Chapter 4 has arrived, and its now 1962! Yay, or something like that. Well now all the characters are like 20 years or older. Well except George who is like 19. But other then that, I am excited for teh story!
ENJOY! The beatles would enjoy this story :3. really, I don't know at all BUT WHO CARES!
Chapter 4: 10 Years Later
My butt was sitting on a white chair outside my apartment. The wind breezed thought my long blonde hair, causing it to flow in that direction. Around me I could see buildings point into the sky. They almost seemed to move with the air. My feet were stretched out in front of me, siting high on the sidebar of my small concrete deck. The toes sticking out of my green flip flops, where pointing towards the blue early morning sky. The sun was just above the skyline and the street was already full of life.
In my lap, I had a large note pad and a pencil in my right hand. I tapped the pencil on the thigh, thinking about what I should draw. Then it hit me. A perfect picture flooded into my mind. I could see like it was in front of my face. So I flipped open the note book and took my pencil in a normal grip. The movement of the pencil began towards the bottom of the blank white page, and slowly drew upward.
I worked fast, not wanting to lose the picture in my mind. I'm not sure what it was, but I knew it worked. I shaded in some areas, working around the page. It started with circles and just shapes, but the more detail I added, the more it came out.
I was just about to finish when a Ding! came from the door inside my apartment. Sigh! I stood and walked into my apartment through the clear door. My legs pulled me across the room, past the small kitchen, a few doors leading to different rooms. The living room was full of notebooks and notepads and paints and other drawings and such. I pushed some of the notepads out of the walkway with my foot and they went under the glass coffee table.
My hand reached forward to the handle before I actually reached the door. I heard a knock on the door, and finally I pulled open the door, with its old stained wood features. I smiled at who my eyes say.
"Hey Nick." I stepped into the hallway and put my hands into the pockets of my jeans. His red hair was slightly messy and his clothes were neat. Little freckles were sprinkled on his pale skin.
"Hey Holly." He couldn't keep eye contact with me. I brought my hands to his face, and lightly turned his head toward mine.
"What's wrong?" I asked with sincerity. I got on my tip toes, so I could look right into his brown eyes.
"Um." He pulled my hands of his of him face. I pulled them to my side, "This isn't working anymore." Four simple words felt like they punched me in the stomach, knocking all the air out of me.
"Are you," I gasped, trying to suck in the air, "Breaking up with me?" I thought Nick and I had something.
"Yes, I'm sorry." Nick didn't look sorry. I bet there was another girl. But I didn't care. Nick looked down and began towards the stairs. All of a sudden, I found my self walking back into the room and slowly over to the padio. My eyes were still stretched wide and my mouth still hung open.
I peered over the metal railing and looked down into the street. Waiting for Nick to pop out of the apartment building. Then I saw the top of his head. He raced over to a really nice car, getting inside and driving off with another girl.
I get it now. He was a gold digger. Only wanting money. He was like on the streets when I met him. He dumped me for that more rich girl.
I did have a little money, thank you very much. I made some pretty nice paintings that sold for good prices, and I wrote a book that got published and sold pretty well. But I guess that girl was richer then me. Thank god I didn't have sex with him. He just wanted me for my money.
What an ass hole!
Excuse my french, of course.
A sigh exited from my mouth and I sat back down on my white porch chair. It felt strange, so I stood back up and looked back at my chair. My notebook was still open at the picture I was working at. I picked up the notebook and the pencil and sat back on the chair.
I looked at the almost finished drawing. It made me smile. I knew exactly what it was now that I was examining the picture. It was a portrait. I knew who this person was thought I haven't see them in years. This was exactly what I thought the person would look at this age. The hair was brushed is a strange way, nobody really had this hair style but for this person it worked.
Then I thought about it. My boyfriend just dumped me, and I didn't want to see him for a while. So I figured, why not go back to Liverpool?! I haven't seen my friends and family in forever. Memories and faces filled my mind. Some made me smile, others made me laugh, some made feel a little be embarrassed.
I looked back at the picture and took my pencil in my hand and wrote two things on the page. One was my signature in the corner and the other was a simple name on the top of the page.
Paul Motherfucking Cartney
YOU ARE READING
That Boy (Book 1)
FanfictionHolly Marx lived in Liverpool as a kid. She had friends and lots of family living close by. She even got her first kiss by the one the only John Lennon. But Holly was poor and she didn't like how she looked. Yet, it gets even worst. She was living n...
