Dylan’s instincts took over, spurred on by a cold fear.
“Hey, hey, wait,” she said, hurrying after Ramona and grabbing her arm at the top of the porch stairs.
But Ramona pulled back, forcing Dylan to drop her hold and lift her hands in surrender.
“Hey,” Dylan said again. “It’s just me.”
“Is it?” Ramona said, her eyes filling with tears.
“What are you talking about?”
They were attracting attention, crew members and cast alike. Blair was in the yard, all gussied up for the scene in a classic black strapless dress. She frowned in their direction, as did Gia, who was talking to one of the sound technicians. Still, Dylan couldn’t walk away, couldn’t leave this for later, no matter how much she knew she should. Ramona was looking at her like she didn’t even recognize Dylan.
“What happened?” Dylan asked. “What’s wrong?”
Ramona shook her head. “Dylan.”
Dylan just blinked at her, reached for her hand. “What? Baby, please—”
“Don’t,” Ramona said, pulling her hand away. “Don’t call me that. Let’s just—”
“Then tell me what’s wrong.”
Ramona sighed, then finally looked at her. “You really want to do this here?”
“Yes. Whateverthisis. Yes, I want to do this here.”
Dylan’s internal alarms were blaring, crimson light circling through her whole body.
Stop.
Do not proceed.
Red. Red. Red.
But she’d never been able to handle strong emotions with a level head, withcaution, especially this kind, when she didn’t even know what the emotions were. Her early life with her parents had triggered an almost constant state of fight or flight in her day-to-day functioning, never knowing what was coming next, and that uncertainty was like a cancer eating away at her heart, her thoughts.
“Fine,” Ramona said, turning to face her, her arms folded. But then her expression crumpled, her eyes red-rimmed.
Dylan’s heart collapsed in on itself. “Ramona,” she said softly, stepping closer and cupping Ramona’s elbows gently. “What is—”
“Did your publicity team tell you to date me?”
The words didn’t make sense at first; they were the last thing Dylan expected Ramona to say. And then…they made far too much sense.
“What?” Dylan asked, even though she knew. She knew, and panic had replaced all of her cells. Because this wasn’t right, this wasn’t how this day was supposed to go. This wasn’t how Ramona was supposed to ever feel, she wasn’t supposed to ever know—
Dylan’s swirling thoughts jolted to a stop.
She wasn’t supposed to ever know.
That was what she’d planned. Because she liked Ramona, wanted her, and now she realized how stupid she’d been. Howwrong.
“Ramona,” she said softly so no one else could hear her. “Let’s go somewhere and talk. Please.”
Ramona just laughed humorlessly. “I guess I have my answer.”
“Please,” Dylan said again. “I can explain.”
