PRETTY LOVER BOY - ROGER TAYLOR

III.

NOTE!!(updated): let's totally pretend that I'm not an idiot american that forgot that nineteen years olds can drink in the uk 🚶‍♀️. feel free to clown me.

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A wide legged pair of denim, a tucked in white shirt that's low cut, coming down to just below my breasts in the center, and a baggy jean jacket, that's all it takes for me to be satisfied and to know that at least some men will look at me. It's not anything special really, I wear outfits like this everyday, some even more revealing.

With one last look in the mirror to make sure my curls haven't magically flattened as they like to do when I air dry my hair, I'm out of my small flat, opting for the iron stairs of the fire escape so I'm at the back of my building. From there, I walk along the sidewalk to the pub, the streetlights basking everything in their amber glow.

When I arrive outside the door, it's rather calm, just the chattering of the people inside floating out of the door. As I enter, I'm glad to see that the boys have yet to play. I make my way to the bar, sitting down at a stool with my back to the counter. It only takes a moment for one of the bartenders to come over to me, sliding a drink my way which I pick up.

"From who?" I ask. He points down the bar to a man probably in his late twenties to which I raise the drink to, taking a sip of it. I've never bought myself a drink before, partially because I'm underage and partially because someone always ends up buying one for me. It's a bit of a loophole really, the bartenders never question my age.

I'm only left waiting a little longer before the band takes the stage and I put my attention on them, sipping on the rather fruity drink.

"Good evening ladies and gents." There's a round of whistles and cheering at Brian's words and he waves out to the crowd.

"As always, we've got Freddie up front, John at bass, and Roger, of course, at drums." There's a few whistles and calls out to Roger and I can't help but smile as he grins out at the crowd, twirling one of his drumsticks. There's some exchanges between the boys before Brian hits it off on his guitar and the first song starts.

All four boys are all interesting to watch in their own right, but by god is Freddie something else. He's got this charm to him while he's on stage and he's just about got the audience in the palm of his hand. It truly is amazing to see such a force. He looks like he belongs on a way bigger stage singing to adoring fans.

By the end of the performance, I have to admit I'm pretty impressed by the band. I set down my now empty glass and stand from the stool, setting my sights on the backstage door.

I maneuver through the electric crowd, all chattering about the band and occasionally, I catch someone talking about how cute some of them are. They're all lookers in my opinion.

When I get to the door, I enter, walking down the short hall and turning to the conjoined one. What I find standing somewhat in the middle of the hall is a gaggle of girls, all giggling at someone, a flash of blond hair informing me of the person, Roger.

"Roger!" I shout with a grin waving him down. When he takes notice of me, I find his eyes seem to light up and he pushes his way between the girls, jogging up to me.

"You guys sounded great," I tell him as, much to my surprise and the groups of girls' dismay, he bends down to hug me. I return it after a moment of shock.