High on you

Drive My Car

Paul sunk down on the velvety couch, resting his hand on his knee and crossing his legs over it. Jim McCartney sat down across from him, slowly running his palms down his legs as he did so. Paul searched his eyes for signs of anger or the threat of punishment. Jim took a sip from a glass of water and set it down on the water ring that moistened the wood of the table. Paul stared hard at the glass as the sweat dripped off of it. "Where were you?"

Jims question was calm but Paul was aware the it was subtlety laced with frustration. He swallowed hard and picked his eyes up from the glass and back to his father.

"I was with John and we just lost track of time-"

"And stayed out all night to have sex and didn't tell me you were even leaving?" Jim turned his tone to accusatory and Paul winced as he uncrossed his legs and gestured with his now red hand.

"We didn't just go out to have sex! I'm seventeen da, I'm responsible. Y'know me, I wouldn't do anything reckless." Paul kept his eyes forward and tried not to emulate the posture of those guilty teens in those 1980s dramas convincing their parents that they were innocent when they had actually been completely reckless. Jim shook his head and ran his hand down to his chin.

"The words, 'I'm seventeen' and 'i'm responsible' don't go together, Paul." Jim looked at him with disappointment in his eyes. "You're a teenager. You can't be out galavanting with your irresponsible boyfriend all night!" Jim narrowed his eyes and Paul felt completely out of power.

"It's not gonna happen again, we just fell asleep ok?"

"It's not gonna happen again because you have a curfew, you understand me?" Jim pointed his finger and Paul nodded, helplessly. "And that lads no good for you, Paul.-"

"Don't start on that! I'm gonna keep seeing John." Paul scowled, suddenly overcome with rage. Jim just shook his head again. "It wasn't Johns fault, ok? We both fell asleep." He gritted his teeth.

"You should both be smart enough to know that I'd want to know where my son is. He should be smart enough to know he's already not on good standing with me." Jim stood up and rounded the couch to go into the kitchen. Paul rose to follow him. "What kind of father would I be if I let you go off to have sex with your boyfriend whenever you want?"

Paul could tell that Jim was getting increasingly uncomfortable as he talked about the situation. "It's not like we're being daft about it. We're being safe and...." Paul trailed off, succumbing to his own discomfort.

"I trust that you are. I just think that you're too young to be staying the night with someone. I don't trust that Lennon boy." Jim scoffed as he started rinsing the dishes. Paul couldn't help but let out one of those spoiled teenager sounding huffs.

"I'm going over to Georges." Paul shook his head and crossed the room. Jim sighed as if to say 'I can't stop you' and shoved some of the dishes aside. Paul threw on one of his many jean jackets and grabbed his keys.

"Curfews at eight o'clock." Jim picked a time in the spur of the moment. Paul kept in the urge to argue for a later and in his opinion, fairer, time.

It occurred to Paul that he actually hadn't hung out with George alone in a while. So as he strolled over to his car twirling his keys around his finger, he called George. He held the phone between his shoulder and cheek as he opened the door and sat down on the hot seat.

"Paul?" Came Georges small voice.

"George! Do you mind if I come over for a bit?"

"No! Come on over!" Georges voice turned excited but slightly insecure and Paul chuckled and let him go so he could actually start on his way to the lads house. He adjusted his mirror and dialed up the radio before pulling out into the street.
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