Another Day

Chapter 5

After a couple or four drinks I relaxed a little. Even though I was three years under age I didn't care, and neither did anyone else for that matter.

"Let's dance." I grabbed George and pulled him to the dance floor. Ringo a few feet away was hopping awkwardly around with Linda in a manner I hesitated to call dancing.

George and I danced for a while, and surprisingly, John cut in. "Mind?" he asked. George shook his head, "I'll get you another drink Donna." I smiled at him and John grabbed my waist, spinning me wildly, but fantastically. "Sorry for knocking you down earlier." He said seriously.

I was surprised; usually he's much too thickheaded to apologize for anything. I laughed a little. "It's alright Lennon, forget about it."

We danced together, and I could hardly keep from laughing at the way he was flailing around and imitating Ringo. After a while I broke off to find George, and John was snagged from behind by a blonde haired bird.

I found George over by the bar sitting on a large couch with his foot perching on his knee and a drink in his hand. As I sat next to him he leaned forward and grabbed another glass from the table in front of him.

"Here"

I took it and slung it back, slapping it back on the table. He raised his eyebrows at me. "You don't really seem like a big drinker." I giggled sickeningly. "I'm not."

Paul appeared, tugging along a slightly intoxicated Linda. She collapsed next to me. "I think I'm in love." She whispered and giggled.

I patted her head. "You are very drunk."

Paul dropped into the seat beside George and propped his feet on the table with his hands behind his head. I downed another shot as a waitress walked by and offered me one.

"Got you a drinker there George." Paul said. George laughed and gestured to Linda who had fallen asleep against me. "Yeah and you've a real delicate flower."

Around three in the morning George, Paul, Linda and I left the club, leaving John and Ringo behind who didn't seem to have any intention of leaving.

We grabbed a cab, and Linda slept the entire ride in Paul's lap, her head resting on his shoulder. If only she would have been awake.

I fell asleep with my head resting on the window, the glass cool against my forehead.

As the cab slid to a stop George shook me awake. Sleepy and full of alcohol, we stumbled into their flat. Paul put Linda in his room and crashed on the couch. "Don't make too much noise." He chided. George kicked his leg hanging off the couch.

"Do you need something to sleep in?" He asked me, leading me into the small kitchen. I nodded my head sheepishly. He disappeared into a bed room and reappeared with a t-shirt. I changed in the bathroom and wondered back into the kitchen, very aware of how much leg I was showing.

"Sexy", he said. I blushed, and a funny feeling of guilt flipped in my stomach.

Danny.

How could I have forgotten about him? All the excitement of being with the Beatles and drinking, it had escaped my mind that he was coming home tomorrow. I felt incredibly stupid, and the guilt only grew.

"George?" I said. He looked up from his cup of tea on the counter. "George I think I need to go home."

He frowned, "Why's that?"

My throat started to go dry and I swallowed, afraid of crying. What the hell was wrong with me?

Tears started to well up in my eyes.

George stepped over to me. "Hey, there's no reason to cry." He looked at me and smiled. "Is something wrong?" I wiped my cheek.

"I can't stay here I have to go home."

"Why?"

"I have a boyfriend."

Apprehension dawned on George's face. I tried to blink the tears back. I was betraying him by being here. George wrapped his arms around me and I cried a little into his shirt, feeling terribly guilty. He'd only been gone a month and here I was, in a complete stranger's flat, not even giving him a single thought. What would he think of me?

George turned slightly away from me to reach for the cup of tea and handed it to me. It was still warm. "Thanks" I said, and took a sip.

"Donna you're not doing anything wrong." He said reassuringly.

I didn't reply.

"You want to call him?"

I checked the clock. Nearly four in the morning. "No, he isn't home." His train wouldn't even be coming in until five that afternoon.

I finished the tea and sniffed.

I was horribly embarrassed. Standing in George Harrison's flat I was drunk and clinging to him, blubbering about another man. I must seem like a loony.

George took the empty cup from me and kissed my forehead. "You need to sleep, and then I'll get you home in the morning." I nodded silently, starting to become ashamed of my frazzled emotional outbreak. I shuffled to his room, leaving him in the kitchen.

"Goodnight Donna"

"Goodnight"