Making Out

by Megan Stine

  She pounded on the bathroom door again.

  “Minute!” someone called.

  Well, hurry up, for God’s sake! Lisa Marie thought. The real problem with standing in line for the bathroom was that you couldn’t escape when someone like Bradley—who was walking toward her right now—tried to corner you.

  Oh, please, Bradley, don’t make this hard on me.

  “Hey, you want to get out of here?” Bradley asked.

  “Um, no thanks,” Lisa Marie said.

  He shot her a glare, as if to say, What kind of bitch just turns a guy down flat? Couldn’t she at least make up an excuse?

  Nope. Not right now, she couldn’t.

  Finally the bathroom door opened, and Marianna came out.

  “Oh, it was you!” Lisa Marie was surprised. Weird. She had been ready to be all annoyed at whoever was hogging the bathroom.

  “You okay?” Marianna asked.

  “Ummm. Headache. And I’ve gotta pee. And Drew still hasn’t tried to talk to me, although we danced together half the night.”

  “Go talk to him,” Marianna said. “Seize the day!”

  “Go use the bathroom first,” Tara said, “or let somebody else go.”

  Lisa Marie slipped into the bathroom and out again as quickly as she could. Which meant she took five minutes to fix her makeup and try the complimentary little bottle of hand cream that was tucked into a basket on the vanity.

  Now what? Marianna had gone back to sit at Luke’s side at the poker game, which was getting louder and louder. A lot of people had migrated into the bedroom, probably sick of the posing and showing off at the poker game.

  John, Marco, and Ramone were still into it hard-core, and from the looks of things, it wasn’t going to end anytime soon.

  Lisa Marie was tired of that. She grabbed another beer and looked around for Li’l D. Had he already gone?

  No . . .

  He was in the bedroom, still talking to Sara Frigging Franklin.

  She should change her name, Lisa Marie thought. Yeah. Sara Frigging Franklin—it would make a good monogram. Two Fs, with the S in the middle. Or was the F supposed to go in the middle? But then it would be SFF—like her initials. That wasn’t right. Oh, whatever, she didn’t care. Her head hurt too much to think straight . . . but Sara should change her name anyway. She was sure about that.

  Suddenly, Lisa Marie felt a wave of sadness wash over her. She stared at Li’l D and Sara, totally baffled. What had happened tonight? Had she blown a chance to really be with him? How come he had danced with her so much, and it had been so special and magical and sexy, and now he didn’t even seem to know she was alive?

  As if he could feel her energy, he looked up right then, and their eyes met. He had been in the middle of a sentence, but when he caught her eye he just stopped talking to Sara and stared at her.

  Okay, maybe he did know she was alive.

  Wouldn’t it be amazing if he actually liked her? She could just picture the two of them—they’d be the hippest couple in St. Claire’s graduating class. They’d be partying at hip-hop clubs all summer, hanging out after his music gigs, maybe she’d even get to sit in the control room when he recorded his first CD.

  Go talk to him, she told herself. Go now. While you have the chance. He’s staring at you for a reason. Isn’t he?

  Yeah—there had to be a reason. Lisa Marie just wasn’t sure what it was.

  Was he wishing she’d come over and hang with him so he could get away from Sara Frigging Franklin? Or was he thinking, Ew. Scary stalker girl. Let me out of here?

  That was the trouble. She didn’t know. And she wasn’t about to risk being totally, humiliatingly rejected in front of a room full of people, no matter how drunk and unlikely to remember it in the morning they were.

  Chapter 22

  “Are you just going to stand there staring at him?” a voice behind Lisa Marie said.

  She whirled around and found Heather standing behind her, looking as fresh and beautiful and perfect as she had six hours ago.

  “Hey, you! We were worried about you! Where have you been all night?” Lisa Marie was glad to have someone to talk to. Gaping at Li’l D was getting her nowhere.

  “Around.” Heather shrugged, like there was a lot she wasn’t saying but didn’t intend to go into it here. She changed the subject. “It’s late. Don’t I have to get Marianna home?”

  “Did you ask her? Let’s get out of here so we can talk.” Lisa Marie nodded toward the door of the suite.

  They grabbed Marianna away from Luke, and the three of them headed into the hallway outside.

  At least the air was clear out there—clearish, anyway, if you didn’t count the fake-clean smell the housekeeping staff sprayed all over the place—and the thick carpet made it seem pleasantly quiet.

  “You having fun?” Marianna asked Heather.

  “Sometimes,” Heather said with a strange smile. “Listen, it’s almost twelve thirty. What about your dad? We’ve got to leave right now if we’re going to get you home.”

  “Screw Daddy!” Marianna declared with a slightly drunken slur.

  Lisa Marie laughed. “Yeah. Screw Daddy!” she agreed.

  “Are you sure?” Heather asked.

  Marianna bit her lip slightly. “I don’t know. I mean, my dad’ll kill me if I’m late . . . but who cares? This is my senior prom, and I’m never going to get to do any of this again.”

  “You could say you’re spending the night with me,” Lisa Marie offered.

  “Perfect!” Marianna jumped at the idea. “Yeah. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll call him and tell him I’m going to your house.”

  “And don’t even mention my curfew,” Lisa Marie suggested as she fiddled with strands of hair that were falling down. “He doesn’t need to know I’m staying out till two.”

  “Right. Although the mood I’m in, I feel like telling him your curfew is four!”

  “Not so smart,” Lisa Marie cautioned her.

  Marianna’s father was a piece of work. Even compared to the macho fathers Lisa Marie had grown up around in Venezuela, Mr. Kazanjian somehow seemed worse. Maybe because he was so infuriatingly calm while successfully controlling Marianna’s every move. It creeped her out.

  Inside the suite, a loud cheer erupted from the poker table.

  “I’m going back in,” Marianna said. “Maybe Luke lost.”

  “You sound like you hope so!” Heather was shocked.

  “I wish he’d either win or lose so we could get out of here,” Marianna said. She opened the door and slipped back inside.

  Heather followed, and Lisa Marie was right behind her. From the looks of it, the poker game was nowhere near over.

  Fine, Lisa Marie thought. That gave her a second chance to screw up her courage and go talk to Li’l D. But first she needed another drink—to bolster her resolve. She found an open bottle of vodka and poured herself a shot. Okay, two shots. Glass in hand, she snaked her way through the suite, past the bathroom, looking for him.

  The bedroom was crowded, but Li’l D would be hard to miss.

  She didn’t see him anywhere.

  Was he gone? But how was that possible? He couldn’t have left without her noticing—could he?

  Unsteady on her fake Jimmy Choos, she stumbled back into the living room and looked for a place to sit down.

  Marco glanced up right then, a big cigar in his mouth, and smiled.

  “Come. Sit.” He patted his lap. “I’ve got a good hand, and you’ll bring me luck.”

  Why were these boys treating her like she was some kind of carnival prize? She didn’t like the way they were passing her around from one guy to another, and she definitely didn’t want Li’l D to see her that way. But then again, if Li’l D was gone, how much could it really matter? Marco was hot. And he was smooth—he knew all the gentlemanly moves that made a girl feel like going along with his game.

  Besides, she’d look like a tease if she didn’t keep her word and spend some time with ea
ch of the guys on prom night.

  “Okay.”

  “Seven!” Luke shouted when someone dealt a card. “Oh, man.”

  It was intense. These guys were so into winning. Lisa Marie could feel the testosterone level in the room throbbing and pulsating, like some kind of sci-fi beast.

  Or was that the buzz from the vodka?

  She squeezed past John’s chair to reach Marco, who made room for her on his lap. Hmm. He was hot, but not in the sexy way. In the warm-body-temperature way.

  He put his arm around her waist and leaned forward so his face brushed her hair.

  “I’m all in,” Marco said, pushing all his chips toward the center of the table with his free hand.

  “Whoa.” Luke’s eyes opened wide. “That’s bold. I’m out.”

  Lisa Marie was a little too bleary to follow the game. But whatever all in meant, she had the feeling this was a big deal. The table got quieter for a moment.

  Vlad dealt the last card, and everyone bet some more. Uri was taking his time, like he couldn’t decide what to do.

  Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she felt Marco’s hand start to slide from her waist and work its way down. But it was one of those did-he-mean-to-move-it kind of deals. His hand slipped so little, she wasn’t sure whether he was being fresh or just getting tired. It inched down to her hips . . . then her ass . . .

  So lame, and yet so effective. It was classic groper technique. When guys did it right, you couldn’t tell whether they were trying to feel you up or not—so you let them get away with a lot more. It was like you’d be rude if you said anything.

  Oh, whatever, Lisa Marie thought. Once his hand landed on her ass, it didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Besides, it felt kind of cozy.

  Her head was buzzing. What happened to that drink?

  “So what have you got?” Vlad asked, eyeing Marco.

  “Full house!” Marco flipped over his cards and raked in the pot. He leaned close to her ear again, reeking of cigar smoke. “I knew you’d bring me luck.”

  Lisa Marie turned to look straight into his eyes. Was anyone home? Or was that sultry, sexy voice just part of his game?

  Cannot predict now, Lisa Marie decided. Outlook not so good. In any case, he didn’t make eye contact.

  She started to get up, but Marco grabbed her waist. “No way. Stay. You’re helping me win.”

  Wouldn’t it be great if that were true? she thought hazily.

  She tried to pay attention as the next hand was dealt, but she was tired. Maybe she needed something to eat, or . . . No. What she really needed was another drink to keep her going.

  Just then, the bathroom door opened, and Li’l D walked out.

  Her heart skipped a beat. So he hadn’t left! Well, okay. That was good news. Funny how her energy level could shift gears all of a sudden when something good happened.

  She watched him as he went toward the bedroom. He seemed to be looking for someone who wasn’t there. Then he turned back to the living room, and their eyes locked again.

  Was he looking for her? Could he possibly be?

  And here she was, sitting on Marco’s lap.

  Li’l D threw her an unreadable, smirky smile. She couldn’t tell what it was about, but something told her to get out of Marco’s lap—now.

  She jumped up.

  “No, wait,” Marco said. “You’re my luck, remember?”

  “Get your own luck,” Lisa Marie said, trying to squeeze her way out from behind the poker table.

  The furniture was so tightly pushed together, she was sort of trapped. She had to climb up on the coffee table to get out. Whoa. It was high up there. She felt a little dizzy. Maybe you weren’t supposed to mix vodka and beer all in one night?

  “Okay, gentlemen, let’s see what you’ve got,” Evan said shoving some chips into the pot.

  “Pocket rockets!” Vlad announced.

  “Pair of tens.”

  “Flush. Read ’em and weep, gentlemen.”

  “Shit!” Marco yelled. “I’m cashed out. Damn it, Lisa Marie, it’s your fault.”

  Lisa Marie looked over at him. My fault? Was he out of his mind? What was it with these guys, always trying to blame her? But there was no point in arguing with him. Or slapping him down. He was just venting.

  All she wanted to do was move this stupid chair, so she could go talk to Li’l D. But the damn thing was stuck, and she couldn’t push it enough to even get past it. Oh, what the hell. She put her foot on the upholstery and hoped the fake Jimmy Choos wouldn’t poke a hole.

  Now where did he go? By the time she’d extricated herself from the furniture jungle, Li’l D seemed to be gone.

  No. Not quite gone. He had his hand on the door, and he was about to leave.

  “Wait,” Lisa Marie blurted out, hurrying over to him.

  Li’l D glanced over his shoulder without turning fully around. “What’s happening, baby?”

  “I just . . .” She didn’t know what to say. She just wanted a chance to talk to him, really. But how could she say that?

  She flashed on what he had said to her in Starbucks. Could she make this come out the right way? “Uh . . . you . . . me . . . prom night. Remember?” she said.

  “You’ve been pretty busy,” Li’l D said.

  Was that an accusation, a compliment, or a complaint?

  “A girl likes to keep moving,” Lisa Marie said. “I’ll sit down when the music stops.”

  Li’l D laughed. “Don’t look like the music’s going to stop anytime soon,” he said glancing back at the poker table.

  “Gamblers always lose,” Lisa Marie shot back, not even sure what she meant by that, but hoping it sounded right. It was something her sister Angela had always said.

  He cocked his head at her. “That’s right,” he nodded sincerely. “That’s why I didn’t sit down with those jerks. They’re just throwing good money away.”

  Wow. It was sort of a shocker, hearing St. Claire’s number-one hip-hop artist coming off more straitlaced than the congressman’s son.

  Li’l D took her face in one hand, very gently. “You . . . me . . . next time . . .” he said in a very sexy but sincere voice.

  Then he and his buddies, who’d been hovering right behind her the whole time, were out the door.

  So all right, Lisa Marie thought. Next time! Those were words a girl could hang on to.

  She felt light-headed, but not from the alcohol this time. Drew liked her. She could tell. There was going to be a next time.

  As far as she was concerned, her prom night was complete. She didn’t care what happened next.

  Chapter 23

  “Is that your cell ringing and ringing?” Marianna asked Heather.

  Heather looked down at the tiny little green and gold evening bag that was lying beside her on the sofa in the hotel suite. Was it ringing? It was hard to tell, with all the noise of the endless poker game, the music playing in one room, and the TV droning on in the other. (And by the way: What was it about being stoned out of your mind that made the Game Show Network so fascinating, anyway?)

  If her phone was ringing at this hour on prom night, with her two best friends right there in the room, it could only be one person: her mom. She quickly snatched it open.

  Wrong. The number displayed in caller ID wasn’t anyone she knew.

  “Hello?” Heather decided to answer it.

  “Heather? It’s Tony.”

  “Oh! Hi. Uh . . .” How’d you get my number? she wanted to say, but it seemed kind of rude and pointless.

  Tony seemed to guess the question. “I had your number in my cell from the other day,” he said. “From when your friends texted me from your phone.”

  Heather liked people who anticipated and explained.

  “Anyway,” Tony went on, “I’m getting out of here to a party at Nick’s house . . . and I know we were supposed to hang tonight . . . so do you want to come?”

  “Nick?”

  “Nick Peron. He’s a friend of mine. He lives in
Chevy Chase.”

  Chevy Chase, Maryland, was one of, if not the, most desirable suburbs in D.C., filled with beautiful, sprawling old houses and wealthy political types who couldn’t bear to be more than fifteen minutes from Capitol Hill. Mentioning it was code for You’re going to like his house, and you’ll be driving in a safe neighborhood.

  “Um, sure. Can I bring my friends, if they want to come?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Okay. Where is it?” Heather asked.

  “Meet me in the lobby,” Tony said.

  This was an excellent turn of events, Heather decided. She had thought Tony was blowing her off altogether, and that she’d go home from her big senior prom completely empty-handed—which is to say, with nothing more than a pathetic story for her journal about how she got all hot and bothered when an amazing girl needed her necklace fixed.

  She’d also been positive Tony thought she was a jerk after she walked out of his video interview.

  Maybe she and Tony could hook up after all—she was still willing to give it a try. And if not, at the very least, she could make nice to him so he wouldn’t use the embarrassing parts of the interview in his prom night documentary.

  She checked in with Marianna and Lisa Marie to see if they wanted to come, but there was no way. Marianna and Luke were doing their best Cirque du Soleil impersonation, wrapped around each other in a corner, and Lisa Marie was back in full regal mode, holding court in the middle of her circle of guys.

  Okay, so she was outta there. Excellent.

  Tony was wearing a white silk scarf draped around his neck when she spotted him in the lobby. He looked so calm and relaxed, Heather immediately felt the same way. It was so easy being around him. Was that a good sign? Did it mean she liked guys after all?

  “Hey,” he greeted her. “Just you? No friends?”

  “They’re doing their own thing,” Heather explained.

  Tony nodded. “It’s better this way.”

  Uh-oh. How come? She tensed slightly at the thought of being alone with him, but he wasn’t giving off any I want to jump your bones vibes, so she decided not to worry.