Photography (A Beatles Fanfiction)

23 / another girl

"Ugh, it was awful. I had to fake an accent and everything so she wouldn't suspect that I was just some ditzy American girl!" I explained to George about what happened at Paul's. We were sitting on the couch and sipping some tea, laughing at the foolishness that I created so Jane wouldn't accuse me of anything. 

"And what did you call yourself again?" George asked, smiling. 

"Brunhilda Swantlesburg!" I barely managed to say without cracking up.

"That's genius," George replied, chuckling. We bursted into more laughter, to a point to where tears were running down my face.

"I never want to do that again," I stated after calming down, wiping my cheeks.

"You should never have to do that again," George commented. His tone became more serious, and he tilted his head towards me. "Paulie shouldn't be invitin' birds over without your approval."

"George, I mean, who am I to tell Paul whether he can or can't invite girls to his place?" I told him, sighing. "I'm not even his, anyway."

"He still hasn't asked ye out, huh?"

I shook my head no, staring at my steaming cup sadly.

"George, what if he never calls?" I muttered, wondering if the worst case scenario would be the most likely one. 

"Awww, Bri," George said, patting my back. "Don't be sad, now. I'm sure Paul won't forget about ya."

But time kept passing, and George's phone didn't ring once. 

George tried to help me keep my mind off of Paul. He let me help him fix dinner, and we played cards, charades--even a couple of games of hide and seek. I even took a long walk around the block while there was some daylight left; still, nothing from Paul. 

It was well into the evening when I came to terms with the fact that I would be spending the night at George's flat. I sighed for the billionth time once I saw 10:25 PM displayed on the digital flip clock in his room. 

"Bri, darling, cheer up," George said, sitting next to me on his bed. "Paul's a busy man. He might've just gotten sidetracked...a-and...forgot."

"Yeah...sidetracked with another girl," I muttered, playing around with a hair tie on my wrist.

George sighed, his mouth forming a frown of remorse. He slowly lifted his hand from his lap and...slid it into mine.

I blinked hard, in disbelief of what I was seeing and feeling. I was compelled to pinch myself, ready to wake up from something that seemed too good to be true.

I didn't think George would ever want to hold my hand.

A wave of electricity ran through me when I looked at George, seeing his eyes focused on our fingers intertwined with each other.

"I think you should get to bed, lovely," he said after a moment. "You have work tomorrow, no?"

"I do," I stated flatly, not very thrilled about having to hide my sadness in front of a bunch of strangers.

"Alright, then," George replied, removing his hand to run his fingers through my hair. "Goodnight, Bri. Everything will be okay. I promise."

George sat and stared at me for a couple more seconds, then got up and nearly left the room. Until I remembered that I couldn't sleep in my work uniform.

"Oh, um, George?"

"Yeah?"

"Perhaps you have...something I could sleep in?" I asked. I got flashbacks of Paul unbuttoning my shirt that one night and shivered, not wanting it to happen again. But it was George. He wouldn't do such a thing.