Riley lay in her childhood bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars she'd stuck to the ceiling in eighth grade. They were peeling now, hanging on by sheer stubbornness, which felt appropriate.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Again.
She'd made the mistake of checking the group chat twenty minutes ago, and it had been nonstop chaos ever since.
Hannah: Okay but WHO IS HE
Emily: Riley you can't just drop that bomb and disappear
Jenna: I need a NAME. And a BACKSTORY.
Ryan: Is he hot?
Mark: Ryan.
Ryan: What? It's a valid question.
Hannah: Riley if you don't answer in the next five minutes I'm calling your mother.
Riley groaned and pulled the pillow over her face. This was a disaster. A complete, unmitigated disaster of her own creation.
Her phone rang.
She peeked out from under the pillow. Hannah's name flashed on the screen, along with a photo from three years agowhen they'd gone wine tasting and Hannah had laughed so hard she'd snorted Chardonnay.
Riley let it ring twice more before answering. "Hi."
"RILEY MARIE MONROE."
"That's not my middle name."
"I don't care. Who is he?"
Riley sat up, rubbing her eyes. Through the wall, she could hear Tyler's music thumping—some bass-heavy thing that made the picture frames rattle. "I told you. Someone I've been seeing."
"For how long?"
"A few weeks."
"And you didn't tell me?"
"It's new, Hannah. I didn't want to make it a big thing."
"You made it a big thing the second you announced it in the group chat."
Riley winced. Fair point. "I panicked."
"Why?"
"Because of the stupid Naughty List! Everyone was going to spend the entire reunion asking me why I'm still single and if I've tried dating apps and—" She stopped herself, taking a breath. "I just didn't want to deal with it."
Hannah was quiet for a moment. Then she asked, "Is he real?"
Riley's stomach dropped. "What?"
"The guy. Is he real, or did you make him up?"
"Why would I make him up?"
