If I Fell│John Lennon/Beatles FanFiction

Chapter 55 - 22.Sept.1964 - 24.Sept.1964

Chapter 55

September 22, 1964 

Where in the bloody hell was Paul?

I asked myself the same question over and over as I waited...the minutes turning into hours. What did 'I'm stoppin' by tomorrow' even mean? Was he popping in to say hello and then leaving, or did he have something he wanted to talk about?

I should've grabbed him and told him he wasn't invited when I had the chance, although the lack of an invitation had never stopped Paul from showing up at my door before. But I did know that I had no plans to speak John's name. We could talk about anything else. Just not bloody John.

As the morning hours turned into early afternoon and Paul still hadn't so much as given me a ring to let me know he was on his way, I wondered if he'd only been joking at the airport. Maybe it was his idea of a shite way to antagonize me, though that sounded much more like a John thing to do.

I pushed up from my seat at the kitchen table and grabbed a few cleaning supplies. My muscles were twitchy, and I needed to focus my energy somewhere, so I cleaned. I cleaned my bedroom, the living room, the loo, and the entire kitchen. My hair was falling free from my bun by the time my body screamed at me to stop scrubbing. The flat was immaculate, and I was sure Catherine would be pleased, but Paul still hadn't shown up. And I was getting more than a little cheesed off that I was waiting around for him to come whenever he damn well pleased.

With hurried movements, I walked into my bedroom and pulled out my address book. I was going to phone Jane Asher's home and tell someone there to tell Paul not to come. I didn't know why I hadn't come up with the brilliant idea before cleaning my flat from top to bottom, because it seemed so obvious now. I didn't need to be waiting around for Paul to waltz into my flat whenever he wanted. And I certainly didn't need him to stir up memories and potentially derail my efforts to move on.

Just as I plopped on the couch and grabbed the phone, knuckles rapped against the door. My eyes flew toward the noise...what lovely timing.

I groaned but didn't budge, because if Paul could make me wait hours, he could wait a damned minute. The knocking became more incessant.

"Hold it," I hollered as I finally stood and sauntered toward the door, taking my sweet time to unlock it and pull it open.

"Took you long enough. What were you doin', Liv?" Paul asked as he stepped through the door, not bothering to wait for me to step aside. "Wakin' up from an afternoon kip or summat?"

"Well, you didn't exactly tell me a time, Paul," I muttered as I closed the door and hurried after him. "And then I thought you might not show up."

"Told you I was gonna stop by, didn't I?" His eyes flitted around the room. "Looks clean in here. Did you clean for me?"

"This is how it always looks." I rolled my eyes as I stepped into the kitchen. I needed something to focus on other than Paul and all of the memories he brought with him.

"I've been here before, Liv," he said, popping his head around the wall and following me into the kitchen. Paul looked a bit knackered, like he'd just woken up for the day only minutes before. He wore a button-down shirt with his sleeves rolled up and dark jeans. "And it didn't look anythin' like this."

"Fancy a cuppa?" I asked, not bothering to make eye contact. My mouth was a bit dry as I reached for some cups and filled up the kettle, my hands too full to close the cabinet.

"Would love one." Paul collapsed onto a chair and relaxed against its back. He cradled his head with his hands and stretched his long legs out, crossing his ankles. "Was a bit gobsmacked to see you there last night."