Let It Be (A Beatles Story)

Chapter Twenty-Five

I knew George had slept well that night, because we both ended up falling asleep in the living room and when I woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, he was passed out on the sofa, snoring.  

That morning, I shook his shoulder to wake him up.  "George, if you don't get up, we'll be late and John will be angry."

"George, move your ass."

"George!"

"I'm awake," he sighed into his pillow.  "I'm hungry.  What's there to eat?"

"I'm not sure.  It's your house.  But I made tea." I offered him a cup.  He rubbed his forehead, and looked at the clock.  

"Elle?"

"Yes?"

"It's Sunday.  We get the day off."

"Oh, I'm sorry, George.  I was stupid."

I think he was going to reply, but fell asleep in mid-sentence.  I laughed, and set his teacup down on the coffee table.  

Because of the realization of the date, I stayed in my comfortable pajamas for another hour as George slept.  I read through some of the diary entries, and blushed many times at some of the embarrassing things I had said.  It was smart of me to bring them to his house, for this would be something that Eleanor would just die to get her hands on.  

One of them said this:

We got some of the film developed today after going to the Strawberry Field gardens.  I look rather silly in most of them, but the lads look amazing.  There's one of Paul singing in one of  the London shows, and he looks so handsome.  I could only imagine what it's like being up on stage.  It must be so nerve-racking.  I told him that.  He said it isn't so bad.  

The screaming girls must be a great confidence booster.  Of course they would shout for them, they're amazing, afterall.  Paul could see many girls in that crowd.  But tonight, he told me that I was the only girl he wanted to see.  I told him he was awfully silly.  He just smiled.

I folded the note and set it in the bottom of the stack, my stomach churning.  The only girl he was seeing at the present time was Eleanor, and that was hard news to digest.  Selecting another one, I found one of my complete fan-girl moments, which I had long since gotten over.  

Today Paul took me to see a film at one of the theaters in Glasgow.  He was so silly.  We barely paid attention to the movie.  He kept telling me jokes and tried to get me to laugh so hard people would glare at us.  For being someone of his age, he is quite immature.  I wished things could always be like that.

It was so nice, just sitting there in the darkness.  He was so incredibly handsome, and his eyes were so cute and bright I could still see them even as the movie played.  I was thankful it was dim enough that he couldn't see all the times I blushed.  It makes me feel like a princess in a fairytale, that someone like me could end up with a boy like him.

What a complete waste of perfectly good paper.  I crumpled up the diary entry and tossed it behind me.  I scanned over a few more pictures before I felt something behind me.  

George was looking over my shoulder, and he was so close I could faintly smell his cologne.  Or was it roses...

"I didn't mean to frighten you." He said.  

"Oh, you didn't."

He reached around me and dangled the piece of crumpled paper before my eyes.  "What's this, eh?  A secret little note?"