Face in hands, shoulders slumped, a deep frown on my face and a blank stare. Clear signs I was glum while sitting with my friends. Usually I'd be pretty hyped, but John was here. Don't get me wrong, he was a cute boy. He was talented. But he was a dick, which made me not like him. Didn't help, too, that he had fucked every girl I knew - excluding myself of course. Which meant, lucky me, I was his next target.

Apparently, I was a pretty girl. Soft hair, pretty eyes or whatever. Paler. Tall, medium figure. And I guess I was pretty. I'll admit it. I liked myself enough. I was a good fit for a girl like me. Unfortunately for the both of us, a girl like me hated a guy like him, but he was determined. Which made me hate him even more. So John Lennon sat by me and scooted close. He draped his arm around my shoulders and drank beer. I leaned forward, my butt on the edge of my seat, eyes facing the ceiling, head forward, tongue pressed against the inside of my cheek. My knees crossed and my right foot bounced impatiently in the air. He kept playing with the ends of my hair and I kept tugging my head so they fell away. He'd grimace at me then turn back to my friends like nothing had happened and laugh.

Ugh.

Rolling my eyes caused my gaze to land on Paul McCartney. Hm. Double groan. As Paul caught my quick look and shot a small smile in my direction, I stood, snagging my guitar from the back of my chair. "I'll see you guys later," I announced. I smiled painfully and turned to leave.

John stood up too. "I'll walk you ou-"

"That's-" I snapped, spinning on my heels to face him and holding out my hands. "Okay," I said softer. My eyes caught Paul's once more before I turned back around, putting my guitar on my back, leaving my hands free to cross my arms over my chest, walking away. I didn't want to be here. Anywhere but here. No one followed me, but I could feel eyes burning into my skull. My friends' more likely than John. They believe that as a virgin I was 'lame'. Or maybe they were just jealous because they'd given theirs up so easily. I don't know. I was over pressured to have sex with John from them, mainly. He didn't know this. Fair enough to him, John Lennon did know one thing - boundaries. I just didn't know exactly where they were. I was afraid that he would be encouraged if he knew they were pressuring me. So I tricked them into not telling him. It had been a long, complicated process but it had worked. They hadn't said anything and he stayed the same, not deterred but also not encouraged. I guess I was smart like that.

Thinking of my friends and the unfortunate turn out of the day, my mind landed the same place it always did.

In all honesty, I had a crush. I don't know if that's what kept me virtuous but all the same I had one. I had an enormous crush on none other than Mr. Paul McCartney, John's bet friend, who had been the only real friend I'd had back in that room. Which was... bad. Even if he did like me, he knew what John was doing and would very unlikely be falling in love with me anytime soon. I mean, why had I even fallen for him? Fallen for a boy who's best friends with the perv who's trying to get in my pants? Not like I didn't have enough to worry about, being pressured by everyone who's opinion matters to me that to let John have his way. Yet another reason why Paul would be out of his mind to like me.

Heaving a sigh, I plopped onto the sidewalk and busted into tears the second I got outside, making sure the door was closed. Luckily for me, I had my guitar. The only thing that had ever successfully been able to calm and soothe me in a time like this while I was in such a hopeless, messy state was singing and playing guitar. It was magical- I'd swear it today and I've sworn it in the past, and I'll swear it forever on. I pulled it into my lap and let my fingers lightly tickled the strings. Then I sang, breathing deeply first so that I could start.

Angie by Rolling Stone popped in my head, so I began to play it. "Angie Angie, when will those clouds all disappear? Angie Angie, where will it lead us from here?" I stopped. No. I didn't know the chords passed that. Frustrated, I stood and began walking, holding my guitar in my arms still. I walked slowly, going towards my house, strumming.

Hound Dog by Elvis was my favorite dance-to-it song. I smiled as I played. I sang it almost under my breath. Thankfully no one was around to hear it. I laughed mid singing and started the line over again. My hips swayed and my head head rocked with my body, my shoulders bopping to the beat. I stopped and leaned against the wall when I got to the school, having gotten distracted with my messing around so that I passed my street.

At this point, I was walking nowhere specifically. I didn't especially want to go home. I wanted to go away. In my own world where things were great. Where I could make noises and wear jeans and people couldn't stare at me like I was crazy. Like they always did. See, I was a bit of a social outcast. I still had 'friends' who pitied me enough to slip me into their group - at the cost of them pressuring me to live their life styles as well. But my style and ideas and actions and morals all got in the way of me being truly accepted by real friends who actually cared and were a part of my life and involved in my feelings.

A soft sigh escaped me as I slid to my butt as the song ended, thinking that after singing it on repeat getting here, I needed something different. A song popped in mind and I smiled, switching my fingers and dragging them slowly down the chords.

"Love me tender, love me sweet, never let me go. You have made my life complete and I love you so." Smiling dreamily, I let my voice even out just louder than my quiet mumbling. "Love me tender, love me true; all my dreams fulfill. For my darling, I love you and I always will. Love me tender, love me long, take me to your heart. For its there that I belong and will never part Love me tender love me true; all my dreams fulfill. For my darling I love you, and I always will. Love me tender, love me dear - tell me you are mine. I'll be yours through all the years till the end of time."

Another voice joined mine and I stopped singing, jumping. I looked up suddenly to see the person I least suspected. He sat across from me and finished the song. "Love me tender, love me true; all my dreams fulfill. For my darling, I love you... and I always will." We fell into silence. Realizing I wasn't going to say anything, he made the first move. "You have a beautiful voice." he complimented, smiling.

My shock and awe melted as I threw up my wall and guarded my emotions after leaving them exposed while I thought I was alone. "Thank you Paul," I responded quietly back, my eyes falling to my guitar and his chest and his feet and his hair and my knees - anywhere but his face.

If he noticed, he didn't point it out. "Why haven't you sang in front of any of us?" He asked, looking up at me from his hands; I'd caught the head movement as I stared at the bricks around his head.

My shoulders popped up in a shrug to brush it off casually. "I... Haven't been asked," I admitted. Honestly, that was only half of it. See, in our group, if we sang in front of each other, it was because we were either John or we were asked by John. It was often with the girls because he liked to flirt like that. But that hadn't worked on me. Once he'd tried to teach me how to play guitar and I ended up teaching him a thing or two. He'd never asked me to sing because no one wanted to hear me and I didn't want to. So... Ya know.

Paul hummed and nodded. "How long have you been playing?" He followed up.

My head tilted from side to side as I weighed the question and counted the years. "Since I was about... Five or so? My mum was big about that stuff." My eyebrows scrunched.

"Your mum? You never talk about her..." He said.

I shrugged, this time uncomfortable. "She's not... Important."

Paul took his cue to shut up and ended it with a nod. "Can I hear you sing more?" He asked quietly.

Finally letting my eyes fall on him properly, I looked at him carefully. "I don't want to hang out here. I kinda wanted to, ya know, head home." Now that my moment of escape had been spoiled and my hiding place had been found, I wanted to leave. I didn't want anyone here, least of all Paul. Mostly because I DID want him here... But in a way that I never would have him.

He met my gaze. "You can come to mine. If your... Guardian doesn't mind it. You can hang out a while." He shrugged to feign a casual vibe he hoped would cover the nervousness he seemed to be feeling.

My eyes burned into his and I tried to hide a smile but failed slightly - a quick side grin slipped for a second. He saw it, and a small smile blossomed on his lips as well, sticking. That was all it took. "I live alone. I'm sure I won't be missed."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Alone? At sixteen?" He looked appalled.

A sigh escaped me and I looked away again, at my guitar. "I technically live with my sister. But she's never home. She secretly lives with her boyfriend..." I don't know why I was telling him this but I felt compelled to explain. "She lets me stay in that house if I keep it clean and keep her secret." I shrugged again, self conscious. My eyes wandered to his face again, determined this time to stay.

"She pays?"

My stomach dropped. "Our father." My nose scrunched in disgust and I shook my head, letting my eyes fall to my feet and looking away yet again. Guess I failed. "Anyway. I can come over. However long your mother will let me." I looked at him once more, wearing a sad smile and tilting my head a bit.

He smiled as well, pushing away the negative mood and the figurative clouds over my head. "Well then. Allow me to escort you." He stood, helped me up, then offered his elbow and I smiled, taking it after I slung my guitar over my back. We silently walked in a pleasant peace to his house until I had a bit of realization. "How did you know where I was?"

Instantly his face was swallowed in a raging blush and he was the one who couldn't look at me. "Uh, I followed you." I rose an eyebrow and he defensively rushed, "You looked really upset and I was going to confront you at your house but then you kept going and I got really worried... Also you sing really well and I enjoyed listening..." His voice got quiet.

A little giggled bubbled up from me. "You're a good friend, Paul. Thank you."

His smile seemed to weakened a bit. It confused me. "I try my best." Before I could press him about the slight mood drop, it was gone as we reached his house. We went inside and I walked ahead, running a hand through my hair to take in the house as he closed the door behind us. It was nice. Cozy. Warm. Homey. It fit Paul so well. Of course he lived here... He guided us to the living room and I sat on the couch after invitation, pulling my guitar forward as not to damage it. Then I began tuning without reason, distracting myself. He made me very shy. To my surprise, Paul did not sit across from me or on the chair diagonal from me but on the small space of the one and a half person couch, pulling a guitar he now held forward too. Of all the places he could have sat in this good sized living room...

Not that I minded.

He pulled up his guitar and strummed lightly, playing a familiar song. "If you find your sweetheart in the arms on a friend - That's when your heart break begins. When the dreams of a lifetime must come to an end, that's when your heartbreak begins." He looked at me and my heart beat rate spiked. I knew it was just a song, but nothing felt like just anything when Paul was looking at me. Even if it was by accident, which had happened before. I really was THAT weak for him. "Love is a thing you never can share. When you bring a friend into your love affair - That's the end of your sweetheart. That's the end of your friend. That's when your heartbreak begins." Quiet, I watched him for a few chords before I jump in, harmonizing. I looked down at my fingers as I played, listening to him sing and play as I did the same. When the song ended, I smiled down at my guitar. I felt fingers on my chin as my head was dragged up and lips on mine as he-

Oh. Shit.

My brain broke down but my body responded, moving my lips against his. My free hand not holding the pick I'd been playing with went to his hair and pulled him closer, moving my guitar gently to leaning against the arm of the couch so that my lap was free, the pick slipping into my pocket mechanically. My eyes closed and I didn't jump when his hand went to my waist - even though my brain screamed: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK! At one point he also put his guitar down and we drew even closer. He pulled back and I opened my eyes. We stared at each other and say there, shocked. "W-woah."

He laughed once I broke the silence. "Woah indeed," he agreed. Suddenly a thought hit me. I sat back and looked at my guitar, eyebrows pulled together. I swallowed tears. "You ok?" He asked.

I stood suddenly, grabbing my guitar and throwing it over my shoulders as the strap lay over my chest. "I have to go," I croaked, looking away.

"What?" He asked, startled and standing too.

Not looking at him, I made my way to the door. "I-I have to go." I slipped outside and began making my way to the street and back to my house.

He came after me. "Wait! I'm sorry. I just... The song. And you were singing... And Then... Ugh. This is all a mess."

"Drop the act, Paul!" I snapped, jerking sharply around to face him, my hands holding my chest strap so my guitar didn't fling around wildly. He paused and looked at me, confused. "I should have known! Go and 'jam' with you. I'm so stupid!" I kicked the gate open, storming out of the yard before turning to him again, only a little surprise to find that he'd been following me closely the whole way. "I guess I let my crush get in the way. John Lennon's best friend, interested in me? Even as a friend... What a pathetic, nieve notion. Ugh!" I spun back around and started walking again.

I felt an hand on my arm as someone pulled me back around. Paul looked at me very seriously. "I like you," he told me firmly, putting a hand over my mouth as I went to snap something back. "I do. I brought you to be friends because I wanted to get to know you because I have a ginormous crush on you. I have since-"

My eyes watered. "Shut UP!" I said, tearing my arm away and stepping out of reach of his hand. "Do you think I'm stupid? Your best friend is trying to have sex with me. What? Is it a game? See who can pop the virgin first?" I demanded, crying full out now. I stopped walking because I couldn't see.

Paul got closer, stepping in front of me and cupping my face, wiping my tears away with his thumbs. "No. That's just John. He's an arse to save face. He's actually a really good guy. Lost and desperate but he's getting better. I swear! He promised to be nicer to you - especially because I told him that I had such a huge crush on you. We talked officially after you left. That's why I even had time to hear you sing- I had to catch up with you. He's going to back off completely! He thought you might like him and he didn't want me to get hurt so he wanted to test it. When you stormed out we really talked and he decided that your feelings for him were just talk from your friends - he would stop. Because I care about you. Please, believe me..."

Chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath, I froze. My mind raced with how quiet John had been recently. How he'd given me so much more space and had been so much more genuinely, cutely flirtier than just putting his arm around the back of my chair or tugging on my hair teasingly like the last ditch effort he;d taken today. Or how, most recently, it had been an all different kind of teasing altogether. More to get my attention or bring me into the conversation rather than to get close to me or bring my eyes to him. I thought about the possibility of it being a test flirting turning to simply friendly teasing instead of a lull to draw me in. I wracked my mind and saw all the little things that made a million times more sense as attempts at friendship rather then moves to get at me. They were lighter and more reserved and dorkier and... friendlier. Even the hair pulling today, which was less his fingers fully carding through my hair and more messing with the ends just to get my attention. It would be so easy to believe that John was trying to be friends with me, get to know me, if his best friend had feelings for me. He really didn't know me at all. Maybe... Maybe... Maybe...

No. Way.

Starting to accept this I looked up, staring at him. "R-really?" I was scared to believe it. He nodded. "Do you know how terrifying it is to trust you?" I demanded.

He laughed. "You won't regret it, I swear." I bit my lip, worried and torn. "Don't do that," he said suddenly.

"Wh-what?" I stuttered, thrown off guard again.

He frowned. "Bite your lip. Don't do it," he clarified, his voice deeper somehow.

Something bubbled inside of me. "Oh yeah?" I raised an eyebrow, a weird urge in my stomach rising as I barely hid a smirk. "What about this?" I opened my mouth a little and ran my tongue against my top lip.

Paul groaned quietly, his hands moving to my waist to pull me close. Everything else fell away and my worries about John cleared from my mind. All that mattered was Paul. He kissed me again, but this time I basically pulled him into it. This was kiss was gentler but more passionate. More open as we both accepted what was between us and fought to just go full out right here in the middle of the street. This boy would be the death of me.

This time when we parted, his eyes were heavy and fluttering as he blinked and tried to clear his head. "Damn. I want to do that all day..." I whispered. I blushed when I realized I'd said that out loud.

"Well..." He smiled, his hand moving from my neck to push a piece of hair behind my ear. "Be my girl?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

I smiled. "Sure." He smiled wider. "You better be behaved though, McCartney," I warned teasingly.

He winked. "Only if you are," he shot back.

Shaking my head, I laughed. "I have a hard time controlling myself around you, ya know? But I have to... Ugh."

Chuckling, he leaned his forehead against mine, both of our eyes closing. "I'll make sure you're keeping to your standards, Love."

Unable to help myself and no longer desperately hiding from him, I actually melted into him. "What a gentleman," I cooed.

His hands rested on my hips, letting my guitar have my back. "Always." I smiled and kissed him again. "That will never get old," he hummed.

"Agreed," I sighed contentedly.

Paul leaned away, looking around as we both realized we were out in the open being dorky and coupley and gross. "Wanna play some more?" He offered, nodding back to his house.

Something in his tone made it hard not to bust up laughing. "Guitar?" I teased, leaning back and quirking an eyebrow.

One of his eyebrows curved as he fought not to smirk. "Uh, yeah," he mumbled, his expression an obvious false innocence. It was an obvious joke though- the dirtier meaning hadn't entered his mind until I'd brought it up.

A short laugh popped past my lips before I caught it and settled on tilting my head and playfully glaring at him. My boyfriend. My boyfriend. Holy shit. "Sure. Let's play guitar," I stressed, smirking. The last minute seemed to have stretched for weeks. I wiped the remaining tears off my face and shook my head softly, unsure of what was going on or how it had suddenly made such a sharp turn into such a starkly differently direction. He laughed and took my hand so he could guide me as we went back inside. This time we sat really close and did just that. Sang rock and roll songs and love songs and laughed and kissed at least two more times. I went home that night and beamed at my white ceiling. The reality of the situation was only finally hitting me. This was real. "Holy. Shit..." And then, after a lot of squealing and talking to myself and tossing and turning, I finally rolled over and fell asleep.

Holy shit indeed.