Let It Be (A Beatles Story)

Chapter Seven

My whole body was throbbing when I woke up. I pushed my blonde hair out of my eyes when I felt my hand brush something on my neck.

I was wearing a necklace when I went back in time.

How could I not have noticed it?

It was a tiny, gold heart-shaped locket on a matching chain. My mom gave it to me when I was little. It was too small for a picture to fit in it, so sometimes I slipped tiny notes inside. I toyed with it for a few minutes. 

 And then I realized I wasn't alone in the room. 

John was laying right next to me, his hands behind his head, eyes closed. His chest rose and fell slowly. 

Five minutes, right, John?

"John, wake up."

"John."

I shook his shoulder, and he just rolled over in response. Annoyed, I grabbed my pillow and smacked him with it. He shot up immediately. 

"Elle, stop it!" He groaned. He sat up rubbing his eyes, and I smirked at his expression. 

"I need some help moving. Can you help me?"

"I'll help you." He stood up, stretched, and yelled: "Paul, get in here and help Elle!" 

I swear it took about twenty seconds for him to appear in the doorway. John left. 

"Morning, Elle."

"Morning, Paul." 

"We're catching the train soon," He said, helping me up. "You best get ready soon. Brian wants to talk to all of us too."

He stopped walking for a moment, and turned to face me. As much as I hated to admit it, the look in his hazel eyes made my heart flutter. "I wish I could have done something." He brushed my cheek with a calloused hand. I gently pushed his hand away, feeling weird being touched. 

"No one could have done anything. We were lucky to get out of there in one piece." I said, no humor in my voice. His gaze fell from my eyes to my neck. "Elle, your neck looks horrible..."

Paul was correct. My whole neck was purple and black. He reached out to touch me, but I pushed his hand away again. It was almost like a game. How many times will it take for him to be able to touch me?

"I'm not going to hurt you." He whispered. His fingers brushed the damaged skin. The fact that he was so close made my heart race. I winced, and he stopped. 

For a moment I thought he was going to kiss me (and the thought was very appealing), but then he said, "Let's keep going. We haven't made it down the hall yet."

All of the lads were in the living room, including George. He was worse off than I was. He had a black eye and a split lip. It was good he had a shirt on, because he probably was covered in bruises. 

Brian yelled for a few minutes, about being responsible. They had an image and a reputation to keep. They couldn't be wandering around late at night. They couldn't being putting themselves in danger.

It was bad publicity.

And it wasn't safe.

He sighed. "Do I have to keep you from going out, is that what I have to do?"

Paul and John looked like they were ready to fight when I stood up.

"It was my fault. I wanted to go out last night, and George offered to take me. We went to a pub down the way, and he had a few drinks. While we were coming back, I realized that there were people following us, but by then it was too late..." I explained. "So don't take it out on them. It was my fault. And I'm really sorry."