⇾ 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 | 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈

Chapter Forty-Four: I Still Hate Going Out (At Age Twenty-One)

"Of course not," I replied.

"What do you not like about yourself?" John had then asked, almost before I'd even finished responding to his last question, his grip on my waist still tight.

"Everything," was what I did not say. "Not exactly sure," I whispered. His face was inching closer to mine, so it didn't have to be too loud for him to hear.

A knock on the door downstairs had jerked us apart. John closed the distance between us with a hasty, meaningful kiss on my lips, and then turned to leave the room, tugging me along. I caught one more glance in the mirror before I was pulled downstairs to answer the door.

As expected, Paul was waiting on the doorstep. We had been able to see the ride waiting to take us to the Turks Head pub for a private party to celebrate the wrapping of the film.

Inside the car—which didn't really look too big from the outside—were the rest of the boys along with all of their girlfriends. They all said their hellos as John, Paul, and I seated ourselves.

From there, we all indulged in easy conversation. I had ended up sitting next to Jane, much to my delight.

At the party itself, a lot of alcohol had been consumed by crew and Beatles and actors alike. The evening was about enjoying yourself. That was definitely what had happened. It really wasn't my scene. I didn't like going out. I didn't like crowds. And I didn't like being seen in this bloody dress. I just wanted to be home. It felt like something was about to happen, something that wasn't good at all.

"Something wrong?" John asked me now, his words slurring together. Much like most everyone else, he was drunk. I'd had maybe one or two drinks. Not nearly as much as him, clearly. Things were finally calming down and it looked like I would finally get my wish.

I shook my head but didn't say anything. It wasn't a suspicious action in the slightest. Everyone and their grandmothers knew that I, Donna Epstein, did not like going out. The whole band teased me about it. Even Brian did sometimes. It was just normal.

John nodded in response, but I could tell that his attention was elsewhere. "We're heading out in about ten minutes," he told me. "That sound okay?"

"Yes," I answered quietly and he shuffled off towards a group of people that were now telling each other goodbye. I watched him as he walked away.

I'd made it this entire time without so much as a small panic attack. Quite frankly, I was proud.

About five minutes later, John finally stumbled back up to me. He hadn't drunk anything for the past hour, trying to pass all he'd had in the first two hours of us getting there so he could at least help me out of the place in case there were fans waiting. That was how it often went. He'd still be very drunk, obviously, but he'd have gathered his senses enough to see straight. It was one of the little things that I liked about him.

"Okay, love,"  he said to me, clearly fighting the alcohol in his system. "There is a bit of a crowd out there." My shoulders slumped and I felt the first prick of anxiety. I swallowed it. "But, it'll be okay. We've just got to get back to the car as quickly as possible. You can do that, can't you?"

I nodded, gulping nervously.

"Well, c'mon." He put his arm around me, pulling me close as we went around telling people goodnight. He stopped before we stepped outside to ask if I was okay again.

"Yes," I said. "Let's just get it over with, yeah?"

He nodded and tightened his grip on me, leading me through the door and into the chaos.

It wasn't a huge crowd, but just enough to make me feel uneasy. They were all screaming and it was already getting to me. The car looked like it was a hundred yards away. I zoned in on it to stay sane, but that only succeeded in making it stretch about a hundred yards more.

I don't know when I lost John. Something jerked us apart and I was left wandering around on my own. I managed to make it a few feet before the overwhelming sense of dread got the best of me. I felt someone tugging on my right arm. I turned, hoping it was John, but instead it was a fan.

I tried to pull out of their grip, I tried shouting at them, I tried to tune out whatever it was they were saying, I tried fading away, but I still heard them; clear as day.

"You don't deserve John," the girl hissed. "You don't want him for him. You want him for yourself."

It was too late now. She'd already gotten into my head. This girl I'd never seen in my life. She looked like she was older than me. Standing out and swarming four grown men. Now, that's pathetic.

She finally let go of me and I made a beeline for the car, not worrying about who I ran into in the process. It was a different car from before, this one being for only John and I. John was already inside when I finally made it, slamming the door behind me as hard as I possibly could. His brow glazed over in relief when he saw me but quickly changed to concern when a streetlight illuminated my face and he saw tears streaming down my cheeks. I didn't say anything. I just buckled my seatbelt and leaned against him.

I hated going out.