i believe in yesterday ☽ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒 [𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐧𝐞]

𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐨𝐧𝐞

george's weekend was jam-packed with adventure; he and molly had another one of their infamous sleepovers a few weeks later.

it all began when george was on his morningly call with her.

"hello, giovanin residence, " molly answered her house phone, already knowing it was george.

"i'm pretty sure i'm the only one who ever calls your house this early, molly," george said. "why don't you just say 'hey george'?"

"because if it's not you, that would be pretty embarrassing..." she simply said.

"don't worry about it, molly. so what's up? any gossip with the girls?" he grinned at the last sentence.

"no... no gossip this week, georgie-porgie. when can i see you? i haven't seen you since last week!" she twirled her hair as she began to get dressed for school.

"how about friday night? sleepover? my place? or yours... that's cool too, i guess," he rushed his words.

"well, calm down first," she laughed. "no need to talk so fast!"

"sorry, i'm just excited!" he yelped.

molly sighed and checked her clock. "look, friday works for me at my place. bring your guitar or something so we can sing and chat!"

"okay! see 'ya!" he yelled, then hung up the phone.

molly went on with her week normally, but george was only thinking of friday. friday. partially of band practice, but mostly friday.

"george, focus! i said, how's molly?" paul snapped at him to grab his attention. they kind of officially made up after paul broke it off with molly, so now george wasn't passive aggressive to him anymore.

"oh... er, yeah, she's good," he stuttered. they were at his house, studying upstairs. "how's dot?"

"she's great. and not just mentally, but physically, too," he winked. george rolled his eyes and smiled.

he put down his notebook used for homework and faced paul. "could she be compared with molly?" he snickered.

paul snapped his head towards him and gritted his teeth. "molly and dot are very different," he said hastily. "molly was a thing to be cherished. dot is more of a thing to- i don't know... she lets me do whatever i want with her, i suppose." he explained.

"and? molly didn't?" george wondered.

paul thought before he put his notebook down, too. "no. she was quite delicate," he said. "i was afraid she'd blow away if i even breathed too hard, honest,"

"so molly just has more self-respect for herself than dot does?" george spat.

"you don't know a thing about dot, george. shut-yer-mouth," he picked his book back up.

george scoffed and picked his up too. they were both sat at a small desk in the middle of his room. "at least i know which girl i should be grateful for..." he whispered.

"what?" paul hollered.

"nothing, nothing... you go back to studying..."

*

it wasn't long before friday came, and george could hardly bear it. he waited until the said time to go, then he was gone in the blind of an eye.

he brought some elvis and buddy holly records with him for molly and a bag stuffed with the essentials. clothes, toothbrush, comb, gel, cologne just in case...

knock knock. it was george at the front door.

"i'll get it!" molly shouted before barreling down the stairs to answer the door.

"who's at the door?" her mother asked.

"george!" she said excitedly as she forced opened the creaky door. eduardo must've broken it before her mother broke up with him. "come in,"

"hello miss giovanin," he said politely to molly's mother.

"george," she nodded as she went back to the kitchen.

george and molly went back up the stairs into her room, molly slamming it behind her. "so," she began. "what's new?"

george shook his head and smiled. "not a thing," he simply said.

molly's eyebrows furrowed after she said this; usually he'd always be telling her the newest thing in george's world, whether it be something that had to do with the band or just him.

"nothing?"

"not really, no." he mused.

she shrugged it off with a sigh as they sat on her bed. "no troubles with the band?"

all he did was shake his head. "i can't believe next year's the start of the sixties..." molly nodded along. "i wonder where i'll be ten years from now when i'm twenty-six,"

"i assume you've thought about this?"

george nodded somberly. "i just hope i'm happy. that's all that matters to me."

"i hope i'm happy too. what'd'you wanna do when you're older, anyways?" she asked.

he laid his head down so his feet lazily hung over the bed, remembering the crazy night when molly started crying hysterically over paul the first sleepover after they broke up. molly followed suit so that she lay right next to him in his position.

"i want to be... i want to be an influencer," he said. "like someone who makes a difference. more importantly, a musician,"

molly laughed and put her hands behind her head. "i think i want to be a doctor. or a journalist. whichever comes first, i suppose,"

"a doctor? you mean a nurse, don't you?"

"no, a doctor. y'know, like elizabeth blackwell," she said. george only chuckled, hoping she'd just become a journalist like she said she wanted to be instead.

they sat in silence for over five minutes before george spoke. they were just laying there, thinking about the future, setting goals and hoping for the best along the way.

"do you think we'll make it? johnny and the moondogs- well, stuart, our new bassist says we should change it to the beatals, but i think it's a bit ambitious,"

"you've got a new bassist?" molly sat on her elbows and faced him, slowly grabbing his backpack for some snacks and maybe cards.

she nodded to the cards, then him before he answered. he shortly nodded back.

"yeah. stuart sutcliffe. he's a bit older because he's john's friend, but i like him."

molly started shuffling the cards and handing him some. they always played happy families together. they sat up to sit criss-crossed facing each other on the bed.

"well, yeah, i obviously think you'll make it!" she said, referring to his previous question.

"thanks," george blushed. "mr. stamp?"

"no. mr. green?"

"here," he reluctantly handed it over. "do you think we're good enough to make it?"

molly stopped and stared at him. "george," she squinted her eyes at him. "johnny and the- the beatals are the best band ever!"

george scoffed and shook his head. "mr. block?"

"yeah," she handed the card to him. "i'm totally serious, george!"

"you're just saying that," he stated. "go,"

"oh, uh... mr. cooke?" she looked through her deck.

"here," he handed her the card and huffed. "you're not joking? we're that good?"

"i would rather listen to you guys than elvis, and that's saying something."

george gasped and shook her head at her. "no one," he started. "is better than the king."