"A few more shots, lads. Then we'll go to the next set." The director said, before the photographer snapped a few more pictures of the posed Beatles.
When he was done, they lost their smiling faces and relaxed their hunched shoulders. Paul was probably the most posable out of the four, and he leaned against the wall they were standing by, quite tired. I felt bad for keeping him up so late the night before.
"Are you alright, love?" I asked. He smiled.
"Never better, babe."
I glared at him. He rolled his eyes and sighed like it was the most annoyed moment of his life. "Sorry, darling."
But he took on a more serious look, and said, "How's well...you know..." He pointed to his head.
I looked down at the ground, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Um, well...it hasn't happened again. I would have told you."
Turning my back to him, I was about to walk back towards Brian, but he told my hand. I tried to avoid his eyes, but that's all he wanted me to do.
"I didn't mean to upset you, Elle. Please don't-"
"Paul, it's alright. I"m fine." I turned away from him again, but he grabbed my arms and pulled me back to him. Clutching me in his arms, he kissed my cheek and said, "You aren't getting away from me that easily."
He kissed me again, and I said, in a low voice, "Paul, we're in public."
"So?"
"Aye!" John scolded, "Get a room!"
Paul just rolled his eyes. "You just wish you had a girl, Lennon."
I thought about last night. John had obviously left out the detail of our little dance last night. He had kissed my cheek, just like Paul was doing then. But John just gave me a sad look, and turned back to talk to Ringo.
Why did he look at me like that?
"Here," Paul said, taking my hand and pulling me along, "come with me."
Paul lead me to another part of the street, behind a building. The street was sectioned off by the police to prevent fans from mobbing the band. And he was taking me to a place where no one could see us.
Leaning up against the wall, he said, "You can come a little closer."
"A little more."
He signaled Closer with his finger. I obliged, and he smirked, pulling me into him.
Kissing him, my face grew warm with a blush. I could feel him smile. I ran my hands through his hair as he deepened the kiss. When I pulled away, my teeth grazed his lip, and he moaned softly.
"Say my name," He whispered into my lips.
"Paul," I said, kissing him. "Paul McCartney." My voice rose a few octaves at the end of his name, because his hands wandered down to my bum. I could tell he was smiling again, happy that he could get this type of reaction out of me.
"Hey! I didn't realize that this was the honeymoon suite!" John shouted. I pulled away from him as he leaned against the wall. His hair was messed up and he had someone of my lip balm on his mouth. He looked at the ground like a guilty little boy.
Brian was there too. He was probably beginning to think that this was all I ever did with Paul.
The younger Beatle tried his best to stutter out an answer. "I, um...we were just, um..."
"Playing tonsil-hockey?" John suggested. Paul glared.
"McCartney, a word? Elle, you head back with John."
Is there anything more excruciating than walking with the boy who kissed you the night before and also witnessed you snogging another boy? John certainly wasn't trying to make it any less awkward.
"Is that all you ever do?" He asked, as if he was reading my mind earlier. "Whenever we leave the room, you two just start going at it?"
"Oh, shut it, Lennon."
He raised an eyebrow. "No need to get all bitchy about it."
"Well, I'm always a bit of a bitch. And you're always an asshole."
Paul and Brian were walking back, and I caught a bit of their conversation.
"-a distraction. Is there any way you could-"
"-the only one she's got. I can't leave her."
"Find a way."
I swallowed, knowing exactly what they were talking about. It's true; I was a distraction. I wasn't supposed to be here in the first place. Would it be better if I just left?
Where would I go? Just anywhere?
I didn't belong anywhere anymore.
"Paul?"
"Yes, love?" He kissed my bare shoulder when I was reading in the chair.
"You know that you don't always have to be here for me, right? I'm technically seventeen now. I could get a real job, and maybe go out on my own-"
"What makes you think I don't want you here?" He leaned against the chair, brown eyes glimmering with questions.
I set down his book. "I'm a distraction."
Paul sat down on the arm. "You're not a distraction, love. You're my girl."
Standing up and brushing some lint off my jeans, I said, "You're just saying that so I don't feel bad. Most girls my age live out on their own now, Paul."
"But I don't want you to go."
"Some girls are even married."
"Marry me, love." He said.
I laughed, only to see the serious look on his face. My eyes widened.
"You've got to be joking. I hardly know you. I'm surprised I even let you lie next to me." I said, turning back towards him. The young Beatle looked confused.
"I know you."
"...What's my favorite color?" I inquired. He looked down at the ground in defeat. "See? I told you. I probably know you more than you do me."
Paul smirked. "What's my brother's name?"
"Mike."
"Damn it." He muttered, but then added, "Sorry."
As much as I would have loved to be called Mrs. Paul McCartney, that was crossing the line. I knew I had feelings that more than friendly towards him, but I was already tearing holes in the fabric of time by being here with him tonight.
I was setting his book back on its shelf when he said, "Would you really leave, Elle?"
I looked down at the ground. "Of course not. I haven't any other place to go."
"But if you did?" He relaxed on the chair, resting his chin on his arms. He looked awfully young.
"Come off it, Paul. I was only bluffing."
"That wasn't the answer I was thinking of."
Sitting down on the sofa, I said, "It's no secret that I don't belong here. I'm sure everyone knows it now. It's because I'm different. I cause trouble, but I don't mean to."
Paul took my hand, and rubbed his fingers against the palm of my hand. It was something he had come to do when he wasn't sure if I wanted to be kissed, but it was also an action of reassurement. It was awfully sweet. He must have known I had liked it, even though it was hard for me to trust men such as himself.
Maybe he did know more about me than I gave him credit for.
After kissing my hand, he said, "You're not different; you're special. I didn't mean to upset you. But I just can't stand the thought of another boy holding your hand." Then he kissed my cheek.
The same place John kissed the night before.
Maybe it was best he didn't know everything about me.
Paul's POV
"No," she muttered. "No, please...no!" I heard something hit the ground. I got up, flicked on the light and ran to the other side of the bed.
"Elle! Love, are you alright?" I took her hand, but she shoved me away. She was shaking so badly, and moved frantically, like a cornered wild animal.
"Please! Leave me alone!" Elle cried, fighting against me.
"Elle, it's me!"
"I swear I didn't run away!" Her eyes went wide, and she lunged for me, pushing me down. "You killed her! Murderer! Murderer!"
I was frightened then. Where was the sweet girl I knew?
Afraid to upset her more, I looked her in the eyes and whispered, "I don't know if you can hear me. But it's me, Elle. I'm not going to hurt you. Come back."
Her breathing slowed, and when she realized where she was, she stumbled off of me, crying. Her whole body shook with sobs. I gently put my arms around her. There was nothing more painful than seeing her cry. She couldn't help these spells. It was her mind, and her paranoia.
Elle was afraid that her father would kill her mother if she wasn't there to protect her. He would beat her instead.
How could she have lived like that?
"Did...did I hurt you?" she asked, fear in her eyes.
"No, no. I'm fine, love. It's alright."
"He's going to kill her, Paul. Why couldn't she be hear instead of me? She never did anything wrong."
"You never did anything wrong either." I rubbed her back, because I knew she loved it. "I'm sure she's safe. And so are you. It's just your mind. I won't let time take you if you don't want it to."
Even though she was back, she still seemed daze.
"I remember the first time," Elle whispered, as if she was a little girl telling me a secret, "I came back from school and he was at home, drunk and dazed. My aunt was there. Mom wasn't home yet. There was a vase of roses on the table."
I listened, afraid to interrupt her. She was still shaking.
"Grades had just come in. I had missed a few assignments. He had gotten laid off at work that day. He was upset. He was looking for someone to take it out on." She sniffled, shivering. "I walked in and set my bag down on the table, kissed my aunt's cheek. 'What a sweetheart', she said. 'What a good girl.'"
"Dad asked me why I was missing work. I told him it was because I was sick, or I didn't understand it. He said it wasn't an excuse. That I would never grow up to be like him if I worked like that. I told him I wanted to be like Mom instead. He slapped me across the face, right in front of my aunt." Elle began crying again. I didn't know what to say.
"I ran upstairs and hid in the space between my bed and the wall. It was the only place I knew my dad wouldn't reach me. There was so much shouting, and my mom wouldn't let him see me that night. When I came downstairs, the vase full of roses was gone."
"I was nine," she sobbed. "Only nine."
She cried into my shoulder. "I don't want to go home, Paul. I just want my mom here."
I was trying not to cry. I couldn't believe what she had said. What excuse for a man berates his daughter in front of family? And at the age of nine?
"I can't bring you your mom, love, and I wish I could. But you're safe here. We all love you. I can take care of you." I was going to let go of her so I could look her in the eyes, but she pulled me back and whimpered, "Please don't let go."
After a few more minutes of holding her, I whispered, "I wrote more of that song you like. The one I played for you in London?" I sang for her, hoping it would calm her down.
A love like ours, could never die,
As long as I have you near me,
Bright are the stars that shine,
Dark is the sky,
I know this love of mine will never die,
And I love her.
She smiled, and I brushed a tear from her cheek. "Please don't cry anymore."
Elle was so close that the tips of our noses touched. She smelled faintly of strawberries. She kissed me, and I savored the bliss.
There was something different about that kiss than any other. There was something that she wasn't telling me, but I didn't bother asking her why. She knew so many things, especially things I probably wouldn't have wanted to know.
If I had died the next day, I was glad I was able to make her smile one last time.