Page 5 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies

The hum of the engine was the only white noise loud enough to drown out the words still echoing in my head.

Fake.

Manipulative.

Canceled.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

It had been almost two weeks since the rooftop party. Two weeks since Ava’s crocodile tears turned into my career combusting in real time.

Since sponsors dropped me, followers turned into enemies, and my name trended for all the wrong reasons.

#CancelRileywas the number one topic on Twitter for two days.

Two. Days.

In internet time, that’s basically a public stoning. But worse because it’s forever.

And I didn’t even fight back.

Didn’t post some desperate apology video from my kitchen in soft lighting.

Didn’t hire a crisis manager.

Didn’t go live on Instagram with fake tears and a ring light set to “redemption glow.”

I disappeared.

Because honestly? I didn’t have it in me to beg for forgiveness from people who had loved me for the version of myself they wanted to see. Not the one I actually was.

So here I was, flying to nowhere.

Medford, Oregon.

Population:Please Leave Me Alone.

It wasn’t home. Hell, no. I hadn’t had one of those in a long time. But it was something else, an escape hatch. A quiet space between disasters.

All thanks to Lucy.

We hadn’t spoken much over the past year, not since life got loud and messy and full of too many filters. But when I finally worked up the nerve to reach out, to text her from my bathtub while drowning in sponsored rejection emails, she replied in under three minutes.

I had to reread the texts now, to remind myself I wasn’t alone.

Just because LA was full of Avas didn’t mean I had no one. My college bestie was the realest person I’d ever met in my life.

Riley >>I know it’s been a minute. And I know I don’t deserve it. But I’m drowning, Lu, and I don’t know who else to call.

Lucy >>Where are you right now?

Riley >>LA. My apartment. Until I’m kicked out. I’m sure you’ve seen the online stuff.

Lucy >>No?? But it doesn’t matter. Come here. Seriously. Hide out in Medford. It’s dead. You’ll love it. You don’t have to explain anything. Just come.

Riley >>Are you sure? I’m a walking PR nightmare. You don’t need that kind of disaster energy in your life.

Lucy >>Come on! You’re my best friend. You could show up with a tabloid tail, and I’d still throw you a blanket and a glass of wine. Also, I miss you, and you know I don’t care about any of that shit.

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