Cherry

by Lindsey Rosin

  “You’re welcome.” Savannah laughed back. “Whatever. Good for you.”

  “Yeah.” Emma nodded. And then she couldn’t help but add, “It was my first time. Well, my second time, but the first one was with Nick too, and it was just this past Saturday, so . . .” Emma could feel the blood rushing into her cheeks. She pushed her hair behind her ears just to give herself something to do.

  “Lucky guy . . . ,” Savannah said with a strange sort of bite in her voice.

  Emma couldn’t help but think Savannah sounded a little bit, well . . . jealous.

  * * *

  LAYLA could feel Logan’s phone buzzing in his front pocket.

  Layla and Logan were in the midst of a particularly heated afternoon make-out session. They’d gone off campus during their common free period to get lunch at the sushi restaurant at the bottom of the canyon near school. Off-campus privileges were one of the biggest perks of being a senior, and Logan and Layla liked to take full advantage, but today Logan’s phone would just not stop buzzing—and it was killing Layla more and more with each new vibration.

  “Do you need to answer that?”

  “Answer what?” Logan managed to ask without ­taking his tongue out of Layla’s mouth. Layla shook her head and refocused her attention on their kisses . . .

  . . . until another buzz interrupted them.

  And then another.

  Layla couldn’t take it anymore.

  They were in the backseat of his car, and she was sitting on his lap, and his phone was in his front pocket, and all the buzzing was just too close for comfort. “It’s nothing,” he insisted. But before they could resume their kisses, another flurry of text messages came pouring in.

  “Logan. Really. I need that to stop,” she said, squirming off him.

  “You don’t like the vibrations?” Logan teased.

  “I can only get so excited, knowing they’re from Vanessa,” Layla grumbled.

  “How do you know it’s her?” Logan asked as his phone buzzed yet again.

  “Seriously? There’d better be, like, a giant fire or something . . .”

  “No fire, she’s just . . .”

  “Oh, so it is her?” Layla said, thoroughly annoyed but also vindicated.

  “They’re printing the posters for the food drive,” Logan explained, “and they can’t decide if they should be vertical or horizontal, but Vanessa wants it to be in the shape of a can. She needs approval from the school board.”

  “Is that your problem?”

  “Not exactly, but I know what they’ll be expecting. Layla, I don’t know if you’re aware, but I’m actually president of the entire student body . . .”

  “Are you trying to tell me you’re important or something?”

  “Very important.” Logan smiled, flashing that dimple of his, but Layla still shook her head, not quite ready to let the Vanessa thing go. “Really?” Logan asked, recognizing the look on Layla’s face. “Don’t be mad at Vanessa. It’s my fault. I offered to help.”

  And there it was.

  Of course he had offered to help her.

  Logan was way too nice like that. He was always extra-offering and overextending himself, which was all fine and good for friends and teachers or whatever, but not for Vanessa.

  Layla knew that Vanessa didn’t want his help.

  She wanted him.

  “Look. It’s off.” Logan held up his phone for Layla to see. “Okay?”

  Layla nodded, even though she honestly didn’t feel okay.

  And then they went back to making out in the backseat of Logan’s car, but Layla couldn’t stop thinking about Vanessa, and, even worse, she couldn’t stop thinking that Logan might still be thinking about Vanessa too.

  * * *

  ALEX had apologized to Zoe almost a hundred times.

  She didn’t know what else to say.

  “There’s nothing to say,” Zoe said sharply, poking her California sushi roll with a chopstick.

  Alex looked over at Emma, who had just joined them and was now biting into a slice of pizza. She didn’t seem to be nearly as upset as Zoe was. Alex had called both of them last night and told them the truth about camp and Cameron and her virgin status. She’d been planning on telling them at school, but then after Emma’s fireworks and all the text messages that followed, Alex didn’t feel right about waiting any longer.

  Again, Alex had planned and God had laughed.

  Luckily, Emma had laughed a little bit too when Alex told her the truth.

  “You’re telling me I was actually the first one of us to lose her virginity? I totally would’ve lost that bet,” Emma had said. And then Alex apologized a few (dozen) more times, and Emma accepted all of her apologies, and the whole phone call was more or less painless.

  Zoe, on the other hand, didn’t take the news nearly as well.

  The first problem was that Zoe was hoping for a call from Dylan that still hadn’t arrived, so, admittedly, she was in a bit of a mood when Alex called. The second problem was that she was confused as to why Alex was calling in the first place. Alex said it just wasn’t a text message kind of conversation. Honestly, it wasn’t really a phone conversation either, more of an in-person sort of thing, but it was already past Alex’s curfew, and she didn’t want to wait until morning now that Emma had already had sex twice and orgasmed once.

  * * *

  ZOE was confused as to what Emma’s orgasms had to with anything.

  But, before she could ask for clarification, Alex had launched into a long apology slash explanation that started with: “I did not have sex at sleepaway camp.”

  Alex explained that it was all just a misunderstanding. She described all the technical difficulties. She insisted that she was just trying to protect Cameron and something about a Mona Lisa smile or whatever, and then she finished by adding that sometimes the truth feels more like a lie than an actual lie.

  Zoe could tell that the whole story made sense in Alex’s head.

  But to Zoe it mostly sounded more or less like bullshit.

  Zoe didn’t care about the other girls at camp. And she didn’t care about Cameron’s feelings either. Or Alex’s ego. Or any of that. All Zoe cared about was The Crew. And their friendship. And the balance that existed among the four of them . . .

  . . . but now she knew that Alex had been lying to them.

  For years.

  Alex said she was sorry.

  And all Zoe could say was “all right.”

  And then Dylan was finally actually calling, so Zoe got off the phone with Alex pretty quickly to talk to him. She honestly didn’t want to talk about it anymore, but now she and Emma were sitting at lunch with Alex, and Layla was off campus with Logan, and Alex wouldn’t leave the whole thing alone.

  “I just wish you weren’t mad at me,” Alex said, trying not to get frustrated.

  “I’m not mad—”

  “Or hurt. Or whatever you are—”

  “I don’t know what I am!” Zoe said more loudly than she expected. “You lied to all of us for two years. I think I should get more than twenty hours to process the situation.”

  “I swear I never meant to lie,” Alex said after a bit of silence. “I just need you to know that.”

  “That’s fine. And I do know that. But that’s still what ended up happening,” Zoe said sharply. “I spent the past two years believing something that wasn’t true. We all did. Whatever you actually meant to do, that feels shitty to me now.”

  “I’m sorry,” Alex said more softly this time. “But it was . . . a year and a half.”

  “What?”

  “Camp was only a year and a half ago. Not two years.”

  “Ohmigod, really? That’s what you want to fight about—”

  “I don’t want to fight about anything!”

  “Cool. So, what then? Now you’re worried about the accuracy of your story—”

  “Jesus, Zoe, I’m sorry! I should’ve told you what really happened as soon as it really didn’t ha
ppen, but I can’t exactly go back and change it now. And I know it sucks, but ­honestly, what happened with Cameron sucks for me too. I have these dreams about it, over and over, and they make me feel shitty every single time . . . but I guess I just figured there’d be another boy right away, and it would happen with him for real, and then the camp thing just wouldn’t matter—”

  “Of course it matters!” Zoe said, raising her voice. She could see that Alex wasn’t expecting such a big response from her, but she couldn’t help but get emotional. “What? Do you want me to say I wouldn’t care if I spent forever thinking you lost your virginity to someone when you actually didn’t? I care about everything that happens to you, Alex. And to Emma. And Layla. What you eat for lunch. What color running shoes you’re wearing. What kind of punctuation you use at the end of your text messages. Whatever it is, whatever you do—as long as it’s about you, I care. You don’t think I’d care about something as important as the first time you had sex?”

  “No, I know you would . . . ,” Alex said quietly.

  Zoe was sorry to have to be so forceful about it, but this was important to her.

  She could tell it was important to Alex, too.

  “Look,” Alex said after a quiet moment. “I’ve spent a lot of time since that night wondering why it didn’t actually happen with Cameron. And maybe the truth is that it didn’t happen for me then so it could happen for me now, along with all of you . . . Maybe we really were always supposed to do this together.”

  “But not together together . . . ,” Zoe managed to tease.

  “You know what I mean.”

  Of course Zoe knew what she meant.

  And the more she thought about it, the more she thought Alex might be right.

  144 days until graduation . . .

  LAYLA and Zoe stood at their lockers, packing their backpacks.

  It was Thursday afternoon. The girls were rushing—Layla was going to be late for the student council meeting, and Zoe should’ve been at musical rehearsal five minutes ago—but Layla still managed to notice a pack of senior boys walking down the hallway. They were loud and impossible to ignore.

  Right in the middle was Dylan.

  Layla nudged Zoe and nodded in his direction. She figured Zoe would be happy to see him, but instead, Zoe got shy and dropped her eyes down to her shoelaces. Layla looked back at Dylan and then back to Zoe again, feeling like she was watching the moment unfold in some sort of strange slow motion, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was even going to say hi to Zoe, let alone stop and have an actual conversation with her. Dylan managed to throw Zoe a sideways “hey” as he walked past, but he didn’t even break his stride. It was lame, as if he’d hurled the stupid little word across the hallway, and literally the least he could do.

  Zoe nodded back along with a nervous little half wave, which was similarly lame. “What was that?” Layla could feel the frown forming on her face.

  “Hm?” Zoe asked, playing dumb. She was still looking down at her feet, seemingly consumed by the ugly tile pattern on the floor.

  “Is Dylan always like that at school?”

  “Like what?” Zoe clearly wasn’t going to make this easy on Layla.

  “I don’t know . . . like . . . you don’t actually exist?” The words came out of Layla’s mouth before she fully realized how mean they must’ve sounded.

  “No, it’s . . . I think we just work best on the phone,” Zoe explained. Layla believed that Zoe believed that, and it might even be true, too, but Layla didn’t like it. Not one bit. “I know you all think that I must like him or he must like me or something since we spend all that time talking at night, but you can see it’s just . . .” Zoe gestured down the hallway. “It’s just not like that.”

  Layla could hear a dozen little emotional cracks in Zoe’s voice.

  She knew it wasn’t worth pushing back any harder, and Layla made a mental note to tell Alex and Emma to back off about the Zoe and Dylan stuff too. They all gave her a hard time about their phonefalls, but as long as Zoe was happy and being honest about what she really wanted from Dylan, Layla was going to support her in that.

  Layla and Zoe closed their lockers and walked down the hall together. As they rounded a corner, Layla was thrilled to see that Austin was waiting for Zoe at the entrance to the theater.

  She caught a glimpse of Zoe’s freckled face as it lit up.

  It was absolutely adorable.

  The only thing even more adorable than Zoe and all of her excitement was that Layla could see the very same glow on Austin’s face too.

  141 days until graduation . . .

  ALEX decided that the blotchy bruise on Zoe’s neck was fifty shades of purple.

  Zoe and Austin had gone on their second date last night, and apparently there had been a lot of sucking involved.

  “I just do not understand the point of a hickey,” Alex insisted.

  “Oh, me neither,” Emma agreed, “but then I also kind of like that there is no point . . .”

  “You would . . .” Alex laughed. “But, like, seriously . . . kiss my neck if you want to, sure, but why all the sucking? If a boy really wants to suck on something I can think of at least twenty other body parts that would appreciate it so much more . . .”

  “Twenty?” Zoe squeaked, clearly trying to wrap her head around that number.

  Layla pressed Zoe for more details about her date with Austin.

  They had gone to dinner and a movie at The Grove.

  He paid.

  And held her hand all night.

  But Zoe said that the best part happened on their way back to Austin’s car. (The girls were all relieved to hear that they had ditched the dad chaperone this time around.) Zoe and Austin had gone out of their way and ridden all the way up to the top floor of the parking garage, which had an absolutely magnificent view of the city. Austin wanted to be a lighting designer, so he appreciated a view like that more than most people did. And as they stood up there together looking at the view with his hands wrapped around Zoe’s waist, he had asked if she wanted to officially be his girlfriend.

  “Aw,” Layla said in her very Layla way.

  “Look at that . . . Zoe has a boyfriend.” Alex smiled.

  Zoe also had a happy glow on her face.

  The girls were all thrilled to see it.

  “How about you, Layla?” Emma asked. “Where’s your progress report?”

  * * *

  LAYLA was hoping someone might ask.

  She didn’t exactly have any progress, but there was a bit of a report.

  “Well, I, actually . . . I attempted to, um . . .” Layla swirled her spoon in her froyo and then realized that the visual might be a good way to communicate what she was trying to say.

  Zoe and Emma didn’t seem to notice, but Alex got the message loud and clear.

  “You masturbated?” Alex asked way, way too loudly.

  “Aaaaand we’re totally in public right now . . . ,” Zoe whispered.

  “Whatever. She didn’t masturbate in public.”

  Emma and Layla laughed.

  Zoe turned chartreuse.

  “How was it?” Alex continued, pressing Layla for details.

  “I don’t know,” Layla admitted, “and, honestly, I feel like a loser saying this, but it’s almost confusing. Like, what am I even supposed to really do?”

  “Well, you . . . you touch yourself,” Alex said matter-of-factly.

  “Yeah. That I understand, but . . . where? I mean where exactly?”

  “That’s exactly what you have to figure out,” Alex explained.

  “It’s just sort of wherever feels good,” Emma offered more sincerely.

  “Okay, but that doesn’t help me,” Zoe piped up. “Like, rubbing my shoulder feels good.”

  “I promise you’re not gonna get off from touching your shoulder.” Alex snickered.

  “Clearly, but that’s why I agree that it’s confusing.” Zoe returned her attention to her frozen yogurt, but then fel
t the need to add, “Not that I’ve tried . . .”

  “Just keep it simple,” Alex said. “Touch your boobs. Vagina. Butt.”

  “Butt? What? Do you touch your butt?” Zoe squeaked, looking to Emma.

  “No.” Emma laughed.

  “For the record, me neither,” Alex said. “I’m just saying: erogenous zones.”

  “I don’t even know what that means,” Zoe admitted.

  “An area of the body that has heightened sensitivity,” Layla said, explaining that she had just read an article in the Sex Doc about it. “It said to mostly focus on the clitoris.”

  Layla realized that might’ve been the first time she’d ever said “clitoris” out loud and officially decided it was the most awkward sounding word in her vocabulary.

  “Sounds awkward, yeah . . . but feels amazing,” Emma whispered.

  “Yeah . . .” Layla grinned. “Apparently there are all these different techniques, like for rubbing or stroking or tapping it or whatever . . .”

  “Tapping?” Zoe asked.

  “Yeah, I dunno . . .” Layla said. After reading the article, Layla had concluded that the masturbation options were endless, and intimidating—all of it was nearly enough to stop her from trying before she’d even gotten started . . . but, she somehow managed to get over her fear of embarrassing herself in front of herself and had attempted to masturbate last night.

  But . . . there were no fireworks.

  “Not even close,” Layla added.

  “Well, A for effort.” Emma laughed.

  “Honestly, probably more like a C for effort.” Layla laughed back.

  Another article Layla read in the Sex Doc said it might take weeks of experimentation before even getting close to fireworks, and that it was a good idea to allow about thirty to forty minutes of time per session, so as not to feel rushed. Layla only lasted about five minutes before she’d given up.

  “Ohmigod.” Zoe squirmed.

  Layla laughed. She was impressed how long Zoe had managed to go without squirming.

  “Zoe, I’m sure you’d figure it out if you tried,” Alex said sincerely.

  “It’s really just like pizza, I swear,” Emma said, causing everyone to laugh.