In Your Atmosphere (Paul McCartney/Beatles Fanfiction)

Chapter 29 - San Francisco Bay Blues

Marisol had early classes on Paul's first morning in California. She fed and watered the horses and let them out to graze, with Paul beside her watching and keeping up a lively commentary. He and Neil were on England time and had been awake for hours. They insisted on driving with her to school, where they drank coffee and sampled pastries in the Student Union Building and wandered around the grounds. No one expected to see a Beatle on a college campus in Northern California, and with Paul's hair combed back and his glasses on he looked like just another student. When they tired of the college scene, Neil and Paul took Marisol's car into town and browsed the local record stores and bookshops, making it back to campus by noon to pick her up.

The sun was hot and they took a cool dip in the pool, then had lunch and sunbathed for a few hours until it was time to meet Marisol's best friend Donna.

It turned out Paul and Donna were not a match made in heaven. Donna thought he was too full of himself, and he thought she was, to put it in his words, a right bitch.

They drove into the city in Donna's car, because it was a red convertible Mustang with a white leather interior, and you couldn't get much more fun than that on four wheels. And because Donna liked to drive so she could be in control. They drove downtown first, checking out the scene, but ended up on the other side of the city at a small Irish club a short block from the beach.

It was a Monday night and quiet. A single performer sat onstage with an acoustic guitar, singing what sounded like Irish folk music.

"This music is boring as hell," Donna said. The others ignored her, discussing whether or not to order Irish beer and what sort of appetizers they wanted. The pretty waitress had a lovely Irish brogue and Neil chatted her up, asking where she was from and how she liked living in the States.

Two beers in, Donna decided to pick at Paul. "Hey Liverpool. Who does your eyebrows?"

"Aw, sod off." Paul gave her a tiny smirk.

"No, they're beautiful, really. I would kill to have eyebrows like yours." Donna eyed him speculatively. "They're perfect."

Under the table, Paul squeezed Marisol's hand. Above the table, he gave her a wink.

Donna narrowed her eyes. "And your mouth is beautiful. Like a woman's. Maybe we should call you Paula." She smiled an evil little smile. "Hey Paula."

Marisol sighed. "Donna, what is up with you? You're acting like you have diarrhea of the mouth or something."

Paul smirked for real this time. "Maybe we should call you "Donna-rhea."

"Oh yeah?" Donna arched a brow. "I'd like for you to be GONE-a-rhea."

Neil laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.

Marisol slapped her palm on the table. "Okay, that's it. I'm going to the restroom, and when I get back, you two will have kissed and made up." She stood, slinging the strap of her purse over her shoulder. "I love both of you, and you must pretend to tolerate each other in my presence. It's only for a week, you can do it," she said, giving Donna a smack on the back of the head on her way past.

When she came out of the bathroom, Paul was standing outside the door in the darkened hallway. He was on her in seconds, pushing her back against the wall, capturing her mouth with his. He pushed her blouse out of the way, tasting her collarbone. "Hello, beauty. I thought you'd never get back. Is there a lock on that door to the loo?"

"Um...I th-think so...why?" She was stammering, her heart racing.

He sucked at her lower lip. "Let's find out, shall we?"