I Need You: A John Lennon Story

Chapter Five: Act Naturally, 12 August 1957

"Jules, Jules!"

John was drunk. We were sitting in a field not far from Mendips. John had managed to nick some liquor when he went to the shop earlier, and now, we were sitting behind a tree, drinking it.

"Jules," He whispered. "You should 'ave some!"

"No, if I did, nobody would be here to take care of you," I laughed.

"I don't need lookin' after, ya know?" John said, his voice getting suddenly stern. I looked at him quizzically, and he stared back for a second before laughing stupidly. He fell back into the growing grass, and kept laughing. I shook my head and then fell back, mimicking him. I turned to the side, and looked at him.

His eyes were closed, and although he was raging drunk, he looked quite peaceful. He had his palms down on the grass, his lips in a small smile, and his legs crossed. I stared at him for a minute longer until he finally opened his own eyes, turned towards my gaze, and stared back at me. I didn't say anything and he didn't either; we were too inhabited in each other's intense gaze, that no words were actually needed.

He gave a short laugh, and then scooted closer to me, reaching out for my hand. I didn't know how to react, so I let him take my hand in his. He turned his head to look up at the sky again, and then turned back to me. He smiled, and released my hand in favour of my cheek. He stroked it with his calloused thumb, and his smile softened.

He let go of my face, and then sat up, immediately taking me up with him. I laughed as he tossed me over his shoulder, squirming under his firm but gentle grip. He told me to settle down, and then proceeded to walk to the fallen tree nearby. He sat me down gently, and then took a seat himself. He turned to look at me again, and I looked up at him.

"You keep looking at my face, have I got something on it?"

John laughed, a short hiccup following, and shook his head. "No, no, you're really beautiful, that's all,"

I felt my cheeks heat up, and I looked down, clenching at the tree under me. John chuckled again and then put his hand over my own. I looked from it to him, and felt my cheeks burn even more.

"Why do you always get so nervous when I compliment you?" John asked, sluggishly.

I shrugged. "I'm not used to it, I guess; I don't know what to make of it,"

"Not used to it? That's hard to believe," John laughed.

"Nobody liked me at my school, they thought I was weird," I laughed. "I've gone on a single date, I think; I'm not even sure,"

"Well, we've got to fix that, haven't we?" He said. "Have you kissed anybody?"

"Err, no, I haven't," I said. "I dunno, I just never got around to it. No one in my school was interesting to me, and I wasn't interesting to any of them, so I just never got the opportunity."

I was embarrassed to admit that, especially to John, who I knew had gotten his first kiss and then some. But, as I turned to him, I realised that he wasn't listening to a word I was saying. He was simply staring at me as if I was a diamond.

It made me feel incredible.

I'd never received any kind of attention, and the amount of attention John was and had been giving me since I moved here made me incredible.

I looked up at him, and locked gazes with him. His smile softened, and he squeezed my hand in his. I bit my lip, and he bent down, almost pressing his forehead against mine.

I could feel his hollow breathing against my skin, and felt myself shiver. He bent down some more, so that his forehead was actually pressed against my own, and my mouth became dry. The liquor he had downed earlier still emitted from his breath, and from his clothes, but I could care less, simply, because I was completely paralysed at his touch.

When I didn't react to his advancements, he lifted his free hand and ran his thumb against my cheek like he had done earlier. His other hand let go of my own, and instead landed softly on my waist. I blinked slowly, and then opened them again, wondering frantically why I suddenly couldn't breathe.

John's eyes closed slowly, and mine did too, and soon, I felt him getting closer and closer to me, until finally, I felt soft and supple lips against my own.

The moment John's lips hit mine, every inch of my body was shocked with a buzzing electrical current. From the tips of my long fingers, to the pit of my burning stomach, and to my toes, I felt a warm buzz fill my body. His kiss set my body and my soul completely alight. I'd never felt as fantastically as I did right now. I'd never been so happy, and so elated, and so confused in the same moment. It was a glorious feeling, and I didn't want it to go away.

As soon as my mind began to function again, I began kissing John back. The hand he had coiled around my waist tightened its grip around me, and carefully pulled me towards him, so that my torso was resting against his. I could feel his slow, and hollow breathing, I could feel his heart pounding against my trembling body.

It was beautiful how well our lips meshed with each other's. It was as if my lips were made to fit the contours of John's lips exactly. It was beautiful.

My lungs were about to burst, I need to breathe. But I didn't want to pull away. If I pulled away, John would realise the mistake he'd committed in his drunken stupor, and he wouldn't want to kiss me again. I needed to hold out.

But I couldn't. No matter if John's hands had harshly grabbed me by the waist and hugged me against him in a passionate outburst. No matter if the amount of passion and, should I dare say it, love, was emitted from him wad indescribable. I couldn't leave his lips, I couldn't leave his arms.

I needed them around me. I needed to feel his heart beat against my chest. I needed to feel his breath trickle on my face. I needed to feel his warmness emit to me.

I needed him.

Desperately.

But I couldn't have him. Not now, and not ever. I pulled away. I lifted my hand, and wiped away at my mouth, immediately standing from where we were sitting on the fallen tree.

"I'm sorry, John, I have to go," I said, in the steadiest voice I could manage.

I picked up my bag from the floor, and tossed it over my shoulder. I turned my back on the stunned John, and began to walk away. After I was a good ten yards away, I heard John call after me.

"Jules, I'm sorry!" He said. "I didn't mean to, I wasn't thinking straight!"

I ignored him. I kept walking, feeling an all-too-familiar sting in my emerald eyes. My throat tightened and my fists clenched, and my stomach felt as if I had drunk acid.

I was falling apart.

'Why?'

I don't know. I still don't know. A week later, and I still didn't know.

Why did I let the kiss get that far? Why didn't I stop him when he began his first little advancement? Why did I allow myself to get so emotionally attached to him?

'I don't know.'

And that was all I knew, is that I didn't know why I permitted all of this to happen.

The abominable kiss that had refused to leave my head and my thoughts had ruined a perfect friendship, all because I allowed it to do so.

Even if our friendship wasn't ruined, and we decided to stop ignoring each other like we had done this entire week, it wouldn't be like it was before. That thought alone made me want to burst into tears.

I couldn't lose John. He meant too much to me. He was my friend, he was my best friend. I couldn't lose him. I couldn't lose him.

The phone rang. The ringing disrupted the silence the house had been in for nearly three hours, since I decided to sit down in the parlour and think. At first, I thought it might be John. But after remembering the circumstances, I decided that it might just be father, checking in on me from his flat in London.

I stood from the overstuffed arm chair in the corner and began a slow and unhurried walk to the phone. I lifted the receiver, and placed it against my ear.

"Hello?" I muttered.

"Julia! Darling! It's me!"

"Mum," I breathed. "Hello!"

"Mum? Honey, you're picking up the accent," She laughed; that joyous laugh that reminded me of church bells, that joyous laugh that made me forget all that she had done to our family. "Julia, how have you been? I miss you, terribly!"

"I miss you, too, mom," I nodded, leaning against the wall in thought. "I've been great, actually. I made friends. School starts in three weeks,"

"Oh, yes, Art College," Mother said, her voice suddenly getting nasal. "Darling, don't you think you should choose a profession that will allow you to get a career?

Here it came again. "Mum, I've said it once; I'm studying art because I enjoy it. I don't want to wake up in ten years and hate my life; I want to do what I'm passionate about. You of all people should understand that,"

"But, Julia, be logical, when will art be able to give you a pay check?"

"Mum, I don't want to argue," I said through gritted teeth. "Let's just talk,"

But, as those words escaped my lips, the doorbell to the front door rang. "Was that the door?"

"Yes, mum, hold on, will you?"

"I thought your father was in London," She began. "Julia, you're not supposed to answer the door!"

I set the receiver down before she could protest any more, and walked to the foyer, perplexed as to who it could be. I wasn't expecting any company. When I got to the door, I peeped through the stained glass panelling the walls beside the oak door, but couldn't see anything. The only thing I saw was a dark shadow.

I gripped the bronze doorhandle, and slowly pulled the door open, peering out to the evening sun. My throat tightened when I realised who it was.

"John,"