Chapter 27: That Awkward Family Dinner, Except It's With Your Friends

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Here's a slightly longer chapter in the midst of my finals week at college :-) Thank you for all your support! 7.5k reads and #1 in Beatles!??!?!? Never thought I'd get this far, but I only have you all to thank. I'm super excited to see where this story takes me. Hope you enjoy! <3

Later that night we had all gone out for drinks. Paul and I had come out of the theater holding hands and smiling, his warm hand in mine. George said something about drinks and we had all piled into a cab and wound up at some obscure Irish pub.

The boys ordered beers and went over to the pool table to start the game. Anna started to follow them, but hesitated and sat down next to me at the bar.

"So, y/n, you and Paul, now?" Anna asked me, her head on her elbow. I looked at the tiny wristwatch she wore on her left hand—it was twelve fifteen, a couple minutes past midnight.

"Me and Paul," I confirmed, the words sounding strange in my mouth. I grinned in spite of it. "It's really something, isn't it? Especially after I said I hated him so much. But we already know about me. What about you?"

"Me? What's there to say about me?" Anna said.

"Well, it's pretty obvious George is into you," I smirked at her. She swatted me on the shoulder. "That's what you think."

I glanced over at George and Paul at the pool table. George was halfway hidden by the smoky light, but Paul was leaning over, bending to reach a pool ball. He caught my eye and blew a kiss at me. I laughed, turned back, and saw two martinis at the counter.
"Courtesy of those two," the bartender said, winking at us.

"Come have a game," George called. Anna and I drank up and made our way towards the boys. George broke; the white ball hit the triangle poorly and the balls rolled lazily around like people on a hot summer day.

"My go," Paul said, and took the pool cue from George. He aimed, and a striped ball went inside.

"Stripes, baby," Paul said, grinning and doing an Elvis impression, one hip leaning against the pool table, giving me a sly smile. I walked up to him and put one hand on his chest. "We're gonna win this one, you know?"

"You betcha—"

"Fucking hell, lovebirds," George said, "It's your turn again. You potted."

Paul took the cue and shot again, but failed. He took a swig of beer and handed the cue to Anna. She bent over and positioned the cue carefully, her red hair still in place with a tie.


"Hell yeah," George cheered, coming round to put his arm around her. "That's my pool partner." I caught a glimpse of his fang as Anna stuck her tongue out and potted another ball, and another in the corner pocket.

"Damn, Anna, you never told me you could play," I said, astounded, as she made another. "Well, Paul, I'm not sure if we can win now."

"Loser buys next round of drinks," Anna said mischievously.

"Oh no," Paul said, laughing. "Whatever are we to do?"


It was around a week later that I ran into him again. The past few days had all blurred together like a giant swirl: me, Paul, coffee, Anna and George flirting around but neither of them doing anything about it. Cafe work, little snippets of home swirling around in my mind, but less and less than I had been thinking about since I had gotten to Hamburg, which now felt like my home.

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