Photography (A Beatles Fanfiction)

31 / being for the benefit of revenge!

On my way to Paul's, it was like déjà vu--none other than Samantha Jancarski was walking down his street again. 

Except she looked very...rough. Her makeup looked fine, and she ditched the red lipstick--but her hair was matted like she had just gotten out of bed. Her dress was wrinkled; and once again, very short. Oh, God. It couldn't be. Was she...?

"Bri! Lovely to see ya this Sunday morning!" she exclaimed, crashing my train of thought.

"Hi there, Samantha!" I responded in a fake happy voice. "Marvelous day, isn't it?"

"Ohhh, yes it is," she gushed, getting all dreamy-eyed. Oh no. She scurried a little closer to me and lowered her voice. "I hope you don't mind me telling you this...but I just had the best lay of my life!"

Oh dear God.

"Oh, well um, congratulations...?" I replied dully, unable to maintain my sarcastic excitement. I mean, I could have said the same for myself--but my mind was too infested with horrid thoughts of Paul and Sam hooking up.

"Thanks, Bri," she laughed, "I'll be seeing ya!" 

Sam waved and kept going the opposite direction. 

Except I didn't want to see her anymore, nor was I going to. The next day, I planned on quitting my job. I had been giving George half of my paycheck; but after a while, he stopped accepting the money. The British money would be no use back at home, so I saw no point in working anymore.

I rolled my eyes and continued on down to Paul's, trying to focus on why I was going there in the first place: to thrash out on him about the stuff I knew for sure he did. I had no idea what was going on with Sam, so I'd save that for another day.

I stomped up to his front steps, and purposefully rang the doorbell numerous times to bug him.

Paul opened up, and he was in his pajamas; looking tired and rough as well. He squinted--and I don't know if it was because of the sun, or because he saw me.

"Bri...? Hi," he muttered, blinking hard.

I stepped in and slapped him against his cheek. 

"Ow!"

"Don't 'hi' me, Paul. Not only did you hurt me, but you hurt George even more!" I yelled.

Paul quickly widened his eyes and turned pale, and he glanced around. "Shh...Jane...is sleeping."

I opened my mouth to say something, but then crossed my arms and shook my head. "You just don't get it, do you? You just used me to get over her, that's what it looks like."

"Bri, no," Paul said firmly with a frown. "That's utter bullshit. I know I fucked up, but that was uncalled for. That is not true at all. And honestly, I feel like ye just used me to get over George. But whatever."

That comment hit me like a pile of bricks.

"That's not true..." I mumbled; but then I really thought about it, and it kind of was. I turned red and scratched my ear. 

It made me think about what would have happened if I had never kissed George. Did I really like Paul? Or did I just like the idea of him? Maybe I really just liked the attention, the superiority complex. All of the things that I convinced myself that would make me feel better for not having Tanner, or George even. Maybe Paul was just a "decoy Tanner", or a substitute of the real thing--which I was never going to get.

Maybe I was was at fault here, too.

Paul took my hand and shut the door. "Let's talk in the basement."