Alex laughed.
She didn’t really want to, but she couldn’t help it.
“Maybe what I’m really trying to say is that I have way more control over what I do with my tongue,” Oliver said as he leaned in closer to Alex. His face was only a few inches away from her, but he was already all the way inside her head. At this moment the only thing Alex could think about was Oliver’s tongue and all the things he was saying with it—and then all the things he might be able to do with it . . .
After dinner Alex and Oliver spent a couple hours running around the arcade, playing as many games as they could. Alex was particularly good at Skee-Ball and Whac-a-Mole. Oliver racked up tickets on the basketball shot game. It was all fun and playful, and more or less innocent. They had their flirty moments, of course. And, as always, there was a lot of sexual tension between them, but they managed to make it all the way back to Oliver’s car without so much as a kiss on the cheek.
Oliver drove them home, winding his car along Mulholland Drive. The radio played softly, filling the silence between them as Alex replayed all the moments in her head where they had almost kissed. She counted seven just on the golf course alone . . .
Then her thoughts wandered and she noticed that Oliver’s right hand was resting on top of his right leg, while his left hand steered the wheel. Alex suddenly had the urge to slide her hand over and slip her fingers into his, but if Oliver thought kissing was intimate, she couldn’t imagine how he’d feel about holding hands.
He would probably prefer a hand job, she thought.
Of course he would . . .
But then she couldn’t help but think that maybe she’d prefer that too.
If she held his hand, that would raise all sorts of intimate questions. A hand job would raise his blood pressure, but then it would be over. It felt like that might just be simpler. Not that Alex was actually trying to do either one. The truth was, she didn’t want to hold Oliver’s hand or give him a hand job, but she couldn’t stop thinking about both options.
Without warning, Oliver veered off Mulholland and pulled to a stop at one of the lookout points with a glistening view of the San Fernando Valley down below. He turned off the car.
“What are we doing?” Alex asked.
“I have something for you,” Oliver said.
“And you want to give it to me here? Now?”
“What’s wrong with here and now?”
“I thought the whole point was to hang out somewhere besides your car . . .”
“We did that already.”
“Oh, okay. I get it.”
“You get what, Campbell?”
“You spent the whole night putting all of your charm points into my kindness machine, and now you’re done and . . . expecting sex to fall out.”
“I don’t know what a kindness machine is”—Oliver smirked—“but I think it’s fair to say that I’m hoping more than expecting.”
“I think it’s fair to say that’s not how it works,” Alex smirked back.
“I know, I know. I swear that’s not what I’m doing. You brought it up, not me. I just . . . I know you’re nervous about breaking the state record,” he said as if they’d talked about it before. They hadn’t. They’d barely even talked about the record itself, let alone all the pressure that came along with trying to break it. “But I want to say I believe in you. And I think you’re going to do it.” Oliver pulled a small box out of his glove compartment. He handed it over.
“I almost don’t want to open it,” Alex said, trying not to sound emotional. She couldn’t help but feel like the thoughtfulness of the box would be better than whatever was actually inside. But she knew Oliver wasn’t going to let her get away with that. She took a moment to breathe before pulling off the lid. Inside was a small silver star charm.
“It’s for your shoes,” Oliver explained. “You’re always lacing them up in here in the morning and sometimes you even remember to bring two of the same shoe . . .” He trailed off for a moment. “I don’t know. I just figured you could put it on your laces, and then we’ll both know it’s there when you break the record like the . . . star that you are.” Oliver waved his hand toward the windshield as he said the word “star,” gesturing to the view as if to say: See, this is why we’re up here in my car. It’s so we can see all the stars.
“Are you gonna say something?” Oliver asked after a quiet moment. For the first time all night, Oliver seemed unsure of her answer.
“I love it. Thank you. I just . . . I had no idea that you were such a giant cheeseball.”
“Campbell. No. Take that back now.”
“It’s cool. No one will believe me anyway . . . ,” Alex said, finding Oliver’s gaze. His eyes actually looked sincere. Alex could hold his eye contact for only so long before she had to look away. She knew if they looked at each other any longer they would start kissing.
“Is that your way of saying you don’t want to kiss me?” Oliver asked, totally inside Alex’s head again.
“I didn’t say that . . .” She could feel his gaze practically burning a hole in the side of her head. “You were right,” said added. “Kissing is more special.”
“Too special?” Oliver asked. It sounded like he was hoping for a no.
“I’m not sure yet,” Alex said truthfully.
“So . . . just sex, then?” Oliver teased.
“Ah yes. That is what you were hoping for after all . . . ,” Alex teased back.
“Can you blame me?”
Alex shook her head no. Then, she couldn’t help but ask, “How many?”
“What?”
“How many girls have you slept with?”
“Oh, okay . . . ,” Oliver said as if he expected they’d get here sooner or later.
“You don’t have to tell me—”
“Two.”
“Really?” Alex asked, trying to hide her surprise. That was about ten fewer girls than Alex had been expecting.
“I told you not to believe everything you hear,” he said, smirking. “Your turn . . .”
“Well, speaking of not believing everything you hear . . . I actually haven’t.”
“At all? What are you waiting for?”
Alex was surprised Oliver didn’t make a joke. He waited patiently as she considered her answer: The right person sounded corny. The right place and time sounded lame. Anything else she could think of to say felt like it would be a lie . . . until the truth snuck up on her. “I have to feel it,” she said, taking Oliver’s words about the intimacy of kissing and using them as her own.
It was a simple thought, but entirely true: Alex was waiting to feel it.
135 days until graduation . . .
LAYLA did not understand why Alex hadn’t just kissed Oliver in his car.
I can feel the sexual tension all the way from here, she texted The Chat the next morning.
That would’ve ruined everything, Alex texted back.
She attempted to explain that there was a delicate power balance between her and Oliver. She texted that she couldn’t let him get the upper hand or everything would be ruined. Layla wanted to text and ask what exactly it was that would be ruined (since it wasn’t clear what was going on between Alex and Oliver anyway), but that seemed like too practical of a question.
How blue were his balls? Layla asked instead.
I dunno. I didn’t look, Alex texted back. After a few seconds she added, Do you guys want to go to Trevor’s party with me tonight?
Layla didn’t really know Trevor except that he was the starting center on the basketball team. The party would probably be a lot of athletes and those sorts of kids she didn’t really know. Layla still might have gone anyway, but she already had plans to see a movie with Logan.
Emma texted that she had a family dinner but would try to meet up when she was finished.
Zoe said she was in. Actually, she texted We’re in—the “we” being herself and Austin, of course. Apparently they were a package deal now.
* * *
ALEX’s mom dropped her off at Zoe’s house around eight o’clock that night.
“Be home by midnight,” Alex’s mom said, as always, as if she were going to turn into a pumpkin or something if she didn’t make curfew. Alex wasn’t worried about that. She was glad to have someone to go to Trevor’s party with. Oliver had invited her to come, but that didn’t mean he wanted to go with her. He wanted to see her there, which meant she had to show up with someone else. Someone who wouldn’t mind being ditched almost immediately. Zoe and Austin were the perfect wingmen. Zoe even found them a ride to the party since her brother Joey was home from college for the weekend and already planning on going. A bunch of his friends from the track team would be there too. He offered to be the designated driver.
Alex walked up the front lawn toward the Reeds’ front door, but she made it only as far as the forest green Ford Explorer sitting in the driveway, because Joey was already in the front seat and ready to go. He was fiddling with the rearview mirror.
“Well, look who it is,” Alex said.
“Hi, Lexi,” Joey said, breaking into a grin.
Alex rolled her eyes. “No one calls me that anymore.”
Back in Joey’s junior year, when Alex was a freshman on the track team, some of the older guys had taken to calling her Lexi—as in sexy Lexi—because that rhymed, and teenage boys can be really clever like that sometimes.
“That’s a shame,” Joey teased.
“All the boys who thought I was sexy must’ve graduated already . . .”
“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true . . .”
“How’s the bay?” Alex asked, changing the subject.
“The best. I’m sorry to hear you’re going to school on the wrong side of it, but I imagine you’ll manage.” Joey ran his fingers through his reddish-brown hair as he launched into a whole love letter to college. As he spoke, Alex watched him closely: the way his lips moved and his deep brown eyes sparkled, the sweet way he pushed his thick plastic glasses back up onto his nose whenever they slipped down. Joey’s glasses were round and teal, and Alex couldn’t help but think that he was the only person on the planet who would look good wearing them.
The truth was that Joey didn’t just look good, he looked effortlessly good.
Back in high school his features had been softer. His face was rounder and his cheeks were fuller. His chubbiness was adorable, but now, all of his baby fat had given way to a more angular jawline and a longer, thinner face. It was as if he’d grown into his own appearance, like he’d gotten rid of the parts of his body he didn’t need. Now, Joey managed to look hot and also completely comfortable in his skin and his clothes and even his glasses without being cocky about any of it. And as a bonus, Joey’s good looks matched his sparkling personality.
“What’s happening, guys?” Zoe asked as she walked out of the house.
Alex realized that Zoe meant the question rhetorically, but the truth was she wasn’t entirely sure of the answer. Honestly, something was happening between her and Joey. Alex was leaning up against the car listening to Joey talk about life and college and everything, and she felt like she could’ve existed in that moment for the longest time. If Zoe hadn’t walked outside, and they didn’t have a party to go to, Alex couldn’t imagine why she would want to do anything else.
* * *
ZOE wasn’t oblivious to the situation.
And she certainly wasn’t an idiot. She saw the matching grins on Alex’s and Joey’s faces. But, rather uncharacteristically, they didn’t concern her.
In the past Zoe might’ve been insecure about her brother flirting with one of her best friends, but not anymore. She couldn’t blame him for looking at Alex that way—boys always did. And she couldn’t blame Alex, either. Zoe imagined that’s what she probably looked like whenever she looked at Austin. She felt funny admitting it, even only to herself, but the whole boy-girl attraction thing made so much more sense now than it had even just a few weeks before.
Zoe jumped in the backseat of the car and let Alex sit up front next to Joey. They were going to stop at Austin’s house in a couple of minutes to pick him up, so it made more sense for them to sit in the back together.
“Zo, you have the shortest little legs,” Joey said, adjusting the settings on the driver’s seat.
“Oh yeah. Thanks for letting me use your ride.”
“I’m just glad the car’s still in one piece,” Joey teased.
Zoe was a decidedly bad driver and avoided getting behind the wheel as much as possible. Normally, she rode the bus to school, but every day this week—ever since Sunday night when Dylan showed up on her doorstep and sat on her bed and handed her a mix CD—she’d been driving Joey’s car instead. Her laptop didn’t have a CD drive, and she didn’t want to listen to Dylan’s mix on her parents’ desktop computer in the living room, so the Ford Explorer was her only option.
The ‘ZOE GOT SOME’ Mix CD started playing as soon as Joey turned the car on.
“We don’t have to listen to that . . . ,” Zoe started to say, but it was too late. Joey was already turning the volume up.
“We don’t have to listen, but we most certainly will. This Mix has to be good, if it’s the reason you’ve been stealing my car all week.”
“Well, it’s perfect,” Zoe explained, “but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna like it—”
“‘Bootylicious,’” Joey said, laughing as the first song filled the car. “Dylan’s a Destiny’s Child fan?”
“It’s actually a genius first song choice. It’s a modern classic. The intro is perfect—and then the whole thing builds and crescendos in all the right places.”
“You’ve obviously thought about this quite a bit,” Joey said.
Yes, Zoe had thought about it.
And she knew Dylan had too.
And it was that precise combination of thoughtfulness that made Zoe appreciate the mix so very much. Even though Zoe mostly listened to pop songs and show tunes and Dylan liked rock and rap and EDM, he managed to pick twenty songs that he knew they would both love. And, as far as Zoe was concerned, he had put them all in exactly the right order from start to finish.
It had been only a week since Dylan gave her the mix, but Zoe had already listened to the whole thing on repeat so many times that she’d lost count of the exact number. Zoe felt like you could tell a lot about a person by the music they listened to. It was like a window into their soul. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to stop Joey from shuffling through all the songs on the mix, but she couldn’t help but feel like he and Alex were sitting inside her head—and heart and soul and all that—as they listened to the music Zoe loved so much: “Man in the Mirror.” “Walking in Memphis.” Andy Grammer’s “Kiss You Slow.” Paramore’s “Ain’t It Fun.” “Wait for It” off the Hamilton Broadway cast album. And of course “Wonderwall” by Oasis.
Joey seemed rather impressed by the selection.
Then, he came across a track he hadn’t heard before.
“That’s this band Arkells. The song’s called ‘11:11,’” Zoe said, knowing Dylan put it on the mix as a shout-out to her strange habit of kissing the clock and making a wish whenever she saw that time on her cell phone. She didn’t explain that part to Joey and Alex. That was just for her and Dylan. “If you skip ahead a couple of songs, there’s an amazing acoustic cover of Mariah Carey’s ‘Dreamlover’ I’ve been geeking out about.”
“No one geeks out better than my little sister.”
“Hey, you can turn it off at any time,” Zoe said, hoping he’d take the hint, but he kept shuffling. He didn’t let any of the songs play for more than a few seconds, but he paused for a little while longer on “I Know Things Now,” the one from Into the Woods about being excited and scared that had been stuck in Zoe’s head for months. It meant a lot to her that Dylan had included this one, because she knew he’d never heard it before she mentioned it to him.
Finally, Joey got restless and turned off the mix, swi
tching to the radio instead.
Then, Zoe’s phone and Alex’s phone vibrated at the same time.
Try actually kissing Oliver this time, Layla texted The Chat.
No promises, Alex texted back.
Zoe giggled.
“You guys talking about me?”
“Oh no. Alex’s boy . . . ,” Zoe explained.
* * *
ALEX caught Joey’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
“That’s not really an accurate description,” she said.
“Only ’cause he’s an idiot,” Zoe exclaimed. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t make out all over his car last night.”
“I would’ve kissed him back if he kissed me first. But I’m sure he knows that, which is probably why he didn’t make a move in the first place.”
“Wait. You think he didn’t kiss you because he knew you’d kiss him back?” Zoe asked.
“No, he didn’t kiss me because he wanted me to need to kiss him more than he actually wanted to kiss me in the first place,” Alex explained.
“Your flirting ability is so far above my skill level I don’t even really know what any of that means.”
“I don’t either,” Joey said, chuckling.
Alex appreciated Joey’s sincerity. And his ability not to take himself too seriously. Oliver was so calculated about everything, always playing games.
Once they got to the party, Zoe and Austin took off pretty quickly, joining some of Austin’s friends at the beer pong table. Joey and Alex walked into the kitchen together, looking for something to drink. She spotted Oliver across the room, setting up a boat race with Trevor and some of the other guys from the basketball team. He waved her over.
“Thanks for the ride,” Alex said to Joey.
“Have fun with your boy,” he said, smirking.
“He’s not actually my boy . . .”
“Then Zoe’s right. He is an idiot.”
* * *
ZOE might’ve been the worst flip cup player in the history of flip cup.
The game was simple enough: Drink all your beer. Flip your cup over.
But Zoe simply could not do any of it.
Cherry Page 12