all my loving • john lennon

011

Rosie's Point Of View.
31st October 1958.
-

We arrive at John's house ten minutes later; the house is empty.

"Me aunt has gone somewhere for the night." he offers as an explanation. I nod in response and look around; pretty nice house overall - very tidy and so incredibly unlike John.

"Want a drink, Rosie?" he starts walking out to the kitchen and I follow.

"Yeah, please."

He nods in response and starts to get me one, as well as one for himself. Passing my drink to me, he starts to walk into the living room and once again, I follow.

John sits on the couch, patting the space next to him. Feeling a little awkward, I sit down, sinking into the couch slightly.

"It's a nice place that you have here."

He shrugs in response to my compliment.

"I don't do anything other than live here; me aunt cleans it regularly though."

I nod, sipping my drink and looking around. Suddenly, John gets up, puts his drink down and walks over to the record player, flicking through the records until he gets to a certain one. He puts it on and turns around, a grin on his face.

Blue Suede Shoes by Elvis starts playing through the speakers.

John extends his arm out to me, bowing slightly.

"Care to dance, madam?" he says, attempting to do a bad interpretation of my accent.

I giggle and nod, standing up and letting him take my hand. Suddenly, we're dancing. He's spinning me; we're twisting one way and shaking another. We dance our way through the rest of the record; both of us laughing for no apparent reason at different times.

The record stops and I turn to look at John. He's slightly out of breath; his forehead a little shiny from sweat - and I think that he looks utterly amazing. He flashes a toothy smile at me, both of us left feeling happy after that.

The doorbell rings, interrupting the moment. Had that much time passed already?

John winks at me and goes to answer the door. Sitting back down on the couch, I pick up my drink and take a sip. Upon hearing people talking and entering the room, I look up to see Dot, Pete and his girlfriend Lola. I stand up yet again to greet them. As I pull Dot into a hug to say hello, I quietly ask how Paul is doing.

"He's not too bad; although he is rather quiet compared to usual." I nod to her response and sit back down again.

"So, Rosie... ye were here with John before everyone else then, ey?" Looking over at Lola, I nod slowly; my cheeks heating up ever so slightly.

"Well, yeah.. he just kind of picked me up from work, insisting that I should come back with him to keep him company until everyone else gets here." I take a sip of my drink, looking around.

"Have ye fucked yet?"

I almost spit out my drink and turn to look at Pete.

"What the fu-"

He interrupts me with laughing.
"I'm just playing with ye."

I nod slowly; my face is most likely now resembling a tomato.

John walks in the room with Paul - who's eyes are looking a little red - and takes a seat next to me; Paul placing himself down by Dot. Just as they sit down, the doorbell goes yet again; meaning George has probably just arrived. John rolls his eyes, standing up again and goes to get the door.

-

We spend the next few hours just talking; distracting Paul from the day and at some point, John picks up a guitar and starts to play it.

I feel like I can sit here and watch John play for hours on end - his voice is so calming. Most of the others are singing with him but I still stay just watching him (hopefully not creepily).

After a while, John stops playing and turns to look at me, catching me in the act.

"Starting at me again, are ye?" He smirks as he meets my eyes.

My face heats up as now everyone is staring at me; I cast my eyes to the floor.

Upon hearing an "Aww" from a collection of people, I can feel my cheeks get even more red. John puts his guitar down next to him, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me close to his side.

"I'm just playing with ye, love." and with that, he presses his lips to my head and leans back into the sofa, pulling me with him.

Quickly, the conversation drifts to something else, but John and I still stay like that on the couch; his fingers gently stroking over my shoulder - an affectionate touch that I enjoy very much.