Making Out

by Megan Stine

  “You’re taking both of them?” the woman accused in an arch tone.

  Heather checked the sizes. One was a six. The other was a fourteen.

  “Here,” she said, thrusting the fourteen back at the petite woman. “You can have this one.”

  Marianna and Lisa Marie were standing in the hallway of the dressing room, clearly eavesdropping on someone, when Heather got back.

  Giggling, Marianna put a finger to her lips. “Listen.” She nodded toward a dressing room a few doors away.

  Heather followed Marianna’s gaze. Behind the closed door, she could hear what sounded exactly like two girls making out. They weren’t even trying to be quiet about it, either. One of them was moaning, “Oh, oh, oh yeah,” and the other kept going, “Mmmm.” It sounded like they were backed up against the door because someone kept bumping it.

  Lisa Marie and Marianna were both laughing silently, their eyes wide open in totally scandalized shock.

  “Who is it?” Marianna whispered.

  Lisa Marie shrugged. “Someone having too much fun,” she whispered with a laugh.

  Heather was dying to know who it was, but she didn’t want to act more interested than they were.

  Still, a girl’s gotta do what she’s gotta do.

  She bent down and looked under the door, trying to see if the legs gave any clue.

  Nope.

  Other than it was two white girls who had probably used Venus razors in the past three hours.

  “Well, it’s a free country,” Marianna said, slipping back into her dressing room to change out of the sequin-bodiced gown. Lisa Marie took the size six dress and closed the door to try it on.

  Clearly, they were done eavesdropping.

  But Heather felt her pulse quicken a little as whoever was behind the bouncing door started moaning a little louder. Reluctantly, she returned to her own dressing room. Even if she couldn’t hear the make-out session from there, she could still imagine it—and wonder who was behind those doors.

  I feel like a freak, she thought. Why couldn’t she just be herself? Be out?

  One of these days, she was going to get up the nerve to let her friends know the truth. That she had a crush on Katie Morgan, and no desire whatsoever to spend the night with Tony at the prom.

  Just the thought of prom night made her stomach tighten. It was going to be agony having to pretend . . .

  Lisa Marie popped out of the dressing room in the black satin gown. It looked amazing on her.

  “You’re the best!” she said, throwing her arms around Heather, giving her a hug. She twirled for Heather’s approval.

  “Fabulous,” Heather said, and meant it. The dress was so slinky and sexy, Lisa Marie was going to be a standout on prom night. And with that low-cut back, guys would go nuts. There was so much skin showing, you knew she couldn’t be wearing much of anything underneath.

  “Prom is going to be the best night of our lives!” Lisa Marie announced, her face aglow.

  Heather sincerely doubted it. But she didn’t have the nerve to say so.

  Chapter 13

  Marianna’s stomach felt fluttery as she pulled on a pair of stockings so sheer, she felt practically naked even when she was wearing them.

  It’s prom night! she thought, trying not to bounce off the walls with excitement. After waiting so long, and planning it for so many weeks, she’d been afraid that the real thing would be a letdown compared to her fantasies and anticipation.

  Or worse, that her dad would do something to ruin the whole thing at the last minute—like telling her she couldn’t go, or forcing her to wear a bulky sweater.

  But so far, nothing bad had happened.

  The whole day, in fact, had been a total buzz. She and Lisa Marie had hung out all morning at Heather’s, talking about how great the prom was going to be, gossiping about which St. Claire’s girls were likely to wind up with which guys by the time the night was over, and drinking green tea (Heather’s idea) to calm their nerves while the three of them did their nails and gave themselves pedicures.

  Then, on her way to the hair salon, Luke had called her cell three times because he was afraid the florist had messed up her corsage, and he was freaking that it wouldn’t look right with her dress.

  How sweet was that? Besides, Marianna didn’t really care about the stupid corsage. Just having him care so much made her happier than anything with a straight pin and a fake piece of greenery ever could.

  After lunch—fruit salad and toast that she barely picked at because she was too excited to eat—she lounged in a bubble bath and shaved her legs while listening to Ted Leo + Pharmacists on her iPod.

  Now, with her hair perfect and her makeup so fabulous she was even looking forward to having her dad take a zillion photos, she slipped on her dress, stepped into her shoes, and went downstairs.

  Okay, so maybe she was looking forward to half a zillion photos. What was it about her father that made him always go too far? The man knew no bounds.

  “Just one more on the stairs, and that’s all,” Marianna’s father said, clicking away on his digital Nikon D10. “Then we’ll do a few on the porch.”

  “Daaaad.” Marianna cocked her head to one side and let her hair hang off her shoulders, because she knew it looked fabulous that way. But she put a sourpuss scowl on her face.

  “What? You look beautiful,” her father said, beaming at her. “And it’s your first prom. We need pictures. Grandma will want to see them, too, you know.”

  Yeah. Well, they’re going to be pretty weird pictures, Marianna thought. Just one girl alone? In a prom dress? Without a date?

  Luke should be here. He should be in the photos.

  Still, she didn’t really mind that her dad was taking so many, because he was right—she did look amazing tonight. Barry, at the Aveda salon, had outdone himself with her hair, leaving some of it cascading at the sides and pulling some of it up off her face.

  Her dress was unbelievable, too. It looked even more elegant now that she had the right jewelry—a retro black choker necklace.

  “How about a few on the couch?” her father suggested. “Before we go outside.”

  Marianna shook her head. “I don’t want to wrinkle my skirt.”

  “You’ll wrinkle it in the car anyway,” her father argued, pointing at the couch like she was a dog who would jump up and do tricks.

  She sighed, but complied. The thing about her dad was that, no matter how obnoxious he could be with a camera in his hands, the pictures always came out great. Marianna thought he was probably a frustrated artist. Maybe if he’d gone into photography instead of wheeling and dealing in government contracts, he wouldn’t be such a grumpy tyrant.

  “I think Heather’s here,” her mother said, peering through the sidelights of their front door.

  “Excellent,” her father said. “I’ll get some pictures of both of you.”

  Oh, great, Marianna thought. Pictures of me and Heather—like we’re a couple.

  I hope Grandma enjoys that.

  By the time her dad was done posing them together on the steps, the porch, and in front of the big cherry tree in their front yard, Marianna wanted to strangle him. In ten minutes he’d managed to imply that Heather looked even more beautiful than Marianna did, treated Heather like she was “in charge” for the evening, and had flat out declared that Marianna’s college choice was on the line if anything bad happened tonight.

  “And you’d better have her home by twelve thirty,” her dad warned Heather. “I mean it. Not a minute later.”

  Heather swallowed and shot Marianna a quick, questioning glance.

  Was this torture ever going to end?

  “We know, Dad,” Marianna said. Twelve thirty was only half an hour after the prom officially ended. It was ridiculous, but what choice did she have? That was the best deal Lisa Marie’s parents could negotiate with her father.

  “Whatever you say, Mr. Kazanjian,” Heather promised in her best good-girl voice.

  As so
on as they were out of the house, Marianna let out a sigh of relief. “Do you see why I was considering going to the University of Alaska?” she said.

  “He’s intense,” Heather admitted.

  “Well, anyway, you won’t be stuck bringing me home at twelve thirty,” Marianna said. “I’m pretty sure Luke will be driving me home.”

  She arranged her skirts in the front of Heather’s car and checked the mirror. Her skin tingled, like it was just waiting to be touched.

  This was going to be an unforgettable night, Marianna was sure of that. The only question was: Which part would be most memorable? The buildup had already been fantastic. Now it was on to Lisa Marie’s, then dinner in an upscale restaurant in the hotel where the prom was being held, and then finally the prom itself.

  Dinner would not be the most fabulous part, she decided. Who could eat at a time like this? But hey—it was part of the ritual, and she wasn’t going to miss out on a scrap of it.

  They pulled into Lisa Marie’s driveway.

  “Should I honk?” Heather said. “Maybe she’ll just come out.”

  No such luck. Mrs. Santos was standing at the front door, camera in hand, waving them in.

  More photos, this time with Lisa Marie in the middle.

  More cautions about drinking and driving. Everyone assured Mrs. Santos it wouldn’t be an issue because Heather was the designated driver, and she didn’t even like to drink.

  They parked in the garage at the Renaissance Hotel and rode the elevator up to the Florentine Restaurant, passing half the people they knew from St. Claire’s Academy on the way. Marianna scanned the lobby, looking for Luke, but he wasn’t there.

  “Don’t worry, he’ll show up,” Heather said reassuringly.

  “Have you seen Tony yet?” Marianna asked.

  Heather blew off the question. “It’s not a date. We’re just going to hang out if we feel like it.”

  Hopefully, you’ll feel like it, Marianna thought. Otherwise, how was she going to get enough alone time with Luke?

  Lisa Marie spotted John and Ramone in the lobby, dressed in identical rented tuxes, except that Ramone had gone for the hipper look—a silver necktie—while John was sporting a tacky red brocade vest and matching bow tie.

  “Well, there are two of your dates,” Marianna teased.

  “Okay, don’t start with me,” Lisa Marie said.

  “Oh, we’re just getting started, aren’t we, Heather?” Marianna laughed.

  “Definitely,” Heather agreed. “You’ve got five dates for tonight. You’re never going to live that down.”

  “Do you have to go check in with them or something?” Marianna asked.

  “It’s not five dates!” Lisa Marie protested, but she was glowing from head to foot. Marianna had the feeling Lisa Marie could barely contain her excitement.

  Yeah. It was going to be a memorable night. That much was certain.

  “I’m glad your mom took all those pictures of us,” Marianna said. “Years from now, we’ll be at some dreary high school reunion, probably in this very hotel, and we’ll get out all those pictures and say, ‘Can you believe we looked that hot on prom night?’ ”

  The maître d’ showed them to a good table near the bar. Being gorgeous, unattached young women didn’t hurt when it came to getting decent tables. More than half the people in the Florentine were prom-goers, mostly couples and a few other groups of girls. But Marianna and her friends stood out in the crowd.

  High school guys don’t go out to dinner together, Marianna realized, glancing around. There wasn’t a single group of prom guys in the restaurant.

  Lisa Marie lifted her water glass to make a toast. “To us—and to having an awesome prom night,” she said.

  “Ummm,” Heather chimed in. “To us.”

  “I already know I’m going to have an awesome night,” Marianna said, thinking of Luke. “You’re the one who has to choose between five guys, Lisa.”

  “Five? Or is it six?” Heather asked.

  Lisa Marie stared. “Did I forget someone?” She was honestly not sure.

  “Hello. Todd?”

  “Oh, that. That’s over,” Lisa Marie said decisively.

  Marianna ordered lobster tails and a salad. It was her night to indulge. Lisa Marie ordered two appetizers—shrimp spring rolls and the duck crepes—instead of a main course. Heather got the special—penne with broccoli rabe and pine nuts.

  “So who do you really want to wind up with?” Heather asked Lisa Marie while they were nibbling pieces of crusty bread. “I mean, if you had to pick just one of your five guys?”

  “You mean which one is likely to get to third base?” Lisa Marie asked.

  Marianna laughed. “That’s another way to put it.”

  “Okay, here it is. Bradley . . . nothing. He doesn’t even get to bat. John . . . he’s hot, but he’s too full of himself, so first base, maybe, but just to see how it feels to kiss him. Ramone . . . he’s more my type, really, but he’s too stupid. I’d let him get to second base but only because I know he’s too dumb to even brag about it.”

  Marianna shrieked with laughter. “You’re outrageous!” she said.

  “Tonight, I’m a cold bitch,” Lisa Marie said.

  Heather and Marianna both laughed. No way was Lisa Marie a bitch or a slut or anything like that—she was just playing the part and enjoying the limelight. What the hell. After two years with Todd, she was entitled.

  “What about Marco and Li’l D?” Heather asked.

  Lisa Marie pursed her lips, thinking. “Marco gets to second base if he treats me like royalty,” she decided. “But that won’t happen, because he’s really a prick. A charming prick, but a prick.”

  Lisa Marie took a sip of her tonic and lime. Marianna could tell she wished it had gin in it.

  “As for Li’l D . . . he’s the one,” Lisa Marie went on, more serious now. “But I don’t think he’s really into me.”

  “You never know,” Marianna said. Poor Lisa Marie. Didn’t she realize how great she was? Guys loved her sense of humor and the fact that she really knew how to kick back and have fun. For some reason, she didn’t seem to get that.

  “So Li’l D gets a grand slam?” Heather asked, probing for details.

  Lisa Marie shook her head. “I’d love to make out with him, but I’m not having sex with anyone tonight. Doing it on prom night is tacky—unless you’re really in love.”

  Yeah, Marianna thought, catching a meaningful glance from Lisa Marie. Was she in love with Luke?

  “I’d settle for someone who would kiss me good night,” Heather mumbled with a faraway look on her face.

  Who’s she thinking about? Marianna wondered. There could really be only one answer.

  “That’ll happen,” Marianna reassured her with a nod. “Tony’s your man. Just wait and see.”

  Heather blushed, and her head made an involuntary shake.

  That proves it, Marianna thought. She’s so into him—she’s afraid she’ll get her heart broken.

  So leaving Heather alone with Tony all night would be a good thing.

  Marianna felt much better now—now that she had a good excuse to dump Heather ten minutes into the prom, and go find Luke.

  Not that anything would stop her.

  Chapter 14

  Heather stood at the edge of the dance floor in the hotel ballroom and scanned the glittery crowd. Overhead, the ceiling was draped with giant gold balloons and lamé black streamers—was this a theme?—while gold spotlights played on the walls, creating an unreal, vaguely glamorous effect. Word around school was that the prom committee couldn’t agree about anything, so they’d given up. Someone had apparently ordered a bunch of cheesy stuff from some prom Internet site at the last minute.

  Still, the mood was exciting, and there was some kind of buzz in the air. The dance floor was respectably full. It was still too early for a lot of the hippest kids to show up—that’s why the place wasn’t packed yet. But after a minute, Heather finally spotted the
person she was looking for.

  Katie. At least Katie was there.

  Heather’s heart pounded a little as she watched Katie dancing with the group of girls she’d arrived with. In her slinky beige gown cut on the bias, with tiny torn bits of netting sewn like trim along the seams and hem, she was a vision, a knockout. The tiniest pearl necklace hung around her beautiful long neck, and her golden hair fell everywhere, framing her shoulders and covering the thin straps of her dress.

  No matter how crowded the dance floor got, Katie was the kind of girl people always made room for. There was this invisible cushion of space around her—as if she were the star of a movie, and the extras knew they had to leave room for the camera shot. You didn’t crowd a girl like Katie Morgan. Her aura gave off a huge glow.

  “Why aren’t you dancing?” A voice beside Heather broke through her private space.

  It was Marty Alexander, the yearbook editor, dressed like James Bond in a white dinner jacket, black bow tie, and black formal pants. Very East Coast preppy. Very old-school money. The dinner jacket didn’t look rented, and it didn’t look brand-new. Marty had done the formal thing before.

  “Hi,” Heather said, glad to have someone to talk to. She couldn’t blame her friends for dumping her already—not really. She just wished they’d have spent a few more minutes with her before running off to be with their guy. Or guys. Plural, in Lisa Marie’s case.

  “You alone?” Marty asked, sounding surprised.

  “No, I came with Marianna and Lisa Marie.”

  “So why aren’t you dancing?”

  The DJ was spinning something with a dance club beat, and Marty didn’t seem to have anything more than a quick twirl on the floor in mind, so she let him take her hand and lead her into the crowd. The minute they hit the dance floor, she started to loosen up. Dancing was better than doing the wallflower act.

  Marty grabbed her and spun her around to the right, then the left, throwing down some serious swing dance moves. He was pretty masterful, surprisingly so. Heather laughed, amazed at how people’s personalities changed—some for better, some for worse—on the dance floor. Marty was suddenly a party animal. Who knew?