I see Paul's car pull up from the window. I snap a picture quickly and then run downstairs as fast as I can, so it looks like I've been in the living the entire time. It's not like that matters, though, since he's going to find out eventually that I've moved myself in.
I jump on the couch right as Paul opens the door. He sees me on the couch and looks a bit surprised. "Hello lovely," he says.
"You look surprised to see me," I say.
"I didn't think you'd actually stay here. I'd figure youd get yourself into some sort of trouble."
"Wow. Such high expectations."
"Well, what can I say?"
"How was the studio?"
"It was good. Everything went well. Bonnie was there. She was looking for you."
Paul narrows his eyes. "You're so cheeky."
"What can I say?" I ask, quoting Paul from a few seconds ago.
"Well, I say it's time for dinner."
I nod. "Ok."
"Have you ever thought of being a vegetarian?" I ask Paul.
"I don't know. Why?"
"I'm just wondering. I've always thought it'd be interesting. Healthier too."
"That's true. But it'd be harder to find meals to eat while we're on tour."
"Oh yeah. Who knows, though? Maybe we'll be vegetarians one day."
"You never know." Paul looks off into space for a moment and then puts down his fork and stands up. He walks into the next room and then returns with his guitar. He starts to strum away, playing different chords. He obviously has an idea working in his head.
I continue to eat, but I watch his fingers intently. He seems to be lost inside his own thoughts, unaware of anything around him. Nothing matters except for his guitar and the tune playing inside his head. The chords, though they don't make sense played together yet, sound beautiful.
Suddenly, however, Paul plays a chord full of dissonance. "That's not working," he mutters.
"I thought it sounded beautiful," I say, offering my own advice.
Paul looks up and looks at me almost as if he has forgotten I am here. He smiles. He starts to pick familiar notes on his guitar and I immediately recognize the song. Except it has never sounded quite like this. Could this possibly have more feeling behind it?
"I give her all my love. That''s all I do. And if you saw my love, you''d love her too. I love her. She gives me ev'rything, and tenderly. The kiss my lover brings she brings to me. And I love her." He winks at me. "A love like our's, could never die. As long as I have you near me. Bright are the stars that shine, dark is the sky. I know this love of mine, will never die. And I love her." He plays the last few chords and then leans his guitar on to the wall behind him.
"That was beautiful too," I say.
"Thank you. I was singing it to a beautiful girl." Paul places his hand on mine, which is resting on the table.
I bow my head a bit and smile. "You know what I realized last night, Paul?"
I take a deep breath. "I want to only be with you, Paul. I want to be your girlfriend. No more John and no more George--well, only as friends, of course. But all this time you're the one that has stuck by me. You're the only one that has continued to give me that nervous feeling that means you like someone. And all those times we were fighting... all I could think about was you. You were the first Beatle I met and you were the first Beatle to kiss me and I've just never felt this way before." All of this comes tumbling out of my mouth at one time. I look at the floor and then I look up at Paul's face. He seems speechless for a moment, but soon recovers.
"Are you sure?"
This is not quite the reaction I was expecting. "What? Of course, I'm sure."
"I'm just making sure that you're sure. I don't want to get into things and you just change your mind."
"I'm certain. And to be honest, I think I've been certain for a long time, but I was afraid."
"Don't be afraid."
"I'm trying not to be."
Paul moves his hand that he was resting on my hand. He pulls my hand to his lips and gently kisses it.
I smile and I'm comforted by the thought that I'm with Paul and no one else.
"You've loved me all along haven't you?"
"Now, I wouldn't quite say that..."
"Hey!" The two of us laugh and Paul pulls me from my seat with my hand that he's still holding. Paul stands up as well and starts to hum a tune I don't know. It could possibly be an old 1940s song. Whatever it is, it sounds beautiful sung by Paul. The two of us sway together. Paul stops humming and now it's silent. We continue to sway back and forth, though. I love the feeling of his hand placed firmly on my waist and the feeling of his other hand on my back, pulling me closer to him. What was I thinking all those times I was mad at Paul? Maybe all those fights were for a reason and ultimately brought us closer together. It's silly for me to be thinking all of this. I've only known him and the rest of the Beatles for about a month now. How can I have feelings like this for someone I've known for such a short time? It scares me and excites me all that same time. I press my body closer to Paul's.
"Oh yeah, Paul," I say, breaking the silence. "I moved my stuff into your guest bedroom."
Paul doesn't say anything for a second, speechless again. As usual, though, he comes up with a witty response. "The guest bedroom? Why not my bedroom?"
"Look at this," I say, walking into Paul's room, carrying my camera. I've changed into a night gown. It's nice to finally wear appropriate sleepwear in Paul's house. It's also nice to feel like I have a home.
"What's that?" Paul asks. He's sitting on the end of his bed, shirt off and pants unzipped.
"The camera John gave me for my birthday."
"Ahh. So you weren't in the living the whole time I was at the studio, were you?"
"Oh, good grief Paul. What did you expect?"
"Not much. But I thought you had exceeded my expectations."
"Well, it was nice to think you did for a couple of hours."
"I think that's the only couple of hours that will ever happen."
"Oh, thanks for the warning."
"No problem." I sit down next to Paul on the end of the bed, showing him the camera.
He takes the camera from my hands, examining it. He puts his eye to the camera and turns toward me. "Say cheese!"
"Oh, Paul, don't." I put my hand to my face, blocking anything the camera could get a picture of.
"Put your hands down," Paul says. He pulls at my hands with his free hand.
I groan. "Fine." I put my hands down and stare into the camera, neither smiling nor frowning. It's a blank stare and I hope I never have to see the picture that Paul is about to take. There's a flash.
"Now that didn't hurt, did it?"
"Oh, it did. It was very painful."
"Your sarcasm isn't appreciated."
I roll my eyes. "Let me take your picture," I say. I take the camera from Paul and he smiles sweetly. It's a smile that doesn't show any teeth, but is warm in the eyes. I take the picture of Paul and I'm so happy to have it documented forever.
Paul takes the camera from my hands again. He places it on the nightstand next to the bed. He slips his pants off finally and sits next to me on the bed again.
"I'm glad you decided to stay here with me." He brushes my face with his hand. "I don't think I can believe that you shared your feelings with me."
"What do you mean?" I ask. I lean closer to Paul.
"I guess I've been trying all this time to pursue you, to make you like me, and now you finally do. It's hard to wrap my mind around it."
"Well, you better believe it."
"Or I'll get fed up and move my things into John's house."
"Oh, please don't say that."
I laugh and kiss Paul on the lips. I feel butterflies in my stomach--the same feeling I've felt this whole time. Why didn't I listen to it before?