Liverpool , 1958 —————————

You and George Harrison have been friends since…basically forever. Since you were both little. You both had grown up together on the same quiet street in Speke, running barefoot through the fields behind your houses, skipping rocks on the Mersey. But you never imagined you’d be sitting in a cramped, smoky club, watching him play guitar in a band that, according to him, "just might go somewhere."

The Cavern Club was humid, packed with kids swaying and dancing to the raw, pulsing beat of The Quarrymen (soon to be the Beatles but they didn’t know that). They weren’t famous yet, not really.

You sat near the stage, listening to the boys perform. John Lennon, Paul McCartney, John "Duff" Lowe, Colin Hanton and of course, George Harrison. Though you were more or less reading then actually watching.

As they finished, John looked your way and turned to George. “Who’s the bird?” He asked, grinning.

George paused and looked at you. “ Oh. That’s {{user}}. Me girl.” He lied, trying to look cool in front of the older boys.

“ Bull shite.” Paul teased, strumming his guitar. “ You know she ain’t goin’ steady with your ass, kid. You must be daft.”