Within You, Without You | George Harrison ✅

4

To my annoyance, the phone was ringing loudly throughout the flat. I knew that I had to get up and answer it, because only two people every called me; my landlord, and Hally.

I literally rolled out of bed, landing on the wooden floor and groaning. My arm ached. I stood up, grumbling about whoever was calling me at God knows what time in the morning. I stumbled over to the phone and put it to my ear.

"G'morning?" I asked, still using a groggy tone because I hadn't yet completely woken up.

"Hi, it's George."

My eyes widened and I almost dropped the phone.

"George as in... as in George Harrison?" I asked in disbelief.

George chuckled a little before replying, "how many other Georges have you given your number to, Amoreena?"

"Uh..."

"I hope you're at a loss for words, not trying to add it up." George teased.

"George, why are you calling me at..." I looked at the clock hanging above my record player, "7:30AM?"

"Because you have to be at the studio in half an hour."

"Half an hour!?" I echoed. "Shit, I'm never going to make it! George, I have to go, I -"

"Calm down." He said. "We'll be outside your's in the Princess in about fifteen minutes. Okay?"

"I don't need a lift -"

"You don't want to be late on your first day." He had a point.

I sighed. "Okay. Fine. Thank you. Now let me go so I can get dressed!"

"See you in a bit!" I hung up and rushed into my bathroom to have a wash.

It was only as I was pulling on my shoes that I remembered that The Beatles would be waiting where they had dropped me off this morning. I was already running late - now they'd see me rounding the corner!

I had no time to think of a way to get to their car without being spotted or looking suspicious, however, so I grabbed my bag and my keys and locked the door to my flat before hurrying down the stairs and out into the street. I literally ran down the road.

George and John were leaning against the car when I arrived, out of breath. "Where've you been?" John asked, looking my outfit up and down.

"I know it's short and tight." I said, gesturing to the tight top and short skirt. "It was all that I could find that look remotely personal assistant-y."

"I didn't say anything." John pointed out.

"You were thinking it." He held his hands up in defeat.

"Anyway," he said, "you didn't answer my question." George got back into the car. I was a little miffed because he had just ignored me, not even saying hello.

I sighed. "John, I was getting some milk, okay?"

"But you haven't got any." He pointed out.

"The shop was all out!" I exclaimed angrily as I went to climb into the car the same way that George had.

John went to sit in the passenger seat beside Paul, who was driving. I was glad that John wasn't, because after yesterday, I feared for my life if he was.

As soon as I got into the car, all of the band looked at me - apart from George. He was looking out of the window... but he was next to me, which seemed like he'd done that purposely. I decided to brush it off.

"How does Amoreena look this morning, fellas?" John asked as he lit a cigarette.

Paul let out a low whistle and grinned.

Ringo smiled, "lovely." He answered. "I like the colour of your skirt."

"Thanks, Ringo." I replied, genuinely surprised that he had said something which sounded so well thought out and polite. Exactly the kind of compliment which a girl wanted.

George was silent. He still hadn't turned his head. The three Beatles were staring at him, but if he noticed that then he didn't show it. After a minute, I slipped across the leather seats a little closer to him. "George?" I asked softly. He didn't turn his head from the window. "How do I look?"

George took a deep breath as if he was steeling himself. He turned his head slowly and took in my appearance before he smiled. His fangs made another appearance and I felt my heart skip another beat, just like it had done the previous day when I had first caught a glimpse of his endearing teeth.

"Pretty." He promised. "I like your..." for a few seconds, he seemed to be distracted by my top. Perhaps it was too tight. Okay, it definitely was. I knew that my cleavage and breasts were on full display. "Top." He finished before he quickly turned back to the window.

"Okay..." Paul trailed off, turning the key in the ignition. The car rumbled to life, "let's go before you're late," he said, briefly looking at me in the overhead mirror, "and we're in trouble for it."

As we pulled away from the curb, Ringo said, "he's right, y'know - that top makes your breasts look breathtaking!"

I couldn't help but giggle. I knew that Ringo wasn't saying it to be dirty - somehow, his intentions were obvious. He was saying it to be funny. He was jibing with me. Teasing, even.

I felt like I had become a small part of their group. I could never hope to fully be in with The Beatles, but Ringo's inclusion of me into a joke made me feel as though he accepted me. John was naturally sarcastic and jokey, so I had no doubt that he liked me, and Paul was sweet. I was confident that he would take me a little more time to win over... but George Harrison.

George Harrison was murky. He was muddy. He drove me crazy. I had been unable to stop thinking of him last night before bed, even though I had been absolutely exhausted. I had been unable to stop thinking of what today might bring - and George.

He was a puzzle, was George Harrison, and he was one which I was incapable of not solving.