Photography (A Beatles Fanfiction)

3 / the quiet ones

"We should get going. Buckle up," George said, starting his car. It was so awkward seeing the steering wheel on the right side; I was so used to driving the American way, on the left. I had my license in my wallet with me, but there was no way I was going to be able to drive here in these backwards cars. They'd probably think it was fake, anyway--considering it was issued fifty-one years in the future. I put my seatbelt back on, sat back and looked out the window. The rain settled down to more of a drizzle, and the bricks of the buildings glistened a rich, dark red.

As George backed up out of his space, he asked, "So, what's your name? Where ya from?"

"Bri Swanson," I responded, cringing a little at how it sounded. I've always hated saying my name for some reason. I didn't know why, but it always made me want to vomit afterwards. "I'm from America, Pennsylvania to be more specific."

"Bri, huh?" George said. "Is that short for anything, Brianna maybe?"

"No, it's actually short for Gabrielle," I told him. "I know 'Bri' isn't a typical nickname to get from it, but I like it better than something like Gabby. Apparently it contradicts my personality--Gabby is a better suited name for someone with 'the gift of gab', which I seemed to not have been given. That's what I used to call myself, and some of my relatives still call me that even though they think I'm the shyest and quietest person ever. I like Bri, and that's all. It's short and sweet; no misspellings, no mispronunciations, no misconceptions."

"Gabrielle is a beautiful name," George replied, looking back at me. I blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear nervously, even though I couldn't see him well through the dark. "Whoever mispronounces or misspells it is just bloody lazy. Ye don't seem very quiet to me, are you very outgoing at school? Confidence is a great quality, I like to see it in birds."

George thought I was confident? Hm, fake it 'till you make it, I guess.

"I don't have many friends at school, really. All of my closest friends and I had split apart after the eighth grade, and the last person I considered my best friend? We haven't talked since tenth," I explained, realizing how sad and lonely my life was when I put it into words.

"Aw, Bri, I'm sorry," George mumbled. "I'm not quite sure about how American school works. But still, no one deserves to be that lonely."

"I've been dealing with it for a while now, it's okay," I reassured him, my voice cracking a bit. I felt my nose tingle a little and my eyes water. No, you can't cry in front of George, Bri. Stop it.

I sat up and took a deep breath, trying to get myself together. After a few minutes of silence, I asked, "I imagine you have to deal with it too, George? Being considered 'the quiet one'?".

"Yes. Of course," he replied. "But I've come to the point where I just accept that I'm not as extroverted as others. There's nothin' wrong with not having a lot to say, love. Don't let others shame you for that."

"You don't seem very quiet to me either, George," I said, giggling. "I guess we're all just misunderstood."

"Perhaps we are," George suggested with a chuckle.

The ride didn't take much longer. George was parking again before I knew it, and he gathered his belongings from the passengers seat. The rain was picking up again. I didn't have a jacket or anything, and my hair was going to get ruined.

"Do you happen to have an umbrella I can borrow?" I asked George while pulling off my seatbelt. I secretly hoped that he only had one, so we could walk under it together and hold hands and kiss in the rain...

"Yeah. Catch," George said, throwing an umbrella into my lap. It stung a little, making a faint red mark on my thighs.

"Ouch..." I replied softly, disappointed that my fantasy wasn't going to be fulfilled.