"Taycee! What the hell are you listening to?!" Your mother demands as she barges into your room. You look up at her with wide eyes, but make no move to pause the record, as it continues to blast Chuck Berry's 'Johnny B. Goode' at top volume.

"It's called rock, Mom," you roll your eyes. Your mother glares at you with both hands on her hips. You're not going to lie, it looks pretty comical. You try not to laugh.

"Stop listening to that garbage this instant! If you've got to listen to music, listen to the Pat Boone records your father has downstairs in the den!" You sigh and roll your eyes.

"Mom, Pat Boone is gross. I'd much prefer Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Elvis, or Buddy Holly," you purposely list off all of the singers that your mother hated. She continues to glare at you and marches over to your record player, stopping it.

"Mom!" you exclaim angrily, jumping from your bed.

"I'm taking this away from you," your mother takes away the record, pulling it off of the player. "You're grounded from listening to music again, until you learn to appreciate real music and not this satanic garbage," your mother frets. You look at your precious record in her hand and gape at her.

"Mom-"before you can make another argument, your mother slams the door to your room closed as she marches out. You scream out in angry frustration and bury your face in your pillows. Why does your mother always have to ruin everything?!

You stay locked in your room all night and keep your door locked, refusing to come out. Neither of your parents try to speak with you and you're just fine with that.

After awhile, you finally decide to go to bed. You change into your nightgown and, right as you're getting under your covers, you hear something. Frowning, you sit up. You hear the noise again. It sounds like something is...hitting your window?

The frown remains on your face as you get up and walk over to your window. You look out...and immediately grin once you see who it is.

Paul.

Giggling, you open your window and Paul begins to climb the tree in your yard. You help him from the tree into your room and he lands on the floor with a soft thud.

Hopefully, your parents are already in bed by now.

"Hey Tay," he grins, using the nickname he'd given you back when you'd first met. "Why weren't you at the party tonight?"

"Party?" you frown. You think for a moment and a gasp escapes your lips as you finally remember. "Oh! The party!"

A bunch of kids at school were throwing a 'rock 'n roll' party tonight, in an abandoned warehouse. It was a way for all of you to get away from your strict parents and you'd been looking forward to it for over a month now. But, thanks to your mother, you'd completely forgotten that it was supposed to be tonight.

"Oh my gosh!" you exclaim, disappointed. You were really looking forward to it. "I completely forgot. I'm sorry Paul, my mom and I got into a fight again."

"About?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Music," you sigh. "She took away my record."

"Your Chuck Berry one?!" Paul demands. You nod sadly.

"Yeah. That was one of my favorites," you admit in a low voice.

"Why do parents have to be so lame?!" Paul groans. You shake your head as you sit back on your bed. Paul joins you, and wraps an arm around your shoulders.

"I'll show them," he declares. "Nobody can stop us from listening to rock 'n roll."

"Are you and John still talking about forming that band?" You look up at him. Paul nods.

"We've finally decided on a name," he declares proudly.

"Oh?"

"Mhm. We're going to call ourselves The Beatles!" Paul grins in excitement and you giggle, kissing him softly on the lips.

"The Beatles, huh? Aren't beetles insects?" you tease him.

"Nuh uh. We're naming our band after Buddy Holly and The Crickets, you know that," he pretends to pout. You laugh again.

"Hmm, I wonder if I'll like this new band," you tease again.

"You better," Paul winks. You blush, which causes him to grin.

"We'll show them. We'll show them all. The Beatles will go down as the greatest rock 'n roll band in history!"

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