“No, he said paparappi.”
“Oh my god, why is he so cute?”
Ramona shook her head. “Anyway, it was fine. We had so much fun—”
“I mean, nothing spells romance like fungi.”
“But I’m not even sure I…”
Ramona sighed while April lifted a brow.
“You’re not sure you what?” April asked.
“I just…” Ramona picked a pack of white sheets with tiny purple flowers all over them. “She’s Dylan Monroe.”
“Oh, is that her name?”
“She’s famous, Apes. She’s not like me. And she’s leaving at the end of the summer.”
April groaned. “Not everything has to end in wedding bells, Llama.”
“No, I know, I just…”
But Ramona wasn’t sure how to end the sentence. Truth was, she was supremely disappointed—and a little embarrassed—when her father crashed the end of her date, but she’d spent the entire night and this morning convincing herself it was for the best. Not that she was opposed to a kiss or two, but Dylan wasn’t like Logan. She was…Ramona didn’t know. But she wasn’t Logan.
“Let me ask you this,” April said as Ramona put two packs of sheets in the cart. “While you were mooning over mycelium, did it feel like you were with a famous person, or did it just feel like you were with a person?”
Ramona opened her mouth but closed it quickly. Other than the brief moment with everyone staring at them—and Dylan smiling and waving like Hollywood royalty—she never even thought ofDylan’s fame again. Didn’t have to, because Dylan was just…Dylan. NotDylan Monroe, or Killin’ Dylan, or Jack and Carrie’s wildling. She was a girl who’d meticulously planned a date for Ramona. She was romantic and sweet and…
Ramona liked her.
Goddammit, she did.
“That’s what I thought,” April said.
“Oh, shut up,” Ramona said, laughing, but then grew serious and took April’s arm. What she’d said about April’s failed engagement in Owen’s office yesterday still weighed on her mind. “Hey.”
“Hey,” April said slowly, lifting her brows.
“You know I love you, right?” Ramona said. “And I support whatever you want or feel or think, and however you process what happened with Elena. Always.”
April’s eyes went a little soft. “I know, Llama Face.”
Ramona squeezed her arm. “I want you to believe in you too.”
April’s expression dipped, but just for a second before she grinned. “There are few things I believe in as strongly as my badass self,” she said, before pinching Ramona lightly on the cheek and then pushing the cart to the next aisle.
Ramona huffed a laugh as she followed her, but she’d barely rounded the corner when she smacked right into April’s back. April had gone stock-still, blinking at a person in front of her.
“Leigh?” April said.
“April, oh my god,” the person said. They were thin, and had brown skin and wild dark curls, hair cut short on the sides. They had on torn jeans and white sneakers, a worn band tee. “Ramona, hey. Should’ve known I wouldn’t see one of you without the other.”
Ramona smiled at Leigh Reynolds, who was now standing in the comforter aisle at Target, a navy quilt in their arms. April launched herself into Leigh’s arms.
Leigh Reynolds had been their friend in high school. Therewere only a handful of out queer kids in their class, so the three of them had naturally flocked together, moving as a pack through their four years at Clover Lake High. Leigh was a lesbian, nonbinary, and had also been April’s first sexual experience. She’d slept with Leigh when she was seventeen, continued to sleep with them until she met and fell in love with Elena, and now here they were again.
Ramona could never quite keep it straight, to be honest, because Leigh Reynolds was a fuckboi and knew exactly how to get into any girl’s pants they wanted to, with enthusiastic consent. Ramona had never gone that route—she hadn’t had the time, despite the fact that Leigh was empirically hot—but April couldn’t resist.
