Ramona nodded.
“Do you have a lot of llamas ’round these here parts?” She put on an affected Southern accent.
“No,” Ramona said through a laugh. “But we took a field trip to a farm in the fifth grade that had llamas, and April said they looked like alien goats and they freaked her out, especially when they opened their mouths and made noises and stuff.”
“Opened their mouths,” Dylan deadpanned.
“So on the bus on the way back, I offered her some exposure therapy.”
“With a llama face.”
“Naturally,” Ramona said, smirking. “It worked too. She is no longer llama-phobic.”
“There’s got to be an official word for that.”
“We’ll look it up.”
Dylan pursed her mouth, watching Ramona intently.
Ramona widened her eyes as if to say,What?
“I need Llama Face, Ramona.”
“You’ll live,” Ramona said, lining up her club with her ball.
“I need it. Like air.”
“You’re breathing just fine.”
“It’s integral to my creative process for Eloise. Is it like this?” Dylan stretched her mouth open, top lip going one way, bottom going another. It was horrific and ridiculously cute.
Ramona swallowed her laugh, trying to remain stern. “Eloise would never be so uncouth.”
“She would be if she was sweet as honey whiskey pie and trying to cure her BFF’s llama phobia.”
Ramona cracked then, laughing and giving up focusing on her shot. She straightened up, then leaned on her club as she looked at Dylan, who was so adorable in her begging, Ramona couldn’t keep the smile off her face.
“Okay, maybe we can figure out a new deal,” she said. “But I—”
She cut herself off when she saw some other Dickie’s patrons a few holes ahead of them, a group of four. They were young, maybe college aged, and they were aiming their phones in their direction.
Well, inDylan’sdirection.
“What is it?” Dylan asked, then turned to follow Ramona’s line of sight, her smile dropping when she saw the oglers. “Ah, shit.”
“It’s fine,” Ramona said. “They’re just kids.”
“Yeah, armed with these little computers that connect them to every single person around the globe.” Dylan’s jaw was tight as she turned back, her cheeks a little red. “Let’s just play.”
“You sure?” Ramona asked.
Dylan nodded. “This is my life. If I let every single asshole with a phone keep me from doing what I wanted, I’d never leave my house.”
“I’m sorry. I thought Dickie’s would be safer.”
Dylan met her eyes then, her expression going soft. “It is. It’s as safe as it can get.” She waved her hands around to the otherwise empty golf course. “I’m still determined to see Llama Face.”
Ramona smiled, nearly giving in right then and offering it up, but she had to admit, she liked this push and pull. This…flirting.
