She probably already had.
“All right, people,” Gia called out. “Let’s try to get this done in one take. My wife is coming into town, and I’d rather not bore her all night complaining about the incompetence of my actors.”
Dylan barely registered the dig—surely meant for her alone,despite the fact that there were four actors in this scene, when Mallory’s boat shoe–wearing brother wanders into the diner with his girlfriend.
“Inspiring as always,” Blair said.
Dylan managed a smile, her fingers still gripping her phone. She tapped on Ramona’s name in her messages.
I’m so sorry, she texted.
It was paltry, maybe not even worth sending, but she had to do something.
“Dylan,” Gia said. “Phone away. Let’s go.”
Dylan hit send, then tucked her phone out of sight so she could work.
Four hours later,Dylan all but ran out of Clover Moon, her phone pressed to her ear. Gia was pissed—they did not, in fact, get the scene done in one take, but seven—and Ramona hadn’t texted Dylan back, leaving her on read, which made Dylan’s stomach feel as though it were full of writhing snakes.
“Laurel, what the actual fuck?” Dylan asked when Laurel answered her phone.
“It wasn’t me,” Laurel said.
“Well, it sure as hell was someone.” Dylan crossed the street, stopping near the square and the gazebo. It was early evening, the sun just starting to dip into the lake, downtown’s lights spreading a golden glow over the twilit sidewalks. People filled the streets, heading to dinner or getting ice cream, shoulders bared to the warm air.
“Dylan, it’s a good story,” Laurel said.
“It’smystory,” Dylan said. “And Ramona’s. Not some publicity stunt, and I—”
“You’reina publicity stunt, Dylan,” Laurel said. “The secondyou asked that woman out. In all my time with you, I’ve never seen more serene pictures of you on the internet. Never. You didn’t resist them. You didn’t put up a fight like you usually do. You didn’t tell them all to fuck off and get a life. You’re telling me you didn’tknowcameras were on you at that museum?”
Dylan sent her hand through her hair, pulling at the strands until her scalp stung. She sank onto a bench, kept her face down as people passed by, her name whispered into the air.
“Is that what you’re telling me?” Laurel asked again.
“No,” Dylan said softly.
“I didn’t think so,” Laurel said just as softly.
Dylan exhaled. “Was it Rayna?”
A pause. “Probably.”
“But you told Rayna,” Dylan said. “Why the hell would you tell Rayna?”
“She called to check in about you and Ramona. I told her I didn’t think it would be a problem as you already had a romantic history.”
“Fuck, Laurel,” Dylan said, pressing her thumb and forefinger into her eyes. “We were thirteen. Thirteen-year-olds don’t have romantic histories!”
“You do now,” Laurel said. “And like I said. It’s a good story. It’s sweet and innocent, and let’s be honest, you could use a bit of both.”
Dylan shook her head, but she knew everything Laurel said was right—itwasa good story. And of course Dylan knew cameras were on her and Ramona at the Earthstars Museum. Hell, she evenwavedat them, like she was on the fucking red carpet.
She checked her messages again—still nothing from Ramona.
“I’ve got to go,” she said, then ended the call before Laurel could use any of her usual tactics to calm Dylan down. Dylan didn’t want to calm down.
She just wanted to talk to Ramona.
