Photography (A Beatles Fanfiction)

18 / all things must pass

When Paul and I got back to his place, he helped me unpack and we hung out for the rest of the day. He didn't discuss the whole George situation at all, which gave me a sense of relief that I much needed for a few days. He also made sure to comfort me whenever I thought about it.

But what Paul didn't know was why it hurt so much more than it would have if something similar didn't happen before.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Paul and I were laying in bed together later that night; buried beneath the covers and bored out of our minds. Yes, he finally did get a sofa; but of course, I wanted to snuggle up with him rather than sleep alone.

"Bri, you already know that I'm very attracted to you," Paul began, his hand grazing my thigh. "But I do want to know more about you."

"I could say the same for you," I replied, smiling.

"Perhaps we should play a game," he suggested, raising his eyebrows.

"21 Questions, maybe?" I offered, sighing a little at the memory of George and I playing.

"Sounds good," Paul replied, sitting up against the headboard. "I guess I can start."

"Okay."

"Hmm...so when's your birthday?" he asked.

"August twenty-fourth," I told him.

"I'm June eighteenth...but ye might have already known that," Paul said with a chuckle.

"Yeah, I did," I replied, shrugging. "Hey...that's really soon. A little over a week from now. Do you have any plans?"

Paul nodded. "The lads want to take me to the beach next weekend. You should come with us."

"Oh, that sounds fun, I'd love to," I began, then feeling my stomach turn over. "Well...as long as George isn't going to be there, that is."

"George is one of my best mates, Bri. Of course I invited him," Paul replied with an apologetic tone. "But hell, he might not even want to come anyway by the way he's been acting around me lately."

"So you guys are...having trouble, aren't you?" I said quietly. "Why, though?"

Paul's face quickly went pale. "I don't, I...let's not talk about it. Next question."

"Okay..." I replied, suddenly sharing his discomfort.

I continued the game and asked some of the same questions I asked George when we played. But Paul's questions didn't focus on much about me, but more so on my opinion on him and his band mates.

On the sixteenth or seventeenth question, he asked, "So I remember when you said that I used to be your favorite member of the band...what happened?"

"Oh, um," I mumbled, looking away in embarrassment. Should I just tell him the truth? "Well, there were a few reasons why."

"Do ye want to explain?" he asked, slowly sliding his hand into mine.

"I thought you were charming," I began, taking a deep breath. "But also a little...intimidating."

"Me? Intimidating? How?" he replied, making a funny face.

"You see, I started liking your band's music long before I knew your names or what you looked like," I explained. "But one day, something just compelled me to look up pictures of your band, and I noticed your face first. I thought you were, well, strikingly attractive. And right beneath that picture, it read 'Paul McCartney'. I think the bass is a cool instrument, and I thought it was cool that you play it. And then, I kinda...became, well, a little bit obsessed with you."