The Meeting

Chapter 8

I just wanna say sorry for this being really late. Lots of writer block. Also I didn't know if I wanted to continue this story... but I am thanks for all the support! Here's the next chapter!
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December 1958. One hour until 1959

Paul's POV:

I ran.

Of course I ran. I ran away from Stu. From George.

From John.

My father always told me that running from your problems was the cowards way out. Which now that I think about it, I guess he was right.

I am a coward.

I didn't know where else to go, so I ran towards Calderstone Park knowing I could take my time through the park knowing my house was basically on the other side.

I slowed down when I saw Menlove Ave knowing I was close.

They really had to name a street Menlove didn't they. Oh how my life sucked.

I looked both ways before shoving my hands in my pocket and walking into the park. It was quiet and dark. The only light coming from the almost full moon above. I found a bench and sat down, hoping to calm down before heading home.

John probably wanted nothing to do with me now.

Oh fuck, John.

I put my head in my hands. Even though they were freezing I didn't care.

I replayed the fight in my head, replaying Stu's words. Of course he didn't want me at his house. For all he knew, I was taking his best friend away from him. Not that I was trying to.

The heart wants what it wants.

Did I just fuckin' think that?

"Fuck, Fuck, FUCK," I stood up from the bench and ran my hands through my hair in frustration.

I can't like him, I CAN'T.

They say having a crush, and snogging was exciting and fun.

I was not feeling that right now.

"This isn't normal," I whispered to myself. I could feel the tears of frustration fall from my eyes.

This can't happen. If John ever found out about this he would hate me.

I paced back and forth in front of the bench trying to figure out way to get me out of this situation.

"What if I never thought about it again? Just shove it down where it can never see the light. What if I-"

"Shove what down?"

I screamed at the sound of somebody interrupting me, and I turned around faster than I have ever moved in my life. I glared at the smirk that was looking back at me.

John still looked good.

"What are you doin' here, John hmm? You here to make fun of me for gettin' my arse kicked?" I huffed, sitting back down on the bench, shoving my hands in my pocket.

John laughed, "No," he sat down next to me, while I avoided eye contact, "I followed you here because Stu was the arse, not you, Paulie."

"Don't call me that."

"You know you love it, Paulie," John smiled. He really was beautiful.

Shut UP.

"I really don't, John," I turned to look at him, trying to make myself look angry as possible, "And you're the one who invited me to the bloody thing anyway! You KNEW this was goin' to 'appen!"