Making Out by Megan Stine

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.
    â€œJust 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.”
    â€œDaaaad.” 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.
    â€œWhat? 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.
    â€œHow 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.”
    â€œYou’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.
    â€œI think Heather’s here,” her mother said, peering through the sidelights of their front door.
    â€œExcellent,” 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.
    â€œAnd 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?
    â€œWe 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.
    â€œWhatever you say,