Chapter 44
February 8, 1964
"Ye'look like shite, Georgie," I said, sitting on the second bed in the room, keeping my distance.
"And you look a bit hungover still, Liv," George said as he sat up in bed, his cheeks flushed and his hair a right mess.
"I must be gettin' old," I mumbled as I pushed my head against the headboard. The headache still hadn't completely disappeared from my scotch and coke escapade the previous day. "Multi-day hangovers are for aging housewives who drink too much wine."
George's lips spread into a grin, and he chuckled before the laugh turned into a painful-sounding cough.
"What a bloody good time to come down with somethin', don't ye'think?" I crossed my ankles and gazed at him. Poor lad looked downright ropey and beyond pitiful.
"Just like you vomming all the way to London was good timing, huh, Liv?"
"A touch shirty today, Geo," I said as I glanced at my watch. The doctor had been to see George early in the morning, and I was tasked with administering medicine to George every hour on the hour.
He crossed his arms over his chest. "How was that photoshoot of yers?"
I pushed off the bed as the record stopped playing. "Was grand, but kinda felt like a vulture. Like how these photographers are with you lot," I said as I twirled the record over and placed it back on the portable record player.
"I'm sure you're not at all like them," he said, his tone soothing, his dark eyes on me. I knew I could count on George to support me...always there behind the scenes rooting me on.
"Miss sharin' a room with you a bit," I said as I leaned my back against the wall.
"I don't." He pursed his lips at me. "Still tryna get yer moaning outta me head, Liv." He was referring to our second ever trip to London. John and I had gotten a bit...frisky...one night as George attempted to sleep in the next bed over.
"Was only that one time, George." My cheeks filled with heat. "And a long time ago, at that."
He shook his head as he glared at me. "Was it, though, just the one time?"
"Oi, fuck off." I pushed my hand into my hair and avoided eye contact. It had most certainly not only been that one time, but he hadn't said much about it since then, so John and I assumed we'd gotten away with our silent escapades. "We were quiet."
"Yeah, you keep tellin' yourself tha. Whatever helps you sleep at night," he said before falling into another coughing fit.
"You need somethin' for that cough? I can go get it for ye." I peeked out the window. Clouds covered the New York City skyline, and drizzle coated the streets below.
"Nah, I'm not gonna make you go out in tha." I wasn't sure if he was referring to the miserable weather or the hundred faithful fans standing vigil on the Fifth Avenue side of the hotel.
"You're not makin' me, I'm offerin'." I closed the curtain and turned to him, my entire body feeling jumpy...a bit like a caged animal needing to be set free. "I think I need to get out for a bit, anyway. Maybe the fresh air will cure my hangover."
"Ye'think it wise to go out there? Pretty sure they'll recognize you."
"I'll put a hat on." I shrugged, doubting very much that the American fans knew who I was. Not yet, at least, but probably soon considering the stunt John had pulled at the London Airport.
YOU ARE READING
If I Fell│John Lennon/Beatles FanFiction
Romance•Now Complete• ❝He'd always been important to me, but now it was more than that. I wanted to be near him all the bloody time. It was time to accept the truth...I'd been slowly and irreversibly falling for my best friend. What a proper prat I was.❞...
