February 9, 1962
I knew I hadn't got the boys back quickly enough for Brian's liking when I saw his expression upon my arrival. I sighed, having really thought I'd done good this time.
"Traffic," I muttered, tossing my keys blankly onto a desk and falling back in a plush chair. The other four shuffled in awkwardly after me, John placing himself on the floor at my feet, resting his head back on my knees.
I saw Brian look at him disapprovingly. It seemed that John and I's relationship was strained in the midst of the fame the boys had gained recently. We weren't allowed to act like a couple out in public. We tried to keep it private, only half because we wanted to, the other half being because Brian did. Ringo and his new girlfriend, Maureen, kept themselves private. Paul and his girlfriend, Jane, were the only ones out about their relationship.
It wasn't easy. We hadn't been on a proper date in what felt like forever. It was slightly frustrating. It wasn't going to last forever we knew. Eventually some photographer was going to be wandering around and find us. Then, the whole world would know within the next twenty-four hours. It was clear now that we both wanted that to happen soon just so it would be over with.
"Stop worrying, Eppy," John said with a sigh, not even having to open his eyes to feel his glare. "No one's gonna see us in here."
He didn't respond to the comment, no one did, instead he chose to brush it off and begin discussing the rest of the night. John closed his eyes as he listened and I began to stroke his hair lightly. He looked utterly exhausted.
In other news, Brian finally decided that he could trust John and I with our own room halfway through their UK tour the previous year. We didn't say anything to interject. Nightly, John would confide in me with all of his worries and I'd confide in him with mine. We were both stressed, perhaps for different reason, but stressed nonetheless, and we found our only break and comfort in each other. That was what was so good about being with him: the comfort I always knew I had.
"Anyways," said Brian suddenly and I was jerked out of my trance. "We'll go eat, yeah? Then we'll come back here and finish getting ready. Afterwards, you're being driven to the theatre where the show will be." He paused, trying to decide if he'd missed anything. When deciding he hadn't, he clapped his hands. "This is it, boys. America is waiting." He pointed to his watch teasingly, a smile rising on his lips.
John sat up, smiling joyfully, as if his two minutes of closed eyes had been a five hour nap. "Where are we going, boys?" he asked again demandingly.
"To the toppermost of the American poppermost!" yelled Paul before anyone could reply, reaching for his suit jacket. "Let's go eat, lads!"
The other three hollered in approval. Brian and I followed them quickly as they bounded out of the hotel room and down the hall, being too loud for anyone we met along the way.
Luckily, the four could get from place to place without being too swarmed for the time being. That would change very soon, we'd come to find out.
~~~
There was a loud bang on our door. I was in the bathroom, trying to slip into my dress as quick as I could.
"Get your bloody trousers on and get your arses out here!" we heard Paul shout in towards us.
"Yeah, okay!" John shouted back irritatedly and then giving a quick rap on the bathroom door. I finished buttoning you my dress just as he lightly asked, "you ready, love?"
On the other side of the door, his shirt was only half-buttoned, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. After the door opened, his eyes roamed me for a long moment, his mouth slightly ajar.
"Bloody fuckin' hell," he said, seeming to be mesmerized. "I hope this show doesn't take too long."
I swatted him on the chest lightly, reaching up to finish buttoning his shirt for him and securing his tie into place.
"I would much rather you be taking this off of me," he said, bouncing on his heels slightly.
"John, you wretch!" I scolded.
"I'm sorry! You're just awfully gorgeous," he said to me, disregarding my work entirely. "It's not fair." He grinned lopsidedly. "You can't tease me like that and not expect me to act."
I rolled my eyes as I wrapped my jacket around my shoulders and picked up my backpack. "Forgive me, dear. I just thought you could control yourself."
He blushed. "You thought wrong."
We made our way into Brian's room and were met by what felt like a hundred stares. John shifted uncomfortably behind me, folding his hands in front of him.
"Let's go, boys. We're late," said Ringo to break the silence.
"Donna, you're with me," said Brian, giving me a smile. I nodded and fell back a step to walk alongside him. "Should anything happen that puts you over edge—."
I cut him off with my hand, not even wanting to consider the possibility. I already knew the whole talk. Leave and take some time to calm down. It'll all be okay. It was practically gospel at this point he'd said it so many times. "I know exactly what to do," I assured him.
You'd think with all the traveling and being in the public eye I'd been experiencing the past year that perhaps my anxiety had slowly diminished, or I'd just gotten used to everything. Unfortunately that just didn't seem to be the case. Every plane we got off nearly sent me over the edge. The screaming at the concerts was almost unbearable. I felt like such a baby when I had to camp out in the bathroom because of it.
Brian nodded. "Let's hurry!" he called up to the boys. "We can't be late!"
"Alrighty, Eppy!" called John, stopping abruptly in the hallway and waiting to fall into step with us, taking my hand swiftly in his.