Cherry

For JSP

To be honest, the sex pact wasn't always part of the plan.

Layla Baxter started it.

She announced it super casually to the rest of the girls—Alex, Zoe, and Emma—between bites of froyo, as if it were simply another addition to her massive, ever evolving to-do list. “I added a new bullet point today,” she said as she mixed a fresh spoonful of Sno-Caps into her frozen yogurt. Every Sunday afternoon at exactly 4:00 p.m. The Crew (as the girls were commonly known) would meet at their favorite froyo spot, The Bigg Chill, and huddle around their regular table for an important hour of sugar and gossip.

“Oh yeah?” Zoe asked, humoring Layla.

“Yeah. Well. Actually . . .” Layla smiled. “I added
three
new bullet points. Three felt like the right number.” Layla swept her long blond hair up into her signature bun, which was always equal parts messy and adorable. With Layla,
everything
was an “always.”
Everything had an order or a pattern or some sort of special meaning. True to form, she always—
always—
ordered the same frozen yogurt combination: a chocolate, peanut butter swirl with Sno-Caps on the side.

Zoe Reed also always ordered the same flavor: classic, plain vanilla. Vanilla really was Zoe's favorite flavor, but beyond that the truth was she also made most of her life choices with the hope of drawing as little attention to herself as possible. She blamed the habit on her bright red, almost orangeish hair. It was frizzy, dry, and nearly unmanageable, but unless Zoe wanted to rock some sort of buzz cut—which was obviously out of the question—there wasn't much she could do to improve the situation. She was stuck with it. With the hair. And the red. And the frizz. Which meant that everything
else
about Zoe had to be toned down accordingly. Even her frozen yogurt flavor: always vanilla.

“Lay, you gonna actually tell us about your new bullet points,” Alex prodded, “or are you just gonna be a cocktease about it?”

“Alex. I am not being a tease—” Layla fought back playfully.

“Except you totally are. . . .” Alex smirked.

Unlike Layla or Zoe, Alex Campbell wasn't into the “always.” She preferred randomness. Chaos, even. Alex was always looking for something new and exciting. Case in point: She had never (
ever
) ordered the same flavor twice. The Bigg Chill changed its flavors every week, and so every
week Alex would make a big deal about trying all of them and then inevitably end up with the most eccentric option of the bunch, something like Chocolate Pistachio or Oreo Cheesecake. Today, it was Caramel Custard.

When you looked as naturally good as Alex, it was easy to pull off the boldest kind of choice. Alex had soul piercing blue eyes, light chocolate skin, and endlessly long legs. The overall combination was, in a word, stunning.

“Okay, okay . . . ,” Layla said, getting back on track. “At some point between this very moment, right now, and approximately six months from now, on graduation day—”

“Really? Hi,” Emma interrupted. “I thought we weren't talking about that.”

“About what—graduation?”

“La, la, la,” Emma sang, sticking her fingers in her ears.

“Oh, come on,” Layla said. “Our high school graduation”—more
la, la, la
s from Emma—“is happening whether we talk about it or not.”

“I know it's
happening
, but that doesn't mean we need to dwell—”

“I'm not
dwelling
—I'm just saying it's the due date for my new bullets.”

“Okay. But then I'm just asking why it has to be the end of the school year?”

“It seems fitting and thematically appropriate. One door closing, another door opening.” Layla had clearly already given the timeline a great deal of thought. Of course, Layla didn't do much of anything without giving it a great deal of thought.

“Don't worry, Em,”
Alex chimed in, “I'm sure Layla will just add even more bullet points to her list soon. Then there'll be a new due date anyway.”

“You know, some people say that success means never getting to the bottom of your to-do list,” Layla retorted.

“Because those people never actually finish anything?” Alex laughed.

“No, because they're always busy adding more things to do.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It actually makes so much sense. And I'd very much appreciate if you could please stop hating on my life ­system?”

“Only if you stop saying supercool things like ‘life system'?”

“Oh, you love it—”

“Layla, I love
you
, but that's not the same thing—”

“Yes, okay,” Emma said, interrupting Layla and Alex's familiar back-and-forth. “That's great and all, but can we please just stop talking about it?”

Emma O'Malley plunged her plastic spoon into her Cookies 'n Cream froyo, piling on an oversized bite. Emma's weekly order was typically somewhere right between Alex's peculiar and Zoe's plain. In other words, she liked to keep things interesting, but she didn't feel the need to stray too far from the status quo. Emma's “always” was an extra order of rainbow sprinkles, which she got on the side for everyone to share. Emma was especially thoughtful like that.

However, at this moment, all Emma could think about was trying
not
to think about graduation . . . and she was failing.

Under normal circumstances, Emma was the most laid-back member of The Crew, the girl most likely to go with the flow, but senior year was throwing her off her game. Emma liked the way things were right now—her friends, her parents, her classes, and her job as senior photo editor of the school yearbook—and she didn't really understand why any of it had to change.

“Ooooo-kay,” Layla said, starting her announcement over again. “Before the-day-that-Emma-will-not-let-us-name, I am going to, in no particular order: get an A in Mr. Moore's AP Lit class . . .”

“Yes. Super doable,” Zoe interjected.

“Put blond highlights in my hair . . .”

“Ugh,
finally
,” Alex approved. Layla had been talking about getting highlights almost literally forever.

“Aaaaand,” Layla said, pausing slightly for dramatic effect, “I am going to have sex with Logan.”

Layla's sexclamation made Zoe spit rainbow sprinkles across the table.

A saliva-covered red sprinkle landed on Alex's hand. “Ew. Zoe, c'mon.”

“Sorry—sorry,” Zoe said as she scrambled to pass Alex a napkin. “I was very much not expecting that.”

“The highlights?” Layla asked playfully.

“The Logan.”

Layla and Logan had been together for more than two years, so it wasn't entirely surprising that Layla was ready to do it . . .
but actually hearing the words “I am going to have sex” come out of her mouth was a whole new sensation. All of a sudden, sex was something The Crew actually
did
. Or at least it was something Layla did. Or was
going
to do. Or something.

“I'm ready,” Layla added definitively.

“Wow,” Zoe said. Or maybe she only thought it. She wasn't sure if the “wow” had actually managed to come out of her lips or if it was still stuck, rattling around inside her head.

“I like this,” Alex said. “But why not just go for it?”

“I
am
gonna just ‘go for it.' That'
s exactly what I'm saying.”

“No, I know, but then why do you need to do it with a due date?”

“Oh. Have you met me?”

“Yes. You plan everything—”

“Ev-er-y-thing.”

“Right, but what if this time you were just, like,
Hey. Logan. I want you inside me.
”

“Ohmigod, Alex.” Zoe blushed.

“What? I have a feeling he'd be down.”

“Yes, I feel that too”—Layla laughed—“but I can't just say that—”

“You
could
, actually—”

“You know spontaneity makes me nauseous. Besides, a due date is an essential element of any well plotted plan.
Otherwise
it's just, like, what's the point of having a plan in the first place?”

“That's exactly what I'm trying to say,” Alex explained. “Maybe you don't
need
a plan.”

“Again: Have you met me?!” Layla countered as one of the cell phones vibrated from the phone stack in the middle of the table. “I think that's mine. Probably Logan,” she said.

The Crew had decided—well, Layla had decided and everyone else agreed—that froyo Sunday would be a phone free zone. The girls would always stack their phones on the table when they first sat down, and the only way they were allowed to check a text message before they got up was if someone else in The Crew read it first.

“You want me to check?” Emma offered.

“All good,” Layla said. “I think his flight just landed. I'm sure he's fine.”

“More than fine. He's about to have sex.”

“Not, like,
immediately
about to . . .”

“Right, 'cause spontaneity makes us nauseous,” Alex teased.

“Exactly.” Layla winked, knowing full well that Alex was making fun of her.

“But for real, Lay,” Alex said, trying again. “The first time you attempt to have sex you can't just, like . . . force it. I mean . . . there are moving parts involved. Body parts.” Alex was the only member of The Crew who wasn't a virgin. She'd done it only one time before, but that was still one more time than anybody else at the table.

“I know it's gonna take time to figure it all out,” Layla insisted. “That's why the ultimate due date is six months away—
plenty of time to work out the kinks.”

“So basically you're saying you want to have a lot of sex.” Alex grinned.

“A lot of
good
sex,” Layla clarified.

“I think it's supposed to be good even when it's bad,” Emma chimed in.

“No-o—it can definitely be bad,” Alex maintained.

“Right. But I think it's also like pizza: Like, when it's good, it's really good, and then when it's bad it's still pretty good,” Emma said with a laugh, which made Alex and Layla laugh too. Zoe joined in halfheartedly, but the entire conversation was making her anxious.

“I'm gluten free,” Zoe managed to add.