If I Fell│John Lennon/Beatles FanFiction

Chapter 1 - 25.Feb.1960

Chapter 1

February 25, 1960

Beer tastes like absolute shite, I thought as I took the first sip from my pint glass. And then I took another. Just total and complete shite. And anyone who says otherwise is a bloody liar.

But beer was cheap. And cheap meant I could afford more, and after the day I had, I only had one thing on my mind: the more, the better. But never mind that anyway, I needed to pull myself together. We weren't meeting up to sulk about my damn day.

I was early and sitting alone at the table. Something I knew I'd be made fun of for the moment the others came round. I hadn't even bothered changing after my shift, or rather my shortened shift. A tight, black turtleneck tank was now only half-tucked into a black pencil skirt. I'd tossed my apron beside me on the table, my camera sitting on top. My light blonde hair had earlier been carefully constructed into a tight bun, but now it was half falling out.

"Alright Liv?" Someone familiar said from behind me, his voice soft.

I turned in the booth to see Paul and George approaching our usual spot. Their similarly styled, intentionally disheveled hair brought a smirk to my lips. I popped out of the booth and brought my arms around George.

"Happy birthday, Georgie-boy," I said, holding him tight, nuzzling my nose against his neck. Surely I was making him uncomfortable, but what else were friends for?

Red crept into his cheeks as he rolled his eyes at the nickname I knew he hated. "Thanks, Liv." His brown eyes traveled to the table where my now half-empty beer sat. How I'd managed to drink so much in so little time surprised even me. "Drinking without us?"

Paul pulled me from George's arms before enveloping me in his tight embrace. Ever since meeting Paul many years before, his legendary hugs were something I'd come to crave. He smirked and pulled away, sniffing my face.

"Bet this one's already bevied up," Paul said.

I smacked his hands away. "Only had half. Got 'ere early, y'know."

"Thought you had work till late?" George said as we slid back into the booth. It would be easier to get more beer once the others arrived, though the pig of a bartender never minded serving me. Right perv, that one.

Paul and George sat across from me, and I ignored the question about work. George's kind, dark brown eyes seemingly taking in my unkempt hair while Paul grabbed the beer from in front of me and took a long sip. He placed the beer back down and grinned. His boyish good looks were impossible to ignore, and there were already birds looking in our direction.

"Ta, love," Paul said, chuckling.

I smacked his hands for the second time in less than a minute. "Get yer own damn bevvy. This one's mine."

"Someone's in a right shiny mood tonight," Paul said as he ran his fingers through his hair, a smile playing on his lips. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out for himself and then offered one to George, who happily took one.

I wasn't much of a smoker, but damn if I didn't need a cig to help calm me down. Residual adrenaline still rushed through my veins. So I reached forward, pulled one from the pack, and waited patiently for a light.

Both of the boys looked at me with wide, unsure eyes. Paul reached out and lit the cig, and I inhaled deeply. My lungs filled with smoke, and I slowly exhaled. My eyes slipped closed, savoring the feeling, willing the stress to melt away.

When I opened my eyes, I wasn't alone on my side of the booth. John sat beside me, playfully pushing me further into the booth to make room for him and Stu. Usually I would have objected to being shoved around, but I didn't have it in me to remove the cigarette from between my lips.