Following Riley

Riley stepped out of the Urus, slamming the door with her usual dramatic flair, backpack slung over one shoulder. The morning sun glinted off the Harvard-Westlake campus gates as she waved half-heartedly at Julia through the tinted window—“See ya, Mom. Don’t go full cool-mom on me too fast”—and turned toward the main entrance. Julia’s confession still buzzed in her head like static: nine guys at once, the basketball team basement story, the casual way her mom had dropped it like it was no big deal. It was weird. It was kind of hot. It made Riley feel… seen, in a way she hadn’t expected. Like maybe her mom wasn’t just the uptight housewife she’d always assumed.

She spotted her two best friends—Sofia and Mia—lounging against the low brick wall near the fountain, iced coffees in hand, scrolling TikTok. Sofia saw her first and waved her over with an exaggerated arm swing.

“Ri! You’re late. We were about to send out a search party.”

Riley dropped her bag at their feet and leaned against the wall between them. “Blame my mom. She decided today was the day to have a heart-to-heart in the car. Dropped some bombs.”

Mia’s eyebrows shot up. “Like what? Did she finally catch you sneaking out last weekend?”

Riley smirked, lowering her voice even though no one was close enough to hear. “Nah. Better. I told her I wanted a back tattoo and nipple piercings if I stay out of trouble this year. Thought she’d freak. Instead she was like, ‘Deal. If you’re good, I’ll pay for it.’”

Sofia choked on her coffee. “No way. Your mom? The one who lost it when you got that tiny nose stud freshman year?”

“Swear to God,” Riley said, pulling out her phone to show the text thread from earlier. “She even said she used to be wild back in the day. Like, really wild. Told me she got passed around by five basketball players in college. At once.”

Mia’s mouth fell open. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m serious. She said nine at once was her record. I almost died, but then I realized she wasn’t joking. Mom’s got a past.”

Sofia leaned in, eyes wide. “That’s… iconic. Your mom’s low-key a legend now. Does this mean you’re off the leash?”

Riley shrugged, but a grin tugged at her lips. “Kinda. She’s driving me to school, talking about smoothies and ‘be safe’ but in a chill way. It’s weird. Good weird.”

The first bell rang. They grabbed their bags and headed inside, the conversation shifting to classes and weekend plans as they split off toward their lockers.

The day dragged in the usual way: AP Lit lecture on symbolism that made Riley doodle dicks in her notebook margins, calc where she zoned out staring at the clock, PE where she dominated dodgeball and earned a fist-bump from the coach. She kept her phone on silent but checked it obsessively between classes—no texts from the mystery number yet, but the eggplant emoji she’d sent her mom still sat there like a promise. Every time she thought about the “cute guy” Julia had supposedly met, her stomach did a little flip. Tall, handsome, dark, kind of dangerous, thought they were sisters. And her mom had gotten his number for her. Actual mom-pimping. Wild.

By lunch, Riley was restless. She grabbed a salad and iced tea from the café line and joined Sofia and Mia at their usual outdoor table under the pergola. The three of them picked at their food, gossiping about who was hooking up with who, the latest drama in the senior group chat.

Riley pulled out her phone again, thumb hovering over the new contact her mom had texted her that morning: “Cute guy from yesterday.” No name, just the digits. She’d stared at it in first period, second, third—half-convinced it was a prank, half-hoping it wasn’t.

Sofia noticed. “You texting that guy your mom gave you?”

“Maybe,” Riley said, trying to play it cool. “She said he thought I was hot. Thought we were sisters. Kinda sus, but… I don’t know. Could be fun.”

Mia leaned over. “Do it. Worst case, he’s a creep and you block him. Best case, you get dicked down by someone your mom vetted. That’s next-level.”

Riley laughed, but her thumb hesitated over the message icon. She opened a new text to the number, stared at the blank field. What did you even say to a guy your mom hooked you up with? “Hey, my mom says you’re cute”? Too cringe. “Saw you checking me out yesterday”? Too forward.

She bit her lip, heart picking up speed. The idea of texting him—of flirting, maybe more—felt electric after the morning’s revelations. Her mom had lived wild; why couldn’t she?

She started typing: “Hey, this is Riley. My mom said—”

She stopped. Deleted it. Started again. Deleted. The cursor blinked at her, waiting.

Sofia and Mia watched, grinning.

“Come on, Ri,” Sofia teased. “Don’t chicken out now.”

Riley exhaled, thumb hovering over send. She wasn’t sure what she’d say yet—but she knew she was about to hit that button.