Page 117 of Dream On, Ramona Riley

“Yeah,” Dylan said, resting her hand on Ramona’s head.

They lay there like that for a few minutes before Ramona lifted her head, their eyes meeting and watching each other.

“Come up here,” Dylan said.

Ramona got up, took out her toy, and set it at the end of the bed. Then she crawled onto the mattress, aligning herself with Dylan’s body. Dylan pulled the covers over them, then wrapped her arms around Ramona’s waist.

She needed her close.

She kissed Ramona’s nose, tucked her head beneath her chin.Her heart was still going a bit wild in her chest, but it felt larger than it did before, a river swollen with rain. This might be the safest she’d ever felt. The healthiest. This moment, this bed, in Ramona’s bedroom. There were so many things pressing in on her—her parents, the movie, her career, Laurel and Rayna’s constant plotting and rearranging of her image—but none of that mattered right now.

Nothing mattered but Ramona and Dylan.

Cherry and Lolli.

Dylan felt invincible with Ramona in her arms like this, and at the same time, soft. Like light and water and air.

“I don’t want to be an idiot with you,” she said, mouth pressed against Ramona’s temple.

Ramona’s arms tightened around her. “I don’t want to be an idiot either.”

“You could never,” Dylan said.

Ramona lifted her eyes to Dylan’s, her mouth dropping open to say something. Instead, she kissed Dylan, just once, then buried her face in Dylan’s neck. Soon, her breathing became steady, but Dylan stayed awake, listening to Ramona sleep, fingers trailing through her hair.

Chapter

Twenty-Nine

Dylan was stillfast asleep, arms splayed above her head like a little kid, when Ramona heard Olive come home.

It was morning, light streaming through the blinds, and Ramona had been awake for a good half hour, her brain too busy to sleep any more. As carefully as she could, she worked her way out of the covers, then scooted to the end of the bed so as not to wake Dylan. She grabbed her robe from the back of her door, tied the terry cloth sash around her waist, then sneaked down the hall to Olive’s room.

She knocked.

Waited.

Knocked again.

“Fine,” Olive said.

While not the warm greeting she was hoping for, Ramona took what she could get, cracking open the door to find her sister sitting on her bed, scrolling through her phone.

“Hi,” Ramona said.

“Hi,” Olive said, deadpan.

“Did you have fun?”

“Sure.”

Ramona sighed, stepped farther in, and closed the door. “Ollie.”

“Look, it’s fine,” Olive said. “I don’t tell you everything either.”

Ramona wasn’t sure how to process that. She’d always assumed Olive did in fact tell her everything, because that’s the way she and Olive had always been. They were Lorelai and Rory fromGilmore Girls, complicated parental issues and all, granted without the teen pregnancy and Lorelai’s constant horrible decisions.

Ramona had spent the last twelve years trying to be the best big sister, best mother, and best friend Olive could possibly want, but she knew she’d failed. Because she couldn’t be all of that to one person, all the time. Sometimes, she’d had to get angry with Olive. She’d had to back up their dad when he grounded her. She’d had to fuss at her about homework, pick up her gross softball socks from the living room floor, and she’d had to show Olive how to use a condom, just in case. But Ramona didn’t know if Olive had ever actually used a condom. Olive had never told her either way, but that didn’t mean no, because Ramona was the mom.