Making Out (16 page)

“Jesus, I was only kidding,” he said. “Can't you take a joke?”

She started to get up to get some air, but John grabbed her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap.

“I told you, you were my lucky charm,” John said in her ear.

Then, right in front of everyone, he started trying to make out with her. He stuck his tongue in her mouth, and his hands were all over her. With everyone watching! What did he think—she was part of his winnings, or something? What a jerk.

Lisa Marie pushed him away as hard as she could, and struggled to stand up—but it was a major effort. She had fallen into his lap at a funny angle. Plus, did Jimmy Choo have any freaking idea how it felt to walk in high heels?

“God!” Lisa Marie said when she caught her balance and managed to get out of John's lap.

She stomped off, but it was a small suite, and there weren't many places to go.

What a crazy night,
she thought, pretending she needed to use the bathroom again. Actually, coming to think of it, she did need to go. Anyway, standing in line at the locked bathroom door gave her something to do.

Her head was starting to throb a little, right at the temples.

Had Li'l D seen all that? And if he did, what did he think? She was hoping he'd get jealous or intrigued or competitive or something when Ramone and John were fighting over her—but of course he was too cool for that. And anyway, he seemed to have disappeared.

Just as long as he didn't think she was acting like a slut. It was so hard pulling this group-date-hang-with-five-guys thing off. Great concept—sucky reality. When she danced and flirted and hung out with all five of them at once, she felt a little bit like a tramp. And when she ignored some of them to be with just one guy at a time, the others sulked and acted like she was cheating on them.

Okay, now she
really
had to pee.

She knocked on the bathroom door. “There's a line out here,” she called to whoever was in there.

“Out in a sec,” a muffled girl's voice said.

Tara came up behind her and got on line. “Hey, there's your boyfriend,” Tara said, nodding toward someone who had just walked into the suite.

Lisa Marie turned toward the door and saw Todd standing there, alone, gazing around the room. His hair was still combed, his shirt still tucked in, his jacket still fresh.

She looked away the minute he glanced in her direction, and didn't look back. She could feel him staring at her. Finally, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him leave.

Good riddance, she thought. She had enough men on her plate for one night. As much as she didn't want to hurt Todd, she didn't want to deal with him either.

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.

“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
F
s, 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.

 

 

 

 

“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 each 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.