Love, Love Me Do (Beatles story)

Chapter Ten - Ringo, You Naughty Boy

~Charlene’s P.O.V~

I knew George was up to something, I just didn’t know what. I was nervous about leaving the apartment. I mean, it was the first time in a week that we’d left the apartment, Brian didn’t even know we were gone, the only one that knew were Ringo, Paul and John and knowing them they’d probably forgot. . . until our bodies turned up violently murdered and possibly, in George’s case, raped.

Who knew what those crazy Beatlemaniacs were capable of? I shuddered at the thought of those fans, those twisted girls –and, er, delusional boys- had me shaking with fear. I was scouting every corner that we turned, just to be sure that no fans were around to kill me -in the slowest, most painful manner that they could think of, no doubt- or whatever they had in mind for me, the girl who was living their messed up fantasies.

Who knew if I would ever outgrow my (perfectly rational, of course) fear of the (psycho)Beatles fans.

George kept laughing at the way I was staring into the faces of innocent bystanders and craning my neck to peer around every corner we reached. I must of looked like an escaped lunatic, but I didn’t care, not even when people started looking at me funnily.

I did get embarrassed when people started whispering to one another behind their hands, pointing at me and giving George sympathetic glances.

I ducked my head, cheeks flaming, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow me. God, I’d just humiliated myself, lucky no one seemed to recognise George or me because if the media found out about George’s mad girlfriend, it wouldn’t look good for anyone, not me, not George, not John, not Paul, not Ringo, hell, it would even be bad for Brian Epstien!

I tried voicing my worries to George, but he didn’t seem to care, in fact, he actually had the nerve to laugh. Yeah, that’s right, George Harrison actually laughed right into my face.

“George! It’s not funny,” I whined. “What in case I really do ruin the band?”

George bit his bottom lip as he instantly seemed to sober up. “Is that what your worried about? Love, don’t worry about the band. You’re just making yourself look like an idiot, not us,” he giggled as he finished speaking.

I narrowed my eyes at him, “Oh thank you, my beloved, boyfriend. You certainly do have a way with words.”

“I know,” he smirked.

“I can see why you don’t talk much in interviews.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you’re too impolite.”

“I am polite, just not always,” he chuckled.

I rolled my eyes, “You’re too blunt and honest.”

Now it was George’s turn to roll his eyes, “Maybe that’s why we get on together so well.”

“I’m not –“ I started, but broke off upon noticing the wide smile upon George’s face, revealing his crooked teeth.

“Sure you’re not.”

“Alright, so maybe I am,” I agreed, returning his smile with one of my own.

“That’s my girl,” he smirked.

I bit my lip, I wouldn’t be his girl for long more, I’d be back in my own time soon. I quickly shook the thought off before I ruined his good mood or ended up changing my mind about the whole returning to the correct time. “George,” I began, placing a bright smile onto my face. “Where are we going?” I asked, swinging our clasped hands back and forth.