"You’re leaving Now?" Paul exclaimed, "You were suppose to stay until June"
"I’ve got to sign things" she shrugged
"Why does Cyn get to go’" George whined, prodding her with his half-empty scotch glass.
"Because"
"Don’t you go doing crazy Gabby-things when yer in capitol city now my dear Cyn" John instructed his girlfriend. He draped an arm around her shoulders and smacked a sloppy kiss against her cheek. Cynthia giggled and blushed, not used to the public displays of affection.
The night ended with Paul half dragging half carrying his brother home around five in the morning. Cynthia and John went to her house to Shag at about Two and the others scattered near four. Gabrielle awoke on the Harrison’s kitchen table the next day, feeling decidedly hung over and sick.
Several days later life was taking another unexpected turn as she found herself crammed in the back of Neil’s mini-bus on the way to the ferry.
Being the smallest member of the entourage she was voted to sit in the lap of Paul. While George, being the second smallest was crammed between the gearshift, Neil, and his older brother.
Sitting in Paul’s lap was a mixed blessing, Gabrielle decided. It had been uncomfortable at first as he draped his arms around her much like George had when she sat on him a few days before. Only now it was Paul. Blushing, severe giggling, or hormone impaired judgment would be a dead give-a-way.
She settled for leaning her head against his chest and feigning sleep. Shutting her eyes she tried not to think about those silly Beatles. Maybe she would fall asleep. That familiar feeling of fatigue washed over her so she hovered in a limbo where she was not asleep but comfortably numb.
Maybe it would be better to focus on Paul. Thoughts of him were better then some other thoughts.
One of his hands rested on the small of her back, his fingers tapping out a pattern every now and then, stirring something inside her when he did. His other arm was around her shoulder, dangling lightly.
Other points of interest she was oddly more acutely aware of. His Jean clad thigh pressing against the space of her leg where her skirt was riding up just a bit to far and caught on the buckle of his pants. His cheek was pressed against hers. Warm and soft and smooth. His fringe tickled her temple and the few times that he spoke she could feel his voice vibrating deep within his throat.
Her ankles were entwined with his. The van shook them against each other. Ankles. Who had sexy ankles? Paul had sexy ankles.
Gabrielle was more or less sure this would be the weirdest relationship she would ever have. (Then again she was also counting on finding a nice American boy to settle down with still too) Even if it was so unusual, she had never felt that she knew where she stood with someone more then Paul.
He wanted her. He did not need her and he was not in love with her. And yet there was more to it then even just that.
It still gave her a sense of reassurance.
"Hey" John whispered, she felt him nudge Paul’s arm and it moved up a bit on her back. Shivers raced through her. Don’t be so daft. "She asleep?"
"Yes, I think so" Paul whispered back "Sod off, don’t poke her. She doesn’t sleep enough"
Pete must have made a face or rolled his eyes because nearly everyone in the Van said "Shut up Pete" or an extent of it.
She wanted to smile. But it would give her away. Besides it might be nice to know what they said when she wasn’t around.
"So how was that song coming?" John asked
"I figured it out" Paul grinned , he moved against her face. "I saw her standing there. That was genius man"
"I am, ain’t I" John chuckled he reached out and ran his hand over Gabrielle’s hair lightly. In a very un-John fashion. He sighed. No one else was listening except she and Paul.
"Macca," he sighed "Is there… you know like a fucking thing happening"
Paul pressed his lips together firmly "What’re you thinking"
"You know what I’m thinking"
‘I know. And it’s annoying"
They may as well have been speaking in riddles. She understood them though. And unnatural jealousy filled her. Not because she wanted John or Paul. Because she wanted their friendship. She wanted to be in the loop. Those looks that passed between them. No one else could share those looks. No one else could have that friendship.
"So is what I’m thinking true?’ John asked
Paul was quiet
"Ok" John shrugged "I don’t fucking care mate. If you get some fab songs out of it I don’t care"
Paul chuckled lightly "It isn’t right"
"What’s right?" John asked "Maybe you are right and everyone else is fucking wrong. Or maybe we’re all stuck in the land of Maybe and right and wrong don’t exist"
"Lennon my head hurts too much fer yer beatnik rubbish right now" Paul giggled
John sighed "You know what scares me" he whispered. Gabrielle could feel him move closer to Paul so he was sure no one else could hear
"What?" Paul asked softly. His fingers found their way to her hair and massaged the thick dark locks.
"Besides the obvious band, manager, girl fuck ups" John hissed "This one"
"This one?"
This one what, she wanted to ask. But Paul expelled a soft breathe
"Me too" he whispered
"I hope she doesn’t fuck up" John trailed his hand up her arm. Watching with gentle fascination.
Where they talking about her? Why were they afraid of her?
"It’ll do me head in" Paul murmured
"Yeah" John agreed "And what a funny thing. You know what I mean? It sounds daft. Fer all this confusion to be over a bird"
"A gorgeous bird… you know what Johnny?"
"What?"
"I told her that and you know what she fucking said. She said she didn’t fucking care. She doesn’t care. I love it man. We’ve got the mot beautiful girl in the world right here and she doesn’t care. She could have been born an old hag and she wouldn’t have cared"
John grinned and nodded "She’s going to break some guys heart in two"
"Stop quoting Buddy Holly, you sound daft"
"Yer a fucking daft twit" John countered
Paul shrugged "I hope she doesn’t fuck up"
"I hope so too"
