Chapter 34: When One Gets Drunk, One's Inhibitions Usually Run Freely

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Y'all was gonna post this one later but I just got back to college and can't sleep so enjoy loll

Lmk what you think of the plot! I was just reading through past chapters and I wanted to thank you all so much for your supportive comments, they really help me keep writing. I was #1 in Beatles and now I'm #1 in JohnLennon and at 11.1k reads and I couldn't have done it without you, really, so y'all deserve this chapter!


"Y/n, get up."

I recognized the voice through groggy waves of sleep, rolled over to grab a pillow, and swung it at George. I felt a satisfying thud as the soft feathers hit their target.

"Oh, so you want to play like that, huh?" George grabbed a pillow and swung his arm back, but so did I, and our pillows met in midair. Obviously, I was now fully awake. I rolled off the bed and planted my feet in a defensive stance. "Come at me, Harrison," I growled.

"Watch out," he smirked, his fang showing. As I lifted the pillow into the air in response to his smirk, Harry called from the open door, "Is that any way to behave on Christmas Day?"

"It's bloody Christmas?" George said, his mouth gaping open.

"Is that any way to speak on Christmas Day?" I shot back at him, smirking. Behind my smirk I hid surprise. I also had no idea it was Christmas day. The Harrisons didn't have a tree (George had mentioned once they were less than middle class) and Liverpool was, simply not very festive. There were fairy lights strung up at the library and a tree but I suppose I had walked right past it. When Martin bade me goodbye all that sat stewing in my head was his conflict with John.

"Come on, you two, breakfast is on the stove."

I leapt to my feet. "Oh, darn, I was supposed to do that. I overslept—"

Harry held up his hand to silence me, and Louise, George's sister, also appeared at the door. "Morning," she said. "Don't worry about it. It was nice to help mum with breakfast while I'm home."

"Louise! When did you get in?' George said with an exclamation of surprise, standing up to give his sister a warm hug. "Fiancee let you go for one day?"

"He's here," she said. "Downstairs. Now come on, you lot, get dressed and we'll eat. Mum's cooking up a storm."

After they left, I quickly donned a pair of black sleek pants and a turtleneck made out of a baggy material. I was suddenly made aware that I looked quite out of place when I saw the homemade jumpers and casual khakis the Harrison family was wearing, save George, who like me had gotten used to Hamburg fashion.

"Good morning," I told everyone, smiling shyly. "Louise, I'm so sorry I didn't help with breakfast—"

"You deserved a break, besides, dear I'm happy to have you here. You're so polite and helpful," she said with a smile. She too was sporting a Christmas jumper. I felt a pang of guilt, especially as I looked over to a tree-less living room. There had to be something I could do, a job I could get, in which I could help finance the Harrisons and stay somewhere until I got that damn book problem solved.

"Are you all right, dear?"

I realized I had a look not far from ridiculous on my face. "Just fine. Just really taking in how great these pancakes are."



Qualifications, qualifications...

There was an interesting pattern on the carpeted ground. I traced the swirls with my foot; they reminded me of the late 1960s—acceptable choice of office decor in 2017 but in 1960? Strange.

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