Cherry (32 page)

Laughing and squealing and sexting . . .

“Can everyone just please remember that we are in public?” Zoe asked when it all got particularly loud at one point.

“Sorry,” Alex said.

Really, she was apologizing for the entire situation and not
just
for the volume of their conversation . . . Luckily Zoe was blissfully oblivious.

Alex decided that was definitely for the best.

ALEX
sat in the front of Oliver's car, texting Joey on the way to school.

Lately, Alex and Oliver's car pool rides had been quiet and friendly, mostly just filled with the sound of the radio. They'd nod to say hello. And then they'd wave good-bye on the way out of the car. But that was it. They really didn't have much to say to each other. Not since the crying and everything. It was just too much. And now that Oliver was
dating
Caroline—not just hooking up—there was even less to talk about. This morning Alex found herself laughing out loud at one of Joey's text messages. She wasn't trying to rub it in Oliver's face, but it just sort of happened like that. She could tell that Oliver wanted to ask her about who she was texting with and what the text message said and all that, but he didn't or he wouldn't or whatever, and Alex wasn't going to offer up the information, so the silence continued.

Then, Joey texted that he had something serious to tell her.

The word “serious” jumped off her phone screen.
Ugh
. He's breaking up with me, Alex thought. But then she felt stupid, because they weren't even officially together. What exactly was there to break?

But then Alex realized that the seriousness wasn't about them at all . . . it was about her.

Her picture.

Joey was still friendly with some of the younger guys on the track team, and he'd been in a big group text, along with a bunch of athletes, for a while now. But just last night Oliver admitted to doing it.
Doing what
, Alex started to type before she realized she didn't have to. Joey was trying to tell her that Oliver had, in fact, Photoshopped the naked picture of her and sent it to everyone on the Internet. Joey explained that Oliver had been bragging about it pretty extensively. At first Alex wanted to argue with Joey. She wanted to say that Oliver couldn't
possibly
have done it — he'd told her he hadn't . . . but, then again, she knew that his word didn't really mean much of anything at all.

Joey texted Alex a screenshot from the group chat, and there was absolutely no use in arguing any more. There it was, in black-and-white, right on her phone screen.

You're welcome
, Oliver had texted all the guys as he took credit for his photo editing skills, like the cocky asshole he was.

“Stop the car,” Alex said.

“Excuse me?”

“Stop. The. Car.” Alex's
words were calm and measured, but they were also unwavering. “I'm getting out.”

“We're, like, two miles from school.”

“I'm not asking you.”

Oliver pulled up to a red light and was forced to stop, which gave Alex just enough time to hop out of the car. “What are you doing?” Oliver yelled at her through the open window.

All Alex knew for sure was that she couldn't sit next to him anymore. She hadn't really thought about anything else. Alex took off, running toward school. Fortunately it was a flat, easy jog along Ventura Boulevard. Once the stoplight turned green, Oliver had no choice but to drive off without Alex. He couldn't stop traffic, and Alex refused to get back into the car.

About fifteen minutes later, by the time Alex got to school, a bit sweaty from the run, Oliver was standing at the entrance, waiting for her. “What is your problem?”

Alex didn't have a problem.

Not anymore.

She bent down and untied her shoelace, all slowly and deliberately.

“What are you doing?” Oliver asked, getting more and more agitated and flustered with each passing moment, which made Alex want to move even slower. She knew she was driving Oliver absolutely crazy. It was an empowering feeling. She slid the star charm off her shoelace and held it up for Oliver to see before dropping it in a nearby trash can.

“You're actually crazy,”
Oliver said when Alex still hadn't spoken to him.

“And you're
actually
an asshole,” she finally replied. “You're welcome,” she added, echoing the text message he'd sent the boys. “For the Photoshop skills.”

Oliver's face turned instantly pale. He was so cocky and stupid; he thought he was actually going to get away with the whole thing. Not just the picture. Not just the embarrassment and all the ache he'd caused Alex. But the bragging, too. He thought he could get away with that. And that was the worst part, Alex decided. Oliver asked her if she was going to tell on him. He sounded like a small, sad, sniffling child.

“No,” Alex said, making the decision as the word came out of her mouth. “What's that going to do? Make your life miserable? Maybe, but I don't need that. You know what you did. And I know who you are. So. As far as I'm concerned I've already won. Forever, I get to be me—and you have to be you—and I feel incredibly good about both of those things.” Before Oliver could respond, she added, “And I'm glad you had so much fun jacking off to my knees . . .”

Alex turned triumphantly and walked away with her head held high.

EMMA
drove to Savannah's house without wearing any underwear.

She wasn't expecting to make that sort of bold move at 11:00 p.m. on a Friday night, but she wasn't expecting a lot of the things that had happened to her over the past few months. Recently, her older sister Heather told her that the secret to being an adult and knowing what you were doing just meant Googling the answer without asking anyone else first. So, mostly as a joke, she Googled:
What should I do with my life?
And it led her to a website about taking a gap year. Emma had never considered that option before. The only option that seemed to be on the table for the following year was her freshman year of college, but now, she realized that simply wasn't true. Emma spent some more time Googling—and exploring the real possibility of a gap year. It was an exciting prospect. But not nearly as exciting as spending more alone time with Savannah.

Can I come over?
Emma had texted.

PLEASE
, Savannah texted back almost immediately.

Emma was already wearing her pajamas, so she got up and got re-dressed.

Or undressed.

Or both.

Either way, she decided she needed to be only minimally dressed for what was going to happen next. She put on a pleated jean skirt. And her favorite purple zip-up hoodie. And a pair of flip-flops. And that was it. No underwear whatsoever . . .

Emma's parents were already sleeping, so she slipped out the front door as quietly as she could. And she snuck into Savannah's house too, making sure not to wake up her parents. And then, as soon as Emma stepped into Savannah's bedroom, the girls picked up right where they'd left off after their date night . . . all kissing and touching and fingertips . . . and Savannah reached for the zipper on Emma's hoodie . . . and the moment she realized Emma wasn't wearing a bra was absolutely priceless. It felt like an instant, immediate memory. The kind of thing you can remember in real time, long before before the actual moment even ends.

Savannah's face and eyes and
everything
 . . . it all just lit up.

“Oh, if you think that's fun . . .” Emma smirked.

And Savannah seemed to know exactly what she was getting at, because she wasted absolutely no time slipping her hands under Emma's skirt . . . and confirmed her happy
suspicion that Emma didn't have any underwear on down there, either.

“You. Are. The coolest . . . ,” Savannah said as the kisses continued.

They pulled off the rest of their clothes, and moved over to Savannah's bed and soon Emma found herself on top of Savannah . . . Savannah started to slide her fingers between Emma's legs, but Emma grabbed her hand, stopping her . . .

“This first,” Emma said, pinning Savannah's hands up above her head.

Emma kissed her way down from Savannah's lips, past her neck and her boobs and her stomach, until she found herself between Savannah's legs . . . and the truth was she didn't know what she was supposed to do—
at
all—
but she knew what
she
liked . . . and she remembered the last time she was in the darkroom with Nick and how worried she'd been about where his face had to be, and now that her face was there, she realized she had wasted way too much time worrying about that. Even though she certainly enjoyed the, um,
process
with Nick she knew now that she could've been and should've been just enjoying it so much more . . .

Savannah didn't seem to have any of those same fears—or if she did, Emma couldn't tell. . . . Especially since Savannah was too busy telling Emma how much she liked what she was doing with her tongue and her lips and her fingers. . . and then, just as Emma felt like she was really getting started . . .

Savannah finished.

Fireworks.

Everywhere.

This
, Emma thought.

And then Savannah flipped over, on top of Emma, and it only took a few more minutes of Savannah's lips and finger­tips before Emma set off her very own display . . .

Afterward, Savannah curled into Emma's arms.

“So. This is good,” Emma managed to say with a bit of a laugh.

“Yeah, it is . . .” Savannah laughed back. “Ineffable,” she added as if she'd been waiting for the right moment to say that.

“Ineffable?”

“That's the word for when something's too great to be described in words.”

Exactly
, Emma thought.

Ineffable.

That's exactly what this was.

ZOE
knew what she had to do as soon as she saw Emma's new sexie.

Emma and Savannah had “officially” had sex last night, and Zoe could see the glow on Emma's face and feel the “rightness” of it all even just by looking at the picture on the phone screen, and it helped confirm what she'd known was true for a few weeks now . . .

Zoe didn't want to be Austin's girlfriend anymore.

And not
just
because she didn't want to have sex with him anymore, even though, truthfully, she didn't, but mostly because he didn't make her feel the way Emma looked in her sexie. She didn't have any
bad
feelings toward Austin, but there just weren't enough good feelings left to force it anymore.

Zoe knew it was time to break up with Austin.

But it was still easier said than done.

Finally, after stressing about it all day, she worked up
the courage to call him just before dinnertime. She kept the conversation short and mostly sweet. She explained that she simply didn't like him like that anymore. And that she wanted to break up. He didn't argue with her. Maybe he felt like it had been building to this, too. Regardless, it was done.

Zoe realized she probably should've driven over to his house and told him in person, but she couldn't. At least she didn't text it to him.

Even though Zoe caused the breakup, she was still upset about it. She'd never had a boyfriend before Austin. He'd always be her first. And now he was her first
ex
-boyfriend too.

She texted The Chat.

And everyone texted back quickly. They all loved her very much. And they were all there for her. But of course she knew all that already. And the girls made her feel like the luckiest, as always, but then she also felt like crying too.

And so she did.

And she felt worse for a while but then also better, too.

Alex was right.

Tears were
so
underrated.

ZOE
could not bring herself to order vanilla frozen yogurt again.

Layla ordered “The Layla.”

Emma ordered cake batter.

Alex ordered Graham Cracker Caramel.

But, for Zoe, today was the time for something different.

She ordered strawberry.

“You reached maximum vanilla capacity?” Layla teased as the girls settled around their table.

“Yeah something like that. Maximum vanilla capacity. Maximum
Austin
capacity . . . I just had to get all of this out of my room.” Zoe gestured to the shoe box she'd brought with her. It was full of little memories she'd collected over the past couple of months. Each item on its own felt small, but it all reminded her of Austin and all piled together they were more than Zoe needed.

The dried carnation from Valentine's Day sat on the top.

“Is it lame that I want to keep this? Not 'cause of Austin, but just . . . it dried so perfectly.”

“Well. It's not from Austin,” Layla said, treading carefully.

“What?”

“Dylan bought it for you.”

Zoe laughed until she realized that Layla was serious, then suddenly she got serious too. “Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't
he
tell me?”

“He said all he wanted was for you to be happy. That was his ‘mission accomplished.'”

Zoe had been
so
happy that she hadn't even thought to press Austin about the flower. She just assumed it was from him because that's what she'd wanted at the time. Now, looking backward, she would've been even happier to know that it was from Dylan . . .