"Her majesty's a pretty nice girl but she doesn't have a lot to say. Her majesty's a pretty nice girl but she changes from day to day" ~
--"Hey, Anastasia, are you going to Brian's party tonight?" A voice asked from behind me.
I shook my head, "Nah, I don't think I will. Y'know, I have better plans. You?"
Cynthia had finally caught up to me, and I looked at her.
"I might. I mean, John's going to be there, so I figured, why not?" She sighed slightly. "And I was just figuring you might want to go for once, but I guess you're too cool for that."
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, come on, Cyn. You know I'm not 'too cool' to hang out with you. I'll tell you what, I'll come. But only if you promise to do me a favor."
"Alright, good," Cynthia said smirking, "because Paul's going to be there, too." She gave me a sly wink and then ran off to talk to one of our other friends.
I sighed and rolled my eyes again. Paul. James Paul McCartney. That was a name I dreaded to hear. He always thought he was better than everyone else just because he could get all the birds he wanted. He was a stuck up little snob and a prick.
But I guess I was, too.
***
I looked at myself in the full-length mirror, admiring my new red cocktail dress. It was knee length and form fitting without revealing too much. The heels I wore were black, and my light brown hair was up in an elegant bun. My makeup was what I labeled as almost perfect. I added just one extra touch, bright red lipstick.
I glanced up at the clock and my heart fluttered. There were only ten minutes left before the party. Sprinting downstairs and out the door, I started making my way to Brian's house. It took me exactly ten minutes to get there, even in heels.
When I arrived, Cynthia and John were making out on the couch in the back room. George Harrison, a friend of John and Paul, was flirting with a group of girls. Richard Starkey, or as the lads call him, Ringo, was dancing his little heart out to the music playing on the radio. He was surrounded by a group of girls as well. There were a ton of other people at the party that I hardly knew, and Brian was nowhere in sight. The one person besides Cyn that I might actually want to talk to, the host, wasn't anywhere to be found.
Making my way around the house, I did see a few familiar faces. One, in particular, caught my attention; the one man I dreaded seeing the most, James Paul McCartney. There had to be about a million girls standing around him, and I bet he'd shag them all if he got the chance. He sent a wink in my direction, but I just rolled my eyes and continued my quest to find Brian.
After about five minutes or so, I finally found him. Brian was talking with a few of his friends outside. I walked out and was immediately greeted by whistles of approval from his mates. The curly haired young man glared at them and took a drag from his cigarette, then looked at me. "Ah, Anastasia. I thought you'd never come to one of these parties. I thought you were too cool for them."
One of Brian's friends, the blonde haired one, looked at me and smirked. "Yeah, what's a nice bird like you doing here?"
A small sigh escaped my lips as I tried to ignore his comment. My eyes traveled to Brian's, and I let out a half-hearted laugh.
"Oh yes, because I'm too cool for Brian May, the most popular guy in the entire school." Brian chuckled. Then he introduced me to his three friends, Roger, the blonde one, John, a quiet young man and a very cute one at that, and Freddie, an aspiring young singer, and songwriter.
I talked with them for a good two hours without noticing the time go by. It seems they were trying to form a band, but aside from that topic, we all laughed and talked the night away. Even John told some pretty excellent jokes. At one point though, one of them looked at me and stated, "You don't really talk much do you." To which I shook my head, and Brian replied with a chuckle, "And she seems to change day by day, too." For some reason, the boys got a good kick out of that.
Everything about the entire night seemed to be okay, including that comment. That is until I heard that thick Liverpudlian accent come from behind. Then my nightmare had just begun.
---
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Drive My Car
FanfictionAnastasia was a snob. A teenage beauty queen of just 17, with an inflated ego and big dreams. She was an aspiring young actress and singer, but this typical "rich kid's" life wasn't all glamour. With a neglectful father and a nonexistent mother, Ana...