Maya's POV
'' Alright then.'' I told him as I sat cross-legged and placed the notebook on my lap.
''Ask away.'' he said, leaning back on the bed and crossing his arms behind his head. I ignored the fact that I was actually interviewing John Lennon and asked the typical birthplace-birthdate-family questions.
''Wife? Girlfriend?''
''No.'' he said and I heard him mumble something that sounded a lot like ''You.''
''Are you writing anything right now?''
''Don't think so. I haven't found a muse yet. Do you know where I could find one?'' he told me, winking as he sat cross-legged in front of me, imitating my pose
''You could post a flyer.'' I joked
''She'd had to have green eyes and brown hair.''
''French women are blond. It would be hard to find a brown-haired one.''
''I've found one.'' he kept going
''Stop.'' I told him, blushing
''Stop what?'' he said, tilting his head to the side, amused
''That'' I said
''What?'' he added, dipping his head so his face was inches apart from mine
''John.'' I started to say
''Yes?'' he added innocently
''What do you think you're doing?'' His eyes drifted from mine to my lips. I remembered that midnight kiss, the warm brown milky eyes, the strong arms.
''Just an experiment.''
''Why?'' I pressed, trying to distract him
''I'm wondering about something''
''And that is?''
''Will you kiss the same?'' he ended, smirking contentedly as he pressed his lips against mine. He tasted like cigarettes, rough and bitter but incredibly soft at the same time. I hesitated, but a fire,lit inside me, making energy rush through me as I kissed him back. He was taken aback by my all too willing response when I attempted to pull him closer. He chuckled against my lips as he regained his confidence and he pulled me carefully on top of him. He laced his fingers around my waist as I threaded my fingers through his hair. He paused for a second, regaining his breath as the door burst open.
''I think that Ringo broke one of your records.'' Paul called
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Paul's POV
They were on top of each other, their faces inches apart and flushed. John had his hands around her waist, Maya had hers in his hair. They were breathing hard, John with a smug expression and Maya with a surprised and embarrassed one.
Oh, great. It's all too similar. Isn't it? Good thing your best mate always has your back. Look at you, inspiring anger and conspiracy, maybe we switched roles and you're Mama Bates and I'm the all too soft Norman. Doubt it.
I kept my gaze and my voice steady, I avoided Maya's eyes and decided to scrutinize John instead. I wanted to erase that smugness, wipe it away from his face but then I noticed in his familiar brown eyes a hint of guilt, or remorse. I cleared my throat, feeling as if the room were pressing on me, the walls closing on me, the air growing heavy and dense, not letting me breathe.
