"Well, well, well..." John chuckled, taking us in. "I should have known."
George kicked off the blankets defiantly, an action that proved he was angry and still clothed on his bottom half. As he pulled on his shirt, he said, "I swear to God John if you tell-"
"Calm yourself, Georgie. I've got better things to do than tattle." John looked at me and smirked. He must have thought this was so perfect. He had caught in me in such an incriminating moment, even though I wasn't being unfaithful to Paul. Though, that was how he would see it. "Why, Elle, what happened to that good little girl I always knew? Now look what you've gone and done, bringing poor George down to your level?"
I was about to shout, but George growled, "Get out." The Beatle left, but not hurriedly; he was taking his time. George slammed the door shut behind him, which startled me.
"Don't mind him," He tried to explain, buttoning up his shirt. "He's an ass."
I didn't say anything. It was the start of a long day.
"Beatles! Look here!"
"Is it true that you're leaving for America soon!"
"Beatles!"
"BEATLES!"
The press followed them wherever they went by then, along with screaming fans. It had been awhile since I had been allowed to travel with them to their events, but I was going with Brian instead of the lads. The mood in the car was considerably calmer than I remember it being the other times I had ridden with him, which might have been due to the fact that got a full day of rest. He gave me the smallest of smiles when I caught his eye.
I was separated from the lads for an hour or so while they were prepped for an interview, and Brian spoke with his other assistants as I took notes. Though when the Beatles came out on their podium, George and Ringo were unusually quiet and Paul and John glared at each other. I could only imagine what had happened, and as if George had read my mind, he turned in my direction and shook his head, as if he was saying Nothing good.
Paul's POV
Earlier in our waiting room, while George and Ringo were using the loo, John kept peering up at me and chuckling. Every time I looked back at him, he'd gaze down at the newspaper he was reading. About the third time he did that, I said, "What's so funny?"
Resting his elbows on his knees, he said, "You're thinking about her, aren't you? Come on, mate. She's over you. She's not worth it anymore."
"John, I was...I mean, I am in love with her. I just can't stop. Why are you so concerned about my feelings towards Elle? It's not as if you fancy her. Unless," I jabbed, "you do."
He snorted. "Of course not. But the truth is, Paul, I would be better at loving her than you would." John crossed his legs, waiting for my retaliation.
"Are you joking?" I scoffed. "You shouldn't even be talking about Elle, John. Have you seen how much you've hurt her this past week? First you didn't tell me she was suicidal and she almost killed herself, and then you called her insane." For a moment, John winced, as if he was regretting it, but within the next second the look was gone.
"Have you seen yourself, Paul? You've got wandering eyes that impress even me. If I had a pound for every time you turned to me and muttered, 'That bird's got a nice ass', I wouldn't need to sing for a living." He jabbed.
My face contorted with an angry blush. I stood up, trying to give the image (and it was a childish one) that I was bigger, stronger than him. "I've never...well, only a few times. But it's not as if you haven't done worse! I love Elle, John, with every single part of me."
John chuckled. "Especially the part between your-"
"Shut," I growled, "up. I'd never use Elle like that. Unlike you. You've been unfaithful more times than I can't count, Lennon."
John stood up, but with a calm expression. Only a few inches from me, he said, in a low tone, "I don't think you should overestimate Elle's complete and total innocence, Paul." I must have looked confused, because he added, "How do you know she hasn't been as unfaithful as I have been?"
"She never hurt me like that." I tried to sound confident, but my voice quivered. I had given Elle so many reasons to completely ruin me. Why wouldn't she try?
John smirked. "She might not, and I could be completely wrong. But tell me this, Paul: why would she want the man who so obviously broke her heart, and you were the only one who didn't know about it?"
George and Ringo returned, and we were sent out onto the stage. I caught a glance of Elle from off to the side with Brian, and nearly broke down.
Elle's POV
The lads' moods seemed to worsen as the day wore on. John and Paul couldn't say one word without growling at each other. Ringo was incredibly sleepy and just wanted to take a nap, and George hadn't eaten anything all day so he was in a foul state of mind. When I offered them all tea they took it, but they drank it with sour expressions on their faces.
"Cheer up, boys," I tried to make them smile. "You'll be back at the hotel in a few hours or so to rest. It's a beautiful day and the sun is shining. That's something to be happy about."
A few of them mumbled in response. Their somber moods were still present. Hoping to cheer at least one of them up and cause a chain reaction, I bent down and kissed Paul's cheek, following by George and Ringo's. John rolled his eyes when I came to him, so I kissed two of my fingers and tapped his cheek.
"You best be getting back to work, John." I forced a false smile. He did the same.
The show that night seemed to come and go incredibly quickly. Soon, the lads were back in their dressing rooms changing and the theatre had emptied. Curious, I walked out onto the stage, just to see what it felt like. The lights were still on, but not as glaring, and I couldn't see anyone in the audience.
I knew this was not the theatre in which the story The Phantom of The Opera was set in, but I imagined it had to be just as beautiful. I had mentioned it to the lads before. It was one of my favorite stories. It was just so twisted and dark, but yet romantic.
As I stared out into the seats, arms quickly wrapped around my waist and a voice whispered in my ear, "What does the Phantom call Christine, his love? His angel of music?" George kissed my neck. "Sing for me, my angel."
"He's here," I sang spookily, "the Phantom of the Opera..."
George smiled, and kissed me. I pushed him away quickly. "Careful. We can't let people see us."
He pouted. "You're no fun."
"It's cold in here. You better get your coat. I'll wait." I said. He ran offstage to their dressing room. Out of curiousity on what I would sound like, I began to sing.
Think of me,
Think of me fondly,
When we've said goodbye,
Remember me once in awhile,
Please promise me,
You'll try.
As I sang, I tried to picture what it would be like with a crowd of people watching me. Would I be able to do that? I wasn't sure. Especially if the boys were watching.
Think of all the things we've shared and seen,
Don't think about the way things might have been.
I moved around the stage, as if I was adjusting to its feel. I looked to the left and right, praising an invisible audience. I sang as if no one could hear me.
There will never be a day when I won't think of you!
As soon as I finished the song, I stood there for a moment, listening to my voice echo in the hall. A clap rang out, and then mulitple did.
"And the bird sings." John smiled from the door to the dressing room.
I hopped off the stage, ignoring him as if he was nothing but a ghost. A phantom in the empty theatre.
"Elle?"
"Paul, I said no already."
"Come on. Let's do something. Just as friends."
"I'm tired. And you should be too."
I leaned back against the headboard of my bed. Paul pouted. "I'll do anything you want. I just want to spend some time with you." His hazel doe-eyes were as big and puppy-like as ever. He was excellent at making me feel guilty. I sighed and said, "Anything?"
"Yes." He smiled big.
"Fetch me the pencils in my bag, will you? I'm going to run some water in the sink. We're going to have a bit of girly fun."
The look on Paul's face made me gasp with laughter.
After rinsing his hair with water, I blindfolded him with a washrag so he couldn't see what I was doing. I led him over to my bed so he could listen to the television as I worked.
As I took a lock of his dark hair and twisted it around a pencil, he said, "Can you at least give me a hint?"
"It's a surprise."
"Please?"
"Trust me. You'll like it."
As soon as all of the pencils were wrapped in his damp hair I said, "It will be a few minutes. We have to wait for it to dry." I giggled when he turned in my direction, for he was still blindfolded. "Oh, Paul, you look so silly."
He smiled shyly. After a moment of silence he asked sheepishly, "Elle, if you could go on a perfect date, what would it be?"
Slowly, I pulled two pencils out of his now dry hair before answering. "It doesn't matter what we would do. As long as I'm with the right person."
"Well, if you were with the right person, what would you do?"
After thinking for a moment, I told him, "It would be something simple and sweet. Maybe a picnic in his apartment or room, or in a park. I'd want him to play me something on his guitar or piano. It would be nice."
"Elle?"
"Yes?"
"Will you go on a date with me?"
"Paul, I..." But I had taken the last pencil out of his hair. Quickly, I combed over a part of his dark locks and smoothed it out. "I'm finished." I slipped off his blindfold, and gave him my hand mirror. He gasped, but then began to laugh.
"Oh my...I look just like I did when I was younger." Though it was shorter than it had been before Paul cut his hair into a mop-top, it had that same curl.
I giggled. "Now you look even more girly."
"I am not girly."
"You're definitely the most feminine-looking of the lads."
Paul pouted, and crossed his legs. I pointed at his action. "See? That's girly."
He laughed. "Well, now that I have the new fancy hair I think I should get a new outfit. Perhaps a dress?"
"You could borrow one of mine."
"I've got the legs for it."
"You'd have to shave."
"Ugh." He rolled his eyes, as if shaving his legs was the most painful he could do to himself. "Well, I suppose I could."
I laughed. "Are you serious?"
"Hell no." We laughed for a minute longer, but his seemed strained. His tone quieted and he touched his head, playing with his hair when he said, "But I would like to go out on a date."
I sighed, stood up and straightened out my skirt. "Paul, you're the best friend a girl could have, but I feel like I'm just not ready for another relationship with you."
"But..." He pouted. "We barely had a first one."
I took his hands. "I know I sound absolutely horrible, but maybe it would be good if you took a break from me for awhile. Stopped thinking of me constantly, and stopped...trying." The look on his face was one of pure sadness and embarrassment. I hated having to say this to him, but it wasn't as if he could hold onto me forever. The love of his life was soon to come: Linda.
Though, Paul had no idea. He thought I was the only girl that mattered.
I suppose that I could have been if I wanted to. I could have said yes, yes I would love to marry you. Become Mrs. Paul McCartney.
But that wasn't my role.
"I can't just stop, Elle. Being in love is harder than you would believe," He said, letting go of my hands, picking up his coat and leaving.
What had I done?
Paul's POV
I couldn't fall asleep that night, though I was hopelessly tired. My mind was completely awake, and I was drowning myself in thoughts. I had to talk to Elle. She had to know how I felt, whether she wanted to hear it or not.
But I couldn't. She didn't want me to. She wanted to be friends.
I had to.
Punching my pillow to make it more comfortable, I hoped to sleep away these thoughts. Unfortunately, sleep avaded me. All I could imagine were Elle's sad blue eyes as she laid in her cold room, completely alone. Why did we have to isolate her?
What if she was hurting herself again? I wanted to believe that she wouldn't do such a thing, especially after the sincereness of her confession to me. She had to be happier, safer now, right?
There had to be a way to at least show her how I felt. I wouldn't have to change how she believed.
I had to try.
Hello!
This chapter was longer than I expected, but this is turning out to be a very long book. I was looking back on one of my older chapters, and it's twelve pages long! I'm so sorry to all of you who had read that. It's just too much.
Vote if you want to be George's 'Angel of Music'
OR you want to be the hairdresser of the 'Angel of Music' (Paul).
Or you don't have to vote. But it would make me smile :D
Peace,
Luna <3