Even though I must have felt him move there in my sleep, I startled when I woke in George's arms. Because of my mini-fright, he woke up too and began to speak before another voice hushed us. It was John, and he was pointing towards the sleeping Paul.
"You better get back to your original sleeping positions before he sees you." As George got up, he asked the guitarist, "Having fun there, Georgie?"
"Piss off." He whispered.
John rolled his eyes. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of Elle."
The singer went laid back on the floor, hiding underneath his blankets. George and I watched each other for a few minutes before I got up, blushing as I pulled down my nightgown, for it had been pushed up as I slept. John chuckled. Whether it was at me or something more entertaining, I didn't know.
After getting dressed and showered in the bathroom, I hurried down to the lobby and into the hotel's sundry shop. I bought a tiny packet of pain-relieving pills and tossed the bottle at John when I came back into the room. "You should take these for your headache."
Paul groaned loudly in his sleep because of the migraine he had. He was known for his timing when it came to noises.
The older singer crawled over to the sleeping bassist. "Come on, princess, wake up and take your pills. Paul..." John whined. Then he got an idea. He started messing with Paul's hair, and the action caused the younger Beatle to sit up and smack John. I could tell the blow hurt, and George immediately tensed, afraid John wouldn't react well.
But then John said, "I would get mad, but you're too cute." He pushed the pillows out from underneath Ringo and onto Paul's head, waking both of them up in the process.
John, Paul, George and I had to wait for Ringo to get ready, and even though it was only a few minutes, I felt a newfound tension that I thought had long since past. John kept watching George and me, and I felt so guilty. I told John that I didn't want a relationship with any of the lads, but let George hold me as I slept. To be fair, I didn't know it was him until the morning, but it still felt wrong.
Paul's eyes kept wandering over to me too. He looked tired, which was normally, because it was about 5:30 in the morning, but it looked like he hadn't slept in a long time and last night was his first full rest in a week. He gave me a small smile before looking down at the ground.
All of them seemed like they were waiting for someone to say something, but not just anything. Something important.
Did they want me to say something to the three of them? To settle everything once and for all?
When we arrived at the station and waited to board the train, John took me aside. It was hard to take him serious with his little disguise, but the tone of his voice was almost threatening. "I had to tell Paul. He's miserable."
"What do you mean?"
"I told him what George and you did last night."
My eyes widened. "We didn't do anything, John. He just came and laid next to me. Now he's going to think George and I...oh, John, why did you do that!"
John looked down at the ground. "I felt like he had the right to know. And he wasn't the only one who was hurt by this, Elle." The Beatle looked back up at me with sad eyes.
"I'm sorry..." I began, before he walked away.
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While in the train, John, George and Ringo left to find something to eat. Paul stayed with me. I knew what would happen as soon as he turned to talk.
"So you and George are together now? I should have known from your raunchy little dance in the theatre." he muttered bitterly.
I sat up. "We weren't dancing like that and we aren't together. I didn't ask him to come and lay by me; he did that himself."
Paul clenched his fist, his tone of voice raising. "Elle, you're so frustrating! You told me you weren't interested in a relationship, only to go fool around with one of my best mates..." He looked out the window at the landscape speeding by.
"I'm sorry, Paul, but it's not what you think-"
"Listen to me, Elle. Just this once, will you listen?"
"I don't want to be with any of you!" I shouted, stunning the both of us. Paul looked up at me, but then out at the window again. I felt sick to my stomach at the hurt expression on my face. The silence between us was deafening for a few minutes until Paul said, quietly, "When we get back to my house, you will pack your clothes. You're going to stay with Ringo tonight, so I can...sort things out."
And he left the car, leaving me alone.
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There are many things that the Beatles were told not to do in front of the press. Smoke or drink was one, along with talk about their personal lives too much, however that was the topic the press loved the most.
But there was one rule that was easily the most important to the lads.
And Paul broke that rule.
Even though John and I weren't on the best terms, he still helped me through the crowded train station, making sure I wouldn't get lost in the swarm of reporters. People must have found out that we had gone, and the press was waiting at the station for us.
John also broke another rule, but it wasn't as noticable as Paul's. Some of the reporters were getting too close, which made me start to panic. The older Beatle pushed one of the offending reporters out of our way, and a few people gasped. "Come on, Elle," John whispered in my ear, "just keep moving foward."
We caught up with the lads. People were shouting at the boys, tapping their shoulders for their attention. One question they asked Paul made me freeze.
"Are there any special girls out there for you?"
It was as though the queue held their breath for his answer. They were all waiting for the juicy details.
Paul looked back at me, and the crowd turned to look there too. He shook his head gently, and then turned back to the reporter. Without warning, he burst into tears. "I'm sorry...I'm...I'm so sorry..." He pushed his way through the crowd, with George and Ringo in tow.
"Paul!" I ran after him, avoiding the people who pestered me. John followed soon after.
Crying and showing true emotion in front of the press.
That was how Paul broke the rules.
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None of the lads were in a joyous mood all day. After their time in the studio, I went over to Paul's house to get some clothes. As soon as he shut the door, I said, "Paul, I-"
"Please, Elle, just get your things." he pleaded. I hurried to get my clothes and left as soon as I could, for I could tell Paul needed to be alone.
But before I left, I said, "I'm sorry." My voice broke horribly in just those words.
"Go!"
I ran down the stairs, tears filling my eyes. Ringo was waiting for me. I could barely speak when he reached out to hug me. "He's...he's so angry, Ritchie. I grabbed everything because I-I'm not sure if I'm going back. I-I feel so horrible and I know I should. I just want to make things b-better."
He led me back to his car, an arm wrapped around my shoulder. We immediately went home, for it had started to rain hard. There was a storm brewing, which excited everyone, for the weather in England was quite uneventful.
We made tea silently as the rain pounded on the roof of Ringo's apartment. He tapped his fingers on the coffee table as I sipped my drink. "Thanks, Ritchie. For having me...at such a late notice." I said quietly. He nodded.
After a few minutes, he got up and took my hands. Standing face to face with him I then noticed that I was either his exact height or a little bit taller. It was awfully cute.
"You," he poked my stomach, "are too sad. It's not healthy. So tonight we shall have fun. First, let's go to the kitchen. It's what George and I do with shots, but we're doing it with ice cream."
We filled up little shot glasses with scoops of vanilla ice cream, and we added every sweet thing we could find in each of them. Ringo and I played 'Never Have I', and if we had done what the other player described, we had to eat one of the incredibly sweet concoctions we made.
So once we were too sugar-high to sit still, we ran around the apartment playing silly games, dancing to his vinyls, and making so much noise that the neighbors called to complain.
Eventually Ritchie and I crashed on the couch, and he told me in a quiet tone, "He needs just a bit of time to cool down. It'll be alright. It's George that I'm concerned about."
"Me too." I sighed.
After another few minutes of silence, he said, a bit of humor in his voice, "So who is the lucky lad? Who is the chosen one, Elle?"
Though it was meant to be a joke, I turned over on my side, for I felt tears prick my eyes.
"No one."
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Hi!
So Let It Be still has a few chapters to go before it's finished, and then I will be writing another book called Someplace Else (A Beatles Story) with the help of my friend @LauraScott8.
But during that story or perhaps this one, I'll be publishing a short story about Paul. I'm not sure what it is called yet, however I hope it will be different than any other Beatles fanfiction, and possibly most other fanfictions in general.
Love,
Luna.