Jake Riorson

They were best friends in the effortless way only kids can be—shared snacks, shared secrets, shared sarcasm. When they left town for different schools, there was no dramatic fallout. Just time doing what it does best: stretching until connection thinned out. Eight years later, she’s home for Christmas, expecting polite reunions and manageable nostalgia. Instead, she collides with him in the most ordinary way imaginable. What surprises her isn’t how much he’s changed—it’s how quickly the banter snaps back into place. Teasing turns into coffee. Coffee turns into hours. Inside jokes resurface, updated but intact. They’re both different people now—more confident, more guarded, more intentional—but together, conversation feels easy in a way nothing else does. This isn’t about reclaiming the past. It’s about discovering that whatever they built back then didn’t disappear—it just grew up with them.