A band was playing loud in a small bar of Soho. The music was banging against the walls, making them tremble. Many young men and women were sitting at the bar, drinking their beer or whiskey, whilst others gathered before the stage, paying attention to the music and sometimes, dancing. One of the long-haired men sitting at the bar was absent-mindedly staring at the bottom of his glass, listening to the music with only one ear. His name was John Deacon. He was bored and could not wait to go back home. But for that, he had to wait for one of his friends, Roger, who was chatting up a lovely girl in a corner. Unfortunately, he needed Roger to go back home, as he lost his driving license. He ordered a glass of vodka and waited for it, turning his head to watch the band play.

Meanwhile, in the same bar, a young woman was standing in the middle of the small crowd before the stage, trying not to spill her beer. The music was good in her opinion, and her friend seemed to like it too. Yet, feeling a bit emprisoned in the crowd, she walked out of it after she told her friend she was going to the bar. Focused on her glass, she passed by a group of drunk boys. Their eyes stuck on her body, they started to whistle at her, calling her pet names. Anger grew in her chest, but wanting to avoid troubles, she pretended she did not hear them. The boys, frustrated, swore and pushed her. Tripping over someone's foot, she quickly caught hold of the counter. Unfortunately, her glass of beer spurted on a young man sitting there. She flapped her glass on the counter and violently spun round, facing the drunk boys who were sneering.

“Oil tankers! Go bonk yourselves!”

“What did she say? Guys, we're not going to let ourselves get insulted, are we?”

The other boys nodded and they angrily walked up to her. Unfortunately for them, the girl was very quick and violently punched them right in their faces, pinning two on the floor. Four boys from the group stepped back and ran away, the others moaning on the floor, holding their stomach or rubbing their broken noses. She spat on them and spun round, running back to the guy on which she spilled her beer.

“I'm sorry, mate, are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, I guess so. I'm sorry for what just happened to you, those guys were sick.”

The young man, who was nobody else but John, looked up at her and was completely stunned. She had long chesnut brown hair falling elegantly on her chest, shining blue/green eyes, a thin face and beautiful lips. His heart leapt in his chest, as the girl was helping him to wipe the beer out of his jeans and shirt. He stopped her by placing his hands on top of hers.

“Don't worry about that, I'll wash them tonight” he said with a warm smile she gave him back.

“Sorry I spilled me beer all o'er ya. But those arseholes were too stupid!”

“It's okay, it's okay. It's about you that we should worry. You really... kicked their asses.”

“Of course I did!” she chuckled. “Ooh, I feel a bit sick. Can you please help me getting out o'here?”

“Sure, sure!”

Having a headache that was getting worse and making her feel terrible, she almost passed out. John firmly held her by the waist and got her out of the bar. Once they were out, they headed for a bench, not so far, in one of the narrow streets. Usually, she would have freaked out, being in this kind of street with a stranger, but she felt too sick for that. She sat on the wooden bench and John knelt down before her, searching for a clean handkerchief in his pocket. Once he found one, he gently wiped her sweaty forehead, as she struggled not to throw up on him. Beer was enough, wasn't it? He grabbed her hand and gently squeezed it.

“Are you okay? You're all sweaty, and you seem like you're going to puke!”

“I am about to... Please talk about something, make me forget the state I'm in...”

“Like what?”

“I don't know, introduce yourself.”

John smiled and rolled his eyes, in search of things to say about him. He looked back at her.

“My name is John. John Deacon. I am twenty-three years old, uhh...”

“Wait, you're the John Deacon? The bass player from this band... Queen, isn't it?”

“Yeah.”

“Nice to meet ya.”

The way she almost did not care whether he was famous or not made him smile, but at the same time, he sighed internally. He was not that famous, after all. In the band, he was the one people did not care about. He only was the bass player, and people prefered singers or guitarists. And for once, the drummer mattered too. But not the bass player. He was still surprised that she recognised him and knew what he did.

“Keep talking, keep talking” she said, closing her eyes and frowning.

“Uh... Well I came here with Roger, Roger Taylor.”

“Yeah, I saw him, he's flirting with my sister.”

“Oh, is he?”

John was embarrassed but when he saw the young woman laughing, he could not help but imitate her. She finally opened her eyes and smiled at him.

“No, he isn't” she giggled. “Why are you two coming here? I mean... That's a terrible place for rockstars.”

“Oh, we're only trying to have some fun. We're not touring and we have some free time for the moment. We want to... enjoy.”

“I understand you perfectly.”

She smiled at him and squeezed his hand, as he had forgotten he was still holding it. Embarrassed, he removed his hand, blushing and apologising. She laughed and poked the tip of his nose.

“D'you want to walk awhile with me?”

“If you want me to.”

“I do.”

They smiled at each other and stood up. She showed him a way in the narrow streets full of small shops of any kind. They could not hear any noise aside from this of their platform shoes on the pavement. As John was too shy to say a word, the girl gently took his hand and intertwined their fingers. He blushed and smiled, as they got closer, their shoulders touching whilst they were walking. He cleared his throat.

“By the way, what's your name?”

“Taylor.”

“Oh, like Roger. And what's your first name?”

“Taylor.”

“Oh sorry, I thought it was your last name. What is it, then?”

“Taylor.”

“Wait, I don't understand” he said, frowning.

“My full name is Taylor Taylor.”

John raised an eyebrow, looking straight into her blue eyes that seemed to smile at him. She squeezed his hand and looked straight before her.

“It seems like my parents urged to make a joke, and I was there at this precise moment.”

“No, I'm sure they just lacked of imagination.”

“They were both drunk when I was born, so...”

“Oh.”

John felt embarrassed, and Taylor let go of his hand. Feeling a bit rejected, he did not show it. His face lit up again when she wrapped her arm around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I'm glad that I met you, John. I feel like we understand each other.”

“But I didn't say anything.”

He frowned, as he had just realised that her way of speaking was different than before. She, who spoke in a very familiar way, was now talking properly. Taylor seemed to be an ocean of secrets.

“I know you didn't say much. You never say much. But you mean many things. I can see it through your eyes, you know. You're not like the others.”

“In what way?”

“You're discreet, shy, and very quiet. And most of the time, people like that have spectacular eruptions of ideas, opinions and some other things in their brain. I feel like it's your case. You just don't show it.”

John's eyes widened. For once, somebody understood him. Of course, he could sometimes be on the same wavelength as Freddie, Roger or Brian, but he always felt like they did not see him as someone who could really think. They witnessed his anger a very few times, but they still had no idea about its intensity. And Taylor, a perfect stranger, immediately saw what he hid inside of him. Tenderly, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

“By the way, where are we going?” he asked.

“I have no idea.”

“Do you want to go somewhere in particular?”

“No” she smiled. “I just want to walk and let my feet guide me to a random place. That's how I got in this bar with my friend.”

“I see. You love wandering randomly, then, don't you?”

“I do.”

“Sometimes, I do too. But most of the time, I'm too afraid of getting lost.”

“You shouldn't.”

She suddenly stopped and took his hands. Facing him, she stared into his eyes for a long moment, searching for her words.

“You shouldn't be afraid of getting lost. Do you know what makes you scared?”

“No?”

“Your lack of self-confidence.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“I don't lack of self-confidence. I... I believe in myself.”

“You stuttered whilst saying it. You don't believe in yourself. Let me show you.”

She let go of his hands and bypassed him, standing in his back. She made him stretch out his arms on his sides.

“Now, close your eyes.”

Taylor made sure that John did.

“You're going to walk forward. Don't open your eyes. Let your feet guide you.”

“I'm going to build myself in a wall!”

“Not if you trust yourself. Go on, walk!”

A bit worried, he stepped forward, walking hesitantly, his legs shaking. Taylor crossed her arms on her chest and looked at him with a grin. She silently followed him and saw he was about to walk in a wall; yet, she did not tell him. Much to his surprise, his body hit the wall and narrowly escaped from breaking his nose against it.

“Why didn't you tell me there was a wall?!”

“Because I want you to trust yourself.”

“I do!”

“If you really did, you wouldn't have hit it. Now, close your eyes again, and believe in yourself. Trust yourself. Let your feet guide you through the street.”

He closed his eyes once again and frowned. He walked in another direction, his arms still stretched on his sides. “Easy to say, hard to do!” he thought. Yet, he felt lighter. He kept repeating to himself that he could do it, that he trusted in himself. And it paid. He was not feeling scared at all now. Many times, he blindly avoided walls, without knowing it. Behind him, Taylor was hugely smiling and wanted to applaud him. Finally, after a few minutes of wandering, John opened his eyes and let his arms fall. He spun round to face Taylor, who was slowly walking down the street in his direction, smiling heartily. Her arms were crossed and she shivered a bit.

“Did you study psychology?”

Taylor raised her eyebrows, surprised by this question. With a curious expression on his face, he placed his hands on his hips, waiting for an answer.

“No. I'm a dropout.”

“But what were you studying?”

“Art.”

“Then how do you know human-beings so well?”

“I learnt to read into their eyes, back to the time when I was depressed. Because nobody wanted to read into mine. I don't want to be this kind of person.”

Her sincerity made John smile. He wanted to hold her tight against him, even if it could be inappropriate, since they had known each other for only an hour or so. He felt like meeting this girl was a disruption in his life. Why? He had no idea. But she took the time to read what was hidden in his heart. He saw Taylor shiver again.

“Oh, are you cold?”

“A bit.”

“Let's get back to the bar, and let's drink something.”

“No, I'm too drunk for that” she laughed. “I'm really glad I met you, John Deacon.”

“I'm glad I met you too, Taylor Taylor.”

He could not help but smile after he said her name. What a peculiar one! She shyly stepped forward, getting closer to him and placed a soft but long kiss on his cheek. Then, she wrapped her arms around him. With a grin, he hugged her.

“I don't care about your fame, I don't care about your status. Your heart is shining, John Deacon.”

“I appreciate hearing that. Though I don't know if it's shining.”

“It is.”

Once again, she planted a kiss on his cheek, and he blushed. She looked at him with a sincere smile. She gently stroked his cheek.

“Will we ever meet again?”

“Wherever and whenever you want.”

Taylor smiled and ran a hand through John's hair.

“I love your long hair. It almost looks unreal.”

“A bit too fluffy and messy.”

“Not at all. It's perfect like that.”

They heard steps coming their way. They turned their heads and saw Roger with a girl. John frowned. She was not the one he was with before. Roger waved at John.

“Hey, Deaky!”

“Hey Rog. Let me introduce to you Taylor. Taylor, Roger, Roger, Taylor. Yeah, stop giggling, mate, I know it sounds strange for you.”

Indeed, Roger was laughing at Taylor's name.

“What's your full name, sweetheart?”

“Taylor Taylor.”

Roger stopped laughing and looked at her with his eyebrows raised.

“Wow. Your parents weren't kidding.”

“Indeed.”

“Oh” Roger said, “here is Suzy. So Suzy, here's John and Taylor.”

“I know her” Taylor said, “I came here with her.”

“Yup!” Suzy exclaimed, a bit too drunk. “See, I told ya ya would find a lad!”

“I didn't find a lad, Suzy. I found a friend.”

Taylor looked at John.

“Unless we aren't friends?”

“We're friends to me.” John said with a smile.

“Anyway, we should get home, honey” Roger said in Suzy's ear.

“Roger, here's a friendly reminder: I don't have a car and you have to take me with you.”

“Yeah, right. May I take you somewhere, lovebirds?”

John sighed, his face showing no expression. However, Taylor saw he was deeply annoyed. He felt embarrassed because they had met an hour or two before, and Roger imagined things whereas nothing was happening between them. As for her, she did not care about Roger's remark. He could believe anything he wanted, she liked John. It was not a shame to be with him.

Finally, John sighed again.

“Bring us home. Taylor first.”

“C'mon, lads!”

Roger took his keys out of his pocket and made them rotate around his fingers, pulling a face that made them all laugh. Suzy, firmly holding Roger's arm, followed him to his beautiful shiny car. Taylor and John were holding each other by the waist, not caring about the winks that the two others threw them. They sat on the back seats, and had to bear Roger and Suzy's disgusting kisses. John was looking out of the window, trying to avoid seeing that, and he slightly jumped when he felt a cold hand gently taking his. He shyly looked at Taylor, who was looking out of his window, with a smile lighting up her face. Their fingers intertwined, and finally, Roger asked Taylor where she lived.

“I live in Whitechapel.”

“Watch out, honey, somebody's going to butcher you!”

Taylor giggled and looked at John, who dared not laugh. She elbowed him and through her eyes, said to him: “Feel free to laugh whenever you want to.” He understood it perfectly and silently chuckled. Satisfied, she grinned and rested her head on the bass guitarist's shoulder. He hesitantly rested his head on hers; as she stroked the back of his hand with her thumb, he understood it was like an invitation. Suddenly, Roger braked.

“We're in Whitechapel, I don't know where.”

“I live in the nearest street, don't worry, I can get out here.”

“No way, Jack's still wandering, who knows?”

“She ain't a brass!” Suzy said, hitting Roger's arm.

“A what?”

“A slut,” Taylor answered. “Don't worry I can walk.”

“No, no, let me take you to your flat!”

Roger drove in the street Taylor had indicated and stopped before a beautiful brick building. Taylor shook Roger's hand, thanking him for the driving; then, she kissed Suzy on her cheek and talked to her in a cockney gobbledygook that Roger and John did not understand at all. As she was about to say goodbye to John, the latter opened the door and got out of the car. He bypassed it and opened Taylor's door. Once she got out, she looked at him, blushing.

“I hate gallantry.”

“I just wanted to say goodbye to you properly.”

“Well... Good night, John.”

“Good night, Taylor.”

“We'll meet again soon, huh? You promise?”

“I promise.”

With a smile, she tightly hugged him and briefly kissed his lips. Then, she wiped hers.

“This was a friendship kiss. Nothing more, don't worry.”

“It's okay.”

“Good night, John, and thank you for this evening.”

“Thank you for reading into my eyes.”

She grinned and gave him another friendship kiss, yet it lasted a bit longer. She dried her lips once again and got back home, closing the heavy door behind her. John waited for her to disappear from his field of vision to get back into the car. Roger and Suzy were still kissing, but when they heard the door slamming behind them, they broke off their embrace and looked at John, whose eyes were lost into space. Roger smiled.

“Someone's falling in love here, isn't it?”