Let It Be (A Beatles Story)

Chapter Eighteen

George's POV

He was up all night, playing his guitar and thinking.  Most of it was thinking, he figured.  He barely managed to write a single note of music.  

George wasn't one to get jealous easily.  He was a very calm boy, figuring that if someone had something he didn't meant he wasn't supposed to have it in the first place.  But lately, something had been bothering him.  Something that he wanted, that he was sure he could never have.  

But, against everything that his mind told him, that only made him want it more.  

Her, actually.  

Before he fell asleep at night (When he could manage to.  Lately, slumber evaded him), he could feel her kiss again.  It was soft and sweet, but too quick.  She would be there for one second, and gone the next, as if she was teasing him.  Afterwards, the desire was too much to bear.  

 But that was not why he was jealous.  

He had seen what they did when no one was watching.  Paul loved her, and George knew it, but she didn't.  He knew she didn't see anything worth loving when she looked in the mirror.  It bothered him so, he made up a list of lovely things he meant to tell her some day.

But she was Paul's girl, and George was his best mate.  He could never even think of telling him these thoughts.  How angry would he have been if he could have read George's mind whenever she walked into the room...

The kiss.  It was perfect.  Short, but it couldn't have been better.  She was embarrassed afterwards, though.  What if she didn't really care?  

Of course she didn't care, he thought.  He had seen them kiss, the way he held her so close, not wanting to ever let her go.  The way she ran her hands through his hair, and gasped at his touch.  George could only wish it was him instead of Paul.  

But Paul wouldn't always be this faithful to her.  He had admitted himself he had wandering eyes.  What would happen to her if he suddenly lost interest?  

"No," George said.  There wasn't anyone around, and he felt quite silly talking to himself.  "Paul cares about her.  He won't leave her."  It was as if he was praying.  

"Please don't leave her.  For me.  I can't see her hurt."

"I love her.  I love Elle."

He played guitar as they rehearsed.  They would be going on a small tour around England in a matter of days, and the Beatles were nervous but excited.  Instead of paying attention, his eyes kept wandering to Elle.  She was watching them, tapping along to the beat, smiling at them.  Sometimes she would make a face at Ringo to keep him happy.  

Seeing her smile made George happy.  He wished he could keep the smile on her face, but when the music stopped playing and she was alone, he could see the sadness in her eyes.  

Like she was almost about to cry.  

George was so distracted he kept playing the riff when the song was over.  John snapped his fingers in his face and he stopped, feeling a burning blush creep onto his cheeks.  

The band took a break for awhile, and Paul went up to Elle.  But instead of kissing him and smiling, the saddened girl pushed him away, muttering something inaudible.  Paul chased after, pulling her into a corner of the studio to talk.  George set his guitar down, trying not to listen.  

But he couldn't resist.  

"-staring at her the entire time."

"Come on, love.  I would never-"

She snapped something rather vulgar, and Paul growled a few more obscene words.  Elle turned away from him and pushed past the drum kit, leaving George and Paul alone.  

"What happened?" He asked. 

Paul shrugged. "Women."  Lighting a cigarette, he left the room, following Elle out.  

Towards the end of the break, George was walking down the hall when he heard a soft whimper.  It came from the curve of the corner.  

He crept closer, trying to be as quiet as possible.  When he turned the corner, he saw Elle slumped against the wall, her body shaking with sobs.  Her blonde hair covered her tear-stained cheeks.  

"Elle?"

She got up, surprised by him.  "Oh, George, I'm sorry.  I-"

"No.  Wait," he asked, "what's wrong?"

Elle turned back towards him, but she couldn't stop crying.  "Paul's been noticing other girls lately.  He even said so himself.  I thought that he...he might have actually loved me."  It pained George to see her so upset, but he couldn't help but notice the way she said his name.  

She loved him.  

"Elle, I'm so sorry." George said.  She looked up at me, tears filling her big blue eyes.  

"You better go.  Brian will be looking for you.  Just tell Paul I'll be up in awhile."  She said, slumping against the wall again.  It tore at George's heart to see her like this.  Why would Paul do this to her?

Kneeling down next to her, he said, "Please don't cry.  You're beautiful when you smile."  It was one of the boldest things he had ever said to her, and it certainly got Elle's attention.  

She almost smiled.  "You're just saying that so I'll stop crying."

George offered her his hand, and helped her up.  "If Paul decides to treat you like this, he doesn't deserve you."  Where did this confidence come from?

He couldn't help how close they were, and how pretty she looked when she had teardrops in her eyelashes.  Or the fact that their fingers were still perfectly entwined.  Elle almost looked as shocked as he was.  "George, I..."

But before he could press his lips to hers, there appeared another person in the hallway.  Elle pulled away from him, knowing she had been caught.  But was it because she was ashamed to be with another man, or embarrassed that it was George?

He couldn't tell.  

John crossed his arms.  "Well, well.  I should have guessed.  For such a good little girl, Elle, you sure spend a lot of time alone with men."

Elle pushed past John, anger heating up her face.  George was about to reprimand John about teasing her when she was already upset, but the smirk on his face killed the words in his mouth.  He said, "Come on.  We're waiting for you," and then left, leaving poor George alone in the hallway.  

After the practice session, Paul seemed to lessen the tension between him and Elle by apologizing, and they left without another word.  But before she went out the door, she cast a look back at George.  He couldn't tell what it meant.  But when Ringo left a few minutes after, and John and him were left alone, he knew he was in for it.  

"So...what was that downstairs?  Surely you wouldn't snog Paul's girl, would you, now, Georgie?"  John taunted, wanting him to fight back.  

But George didn't respond.  He just continued to pack away his guitar.  

"Elle's not worth it anyway, mate.  Just another old bird with a pretty face."  

George slapped the folder of music down on its stand harder than he intended.  John smirked, knowing he was getting the rise out of him that he wanted.  

"Did you have to be such an ass to her today?  She's already been in a fight with Paul." He said.

"If I wasn't an ass, what would I be?" John inquired.  "But I'll keep your little secret.  I'm sure you wouldn't want that to be known."

Shrugging on his coat, George asked, "And what would that be?"

John lit a cigarette, and after taking a long drag on it, he blew the smoke out.  "That George, the good little Beatle, finally did something absolutely naughty."