AN: For all of you that read Rinascimento di Donna. I wrote the scene of Mark and Maureen's first kiss. I had to, it was such a good bunny! Okay, enjoy! Reviewers get Mo's mum's cookies! No, just kidding. Everyone does. Reviewers just get extras.
Disclaimer: Don't you know this by now?
I don't feel as nervous as I thought I would. Thank God, sweat would ruin the satin… er, faux satin of my dress. Mark'll be here in twenty minutes, and I look perfect. Even though it makes me gag slightly, I must admit that I look smokin' in hot pink.
My mom is in the kitchen, baking frantically. I don't exactly know why, he's been to my house a thousand, million times, and doesn't need to be impressed. This isn't before Christ, I don't need a dowry. But, that's where she is, all the same. The smell of sugar cookies filters up to my room, combining with the hairspray for a pretty noxious effect. I exit before barfing, thankfully.
I waltz into the kitchen, and peck my mom on the cheek. I love her; she's sweet when she's nervous. I just have troubles living with her, that's all. Too much estrogen, I guess. I twitch out when I'm around women too much. Love them, though, they're far more entertaining than boys, who seem a bit dim. Oh well.
I glance at the clock. Ten minutes 'til meltdown. I can't believe Mark asked me to the junior prom. We've been friends so long, I never saw it coming. I've dated tons of guys, and he's never seemed to mind. However, I have been wrong before. I heave myself up onto the counter to sit by the batter bowl. I will steal scraps of it before my mom sees me, I'm starving. Didn't eat all day so I could fit myself into this stupid costume!
Mark begged me to wear a dress. He looked so pathetic, I caved. He's cute, in a puppy sort of way. I can't say no to him. Collins is probably going to laugh at me, but I don't care. He knows I can kick his ass, besides; I hooked him up with the cute boy in my senior maths class. He owes me one. I picked the heels, though. They were too funky to pass up! Who doesn't love faux fur?
The doorbell rings. My mom emits a weird squeaky noise, and runs to the door. I restrain myself from rolling my eyes, thankfully, or we would end up late. Mom enjoys her lectures. I follow behind her.
She opens the door. Mark is standing behind it, with a silly grin plastered on his face. He bought me a lily corsage, isn't that adorable? The sweat beads stand out on his pale face, so I rescue him from my mother's suddenly scrutinizing gaze. I hug him tight, desperately trying to cure him of his obviously unnecessary nervousness. He awkwardly pats me on the back. I see his face out of the corner of my eye; it has turned into a radish.
Mom pipes up. "So, Mark, want some cookies before you go?"
"No thanks, Ms. Johnson. We're probably going to be late as it is."
She titters at the politically correct qualifier. Mom and dad have been separated for a year and a half, now. She hates being called "Mrs."
"Oh, alright. Enjoy your times, darlings! Maureen, I want you back under my roof by eleven-thirty!"
"Seriously, mom? The dance doesn't even end until twelve!"
"Twelve?! In my day… well, in my day, we were too cool for school dances." She winks at Mark. I struggle not to laugh out loud.
"I'll have her home by one, ma'am."
"Okay, you can go. Just be quiet when you come in!" She bustles back off to her baking. Mark and I share a smirk, before heading out the door. I'm glad he's calmed down.
We're too broke for a limo, so we take a taxi. It's slightly cheaper. In the heat of the small space, I am acutely aware of his hand on the seat next to him, like a dead crab, waiting to be snatched up by a seagull or something. It's making me feel weird, and I'm not exactly sure why.
We arrive, and not a bit too soon for me. Collins rushes up to meet us, and, as I predicted, laughs, but I punch him in the shoulder, and wincing, he shuts up. I hug him. There's no hard feelings between soul-friends. I then take Mark on my arm, and escort him inside. I feel so fancy!
The music is super lame. Some school band, and the singer is totally tone-deaf. I could do better than she could, but the drummer is my ex, so, I didn't audition. Nuff sed. However, there is a buffet! Food, glorious food… I very nearly trip over myself running towards it. After about ten minutes, my dress is straining to hold me in, but I feel very much better.
The band strikes up a minor chord, and the beat slows sickeningly. Mark shows up at my elbow, part radish again, and mumbles indistinctly at the floor.
"What did you say? Can't hear over the music!"
"I said… will you have this dance?" He goes from radish to beet, and offers me his hand. Slightly stunned, I accept.
He sweeps me onto the dance floor. I'm shocked at his skills. "Whoa… where'd you learn to dance?"
He chuckles. "You know Nanette, in our history class? Long story, but she taught me."
"Hah. Hot girlfriend, there, Marky."
Mark looks awkward again. "She's not my girlfriend. Never was, never will be."
I feel weird like I did in the cab. "Oh. Right. Sorry."
Silence descends as we move across the floor. Then it is broken.
"Maureen… Mo?"
"Mmhmm?"
"What would you say if I told you I was going to ask someone out tonight?"
"Oh, Marky, I'd say I was so happy for you! This is so exciting! Who's the lucky chick?"
"You."
Oh. Oh shit.
"Me?"
"Yeah."
"Wow… Um… I'd say…"
He looks so sad now… damnit. What the hell.
"I'd say yes."
Mark is transformed. A smile reaches across his whole skinny face.
"Really?"
"Yeah! You're hot, baby!"
And then… he's kissing me. For a split second, I am revolted. Then… I feel something quite different. I lead him into one of the darker corners. I hear Collins whistling at us, but there are more important things on my mind.
His hands are all over my boobs. It's not a bad feeling, I must say. His mouth is yummy, too, and feels really good…
We run outside to the pay phone. I dial my number. Mark's hands are around my waist, my ass, and he squeezes it as my mom picks up. God, I'm going to kill him. When I'm finished.
"Hey, ma?"
"Yes, honey?"
"Mark and I are blowing this joint. You're right, dances are totally lame."
"Okay, love. Have fun!"
Oh, I will. "Bya!"
I slam the phone back down onto the little receiver thing. Mark and I walk the block back to his house, and climb in through his bedroom window. We don't want his parents knowing we're here. Not if we're going to be like this.
Mark slips me a sly look as he reaches his hand under his bed. In it, when it comes back ot, is a bottle of red wine. Hell yes.
I break the top off, and take a swig. His mouth is on mine again before I can have another. Tonight is going to be interesting.