Author's Note: Hi, everyone! Can you believe it? It's the thirteenth chapter, and I have twenty-four reviews for this story! I'm really happy and excited about it! :D Yesterday was my little brother's 11th birthday, and so I didn't have time to upload this chapter. And now, I'm free, and uploading this chapter this second! Before you read, I suggest you to read Yes It Is: The Story of My Life by Tomorrow May Never Know. The story still only has one chapter, but I'm very sure that it's going to be a great story! :D Okay, you can read this chapter now ;)

P.S. To ringorrats: Thank you for following my Jane Asher blog :D

The beginning of December 1960

Liverpool

George's POV

It was a cold night, and the waves were crashing harshly against the port. I smelt the familiar Liverpool fragrance, once again. Home sweet home.

I got deported in November 30 for being underage. Koschmider was the bloke who reported me for being underage. He was just angry, because The Silver Beatles moved to Top Ten Club!

Here I was, standing in the docks of Merseyside, Liverpool, alone. I couldn't call my parents, because I didn't really remember my home phone number. But I remembered Eleanor's.

I walked to the nearest telephone booth without any choice. Eleanor was the only person I could think of. I pressed the buttons of her phone number, and waited for a few seconds, while hoping that it would be Eleanor to pick up the phone.

"Hello?" Thank God, it was Eleanor who picked up the telephone.

"Uh, hello, Eleanor," I greeted her with my eyes closed, and holding the telephone firmly. "It's George."

"Oh, George, hi!" she greeted me back with a cheerful voice. "Where are you?"

"I'm back in Liverpool," I said, and sighed. "I got deported."

"Why were you deported?" she asked.

"For being underage," I said. "I have no money to ride a bus, and it's a long way for me to go back to my house by walking. Can you please pick me up?"

"Are you alone?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Well, I'm alone, too," she said, "at home. My parents are out for dinner, like always on every Friday nights. I have to stay at home, and guard the house."

I felt like crying. "Please, Eleanor, please," I begged her. "Please, pick me up. You know how dangerous Liverpool can be at night. Especially late at night."

She sighed. "Alright, fine," she said, and I felt really glad. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be there in a jiffy."

I smiled. "Thank you, Eleanor," I thanked her. "Bye."

"Bye." And then she hung up.

I stayed on a bench, facing to the road, and waited for Eleanor to come and pick me up. I hugged myself to keep me warm, even though I was already wearing a warm coat. I couldn't feel my fingers.

A few minutes later, I saw people coming out from the bus, and I looked from the bench to see if Eleanor was one of them. When the bus drove off, I saw a dark-haired girl wearing a red coat—a very familiar red coat—crossing the street. I knew that girl was Eleanor, for I could see the freckles as she came closer.

She stood before me, and smiled at me warmly that made my heart feel a little warm.

"Welcome back to Liverpool, George Harrison," she said to me in a comforting way, to cheer me up, I suppose.

I smiled at her, and stood up from the bench. "Thank you for the warm greeting back home, Eleanor," I said as I carried my suitcase and guitar case.

She gestured her head to the bus stop sign. "Let's take you home," she said, and when she was about to walk, I grabbed her hand, and she turned around.

Our eyes suddenly meet, and my heart was beating really fast. I could see her cheeks turning pink, even though it was really dark. And then I realized I was still holding her hand—or wrist, or…whatever, I was still holding the part of her hand. She broke a smile, and her eyes were filled with sparkles.

"Yes, George?" she said.

"Can I stay at your house?" I asked her. "Just for the night. I'll go back to my house tomorrow morning."

She smiled at me in a friendly manner. "Yes, you may, George," she said. "Come on, let's go. It's really cold!"

She carried my suitcase, and I carried my heavy guitar case.

Her house was so quiet and peaceful when I entered her humble abode. She was home alone. I wondered why she wasn't afraid of being left alone at home.

"Your parents are still out?" I asked her as we climbed up the staircase.

"Yes," she said. "They'll probably be back home around twelve or one o'clock in the morning."

She opened the door to her room. "We do have a guest room, but I want it to be kept a secret of spending the night over," she said. "And actually, I'm not allowed to invite boys over."

"I see," I said, and walked in to her room.

Her room wasn't that small and wasn't that big. It was perfect, and humble. There were pictures of the Eiffel Tower, Big Ben, London Bridge, Mozart's house, the Acropolis in Greece, and Taj Mahal on the walls of her bedroom. I thought, girls her age were supposed to have band posters instead of pictures of tourist spots around the world.

"You have lots of pictures on your walls, Eleanor," I remarked as I looked at the picture of Taj Mahal.

"It's actually postcards from my aunt in Reading," she said. "She's a traveller, and she loves to send me postcards, and give me really nice gifts from different places. I have a really nice red sari from India, red beret from France, a small bust of Mozart, and a small model of London's Big Ben."

"Your aunt has a very interesting life," I remarked as I set my guitar case next to her study desk, and I found the small bust of Mozart, and the small model of Big Ben, which she mentioned.

"Yes, she does," she said as she closed the door, and I heard her locking it. "But she travels a lot, and doesn't bring her daughter often during her travels."

"And how old is her daughter?" I asked.

"Ten years old," she said. "She just turned ten last month."

"I see." I said as I took off my jacket.

I felt her looking at me, and it made me really comfortable. I looked at her, and she suddenly blushed deeply. She managed a laugh, and waved her hand in the air.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare," she said, and looked away as she put a blanket on the floor next to her bed, where I could sleep on it.

"No, it's all right," I said. "I'm sorry that I looked."

She laughed, and set a pillow on top of the blanket. She put a folded blanket on top of the pillow. Now, I was looking at her. She looked at me, and we both blushed. We both chuckled, and shook our heads.

"I'm sorry," I apologized with a soft laugh.

"It's all right," she said. "It's sort of silly."

I lied down on the covered floor, which she prepared for me, and I covered myself with the other blanket. When she was about to go out of her room to change her clothes, I called her.

"Yes, George?" she said, looking at me.

"Thanks for…letting me stay here," I thanked her.

She smiled at me kindly. "It's my pleasure, George," she said, and then walked out of the room, leaving the door closed.

Eleanor's POV

I was alone on Friday night. I went to Paul's house this morning, but he still wasn't home. And, apparently, Mike was busy—and so was Ramona. I spent the rest of the day alone. My parents went out for old people's date at seven, and they'd be back around midnight. I didn't like staying at home alone. I wasn't afraid of ghosts, but I was afraid of murderers! That's why I locked myself in my room.

And then suddenly, I heard the telephone ringing noisily downstairs. It startled me, because I wasn't doing anything. It took me a while to gather up my courage to go downstairs, and answer the telephone.

"Hello?" I began softly, and looked around to see nobody was at home but me.

"Uh, hello, Eleanor," a lad greeted me with that familiar voice and accent. "It's George."

My heart began to beat fast when the caller turned out to be George. Okay, calm down, Eleanor. Calm down!

"Oh, George, hi!" I greeted him back cheerfully. "Where are you?"

"I'm back in Liverpool," he said, and sighed. "I got deported."

I asked him why was he deported, and he told me it was because for being underage. He told me he didn't have money to take a ride by bus, and it was a long walk from the port to his house. He begged me to pick him up. I decided that I should pick him up, even though I was alone at home. I told him I'd be at the port in a jiffy.

I put on my red coat, and found lots of money in the pocket. I walked out of the house, and locked the door from outside. I put the key inside my pocket, and walked down the cold street to the nearest bus stop.

I thought about what should I say to George, and what my facial expression should be like when I see him. Should I look really happy? Should I put on my straight face? No, he would think I didn't like to see him back in Liverpool.

I got off from the bus, and saw George sitting all by myself on a bench across the road after the bus drove away. I crossed the street with my heart pounding in my chest.

Hi, George! I thought to myself. It's good to see you again! Or…welcome back to Liverpool, George? Yes, just that warm greeting.

I stood before him, and smiled at him warmly as I put my hands inside my coat's pockets to keep myself warm in the cold December weather.

"Welcome back to Liverpool, George Harrison," I greeted him in a comforting way, to cheer him up after being deported from Germany. Poor lad…

He smiled at me. Oh, God, he's smiling at me! That warm smile that always make my heart beat really fast, and my knees feel like jelly.

"Thank you for the warm greeting, Eleanor," he said to me as he carried his things.

"Let's take you home." I said, and when I was about to walk, I felt his hand holding my wrist, and it made me turn around.

Our eyes met, and I froze in my place. Even though his appearance changed, those warm dark brown eyes didn't change at all—and I'm very grateful about it.

"Yes, George?" I said softly.

"Can I stay at your house?" he asked me. "Just for the night. I'll go back to my house tomorrow morning."

I smiled at him, and allowed him to sleep at my house just for the night. I carried his suitcase, and he carried his guitar case. I took him back to my house.

"Your parents are still out?" he asked me as we climbed up the staircase of my house.

"Yes. They'll probably be back home around twelve or one o'clock in the morning."

I opened the door to my room, and told him that we should keep it as a secret of him spending the night at my house. He agreed to that, and then walked in to my room. I followed behind him.

"You have lots of pictures on your walls, Eleanor," he remarked as he looked at the picture of Taj Mahal.

"It's actually postcards from my aunt in Reading," I said. My Aunt Mary is a very kind, beautiful woman. She has a very interesting life. She's a traveller—sort of like a travel journalist, or some kind of that. And she would send me postcards from different kinds of interesting places, and also nice gifts.

"Your aunt has a very interesting life," he remarked as he set his guitar case next to my study desk.

"Yes, she does," I agreed as I closed the door, and I locked it. "But she travels a lot, and doesn't bring her daughter often during her travels."

"And how old is her daughter?"

"Ten years old. She just turned ten last month."

"I see." He said as he took off his jacket.

I didn't know why, but I found it very…sexy when a boy is taking off his jacket. And I'd seen two boys doing that—Paul and George. God, they're so attractive. I don't even understand why they could be that attractive!

He looked at me, and I felt my cheeks blushing heavily. I managed a laugh to break the awkwardness in the room, and waved my hand in the air.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare," I said, looking away from him as I put a blanket on the floor next to my bed, where he could sleep on it. It would be very awkward if George was sleeping next to me. I didn't mind about Paul sleeping beside me a few months ago, because, well…we're close friends.

"No, it's all right," he said. "I'm sorry that I looked."

I laughed, and set a pillow on top of the blanket. I put a folded blanket on top of the pillow, and I felt George was looking at me. I looked up, and saw him really looking at me. We both chuckled, and shook our heads.

"I'm sorry," he apologized with a soft laugh.

"It's all right. It's sort of silly."

He lied down on the blanket, which I prepared for him, and covered himself with the other blanket. He called me when I was about to go out of my room to change in the bathroom.

"Yes, George?" I said, looking at him.

"Thanks for letting me stay here," he said rather slowly.

I smiled at him. "It's my pleasure, George," I said, and then walked out of my room, leaving the door closed, with a smile on my face.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading this chapter, everyone! Don't forget to review!

Recommended Song: Ruby Tuesday by The Rolling Stones