The party had officially started. Isaac and his mates (I had boys in my living room!) switched on the sound system. It all seemed to be going … well. Better than well. If the sound of laughter was anything to go by, people were having a good time.
I couldn’t quite believe that I was pulling this off. Me, the girl who blushes when she’s asked to read aloud in lessons, was throwing a banging house party without her parent’s knowledge. Who’d have thought?
I didn’t want to rest on my laurels, though. I did a periodic sweep of the upstairs rooms, just to make sure Dad’s office and Aphrodite’s room were safe from prying eyes. Something told me the gods would definitely know if their private rooms were invaded by mortals.
I checked the kitchen and found Eros surrounded by several girls I didn’t recognize, hooked on his every word.
“It’s like I always say,” Eros said, “if the feelings are mutual, the effort will be equal. It’s as simple as that.”
“You’re so right,” said one of the girls in the group, nodding like Grandma Thomas at church. “I’m the one doing all the work with this boy.”
Eros was playing agony aunt, and loving every minute of it. If there was one god I could trust around mortals, it was Eros. I left him to it.
Yasmin made a beeline for Jayden (she wasn’t the only one feeling more confident in a new dress), and Adam found Daphne. It left Noor and me chatting. She gave me the dirt on all the people I didn’t know. She was like a human Wikipedia, but for gossip instead of homework facts.
“That girl in the black jumpsuit? That’s Jessica Chambers. She works in her dad’s funeral parlour, which is why she smells a bit like embalming fluid,” Noor said.
“And those two giving Yas the evil eye?” I discreetly turned to see a pair of girls who looked around twenty-five. “That’s Tanya and Georgia. They’re in our year. Georgia is Jayden’s ex-girlfriend,” Noor said. The venom in Georgia’s expression was Medusa levels. Yikes. I was definitely going to steer clear of her.
The party swelled and the living room got hotter and hotter. The last thing I wanted to do was sweat to death in this dress (plus Aphrodite would definitely make me pay for the dry-cleaning bill) so Daphne, Noor and I grabbed our coats and stepped out in the garden for a few minutes.
It was a cloudless night and music seemed to come from every direction. We sat on the swing bench as more of the party flowed outside, lured by the fresh air and the prospect of fireworks at midnight.
That’s when I saw him.
I told Daphne and Noor not to turn around. Immediately they turned around. Argh! Like me, they were looking at the fittie leaning against the garden fence. He was too busy scribbling in a notebook to notice the three pairs of eyes staring at him. Thankfully.
“Ooh, mysterious,” Daphne said. “There’s no way he’s here alone.”
“You don’t recognize him?” I said. “I thought he might be someone in a different year at school.”
“I seriously doubt that he goes to our school, Helen. I bet he’s at college,” Noor said.
It was dark, but I could make out a mass of black curls, wide lips and a mole on his chin. He didn’t look that much older than us, sixteen at the most, but he had an aura of maturity. Like taking notes in my back garden, at a party, was normal. When he stopped writing, he tucked his notebook away into the pocket of his black wool coat and we locked eyes. Uh-oh.
“A super babe has landed in your lap! Maybe this is good karma for saving Yasmin’s party?” Daphne said.
Even though it was cold I felt my cheeks flush red. I glanced up. He was still staring.
Noor nudged me. “You should talk to him, Hels.”
For the first time ever, the thought of talking to a guy with a face like that didn’t fill me with fear. Maybe it was the glamazon dress, or the fact that I was pulling off a house party, but I didn’t feel like the normal Helen Thomas. I could do this.
Next step: approach the hottie. Could I compliment his notebook? His coat? His mole that I had the urge to nibble?
No, Helen! Do not nibble the mole. Or anything else on his face.
“What the heck do I say?” I had never been in this situation before and was going to need some guidance.
“Relax. Just ask him how he knows Yasmin, and it’ll flow from there,” Noor said.
“I need the loo. Noor, do you want to come with me?” Daphne asked.
Noor giggled. “Yep. Good luck, Helen!” Then they both went back in the house, leaving me alone to talk to this mega-babe.
With my traitorous friends inside, I had nothing to keep me busy. Even my phone battery had betrayed me, so I took an intense interest in Dad’s ornamental holly bush. As I reached over to see if the berries were fake or not, I became aware of someone next to me.
I turned around. My tummy flipped 180 degrees. Because it was mystery notebook guy, sitting on the bench next to me, and he looked so gorgeous I didn’t think he could be human.
Close up, he was mesmerizing. He had smooth, tanned skin, jet-black curls and deep brown eyes framed by eyelashes so lusciously thick they’d make Aphrodite weep. It was like the universe had worked out the algorithm for Helen’s Ideal Boyfriend.
He was, quite simply, perfect.
And he was sitting next to me.
“Guuuh.” What was that sound? Oh yes, it came from MY MOUTH. Good job, brain. I thought we were in this together?
Luckily, he ignored (or just didn’t hear) my mouth fart.
“I’m Marco,” he said, and shook my hand. This, much like my mouth, didn’t do anything in response. It just hung limply. “Is there space for me?”
“Sure, don’t mind me and my bush!”
Oh. My. God. Why did my brain/mouth filter go into meltdown, tonight of all nights?
“The bush. Not my bush. And there’s space for all of us,” I stammered.
Did he think I was a complete freak? If so, he was doing the gentlemanly thing of not showing it.
“Thank you. I didn’t catch your name?” he asked with an accented voice. Uh-oh. This guy sounded as delicious as he looked. This could be dangerous.
“Helen,” I said. Thankfully I didn’t muck up saying my own name.
“Helen? I like that name,” he said. “Are you having a good time?”
“Yeah. I’m having fun,” I said, trying to give off an air of calm and nonchalance (even though I wanted to eat his face).
He smiled slowly. “I’m glad you’re enjoying your own party. It would be a great shame if the hostess was tired of it.”
All I could do was smile and nod in response. Why, oh why, couldn’t I will my brain to spit out complete sentences? It didn’t seem to bother Marco, though.
“And what do you do with the rest of your time? When you’re not looking gorgeous at house parties, of course.”
He was flirting. With me. I’d read about stuff like this in novels but never experienced it. How was this my life? Last New Year’s Eve, I was eating cake frosting and watching Clueless for the gazillionth time. Now I was throwing a house party in London, and making small talk with someone who could be a model or work in Abercrombie & Fitch. He really was that hot.
I kept my answer simple. “I’m studying,” I said. He probably thought I was one step up from a goldfish in the IQ stakes. But at least it wasn’t a lie. I am studying. So what if it’s for my GCSEs and not, say, at college?