“Bigg Chill Aaron says he’s sorry and he hopes you feel better,” Layla said as she passed out the plastic spoons.
“Oh my God . . . ,” Alex said. “Bigg Chill Aaron saw the picture?!”
“Well. At first I was thinking, he just thought you were sick,” Layla explained, “but then he also said to tell you to keep your head up, so I think it’s probably safe to say he did.”
Yep, Alex thought. Bigg Chill Aaron had definitely seen it.
Everyone with an Internet connection had seen it.
Ugh.
It . . .
Alex still couldn’t bring herself to say “me,” mostly because the picture mostly wasn’t actually her, but also because the whole episode felt like such a mistake, such an awful, horrible joke that she still wasn’t entirely sure it was real.
“At least the body is hot,” Alex said, attempting some levity.
Ugh.
The body . . .
It’s not that Alex wanted it to be her body, she actually very much did not want that, but at least if it were hers, she could claim some sort of ownership of it. She could’ve said, Why yes, that is me, take it or leave it . . . but it wasn’t. It was a sick, Photoshopped fantasy, which felt like a violation on top of a violation.
Everyone thought she wasn’t a virgin. She was.
Everyone thought she was naked. She wasn’t.
Alex’s reality was overshadowed by everyone’s thoughts and feelings.
And, really, no one knew exactly where the picture came from.
“There’s no proof,” the girls had all said, resigned to the uncertainty.
Alex wasn’t entirely sure where it came from either, but she had one pretty strong guess.
84 days until graduation . . .
ALEX needed to get back on track—literally and figuratively.
Her parents had given her permission to stay home from school again, but there were only so many track meets on the calendar, and the record certainly wasn’t going to break itself. Luckily, her body seemed to agree. She found herself awake and dressed for school and leaning against Oliver’s car a whole twenty minutes early. Her shoes were already on, and the laces were tied, and all her possessions were packed inside of her backpack.
None of that had ever happened before, let alone all of that at the same time.
She stood outside in the driveway, waiting. Watching. Noticing everything. Like the thin morning breeze. And the paint scratches on Oliver’s car. The way her toes felt inside of her sneakers. And then Oliver walked outside. It felt like maybe he somehow knew Alex would be early for the first time all year. He raised his hands up as he walked toward her as if to say he came in peace, or that he wasn’t guilty, or maybe a little bit of both.
“Alex,” Oliver said in a tone of voice she’d never heard before.
This wasn’t Oliver the Flirt talking, or Oliver the Basketball Star, or even Oliver the Asshole. This was just Oliver, the boy next door. “I’m sorry,” he said. It wasn’t like the way he apologized for kissing Caroline on the bus. This was an actual, real life “I’m sorry” for something seriously worth being sorry about.
“I didn’t do it,” he added.
Alex didn’t know how to respond. She just stared at him for a moment. Through him, really. And into his piercing blue eyes. She didn’t want to believe him, but there was something about the way he looked, his quiet face, his strong jawline, the way he held his body as it got closer to hers . . . something about the way he said he didn’t do it—his tone, his sincerity, the measured speed of his words as they slipped out of his mouth—something about it forced a big lump in Alex’s throat . . .
She hadn’t cried since it happened.
Not once.
She had puked more times than she could count, and she wasn’t really sleeping or eating or combing her hair, but she hadn’t cried . . . until now.
The lump in her throat turned into a fire in her eyes. And the tears—the hot, sticky, uncontrollable tears—came spilling out. It wasn’t just a tear. It was all of the tears . . . tears for all of the bad jokes and the rumors. For the catcalls and the cattiness. The two minutes and thirty-five seconds that Max held his breath. The months—years—she’d lied to her friends about that night at sleepaway camp. All the Mona Lisa smiles and the city lights near Mulholland. The star charm on her sneakers. The superstar email with all lowercase letters.
The way it never happens the way you want it to.
All of it.
Oliver respected Alex’s space, staying near, but not too close, until her sobs finally reached a crescendo, and he had no choice but to step forward. He moved toward her slowly, but purposefully, until he stretched out his arms and wrapped them around Alex’s back, pulling her into his chest, holding her.
Even after that Alex cried for a very long time.
Oliver held her until she didn’t need to be held anymore.
They were both late to school, but they both knew it didn’t matter.
82 days until graduation . . .
EMMA got her very first college acceptance on April Fool’s Day.
Of course she did.
She’d spent the past few months, basically all of senior year, feeling like the universe was playing a giant practical joke on her, so, of course she’d get into college on a day where everything was supposed to be some sort of joke.
“Yeah,” Savannah said, “you should probably check your spam folder.” Emma hadn’t considered that. But just before she started to panic some more, Savannah continued, “I’m kidding. Deep breaths. You’re good. And I’m proud of you.”
Then she put her hand on top of Emma’s and squeezed it reassuringly. She held on for a moment longer. Soon Emma could feel a layer of sweat coating her palm. She pulled her hand away as slickly as she could (which wasn’t very) and wiped it on her corduroys. Savannah didn’t seem thrilled, but public hand-holding really wasn’t her style. Emma tried to carry on the conversation, rambling about how her parents wanted to celebrate and have a whole big dinner. Her mom wanted to use the nice china plates. Her dad wanted to make a speech.
“So, dinner . . . ,” Savannah said tentatively. “Do I make the cut on that?”
Honestly, Emma hadn’t even considered it.
Her parents had insisted that she invite “the girls” but that just meant Zoe and Alex and Layla of course. “Or, just, forget I asked,” Savannah said before Emma had figured out how to respond. It wasn’t that Emma didn’t want Savannah to be there, but it just felt like a lot all at once. “We wouldn’t want to make any sudden movements or anything,” Savannah added rather pointedly.
“Hey,” Emma said, pushing back.
“I’m not . . . it’s not about dinner,” Savannah replied.
Emma could hear the frustration in her voice, and she couldn’t exactly fault Savannah for that. They’d been hanging out at school a lot—and things were decidedly “good” between them—but their kiss count was still stuck at one. It wasn’t that Emma was avoiding kiss number two, but she hadn’t exactly put herself in a position to let it happen either.
“It just feels like . . . what’s that expression? ‘If a tree falls in the woods when no one’s around, can anyone hear it?’”
“Oh, you mean: Does it make a sound?” Emma offered. “’Cause obviously if no one’s around then no one can hear it, but the point is about sound. Like, did it really happen at all?”
“Right.” Savannah nodded.
“Ha. Yeah,” Emma said, still trying to understand what she was getting at.
“So it’s sort of like: ‘If you fall for a cute girl, but she’s too embarrassed to tell anyone about it, are you really falling?’”
There it was.
That’s what Savannah was actually mad about.
“No?” Savannah asked, forcing the issue. “Does that one not work?”
Savannah got up and walked out of the classroom.
Emma followed right after her. “Hey. Stop. I’m not emb
arrassed.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yes! Jeez. Come to dinner if it’s that big a deal—”
“I already said it’s not about dinner—”
“Then why are you making such a big deal about it?”
“You make a big deal about everything!”
“And you don’t! That’s why this is so weird!”
“Emma, I know you don’t want me to have, like, expectations or whatever, but I don’t think that’s realistic anymore . . . And I know you’re confused, but the thing is: I’m not. I know who I am. And I know how I feel. And I’m not trying to push you . . . but if you weren’t so scared, I’d kiss you right here in the hallway.”
“I’m not scared,” Emma said as forcefully as she could, but it still came out sounding shaky.
Savannah stepped even closer to Emma.
Now their noses were practically touching.
Emma could feel Savannah’s breath on her lips.
She was basically daring Emma to kiss her.
Right here.
Right now.
In public.
Emma wanted to . . .
. . . but she didn’t.
And before she could do much of anything else, Savannah spun around and took off down the hallway. Emma wanted to yell out Wait. She wanted to stop her.
But she couldn’t.
So she didn’t.
And Savannah didn’t come to dinner.
* * *
ALEX felt like she was late for car pool even though it was seven thirty at night.
She’d stayed for an extra while after track practice and lost track of time, and now she was running late to dinner at Emma’s house. Alex hustled toward Emma’s front door.
Zoe’s forest green Ford Explorer was parked right out front.
The engine was still running.
“Hi, Zoe,” Alex said as she approached the driver’s side window.
“Well it rhymes with Zoe,” Joey corrected.
Alex’s heart skipped a beat.
Actually, it felt like her heart stopped for an entire moment as she laid her eyes on Joey Reed sitting in the front seat. “Spring break,” he explained as he fiddled with the radio.
“Nice to see you.”
“Nice to see you, too,” Joey said. Something about the way he said it made Alex wonder if he’d seen the picture. Her stupid, fake, but also stupidly real picture. “I’m sorry,” he added—and she didn’t have to wonder anymore.
He’d seen it.
“Yeah . . .” was all she could think to say.
“Did you hear about that time I got pantsed in the middle of the track?” Joey asked, seemingly out of nowhere.
No. Alex hadn’t heard about that.
And so Joey launched into a whole story about his sophomore year, and how his asshole friends had pulled his pants down around his ankles. In front of everybody. And how he was absolutely mortified. And betrayed. And never thought he could show his face again. But he could. And he did. And somehow Joey was able to explain the whole thing in a way that explained all the feelings Alex had felt but simply hadn’t been able to articulate.
Joey just got it.
And truth was, his story was way worse than Alex’s, because everyone really saw his penis. His actual, real penis. Luckily no one took a picture of it or anything. But still . . .
Joey explained that the infamous pantsing episode was the final straw that helped him lose all the “baby fat” he’d been holding on to for so long.
“This is way more of a conversation than I was expecting to have right now. . . ,” Joey admitted once he’d reached the end of it.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome.” He ran his fingers through his hair.
It felt like they were both trying to figure out what to say next when Zoe burst outside. She’d forgotten her cell phone in the car. Joey unplugged it from his charger and handed it over.
“Nice work, goober,” he said. “You’re lucky I didn’t drive off yet.”
“We were just catching up,” Alex offered. She felt lame for thinking the situation needed any sort of explanation at all.
“Cool, cool,” Zoe said, mocking the way Joey would sometimes. “But, like, get your own friends? Thanks, bro.”
Zoe seemed mostly oblivious to the sexual tension simmering between Joey and Alex. She slipped her arm through Alex’s and pulled her toward Emma’s front door.
Alex glanced back over her shoulder one more time before they went inside.
Obviously, he’d been waiting for her to look back.
He winked at her.
Oh wow.
That wink, Alex thought.
She could feel it in her entire body.
Later that night, as she stood in her bathroom, getting ready for bed, she could still feel the wink as if it had just happened. She’d thought about it all through dinner too. And then after dinner when Emma’s dad made a speech. And also after all of that when the girls snuck away and climbed out Emma’s bedroom window and onto her roof to smoke a celebratory joint.
“Wyatt’s dad has a medical card,” Layla had explained as she pulled the tightly rolled joint out of her pocket. The Crew didn’t get high together very often, but everyone decided they could use a break from the inside of their heads and all their rambling thoughts and feelings for a minute or two. They passed the joint around for a while and then they sat on Emma’s roof, laughing about how big the universe was and how small they all were—and they officially decided they needed more quality time together.
“Time and quality time are two totally different things,” Emma said, all high and introspective.
Zoe had suggested that they have a sleepover. Her parents were going to be out of town Friday night. She said Joey might be home, but he could probably score them some alcohol. All the girls were down, but Alex was especially glad she didn’t have to come up with an excuse to see Joey again.
That wink.
Alex was still feeling it.
Now she was also feeling a new sense of contentment pouring over her as she washed her face and brushed her teeth. She wasn’t sure exactly where this new-ish feeling was coming from, but she knew that she liked it. Maybe it was because she was still high. Or maybe it was because this was one of the best nights she’d had with her girls in a really long time. Or maybe it was because of the story Joey had told her outside of Emma’s house. . .
Whatever it was, she couldn’t stop thinking about that wink.
It was totally possible that she was reading too far into Joey’s wink, the same way her friends at camp had read too far into her Mona Lisa smile. Maybe she was exaggerating their connection. Maybe it wasn’t really as strong and seemingly instantaneous as she thought it was. Maybe she was overanalyzing the situation. Maybe she was just simply crazy.
Then she glanced down at her phone.
There was a waiting text message.
It was from Joey: Heard you’re sleeping over Friday night . . . glad I don’t have to make up an excuse to see you again.
And there it was.
He felt the same way too.
Maybe, actually, she wasn’t so crazy after all.
80 days until graduation . . .
ALEX couldn’t remember the last time they’d had an actual sleepover.
The girls crashed at each other’s houses all the time, after parties or late nights or for no real reason at all. But the last time the main plan of the evening was a sleepover? Alex had no clue.
“Wanna watch a movie?” Zoe asked, turning on the movie projector in her parents’ guest house. She was expecting to see the Netflix homepage, but instead . . .
“Oh shit.” Layla laughed.
“Are those . . . ?” Zoe asked, turning her familiar shade of red. She wondered why her cheeks didn’t just stay that way permanently.
“Yup. Those are two girls kissing,” Alex said, smiling.
There were, in fact, two naked gir
ls making out on the screen.
“It’s Joey’s . . . ,” she explained. His laptop was still hooked up to the screen.
“Well, it’s hot,” Alex said. She wasn’t sure if she meant the video itself or the thought of Joey watching it. Probably a little bit of both.
“I’m down,” Emma chimed in.
“Me too,” Layla said.
“Ohmigod.” Zoe squirmed, clearly outnumbered. “It’s fine. I’ll just be over here trying not to think about my brother getting turned on by this . . .”
Now that was all Alex could think about.
“Can we at least pick a different video?”
Alex’s phone buzzed. It was a text from Joey: Upstairs.
Alex couldn’t help but notice the period at the end of his text.
It wasn’t a question.
It was a statement.
And she liked it.
“Pick something hot,” Alex said, and then added a stupid excuse about wanting to go grab a Diet Coke real quick. It was the only thing she could think of that they hadn’t already brought out to the guesthouse. She would have to go back into the kitchen to get it. “Anybody want anything else?” she asked, trying to appear casual. Inside, her heart was already racing.
She walked into the Reeds’ living room, right past the kitchen and upstairs toward Joey’s room. Her bare feet were cold against the hardwood floor. She could feel the word “magnetic” swirling around in her head, as if that explained everything: She was being drawn toward Joey.
“Hi,” she said as she walked into Joey’s room.
“Hi,” he replied, standing up to greet her.
Before she knew it, they were only a few inches apart.
That magnetism.
A spark from Joey’s deep brown eyes slid down his face and parted his smile, and in one fluid movement he pulled Alex toward him, pressing his lips—firmly, sweetly, perfectly—against hers. The kiss was so natural and so obvious and so necessary, that it was actually the pulling apart afterward that felt strange. All she wanted to do was kiss him again.
Cherry Page 21