Sorry I'm late! I was driving when my alarm went off and couldn't do anything about it
😭😂
April 10, 1964
John's POV
"It's been a hard day's night / And I've been working like a dog. / It's been a hard day's night / I should be sleeping like a log. / But when I get home to you / I find the things that you do / Will make me feel alright." I looked up at Donna, who was working away in the kitchen. She was looking at me curiously.
"That sound alright?" I asked her.
She nodded and returned to what she was doing.
The silent treatment. Two can play at that game, Donna.
I returned to what I was doing. "You know I work all day to get you money to buy you things / And it's worth it just to hear you say you're gonna give me everything." I looked back up at her. Her eyes flicked down. "So why on earth should I moan / 'Cause when I get you alone / You know I feel okay." That's when Paul's part would come in.
"John?" Donna asked and I looked up, studying her imploringly. She frowned. "I see what you're doing," she said with a little eye roll.
"Enlighten me," I said.
"Dinner's ready," she told me with a sigh, carrying two plates into the room. We had some couches coming in within the next few days, so all we had to sit on now were some pillows.
I sat my guitar aside as she handed me one of the plates and sat the other on the ground, going back into the kitchen to get two Cokes out of the fridge. She planted herself back on the floor in front of me, handing one of the drinks over.
"You can't possibly still be mad at me," I said to her.
She shook her head. "I'm not mad. I never was. You're the one that started yelling."
I knew that was coming. "You were clearly mad and it made me upset," I muttered.
"Correction," she retorted. "I was frustrated. There's a very fine line between anger and frustration."
"I'm pretty sure they're the same thing," I muttered stubbornly, picking at my food.
"Would you like to get a dictionary and find out?"
I shook my head, knowing she'd won. She always did. "C'mon, love, think a moment," I said. "You really shouldn't be mad."
"I'm not mad," she said coolly. "I just said that." She didn't look up. It looked like she was grinning.
I decided to take a different route. "You know," I said, smiling mischievously. "You look...how do I put this?" She looked up and I saw I was right. She was grinning right back at me. "You look very, very, very hot?"
She raised her eyebrows imploringly. "Yeah?"
"I don't really think that says it all," I said teasingly. "Can't find a word good enough." She let me lean in closer.
Then, she took her fork and pushed some of her salad into my mouth. "Eat your dinner, darling," she said with a smirk.
I leaned back, choking on the food. "Well played," I commented. "But, I'm not done. Better eat quickly."
April 11, 1964
"What time are you going out with Bri?" Donna asked me. She was standing in the kitchen, making us some pancakes. I was sitting on a stool at the island. She had a robe over her flannel pajamas. First thing in the morning, she was still as beautiful as ever.
"Seven," I responded, balancing my head on my hand and gazing at her as she flipped the pancakes.
"Take a picture, it'll last longer," she quipped, bringing me out of my trance.
"Hm?" I asked, not quite hearing her right at first.
She laughed, a sound like that of wind chimes jingling on a breezy spring day...
"John!" I jumped. She laughed again. "Breakfast is served." The large curtains were drawn, covering the wall of glass that overlooked our backyard. With the way the sun was hitting, you could see the shadows of the workers that had come to add the last things we'd wanted in—the pool and the patio. They'd estimated a few weeks until it was done.
Since we'd only been here two days, the press hadn't found out that we'd moved, so no fans had shown up yet. I suspected when it was out that we no longer lived in the same building as the others, someone was going to figure out where we'd gone. Right now, though, we were just enjoying the peace and quiet, and rightfully so.
I stood up from my seat at the counter and went to get myself some of the pancakes. She was facing away from me. She'd left the bag of flour open after she'd used it and I smirked to myself before dipping my finger down into it.
"Hey, love?" I asked, trying to sound like I needed help. She turned around and I tapped her on the nose with my finger, leaving a bit of the powder behind.
She frowned and went to wipe it away. "You're mean," she grumbled jokingly.
"But you love it," I reminded her.
She nodded briefly. "Yes, I guess I do."
She took her plate and sat down on the stool next to the one I had been sitting on previously.
A moment later, I joined her. "You're awfully beautiful," I said dopily.
She looked up at me and blushed. "Are you sure about that?"
I nodded. "More sure of anything in my life." That was true. She blushed even harder. Finally, I turned to my food and began to eat. "This is very good, love," I commented. "Master chef much?"
She shook her head with a laugh. "Nothing of the sort."
"You're the master chef in my heart," I said.
"Just because I made pancakes?" she laughed.
"Yes," I replied. "They're the best bloody pancakes I've ever tasted."
She kissed me on the cheek and I felt bashful butterflies in my stomach. She'd turned me into something I'd never see myself like before. "I looove you," she said.
"I looove you too," I responded.