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After a long evening of throwing hands with fangirls attempting to get into the arena and pushing your way through a sea of people, you finally make it to the long-awaited Beatles concert.
Your hands were sore from beating up everyone daring to block your way, bruises decorating the surface of your knuckles. Even your face took a few blows, your lips rather plump from the hits. Nonetheless, it was all worth it to see your favorite band in the entire world.
They took the nation by storm, their new and unique sound hypnotizing the youth like the second coming of the plague. You stood in the front row, legs bouncing in anticipation. You couldn’t believe you were actually going to see them after fantasizing about this very day for months. You collected newspapers, fought your way through stores for their records, you were obsessed and beyond entranced by these fab four. Though, one man caught your eye more than the others. The one and only George Harrison.
The quiet Beatle. He had an essence around him that had you hooked by the heartstring. You felt a longing in your heart for him like no other. The thought of his smile sent shivers down your spine, the sound of his voice summoned a swarm of butterflies deep inside your stomach. It was a silly dream, a foolish hope, but you desired to have him to yourself more than anything in the world. You had planned for weeks, saving up for the best of dresses, going as far as spending literal hours on your hair and makeup, hopelessly praying that you could somehow grab his attention. But even if the hair and clothes didn’t grab anyone's eye, the bruises and busted lip sure would sooner or later.
Suddenly, there was a loud uproar emitting from all over the stadium. It was them! The renowned men from Liverpool! You would have toppled over from the energetic crowd pressing all around you if it weren’t for your heavy ass shoes. Getting on your tiptoes, you attempted to secure a good look at them as they greeted the masses. Eyes darting around like a hawk, you felt your heart spike as you laid your gaze on one man and one man alone.
There he was, George…
You felt the breath flee your lungs, head light from the immense panic you felt rushing just under your trembling skin. You knew you were awfully smitten, but you never knew this would be the true extent of your illogical feelings. Even your legs began to quiver. Unfortunately, things would only escalate for you, for better or for worse. Just as your eyes were laid upon him, his own dark eyes flicked over in your direction, holding your enamored stare. You felt yourself go flush, your skin growing warmer by the second. You couldn’t move, seemingly glued to the ground. You couldn’t tell if it was the 200-pound shoes you had stolen from your mother, or some kind of new hysteria, but you couldn’t find it in you to move a muscle. The only movement you managed was subtle trembling and the quick rise and fall of your hyperventilating chest.
He saw you. He saw you.
Before you could freak out any further, a strong hand suddenly took a hold of your bicep, tugging you out of the crowd. Two security guards stood just beside you, along with a few bruised and beaten-up girls behind them with deep scowls.
“Excuse me, ma’am, I’m afraid we’re gonna have to kick you out of this event for disorderly conduct and violation of concert rules.”
Your jaw drops, heart rate speeding up in despair and anxiety at the threat of being forced out.
“WHAT? I ain’t do a damned thing! They’re lyin’ ya hear?! Get your hands off me!”
You yell, wriggling around in a violent panic as the two men began to drag you out of the concert, tossing you out the back door.
You land on your butt with a grunt against the concrete sidewalk. Staring out into nothing, you sat there, dumbfounded. You couldn’t believe it. All those months of planning, all that time getting ready, only to be kicked out before the show had even started. Slowly hunching over, you bury your face in your hands, tears forming in your eyes as you started to cry. Your chest tightened as your heart ached; your breaths grew more and more shallow as you gasped for air.
‘Was this all for nothing?’ You thought begrudgingly, gripping at your made hair before slumping over your knees in defeat.
It felt like hours had passed since then. You sat just outside the stadium, solemnly listening to the fraction of music you could hear playing just outside the vicinity. It was rather hard to discern over the high-pitched sound of girls screaming every 5 seconds. You sighed heavily, wiping a stray tear from your tired eyes. The image of George’s eyes looking into yours flashed into your mind every now and then, cheering you up ever so slightly. A delusional part of you tried to convince itself that it meant something, that your advances hadn’t gone to waste after all if it meant you had gotten him to look your way, though the larger portion suggested that the stare was most likely because of your beaten-up look.
Your eyelids began to grow heavy, your body sore from all the fades you threw. The soft muffled melody of the music from inside the stadium dared to put you to sleep, and that it did. Your weary eyes fell shut, and you were lulled to rest.
There was a sudden clicking of a door, heavy metal slamming into its locks as someone exited from the double doors. You felt your shoulders shake moments later. Fuzzy murmurs echoed inside your brain as you stirred awake, your mind in utter disarray. It sounded like the voice of a man…An oddly familiar man at that.
Once your vision finally adjusted to reality, you found yourself face to face with none other than-
“George?” You breathe out delicately, shocked to your core as your eyes shot open.
“Yes, yes, It’s me. Be still now.” He advised in a quiet tone, keeping a firm grasp over your shoulders. It was as if his presence alone had knocked the air right out of you.
“What’re…How in the… Why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be inside?” You stammer, unable to keep yourself calm in front of him. you became a red-hot mess in the matter of seconds. His eyes seemed to be keenly observing your bruises, his touches reluctant over you.
“Well, yes, but we’ve taken a break now. I thought I saw you in the crowd earlier, absolutely battered. I couldn’t shake off that…antsy feeling…” He explained, glancing off to the side in an awkward manner. The cat had truly gotten your tongue then; your voice jammed in your throat as though the thickest of honey had clogged your pipeline. You wanted to answer, more than anything, but he simply held a spell over you like no other man. After a minute or so of silence, he eventually cleared his throat.
“Uhm…Are you alright?” He managed, hesitantly returning his gaze to your soft eyes. Parting your lips, you began to mouth out the words you longed to say, unable to get them out at first. Clearing your throat just as he, you forced yourself to say something, anything in an attempt to stop embarrassing yourself. This was your one chance to impress him, and you were really blowing it.
“Yes…Yes, I am…Thank you…” You murmured, a sheepish smile creeping up your lips. How you hoped it didn’t come off as eerie. He flashed an equally shy smile, glancing away a moment before adding,
“You, uh…Look stunning tonight…”
You couldn’t help but stare at him, absolutely astonished. Your heart began to pound so harshly, you felt a pinching sensation manifesting within your chest. With a tomato-red face, you smile a goofy smile before replying.
“Oh! Um, You too?”
‘Oh my word. What in hell was that.’ You thought to yourself, mentally cursing the day you were born until being interrupted by the sweetest of laughs. It was like lying beside a still river on a serene spring morning. The sound of his soft laughter was enough to calm each and every nerve that tingled inside of your body. Your muscles began to relax beside him, gentle eyes admiring him.
“Why, I’m flattered.” He smirked, taking note of your captivated look. Coming to a slow stand, he held out his hand to you. You blink slowly, taking a moment to grasp what was happening. Your hand mindlessly reaches out for his, the skin of your palm brushing against his as he lifted you from the ground with ease.
“Here, why don’t we do something about those nasty bruises, yeah?” He suggested, leading you away from the arena, hand in hand. It all felt like a dream; one you never wanted to wake up from. All of those fantasies, those made-up scenarios, they were coming true right before your very eyes. You couldn’t decide what to do: scream, vomit, or cry. Fortunately, the thought of reason came to wipe away all of your idiotic thoughts, bringing a reasonable concern to your attention.
Slowing your eager strides, you spoke up to him,
“Wait, what about the show?” You ask, worry laced in your words. Geoge simply smirked,
“It’ll be quick, I promise. The show’ll just have to wait.”
You couldn’t suppress a giddish smile, nodding with excitement as the two of you scurried away.
The chime of a bell echoed as the door to a neighborhood drug store swung open. Both you and George entered with mild caution, carefully surveying the area for any possible fans. You walked closely behind him, making sure to stay hidden to hide your bruises when ironically it was him who had to lay low due to his fame. Thankfully, there were very few civilians along with an old woman running the register. As George walks up to the counter, you tail just a few inches behind.
“Excuse me, Madam, could you tell me where I’d be able to find band-aids? Or perhaps a cream for bruising?” He asked, his voice a hushed whisper as he leaned in, attempting to be discrete. The old woman looked up at him slowly, adjusting her glasses as she spoke.
“Ah, yes. Let me see…I believe we stock them in the back. Creams are all along those walls there.” She murmured in a quiet but sweet tone. It made you smile to yourself. Looking over his shoulder, he nodded, encouraging you to follow. The two of you head over to the back just as the woman instructed, quickly scanning the shelves' contents. You stand by his side, glancing down at your hands. He still hadn’t let go. A warm rush of blood washed all throughout your system, causing you to melt right where you stood. Eventually, George finds something to aid you, holding up a small box before you.
“Ah, I believe this is what we’re looking for.” He smirked, displaying a box of children's band-aids. You huff with a playful eye roll, lightly shoving his shoulder.
“Oh, quit that.” You frown with a bit of a smile, unable to hold a look of anger, even if it was fake.
He merely grinned a mischievous grin at your small outburst, amused by the frisky expression.
“Alright, Alright.” He insisted, holding up his hands in surrender before grabbing actual band-aids and a tube of bruising cream.
Returning to the counter, he began to place the items over the counter, rummaging in his pocket for his wallet. As the elderly woman rung up the items, she suddenly spoke up in that same, frail and delicate manner.
“You know, I was wondering why you looked so familiar young man. You’re one of those Beatles, yes? Oh, I’ve heard all about you. It’s like no matter where I look, radio, TV, newspaper, you’re everywhere.” She laughs, earning a sheepish chuckle from George. You couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle yourself, the situation growing rather humorous.
“So, who’s the lovely gal you have with you? Your girlfriend?” She teased, snickering to herself as she typed away slowly at the register. George struggled to compose himself, a nervous laugh escaping his lips as a glimpse of red began to blossom around his cheeks. Your eyes widened at the sight, unable to believe what you were seeing.
‘Is he…Flustered?’ You think to yourself, the awe in your eyes clear as day.
“Well, uh…I wouldn’t say that-” He began, stammering over his words before immediately being cut off.
“That’ll be $2.86.” She hummed, almost as if she had completely forgotten what she had asked. George deadpanned, shaking his head before pulling out a few dollars from his wallet.
Walking out of the store hand in hand, you couldn’t help but steal a glance up at George, a cheeky smile tugging up the corner of your lip. You simply had to tease him; it was only natural.
“So, I look like your girlfriend, huh?” You jab, holding a curled finger just over your lips.
George scoffs, a smile sneaking over his own lips as hard as he tried to fight it.
“Oh, pipe down.” He huffs, lightly nudging your side, causing you to let out a subtle squeal.
“Hey!” You laugh, a glimmer of joy sparkling in your eyes as you playfully poked him in the side, causing him to jolt and bend at an angle.
“Ack- you cheeky minx!” He huffs with an accusatory laugh, unable to get rid of that silly smile. What started off as a quiet walk back to the stadium turned into a jab match to the death. The two of you stood parallel to one another, circling each other like a western classic. lunging forward, he lands a few jabs at your sides, bringing about a giddish shriek. You too land a few hits, managing to get him in the side once or twice. taking a moment to calm his laughter and catch his breath, George secures his grip on the plastic bag in his hand, looking you dead in the eyes with a knowing expression.
“So that’s how you wanna play, eh? Alright then, have it your way.” He simpered, getting into a stance that meant business. Your eyes widened, soft, nervous giggles leaving you as your legs braced themselves to run.
Just as his leg made its hasty step towards you, you booked it out of there, screaming with fear and excitement as he followed close behind. Joyous laughs echoed between the both of you, a child-like happiness that blanketed your souls like a warm summer day. You hadn’t felt this way since you were a little girl. The sentiment almost made you want to cry. Unfortunately, there would be no time for that now.
Just as you thought you had bested him to the stadium, a pair of hands slipped from under your arms, securing themselves around your stomach as they pulled you back and lifted you up in the air. You let out a scream of surprise and glee following an uncontrollable laugh of pure delight. The sky looked a little brighter, the warmth of the sun growing a little softer, and suddenly you were young again.
George laughed in enjoyment just as much as he did triumph, holding you close from behind. It took a while for the both of you to come down from your ecstatic high, eventually settling where you stood.
Finding yourselves on the sidewalk just outside of the stadium, he began to delicately place band-aids over your minor cuts, promptly squeezing out some bruising cream over his fingers before dapping lightly at your bruised hands and arms. His touch felt feather-light, and you couldn’t help but feel like gelatin under his hands. Your eyes ended up shutting on their own, your body involuntarily leaning into his touch. George huffed in amusement, his lips mere inches from your face.
“You’re awfully close, darling. You expecting a kiss?” He teased softly, causing you to open your eyes. Noting the close proximity, you jolt back, holding your palms to him in defense.
“No! No, not at all!” You scramble, quickly assuring him those weren’t your intentions, no matter how badly you secretly wanted it.
As if reading your mind, his hand tugged at yours, pulling you close. Before you had time to question anything, you felt soft lips press against your faintly bruised cheek. They pulled away a moment before gently returning seconds later, the feeling sending a storm of butterflies, bees, and birds all up in your gut. Your mind went blank in that very moment, unable to mutter a word or react at all. Once he pulled away, all you could find yourself doing was stare at him in awe, earning a light chuckle from him.
“Now, now, don’t tell me the cat’s got your tongue so soon…” He joked, resting his forehead against yours, brushing your hair up along with his bangs. This caused you to wake up from your momentary coma, your body flinching away harshly as your face exploded in red.
‘No way….NO WAY.’ Your mind screamed, your heart exploding with fireworks as a shiver ran down your spine.
“I…You…Why?” You stumbled in a weak voice, confusion eradicating all sense of thought inside of you.
“Why? Why else? You’re a beauty, of course…” He smiled warmly, encouraging your return as he tugged at your hands.
“…And you bring out a joy inside of me that I’d be damned to let go of.” He muttered, his voice dropping lower as he caressed a knuckle over your bare cheek.
“If you would, May I have your name?”
You lean forward, a cheeky grin plastered over your bright expression as you tell him your name, your lips brushing just over the shell of his ear. His shoulder quickly tugs up to his ear as your words tickled him, resulting in soft laughter from the both of you.
“You’ll be the death of me, I’m sure of it.” He huffed, shaking his head with a light grin. You hug your knees close, chuckling to yourself at his words. Out of nowhere, he pulls out the receipt from the drug store and pen from his tux pocket, beginning to scribble down some numbers.
“Here, take this.” He insisted, holding it out to you. Carefully, you take it from his hand, scanning the contents written on the back.
“Is this…Is this your number?” You whisper, unable to believe it.
“Indeed, it is. Run along home now, give me a call later tonight. I would hate for this to be our last meeting.” He smiled, lifting you to a stand as he pulled you up by the hands. All you could do was smile, rosy cheeks on full display, unable to be contained any longer. You nod, your eyes panning between him and the road. In a quick decision, you promptly throw your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes to place a quick kiss just to the side of his lips. Seconds later, you bust out in a run, looking over your shoulder with the happiest of smiles as you waved him goodbye.
George stood there, a bit stunned before finally managing to shake his head, a hopeless smile grazing his lips as he glanced up to wave back at you. Your figure grew smaller and smaller until you disappeared for good, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He didn’t know where this newly formed relationship would lead, but he knew that one thing was for certain; He was smitten like no other, and he wouldn’t let you go for the world.