Page 54 of Dream On, Ramona Riley

Dylan groaned, but she felt a surge of relief at the subject change—that they could simplybewith this history between them. Plus, she really did need to focus on work. The clock was ticking, and Gia expected her to come back in less than an hour as an entirely different person.

“I’m fucking it up,” she said.

“You don’t seem like you’re having fun,” Ramona said. “At least from what I saw today.”

Dylan laughed, not happily. Despite being a little distracted lately after remembering everything about her and Ramona, she knew her acting problems went far beyond a first kiss memory. “An understatement.”

“Why not?”

Dylan shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“I think you do.”

“Oh, is that right?” Dylan said, glancing at Ramona. The wind whipped her hair into her face, that dimple pressing into her cheek as she smiled.

“Yeah,” Ramona said gently, then said nothing else, forcing Dylan to actuallythink.

“Goddammit,” she finally said. “You’re right. I do know.”

“So?” Ramona said.

“I just…” Dylan tucked her knees to her chest. “I don’t think I can do it. This role. I’m the bad girl. I’m the mess. I’m the character who fucks up relationships and has a disaster family. I’m not Eloise.”

Ramona laughed. “You don’t think Eloise is a disaster?”

Dylan opened her mouth, closed it. “I…No?”

“She’s a complete mess.”

“Is she?”

“God yeah.” Ramona adjusted, sitting cross-legged and facing Dylan now, leaning closer as she ticked off a list on her fingers. “Think about it. She grew up with a parent she couldn’t count on and always had money stress, she has these huge dreams for a flower shop she really has zero hope of achieving, she’s stuck in a town she loves, but love is tricky when you’re forced into it, you know? Like, she can’t leave. Has no means, no prospects. And the only girl she’s ever really loved is a rich heiress to a publishing empire who now wants her to pretend to be her girlfriend around her snobby family. She’s losing her shit here.”

Dylan blinked, Ramona’s passion and analysis stirring something in the center of chest.

Something exciting.

Something familiar.

But also, something a little sad, a little tender.

She studied Ramona, remembering what she’d said about her mother a few days ago in the woods, how she’d left when Ramona was—

Our mom left the summer I was thirteen.

“Oh my god,” Dylan said quietly.

Ramona frowned. “What? You don’t agree?”

“No, no, I do,” Dylan said, then turned to look at the lake, her throat thick and crowding her airway.

The tears on Cherry’s cheeks.

“Fuck,” she whispered.

“I know, it’s a lot,” Ramona said, scooting closer. “But come on, you can do this. You know what it’s like to have unreliable parents. To not have choices.”

Dylan’s eyes found hers. “So do you.”