smooth sailing ~ paul mccartney - discontinued

~ six ~

louisa;

my meeting with paul had come around slowly as monday and tuesday both dragged on like hell. after school had finished i stayed behind in the library to study a bit; the boys school finished later than ours on purpose to limit the two's interactions. however, many girls still stayed behind thirty minutes to meet up with boys and today i was one of them.

i sat on the wall before my school and waited patiently for a little before i heard their school bell ring and soon enough a wave of teenage boys started to come out the front entrance.

i looked around for paul, soon seeing him leaving  school with george at his side. george noticed me and waved, paul diverted his gaze towards where i was sat. he smiled slightly weakly, turned to george and said a seemingly awkward goodbye.

i jumped down from the wall as he approached me. "my goodness, is this paul mccartney not wearing leather and without an ounce of gel in his hair? you must be an imposter!" i said over dramatically.

he rolled his eyes a little and i said, "don't worry, i think you look rather dapper in your uniform."

"thanks, i hate it," he said as we began to walk down the street.

"so tell me, james. where are we heading?" i asked.

"the café by the farmers market?" paul suggested and i nodded.

~

paul and i sat opposite each other in the café, both ordering cups of coffee to keep us going. outside the leaves on the tree were turning shades of auburn and violent reds as autumn sprung into full throttle.

paul and i hadn't said much since we arrived but suddenly he spoke up. "so how's things with your dad?" he asked.

"they're fine, well as fine as they can be," i said, letting out a small chuckle, "you know i just don't get my parents."

"how come?" he asked, taking a small sip from his coffee.

i shrugged. "they're just... i don't know. it's like, a lot of the time my dad doesn't care where i am or what i'm doing really, they fall asleep before i get home on nights when i go to the casbah. they never wait up for me. but then the next moment he's yelling at me for something as small as smoking cigarettes. he doesn't approve of the people i hang out with, calls people like john bums," i explained.

paul laughed a little. "i can see why he may think that," he said and i rolled my eyes playfully.

"yeah and then there's my mother," i continued. "she just doesn't seem to care much at all about me, i think she's lost hope really. of course i know she loves me, she's my mother, but at the same time i don't think she'd really care if i was dying in some ditch. i always come home late, and for all she knows i could be getting up to goodness knows what, yet she just doesn't care. she only would care if my father did. i mean what about you, you get home even later than me, doesn't your mum worry about you?"

paul placed his mug back down on the table, looking down at it. "uh lou, my mother died," he said. i felt my skin turn ghostly white and i lifted a hand to my mouth.

"oh my gosh paul, i'm so sorry. i didn't-"

he chuckled slightly. "no, no. don't apologise, it was an honest mistake," he said reassuringly.

i nodded slightly, though my expression still grave. "how long has it been?" i asked.

"three years at the end of this month. cancer it was," he said slightly sadly.

"i'm sorry paul, it must be a real bitch losing your mother so young," i said.

he nodded. "yeah, it's hard but you know, you have to move on. there's no point just being sad your whole life because it's not like that'll change anything. it's like last year when john's mum died, he was an absolute state and to be honest, i still don't think he's exactly recovered from it but you have to move on, that's what i told him."

i smiled at him. it was admirable how mature he was, and i couldn't believe i was saying that about paul mccartney. and he proceeded to talk about his mother, how lovely she was and all his childhood memories with her. mary mccartney.

"sorry. i don't want to bore you," he eventually said.

i shook my head. "you're not boring me."

"well that's enough of me rambling on anyway. so what about you?" he asked.

"you'll have to elaborate your question paul," i said bluntly.

"in the eighteen months we've known each other, we haven't actually properly gotten to know each other. so just tell me the typical shit - what you enjoy doing and all that."

"okay well, i like rock and roll of course. uhh.. i read a lot in my spare time i guess, i often stay up late reading. oh, and i'm also learning piano, but it can be quite difficult learning yourself, especially when you can't read sheet music," i let out a short laugh.

"i could teach you," paul chirped.

"really? you can play?"

"yeah! i used to have lessons for a bit as a kid but i got bored of it you know, i didn't like just learning scales, didn't match what i was hearing in my head. so yeah, i could always help you, and i hardly know how to read sheet music myself, i can just tell you the chords and that."

i beamed. "that'd be great," i said.

he smiled at me, his hazel eyes seemed to gleam before he peered at his watch and said, "it's almost half five, we should probably get going." i nodded and he stood up and i followed in suit. we stepped outside and a cold breeze hit my face, causing me to shiver a little.

paul saw this and said, "you know, if i has brought my jacket i would've done the chivalrous thing and given it to you but as you can see i don't have mine."

"it's fine," i said, folding my arms across my chest in attempt to keep warmer.

"so what's with you and oscar?" paul asked out of the blue. i looked up at him but he faced the ground, watching his feet as we walked.

i raised a brow. "we're... well i don't know. why'd you ask?"

he shrugged. "i don't know. i guess it's just because you and him have been involved or whatever for a few months. you're not dating or anything?"

"we aren't dating no," i said, "what's it to you
then?"

he shook his head firmly. "it's nothing," he said. i looked at him and tried to conceal a small grin; a small part of me couldn't help but wonder why he asked.

we soon arrived back at my house and we both stopped before the footpath leading up towards it. "thank you for taking me out today," i said, placing a hand on his arm causing him to flinch. i pulled my hand away from his arm quickly, looking down and blushing slightly.

"it's no bother," he said, "sorry for being a douche before."

i smiled. "you are forgiven," i said.

he too began to smile. "so are you coming to the casbah thursday?"

"of course," i said.

"okay. well i'll see you then."

"see you then."