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Hey Jude I & II

I'm Jude

Some people are lucky enough to touch a star, while others try to reach them their entire lives. Of course I'm not talking about the actual luminous sphere made of hydrogen and helium but just another being like you and me, made of flesh and bone. What makes them so special, so desired and loved? Why do we obsess over them, pin their faces on our walls, put them as back grounds on our IPhones? Is it because we have more hope of actually attaining that star but for a moment; getting an autograph, accidentally brushing their skin or touching a lock of hair.

Like I said, some people go their entire lives with out actually meeting the person they idolize most. But with the technology of this day and age, it is more likely that you can stalk your way into their heart. Or humiliate yourself, scare them away and live with that nightmare for the rest of your life...

I finish writing my segment for the Phoenix Journal. Taking my final sip of coffee, I hit enter to submit the email to Roger, the president of our college paper. My bags are packed and I'm ready to take the taxi to the airport now. I've only been planning this trip for 10 years, no big deal. See my stars have always been the Beatles, I've longed to walk the streets that they have and now I'd have my chance.

Some of the best cover bands are going to play at Beatlemania 2014, a two day concert in London. Not only did I have a slight obsession with the band but with the city as well. I know they're old enough to be my dad or grandfather. I remember the images from my father's old record albums, the shaggy hair and blazers, I swear every time I see a guy with that description, I swoon.

I'm in awe of the culture shock, the people don't look very different but the place feels like . . . like I'm in another world. I'm taking pictures with my camera phone like a love stricken tourist and I don't care. But I should probably retrieve my luggage at the baggage claim. I haven't even gotten out of the airport!

I can't help giggle at the taxi cabs and the sight of my first red bus. No one should see how much I'm glowing, only those that truly get the excitement of traveling. We all live in this itty bitty planet and yet haven't seen all the treasures this world has to offer. After this trip I'll be more than satisfied and die happily, or I could have another craving and travel even further.

My goosebumps have gone on hiatus, ever since I heard accents being tossed all around me. Honestly, the least attractive person could talk to me and I'd swear I'd fall in love with them right on the spot. Probably even ask them to marry me; crazy what accents do to me. I remember listening to countless interviews with Paul, who is also planning on making a guest appearance, and closing my eyes to focus in on his voice.

Oh Paul, there was just something whimsical about him. He out-shined the others in my opinion, but I still loved them as a whole. The way he spoke in the interviews, so calm and sometimes bashful, he didn't let fame and his good looks get to his head. The talent and the quality person he is, just makes it impossible for any man to win my heart. If only I could travel back to the 50's or better yet, find a younger version of him.

On my cab ride to the hotel, my eyes sparkle at the buildings and even the sky looks a brighter shade of blue. I don't think I'll ever stop smiling at the sight of driving on the opposite side of the road, which cancels out any chance of me driving in this town. I'd crash in a heart beat.

The minute I walk into my room, I skip towards the window. Just when I think my welcome here couldn't get any better, I see drops fall against the glass. London rain invites me to sit down and type away at my first experience to this magical country. I move the desk over to the window, if I'm going to stay here a week, I might as well make it cozy.

After a few paragraphs, I step away from my lap top and begin to unpack. I realize that I was either born in the wrong decade or my incarnate spirit made a wrong turn. My temporary closet has only one pair of jeans and a tank top, while the rest of my outfits look like I raided Jackie Kennedy's wardrobe at the thrift store. I defend my case by stating some people, grown up people, still enjoy playing dress up. And if I should meet the image of the boy I have in my head, I will match him adequately.

There is something so elegant about the way she dressed, speaking of my gal Jackie O and Miss Hepburn; modest and classy. Some might mistake it for a snobbish, rich and out-dated style, but I am far from rich or stuck up. I think it's a good creep repellent, surely no scumbag looking for a one night stand will glance my way . . . and I'm okay with that!

Speaking of great names, I'm Jude. Jude Pierce. Not your ordinary girl name for an average brunette. I'll let you take a wild guess why my parents chose that one. My mother had a chance to live out the crazy fandom I just wrote about in my submission the other day. She proudly takes all the credit for getting me hooked on her favorite band and influencing my style. I always told her that if I ever met a person of that high status, I wouldn't act like a lunatic, I'd act cool and friendly.

I send my parents a text and thank them for helping to pay for half my ticket. I'm unsure what's the time difference but I know that they'll respond right away if they're awake. Unbuttoning my blouse, I then slip out of my pencil skirt. I dress more like I'm 30, which is a drastic difference then the girls my age and younger. I happen to enjoy my french cut bangs, and while some of my friends have yet to see me with my hair down, you can be sure to always find it up in a pony tail or tidy bun.

Setting my thin black framed glasses on the dresser, I'm reminded of how much Roger teases me by calling me Lois Lane. I made the mistake of telling him I don't really need them but I love the way they look, and he refuses to let it go. I receive a text back but its not from my parents, its actually a tweet. For being a girl in love with the past I sure do enjoy the modern luxuries. I'm part of a twitter fan club and they just announced an open party tonight at 7pm. My heart flutters at the thought of meeting other Beatle fans my age, sharing the same love for music.

After I take a lovely shower, refreshed by English water, I wrap a towel around my chest and sit at the desk to check my phone calendar, along with any further tweet updates. Tomorrow is the first day of the concert, followed by another day of pure music bliss. Then I have a few days left to go sight seeing and ride the beautiful red bus.

I then walk over to the closet and pick out my white straight leg pants and black high neck blouse. I love how the sleeves are cut midway on my shoulder, forming a unique flap. I slip on a thin belt, my pearl earrings and my black pointed heels. Lastly, I comb my bangs to the side and redo my pony tail, the signature Jude Pierce look. Complete with my glasses of course.

Once I grab my black long strap purse, I'm out of the suite. Unsure whether there will be food there or not, I quickly stop at the restaurant in the lobby and order a chicken salad with a diet coke. As I'm scrolling through my twitter, I notice some people glance my way, it never gets old. I wonder if by my choice of attire people suspect that I'm someone important, or a celebrity trying to "blend in". Silly thoughts.

With further details as to the address of tonight's event, I grab a cab and continue to marvel at the city as the darkness has brought on a new perspective. I'm even more in love at the blurring lights and wet streets. The cab pulls up to a nicely lit alley way, full of out door tables and Christmas lights hanging from between the buildings. I can already hear Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds playing over the crowds of people conversing.

Although the pavement is glistening from the earlier rain, the outdoor furniture is dry and inviting. It doesn't take long before I'm accepted into one of the groups and we start gushing about our love for the film Across The Universe. Her name is Linda, and I know within the first ten minutes that I've met my soul-mate in girl form. I also know without a doubt, there are stars among us. Trying my best not to stare so bluntly, I happen to exchange a smile or two.

My smile is as wide as it has ever been in my whole life and I feel invincible somehow. The group is awestruck by my name and one of the guys offers to buy me a drink. Linda introduces me to another girl there with an eccentric sense of style I wish I could pull off. Her name is Lou and she is there with some guy who keeps getting pulled away to take pictures.

Assuming he is one of those high status figures, I can't quite put my finger on it. Where have I seen him before? Without realizing it, my mouth gasps at the sight of none other than Mr. Paul McCartney himself. Feeling my eyes bulge out of my frames, I try to remain calm but my palms are beginning to sweat. Then I see that guy give him a hug and take a picture with him as well. Paul has his hand on his shoulder, talking to him in an endearing way as though he were his son. Are they related?

"How does your friend know Paul McCartney?" I ask Lou.

"Harry? Oh they've met a few times."

"I'd give anything to meet him," I think aloud.

I didn't realize I said it SO loud once I see Lou walk over to her friend. This Harry guy glances at our group and says something to Paul. Now both of them have turned around and are walking in our direction. Lou is wearing a clever grin while I'm trying to stay true to my statement of acting cool and friendly . . . not like a lunatic.

"I want you to meet some of my pals . . ." Harry says with a thick British accent. "You've already met Lou, that's Allen, Linda, Jack and . . . I don't think I know your name ma'am," he says looking at me.

"Jude," I blush. They both smile and kind of cock their heads in amusement, but my hand is still tingling from having shook Mr. McCartney's hand.

"It's wonderful to meet all of you. I hope you enjoy your evening and the concert tomorrow, " he smiles even wider and disappears back into the crowd.

Harry stays in our group. In a daze, it takes me a few seconds to realize that he is waving his hand in front of my face and laughing. I blink a few times and hear even more laughter. Blushing, I tuck make-believe hair behind my ears and collect my self.

"Sorry, I was having a silent fangirl moment," I smile nervously.

Glad to have made friends so quickly, we exchange twitter accounts and plan to meet up for the concert tomorrow. Soon I begin to think my mind is playing tricks on me or that guy Harry has been making eye contact with me a few times. He seems super friendly, so I leave it at that. Unfortunately, I find myself counting how many times our eyes meet now. Luckily my glasses allow me to play some tricks of my own.

My song comes on and by now we are all feeling amazingly tipsy. The group raises their glass at me every time they hear and sing my name. We are standing in a circle, hovering over the table, arms over shoulders and around waists in one big group hug. Harry is on my left and Linda on my right, but my ears keep noticing his amazing voice sing along. Light-bulb bursts! Of course, he's that guy from that boy band One Direction. How did I not see it before?

I pay no mind but find it peculiar, of all the people to meet. So many girls, millions even, are wishing they were probably in my position. His arm is over my shoulder and I'm half hugging his small waist and Linda's too. Then other things stick out to me. Like his height, even in my 2 inch heels, he is stunningly tall. His light cologne is so comfortable and homey, I can picture just hanging out with him and being used to his musk.

I look towards the floor and notice his tapered dark jeans hug the top of his brown boots. He has the star quality alright. Distracting myself from the eye candy, I sing along with Linda as we sway our heads together. Laughing I then look over, up at Harry, observing his curly hair frame his adorable face. Did I say adorable? Then his green eyes look down at me and he throws this childish smile into view. I'm in trouble. Good thing this is the only night I'll be seeing him.

He thinks I'm laughing while I gaze at the floor, but in reality I'm just waiting for my cheeks to return to their normal color. Out of nowhere I feel the urge to bump my hip into his, swaying to the final verses of the song, but to my surprise he does it back. Now instead of bumping into each other, our hips are touching and moving together. An outsider would immediately assume that we've known each other for more than just a couple of hours; I find myself wishing the same thing.

It's been a few hours, Linda and I are inside the restaurant's lounge, drinking water and gossiping. She tells me that her and Allen have been flirting half the night and have exchanged numbers. I'm happy for her, for the little time that I have known her. It never crossed my mind the possibility of meeting someone on a trip. My only love affair was with this city. In due time London, in due time.

"Oh there you are!" Lou shouts in thick accent. "I'm taking off, it was good to meet you Jude!"
I give her a friendly hug, she was already 60 percent into it anyway.

"Let me get your number, then we can meet up tomorrow for the concert."

I happily oblige. She seems very sweet and outgoing. Our styles are complete opposites and I respect that immensely. I wave a final goodbye and it isn't long before Linda and I return to our table outside. I see Allen and Jack but no sign of Harry, he must have left before or with Lou. I don't know why I was expecting to say goodbye to him, forgetting that he was one of those unattainable stars. He wasn't my star, but thanks to Harry I got to meet him.

I had no other plans so we just sat at our table and sobered up on more water. Jack and I talk and I find out he has an English major. When I share that I am an aspiring journalist and write for the university paper, there isn't a soul that can shut us up. Linda winks at me, apparently liking the sight of us two. Jack isn't bad looking, brown hair combed to the side with friendly blue eyes. No matter how awesome our conversation though, I couldn't shake the image of Harry.

My phone rings from inside my purse and I wonder if my parents finally got my text. When I see the weird area code I think it must be Lou.

"Hello?"

"Heyyy Jude," she sings and I smile on cue. "Listen doll, I'm here at Harry's place. He has a few friends over, so we were wondering if you wanted to come over with Linda and them."

We? "Sure. Can you text me the location?"

"Yeah, its not far at all. See you soon!"

I share the invitation with the rest of the group and they are immediately on board. Allen offers to drive as the address sounds familiar to him, otherwise there is always GPS. We soon pull up to a house and walk towards the side where I spot a staircase that leads up to the second floor. The lights are on and I hear music and laughter, its only 11 o'clock and it doesn't look like the neighbors are home.

We all walk in and I instinctively take off my glasses and slip them in my purse. I love heels but at this point my feet are pleading for freedom. I ignore the urge to walk around barefoot and suddenly forget what I was thinking about once I see Harry again. He smiles the moment he sees me, us. I can't help giggle as he is wearing a silly beanie with a fluffy ball on the top.

He has changed shirts, now wearing a white undershirt and . . . no boots, just black socks. Still so tall, he walks over and high fives Jack and Allen but then stops when he gets to me and squints.

"Something is missing . . ." he says and grabs his beanie to place over my head.

I can't help think how silly this looks with my outfit, regardless, I leave it on and kinda adjust it so I don't look stupid. Success . . . sort of. He tells us to make ourselves at home and introduces us to his friends. The names I catch are Niall, Louis and his girlfriend Eleanor. I like her style, very sophisticated and dainty. I can tell she somewhat approves of mine too, minus the clown hat.

I ask them where the bathroom is to double check this heinous accessory, normally I'm not a slave to my appearance unless there is someone I want to impress. Am I trying to impress Harry? I hardly know the guy, this is not me. I look alright with my bangs swept to the side under the beanie, but I'm determined to distract myself with Jack. So I bee line towards him once I exit the bathroom.

Our quartet is huddle in Harry's living room this time, Linda and Allen are looking more comfortable with each other and I believe she has just found her future boyfriend. I don't know if I can say the same thing about Jack, especially when Harry comes into view with two dimples that I was too blind to see before. I pretend not to notice him as he passes by me, when all of a sudden a feel a tug and my eyes are covered.

I gasp in shock yet my lips begin to curve at the realization of who it could have been. When I pull the hat off, turning to see the bully, I find Harry with the hugest smirk sitting on the armrest next to Niall. Shaking my head I try to hide the intense smile I really want to show, but am caught by Jack's curious stare.

Linda's eyes aren't as intimidating, I shrug and continue to listen to Allen's talk about a musical he auditioned for. I spot Lou, and before I walk over to thank her for the invite, I place Harry's beanie on a shelf nearby. She tells me she was just putting her daughter down to sleep, after she had woken up. But I didn't know she was with Harry.

"You guys make a cute couple," I say, more for myself.

"Who?"

"You and Harry?"

"Oh no no, he's like a little brother. I'm the band's hairdresser."

"You're more than that Lou!" Harry joins in. "She's like a big sister."

"See!" Lou points out and I laugh.

"Lou just said that," I confirm.

"See!" Harry displays that childish smile revealing two deep dents that are beginning to make me nervous. "I'm gettin' tired Lou, when can we start throwin' people out?" he laughs.

I'm unsure if I was supposed to hear that or not, in which case I should probably start saying good bye here soon.

"You could've taken those off," Harry points to my feet, and I can hear them cheering him on.

"I know, I should have. They are throbbing right now," I chuckle.

"So take them off," he says in that alluring thick accent.

"No that's ok, I'll be leaving here in a minute or so . . ."

"Why?" He scowls lightly.

"You-you just said you were tired and wanted people to leave," I'm confused.

"I know what I said, but I wasn't referrin' to you,"

"Oh, well I got a ride here . . ."

"I can take you back, unless . . . you don't feel comfortable stayin' longer," he hints with a flat smile.

My mind isn't made up quite yet but apparently my feet have a say in the matter as I automatically slip out of my heels. I'm noticeably two inches shorter and Harry's smile is two inches wider.

"Are you hungry? I have a whole pizza in the fridge, I'm goin' to warm it up."

"Sure," I nod. Then quickly pick up my heels but when I stand back up, Harry places the beanie over my head again. This time he adjusts it how I like it and I just roll my eyes.

My french pedicured feet find their way to the couch, where I sit next to Lou. She smiles and points to my head. I shrug again not sure why he keeps putting his beanie on me, maybe to locate me quicker, who knows. I say good bye to Linda, Allen and Jack, who is still giving me a glare. It feels weird to have switched groups and I wonder if his stardom has anything to do with it.

In the midst of my analysis, although I know he's famous, that's not the person I'm seeing. There are no cameras or fans here. This is the unedited Harry, a person I find very charming and nice. Soon its just Harry, Lou, Niall and I sharing a pizza and watching some soccer game on TV. While this isn't the typical group I'd hang out with on a Friday night, I don't feel like a complete outcast. We each have our own style yet share the same good vibe.

Lou falls asleep on the couch and Niall decides its time to head out. I'm not sure if I should go too, then again Harry said he would take me.

"You can't be comfortable in those clothes all night," he says after coming back from the kitchen.

"I would say the same about those jeans," I reply softly to not wake Lou.

Harry then boldly reaches for my hand. I climb off the sofa and follow him through the kitchen and into another door. Its spacious and looks like a small apartment. It has a small den connected to the bedroom and a big bathroom. We walk over to the couch, now completely alone. I'm a tad nervous, I don't know what he has in mind. I should suspect that girls immediately throw themselves at him and go all the way, but that's not me. I've only ever slept with one person, my ex boyfriend. . . a year ago.

I feel uneasy because I know that if he were to press the right buttons I would become one of THOSE girls, not wanting to. He has to notice my tension. Sitting straight up on the sofa with my ankles crossed and my hands in my lap. He sits beside me, indian style, and his green eyes are burning a hole in my cheek.

"Where are you from?" he asks in a harmless tone.

"Phoenix, Arizona."

"We've been there, last year. What do you do?"

"I'm in my senior year of college, getting a bachelors degree in journalism."

"Journalism huh?" he scowls.

"Don't worry, I won't write anything about you," I giggle nervously.

He breaks into a smile and that's when I notice he is peeling an orange. Once he is done he hands me a few slices, resembling a friendly monkey. I take them and eat them cautiously.

"You act like I'm tryin' to poison you," he grins, still showing a dimple.

"You could have these specially made, injected, with something."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

The lump in my throat feels like a tennis ball, almost choking on the mashed fruit. I wasn't expecting him to be so forward in his questions.

"No . . . if I did, I wouldn't be here."

"I don't know, you'd be surprised these days. . . so that guy, Jack, you aren't seein' him?"

"I met him tonight," I quickly answer.

"Hmm . . ." I sense there is more that he's not telling. I want to ask if he can take me back to my hotel but there is a part of me that wants to stay and see what else will happen.

"You know, it gets lonely . . ."

"Being famous, lonely? I believe it."

"Yeah, I call my mum when I can, my friends . . . but at the end of the day, I'm alone."

He seems so vulnerable and I wonder why he chose to open up to me, he could have any girl. This was nowhere written in my calendar, but here I am. Harry places the orange peel on the floor and grabs my hand, he lays his head down on my lap and then rests my hand back down on his chest, still holding on. I swallow hard and feel my blood turn to lava, melting my insides.

"Do you have a good imagination?" he asks looking at me with those intense eyes, all I can do is nod and gulp. "Would you pretend you're my girlfriend for tonight?"

I nod and gulp again.

Notes

Comments

85............why am i commenting on dirty things!

48 Is really kinky......but im still readidng it

ok so chapter 35 tells me how to cup nuts...ok

woow not even half of the book and there already fucking!! chapter 6 and 5 are the reason i don't have a boyfriend :(

Hey! Could you please answer me on Whattpad? I would be so honored to translate your amazing fanfiction into Russian.