When I Saw Her Standing There ( George Harrison Love Story )

Chapter 3

"So," laughed George, "yer' cat clung to 'is leg?"

"Right," I say laughing with him, "me poor brother didn't even know wot to do!" George burst into a fit of laughter, tears threatening the corners of his eyes. I calmed down to a chuckle when the both of us heard an obviously irritated voice yelling behind us.

"God dammit, Cynthia!" The voice yelled. George and I turned around in our seats, our faces still flushed from laughing, to see Paul stomping towards the bar.

"Wot is it?" I ask confused. He didn't reply, but instead grabbed me by the arm leading me towards the back of The Cavern and away from George.

"Hey!" I argue, "Wot was that for?"

"Ye' know yer' little friend, Pattie, or whatever the hell it is?" He yells.

"Yeah..." I stutter.

"Yeah, well how long 'ave ye' known 'er?" He asks.

"Oh, euh, I dunno. Couple weeks I s'pose," I say lying through my teeth.

"Cyn, I know when yer' lyin'. How long 'ave ye' known 'er?" He asks again.

"I just met 'er last night," I mumble.

"Yeah, figures. It all makes sense now. A girl like you would have enough sense to stay away from a tramp when she got to know 'er'," he muses.

"Tramp? Paul, wot the bloody hell are ye' talkin' 'bout?" I ask confused.

"Well yer' little gal over 'ere was snoggin' with the first lad she saw as soon I went to grab us drinks!" He huffed.

"Yer' kiddin'!" I nearly yell.

"No, I'm not. Fuckin' tripper that girl is." He huffs yet again.

"Paul, I'm sorry to hear 'bout this. I never knew she was so terrible," I say awkwardly patting his back.

"No," he says shaking his head, "it's not yer' fault. I've seen these tramps before, yet they fool me every time. I just need someone real ye' know?"

"If it makes ye' feel any better, you and the lads are true realists 'round 'ere," I say with a sympathetic smile. Paul smiles and wraps and arm around my shoulder.

"Yer' a breath of fresh air, Cyn. Never in my days of meetin' girls have I ever met someone that I can actually relate with," he says with a slight smile.

"Ye' think you'll be alright?" I ask.

"Yeah, I guess so," he shrugs, "I don't s'pose ye' know another girl exactly like yerself?" He says with a chuckle and the slightest tone of pink in his cheeks. Although, that could have just been the lighting.

"No one other than meself," I say with a chuckle.

"That's a real shame," he begins, "cos' God only knows how well I could've done if ye' weren't already wif' George," he says looking straight ahead. Did he just indirectly say he fancied me? No, course not. Cynthia, you're nothin' more than average. Do you seriously believe that Paul McCartney would ever fancy you? It's a miracle that you're here with George.

"Cyn?" Asks Paul, snapping me out of thought.

"Oh! Yeah, sorry 'bout that," I chuckle.

"Did ye' hear wot I said?" He asks.

"'Bout the 'ole real girl thing? Yeah I heard ya'," I say, attempting to divert the topic. He opens his mouth to correct me, but quickly closes it, changing his mind. He just nods as if I said exactly what he was looking for.

"Well, uh' I s'pose ye' should go back ter' yer' boyfriend or somethin'," he says almost crestfallen.

"Oh, no," I laugh, "he's not me boyfriend at the moment," I say smiling at the ground attempting to hide my blush.