If I Fell│John Lennon/Beatles FanFiction

Chapter 64 - 15.Feb.1965 - 22.Feb.1965

Chapter 64

February 15, 1965

I leaned against the cool brick wall as I fussed with the strap of my camera. One of my ankles was crossed over the other, and I bit at my lip, trying to hold back a load of word vomit that I'd been stewing over for far too long. I was going to give myself a damned ulcer if I kept it up.

"You're blonde again," Paul said, standing next to me.

I hummed in response as I nodded. "You've always been the most perceptive of the lot of us, haven't you?"

"Simple yes woulda sufficed."

I adjusted my hat, still too self-conscious to go out in public without one, especially anywhere with the boys since they attracted fans and press practically everywhere they went. To prove my point, a woman and her teenage daughter walked by, the daughter's eyes set on Paul, recognition crossing over her features as she squealed, but they kept walking as he winked in their direction.

"Sorry, Paul," I sighed. He didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of my shite mood. "Me hair's finally growin' back, and it was comin' in blonde. Thought maybe I should make it all match."

"That right?" Paul reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He promptly lit it and pulled in a drag. "Has nothin' to do with John beggin' you for weeks?"

"Yeah, well that, too." I almost smirked, but I couldn't smile, not as I kept shifting my weight and fidgeting with anything I could get my hands on. "I prefer it blonde, anyway."

"Out with it, already," Paul said, not looking at me as he smoked. Condensation from the cold air mixed with a cloud of smoke as he exhaled.

"Dunno what you're talkin' about." I peeked down the road, but no car was coming. Not yet anyway. And when it did come, I was worried I might have to jump off the sidewalk to avoid getting crushed by an out-of-control vehicle.

"You're bein' all antsy." He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "You wanna say somethin', so say it."

I pressed my lips together. "How was yer holiday with Jane?" They'd just spent ten days in the seaside town of Hammamet in Tunisia.

"Was divine. The villa we stayed in was secure, and we were actually able to get out without bein' followed." He pulled in a drag of his cig. "And how was Switzerland, since we're apparently gonna do some small talk before you tell me what you're dyin' to say."

"John fell a lot skiing. Heard a lot of 'me arse is gettin' cold, Liv!' as he begged me to help him up from the snow." I pushed my hands into my coat pockets in an effort to stop squirming.

John and I had spent a fortnight with George Martin and his girlfriend Judy skiing in the Swiss Alps, a welcome holiday after everything we'd endured over the last several months. And the press was hot on our heels. I was back in the papers, but I didn't bloody care. If there was anything I'd learned, it was that John was too important to me to worry about the damned press.

"George Martin broke his foot on the first day, though. So you'll see him hobblin' about later today when you lot head to the recordin' studio."

It was while we sat around the hotel room with poor George nursing his foot that John messed about with song ideas on his acoustic guitar, the sound and feel of the new music continuing to change as the boys evolved.

"First day? What shite timing." Paul turned to face me, his dark hazel eyes meeting mine. "Any more small talk then?"

I sighed, and my head tipped forward, my shoulders sagging. I breathed for a few moments before giving in to the nagging feeling I'd been trying to ignore for an entire month.