“Long-haired Chihuahuas are cute,” Ramona finally said.
“You think so?” Dylan asked. “Anyone I’ve ever told that to immediately winces and starts talking about hyperactivity and how they hate little yippy dogs or some other reason why I shouldn’t like them.”
“You should get to like whatever you like,” Ramona said.
Dylan watched her—head down, eyes on the grass, her hands in the pockets of her light-wash jeans. Her hair was pulled halfwayback with a clip that had mushrooms all over it, and the sun sparkled on the deep brown, igniting a few red tresses.
Date her.
Dylan shook her head. Goddamn Rayna.
She couldn’t.
Ramonawouldn’t.
Except as she glanced at Ramona again, her stomach flipped and flopped like a preteen with a first crush. Granted, she knew she had a crush on Ramona—she was cute and sweet and smart, and crushes were all well and good, but she hadn’t planned to do anything about it. And she certainly hadn’t planned to do anything about it that provided a story for the gossip sites.
Hell, no.
“What?” Ramona asked, and Dylan realized she’d protested out loud.
“Nothing, sorry,” she said, staring at the grass. Luckily, they reached Lake Street just then, and Clover Moon café was in view. Dylan picked up her pace, needing nothing more than to lock herself in a bathroom for some solitude.
As they left the cover of the trees, coming out into the open of the busy summer morning, the townsfolk and tourists…well, they noticed.
Of course Dylan was used to pulling glances wherever she went, but this was different. This was accompanied by whispers and crooned greetings toward Ramona, with knowing smiles and eyes shifting down to her fingers to see if they were tangled with Dylan’s.
And dammit, Dylan was so close to taking her hand. Just to spite everyone. Show Ramona off as exactly her type—she couldn’t believe that one post said she wasslumming it—but she knew that would just lead to more pictures of the two of them together, and—
Latching yourself publicly to an actual small-town girl can onlyhelp you at this point, particularly with the news of Jocelyn and Ruby’s engagement…
She sped up even more, claiming too much coffee this morning as she left the group behind and hurried into Clover Moon. The place went comically silent when she walked in, silverware clattering to plates and gasps emitting over coffee cups, but she just smiled and hurried to the single, gender-neutral bathroom in the back.
Locked herself inside.
The farmhouse decor with its hardwood floors and rose-colored glass globes around amber lighting was lovely, but Dylan barely noticed, because she did the worst thing she could possibly do in that moment and got on her phone. Googled Jocelyn Gareth. She didn’t even need to put in Ruby’s name, as the search engine autofilled it for her. She clicked on the first article.
Jocelyn Gareth and Ruby Chopra announced their engagement this week, as though the four-carat, vintage diamond on Ruby’s hand didn’t give it away. The happy couple doesn’t have a date in mind quite yet, according to Jocelyn’s manager, but the two have plenty to keep them busy. Ruby is slated to star in a romantic period piece, while Jocelyn will be entering the recording studio to lay down her debut album. Hollywood was delighted when the actress announced her musical ambitions, and even more so when she revealed that she’d signed with Evenflow Records, a company founded by rock legend Jack Monroe. Monroe still remains active in artist selection and production. One can’t help but wonder at the connection between Jocelyn’s latest creative endeavor and her fiery ex, Jack’s daughter, Dylan Monroe. Regardless,Hollywood rejoices at these particular wedding bells, as the world is always in desperate need of another happy queer couple. Congratulations, Jocelyn and Ruby!
Dylan tossed her phone onto the floor, half hoping the damn screen would crack. She clenched her fists, but there was no fighting that hollowed-out feeling in the pit of her stomach, the very same one she experienced when she’d found out, hours before Jocelyn’s birthday party at the Mondrian’s rooftop pool, that her girlfriend of eleven months had been talking to her father behind her back, using her to get in his good graces, then sending him her demo, all without Dylan’s knowledge.
She didn’t give two shits about Jocelyn and Ruby’s impending nuptials. She did, however, give a shit about being reminded of Jocelyn’s betrayal and backstabbing. That was definitely not in her morning plans, but it wasn’t as though Hollywood would let her forget it.
A knock sounded on the door.
“Occupied!” Dylan said, and not kindly.
“It’s me.”
Dylan scrambled to unlock the door, then all but yanked her manager into the tiny space.
“You are never allowed to leave me again,” Dylan said.
Laurel laughed, tucked her hands in the pockets of her wide-legged black pants. She eyed Dylan’s phone on the floor. “Clearly you can’t be trusted.”
“I told you I couldn’t!” Dylan’s screech echoed off the walls.
“Okay,” Laurel said, presenting her hands, “you’re going to the bad place. Sit down and take a breath.”
