Photography (A Beatles Fanfiction)

6 / this boy

"Yeah, I'm Bri alright," I replied, laughing nervously. How did he already know my name? "I uh, know who you are by the way. Nice to get to actually meet you, Paul." I tried to avoid eye contact, but did notice that his smile began to look more like a snarky smirk. It made me slightly irritated, but I wanted to try my best not to be hostile. I didn't even know him yet, and I was already unconsciously giving him a cold shoulder.

You see, initially, I considered Paul to be my favorite Beatle. I mean, what teenage girl wouldn't? He had the looks, the talent, and the charisma to back it all up. He was the "cute Beatle", the "ladies man" of the group. There were always girls falling at his feet for him, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they could have a chance to be his.

I then realized how much the portrayal of Paul reminded me of someone who I knew personally. He reminded me of my first love, Tanner McKay; the king of excessive flirting, dishonesty, and never giving a straightforward answer. We met when we were high school freshmen, Tanner and I. I came to that school in the middle of the school year, along with my best friend--he loved the "new girls". And he treated me like a princess, giving me more attention than I've ever gotten from a guy before. I was utterly surprised that someone so outgoing would go for a shy, timid girl like me.

Even though we were never official, he still somehow deceived me into thinking I was his only one. He deceived me and blinded me so much that I fell in love, and absolutely did not look at or want anyone else but him. But last year, I found out he talked shit about me more than he talked to me. I found out from a bunch of strangers that he never loved me; he was mostly using me to get with my best friend--ex-best friend ever since she went through with it. Karma bit her in the ass, because Tanner even ended up playing her.

I was over Tanner by then, but knowing Paul has had sex with hundreds of girls all while dating Jane Asher made me feel uneasy. He was a charming man and I'd love to have been friends with him. I really did want to base my favoritism off of musical style and discography rather than who would be a good boyfriend. But the last thing I needed was to fall for Paul and end up getting hurt by the same type of person. I mean, he was Paul McCartney anyway, and I was just the definition of average. I might have not had anything to worry about, because he might not even had wanted to get with me in the first place.

"I uh, like your dress," Paul said, his eyes wandering around me again. "Very...flowery."

"Thank you," I mumbled. Our eyes locked for a brief moment, but I quickly looked away, feeling my cheeks get hot. Stop getting tensed up, Bri. You don't want Paul, you want George, I kept reminding myself.

"Well, lads, why don't we get to work?" George suggested, interrupting the long, awkward silence in the room. "Bri, would you like a book or something to read to keep you busy?"

So that was my "meeting the Beatles"? I didn't even get to hold a simple conversation with them? Suppose this all worked like Cinderella, except when the clock struck twelve I'd be sent back home? I only wanted to spend as much time I could before it was too late. George made me feel played.

"Yeah, sure!" I replied with fake enthusiasm, my passive-aggressiveness already coming out of its shell. I was probably the most passive-aggressive person ever; it was a quality many people have told me I had, and half the time I didn't even realize I was being so.

"Alright, be back," George said. He opened the door and walked out to the studio. I made subtle glances in Paul's direction, and his eyes were still on me. I felt myself blushing again.

Paul finally fixed his focus to his bandmates and said, "Boys, why don't we start off with 'You Really Got a Hold on Me'? Just a practice. No recording quite yet. Let Eppy and Martin know."