In this honest, frank, and funny debut novel, four best friends make a pact during their senior year of high school to lose their virginities—and end up finding friendship, love, and self-discovery along the way. To be honest, the sex pact wasn’t always part of the plan. Layla started it. She announced it super casually to the rest of the girls between bites of frozen yogurt, as if it was just simply another addition to her massive, ever-evolving To Do List. She is determined to have sex for the first time before the end of high school. Initially, the rest of the crew is surprised, but once they all admit to wanting to lose their v-cards too, they embark on a quest to do the deed together... separately. Layla’s got it in the bag. Her serious boyfriend, Logan, has been asking for months. Alex has already done it. Or so she says. Emma doesn’t know what the fuss is all about, but sure, she’ll give it a shot. And Zoe, well, Zoe can’t even say the o word without bursting into giggles. Will everything go according to plan? Probably not. But at least the girls have each other every hilarious, heart-warming, cringe-inducing step of the way. From debut author Lindsey Rosin, Cherry is a coming-of-age, laugh-out-loud tale of first times, last chances, and the enduring friendships that make it all worthwhile. Lindsey Rosin is a screenwriter, playwright, and director. She is a proud graduate of Harvard-Westlake High School and the University of Pennsylvania. A fourth generation Los Angeles native, Lindsey lives in West LA—in close proximity to her favorite froyo spot, The Bigg Chill—along with her husband, Josh, and their adorable poodle-mix named Dodger. Cherry is her debut novel. Cherry The beginning . . . 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, las from Emma—“is happening whether we talk about it or not.” “I