Elaine's head rests on my lap, and I gently run my fingers through her hair. It's something my mom does when we need comfort. My sister is running on fumes, and I'm sure she will sleep for a week when we get back home.

Whenever I think she has fallen asleep, I look over, and she's tapping her foot in time with Joe Cocker's drummer.

I place my head on Bobby's shoulder as Joe continues his soul-filled verses.

Mesmerizing is the only word I can think of to describe Joe Cocker's performance at Woodstock. His mix of power and harmony causes an out-of-body experience.

You can tell Joe gives every piece of his heart when performing, and I can't take my eyes off him.

Even when Bobby begins to rub delicate circles on my thigh, Joe Cocker still holds my undivided attention. He sings with such confidence, using his body to prove a point. To some, his quirky movements might look like he's having a fit, but to me, the music is just taking over his soul.

"He is very talented," Elaine says with her eyes closed. When I look down at her, she has her fingers drumming along with the song. Her eyes remain closed, but she's wearing a beautiful smile.

"You should see the way he imitates playing the guitar and drums. The dude is a legend." Rose pulls her sunglasses down her nose and squints. "Also, he has killer sideburns."

We all laugh at Rose's comment, but she's not wrong. Joe Croker does have a magical ability to make his air guitar skills look like he is genuinely making sounds with his pretend rifts.

Bobby shifts and reaches into his pocket only to pull out a doobie and his lighter. After it's lit, he takes a hit. There is something about the way his cheeks are hollow when he inhales that I find incredibly hot.

I remember the first time I smoked with Elaine, Rose, and Bobby. It was my freshman year of high school.

We just finished a family gathering celebrating Bobby and Rose's sixteenth birthday. Our parents were upstairs having after-dinner drinks, and the four of us went to the basement to hang out.

It burned so bad when I took my first hit. It was like my chest was on fire. I coughed for a solid minute, and Elaine and Rose could not stop laughing. Bobby was the only one to show concern. He got up from his chair and kneeled in front of me. He pulled me into a hug and began to rub my back as I hacked up a lung on his shirt.

My flashback ends when Bobby kisses my temple. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I say with a nod. "Just thinking of a happy memory."

Cheers erupt around us as the band plays the final notes of Something to Say.

Joe leans in close to the microphone and says. "We're gonna leave ya with the usual thing, the only thing I can say, that I have said to many people. This title, uh, just about, uh, puts it all into focus. It's called A Little Help From My Friends. Remember it."

The song starts with an electric keyboard solo, and of course, Joe has his fingers banging in the air as if there was a piano in front of him. He bends down to grab a drink of water, no doubt preparing his pipes for a performance of a lifetime.

His voice is extraordinary, like nothing I have ever heard before. It's raspy but also somehow sweet and soothing. It's magnificent.

I have heard this song more times than I can count, and it still amazes me how Joe Cocker's rendition is so radically different from the original sung by the Beatles. Ringo Starr has his own original sound, but his version sounds cheerful and bright. On the other hand, Joe's feels like I'm at church, and his sermon is feeding my soul.

Elaine finally gets up and encourages us all to follow her lead. She attempts to hug us all as she sings, "Try with a little help with friends. High with a little help from my friends ."

The five of us sway from side to side, holding onto each other while we watch Joe's final moments on stage. Bobby has one of his arms slung over my shoulder while the other is on his sister's. Mike stands between Rose and Elaine, holding them by the waist.

This moment right here defines Woodstock. Thousands of people have come together, and we are living Joe Cocker's words. We are helping our friends, and for the past few days, we got by with the help of each other.

By the end of the song, I'm filled with love and peace.

As Joe Cocker leaves the stage, a piece of my heart goes with him.

"Wow." Rose brings her joint to her lips and takes a hit. She holds her breath nodding her head. "I need a moment to process what just happened."

"That's what good music does. It takes you to new places." Mike falls to the blanket and sighs. "You didn't just hear the words Joe was singing. You felt it."

The five of us huddle close as we wait for the next performance to start, passing around a joint. Our conversation is often interrupted by people coming to the stage to make announcements.

We hear about things happening around the festival and listen to numerous requests from people trying to find their friends. I get it. Being separated from friends can be a bit terrifying, especially if you know they have been drinking or doing drugs. It's how we felt when Mike went to get food. We were filled with worry that something horrible happened.

From what I know, there have been no unfortunate events to happen. Absolutely not fights or violence. How groovy is that? We're in a world running rampant with war, yet thousands of people can come together and live in perfect harmony.

It's beautiful.

Bobby is lying down with one arm behind his head and the other holding me closely. With my head against his chest, I begin to trace irregular shapes over his shirt.

As soon as Joe Cocker left the stage, it was as if he took the sun with him. A blanket of dark clouds covers the sky, and it looks like we will get another bout of rain.

Great.

It's not long until the roll of thunder fills the open field, and the wind picks up. The area starts to clear when people walk on stage and begin to cover electric equipment. I'm sure people are trying to find cover.

Elaine taps my shoulder and points in the direction of our little camp. "We're starving. We are going to head back. Plus, I don't want some random person using our tents as an escape."

Bobby plays with the ends of my hair, twirling it between his fingers. "You want to head over to?"

I shake my head against his chest and say, "Not really. I like being here with you.

When I look at Bobby, he looks at the rolling clouds with a smile plastered on his handsome face. "Then we'll stay."

We lay together in silence, holding on to one another, and I'm in complete bliss. I could lay like this forever.

The first droplets begin to fall, and it doesn't take long for the sky to open up and dump buckets of water.

"Shit," I mumble. The wind begins to pick up, tossing my hair across my face. "We should go."

The people around us begin to dance in the rain, and if I brought more clothes, I would join them. They have their hands in the air, spinning around as if thanking the Lord for the storm.

Bobby and I walk hand in hand until my foot gets stuck in a mud puddle. I stumble forward and fall face-first into the globs of brown goo. Bobby covers his mouth and fails to hide his amusement.

I reach my hand up for him to grab, and when he does, I use all my might to bring Bobby down with me.

Bobby tries to fight gravity, but his feet lose traction, and He lands on me like a sack of potatoes. The two of us burst out in a fit of laughter, and it warms me from within.

We're absolutely filthy, covered from head to toe in mud, and god knows what else.

With hooded eyes, Bobby looks down at me and cups my cheek, no doubt leaving a handprint on my face. His lust-filled gaze sends shocks to my core as I wait desperately for his lips to meet mine. When they do, I could die a happy woman.

Here we are, laying in wet dirt, making out. I feel incredibly loved. I'm a literal mess, and Bobby still wants me.

How did I get so lucky?

When his tongue enters my mouth, my mind goes blank. I can't think, only relish in the deep feelings growing by the second.

Bobby pulls away and brushes his nose against mine. "I love you, Winnie."

"I know. You pour your love and admiration into me every time you kiss me." My hand grips the back of his neck to bring him closer. Everything about Bobby makes my heart expands with each second. "I'm falling hard for you, Bobby Walker."

Even in the darkness, Bobby's eyes glisten brightly. He smashes his lips against mine and kisses me with urgency. As our tongues tangle together, I wrap my legs around his waist, and he rubs himself against me. I moan into his mouth, and my sounds encourage him to continue. My need for him increases with each slow stroke.

I can't wait to have him inside me.

Lightning flashes, and Bobby pulls away. The rain runs down his face, causing a drop of mud to fall into my eye. I try to rub it out, but my attempts are pointless, and my vision becomes blurry.

Bobby runs the back of his hand against my jaw and says, "Let's get you out of here."

When we try to get up, we look like baby deer learning to walk. Our legs lose function as we slip against the wet, mushy ground.

Rain slaps loudly against the tent, and Bobby gives another kiss that takes my breath away. "Come hang out with me."

"Do you think Mike will mind? He said he was going to sleep."

Bobby shakes his head. "I doubt he's asleep. He's probably smoking another joint."

"Count me in then," I say with a smile. "Let me just get something to wipe myself off. I'll be there in a minute."

"I can't wait." Bobby winks, causing my stomach to flip.

He always knows the right thing to say

I unzip the tent only to learn that Mike is not sleeping and is apparently good at multitasking. My eyes widen as I see him balls deep in my sister, kissing her passionately while finger-blasting Rose into orbit.

"Oh my, God." My hands snap to my traumatized eyes as I back out of the tent. "I'm so sorry."

As soon as I close the flap, I rush over to Bobby. My heart is beating at an unnatural pace, and I take in short breaths, trying to get my lungs to function.

Bobby looks at me with his brows pinched together. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." My voice raises three octaves, and it's clear as day that I'm lying.

"Do I want to know?"

"Nope." I say, emphasizing the "P."

I might need to bleach my eyes, but I will not burden him with what I just saw.