Oh, My Love [Beatles Imagines]

• PAUL

IMAGINE # 3 : PAUL McCARTNEY

FOR lonelylorelei

Trinity found out the news from her sister.

It was Christmas day, the sun had barely begun to rise at seven, when her sister woke her up form her sleep. Trinity slowly opened her eyes, violently yanked from the beautiful sex-dream she'd been having.

It involved Paul.

It always did.

"He's getting married," her sister said. Trinity rubbed her eyes, not fully comprehending the meaning behind her sister's words. "He's getting married to that skinny white ho."

"What?"

"Jane!" Her sister raised her voice.

Trinity sat up, the magnitude of the words hitting her. She nudged her sisters shoulder. "Don't call Jane that."

In any case, Jane wasn't the ho.

Trinity was.

"Paul is getting married," her sister repeated. "I thought you'd be more pissed."

Trinity wanted to cry. She wasn't a violent person, but she wanted to punch all of her pillows until there was nothing left inside of them. Instead, she got up. She got ready for a full day of family activities.

It was Christmas, after all.

She needed to put on a brave face.

. . .

Trinity flew back to London on Saturday afternoon, and arrived early Sunday morning. She collapsed on her bed. She'd spent the last couple of days at home. No one knew why she was quiet, why when no one seemed to be looking, Trinity looked like she might cry.

She hugged her pillow, and cried.

It all started innocently enough.

They stared out as friends. She was a journalist, she'd applied to transfer to London and her transfer was approved. One of her first jobs in London was to interview the Beatles. That was all it took to Trin, a meeting with Paul, and she was hooked.

The day after their interview, they meet up at a party. Paul was surrounded by people. Trinity looked at him, and tried to focus on someone else. She wasn't obsessive. She just found him intriguing. He was a Beatle. He was creative, and impressive. But more than that, she liked his baby face.

God, his baby face.

Trinity tried her best to forget about Paul by dancing the night away. She felt hands on her hips, and welcomed them. It was only when she turned around to loop her arms around the stranger, that she noticed it was Paul.

He took her hand, and lead her away. She could feel his hot lips on her neck, trailing kisses to her collarbone. She moaned. She opened her eyes to see if anyone noticed, but it was dark, there was far too much noise in the club. Besides, everyone was wasted.