SEPTEMBER 12, 1959
The rhythmic clacking that had filled my bedroom made me want to dive head first out my window. Fucking hell, isn't there anything else I can use to type? A groan emitted from my throat. My elbow slipped off the edge of the table and my most feared fear came true. I made a typo.
"Fucking hell. Complete shit," I continued muttering profanities as I busted out the white out out of a broken drawer.
"Uh, I'm off to work. Stop by later?" Diana's voice sounded from behind me.
"If I can get this fuckin' shit finished, then yes."
"Right. Don't yell at the neighbors again. It wasn't very fun dealing with the cops last night."
"Oh, sod off!" I yelled after her while she walked down the stairs.
"Love ya too!"
The deadline was pushing me six feet under and throwing dirt on me. There's a contest for a local paper to write about the changing values of teenagers and mass media. Since this is the shite I like, I decided to enter an article and pray five times a day from there. The prize for the winner was a part time job at the newspaper. It seemed that working for minimum wage at a restaurant wasn't a good way to make money. It also seemed that applying for journalism and creative writing jobs didn't seem effective so far.
I laughed in delight as I removed the paper from the typewriter. I signed my name at the bottom of the second page and dramatically dotted my "i". I skipped in a circle before my feet brought me out of my bedroom door and down the stairs. I fell on my arse on the last step.
"Fuckin' hell," I whined, bringing myself up and unwrinkling the paper. I grabbed my shoes from underneath the bench that no one sits on, quickly putting them on. The rooms blurred as I ran towards the living room, shuffling in the drawers before finding an envelope and putting the paper inside. "Ten Hail Mary's and three praise Jesus's. Christ sake, I should've went to church more." I kissed the envelope before running out of the house, probably not locking the door.
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"'Ello love, fancy a tea?" I jumped at the fake British accent, swiveling around to see my favorite American, apart from James Dean.
"Fucks sake, Dee," I grumbled yet smiled at her. We gave each other a chaste hug before she had to go back behind the bar.
"You mail your article?" I nodded and hummed, but she probably couldn't hear me in the loud club. "Good job my little author."
"Wait until the day that Stella Cliff is a household name. The Nobel Peace Prize will be hanging in me loo."
"The loo? A little disrespectful, isn't it?"
"No. It'll remind me that even when I'm famous, I wipe my arse like every other boring little cookie-cutter family."
"Charming," she offered a cheeky smile my way. I sighed and spun a three-sixty on the stool.
"Johnny and the Buddy Holly Scousers playin' tonight?" I cracked my knuckles and tapped my foot to the music.
"Yah. Listen to this. Last week, John came up to me with George and asked for a beer with an order of knackers. I didn't know what the hell that was until George hit him, winked, and said 'cover up colonist'," she explained with a distraught look. I bit my lip and breathed out a laugh.
"The man just wanted the full American experience," I chuckled out. She glared at me.
"You're hilarious. Really." She slammed a cup in front of me.
"If ya want' survive in Liverpool get used to John ya snowflake."
"I guess you're right. People like John will be the death of me."
"Oh, honey. There is no other people like John Lennon," I smiled as I remembered my first crush coming over my house and dancing around with me and my brother. Him grabbing me by my hands and spinning me around the living room so fast my feet were off the floor. I remember him teaching me how to wrestle. My past is filled with sweet and sour John memories. But for some reason I can only remember most of the sour.
"Damn right!" An arm was slung across my shoulder roughly. "Stella darling, where oh where is that brother of your's?"
"Learning with the smart, dining with the posh, and living by himself." I removed John's arm from my shoulders and spun to face him.
"Ah," he dawned realization," the lad got into Oxford, did he?"
I nodded and eyed a shot the person next to me ordered. I snatched it and tilted me head back as the liquid burned my throat. I placed it back where it was before upside down. Why battle with mixed feelings of your brother when you can get knackered?
"Wow. That kinda turned me on," Paul seemingly joked, now standing next to John. The deja vu I was feeling was overwhelming. I shook my head and gave him a lazy smile.
"What do you lot have goin' on this evening?" John asked.
"Nothing, why?" I answered, looking behind me to make sure Diana was still listening. He's gonna ask us to go to his party.
"I'm having-"
"We'll go John." I flinched as Diana flicked my ear and made a sound of protest.
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The night went on and they played a few songs. We all laughed and told childhood stories. Paul stared at me the whole night. I'm not daft, I know that with one flick of his eyebrow he can make knickers drop. I never understood before, but holy hell I understand tonight.
The chatter, Little Richard's voice, and smoke filled Mimi's house. My best guess is that she wasn't home.
Diana sat uncomfortably to my left, receiving more attention than she wanted for being American. My snide remarks didn't seem to phase them at all and they kept asking bloody stupid questions.
Paul sat much too comfortable to my right, left arm on the couch behind my head, his thigh pressed against mine. His hazel eyes locked onto my face every time I said something or made a different facial expression.
George and John sat across from us, on the other side of the coffee table. Cynthia was cuddled up to John making George look like a third wheel. She was quite reserved but very kind and humorous. I cleared my throat and leaned forward a little bit.
"So Cynthia, how did you and John meet?" I smiled and she returned it.
"We were in the same art class. One day I felt a tap on my shoulder and I turned around to see John was a cheeky smile and he said 'Hi, I'm John'," she explained and I chuckled a bit with everyone else.
"What a line, John." I rolled my eyes playfully at him.
"I caught the fish, didn't I?" Everyone laughed.
Everyone I knew seemed to migrate to the kitchen with me. John walked in last, a boy with James Dean hair and sunglasses strolled in with him. I almost laughed at how superficial he looked.
"Fuck sake Stu, it's bloody night and you're inside," Paul laughed from next to me, 'accidentally' brushing my hand as he pulled a lighter from his pocket.
"Who're the birds?" Stu nodded his head towards me and Diana before taking his sunglasses off.
"Stella and Diana." John pointed to each of us. "Stu." He pointed to the James Dean impersonator.
"I must be fucked and going to heaven 'cause I thought James Dean walked in." I shook Stu's hand as he rolled his eyes before turning them into heart eyes.
"Funny."
"So you go to art school too?" Diana asked while shaking his hand.
"Yah, difference is I can actually draw."
"Oi!" John punched his friend in the shoulder.
Diana joined George in making fun of John, probably because she had some liquid courage. Paul and Stu took interest in talking about writing with me.
"I just sent in an article for the newspaper this morning," I informed, taking a swig of beer.
"Why haven't you applied to uni?" Stu asked, leaning against the fridge. Paul's arm slipped onto the kitchen counter nearly touching my ass. I fought the urge to lean my backside farther onto the counter.
"Flat broke. Me mum doesn't think her perfect little girl can make a living off it, so I have to pay myself." I cleared my throat to suppress a yelp when Paul hand moved and his thumb side of his hand was touching my backside.
"Bullocks. I'm sure one day you'll show up at her door to tell her 'I told ya so'." I smiled at Paul's statement, it was either him or the alcohol that was easing my doubts. "Fancy goin' for a ciggy?" I nodded and he followed me out the front door. I didn't realize till we were out there that we ditched Stu.
His eyes shamelessly looked me up and down before they locked onto my eyes.
"If ya keep smoking like that one of you is gonna get cancer." I crossed my arms and wore a blank expression. He shrugged and smiled before bringing it to his lips again.
"I could never read you when we met," he blurted. I rose my eyebrows and showed a lopsided grin.
"I can't say the same for you. Although I can never tell what your about to say." I leaned on the wall so I was facing him, we were probably only a few centimeters away from each other.
"How did you read me when we met?"
"A teddy boy tryin' to find a shag."
"Hate to tell ya, Stel-bell, but you read me wrong. I was tryin' to woo you first." He blew smoke into my face. I coughed and rolled my eyes. "I wish I could've read you. All I was getting was a girl who had her walls built up and would occasionally peek out from inside them."
"Do you always talk like a poet?" I breathed out. I mentally smacked myself for sounding so taken away by him.
"Only for the right people."
"I'm the right people?" It was an odd question but I wanted to know how he'd answer.
"You make me think that there's only a right person." My heart was jumping and I started to play with my fingers from nervousness. He was so close by now I could feel his smiley breath tickling my nose.
"Was that a pick up line?"
"Depends, did it work?" I smiled and looked into his eyes that seemed a deep brown in the moonlight. He rose an eyebrow and he had me in a puddle. I nodded, both of us flicking our eyes from the other' slips back up to each others eyes.
He threw the cigarette onto the wet grass. His head dipped down and his lips crashed onto mine. His hands grabbed my hips and pulled me against him and my hands went around his neck, my fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. I stood on my toes and pressed myself against him. Our lips moved together slowly and I could taste the smoke and beer with a tiny hint of mint. His hands gripped my hips tighter before moving up until his right hand gripped my waist and his left hand was dangerously close to my boob. He walked my backwards until my back hit the wall, the backs of my calfs probably getting scrapped on the bricks. My lips turned hungry and eager as I pulled his head closer to mine. His lips matched my pace and his tongue found its way into my mouth.
The voice is the back of my head told me he probably did the same thing to someone else yesterday.
I was his next target and he shot a bullseye.
I couldn't bring myself to be the one to stop. Paul McCartney really fucking knew how to kiss someone's brain out.
"Christ sake Macca." John's voice broke us away and Paul's arms loosened a bit, but we didn't jump away from each other.
"Hi there John," Paul spoke up. I fought the urge to laugh. I shimmied away from Paul and my hand played with my swollen bottom lip. John's eyes flickered from me to Paul.
"Ya better fuckin' pray that Syrus doesn't find out." John walked back inside with Paul trailing behind him. Paul paused before walking through the door.
"Night, love." He winked before disappearing into the house.
I sighed and closed my eyes.
"Fuck me."
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I'm gonna try to update regularly from now on. I'll probably forget. But they have a movie called Nowhere Boy on Netflix and I highly recommend it.