With a simple girl who loved mushrooms.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done something like this. When she and Jocelyn were together, everything was a show. They couldn’t go out for sushi without ending up on Page Six or TMZ the next day, or on some random person’s Instagram. And they never even tried to do things like this, quiet things, things where the two of them became Jo and Dylan, instead of Jocelyn Gareth and Dylan Monroe.
But right now, Dylan Monroe was fiction, a character, and Dylan…she was just Dylan.
She never wanted it to end.
“You and your sister are close?” she asked Ramona.
“Oh, yeah,” Ramona said. “Our mom left the summer I was thirteen. Olive was only a baby, so I’ve pretty much helped raise her. Then my dad got injured my freshman year of college, so I came home to help out. Been here ever since.”
Dylan slowed, tilted her head at Ramona, whose expression was pretty placid. “That sounds tough.”
Ramona shrugged. “I wouldn’t change it.”
They were silent for a bit, angling around the lake through the trees. They didn’t pass anyone, as though Ramona had made sure to take them on the less beaten path.
“What were you going to study in college?” Dylan asked.
Ramona faltered for a second, gazing out in front of her, a frown pushing her brows together.
“Design,” she said finally.
“Really? What kind?”
Ramona looked down, fingered the hem of her pink shirt. “Apparel,” she said quietly, as though she was embarrassed.
“I can see that,” Dylan said.
Ramona met her gaze. “Really?”
“You have that air about you.” Dylan waved her hand around Ramona’s form. “Effortlessly cool.”
Ramona laughed, her cheeks going a little pink. “Wow, I must really be on my game today.”
“I think you are.” Dylan grinned at her, her own face warming a bit, another phenomenon that hadn’t happened to her in years—the flush that came with flirting.
Because they were definitely flirting.
Which absolutely could not happen. Dylan and a normie—no matter how much Dylan wanted to pretend she was a normie too at this moment—would be nothing short of disaster. She flung the idea out of her head, flattened the smile that had sneaked on her face, and focused on friends.
Friends.
She didn’t have any of those. Throughout her entire life, anyone she spent time with fell into one of three categories—colleague, employee, or romantic partner. Laurel was the closest thing she had to a confidant, and Dylan paid her handsomely for it.
Friendship…Dylan wasn’t even sure what that was. She had no idea how to just beDylanwith someone without theMonroeautomatically attached. Didn’t know how to parse the fact that Ramona hadn’t asked about her parents or being famous or the helicopter or if she was really going to unleash Killin’ Dylan on Jocelyn’s new girlfriend. Ramona was simply walking with Dylan in the woods like…well, like afriend.
“Hey,” Dylan said, stopping on the trail under a maple tree so green, it was nearly fluorescent.
“Everything okay?” Ramona asked, stopping too and facing her.
Dylan nodded, but her stomach roiled with nerves. She didn’t want to rush a friendship, knew enough that one couldn’t force it. But she was all fire and action, and didn’t always give herself the time she needed to process. Luckily, she had no clue whatactionwas required here, so she just asked a question.
“Can we do this again?” she asked.
Ramona tilted her head. “Do what?”
“Just…” Dylan waved her hand around at the scenery. “Normal stuff.”
