AN: Hey… :) Yes, that was a nervous, I'M SORRY! smile, because I know I haven't updated this story since the summer. Which is BEYOND horrible of me, yes, I am well aware. But, the point is that I'm updating it NOW, and that I hope I haven't lost ALL my readers of this story…? Haha…READ!
Holly:
"Rose…I'm pretty much one hundred percent sure that this is a REALLY bad idea."
Rose was sitting next to me, a mug of something that smelled suspiciously toxic in her hand. She grinned in a relaxed, go with the flow sorta way, and I could tell she was encouraging me to do the same.
"Hol, it's ONE beer. I know you have a little body, but you can handle one." She looked so confident and sure, I found myself nodding along with her.
"One? That's it?" See, I REALLY wanted to make this trip up to Rose. Even though I'm really not to blame for anything, I still felt kinda bad about the whole Robert thing.
Rose smiled lazily, and a guy passing her full on stopped for a few minutes to watch as she gulped down some more of her drink. However, she always had such GREAT peripherals.
"Get the FUCK away from me, perv," she spat, turning quickly in her chair and scarring the stranger off. She looked back at me. "Go ahead, it won't KILL you."
I held the glass in front of my face, peering at its contents carefully. "What's even IN here?"
"Beer," she answered me like it was obvious.
"Well duh," I said, trying to sound a little smarter, "but what's even in the BEER? Like, if I drink it a certain way will it, like, not get as drunk?"
It was an honest question, I swear.
Rose scowled at me, leaning in so I could smell the alcohol on her breath. "I swear to GOD, Holly, if you don't drink that RIGHT NOW I'm going to—"
But I never exactly figured out what she was going to do, because at just that moment, I tipped the glass back and let the bitter contents fall into my mouth.
And two people arrived, just in time.
"'Ello Rose, Holly," George said, plopping himself down in the chair next to my best friend. Rose's normally pouty lips were sunken into a deep scowl.
"Hey there, Hol," Paul chirped, leaning against the table next to me. I swallowed my mouthful of the nasty substance I was drinking with a loud gulp, as if this was a proper greeting. "How ya doin'?"
"Well," I began, setting the nearly empty mug on the table top and ignoring the nasty churning in my stomach, "Rose's decided that I don't loosen up enough, so she's invited me to have a drink. Even though I don't…really…drink."
Paul nodded, as though he encountered this situation every day.
Rose:
Holly was already slurring her words a little bit, and she was laughing louder than she ever had in the entire history of their friendship.
She was only on her second beer.
"So, how's your night been?" George asked conversationally.
Rose had never been a huge fan of conversational talk. She frowned even deeper, shrugging her shoulders loosely. "Bout the same as the last few nights; I can never seem to get drunk fast enough."
George scrunched up his nose, as though this was an awful thing to say. "You're rather cynical, aren't you?"
Rose nodded slowly. "Aye…that was the plan. Trick you into thinking I was some sort of daisy-picker to lure you in, and then release the cynic guns at the last moment. It's worked rather well, I'd say."
He chuckled, and Rose felt an enormous gust of pride for actually making him smile. Oh, that imperfect, crooked smile. How it made her heart beat so.
"Oh, you've definitely got me under your spell," he said, tilting his mug back to get the last few sips of his drink.
She watched him, rather fascinated, to be perfectly honest. "Don't you have a show to play?" she asked rather bluntly, glancing over at the giggling Holly (whom she was supposed to be watching).
George shook his head. "We're off on Tuesdays, since John hates them."
This made Rose giggle. "Huh? How can a person HATE Tuesdays? They're perfectly normal."
"He says they're out to get him." George shrugged. "Then again, a LOT of things are out to get John. For example, that group of girls." He pointed to a cluster of young women, all of which were crowded at the bar and looking seethingly angry. "They're here every night."
It was funny, but Rose had never noticed them.
She opened her mouth to retort, but was cut off by a loud banging sound that made her jump a few feet. Her eyes snapped upwards, where Holly was dancing on their tabletop, her long-heeled boots stomping and her hands lifted upwards, sloshing beer down her front.
"Oh, Holly," she moaned, running her hands through her wildly curly hair. She made a move to grab her friend from the table, but she was interrupted by another stomp, and suddenly Paul was right next to her. He was a considerable amount more sober, however, and was laughing his ass of.
"I'M GLAD YOU THINK THAT'S FUNNY!" I bellowed at Paul over the crooning band currently onstage. George just stood there, staring up at Holly as though he'd never seen her clearly before.
Paul cackled with laughter, putting his hands on Holly's waste and pulling her closer to him. She obeyed without a single inhibition. "YOU'RE THE ONE THAT TOLD HER TO DRINK!" he hollered back, raising his eyebrows.
Touché.
"DON'T WORRY, I'LL MAKE SURE SHE GETS HOME! YOU TWO HAVE FUN!" Paul winked, then began a round of loud, animated singing with Holly, who didn't even look down at Rose.
John:
My band has disappeared. They've gone, left me with nothing but pills to keep myself awake. HOW could they think it was good idea to leave me alone on a TUESDAY? Who KNEW who could show up, only to make this day a considerable amount worse.
Paul and George had gone to a club, to see a pair of birds. The small one, and the insane one. Really, he didn't quite see the point of chasing after them, they were nothing but a waste of time.
And Ringo…where the FUCK was Ringo? Ditching me, I suppose? On a TUESDAY?
The world had gone completely mental.
Rose:
George walked me back to my hotel room.
"I don't understand how you could be so mean one second, and so nice the next."
I didn't look at him, my face still flushed from the amount of dancing I had done. George had somehow managed to pull me away from my precious numbness and force me on the dance floor, where he showed me his moves.
Preeeeeetty hot.
"It's not a matter of nice and mean," I answered cryptically, still avoiding his gaze. It just wasn't worth it right now to put myself out there. What if Robert came back?
"Really? Then what's it a matter of?" he asked quietly, stopping his footstep right outside of the door I had come to call home. Even though the hotel was bloody disgusting, I couldn't help but like some of the cheesy decorating. It was growing on me.
I struggled to come up with a response to that. So, instead of saying anything at all, I took a step towards my door, half-turning around to say goodbye to him.
"Get the fuck away from my room, creep," I said, opening the door and taking a step in.
"Goodnight, Rose," he replied, and I just heard him as I sealed the door off for the night.
Holly:
Warm, almost liquid sunshine radiated from the windows and licked at my bare skin, making me smile a little bit in my pre-wake up haze. I rolled over into a blanket I had wrapped around me, snuggling into its comforting warmth.
"Mmmm…" I moan, truly not wanting to get up. I'm pretty sure this is the most comfortable I have EVER been. I nestle my head into the blanket, finding it to be pretty firm. I must have to comforters balled together, I decide quickly, smiling gently.
"Good morning," someone whispers. I can only assume it's Rose, from the other bed. Because who ELSE would it be, right?
…right?
Oh. SHIT.
I suddenly opened my eyes, finding myself face to chest with smooth, pale skin. Hardly daring to breath, I let my eyes travel up…up…til I find a pair of sleepy hazel peepers gazing down at me.
I sit bolt upright, the blankets falling down and fully revealing my chest, which I stare at for a full second before hastily cover myself back up. I stare—in mild shock—from my bare arms to Paul's bare chest.
"We didn't…no…ohmyGod…"
Paul reached out, placing a gentle had on my arm. "Holly? Are you okay?"
Then the reality of it all sinks in; I'm not a virgin any more. And I lost it to Paul McCartney.
I lean over the side of the bed, puking my guts out.
AN: LMFAO! Ohhh Holly. :) REVIEW!