Roger Taylor, Barbara Rosabella's 'love of her life', regardless of the fact that they are best friends. Having known each other since the beginning of their teenage years, they grow up together and bring out the best in each other, talk about their...
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October 1968 Barbara's P.O.V Chap 9
"You didn't tell me that your friend was the the hottest male to ever live?" Stella laughed, sipping on her coffee. It had been just under a month since me and Roger's reunion and ever since, Stella seemed to be in complete and utter awe of him, more specifically his face, which was 'carved by God himself'.
"Will you shut up about him for one second, you literally went on a date with some dude the other day," I tell her, grinning as I held my own cup of tea upwards above her head, as if i was going to pour it over her.
"Don't you dare, Rosabella, I will kill you," She warns with a devilish smile, holding her hands above her head for protection, just in case I'd actually drop it on her.
"Is that any way to talk to the girl that has been spending her sweet, precious time drawing you her best piece of work, hm?" I reply, referring to the arm wrestle that I had lost.
She gasps, "I'm sorry!"
"Sexual predator," I mumble as I move the mug away from the top of her head, bringing it back to my lap.
Me and Stella had been visiting the stall, running errands for Freddie and Mary along with helping Roger out back. Stella would often watch me and Roger talk, or try to bring herself into the conversation, but failing as me and him would talk about things that she wasn't interest in such as the news or politics, something that she had found very very boring. Sometimes Roger wasn't even at the stall, probably not having the time to come over, studying for his Dentistry.
Roger would stick by me, practically glued to my side, we would do the same as usual and grab everyone lunch and drinks, which gave us time to continue rekindling our friendship.
"I forgot to ask you, 'The Reaction', what happened?," I ask as we make our way out of the cafe bar, hands full with drinks and sandwiches.
"I quit -," he begins to say, choosing his words carefully, "Nothing to it, just decided to come here. You knew about that band? Of course - I remember - I saw you at a few parties we played at."
"Of course I did, I'm pretty sure most people back home did," I say, blankly, as it was true, I had read in the local Truro paper that him and his band had been mobbed once or twice, "You're incredible on stage, a real natural."
Something about the look that he gave me, the smile, it was kind and there was a little twinkle in his eye if you looked closely enough, I felt trapped within his ocean blue orbs, I couldn't look away from him until someone had bumped into me, knocking me a little as Roger reached for my arm to steady me.
