Dylan sighed once they were safely out of view and on the road back to town, head flopping against the headrest. “I’m so sorry that happened.”
“It’s not your fault,” Ramona said. “I’m sorry—I know you don’t like showing up on the gossip sites.”
Dylan sighed, angled her head toward Ramona. “I’m not sorry for me. I’m sorry for you.”
Ramona frowned, her hand tightening on the wheel. “What do you—”
Who’s your friend?
Are you two dating?
“Oh,” she said.
“Yeah,” Dylan said. “Oh.”
Chapter
Fifteen
The next day,Ramona had to be at the diner earlier than usual. The first café scene was being filmed later in the afternoon, and Owen had asked for help getting things set up—or rather, clearing away all the stuff he didn’t want the movie people to mess with. He’d insisted on serving breakfast as normal too, so there would be plenty to clean and arrange.
Also, it was Saturday, so Olive and Marley had begged Ramona to let them come along and help, excited to get a glimpse of a real movie set. Ramona wasn’t sure how much actual help they would be, but she agreed, as long as they got out of the way when told.
Ramona stepped out of her room around seven, her stomach already in flight. She wasn’t sure why—she didn’t expect she’d get to be on set while they filmed, and while she hoped for an actual introduction to Noelle Yang sometime soon, she couldn’t stop thinking about yesterday with Dylan.
Nothing about the two of them had shown up online so far. Ramona had checked sites like TMZ and theHollywood Reporterevery ten minutes last night. She had no idea how she felt about any of it. She certainly didn’t want to end up in the papers or websites or Instagram Reels, but…
Are you two dating?
She couldn’t get the question out of her mind. It was just so…preposterous. Silly. Impossible and ridiculous and…
Well, wasn’t it?
She shook her head, focused on the day ahead. Smoothed her hands down her light-wash jeans, straightened the multicolored floral blouse she had tied at her waist. She headed down the hall to make sure Olive was awake, knocked on her door before turning the knob carefully.
“Hey, baby girl, are you—”
“Ramona, Jesus,” Olive said. She sat on her bed with a bright orange shoebox in her lap, her hands holding what looked like a photograph, though Ramona couldn’t tell what it was of before Olive dropped it back into the box and stuffed the lid on top.
“Sorry,” Ramona said, frowning.
“Most people wait for a ‘come in’ when they knock.”
“I didn’t think you were awake.”
Olive didn’t say anything, just stood up and slid the shoebox under her bed, then headed to her dresser to put on a silver necklace, the pendant featuring tiny spotted mushrooms, a gift from Ramona for her fourteenth birthday.
“You okay?” Ramona asked.
“I’m fine,” Olive said. “Just…you know. Last summer and all.”
Ramona all but melted. “Yeah. It’s a lot.”
Olive nodded. “Good a lot. But a lot.”
Ramona walked over to her, took the delicate chain Olive was struggling with, and fastened it around her neck. “You’re amazing, you know that, right?”
Olive rolled her eyes but smiled.
