𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 | GEORGE HARRISON

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮

taking my gloves off, i felt the wild, boisterous wind meet my wind-burnt face. "good afternoon, miss arquette," my piano teacher greeted me at her door, opening it wide for me to step in.

"hey, dee," i used her first name because we were usually on first name basis. i slipped my hat off and prepared to sit for three peaceful hours after four hours of vivacious skating. "warm ups?"

i knew exactly where to go; straight to the piano bench. she nodded, gently grabbing my coat from the side of her couch and hanging it up. i played a few chords to begin with. "have you been practicing?" she smiled warmly. in all honesty, i hadn't been, but she didn't need to know that. i was too busy writing in my journal about my adventures with george the night previous.

"of course," i lied, grinning uncontrollably while playing a scale.

dee was cool. she didn't care whether i really practiced or not, but i couldn't let her know what actually happened. it was easier to lie. "well then," she started, sitting on the large bench beside me. "shall we begin?"

✌︎︎

the next night, i was especially excited to get to sleep in anticipation of seeing george again.

i took a shower to freshen up, washed my face and even had a full glass of water before bed. i fell asleep around nine o' clock, almost too excited to even fall asleep. that same day was filled with the same events as always; wake up, go to school, go to practice, piano class, go home, dinner and bed. just in case i did see him though, i wore the bracelet he gave me.

for the second night in a row, there he was, in my dreams.
we were in the same field as the previous night. the sun was different, though. it was brighter, more vibrant. i looked around, expecting to see george in the same outfit, but, no. he wore a long sleeved blue collared shirt and jean shorts.

i was wearing a light pink sundress with, again, no shoes. he had blue flip-flops on, though. i felt the wind brush against my cheek, moving my braid slightly to the right.
"fab seeing you here," he smiled at the sight of me.

"how do you get yourself into my dreams?" i walked closer to him, wondering where the picnic table went.

his smile faded a tad, a cheeky grin replacing it. "i have my ways," he said. "nice turns in class, by the way," he retorted, sitting at the hidden table.

i sat with him with an almost disturbed face. "so you're stalking me?"

"not stalking, dear," i raised my eyebrows. he had a piece of hair that flew into his mouth before he said, "only checking up,"

"sure, sure..." i looked up. the sky was blue and green today. not a cloud in sight. beautiful. perfect. supple. the weather was simply amazing. there was a slight breeze, but i enjoyed it.

prior to my dream, i spent most of my time in class researching things that no one ever asked george or the beatles in interviews. it was my plan to ask him the greatest things he'd ever been asked.

google was my main source. i based my questions off those. except, not the dirty ones. i'd save those for when we really trusted each other. "i do actually have questions today," i looked down on my hand which had most of the main questions written on it.