Wildfire ~ George Harrison

Chapter 6: You're who?

It was strange how quick you got used to your new neighbours. Two weeks they had lived on Green Street, before all of them went on holidays and suddenly it was quiet. I hadn't even noticed how much noise they actually made, because they didn't make any noise. But now that they were gone, it was the absence of the sounds they did make, that was the loudest. Before I realised what I was doing, I was counting down the days until they were back.

John was the first to return, but he didn't want much to do with me and Kathleen. He did introduce us to his wife, a beautiful, young girl he intended to move in with as soon as possible. Ringo and Paul came a day later and they spent the evening drinking white wine and making us jealous with stories of white beaches and warm summer nights in Greece. It seemed more than a bit unfair.

It wasn't until the day after they came back, that I finally heard something from George. I was leaving through the post as I came home from work, telling myself that I shouldn't expect a letter from him. I had told myself the same thing over and over again these past two weeks and somehow, I realised I was still looking for it. To my complete surprise, I actually found one that Thursday. I discarded the rest of the mail in my haste to read his letter.

Thursday, 3 October '63

My dearest Charlotte,

I've come back full of stories about the beautiful States of America. I landed this morning and knocked on your door, but of course you were at work. I have to go to work now too.

I don't have much time tonight, but tomorrow after 7, I will knock on your door and I will tell you all about my travels. We can get something to eat? I'm not taking a no.

Keep smiling your beautiful smile and I'll see you tomorrow.

With love and best wishes,

George.

Oh.

So, he was finally home and I still didn't get to see him today? I was disappointed. It was so unlike me to be hung up on anyone, let alone a guy I had known for two weeks. But there was something different about George. I was hung up on him. And those finally twenty-four hours of waiting on him, when I knew that he was home, even sleeping on the other side of the hallway, those hours were the hardest.

When that knock on my door at seven came, it took everything I had to not fling the door open. I still did.

He didn't look much different than two weeks ago, unlike his flatmates, who had all come back incredibly tan. The only striking difference this George had to the George of two weeks ago was that he looked somewhat rested. Because that had been a striking thing of the George I had come to known; he always looked very tired.

'Hello,' he said as he leaned nonchalantly against the doorframe in a way that would've given James Dean a run for his money. 'Missed me?' He cocked an eyebrow, showing me he was as confident as ever.

'Hi,' I let out, much more elated than I actually wanted to let on. And then I smiled and admitted, 'yes, I did.'

'Good, because I missed you too,' he said and then he pulled me in for a hug, one that I had been craving since the last time he gave me one. There was something about the way his arms held me close to his body that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

'Shall we go?' I asked after he released me. 'I'm starving, which is great as I was promised something to eat by a certain somebody.'

'We're you now? I guess I'll have to take you out then,' he chuckled. It was a sound so beautiful and warm that it made something flutter inside of my stomach. 'You ready?'