Go away, George

Chapter 4

"No no no get offfff!" I screamed through giggles, shoving at John as he tickled me.  

"Nope." He said bluntly, popping the 'p' and continuing to tickle me. "This is revenge for trying to tweet a picture of me scratching my nose!" 

It was true. He was sitting there on the sofa, scratching his nose, and I was going to tweet it with a caption saying 'Lennon having a little nose dig'. But since my phone's flash had gone off when I took the picture, he caught me red handed. 

"John please I'm sorry!" I squeaked out between laughs. I was lying on the leather sofa as he towered above me, tickling his way into next week. Until he tripped and fell on top of me. 

His body pressed into mine, he stared at me, his eyes wide. Then he began leaning towards me, looking intently at my lips. I didn't know what to do, really I didn't - John Lennon was about to kiss me and yup, he was mighty fine. But Paul was in the next room, he was the Beatle I liked. I glanced at George who was sitting against the wall with a cushion behind him, staring at us. The newspaper in his hand was clearly an interest of the past.

I let our lips brush in a soft little kiss, making me feel tingly. At that moment in time I swear down I wanted to grab him and snog his face off, but I didn't. 

"Uh John you're squishing me." I whispered with a small smile. 

"Oh, sorry love." He whispered back and stood up quickly. Things were a little awkward as he sat down next to me and fiddled with his fingers. Again, I glanced over at George. He was staring at me solidly, his big eyes sinking into me.

"Well." I groaned, standing up and stretching my arms. "I'm going to take a shower." 

Waiting a few seconds for one of them to direct me to the bathroom, and then realising that they weren't going to, I muttered under my breath "Fine, I'll find it myself."

I started to climb the stairs, the dark brown carpet tickling my toes. Paul passed me but didn't say a word, in fact he didn't even look at me. He just walked off. Count yourself lucky that you're Paul Mccartney or I would've said something, I thought.

I peeked into the first room. The bed was a mess and there were clothes all over the floor. This was definitely not the bathroom, it was probably John's bedroom or something. I opened the next room and saw Ringo on a plush red chair, WEARING JUST HIS UNDERWEAR, and reading a thick book about drums. He looked up, startled, and his eyebrows raised. 

"Sorry!" I apologised and shut the door quickly. I fumbled into the next room which I was thankful for being the bathroom. I made sure the door was locked before tugging the baggy clothes off me and climbing into the shower. The hot water slashed at my body and I leaned my head back, my eyes closed, forgetting the world.

****

After a soothing twenty minute shower I dragged the water out of my hair with a brush and let it dry naturally, creating wispy loose curls hanging around my shoulders. I dried myself and wrapped the warm cream towel around my body; it hung just above my knees so it wasn't TOO revealing. I needed to ask if they had any girls clothes. 

As I plodded into the living room, John's focus instantly attached itself to me. George began staring at me intently again, as if willing the towel to drop off my body. Weirdo. Ringo looked up at me from his drum book and smiled. And then there was Paul. Do you know what he did? He looked at me and then ROLLED HIS EYES. And then continued playing on his phone. 

Talk about rude. 

"So... what do you want? Or did you just come in wearing a skimpy little towel to turn us on?" John retorted, raising his eyebrows. 

"I was wondering if you have any girls clothes..." I asked awkwardly, twiddling with my hair and attempting to tug the towel down a little. 

"I'll get you some." George spoke, standing up and smiling a little. Uh huh, he smiled. It's a flipping miracle. "Oh, and love? There's no need to pull your towel down. Boys like legs." 

He then begun walking upstairs, which I guess indicated for me to follow him. Which I did, reluctantly.

"Are these okay?" He yelled, dropping a bag of clothes on me from in the attic. 

"Yeah." I said, staggering over a bit. "Thanks for the clothes, and the concussion you dipstick." 

George clambered down from the attic and stood in front of me, he was considerably taller. He reached out to touch my arm but I snapped it away from him and went to grab the bag of clothes. 

"Look, I don't think you've got the right impression of me." He muttered quietly, stepping closer, running a big hand through his hair. "I just... I just like you, you know? I think you're pretty. And you seem sweet. I just want to be friends. I'm a normal guy..." 

I nodded. that was sweet, really sweet in fact. Maybe I had seen him in the wrong light. He just seemed... powerful, powerful and weird. 

All of a sudden he cupped my cheek and leaned in, pressing his lips against mine. He kissed me softly, his lips moving in sync with mine. Fireworks erupted inside me but then I remembered Paul. Paul was my favourite Beatle. The one who I had planned to marry, the one who I continually fangirled over. I broke away from the kiss and shook my head, clutching the bag of clothes to my stomach. 

"You like Paul, don't you." He stated rather than asking a question. How the hell did he suss that one out? 

I nodded slowly. 

"Why the hell do you like Paul?" He said harshly. 

"Look George, he was my favourite Beatle. I had posters of him on every wall. I fangirled over him all the ti-"  

"You're so stupid." He hissed. "He doesn't like you." 

"Yeah well maybe he will do." I snapped, getting angry at him. 

"He's not going to. He just ignores you, can't you see that? He was being friendly when you first met. Paul doesn't like you!" He yelled. 

A tear slipped from my eye. "You're right." I trundled into the bathroom and locked the door. 

Paul doesn't like you. 

Paul DOESN'T like you. 

Paul doesn't like YOU. 

I heard someone knock on the door. "Love, I'm sorry, come out..." 

"Go away, George." I squeaked and sunk to the floor.

**Georges P.O.V**

When I kissed her I felt magnificent. Her soft lips were perfect, working in sync with mine. I wanted her badly.  

And then she broke from the kiss, looking awkward and miserable. I knew it was Paul. 

"You like Paul, don't you." I grumbled. She nodded, and that's when it felt like someone had slapped me in the face. Why was she so naive? So fickle, so stupid? Paul didn't like her. Okay, so I shouted at her. But she needed to realise the facts. 

And then she started crying. Seeing the tears and she just looked so vulnerable it made me die inside. She admitted I was right, yeah. But then went and locked herself in the bathroom. 

Why was I such an idiot? 

"Love, I'm sorry, come out..." I muttered. 

"Go away, George."

Go away, George. Okay, I'll go away. I'll leave her to go chase Paul Mccartney. I'll just leave her alone.