Car Ride

Julia zipped up the last of her sundress, smoothed her still-damp hair into a loose ponytail, and grabbed her keys from the dresser. Downstairs, Riley was already waiting by the garage door—backpack slung over one shoulder, phone in hand, scrolling with the bored impatience only a teenager could perfect. She’d thrown on ripped jeans, a cropped hoodie, and sneakers, looking every bit the rebellious senior who’d rather be anywhere else.

“Ready?” Julia asked, forcing brightness into her voice.

Riley shrugged. “Yeah. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

They climbed into the Urus, Julia behind the wheel, Riley slouching in the passenger seat with her feet propped on the dash. The engine purred to life; the garage door rumbled open. Julia pulled out onto the quiet suburban street, the morning sun already warm through the tinted windows. Silence stretched between them—thick, awkward, heavy with the morning’s chaos and everything unsaid.

Julia cleared her throat. “So… big day ahead? Any tests or anything?”

Riley didn’t look up from her phone. “Nope.”

More silence. Julia tried again. “I was thinking maybe we could grab smoothies after school sometime this week. Just us. Like old times.”

Riley snorted. “Old times were, like, when I was twelve. Pass.”

Julia’s grip tightened on the wheel. She could feel the headmaster’s command lurking in the back of her mind—convince her, make her text him—but every time she opened her mouth to steer the conversation that way, the words stuck. Instead she blurted, “You know… I used to be like you.”

Riley finally glanced over, one eyebrow arched. “Like me? Doubt it.”

“I was,” Julia insisted, eyes on the road. “Wild. Reckless. Partying. Boys. All of it. Before… before your dad, before everything settled.”

Riley laughed—short, disbelieving. “Okay then, Mom. How many cocks have you had at once?” She leaned back, smirking, clearly expecting Julia to sputter, blush, change the subject. It was meant to shut her down, to prove the point: You’re not like me. You never were.

Julia’s breath caught. The question hung in the air like a dare. She could lie. She could deflect. She could chicken out again.

But something snapped—maybe the accumulated weight of the day, the ****, the videos, the taste of cock still faint on her memory, the way her own body had betrayed her again and again. She was tired of pretending. Tired of the mask.

She kept her eyes on the road, voice steady. “Nine.”

Riley’s smirk froze. The phone slipped an inch in her hand.

Julia didn’t look over. “At once. When I was younger. College, mostly. A few parties got… out of hand. In the best way, at the time.”

The car filled with stunned silence. Riley’s mouth opened, closed. No laugh. No snarky comeback. Just wide eyes staring at her mother’s profile, the color draining from her cheeks as the truth landed like a slap.

Julia flicked on the turn signal, merging onto the main road toward Harvard-Westlake, the engine’s hum the only sound between them. Riley swallowed hard, phone forgotten in her lap, utterly speechless for once—shocked into silence by the image of her perfect, put-together mom not just admitting to a past, but owning a number that made Riley’s own rebellion feel almost tame.

Julia let the quiet stretch, heart pounding, wondering if she’d just broken something irreparable—or finally cracked the door open to something else entirely.