⇾ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 | 𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐈

↠ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

MONDAY, JANUARY 4, 1960

All Alexandria could see was darkness, and all she could feel was full-body pleasure. She and Paul had found a new favorite spot in Liverpool. In a field down the road from Paul's house, they'd found an old shack. They weren't sure if the person who owned the field even knew it was there, but they certainly knew that the person had no clue that two teenagers were using it as a spot for making a bit of romance. The grass was soft and it was easy to hop the fence. Unfortunately, it was getting quite cold these days, and whenever they came out here for some privacy, they had bring some sort of insulation for themselves. It was a bit hard to sneak blankets through the front door, though, and Alexandria had been caught once by Kathleen, who immediately swooped in with a thousand questions as if she had rehearsed them for this exact situation. After that one talk, Paul had been given the trouble of sneaking out the blankets for them. finally, they'd got bored of trying to sneak them out and found a compartment in the shack where they stored an old, battered comforter. It wasn't like the piece of fabric was that flattering. It'd probably be better if it were ruined by some outside force.

With her eyes closed, Alexandria had to feel for Paul to get a glimpse in her mind of how he may have looked. Her fingers found his hair—one of her favorite things about him—and she let out a wistful sigh.

"Gonna look at me or what, Alex?" Paul was getting a bit wound up now, and Alexandria only had to hear his voice to tell. His tone was low and gruff.

Alexandria's eyes opened and Paul's face was directly over top of hers. "Course I'll look at you, Paul," Alexandria replied. "If that's what you want."

"I mean, you usually do," Paul said, then he smirked. He rolled off of Alexandria and laid on his side. Alexandria rolled over to face him. "You aren't imaginin' that I'm Elvis again, are ye?" he teased.

Alexandria giggled. "How'd you know?" she responded, feigning shock. She paused and her eyes scanned Paul's face. "Have you ever thought about how unconventional it is that we decided to shack up in a...well, in a literal shack?" she mused.

"I like to take expressions like that quite seriously, my dear Annie," Paul mused, reaching over and combing through her red hair.

"What'd I tell you about calling me that, McCartney?" Alexandria asked, her cheeks turning red. "It sounds silly."

"And what did I tell you about calling me Paulie? If there ever was a silly nickname, then it was definitely that one."

Alexandria grinned and scooted closer to Paul, their legs intertwining underneath the large comforter fighting off the cold. "Paulie isn't silly. I think it's cute!"

"Well, I think that Annie is cute too." Alexandria rolled her eyes and Paul wrapped his arms around her. She snuggled up against his chest and closed her eyes again just to rest them. She was tired. She'd been losing more and more sleep each night after she and George's...incident on Christmas. Just thinking about it made her nauseous and confused. She wasn't sure what it meant, and she wasn't even really sure if she had had any blame for it. Had she leaned in too? She didn't think so.