Let It Be (A Beatles Story)

Chapter Thirteen

"One more run-through, boys, and the track will be golden," George Martin told the lads, who were all quite tired, even though it was still early in their session.  

They played it through again, and then unofficially declared a break. Three-fourths of the Beatles left to get a drink.  Paul stayed.  

I tried to ignore his gaze as I read the newpaper, but I could tell he was really eager to talk to me.  He tapped his foot and rubbed his lip while staring at the clock.  As soon as thirty seconds passed, he got up. 

He pulled me into the recording studio and shut the door.  "I need to talk to you about the other night."

"Paul, I'm not sure if now is the best time for this." I tried to change the subject, sitting down on the piano bench.  

He sat down next to me.  "I need to know what you think about me.  And I need you to know how I feel about you."  He bit his lip.  How could he be the nervous one?  I didn't know how I felt about Paul.  How could I ever know?

"Well...um..." I couldn't have been more uncomfortable in this situation. "I think you're...an amazing kisser."

Paul blushed and looked down, his mop-top hair flopping over his eyes. "You are too."  I felt the heat creep onto my cheeks.  Kissing him was definitely a highlight of my escapade so far. 

After a moment of silence, he scooted closer to me and whispered, "I find myself very attracted to you."  

I got up immediately.  "I find myself in a public place where certain band members can come in and see us any moment."

Paul smirked and stood up too.  He took my hands in his and pulled me close.  My heart stopped in my chest.

"Don't forget about how we felt," he whispered in my ear.  "You can't forget about that night, Elle."

I pulled away from him, somewhat frightened of this new side of Paul.  Where was the sweet, sensitive, slightly-quirky boy I knew?  

But then the glitter in his eye disappeared, knowing he had scared me.  He looked down at the ground, a blush growing on his cheeks.  "You don't feel the same, do you?"

"I like you, Paul, but I might have lead you on more than I intended to." 

Paul looked back up at me.  His big brown eyes bore into mine.  "Then how do you feel about me?

"I like you a lot.  I hate to admit it, but I do."

He moved closer to me, taking one of my hands.  "Why do you hate to admit it?"

"I've found it hard to trust men lately, Paul." I whispered.  Thoughts of Dad swirled in my mind, and he knew it.  His expression softened.  

"I'm sorry, Elle."

"Don't worry about it."  I started to head back towards the door, but Paul stopped me. 

"You know that I would never hurt you, right?"

I nodded, looking down at the ground.  Paul brushed a strand of hair out of my face.  "I don't mean to frighten you, Elle.  I just want to know if you trust me."

I looked up at him, swallowing back my fear.  "I do trust you, Paul.  I'm just not sure if I know what to think of the kiss, though."  I normally hated talking about kissing, especially when it involved around me, but this discussion wasn't as uncomfortable as I thought.  Because I did really care about Paul, and I knew he did care about me.  

"What if I could make you feel that way again?" He whispered, holding my hand.  Pulling me close, he kissed me gently.  He held my face in his hands, his thumb brushing across my cheek.  After we pulled away for a breath, he kissed me again, but roughly.