#i'm so excited to have written soemthign for you!

[marlosbooknook]

The Time of Our Lives- Ch.1

Ho Ho Ho! Santa is here for @owlish-peacock36! Sorry it took so long to finally get something written, but I hope you like what I’ve whipped up for you! since you gave me no restrictions, I thought I’d run with an idea i’ve had in my head for quite some time now! if you remember the clues I sent way back in what felt like the beginning time, you’ll remember that my present for you is inspired by a classic 80′s movie starring a late, great heartthrob! Well, that mystery movie is DIRTY DANCING, one of my favorite movies of all time! Even if you haven’t seen the movie (which you definitely should because it rocks), I hope you still like your fic! I’m having a great time writing it! So for all you readers, and @owlish-peacock36 in particular- Enjoy!

xoxo- Marlo (the not so secret anymore santa)

The Catskills, Summer, 1963

The beat up station wagon bumped along the narrow, winding roadway, laden with with the weight of its three passengers as well as an exorbitant amount of luggage. Commanding the vehicle was Henry Beauchamp, eyes intent on the road, with the lowered window blowing back his salt-and pepper hair. Seated next to him, delicately poised on the edge of her seat, sat his wife, Julia. Het cat-eyed sunglasses sat perched on the bridge of her nose as she flipped through the pages of a mystery novel. And crammed between the luggage in the back of the car, a misshapen shape of knees and elbows, sat Claire Beauchamp. She ran a hand though her mop of unruly brown curls, pushing back the strands that were slick to her forehead in sweat. She was deeply engrossed in her own reading; a medical journal she had stolen from the Oxford University library, the school she would be attending in the fall.

Her parents, called this trip a last hurrah, a final voyage as a family to visit her Uncle Lamb at his resort in Pennsylvania. They flew across the Atlantic, bags in hand, and immediately began the next part of their journey, in a shoddy rental car Claire was appalled to learn did not have air conditioning. If she were being honest, this was the last place she would like to be. She would be far more content in her cozy home in Oxfordshire, peeling through books of medical research in an attempt to prepare herself for the year to come.

“Claire, did you hear that?” Julia questioned.

“Mhm? Oh, no. Sorry. I was reading.”

“Your father said we were only a few minutes away now!” The excitement in Julia’s voice was palpable, but Claire could do little to share in the enthusiasm.

Joy, bloody joy! She thought to herself, snickering.

“Did you say something sweetie?”

“Oh no. Nothing at all!”

The gravel road sloped into concrete as the resort grew in from of them. Beauchamp Lodgings: Your Home Away From Home  the massive sign read in bold bright letters.

Claire scoffed as she wondered how her uncle had come to this. Without any children or wife, Quentin Lambert Beauchamp had traveled the world as an archaeologist, and Claire was eager to hear his stories of the deserts of Egypt of the heights of the Himalayas. It astounded her that something about this remote forest spoke to him and beckoned him to build a permanent home. Claire gazed out the window, observing the scene. Scattered bungalows law across the vibrant green grass. Happy faces strolled across the pathways, engaged in vibrant conversation, and decked in all their resort finery. As the car came to a stop, the car lurched forward, and Claire smashed her head on the back of the seat in front of her.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!” Claire cried, clutching her hand to her forehead.

‘Language, Claire.” Henry admonished, but she could clearly see the smile creeping across his face. Claire opened the car door, and stepped into the bright summer sun. The light was astounding, and she momentarily felt like she had ascended into a separate plane of existence. But the aching muscles of being shoved directly from an airplane into a crowded car quickly sent her crashing back to reality. She jumped around in an attempt to stretch, rolling her joints and breathing a sigh of relief at the audible pop in her neck. A chuckle behind her sent Claire whirling around, crashing directly into a wall of muscle. She craned her neck to see who had so rudely laughed at her discomfort, and were momentarily taken aback by the figure before her. A pair of warm blue- eyes, crinkled with mirth greeted her, placed on an angular face, dotted to copper stubble. He has his red hair slicked back from his face, but Claire could see it curling cherub-like at the nape of his neck.  What she had run into was his  muscular frame, clearly visible through the thin white material of his tea shirt, and Claire could see a few curling strands of red chair creeping up above the neckline.

` Embarrassment flooded Claire’s features, realizing that the stranger was laughing at her peculiar post- car ride spectacle. She felt a flush creeping up her cheeks, crimson enough to match the hair of her mystery companion. He laughed again, and Claire’s mortification quickly dissipated and was replaced with a red hot anger.

“Can I help you?” She questioned, placing her hands on her tips in an effort to look intimidating. Clearly it failed, as the ginger giant only laughed harder. Fuming, Claire stuck her nose up at him. “ What exactly do you find so goddamn funny?

The man paused, taken aback by Claire’s language, but she was in no mood to back down. She arched one eyebrow in question, daring him to answer.

“I was laughing at you, lass! Ye made yourself look like quite the sight with your flailing about.”

It was Claire’s turn to be taken aback. “You’re a scot!”

“Aye. I am. And you’re an english woman if I’ve ever seen one. I take it you’re Quentin’s niece?”

“I am. How could you tell?”

“Ye have the same air as him. Stubborn. I like it.”

Claire struggled to piece together a response. She barely knew this man, and yet he was already complimenting her on traits he didn’t even know she possessed. Her friends had warned her about this type of boy, the type who oozed charisma and sent all girls within a 10-mile radius weak in the knees. She was not about to fall into his trap.

But before she had time to issue a clever retort, she was enveloped in the warm embrace of her Uncle, who seemingly appeared out of thin air.

“There’s my favorite girl!” His amber eyes, which matched Claire’s own, sparkled in excitement, and she held her back and looked her over from head to toe. “You’ve grown into quite the beauty, my dear. Wouldn’t you say so Jamie?”

He fixed his eyes upon the stranger, and it was Claire’s turn to smirk. His name was Jamie.

“Aye.” He replied, unsure of himself. “She’s a bonnie lass.”

“Indeed she is. And you best stay away from her!”

Claire and Jamie both turned and looked at Lamb in shock.

“I am only kidding! I’m glad you to have met! Claire, this is James Fraser, our resident dance instructor. He is one of a kind! You should go to one of his classes while you’re here”

Claire nodded, and Jamie stuck out his hand, which completely enveloped Claire’s on. “Please, just call me Jamie. ”

Claire felt herself shiver at the way he said her name. It was lilting, almost like a foreign language. She had never thought of her name as being beautiful until her heard it with his Scottish tongue.

He pulled his hand away, and Claire could still feel the warmth radiating off of her own palm. She was sure she looked like a dumbstruck fool.

Jamie smiled at her, and Claire felt herself smiling back, as though her muscles were acting completely on their own accord.

“Jamie, could you help bring the Beauchamp’s belonging to villa 10?” Uncle Lamb asked.

“Aye.” He turned to walk away. “‘Twas a pleasure to meet you, sassenach. I’ll be seeing you around” And then he was gone, suitcases in and, making his way down the gravel walkway before disappearing around a corner.

Uncle Lamb escorted Claire and her family inside the main building, chatting absentmindedly with his brother and sister-in-law. But Claire, couldn’t resist one more quick glance behind her, and swore she saw a mop of red hair quickly dart away.

Yes. she thought to herself I suppose we’ll be seeing much more of each other.