Making Out Read Free Page A

hurt to be the dumpee.
    He hadn’t even given her a hint. Not a clue.
    Damn! I wish I’d dumped him first, Lisa Marie thought bitterly.
    And what about the prom? What about the dress? What about working her ass off for seven weeks so she’d look like a princess? Was she really supposed to give up her Saturday nights to buy a ridiculously overpriced dress when she didn’t even have a date?
    Princesses don’t say “ass,” she thought, as she rubbed a scratchy napkin over her nose, dabbed her puffy eyes, and made her way to Starbucks.
    Forget Todd. I’m going to buy that dress. I’m going to go to the prom. And I’m going to look like a princess when I do it. Period.

Chapter 2
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    â€œSorry I can’t stay to watch. Early business meeting.” Marianna’s father steered his Lexus SUV into the deserted parking lot behind the St. Claire’s Academy athletic field and flicked off the headlights. Through the early morning fog, Marianna could see the small group of her teammates on the cross-country team warming up and stretching, getting ready for their interval training.
    Her eyes immediately settled on Luke Perchik, the cutest guy on the team.
    â€œNot a problem.” Marianna tried not to let her relief show in her voice. Was her dad actually going to leave her alone during practice for a change? That would be a first. Usually he hung around being obnoxious, acting like he was some kind of an expert, giving Coach Robinson pointers on running style.
    â€œAre you doing fartlek today?” her dad asked. “Robinson doesn’t emphasize that enough, if you ask me.”
    Fartlek was a training regimen that Marianna especially liked—running fast, then slow, changing pace with quick bursts of speed. But having her dad push about it took all the fun away.
    â€œI’ve gotta go, Dad.” She jumped out of the car.
    â€œMarianna, tell Robinson to make sure those boys aren’t staring at your chest when you run,” her father called out the window.
    God. Her eyes darted toward the team, hoping they hadn’t overheard. No one seemed to be paying any attention. Par for the course, she thought, wishing that Luke would at least look up to acknowledge her once in a while. She’d had a crush on him all year, but he didn’t seem to notice.
    But then again, why should he? When she was around him, she barely made eye contact. She didn’t dare—not with her father hovering over her every second like he was Secret Service or something.
    She jogged off toward the locker room to change out of her sweats and baggy T-shirt (her father-approved training uniform) and into a pair of short shorts and a tank top that let her midriff show.
    By now, she was so used to maneuvering around her father’s strict rules and oppressive control of her life, she didn’t even think twice about it. She had all the strategies down pat: (1) take a change of clothes to school; (2) never discuss boys at the dinner table (her father could ruin any meal with his endless lectures about how all guys wanted was to get in your pants); (3) never discuss guys in her e-mails (which her father was obviously reading while she was at school); (4) pretend to be grossed out by any music video with raunchy lyrics, revealing outfits, or sexy dancing (which her father termed “borderline obscene”); and (5) behave at all times like the phrase nice Armenian girl didn’t make her want to gag.
    Translation: Act like she planned to stay a virgin for the rest of her life.
    Highly likely, Marianna thought, given that she could barely even get a date. Not that she’d be allowed to go out if anyone ever asked her.
    She tied her thick, black, wavy hair into a messy bun on top of her head and glanced at her reflection in the scratched locker-room mirror. Even without makeup, she had to admit that her friends were right: she looked pretty good. Her skin was