Cherry (14 page)

“
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.

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.

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 felt 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.

“No, pizza is way less confusing.” Zoe giggled.

“Yes, but there are so many toppings.”

“And it can be thick crust or thin crust,” Alex added.

“Guys, wait, Zoe is gluten free,” Layla teased.

“I love/hate this so much right now,” Zoe said as The Crew got lost in another epic fit of laughter. It was the best, as always.

  *  *  *  

ZOE
wasn't expecting to get a text message from Dylan at five thirty in the afternoon.

You home?
it said.

Yeah . . . ,
she replied. She'd just gotten home from froyo a few minutes earlier.

K
, he texted back quickly.

And then three dots popped up on his side of the conversation, indicating that he was typing something else. Zoe watched the dots closely. She also watched as they
disappeared without producing a new message. Then, almost immediately, the dots came back again. More typing, but still no message. Those three dots and their constant disappearing act were two of the many reasons that Zoe hated texting.

Finally, Dylan managed to send a new text:
I'm coming over.

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. And he texted it as if it were totally normal behavior. Like the kind of thing that happened all the time.

It did not.

This would be the first time Dylan had ever come to Zoe's house.

About an hour later Dylan rang the Reeds' front doorbell, and the chimes rattled throughout the whole house. Zoe scampered down the stairs, hoping to be the first one to the door, but, unfortunately, her dad beat her to it.

“Hi, Mr. Reed,” she heard Dylan say. “Is Zoe home?”

“Yes! Hi . . . ,” Zoe said loudly, sliding up behind her dad. “I got it,” she added, mustering up as much “chill” as she possibly could. She was hoping her dad would just nod and walk away, but she knew that was wishful thinking.

“Who's this?” he asked as if Dylan weren't standing right in front of them.

“I'm Dylan,” Dylan said, extending his hand for a handshake.

Good move, Zoe thought. Her dad always appreciated a good handshake. Still, he felt the need to look Dylan up and down. Zoe couldn't quite tell if he was trying to
be intimidating or just genuinely confused by the handsome water polo player standing in front of him. After a moment, Dylan added a “nice to meet you,” and Zoe's dad finally shook his hand.

“Come in,” Zoe said, shooting her dad another be-cool kind of look.

But “being cool” wasn't her dad's style. “It's a school night,” he said.

“Yessir.” Dylan nodded.

“We just have some homework to finish,” Zoe offered lamely.

The fact that Dylan wasn't holding a backpack or any books wasn't lost on Zoe's dad, but thankfully he didn't feel the need to push the issue anymore. Instead, he simply told them to be quick about it and went back into the den to watch the rest of the Lakers game.

Zoe led Dylan upstairs and into her room and closed the door behind them. Immediately, she felt weird about it. They weren't going to do anything that required a closed door, and now that it was closed, all she wanted to do was open it again, but then that just felt like it would be even weirder, she thought, so she let it be. Besides, Dylan hadn't seemed to notice the location of the door. He was too busy getting a good look at Zoe's bedroom.

“Wow, Z,” he said, taking in all her decorations.

Zoe's entire wall, the one above her bed, was covered in pictures and postcards and magazine clippings and things she'd printed out and collected over the years. There were quotes and song lyrics. Doodles and tickets. Awards. Blue
ribbons. The whole wall was bright and extremely well curated. Zoe was very proud of it. She was always adding to it and changing it. She felt like it was a pretty accurate reflection of who she was at any given moment in time. She noticed that Dylan took an especially long look at The Other Team ticket stub from her concert with Austin, which was prominently displayed in the center of the wall.