Riddle Under the Neon Lights

The homecoming dance loomed like a personal Everest, and Jordan's palms were already sweating through their jeans. Being a sophomore with a crush on a senior was basically social suicide, but here they were, clutching a ticket like it might explode.

"You're gonna do it," Ty said, shoving Jordan toward the gym doors. "Or I'm telling everyone about that Tumblr account."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

Inside, the gym transformed into a swirling mass of neon lights and bass-heavy music. Jordan spotted Riley immediately—senior class president, track team captain, currently wearing a vintage fedora that somehow looked cool instead of ridiculous. The hat had become Riley's signature thing, like they were always cosplay-ready for 1940s noir.

But it was what stood next to the punch bowl that made Jordan freeze: a massive cardboard sphinx, leftover from some theater production, its painted eyes seeming to mock anyone who approached.

"Riddle me this," someone yelled, and suddenly it was a thing. People were lining up to ask the sphinx questions, treating it like some messed-up therapy session.

Jordan's brain short-circuited. Riley was walking toward the sphinx, probably about to say something smooth and clever. This was it—the moment to make a move or die trying.

They stepped forward, knees threatening mutiny. "Hey, Riley."

Riley turned, dark eyes reflecting the spinning disco ball. "Jordan, right? You're in my AP Bio class."

"Yeah, that's me." Jordan's palms were so slippery they could practically ice skate. "So, what's your sphinx riddle?"

Riley laughed, adjusting that stupid hat. "Okay, here's one: what walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three in the evening?"

"A human," Jordan blurted. "Crawling, walking, cane. My little cousin's mythology phase was rough."

For a second, Riley just stared. Then they smiled—like, really smiled, not the polite ones they gave teachers. "Well played." They reached out, palm extended. "I'm Riley, by the way. Not just 'that senior with the hat.'"

Jordan shook their hand, trying to ignore how their own palm was probably leaving marks on Riley's fingers. "Jordan. Not just 'that sophomore who stares at you in bio.'"

Riley's eyebrow shot up. "You think I don't notice?"

The bass dropped, but Jordan's heart was already somewhere in the stratosphere.

"I noticed you too," Riley said, voice dropping lower. "You're always drawing in the margins of your notes. Saw your sketchbook once when you left it behind. You're really good."

Jordan's face burned. They hadn't realized Riley had been looking back.

"So," Riley continued, that fedora tilted at a dangerous angle, "you want to get out of here? There's this diner down the street..."

The sphinx seemed to wink in the flashing lights. Sometimes riddles weren't about ancient myths or clever wordplay. Sometimes the answer was just showing up, sweaty palms and all, and realizing the person you thought was out of your league was actually just waiting for you to say hello.