It’s Not What You Think. Chris Evans. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Chris Evans
Издательство: HarperCollins
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Жанр произведения: Биографии и Мемуары
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9780007327256
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      ‘Yeah, I’m OK thanks—just checking out the wall.’

      ‘I know, I’ve been watching you for the last few minutes. I’d been trying to find you since break started and then I saw you over here.’

      ‘Oh…’ (Brilliant reply, Chris, simply brilliant. That’s how you get your girl, with a weak and pathetic ‘Oh.’)

      ‘I heard what happened last night and I’m really sorry, he’s such an idiot.’

      ‘Oh…’ (I was getting good at this ‘oh’ business.)

      ‘He’s not my boyfriend, you know, at least definitely not now. I was sort of seeing him but not really, I mean, we hadn’t ever done anything.’

      ‘Er…I see.’ (Hey, look at that, I was evolving, like prehistoric man—only slower.)

      She was still smiling, she really did have the greatest smile and she had more to say.

      ‘So now he’s not my boyfriend, that means we could go out together…if you liked?’

      If—I—liked?

       IF I LIKED?

      Of course I liked. Tina, I was in love with you.

      ‘But…’

      Here’s a little tip, whenever anyone gives you or offers you something you want, something you have longed for, something you have only ever been able to dream about before—do not—whatever you do—start your next sentence with the word…but.

      It’s pointless, there is no need, it’s not heroic or grateful sounding. To be meek at these times serves absolutely no purpose whatsoever. It just sounds wet and feeble, it introduces tedium into the proceedings and, above all, it’s completely and altogether stupid.

      ‘…but…’ (Aggggghhhhh!!! Shut up, you cock.)

      ‘But what?’

      But nothing, you prick. Say—‘But nothing.’

      (The only word that should ever really follow ‘but’ is the word ‘nothing’, then the world would be a better place and we would all get more things done and there would be less wars.) Tell her you love her and you love her smell and you always have and you always will and that you would walk over hot coals just to be able to get her back her rough book.

      ‘But…’ and then it came, the most ridiculous self-pitying, crap line of all time, ‘…why would you want to go out with me?’

      Genius.

      ‘I always have, ever since we first met. I think you’re really nice and funny. I was going to ask you anyway. I just had to sort out the thing with Shit For Brains.’

      ‘Ha ha, that’s what I call him.’

      ‘Ha ha—see, we already have something in common…So what do you think?’

      ‘I think yeah, absolutely.’ This was more like it. Acceptance is everything in most occasions.

      ‘Brill, so I’ll wait for you at home time by the gates then. You can walk me back to ours.’

      Wow bloody wee. She was amazing, different class, she had sealed the deal—almost.

      ‘Alright,’ I said, ‘I would love to do that.’

      ‘I would love you to do that.’

      ‘Great,’ I said.

      ‘Fab,’ she said.

      ‘Fine,’ I said.

      ‘Well…’ she said.

      ‘What?’ I said.

      ‘Aren’t you going to kiss your new girlfriend?’

      Oh my goodness, this girl was the tops, the nuts, it didn’t get any better than this and if it did I didn’t want it.

      ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I would love to do that.’

      ‘I would love you to do that.’

      And then we kissed—briefly but softly and beautifully. We pulled apart and smiled.

      ‘Should we do it again?’ I asked.

      ‘Yehhhh,’ said Tina enthusiastically.

      This time we went for it, a full-on playground snog and it was earth-shattering. Tina was totally into it, I was totally into it. Unfortunately the teacher on duty at the time was not so much into it.

      ‘Can you please stop that kissing, you two?’ said the master in question.

      When we pulled apart I remember him being visibly shocked to see who it was. As I said before, Tina was a model pupil.

      ‘And Tina, you should know better.’

      Without missing a beat, she replied, ‘Sorry sir, we weren’t really kissing, we were practising for later.’

      And with that, the coolest girl ever to walk Planet Earth grabbed me by the tie and said, ‘Come on Chrissy, this way.’

       Shit the bed, I had a girlfriend and she was the greatest woman in the world.

       Top 10 Schoolboy Errors

       10 Setting my pyjamas on fire whilst playing with matches. I was still in them at the time

       9 Not being grateful for my first big bike one Christmas morning (I went on to love it)

       8 Not going to see Queen at the Liverpool Empire (big big big mistake)

       7 Smashing my toy garage up with a hammer in a make-believe bombing raid

       6 Playing willy guitar and getting caught by my mum

       5 Lending my Scalextric to Andy next door and never asking for it back

       4 Thinking Mrs Tranter wanted to go out with me even though she was married with two children and I was only twelve

       3 Thinking Jill from the chemist ever even noticed me at all

       2 Listening to Mandy S. in the playground that day

       1 Succumbing to the allure of the dreaded netball skirt

      Tina and I were to enjoy the most idyllic of teenage courtships—sexless but beautiful. Maybe it was beautiful because it was sexless, I don’t know. Sure we messed around a bit but no more than that. What we did do, however, was love each other madly—twenty-four hours a day madly, seven days a week madly. Madly, madly, madly.

      What is it about ‘first love’ that makes it so incredibly special? It should be bottleable. (And while we’re at it—why doesn’t the word bottleable exist? We need to be able to bottle more good things in life, what with all the terrible things that are going on. But how do we stand a chance, when the word that defines its very possibility is not even in our language? If things that can be negotiated are negotiable and things that can be done are doable, why can’t things that can be bottled be bottleable.)

      Anyway I digress—I used to see Tina all the time. Before school, during all breaks and lunchtime, after school, every evening—usually at hers, and then every weekend. And when I wasn’t seeing her I was thinking about her. She consumed my mind, my heart, my soul, my very spirit, my whole being. I couldn’t get enough of her and she couldn’t get enough of me. We did everything together—except the rude stuff, as I’ve just mentioned but for