12. Red Hot

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My gal is red hot,

Your gal ain't doodly squat.

'George, stop it,' I protest in a whisper.

'I'm not doing anything,' he says, but he knows as well as I do, that's not true.

'Stop it now, or I'm getting up,' I say, in a firmer, sterner voice.

George draws a deep breath and rolls off me. He looks annoyed as he puts his forearm over his eyes.

I chew my lip and sit up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.

'Hannah,' he says softly, stroking my back. 'Come back, I'm sorry.'

'We should probably get up anyway. It's getting late.'

He removes his arm from his eyes. 'Lie down, Han. I'll be good, promise.'

I hesitate but then get back into the bed with him. There's hardly enough room in George's narrow bed. I thought my bed at the hostel was small, but this one is worse. Still, it's quite nice, having to cuddle up to him, except when he gets carried away. He said we could take things slow, but perhaps my idea of that and his are two different things.

'Just seems a shame to waste it, that's all,' he says moving closer to me.

'Waste what?'

'Having the room to ourselves,' he says, that look in his eye is back.

We stayed at the boys place last night. Both of us; Minnie with John and me with George. Minnie got up early again this morning and left. A while later, John, Paul and Pete went out for breakfast.

'I'm kiddin',' he says, but I don't think he is. 'Don't look so worried.' He kisses me again.

'I'm just not ready yet,' I say to him.

George smiles. 'That's okay.'

'We've just got back together.'

'Yeah, after about four days apart.'

'I haven't seen you in two months.'

'Yeah, but Hannah, it's fine. We can just be like we were at home, in Liverpool.'

I smile at him, doubtful, and he kisses me again, his hand tentatively caressing my side through the fabric of the t-shirt he's loaned to me.

It's not like it was in Liverpool. There's big differences. At home, we were restricted by when and where we could be together. Kisses and fumbles in bus shelters and park band stands. Here, we're sharing a bed, and we're getting undressed and it all feels a bit too much.

His hand is underneath the shirt now, feeling the fabric of the bra I'm still wearing. I shift uncomfortably and sit up. 'George.'

'Alright,' he says, sitting up himself. 'Alright, lets get dressed and go out then. Do you want to go first?' He nods towards the wash room which is over the corridor from the boys bedroom. It's filthy in there. I don't know how they can all stand using it.

'You go first,' I tell him.

George scrambles over me as he gets out of the bed, gives me one last brief kiss and disappears out of the door, taking a towel with him.

I lie down in the bed again while I wait for him. It's always cold in this room, and colder still when he's not lying next to me. I pull the blanket over me but that's not much better so I get out of bed and put my jumper on over George's t-shirt.

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