Chapter 7
I don't know how long I was on the ground, but when I opened my eyes, Paul was sitting right beside me. He was sleeping; his long lashes brushed against his cheeks, and his lips were parted slightly. That famous 'moptop' of his was all messed up, but still looked adorable. Jeez! People who lived in my neighborhood had told me how precious he was when he was sleeping, but I didn't know that he would be this precious! It was almost too much for me to handle..
Suddenly, he jerked awake. It must have been my staring that startled him; what else could it have been? He stretched his arms out to his sides drowsily, yawning and blinking repeatedly. Oh, wow, he was an angel! I continued to stare at him, and that was okay now, wasn't it? I mean, he's awake, at least! His whole face lit up when he finally noticed that I was by his side. (Things were getting rather serious between us. Maybe not serious enough for marriage, but enough for the two of us.)
Paul half-smiled drowsily and wrapped his muscular arm around my narrow shoulders. I leaned my head on his shoulder so that his arm wouldn't cramp up. He planted a quick kiss on the top of head. I flushed a light pink, and it was totally worth it to hear his attractive little giggle. Anything he did was attractive, actually, so what was I going on about? And I was just overly excited that he was mine, and those random sluts in clubs couldn't have him. If he stayed true to his word, like I hoped that he would...
"'Ello, love," he sighed into my ear. "Feeling better, then? Johnny told me all about your crying. Did he do somethin'?" The sound of his voice nearly sent me into hysterics. Did he have to be so amazing? But he stared curiously back at me, awaiting my answer to his question. I hadn't realized that that wasn't a rhetorical question! Now, my cheeks got hot and I tried to forget about my stupidness just a moment ago. Luckily, he didn't seem to care. That's another thing I loved about him; he didn't care about a lot of things.
I rolled my eyes. "No, Paulie, he didn't do anything." I shook my head, clenching his right hand in mine. "He really didn't. I'm just...really angry with myself. I did something that I shouldn't have done, and it's gonna break poor Ringo's heart." The tears began to flow down my cheeks. "I can't believe I did that just to cheer John up! Like, what the hell? I don't even give a fuck what he thinks about me! Why, Paul? Why did this have to happen to me?" I buried my face in his chest, hoping my salty tears wouldn't stain his brand new dress shirt.
Paul tighted his grip on my hand. He was fully awake now, and his voice was stronger. And louder. Couldn't forget about the volume. "What did you do? Come on 'ead, you can tell me." When I glanced doubtfully up at him, he put on a fake grin. Damn, he looked handsome when he did that! (We've been through this, though; he always looks handsome. Deny it? Go take a seat in your corner.)
Could I tell him? If I did so, would he look at me like I was completely fruity? That was probably it. After all, I can't for the life of me figure out why I agreed to do something so terrible just for John. Especially since it would upset Ringo. Ringo was just one of those people, y'know? You can't hurt them, you can't ignore them, and you can't ever stop loving him. That's what makes him him! Yet, I still hurt him. Would any of the Beatles ever forgive me? Jeez, why was this happening to me? I was just a normal 18 year old girl who went to a Beatles concert, and now I'm intertwined with all this drama.
"Well..." I let out a big gust of air. I could do this. I knew I could. "John has the hots for my friend--mate--Charlotte, and I promised him that I would get her for him. And I did, but I had to insult Ringo and lie about him just so she would go to him!" I paused, and he didn't say anything. Uh-oh. My eyes widened immensely. "Am I terrible person now, Paulie? Please say that I'm not!" I began to sob uncontrollably. "I don't wanna be a bad person! Especially not toward Ringo! He's just so...sweet! I can't hurt him!"
Paul rubbed my back symapthetically. He shushed me, because I was being rather noisy, and just hugged me closer to him. The heat that always radiated off of him was smothering me today. Why was it so hot? Surely it was me... I kid, of course. If anything it was Paul, with his smoldering good looks.
Just then, Charlotte advanced from John's bedroom. She was in a ripped up nightie, and she had a hickey on her neck. John followed just behind her, giving her bottom a gentle smack. Giggling madly, she threw her legs around his waist, him balancing her in the arm. His hands were all over her bottom. At first I wondered why Paul never did this with me, and then I remembered. It was fucking disgusting! I would never ever do that to any man, even Paul fucking McCartney, and he's pretty damn special in my book.
"Ringo can kiss my ass," she shouted to me, laughing wildly as John kissed her neck more. He muttered, "I did enough of that last night." She cackled some more. How could anyone find that cackling attractive? Paul shied away from her instinctively, accidently touching my bosom. I hid a smile; I enjoyed it very much when he touched me. Espeically if it was an 'inappropriate' touch. Those were my favorites.
Paul stood just then, pulling me up with him. "Come on," he whispered in my ear, "let's go. Leave the love birds alone. And we should probably tell Ringo about all of this bullshit."
I allowed him to drag me down the hallway, praying that we wouldn't see Ringo at all. I wouldn't be able to explain any of this to him...
