I Bet

Chapter 10

(BEFORE YOU THINK ANYTHING BAD ABOUT ME LIKE "NOT A REAL FAN" I know what beatle wrote what song so if I change it in the story to someone else writing it, it is purely fictional and I'm only doing so to fit the story.)

I suddenly became aware of the constant electric guitaring that was being amplified around the room. I breathed out shakily and opened my eyes, squinting slightly at the sharp light change. Blinking several times I scanned the room; Ringo was sitting on the floor tapping his leg to some imaginary beat and George was standing up with his back to me and his guitar perched in his large, scuffed hands. He was strumming random chords and short tunes, humming along to a few with three sheets of paper lying slightly crumpled on the floor in front of him. He had scribbled paragraphs of words on them, I assumed they were songs.
"I'm looking through you, and you're nowhere." He sung quietly while playing loud chords on his guitar. "Why, tell me why did you not treat me right?"

I sat up slightly and remarked, "Hey who needs an alarm clock when you have a beatle?"
George just turned, looked at me with a blank expression as he had become accustomed to doing recently, and then carried on with what he was doing.
"Wait, what time is it?" I asked, sliding off the wide window ledge I must've crashed on for a while and stood up slowly.
"Nine in the morning." Ringo replied, after a sly look at his phone. 
I raised my eyebrows. "I slept all night? How did I get in here?"
"Your boyfriend dragged you here." George said in some kind of bored tone in between guitar chords.
"Not my boyfriend." I huffed, dragging my fingers through my knotted hair.
"Really? Well he's either your boyfriend or you just think his tongue tastes nice." 
I rolled my eyes. "I was not tasting his tongue. I didn't plan to kiss him, it just happened."
"I didn't plan to get pregnant, it just happened." He mocked, still staring intently at his notes and his guitar. Ringo chuckled.
"Oh shut up. I'm not even dating him and how has that got any relevance to getting pregnant?" I scoffed.
"Wow calm down honey, did you lose your sense of humour?"
I blinked. "Yeah, along with your ability to play a guitar correctly."
"Oh I'm sorry you want to try?" He questioned, suddenly ramming the guitar into my stomach. "I'd love to see you even attempt to play."
"Wow calm down, honey, did you lose your sense of humour?" I repeated his words exactly, giving him a sarcastic smirk before letting my face drop to it's usual unamused expression.
"Mm, along with your personality. I mean everybody's wondering where that went. You're not even the same person I used to know." He spat, turning back around and carrying on with his guitaring.

Wow. Slap to the face.

"Whatever." I muttered, turning to the door and stomping towards it. I hastily opened the door, and on my way out I ripped one of the plugs from George's amplifier, causing the music to cease and a string of unpleasant words coming from him before I slammed the door shut behind me. He was the biggest idiot I have ever met in my entire life. Why did I even date him? Why did I fall in love with him of all people?

Then again, I could think all these awful things about him, but deep down I still knew I loved him. I still knew by the way my heart fluttered when he spoke with his terribly hot voice, by the way I felt weak when I was sitting next to him or could feel his warm breath on my bare skin. I fell head over heels for him four years ago, and I was still completely trapped in his presence. There was nothing I could do about it.
When I had spoke with him in the corridor, when I'd accepted to tour with The Beatles, I was certain that he felt the same about me. The way he was so arrogant and cocky around me, and how he left his burning kiss on my cheek. He must've felt some kind of compassion towards me. There was still a spark. But just then, in that room, he was so uninterested. He wouldn't even let his gaze linger on me for more than a few seconds before becoming concerned with something else. It was as if he just found me completely repulsive, especially when he came out with those fearful words; 'You're not even the same person I used to know.'
Maybe I wasn't. Maybe I had changed too much, I mean four years can do something to you, can't it? I can't be exactly the same person I was when I was young and fickle. But maybe that's not what he meant. He mentioned my personality, how everyone wondered where it had gone. True, I did used to be a bubbly young individual. I did used to have an (excruciating) sense of humour and an overall happy atmosphere. That was how I was now though, right? I haven't lost that. I mean, I try to spread love wherever I go. It's in my blood to be that kind of person, especially with the music I have grown to adore and the underlying message that love is the one thing that keeps us all going. I hadn't changed, right?
Come to think about it, I had grown stale, particularly around The Beatles. I hadn't been humourous, I hadn't been happy and loving and smiley, I hadn't even really spoke to them that much. They used to be such good friends and it had all disintegrated. Maybe that's what George meant. I wasn't even the same person around them.
I ran into one of the ladies rooms and splashed cold water all over my pale, grief-stricken face and tied my hair into a quick ponytail. When were these awful emotions going to end?

*****
"Let's run through the first track then." Jason called, turning his iPhone off and slipping it into his coat pocket.
The Beatles and myself had been rushed into a taxi and driven to a large venue where apparently we will be performing at, on my break through tour. It was a large black stage with an even larger space filled with seats for the audience. We had been escorted here to run through a few songs as practice at a real venue so we could get the feel. Jason was sitting down on a front row seat and I was back stage, peeking in through the large doorway to the stage.

"Well George, aint you got that song you were writing?" John asked, fiddling around with the wires to some amplifiers.
"Yeah, I finished writing it this morning. You learned the chords I gave ya?"
"Mm." He replied with, picking up a guitar and fiddling around with it as Ringo clambered behind his drum kit and Paul grabbed his bass guitar. John clicked his fingers three times and then George began to sing.
"I'm looking through you, where did you go? I thought I knew you, what did I know?" He sung, his sweet voice filling the air. I hummed and tapped along, it seemed like a good song.
"You don't look different, but you have changed. I'm looking through you, you're not the same! Your lips are moving, I cannot hear. Your voice is soothing, but the words aren't clear." Suddenly he turned and his gaze lingered on me while he sung. "You don't look different, I've learned the game. I'm looking through you, you're not the same."

I instantly realised he was singing about me. I went from feeling pretty decent to feeling weak in a matter of seconds. I blanked out for a minute, not paying attention to him anymore, as my mind whirled with thoughts. I don't look different but I've changed? He's looking through me...
"You're thinking of me, the same old way. You were above me, but not today. The only difference is you're down there, I'm looking through you, and you're nowhere."
Why would he write that? Why would he sing that? Yesterday he was acting so cocky around me, even flirting slightly. It was clear he still liked me.
He was still looking at me as he sung more of the heart-stabbing words. "Why, tell me why did you not treat me right? Love has a nasty habit of disappearing overnight."

I couldn't listen to any more. Those final words just set me off. Love has a nasty habit of disappearing overnight.
He didn't love me anymore. George Harrison didn't love me.
Gasping loudly my knees felt weak and I spun around on my heel, darting around the cramped backstage and stumbling around clumps of wires and speakers. I ran into the nearest toilets and locked the cubicle door with shaky hands before leaning over and throwing up.