Authors' note:

Beth: Hello, so Vickytmandy and I have been working on this story for you. It's really good (I hope). Anything to add?

Mandy: Hello readers:) I really hope you enjoy the story! Plenty of...er- hard work put into this one Ha. Okay, leave a review, yeah? And sorry to anyone who's reading 'Oh My Love' i just haven't felt like writing a new chappie just yet.

Beth: Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Summer

Was I pissed? Oh yeah, I was pissed. I trudged up the staircase, trying to simultaneously unbuckle my boots and find my keys. I really hated these stairs. Words tripped out of my mouth, I had no idea what I was even saying. Finally, I got one boot off and left it on the stair as I ran the rest of my way up. Damn, was I late. I couldn't find my keys so I decided to plunge for the door and hope it would open. It did.

"Primmy, I hate him, I really do! Never want to see him again!" I yelled, surprisingly loud. I was always shouting without thought.

"Mmmhmm, can't say I'm surprised," She answered back monotonously. I would have snapped back at her, if I wasn't running so fast. I threw open my bedroom door and searched quickly for anything decent to wear.

"So what's he done this time? Over for good, huh?" She shouted from her room . I had found a dress and slipped it on roughly before yelling back.

"Here I am – like an idiot! – and so I walk into his room and there he is, with another girl!" I wasn't really sad about it or anything. I mean Noah . . . well he was just Noah. Nothing special I guess. But he was mine and that's what really pissed me off. Okay, I was a little upset.

"Was she blonde?"

"Ginger."

"Oh."

The conversation trailed off .I slipped on the heels I kept by the door. As I was running for the exit, I realized that I had forgotten something. The cameras, of course. I figured if I was late, I was late. Funny, how we just figure those kinds of things. I shrugged my shoulders and walked over to Prim's room. She was reading at her desk – most likely something boring.

"Hey," I lingered the word awkwardly. "How do I look?" She turned in her chair and raised an eyebrow.

"Where are you going – actually dressed within the limits of British decency? You're scaring me." I rolled my eyes and fumbled with something on her dresser.

"So it looks good?"

"Not bad. But where are you going?" I put down the thingamajig and stared at her with a smirk.

"Meetin' The Beatles today." I tried to hide the little bit of nervousness in my voice, but it was quite difficult. She smirked and threw one of her pillows at me.

"You bitch! How come I wasn't warned?" I rolled my eyes. Rock stars weren't new around here, but this was her favourite band.

"Well I would have . . . but I just didn't feel like it." She stuck her tongue out at me. Was she annoying, or what? I have a feeling that I'm worse than her.

"You're bringing one home, right?" I laughed.

"Well I'll try. I'm shooting for the Johnny boy. It's only gonna be him and Paul. Not all of them."

"Bring John, he's the hot one. Ah, the perks of rooming with a photographer."

I winked at her.

"Too much?" She smiled and went back to her book.

"Do you already have it set in your mind that you'll sleep with these guys, or is it something that just happens?" She asked with fake curiosity.

"Hey, it's not like I'm a slut or anything."

"Oh, so it just happens." She stated back smartly.

"I don't sleep with all of them. It's happened twice. Perfectly fine for my age, ma'am."

"Well, you are American, I guess it's normal for you."

"Yes, Prim. All Americans are photographers who sleep with rock stars. I'm sure it happens all the time." I answered back sarcastically and walked off to get my cameras. I was supposed to be on my way fifteen minutes ago. I decided it'd be a fine time to hurry up and so I began in a rush again and ran for the door.

"Alright, bye Prim, gotta go. Make me some food I'll be starving when I get back. . . Please?" I ran out the door and nearly tripped over the boot I had left behind. I ignored the arrogant cat calls from the same old men outside, and drove off.

Finally I had gotten to where I was supposed to be. I got out of the car and walked over to the front door of the place. It was nice actually – it must have been somebody's house because it looked nothing like a studio. I lingered a little before deciding to finally knock on the door. When I did, I had regretted it. The door was opened hastily by small maid.

"Oh, hello. Are you Summer? The photographer?" Ha, that sounded funny coming from her. I smiled awkwardly and almost forgot what I was here for.

"Oh, yeah. That's me." She smiled back and let me in. I followed her around to where I would be taking the photos. I wondered if they were here yet.

"Here it is." I peeked in the room from behind the maid and saw the heads of six men turn around to the voice. Yup, there they were, that was them. The famous John and Paul. I hadn't known much about them really. I guess it was just all the hype around them that made me so shaky. They're only human, right? I hope.

Two men that I didn't recognize stepped up.

"Ah, Summer? Hi I'm Brian." I shook his hand and smiled.

"Nice to meet you, sir." I put my stuff down and waited for everyone to sit back and relax around here. It felt horrible to make people uncomfortable. It happens a lot when you're new somewhere, I guess. I noticed John coming up from behind Brian. I wasn't sure if I should turn and introduce myself or just play it cool.

I turned quickly and nearly bumped into him. He smiled and rolled his eyes in a 'that's so typical' kind of way.

"Ey, I'm John. John Lennon – but I guess you know that." I smiled and took his hand.

"Cheeky much?"

"Very." He kissed my hand sarcastically and I smirked trying to pretend that I wasn't amused.

"I'm Summer. So, where's Paul? He's my favorite." I joked then quickly blushed when Paul came up from behind John.

"Hey, Summer. I'm Paul McCartney." I giggled as he also pulled the sweet gesture of kissing my hand. Must be a British thing.

"Hey, Paulie why don't we stand and look pretty to get this thing over with, yeah?" John snapped and Paul huffed as he walked over to photo area. I felt stupid. Like if it was completely obvious that I was watching their every move. Pathetic, actually.

I snapped the photos and packed my stuff up afterwards. I was tired. My feet hurt and I was sure that I was madly in love with John Lennon by now. Well who wouldn't be these days? He was quite the handsome lad. Time had passed and it was already dark out. All the other guys besides John and Paul had left. I slung my bag around my shoulder and yawned. I took my heels off and hooked them on my fingers.

"Alright, it was fine meeting you. You boy's photograph wonderfully, really."

"Hey, we're just glad you're not a fifty year old bloke. Say you're not too tired, right?" Paul smiled sheepishly.

"Um, no not really."

I lied. But you would too, hey. I noticed John rolling his eyes and messing with his hands.

"Why don't you come to this thing there is. It's like a party I guess. Y'know, for pictures." He winked and hooked his arm in mine.

"Oh a drink wouldn't hurt, huh?" I looked back at John.

"You coming?"

"No shit, Sherlock." He grabbed his jacket and walked in front of us.

The party was fun. It was the kind of place that was just bound to wake you up. Loud. As. Hell. Which was great, in my opinion. I spent the night dancing around with Paul and whoever else lingered around the place. I leaned on the bar with my drink. Paul was only a few feet away talking to John. It wasn't like I was intending to eavesdrop, but I did anyway.

"John, I can't do it. I forgot Jane's going to be home tonight. I'm screwed. She's yours." I shook my head at the stupidity of it. Did they really think like I was going to give in all that simply? I mean, I was. – For Prim of course (mental wink) but the idea that they already expected it to happen made me feel sort of gross. Johns smirk was almost audible. He walked up to me and grabbed my waist.

"I know you've been waiting for me to ask you all night. Let's dance."

"Calm down Lennon, why don't we just go to my place?" I decided to give him a pull. I mean, who was I kidding. I just caught Noah cheating; I wasn't going to sleep with this Lennon guy. Just make him think I was. I giggled a little at myself for tricking him so easily.

"Right, you get it. Lets head out. Paulie's getting a cab." I was the only one who had brought a car so we drove back to my place in it. The car ride was silent. Finally when we got there I laughed to myself a little.

"What?" He smiled and looked at me curiously. I shook my head.

"Nothing. Weird isn't it? I feel like I'm making a deal here. Not cool." He smirked and pulled a funny face. We walked up the stairs and I opened the door quietly in case Primrose was sleeping. We walked in and John leaned on the door.

"Hey this place isn't too bad, y'know."

"Yeah, I know." I answered back mindlessly as I poured us some glasses of wine. I gave one to him and lead him to my room.

"You can sit anywhere." It wasn't like there was anywhere to sit anyway. He laughed and sat on the rug. I laid on my stomach and took a sip of the wine. I waited for him to pull a move – very typical. But he didn't. Really he didn't. I was surprised but I didn't mind. We joked for awhile. Everything's funny when you're a little buzzed.

He finished all of his wine and got up to put the empty glass on the dresser.

"This is nice, what is it?"

"Wood."

"Obviously, smart arse. I meant what kind." I made a fart noise with my tongue and mocked him.

"Norwegian, you ass."

"Oh feisty."

I looked over at the clock. It was already two. I don't know why but I laughed. He turned around and mocked my giggle.

"What so funny?" I nodded my head and yawned.

"Besides your ugly face?" I joked. He pulled me closer and nudged my head.

"Now I was nice enough not to say anything about yours…"

"Not too close, Lennon. I work in the morning." I began to laugh again. He teased me and got even closer.

"I don't."

"Alright, it's time for bed." I pulled away from his hold on my arm and walked over to my bed. I giggled a little when he followed me. I got under the blankets and before he could get in, I kicked him a little.

"What are you doing?"

"You said it was time for bed." He answered innocently and raised his eyebrows. I rolled my eyes.

"Go home, John." He huffed and walked to the door. He opened it and closed it quietly behind him.

Prim

I could tell when I woke up that it was already afternoon. The spring sun was high in the sky and streamed through my thin curtains, the light dancing in yellow kaleidoscope patterns on my carpet. Through a chink where my curtains didn't quite meet, a beam of warm light shone down, illuminating the swirling dust like fireflies.

I rolled over, trying to go back to sleep and failing miserably.

After however long it had been I kicked off my blankets and stood in the comparatively cool air of the room. I stared at the firefly dust a few seconds more before flinging the curtains open and blinking in the sudden sunlight.

My eyes and brain still hazy from sleep I wandered down the hallway to the bathroom. The lino was cold against my feet as I came to the sink. I looked in the mirror and ran my fingers through my bird's-nest-like hair in an attempt to flatten it down.

As I was doing this my brain started to wake up and I became aware of a soft breathing sound (like someone was sleeping) coming from the bathtub. I stopped still and listened intently, sure that my mind was playing tricks on me.

I pulled back the shower curtain to reveal a man in a suit lying there, his face turned to the wall. Fast asleep.

"What the fuck!" I yelled. The man woke up with a jump. "Why are you in my bathroom? Who the hell are you?"

He looked up at me from the tub. Dazed and confused he said, "Calm it, love. I was only..."

"Don't you 'love' me," I trailed off. This wasn't a random guy that had somehow found his way into the bathtub. Staring up at me was none other than John Lennon. The John Lennon. I remembered Summer telling me last night that she was going to photograph John and Paul. "Oh. my. God." I said, lost for words (which didn't happen very often), "You're... I'm...What..? Sorry," I held out my hand and he shook it, standing up as he did so.

"John Lennon," he introduced himself with a smirk that showed he knew that I knew who he was.

"Prim. Primrose Clarke,"
"Well Miss Prim-Primrose Clarke, it's nice to make your acquaintance," he bowed slightly, flourishing his arms wildly to show it was a joke. I blushed and giggled slightly. "I like your P.J.s," he said.

I looked down and examined myself. I was wearing an old lilac night-dress that was quite a bit too short and thread bare. In all my daydreams I had not imagined meeting John Lennon dressed like this. I winced as I became aware of my appearance. I turned back to John.

"Thanks," I giggled, blushing profusely. John Lennon had just complemented me. The fact that it might have been a joke seemed irrelevant at that moment. Self-consciously I pulled on my nightie, wishing it was a few inches longer,"I'm going to get dressed," I announced turning to leave the room.

"What's the point in putting clothes on?" He asked. I stopped and turned.

"And what do you mean by that, John Lennon?"

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, looking me up and down.

"Do you really think I'm that easy?" I asked, John didn't answer but carried on staring at me, "Would you please stop undressing me with your eyes?"

"Would you prefer me to do it with my teeth?" he winked at me. I rolled my eyes.

If I'm completely honest, there was a part of me that did want to shag John; that would be a story to tell the grandchildren (or maybe not)! Then there was another part of me that kept reminding me of all the times I'd teased Summer about her fling with Bob Dylan last year and I knew I couldn't. The idea of her calling me a hypocrite bothered me. Then there was the most prominent part: the part that told me life was a game and if I had sex with John, he would win this round. And if I was anything I was a stubborn, sore-loser so I turned and walked back to my bedroom.

"I'm going to get dressed," I repeated, laughing and leaving the room.

I dug around in my drawers and wardrobe wishing I had more nice clothes. I had a few dresses but they all seemed far too formal for dossing around the flat. I got dressed into an outfit of blue jeans and a checked shirt before applying some eye make-up and heading out of the room.

When I stepped out into the hallway it was suspiciously silent. I looked around me and walked towards the bathroom. Needless to say John wasn't in there any more. I looked around the rest of the house before I walked back into my room.

"Raaaghh," he roared as I entered the room. I jumped half an inch off the floor and let out a small scream, making him laugh, "You should see your face!"

I made an effort to compose myself and changed the subject, "I don't remember inviting you into my room, John."

"You left the door ajar, that's practically an invitation," he said.

"Care to explain?"

"No, not really,"

I could see John as he looked around my room, taking in all the details. From the flowery sheets crumpled on my bed to the neat stack of rock and roll records stood next to my turntable to the corners of clothes peeking out of my chest of drawers to the heavy textbooks spread haphazardly across my desk. He walked over to the desk picking up one of the volumes, "Jurisprudence and Evidence essays by Hugo Tomes" he read aloud, "Why would you read this?"

"I'm studying law,"

"Sounds fascinating," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"It is actually. Not that you'd understand any of it," I added cheekily.

John however didn't seem to be listening, he was scanning my bookshelves intently. Eventually he turned to me looking wounded and said, "You don't have my book!"

"No I don't. It only came out, what, four days ago?"

"Three actually,"

"Well then, your book's hardly top of my priority list,"

"Why ever not?"

I stuck my tongue out at him by way of response. Being flatmates with a photographer definitely had it's perks. There were bands and singers and actors hanging around the flat on practically a weekly basis. So when I met one that I liked I wasn't starstruck.

"Norwegian wood," he said knowingly, tapping my dresser.

"You what?"

"Norwegian wood," he began to explain, "That's what it's made of, Summer told me,"

"Word of advice, John,"

"Yeah?"

"Don't listen to a thing Summer tells you when she's been drinking," I grinned. "Do you fancy a cuppa?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

For the next hour or so John and I sat around the kitchen table drinking tea, chatting inanely and listening to the radio. Every so often a good song would come onto the radio and John would start singing along and we would dance round the kitchen. At about half one John looked over at the clock on the wall and announced that he should be getting home, but it was hardly as if he could just hop on the tube so he decided to wait for Summer to get back with the car so she could give him a lift home.

At quarter past two I heard Summer stamping up the stairs, casually tripping, and unlocking the front door of the apartment.

"Primmy, you won't believe this, but..." she caught sight of John sat on the counter as she entered the kitchen. "Are you still here?"

"No," John replied, using the exaggerated vowel sounds of Hollywood film hypnotists, "I'm an illusion!"

"Well, you brought him home Summer,"

"I did tell him to leave,"

"Do ye mind talkin' 'bout me as if I'm not here," John piped up, "And in case you're wondering I do need a lift home, ta!"

"Well, then," Summer said, "You get your stuff together and I'll drive you back,"

"She really doesn't like having me around, does she?" John whispered to me, making me giggle. Then he ran out of the kitchen, grabbed his jacket off the sofa put his boots on and fastened his tie.

"Ready to go?" he called already at the door.

All three of us walked downstairs to the car. We made our way across the car park in the sunshine, Summer unlocked the car and we all scooted in. Summer in the driver's seat, John called shotgun and me in the back. She turned the key in the ignition. Our old morris minor spluttered into life before choking and stalling. Summer turned the key again. And again, nothing happened.

"Shit," she cursed under her breath, crossing her fingers and turning the key once more. No such luck, the thing wouldn't start.

"Women," sighed John knowingly and Summer and I shot him simultaneous, identical dirty looks. He leant over and turned the key jerkily. The engine made a coughing sound and some black smoke billowed out of the exhaust pipe but the car still wouldn't start. We all cursed and looked around at each other, admitting defeat.

"I'll call George," John finally said as we all climbed out of the car, "Can I use your phone?"

"Course," sighed Summer, as she closed the drivers door dejectedly. We both stared at our beloved car, praying that it could be fixed.

We all walked back upstairs.

Half an hour later, we were sat on the front wall of the building, waiting for George to show up. After a while, a yellow mini cooper drew up and parked on the double yellows on the street next to us. George Harrison stepped out and walked over to us.

"Alright, John, girls," he nodded at us and I nodded back. Summer smiled at him sweetly and he winked at her. Uncharacteristically, she giggled and blushed, "Right John, get in the car," he said.

"Wait a sec," John said and he pulled me aside, "What if I never see you again?" he said, overly dramatically.

"Well, you know where I live so there's no reason you shouldn't,"

"Shh, I'm trying to make this romantic and your logic is spoiling it,"

"Try harder then," I said. Despite that John Lennon was stood right in front of me trying to be romantic I couldn't help looking over at George and Summer who were both flirting outrageously with each other.

"Shh," he said again before leaning closer and whispering in my ear, "Do you want to know a secret?" Then he walked off and stood leaning on the mini, calling George to be his chauffeur.

"Bye, Miss Primrose," John called out the open window. George waved to Summer before starting the engine and driving off down the street.

I turned casually and smirked to myself.

"John Lennon – Sex god." Summer giggled and stepped up the stairs behind me.

"And I was just asked out by George Fucking Harrison."

ANs:

Beth: Write then(see what i did there?), well done for reading through that, and remember the review button is your friend.

Mandy: you suck. "Write then," Haaaa. And if it's your only friend, well then... good for you? Okay, and make the reviews good too. Theres nothing we hate more than a crappy review. This is our first collab:)

Beth: Do as she says...