Page 57 of Dream On, Ramona Riley

“Knew you could do it,” she said.

Dylan shook her head. “I wasn’t so sure. But thank you. And thanks for your help. I don’t think I could’ve done it without you.”

“That’s not true at all.”

Dylan tilted her head. “I think it might be.”

Ramona didn’t know what to say, but her stomach was in knots, nervous and fluttery and a bunch of other emotions she couldn’t figure out. She still hadn’t fully processed that Dylan had remembered her from eighteen years ago, albeit belatedly. It felt incredible, honestly, and April would probably chastise her for thinking so little of herself, but she didn’t think that was it. It wasn’t that the famous Dylan Monroe remembered their teenage encounter—it wasthat they’d somehow found themselves at Mirror Cove again after all this time. It felt magical, and, at the same time, inevitable. She didn’t dare use the wordfate, but she felt lighter somehow. Lighter than she had since Dylan showed up in Clover Moon. Lighter than maybe she had in a long time.

Ramona wanted to say as much, and she opened her mouth to tell Dylan how glad she was that they’d talked about it all, when she saw her.

Noelle Yang.

She was heading straight toward them, her salt-and-pepper bob sleek and perfect, a pair of maroon-framed glasses perched on her nose. A pale person with pink hair trailed behind her—an assistant, most likely.

“Dylan, good work,” Noelle said as she reached them.

“Thanks, Noelle,” Dylan said.

Ramona just stared. She knew her mouth was hanging open—Noelle Yang was five feet away from her—but she couldn’t seem to close it. The designer was gorgeous, yet unassuming and practical. She was stylish and simple and perfect.

“I need your apron,” Noelle said. “Vee here needs to clean it and then splatter it again for the diner scene tomorrow.”

“Right, yeah,” Dylan said, untying her apron.

“And don’t leave set in those clothes again,” Noelle said, waving at Dylan’s blouse and shorts.

“Sorry,” Dylan said.

“No worries. Just get them back to wardrobe ASAP.” Noelle’s eyes flicked to Ramona. “Cute dress,” she said, and then turned and walked away as Vee held out their hand for the apron.

Ramona stood there, agog, the wordsthank youarriving on her tongue far too late. Still, she shouted them after Noelle, so loudly and awkwardly Vee literally startled, and Noelle didn’t seem to hear Ramona anyway, her black-clad form already swallowed up by the crew.

“So,” Dylan said once Vee had left with the apron. “What’s on that normal-person list of yours?”

Ramona blinked at her, her processing time sluggish as she tried to remember what Dylan was talking about, what day it was, and how to spell her own name.

“What?” she asked. Her tongue felt too large for her mouth.

“The list you made the other day at April’s tattoo shop,” Dylan said. “I think it’s time for Llama Face.”

Ramona laughed, Dylan’s joke working to clear her mind. “Llama Face is sacred.”

“I haven’t reached sacred level yet?”

“I don’t know. It’s a pretty elite level.”

Dylan pursed her mouth, nodded. “Okay. What do I need to do to reach this god tier?”

Ramona felt her cheeks warm, and she tapped her cheek. “A hole in one.”

Dylan frowned. “A hole in one?”

“Putt-Putt,” Ramona said. “You get a hole in one at Dickie’s, and I’ll invite you into the Llama Face sanctum.”

Dylan grinned and stuck out her hand. “You’ve got a deal.”

“You’ve got tobe kidding me,” Dylan said.