In My Life, I Love You More (The Beatles)

Chapter 5

"No! Stop it, Paul! Give it back!" I yelled as I tried my absolute hardest to grab my most favourite Tchaikovsky record from Paul's hands.

He laughed as he continuously moved his arms around so I wouldn't take my record back, "This is for your own good! I'm only trying to help you,"

"How is smashing my Tchaikovsky record going to, in any way, help me?" I asked, placing my hands over my chest.

"You can start listening to some good music now. Like my music." He cockily smiled, as he lifted his arms up.

"No! Paul! Please don--"

He threw my Tchaikovsky all over the floor, sending it to it's end. I just stood there, and stared at it, jaw dropped.

"You. Are. Terrible." I punched his arm, then walked off into my room to write some more into my journal.

Next thing I knew, he snatched my journal out of my hands. I looked up to see him dangling it in his hands, reading some of it. I jumped on him, trying to get my journal back, screaming and yelling.

"Paul! Give that back!" I waved my arms around, trying to get it back.

"Why do you like writing so much? It's nonsense since no one's going to read it!" He teased and read some more of my journal entry.

I leaned forward a little too much, making us fall pretty hard on the floor. He groaned, and turned to his side, clutching his back.

I wrapped my arm over my elbow that hit the ground, and took my journal.

"Serves you right, Paul!" I stuck my tongue out at him, and locked the journal.

He got up slowly, and rubbed his back as best he could, "Aw, I was getting into that! Don't lock it!"

"I will lock it, thank you. And why does it matter? No one's going to read it anyway," I mocked his previous tone, and walked off again, hoping he won't follow me again.

But of course, he did.

"Let's do something!" He caught up to me as I walked around my small flat, looking for something that I wasn't quite sure of at the moment.

"Paul, we gotta get to work in an hour and a half!" I shook my head, walking up to my room.

He followed me, "We don't have to go..."

I turned my head around quickly, taken aback by his words, "What're you talking about? It's a group rehearsal! And John says that he has new ideas, and that he wants you to see them!"

He smirked, "John's a big boy. He can finish the song..."

I rolled my eyes, "We are going, and that's it!"

He groaned, "Fine."

Walking away from him, I entered my room, only to find out that he's following me. I turned back to him, again, "Uh, Paulie; I've got to be getting ready now, so I'd very much appreciate it if you would go home and get ready as well," I suggested.

Paul shrugged, "So if I don't--"

"Oh, just go!" I shoved him out of my bedroom and out the front door.

"Okay, Amber! I'll go get ready!" he yelled, then walked back quickly to his flat.

Sighing a sigh of relief, I returned to my room to get ready for my first day of my new job.

**

I took a deep breath before entering the building. I'm so nervous; what do assistants do, anyway? Hopefully this job will get me back up on my feet, and I can continue to write. I'm not even sure I even wore the correct attire...a casual black dress wouldn't be too much?