And Your Girl Can Sing

Chapter 11: Temperature's Rising, Jukebox Blows A Fuse

"Das ist meine Freundin," John explained to them and squeezed my arm.

One of them repeated the same thing that Astrid told me: "Ich mag dein outfit."

"Danke!" I replied enthusiastically, bouncing a little in my heels. John led me away and whispered into my ear, "You look so beautiful tonight," he said. "I've never seen anyone wear an outfit that way."

"I'm special," I giggled. He brought his mouth close to my ear and said, "You are."

***

A few hours later I was tired, to say the least. I had danced to Buddy Holly, some of the Beatles' own creations, and a few covers like Till There Was You. This was fantastic; this was better than the Paul McCartney concert I had been too, I was ecstatic with joy and that alone was probably what kept me going for the past few hours. John had turned up at the second break with another preludin and I had thought, why not.

This was now the third break the boys were taking. I wasn't not sure what time it was but it was late. Most of the girls in beehive hairdos had gone home, leaving the strippers and the slightly more rowdy crowd. Pete didn't come back for half an hour due to the arrival of his stripper girlfriend, to Paul's annoyance, so Paul just shook his head and got on the drums. No one noticed; they were all properly pissed with drink. At some point Astrid and her friends had left and I saw Stu gaze at her black clad form leaving. A half hour later a group of sailors came in and yelled aggressively, "Bonnie!" We all thought they were going to beat up the band. The boys hid behind Pete's drum set until they realized they were asking for the German hit song, "My Bonnie."

"John," I mumbled into his chest, collapsing in it. "I'm tired." He was so soft and warm but smelled like sweat. He had taken off his jacket and ran it into the room, for fear one of the girls would take it.

He took out a preludin, wordlessly offering it to me. I shook my head. "I just wanted to dance with you once tonight. And then bed."

"Oh, but we can," he said, and led me towards the boys' room.

"I'd like to sleep," I said, smiling slightly, dragging my feet. We reached the door and John took out a key and pushed open the door gently.

"Let's have that dance, shall we?"

I looked up from taking off my shoes. "Come again?"

A sudden sound interrupted me: a needle on a record, the squeak of the wooden floor, John above me, sticking out his hand. "Shall we dance?"

Wise men say

Only fools fall in

But I can't help

Falling in Love with you

This was Elvis, on the record. I slowly looked up at John with an open mouth. He raised his eyebrows. "Cheeky bird, are you going to get up? Or will I have to dance by myself?" I got up. He took my hand and pressed me close against him. His leather jacket had disappeared a long time ago; he was wearing a black t shirt and jeans. The shirt was made out of a thin material; I felt it against my cheek as I put my arms around his neck, intertwining my fingers together. He had such a gentle touch, his hands on my waist. I could hear his heartbeat, my head against his chest. We swayed for a while, Elvis crooning, Shall I stay, would it be a sin? I can't help falling in love with you... We danced our way towards the door and John's fumbling fingers found the light switch and turned it off.

I looked up at his face, but it was so dark in the room that I couldn't see him, I could just feel him, but that was fine with me.

"John," I said, drunk with exhaustion but perfectly content, "I want to see you."