Something

Chapter 36: Hold Me Tight

Sasha's POV

May 2, 1964

There it was. The infamous Kenwood. Maureen and Jane had told me that it was beautiful, but I couldn't believe it as George drove through the gates and up the drive. It was a huge house. I couldn't believe that this was John's house. This could be our house. I didn't need to think like that, though.

Today was the day of the vacation. Maureen and Jane were going off to the Virgin Islands with Paul and Ringo, and I was stuck with John and Cynthia. George and I were picking them up so we could drive to the airport. I wasn't sure how this vacation would turn out, but George assured me that we would have a good time. I was also nervous about spending so much time with Cynthia. I hadn't really held a conversation with her ever except for that one time in America when she offered to take George back to the hotel when he was sick. I still wondered if she knew about me and John.

George shifted the car into park, "Let's go in and help them with their bags."

"Alright," I exhaled nervously.

George came around and opened my door for me, "Relax, Sasha. This will be fun."

I followed George up to the front door of the large home. He rang the doorbell, and we stood there and waited for someone to come to the door. I noticed that my palms had gone sweaty.

Suddenly, a lady that I didn't recognize answered the door, "Oh, George. Hello."

George walked in, and the lady stopped me as I started to walk past her, "Hi, you must be Sasha. I'm Mr. and Mrs. Lennon's nanny."

"Nice to meet you," I smiled at her.

George had waited for me. I followed him into the living room where John was tying his tie, and Cynthia was sitting on the couch watching Julian play on the floor.

"Hello, George. Sasha," Cynthia greeted us as we sat down on a couch.

I had never seen Julian before, but his back was turned to me. Then, he stood and waddled over to me. He had a pacifier in his mouth. I picked him up and held him in my lap and bounced my legs. I wondered when I was going to have kids. I had wanted that long ago. I noticed that Julian looked exactly like John. As I was bouncing my legs, he smiled and laughed causing the pacifier to fall from his mouth.

"He likes you," I heard John say. It sent shivers down my spine. It shouldn't have.

I smiled at Julian, "How old is he?"

"He just turned one last month," Cynthia replied.

I was struck by how much he looked like John. I continued to play with and coo at him. He was a cute baby.

We visited for a few moments before George suggested that we leave before we miss our flight. George helped Cynthia carry her bags to the car. John had his bag and walked beside me slowly to the car.

"I'm excited for this holiday," he said.

"Me too," I replied.

It was weird just making small talk with John. It was weird how distant I felt from him. I felt like he was a different person.

May 20, 1964

We had been in Tahiti for a couple of weeks. George was right. The trip was fun, and now we only had a few days left. I would miss this paradise, but we were starting our tour in Australia soon. I was sat on beach by myself watching the sun come up. George and the others were still asleep in the beach bungalow that the four of us had rented.

"It's beautiful isn't. You don't see this in England," I heard Cynthia say.

She sat down next to me on the sand. We had become somewhat like friends on this trip. We would make fun of John and George when they would get up to their antics. She was a nice girl. I feel like we had more in common that I first thought. She was from Liverpool. She went to the art college with John and Stu.

I decided to bring him up, "Did you know Stu Sutcliffe?"

She smiled, "Stu. He would've loved this place. He was very talented artist. I had some classes with him. He was probably the best one at the institute. It was tragic what happened to him. John was so close to him."

"He was special to me as well. Stu was my best friend. He was there for me when no one else was," Every word I spoke, I missed him a little bit more.

Cynthia turned toward me, "I didn't know you knew him."

It was silent between us. I guessed that she was remembering Stu just like I was.

I heard her voice again, "Listen, you don't have to tell me, but…were you and John a thing before us?"

I sighed, "He hasn't told you?"

"He used to talk about a girl when we first started seeing each other. He used to say 'Cyn, I'm still not over my last girlfriend, and because of that, things might be slow between us,'" she mocked John's voice, "The other day he said something about knowing you back in Liverpool. I was just wondering if the ex-girlfriend was you."

"Yeah, we were together for three years."

"I'm sorry," Cynthia said, "I wouldn't have invited you and George if I had known. I hope it's not awkward."

"No, it's getting better. Brian made us become friends before we went to America so the public wouldn't notice that something was wrong."

Silence happened again. I wondered what she was thinking.

She took a deep breath, "Did you love him?"

I looked at her, "He was my world, Cynthia. I loved him more than anything I had ever known. We were engaged before things ended."

"Wow. I had no idea," she replied, "What happened?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," I said. I didn't know what her and John's relationship was like, and I didn't want to make her look at him any differently, "Things just went bad in Hamburg."

She didn't reply. I wondered again what she might be thinking about me and John.

Just then, I heard his voice, "Morning ladies."

He sat down next to his wife. Cynthia was in between us, and we had been good friends this vacation, but I felt like there was ocean between us.

June 13, 1964

"Stop yelling at me George!" I had tears in my eyes. My vision was blurry.

The hallway we were walking down after getting out of the elevator was sideways. I think I had drank too much at the hotel bar. We were two days into our Australian tour, and George and I had gone down there for some drinks, and both of us when overboard with it. He had started a fight with me in the elevator, and I wasn't sure what we were fighting about.

"What's wrong with me, Sasha?" he yelled grabbing my shoulder and turning me around to face him, "Why won't you move on and marry me? We've been together for two and half years. I feel like we're going nowhere."

"I'm not ready," I slurred, "You said you would respect that."

George's face grew even angrier at me, "You're not ready because you're thinking about him! You whore!"

Tears cascaded down my eyes. I didn't know where his angry words were coming from. George wasn't like this. I felt a headache coming on. I felt my legs go wobbly, and I leaned against the wall. I hated being drunk.

John's POV

Paul and I were sitting in the living room of our hotel suite in Adelaide long after the show. Jimmy, who was replacing Ringo while he was sick, had already gone to bed to get some rest for his flight tomorrow. Paul was reading the paper, and I was drinking a rum and coke and smoking a ciggie. We both turned to look when we heard two angry but familiar voices coming down the hall.

Paul and I stood from the couch as they got right outside the door. It was George and Sasha yelling at each other for something. They had been downstairs at the pub, and they sounded pissed out of their minds.

"You whore!" I heard George's voice yell.

I stepped behind Paul as he opened the door, "Alright, party's over."

Paul grabbed George's arm and pulled him into the room, "Get Sasha, will you John?"

I stepped into the corridor. Sasha was leaning against the wall with her eyes half closed and tears streaming down her cheeks. She was smashed. I had seen her drunk a few times in Liverpool and Hamburg. She really had to be cared for. She was one of those emotional drunks. I knew she wouldn't remember the probably pointless argument she had endured with George. I wrapped my arm around her and ushered her into the hotel room. She held onto me tightly and leaned into me. It reminded me of the old times.

I shut the hotel door behind us.

Paul was holding George up, "I'm taking George to bed. I hope they don't remember their argument tomorrow morning."

"It was probably stupid anyway," I said, "and I don't think they'll remember. They're smashed."

Paul dragged George into the bedroom behind him to put him to bed.

Sasha looked up at me and began crying harder, "John, will you hold me?"

Shivers were sent down my spine, "Sure," I said wrapping my other arm around her.

She started sobbing in my arms, "I'm so stupid. I should've come up your door. I miss you."

She was slurring her words, and I wasn't quite sure what she was talking about, but I loved the sound of her voice saying she missed me. I missed her too. I was an idiot all those years ago to let her go. I should've apologized and gotten her back like I was supposed too instead of being afraid to face her after what I had done. I still hadn't forgiven myself for the way I turned on her in Hamburg.

"John," she whispered. I looked down at her as she spoke again, "Can I kiss you?"

I sighed. I wanted to kiss her, but I knew was a bad idea, "Sasha, you're drunk. I don't think that's a good idea."

She shook her head, "I won't be mad. I want to kiss you."

When I didn't say anything, I felt her lips meet mine. It was passionate and full of love. Even though she hadn't admitted it to herself, I knew that deep down she still loved me. If she didn't still love me, she wouldn't be doing this in her drunken state. I kissed her back, slipping my tongue into her mouth. I loved her. I would admit that a thousand times to her. I fell in love with her in July of 1957, and I would never fall out of love with her until the day I died.

She pulled away and grabbed my cheek with her hand, "Hold me tight. Can we go lay down? I feel weird."

I chuckled at her, "Sure."

When I looked up, Paul was leaning against George's closed door smirking at us, "Nice, John. Don't take advantage of her when she's drunk."

"I'm not," I stared at him, "She kissed me."

Paul rolled his eyes, "Just be careful. Goodnight."

I watched as Paul walked to his bedroom door across the room and close it behind him. I took Sasha across the hall to my room. Once we were in the room, I handed Sasha one of my shirts to sleep in.

Sasha's POV

I felt weird, but I felt as if I was where I needed to be.

John handed me one of his white dress shirts, "Turn around while I change."

John looked at me amused, "Sasha, no offence, but I've probably seen you in your knickers more times than George has."

"Fine," I sighed. John laughed at me. I don't know why he was laughing. I didn't think I was being funny.

I slid my dress off and unclasped my bra. I noticed John staring at me, and I blushed. I wasn't sure why I was blushing. I put on his shirt and climbed into bed. I watched as he slid off his trousers and shirt and climbed into bed in his briefs.

He held me in his arms. I sighed and snuggled closer to him. I was so comfortable I didn't want it to end. I kissed the tip of his nose. I kissed his lips. He kissed me back, and just like a few moments ago our kiss got deeper.

"I need you," my shaky voice said, "Make love to me."

John started kissing my neck and moved to hover over me. Soon, I was filled with a warmth and bliss that I hadn't experienced in four years, and I couldn't get enough of it.

The next morning

I felt arms around me and snuggled into them. I was surrounded by the warmth of the blankets around me. My head was aching, and I remembered going to the pub with George, but I didn't remember coming back to bed. We must have had one too many drinks.

I slowly opened my eyes to see almond shaped hazel ones staring back at me. John.

Why the hell was I naked in bed with John?