Making Out Read Online Free PDF

“Hey, do you want to come over and watch that movie with me on Friday?”
    Heather froze. Was Katie asking her for a date? If so, she desperately wanted to say yes. It would be such a relief to finally be true to herself. But what if it wasn’t a date? Heather couldn’t bear the thought of making a fool of herself.
    She could see it all now: she’d get to Katie’s and not know where to sit. On the couch or the floor? Close to Katie or halfway across the room? She wouldn’t know what to wear, how to talk, whether to flirt when Katie offered her a bowl of popcorn, or just eat it and shut up.
    â€œUm, I can’t,” Heather said. “I’ve got other stuff I have to do.”
    â€œOkay.” Katie shrugged, only slightly disappointed.
    Heather wanted to disappear.
    Other stuff? Had she actually said “other stuff”? Next thing, she’d be grunting and using sign language. Heather hated herself for acting like such a social loser.
    Funny, I’m never uncomfortable like this with guys, Heather thought.
    Maybe that meant something, she decided. Maybe she was better with guys. Maybe she wasn’t really a lesbian at all.

Chapter 4
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    â€œHey, girl. Looks like you pulled it together,” Graham said when Lisa Marie showed up for her second day as a Starbucks partner.
    â€œHuh?” Lisa Marie pretended she didn’t know what he was talking about. Just because her face had been all red and puffy when she came in to work last Saturday didn’t mean she wasn’t totally ready to handle a stupid little job like making coffee. After all, she’d set a record learning how to make all sixty-eight kinds of Starbucks beverages, hadn’t she?
    â€œYou were a mess last time,” Graham said with a shrug. “Gary wasn’t sure he was going to keep you, even though you did learn all the pumps in one day.”
    Wow. Lisa Marie hadn’t realized that a tiny little bit of crying on the job was grounds for dismissal. She had only sniffled once. Or twice.
    Anyway, she was in a much better mood now. Ever since this morning, when word spread through school that she was single again, guys had been paying a lot more attention to her. She was almost positive that one of the hottest guys at St. Claire’s, Marco Wessington, had smiled at her on his way to his locker. Marco Wessington! His father was a congress-man. Marco knew he was all that, so Lisa Marie had always thought he was out of her league. But maybe not.
    She stood behind the counter refilling the skim milk containers and wiping down espresso drips from the prep surface, ready to call out the coffee orders. Too bad the counter was so high. It hid her best feature, her navel, which showed pretty nicely in the low-cut black pants she was wearing. Well, maybe she could get out from behind the counter to wipe down some tables or refill the cinnamon shaker or something.
    â€œYou need an apron,” Graham reminded, handing her one. “They’re required. And your shirt has to be long enough to tuck in. Make sure, next time.”
    So much for her best feature.
    A jazz mix CD was playing on the sound system. Lisa Marie moved in time to the Latin beat, wishing someone would come in and order something. It was so boring doing all the grunt work Graham gave her when the place was empty. Restocking the retail shelves, cleaning out the prep sinks, hauling huge containers of milk from the stockroom fridge to the bar—it was all dreary.
    Dealing with customers was so much more fun.
    As if her prayers were being answered, the door opened, and two guys from St. Claire’s Academy walked in: John somebody and Ramone. They were inseparable, the school’s two most cliché jocks. John was on the lacrosse, basketball, soccer, and swim teams. He wore a numbered jersey of some sort every day of the year. Ramone played basketball like he owned the court.
    â€œHey,” John