as the months passed, john and anna navigated their new dynamic. despite the awkwardness of his earlier confession, they managed to form, albeit, an odd sort of friendship. they were like two pieces of a puzzle that didn't quite fit together, but somehow, they made it work.
john's feelings were a complicated mix of acceptance and frustration. on one hand, he was somewhat relieved that anna had suggested they become friends - at least it didn't mean she completely despised him.
but on the other hand, he couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment and rejection anytime he thought about the fact she didn't return his feelings.
he tried to bury these feelings, to act as if it didn't bother him, but sometimes, especially his quieter moments, the sting of that rejection bit at the back of his mind.
he found himself occasionally wishing he had never confessed in the first place. maybe things would have been easier if he'd just kept his mouth shut and kept his feelings to himself.
so, john tried to focus on other things, to distract himself from the awkwardness. he threw himself into his music, using his guitar as an outlet for his emotions, and also hung out with his mates more. despite all his efforts, thoughts of anna still lingered at the edges of his mind.
indeed, during this time, john did start chatting up a girl named cynthia powell who attended their college. he found her attractive and enjoyed her company, as a distraction from the complicated situation with anna.
cynthia was a quiet, kind girl with an air of sweetness and soft beauty. john found her easy to talk to and flirt with, and he often sought her out at parties or gatherings.
january 1959 found them in the midst of a particularly cold winter. the streets of liverpool were covered with a light layer of frost, and the sky was a dull, overcast of grey.
they were walking home from school, shivering against the biting wind. their breath hung in the air in front of them as they trudged the path back to their respective houses.
"i can't feel my bloody fingers, " john complained, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket in a vain attempt to keep them warm. "why does it have to be so damn cold?"
anna rolled her eyes at his grumbling. "it's winter, john. it's supposed to be cold." she glanced at him, amusement in her eyes. "you're such a whiny child sometimes."
"oi, i am not a whiny child," he protested, a mock-offended tone in his voice. "i'm just a bloke who bloody well hates the cold, alright?"
a smile tugged at the corners of her lips, "right, of course. the cold is the bane of your existence, isn't it, lennon?"
"damn right it is. whoever invented winter is a right tosser, in my opinion," he grumbled his breath misting the air again.
as they reached the intersection where they usually parted ways, john suddenly had an idea. "hey, why don't you come in for a cup of tea? could warm you up, and you could say hello to cheshire."
anna paused considering his suggestion. the cold was definitely biting, and a cup of tea sounded appealing. she nodded, a small smile on her face. "alright, lead the way."
