A mother and son accidentally swap bodies and have to learn to understand each other in order to swap back in Freaking Friday.
Rebecca’s son, Colin, is on the verge of dropping out of college. Colin’s mom, Rebecca, has a hopeless love life. To make matters worth, mother and son keep bickering. What’s the universe to do but to swap their bodies?
Now Colin has to navigate his mom’s world in her curvy body and help her get the guy who’s been flirting with her at work.
Rebecca learns about the world from a young man’s perspective and has to help him get the girl he’s been too shy to ask out.
As they each try to do right by the other, they discover the pleasure of their new bodies, and learn that sometimes doing the right thing is also the fun thing.
Colin
Loud banging on my bedroom door startles me awake.
“Get up, Colin,” my mom calls from the hallway. “You’re going to be late for class.”
How does she keep track of my course schedule?
She keeps knocking on the door until I call out in a scratchy morning voice, “Okay, I’m awake! Jesus.”
Finally, some fucking silence. I blink awake slowly. There’s a crick in my neck from where I’ve fallen asleep half-sitting up but slumped against my headboard. My video game controller is still in my hand from the night before, the game paused at a dialogue screen. My mouth tastes gross and I don’t think I brushed my teeth last night. I’m still wearing yesterday’s shirt. My laptop is propped open on the bed and when I open it to start browsing, the porn video from yesterday begins to autoplay. A woman loudly moans before I can shut the window. I hope mom didn’t hear it.
I rise and stretch, my shoulders popping, before schlumping to the bathroom. I’m desperately in need of a haircut. My normally short hair is spilling down over my ears but not in a stylish way. I haven’t shaved in a week, hoping that the ragged patches of scruff will somehow come together in a way that makes me look rugged rather than homeless. No luck so far.
I go through my short routine. Toothbrush. Deodorant. Comb through my hair. Good enough.
Returning to my bedroom, I step over the detritus on the floor. Mom hates the state of my room and makes me clean up on a weekly basis. I don’t see why I should when no one ever comes here but me? She’s constantly exhorting me to put some effort into useless things like that.
I bend to swipe my favorite shirt off the floor—the black one with the cool concentric electric blue design—but I remember that this morning is one of my two classes with Morgan. I’ve been crushing on her all semester and I think we’ve been flirting but I’m too nervous to confirm by asking her out. Instead, I crack jokes and try to read any hints in her body language or how she speaks to me, hoping she’ll touch my arm in a way that lets me know she’s into me, or say something subtle like ‘I’m really into you’. Morgan has featured in more than a few of my fantasies.
Mom’s washed my laundry but I’ve just left it in the basket on my bedroom floor. Now I dig through for an outfit. A better tee shirt. Clean jeans.
My mom is already in the kitchen when I get downstairs. She’s dressed for work in her familiar outfit of a black skirt and white button-down top, the top button open to allow a hint of her—shudder—cleavage. Her high-protein cottage cheese and fruit bowl is already prepared. She’s always on some diet or other. Constantly battling her weight, though to me it doesn’t seem like she’s fat. Full figured, sure. Butto the extent that I think about her shape at all—which is never—she just seems…mom-figured.
I loom over her from behind, still half asleep, while she opens the fridge and hands me the milk without a word. Even with her heels on I’m a good foot taller than her.
I pour myself a bowl of cereal with milk and slouch at the table. Mom sips her coffee and does that thing where she hovers in the kitchen, debating how to tell me something to which I may react poorly to. I tense involuntarily.
“Did you fall asleep playing video games again?” Mom asks in a tone that suggests she’s joking-but-not-really.
“Yes.”
She sighs. “If you’re going to be serious about your classes you need to get a good night’s sleep.”
Here we go.
“I’m fine, mom.” Even as I say it I feel like a kid instead of a twenty year old.
“It’s just that these classes are expensive and if you’re not going to focus then you should save the money and find something else to do.”
“I’m doing fine,” I say. And I am. C’s are fine.
“Do you want to stay in college? Or are you just putting off adulthood for a few more years?”
It’s a good question. It’s what dad would have wanted me to do but is it what I want to do? What makes me so irritated is that mom might be right. I don’t know. Certainly my motivation for today is to see Morgan.
“Can we talk about this later?” I say, putting my bowl in the sink and grabbing my backpack.
“It’s always later,” she sighs.
“I’m about to go to class.”
“I just think we should have this talk soon.”
“We can have it the same time we have the talk about your boyfriend.”
“My boyfriend?”
“Jason.”
She blushes to the tip of her nose. A total tell. “We’re just work friends.”
“You talk about him a lot for just being work friends. Look, I don’t have anything against him but I’m a little old for a father figure.”
“Jason and I are just friends,” she repeats.
Now I’ve got her on the back foot and the conversation is no longer about me.
“Uh huh. What kind of benefits go with that?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know…” I make a series of random noises and finger gestures.”
She huffs. “We’re going to talk about this sooner or later.”
“Great, I choose later. Bye.” I hurry out the door and to the bus stop.
Living off campus with mom saves a lot of money but it means a thirty minute bus ride. I think I’m the only student in the whole university who still lives with their parents. That’s what it feels like, anyway.
The bus ride gives me plenty of time to catch up on the videos I missed overnight. It’s only when the bus deposits me at the edge of campus that I realize I should have finished my essay. I hurry to the lecture hall, plop down on a seat, pull out my laptop and hastily dash off a thousand words as other students file in. Writing is one of the few things that has always come easily to me. So easy it takes almost no effort. Maybe why I enjoy it.
As I hit send—seconds before the deadline—a voice to my right pipes up.
“Cutting it a little close there, Colin.”
My entire body blossoms with warmth. I smile up at Morgan. Jesus, she’s adorable. A perfect face. Soft nose. Piercing jade green eyes. Long, brunette hair spilling down her shoulders. Gentle lips. I wonder what it would be like to kiss those lips.
“I like to live on the edge,” I smirk, playing it cool even while every part of me aches for her.
She smiles. That gorgeous, perfect smile. A hint of white teeth. The little dimples.
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