Time of Your Life (Time of Your Life #1)

by Jessa Hastings

he’s good and safe, but it’s always a bit messy with us—I don’t know why. Me probably.

I don’t love cold—I actually don’t love the hot either. Lala says I’m Goldilocks when it comes to temperatures, but I just want to be okay, really. I like to be comfortable. And if I have to be uncomfortable, I want it to be for a reason.

Uncomfortable things have to be worth it, worth whatever discomfort they bring you, otherwise they’re just…uncomfortable for no reason.

I get crushes on men rather easily. Sue me.

Actually, I’m not a lip reader, but were I one, I believe I might have just lip-read his brother say, “Just go talk to her.”

I’m not really listening again because I think the thing that’s about to change my life is walking right towards me, but I can’t completely confirm because I can’t look up in case it’s true.

The conversations around us all go quiet to watch on, because of course they do—why wouldn’t they? He’s him and I’m me and if you could listen in, wouldn’t you?

He’s 6’4”, by the way. Because I’m in heels and he’s still got some inches on me. A tower of a man.

It’s not good for a man to have a face like that and also be talented,

“Do you know who I am?” “Most beautiful girl in the world,”

“Fuck.” “What?” “Reckon I’m a bit in love with ya, that’s all.”

“Cos you’re not that kind of girl—?” he offers. I shrug. “I am for certain people?” He looks mildly discouraged, but only for a second before he tries again. “You not gonna be her for me?” I laugh airily. “No.”

“Well, I have a feeling you’re quite big trouble…” He gives me a proud, little grin. “Fuckin’ time of your life, but…”

“I’ll give you my number if you can tell me my name.”

No one turns me down. Well, except her.

You—everythin’ about ya—that’s all my business now.”

“Like, what the fuck was I doin’ till now?” I shrug it off. “Who the fuck was I singin’ about?”

“—a new man?” I don’t say nothin’ back, just nod. Yeah. Fuck yeah, I’m a new man. There was me before Ysolde Featherstonhaugh, and then there’s me now, after.

She laughs. Proper laughs. Best sound I heard since that first time me mum showed me “Here Comes the Sun,” which is funny now that I think of it. I reckon—somehow—them boys wrote that one about her. Feel like science might one day prove it that she, in fact, is the proper fuckin’ sun.

I’m not out here thinkin’ about girls how I keep fuckin’ accidentally thinkin’ about her, know what I mean?

“How very big of you,” she says, all cheeky. “Well.” I grin right back at her. “I am very big.”

Feels like there’s electricity in my blood, like a fuckin’ engine roarin’ in me stomach, and I want her—fuck, I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anyone, ever.

I don’t believe in fate; I don’t believe in all that shit about “the one”—or I didn’t. Might do now. Now that I’ve kissed her and it’s like, what the fuck was I doing kissing other people before? Waste of my fucking time, wasn’t it?

She says hi to the doorman and the bellhop like she’s fuckin’ Eloise, all casual and confident.

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” She leans back against a table. “We don’t get out of bed for less than ten thousand pounds.”

She lowers her voice, like I ain’t supposed to hear. “I think he’s quite sweet.”

“You know, you chased me…left where you were to find me, asked me to come back to my place—” “Yeah.” I nod. “And?”

“And nothing. I was just reminding you.”

I don’t fuckin’ daydream at all. But now? I’ve got this fuckin’ weird feelin’ like—I dunno, if I just walk away, I’m gonna fuck up the rest of me life.

“Get what?” “You.” She shrugs. “Why people lose their minds about you. I get it now. Your face is—”

“A masterpiece,”

Now if you ask anyone who knows me proper well, they’ll tell ya: I already got a pretty big head, don’t I? But when she says that, I’m buzzin’, man. Chuffed.

It’s lemons, by the way. She fuckin’ smells like lemons, and I’m mad for it.

They all just smelled like…I dunno, girls? But she smells like lemons.

Starts laughin’, shakin’ her head. Now, look—I ain’t one to take too well to people laughin’ at me… Might let her laugh at me forever, though. Maybe. Just cos I like the sound.

“You smell like…cigarettes. And beer.”

“She’s not one to waste her time,” one insider remarked, “but Joah? He loves wasting girls’ time. That’s his favourite pastime.”

you couldn’t pay me to get up and go.

“Do you have any secrets?”

Real

Sounds cute comin’ from her, but. Everythin’ do though, don’t it?

“There are like three different boys that all believe I lost my virginity to them.”

“Well, perhaps you should find something else to live for, then.”

I stare over at her—best face I ever fuckin’ saw, and I’ve seen a lot faces—wonder to meself if maybe I have just—? Found somethin’ else to live for, I mean. Maybe I found her on some shite Sunday night, end of Feb 1995.

“Fire.”

“Water.”

“I don’t…know…a lot of your music?”

Power move

“Favourite song ever then…” She purses them lips of hers, thinkin’. “I don’t know. It’s a tie probably. Between ‘Crimson and Clover’ and ‘Unchained Melody.’”

“What?” She frowns defensively. “I dunno.” I shrug, and that much is true. “You. Everythin’ about ya… It’s all whoa, innit?”

“Well, I thought you were good then.”

Then she does this half-smile thing, and fuck me, I’m prayin’ she only smiles at me like that from now on. Can’t fuckin’ stand the thought of her flashin’ that at everyone.