Yesterday

Chapter 21

CHARLOTTE'S POV

The Beatles' rest of the week off was unusually quiet, and I had a bad feeling it was because of me. The boys decided to go out clubbing a few of the nights, but every time Paul would quickly suggest that I stayed back, and that he would stay with me.

Honestly, I didn't know what was worse. Being out and seeing things that reminded me of Elizabeth, of being cooped up in this hotel room with nothing to do. By the end of the week, I was even more miserable than before.

I tried to act as happy as possible around Paul, because I didn't want him to feel like it was his fault. He was only trying to help. After the day in the park he hadn't said anything about what had happened, but I knew I had crushed him, and I felt awful about it. I didn't want to hurt him anymore.

I'm not saying that Paul didn't make me happy, because he really truly did. In fact, spending so much time with him made me feel the happiest I've felt in years. Especially in these past few days - we had become really close. But even when I felt happy, something felt like it was...missing. There was always something that wasn't quite right.

It was the last night of their week off, and the boys had gone out for drinks. Except me and Paul, of course. I sat on the couch and read the newspaper while Paul was playing the piano. He suddenly stopped and turned around.

"I'm starving. Are you hungry, love?"

I shrugged. "Not really." I knew that he had kind of picked up on my small appetite.

"Well, I'm going to make a little something. Do you want to help me make it?"

"I'm not much of a cook."

"Me neither. We'll learn together." A playful smile spread out across his face. Not being able to resist, I smiled back. He rose up from the piano bench and came over to me, reaching out his hand. Taking it, I stood up and we made our way into the kitchen. Paul swung the fridge open.

"Hmm, let's see...There's some frozen chips in here, and I think there's some fish in the freezer. How does that sound?"

"Sounds easy enough."

He brought the food over and laid it all out on the counter.

"You know, my mom used to have an old family recipe for fish," he said, and all of a sudden it occurred to me that his mother had passed away years ago. How could I have forgotten that?

"She used to add the perfect amount of spices...I doubt I could replicate it," he mused, running his hand through his hair in thought, making it stand up messily. I nearly gasped, he looked gorgeous. Fretting around the kitchen, he pulled several spices from the cabinets and layed them out. "Let's see, a teaspoon of this, a teaspoon of that..." I think he forgot that the both of us were supposed to be cooking.

"I'll turn the oven on, for the fries," I said, wanting to make myself useful. He looked at me and smiled, glad that I was helping out.

We worked in silence for a while until both the fries and the fish were in the oven cooking. Figuring we may as well start to clean while the food cooked, I took all the plates and bowls over to the sink and began to wash them.

"Let me help you, love," Paul said, walking up behind me and taking the plate from my hand.

"I think I got this one myself, thanks," I snapped. I appreciated that he was trying to help me, but he didn't have to keep treating me like a baby. He didn't answer, but he continued to help me do the dishes in silence.

I started to feel bad that I had yelled at him like that. I mean, he was only trying to help me get through this. Looking over at him, I splashed him with a little bit of hot, soapy water. His eyes widened in shock as he looked up at me, but slowly turned into a mischievous smile. He cupped his hands, letting the water collect inside, and promptly threw it right in my face. I stepped back, shocked. He almost started to look guilty, like what he had just did was a big mistake, but I gave him a smirk.

"You are so going to regret that," I said, grabbing the dish towel and twisting it up. He gasped.

"You wouldn't!"

He yelped out as I began to chase him around the kitchen, whipping the towel at the back of his legs. "Ow! Stop! It stings!" he choked out, laughing so hard he could hardly breathe. Winding up the towel extra tightly, I whipped it out, accidentally catching him right in the bum. My eyes widened. He quickly spun around. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

Paul burst out laughing right before he tackled me, sending us both flying onto the couch. He began to tickle me in spots that he knew I couldn't handle. "Paul! Stop! It tickles-!" I gasped out in laughter, trying to squirm out of his grasp, but it was useless. I squealed as he went for my underarms, my biggest weak spot. "PAUL! NO!"

He threw his head back and laughed. After at least ten minutes of wrestling around, we paused for a minute, breathless. He was laying on top of me, and I was curled up into a ball underneath him. In all the madness, I don't think we had realized how close we'd gotten. His face was only inches away from mine. I could feel his hot breath on my neck, and it made me shiver. He was looking right at me, and I was looking straight back. I studied him; hazel eyes that sparkled, tousled dark brown hair, and a button down shirt that was starting to come loose. I sighed. He was just stunning. I noticed he was starting to lean in. I didn't know what to do. Do I let him kiss me? What if I liked it too much? If I let him get too close to me, I knew all I would do is hurt him. I turned my head away from him.

"I'm sorry, Paul."

His bright eyes looked sad for a moment, but then the light was restored in them.

"Don't worry about it, love. I think the food is ready by now, let's go eat, eh?" Getting up from the couch, he walked back over to the kitchen, and I followed. I sat down at the counter as he prepared two plates for us. Taking a bite, I looked up at him.

"This is amazing, Paul," I said. He smiled and blushed.

"You really think so?"

"Of course."

He smugly ate his food. "Oh, and these chips," he said, kissing his fingertips. "Simply incredible." I laughed. Once we had finished, Paul stood up from the table and looked at me.

"Goodnight, Char," he said, coming over and giving me a hesitant kiss on the forehead. His lips left a warm spot on my head.

"Goodnight, Paul."