While My Guitar Gently Weeps By Beatles Novels & Stories

The air was thick with the scent of men’s cologne. I was getting dizzy. I tried to copy what the surrounding people were doing, but I only managed to move awkwardly to the beat. The dress that Grace had picked for me worked. Soon, I noticed people on the dance floor moving closer to me. I tensed up when they brushed against me. Before long, a bold guy stepped forth, and I looked up at him. He had messy blonde hair and black obsidian earrings. He looked like a street thug. He tapped me on the shoulder and theatrically adjusted his gold-framed glasses.

The way he plucks the strings and the way he looks at me at the same time is sexy as hell. "Oh dear, you look so lost..." he looks at me intently. And I feel my cheeks blushing. I'm turning red. Beatbeatbeatbeatbeat... I exhaled as I curled my fist into a ball. "Your eyes are red and tears are shed, This world you must've crossed... You said..." I took a deep breath in and watch him look over his guitar as he shifts to another fret. "You don't know me and you don't even care, oh yeah..." he moves his head back to me.

“I haven’t played in years. I pawned my guitar… when I needed money.” He didn’t say anything, but she saw the subtle shift in his eyes. Pity. If anyone knew the pain of losing a passion for music, it was Gabe. She took the guitar from him and ran her fingertips over the glossy wood of the body. It was something she’d missed terribly but never let herself think about. She looked at her hands and tested the chords. How had she missed this so much? She began the first few chords of “Arms” by Christina Perri, hoping to settle on a different song. It was one she knew well, and her muscle memory was complete with this one. When she looked up, Gabe was leaning forward, watching her fingers move aga

I pulled the left earbud out and handed it to him across the table. He took it, his fingers brushing mine. The contact was brief, accidental, but it sent a jolt of electricity straight up my arm. He put the bud in his ear. I put the right one in mine. I hit play. The soft, acoustic intro of a song filled the space between us. A guitar melody, slow and melancholic: ‘Time, mystical time / Cutting me open, then healing me fine...’ Denver didn't speak. He didn't make a joke about my taste in music. He just listened. He rested his chin in his hand, his eyes drifting shut as the music washed over him.

But my feet moved forward instead. Slowly, like in a dream. Aiden bounced gently with each step. The path curved, and there he was—silhouetted against the sunset, head bowed over the guitar, eyes closed as he sang low. *“If the tide ever pulls you under…”* The live stream chat exploded: *Who’s that in the background?* *Is that a kid?* He didn’t see me at first. His focus was on the music, the way it always had been—lost in it, like the world faded when the strings hummed.

His eyes glued on mine, “Trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat.” Harry focus his attention back on his guitar as he plucks the strings again with his lips subtly pursed before pulls his head back close to the microphone, “The fridge light washes this room white. Moon dances over your good side, this was all we used to need. Tongue-tied like we’ve never known, telling those stories we already told ‘cause we don’t say what we really mean.”

She doesn't speak more and focuses on the dinner. * "Don't make sad faces, babe. It's not gonna work today", I tell her while wiping my guitar. She is sitting on the bed while making a sad face. "Am I saying anything to you?", she grumbles. "No, but you're giving me an indirect warning", I chuckle at her as she drives her eyes away. "You have become so grumpy. Always scold me", she frowns. "Then don't do something to get scolded. Simple babe", I tell her when my eyes were glued to the guitar. I try it once. It has been a month since I played this guitar. I literally miss it. They don't allow me to play it during the recordings.

I can't believe we're a having a date here in my safe haven. Eliijah is standing proudly while watching me intently sashayed my way to where he's standing. He's holding a brown looking high quality guitar which I don't know the reason why. And when the man in front of me move his long fingers to make love along with the strings I feel euphoric. Lift your head, baby, don't be scared Of the things that could go wrong along the way You'll get by with a smile You can't win at everything but you can try

My body feels stiff, uncomfortable. Theo slides one of the earpieces of the headphones into his ear, leaning his head toward me and handing me the other. I take it, leaning in a little so it can reach my ear, too. He swipes a few times on his phone, hits play, and I hear the first few bars of ‘Hey Jude’ by the Beatles. My eyebrows shoot up and I peer over at him. “The Beatles?” Definitely not what I expected. He throws a thumb in my direction. “Your shirt today.”

That guitar was possibly one of the coolest things I owned and seeing her so drawn to it for no apparent reason made me feel some type of way. Her long, delicate fingers caressed the polished red body of the instrument and I couldn't help but make my way over to her so that I could see the amazement that sparkled in her eyes. "It was Angus Young's" I announced, my words cutting through the silent room like a knife as I stood just behind her.