Magnetic: A Live Wire Sequel

Chapter 8

Laila’s POV

The show was amazing! The boys did great and everyone loved them. Ed Sullivan was really great with them before, during, and after the show. As soon as the show was done, Paul grabbed my hand and we all raced out to the car. The doors slammed behind all six of us and tore down the alley to the main street, plowing through the crowd of girls. Some of the crazier fans clung onto the car as it drove, but they all fell off soon enough.

“You were great!” I whispered in Paul’s ear. I was sitting on his lap, just as Justice with George, due to limited car space. He kissed my cheek as I turned back to everyone else. J and G were full on making out across from us and next to John. He had a hilariously disgusted expression and turned towards the window instead. Ringo, who sat next to us, was looking out the window as well and he looked rather sad. Paul’s lips found mine quickly and we started up like my friends across the car.

As soon as we got to the hotel, all the girls stood up and screamed out their favorite Beatles’ names again. We hurried into the building and up the elevator. When we reached the floor our rooms were on, the entire floor was shut down. There was a desk on the side of the hallway where a New York copper sat playing with some kind of box. When he noticed all of us, he stood and started towards us.

“Sir,” he walked with us to the rooms. “We have prepped the rooms and delivered food and drinks for you all.” John patted him on the shoulder.

“Thanks, old chap.” He changed to a London accent to throw him off.

The doors closed behind us in the room and a sigh was heard from everyone in the vicinity.

“Well,” Ringo flopped onto the couch where we heard a snap. “What the hell?” he sat up and there lay a broken drum stick.

“Smooth, Rings.” I laughed as he glared at me.

“I didn’t put it there. It was in my room, I swear.” He looked around. “That’s a funny place to keep your knickers love. And the rest of your clothes.” I turned, confused and saw all of my things strewn all over the room. And hanging from John’s guitar, of course, is my from the future black lace thong.  John lifted it with a finger and looked at me questioningly. Paul snatched it from his hand before I did and clutched it in his fist so tight his knuckles were white. I could feel the waves of anger rolling off him and grabbed his other hand. His grasp was too tight, so I decided to remind him. I kissed his cheek to get his attention then looked at my hand. His hand loosened and I smiled. This all happened in the course of probably a few seconds or so, but seemed longer.

“Maybe we should figure out why your clothes are out here.” Justice giggled. I nodded, smiling. We all looked towards the bedroom doors and I was the first to start forward. Paul followed me as I slowly pushed the door open. The room inside was trashed. Paul’s clothes littered the floor, my shoes and such followed their lead. And sitting on the bed, clutching a picture of him, was a girl with prefect blond hair, in a spotless yellow dress, watching us. When she saw Paul, her smile widened.

“Oh my god, you’re the Beatles! I am such a big fan!” she ran over to them and hugged them. “You’re my favorite, Paul! Will you sign this for me please! I love you so much!” he chuckled and nodded.

“Sure,” he took the picture and pen she held out to him. “Hey, can you tell us why all of Laila’s things were out in the front room?” she paled but shook her head.

“I found it like that.” I giggled at her lack of skill with lying. She looked at me, her nose crinkled as though she smelled something nasty. Paul pushed the picture back at her a little forcefully.

“Could you leave, please? I mean, it is our room?” John snapped. She looked like she had been slapped, but she nodded and left.

“Actually,” George corrected him. “It’s their room.” Paul’s arms were around my waist and I rest my hands on his, leaning back into his embrace a bit. This was the most romantic we had really been in a long time and I bet John knew that too, from the way we were acting.

It was then I made my decision. It was Paul. It had always been Paul. He was the only one that mattered.

John shot George a nasty glare then stormed out of the suite, slamming the door behind him. I rolled my eyes and smiled and waved to Justice as they left.

“So,” Paul whispered in my ear, despite the severe lack of people in the room. “Do you wanna show me what those lovely knickers from John’s guitar look like on you?” I giggled and snatched the thing from his hand.

“I will be right back.” I scurried into the bathroom and pulled them on, then took off my skirt an untied my up-do hair. It tumbled down my shoulders, cascading in waves of gold. I took a sort of deep breath and threw open the door. There stood Paul by the dresser, holding an armful of my clothes to return to their rightful place. But when he saw me, the pile dropped. I pirouetted, showing off the outfit from all angles. Slowly, I walked towards him until I was so close you could feel my breath. I placed my hand carefully on his arm and ran it up and down, feeling the muscles underneath. Bass playing was kind to him.

His hands touched my face and brought our lips together for one brief, simple kiss before sliding down to my waist.

“I quite like this…..lace…thing of yours.” I giggled at his confusion.

“I figured you would. That’s why I packed it. But, if you like it so much, maybe I should keep it on.” I saw regret and longing instantly on his face.

“No way. Those have to come off. They must come off and very quickly.” I giggled and thrust my hips forward into his.

“Then do something about it, Paulie. Come on, people call you a sex god. Prove them right.” I felt his fingers slip under the thing strings hanging on my hips and pull the thin, lace fabric away. It fell almost silently to the floor. Our breathing got shallower as his hands slid ‘round to my bum and he moved us closer together. I felt the cold metal of his belt pressed against my stomach. I felt that need, that yearning his skin against mine build inside me. It tore at me when I realized I had Paul’s arm in a death grip. I relaxed my hand and looked up from it into his brown, brown eyes. I slid my hands up his arms to his chest where I succeeded very nearly in removing his shirt. He still refused to move his hands; as if, if he let go I would disappear. I picked up his hands and his shirt dropped to the ground. I put his hands back on my hips as I started with his belt. I was stopped by the sight of his fingers wrapping around mine. I looked up and could see that what he needed right then wasn’t sex. He just needed me to be there. I nodded but pulled off his belt and released his slacks. They, of course, fell within the first few steps, but he didn’t care. He sat on the bed and pulled me down to him. I lay there in front of him, his eyes blank looking yet full of emotion. I moved much closer, till we were mere inches away, and touched his cheek.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. His eyes focused on my face. “Paul, what’s wrong?” he was starting to worry me. Why was he being so quiet? What had I done?

“I don’t like how he looks at you.” He whispered.

Not this again.

“Paul,” I laughed ever so slightly at the absurdity of it all. “We have been over this. There is no reason for you to feel this way.”

Now.

“I am yours. Don’t you ever forget that.” This seemed to appease him, but I wondered what it would be next time. I hugged him, feeling his strong muscles wrap around me and feeling them flex in his back, under my hands.

“Your my girl.” I smiled. I was really starting to like all of this stuff. “Forever?” he pulled back and looked into my eyes.

“Forever,” I smiled and realized I meant it. No longer did I have to pretend on certain, random things. Everything in the last year or so has gotten me to have a little more faith in men.

Our hug ended, but soon after, I curled up and fell asleep in Paul’s arms. The perfect guy for the perfect night. The perfect life. I mean, yeah, some things about this aren’t perfect, in fact, most of it isn’t, but it was perfect to me.