Eloise the world. So I get the material side to it. That’s easy. But Eloise is sweet and gentle, and Mallory is haughty and high-maintenance and an emotional mess, and I just…” She sighed. “I don’t know. Need to dig deeper.”
She looked back down at her script, but Dylan just stared at her, her heart suddenly thick and loud under her ribs.
“What do you think?” Blair asked. She was dressed in an immaculate suit—fuchsia, with a white lace blouse and bright orange heels Dylan was pretty sure cost about the same as this lake house. On the other hand, Dylan—Eloise—was in a cheap cotton sundress, sky blue, and ballet flats that pinched her toes.
“They’re too small,” she’d told Noelle when she’d been in wardrobe this morning.
