I wait to hear for a word to come from either of them for a moment as silence takes place in my ears before being flushed out, "I don't have anything against her."
"You're not fooling anybody with that line, John. Just fess up, son." Paul scolds and I consider to walk away so I won't have to hear them argue, something that has to do with me.
"I really don't, honest. But maybe I'm just looking out for the lass."
"Looking out for her?! Since when do you care about anybody other than yourself, us lads and Brian? That's how it's been for years, and you can't deny it!" Paul retorts while I imagine Paul standing in front of the older John sitting on the sofa as the words are being shot at each other.
"I know how it may be such a big surprise to you, but yeah maybe I do care about her, a tiny bit. You weren't the one having to escort girls those mornings after they stayed in your bed and found you gone the next morning 'cause you took the coward way out and left so you wouldn't have to tell them to leave. . . not that I cared about them or anything."
"Oh, so are you thinking that I'm going to do the same thing to Courtney?" the man who I didn't want to, but have grown fond of this last nearly week speaks in a lower voice.
"She's hardly an adult, and it's obvious that she's naive! She follows you around like one of our fans who is mesmerized by you paying attention to her, and acting like you like her!"
"Acting?! You think I've been bloody acting all this time?" Paul yells and I get up from the steps to walk to his pitch black bedroom as I don't know how to feel.
I wish that I had never heard a word of what they said, because now my mind is running and I don't know what to do other than sulk in his bedroom until I see it safe to test the battle fields downstairs. I flick my hair over my shoulder and their loud voices come through the closed door and I feel the goosebumps form on my arms. I always would grow scared from hearing my parents scream at each other like they did, and now this feels like just about the same situation, in a way. I sigh and stare into the darkness as their voices reverberate off the thin walls and I slip off of the bed to crack open the door to hear silence. Nothing but it. Just the hum of the heating ducts reclaiming their place to be heard and I take a step towards the stairs that sounds ten times louder than they actually are. I hesitantly take another. And another, and another, and another until I'm standing on the stairs and can see into the living room that sits the two moody men. Paul sits in a chair near the fireplace, facing me, as John is sat on the couch like I thought with his back facing me. I lift my foot from the step that makes a noise and Paul's mop top lifts to spot me standing on the stairs and he forces a smile.
"Hey, darling. When'd you wake up?" he asks and John doesn't bother to give me even a look, but instead stalks off to the kitchen. Thanks for the hello.
"Um just a minute ago." I decide to tell him a fib and I move my feet over to him to sit in the chair beside him while he looks tired. I glance to the clock that reads nine o'clock.
He looks down to his lap as he fiddles with the cuffs of his dress shirt that he always seems to be wearing some style or color of. I wonder if he ever gets sick of having to wear a suit almost every day, one after the other, "So, are you feeling better at all?" he looks up to ask and when I nod I see his face loosen oddly.
"That's good to hear. Are you hungry at all, love?"
"Yeah, I am actually." I respond and he smiles, but then I watch it fade even though I wish it would've stayed in front of my eyes.
I see him look away for a moment as his eyebrows are squished together while he appears to be thinking and then his light eyes dart back to me and I suddenly wonder what else him and John yelled about after I wandered away, "How about you go freshen up and then we'll go somewhere, yeah?"
"But, Paul, it's nine o'clock." I object, but my words don't phase him in the slightest.
"Oh just go on and do whatever girls do to get ready, and meet me back down here." he insists with good intentions coating his words and one corner of his mouth turns up into a half smile. I have always loved that smile, and the way it can bring one onto my own lips.
"Okay, I guess I will then. But what's the trick you have under your sleeve?" I joke with him as I make my way away from him to the hall and he just laughs before leaving the chair and I see his face fall and the smile disappear before he fully leaves my field of vision.
I frown myself as I travel to the bathroom and I wash my face, do a good job of brushing my teeth, I also run a brush through my hair before I put some lotion on and look over my clothes that are now all wrinkled so I decide to head upstairs quickly to change into a black dress of Cyn's that buttons down to my midriff, has short sleeves and has a girly kind of collar. Even though it seems to be all dresses and pencil skirts here in the sixties I do like some of their fancy wardrobe, I have to admit. I take a once over of my appearance in the mirror before I close the door behind me and I shuffle down the stairs to find Paul leaning against in the wall now in a blazer as I fasten the last few buttons on my sweater. I flash him a smile that he musters in a small return before he politely opens the door for us to have us meet the night air.
"Aren't we going in the car?" I ask Paul after he didn't go for the driver side and he looks to me at his side as his hands are casually in his pockets.
"No. We're just going around the corner for dinner, love. It's a shame they don't deliver since they're close... So, do you fancy pizza at all? You know, the Italian special." Paul comments and I almost laugh at his comment. From where I'm from everybody likes pizza, but I guess the greasy classic hasn't made much of an impact in the 60's yet, or at all.
"Yeah, I love it. I didn't know that you like pizza."
"Usually I'm not the largest fan of it, but this place we're on our way to has great pies with some great toppings." he comments and I smile at him instead of nodding or coming up with some pointless response and his eyes trail away from me as I still can see the far away look they have in them. Something is wrong, they're must be.
"Paul, is-." I begin.
"Here we are then. Come on now, we have to go find us a spot." he interrupts and acts as if he didn't hear what I was trying to say as we approach the double doors of a restaurant that looks to be a few floors. He holds the door open for the both of us to have us step foot into the festive Italian place where the smell of garlic and plenty others are wafting through the air.
An employee arrives and Paul says we'll be sitting upstairs which I found odd since a host or hostess usually seats the guests, and we just walk off, "What was that?" I ask Paul and he grabs my calm hand to pull me along with him over to a staircase that leads up to a second floor where booths are as the wooden walls are covered with paintings and framed pictures. Wow.
"It's how they do things here. They leave menus on the tables and then somebody comes to wait on you. They have such a long list of drinks here, it's gear." he comments and he whistles after the words fade from his lips while I feel his hand in mine and soon our fingers tangle with the other's.
"How about this one?" he mumbles, seemingly to himself and not to me and he leads us to a booth with red vinyl on the seats. He lets go of my hand to take a seat on the opposite side so I decide to sit across from him.
He still whistles a strange tune with his pink lips forming an 'O' as he picks up the menu sat in front of him and I look down to grab mine as he taps his foot on the floor. He just always has to be doing something, doesn't he? I look over the few pages that list breadsticks, soups, dishes of spaghetti, ravioli, lasagna, and then a whole section is devoted to pizza. They all have these corky names to them and I close the menu and leave the deciding of the food to him since he'll probably know what to get. It sounds as if he has been here after all. I look down at my wrists covered by the red fabric of this one certain sweater that is a bit itchy, but otherwise all comfy and cozy. I suddenly hear a bout of laughter and a flow of voices that follow it, but I don't lift my head to look. I do raise my eyes to see Paul glancing around to the rest of the second floor that only extends on this half while more is happening on the first floor, all while he rubs his thumb against the bottom of his lip. I've noticed him doing that several times; habit maybe. He glances back to his menu that sits opened in front of him, but he doesn't meet my eyes that sit on him. He must know that I'm looking at him not so inconspicuously like I'm trying to come across as, right? He isn't mad at me, is he?
"P-." I decide to break this silence that is growing nearly unbearable, but Paul's lips part at the same time as mine.
"I was going to-," he laughs at us interrupting each other and I softly do too, but it then fades and I look to the shiny table. "Darling, what's the matter? Are you still not feeling all that well?" he questions and I look up to see his droopy eyes sitting on me.
"No, I'm feeling fine."
"Then what is it, love?" he pries for the answer and before I could answer, even though I don't think I was going to, a waiter comes to take our orders. Thank God.
He leaves after taking down our beverage order; Paul got a Coke mixed with some kind of liquor, I wasn't really listening, and I just decided to get a Pepsi.
"Come on, love, tell me what's bugging you. Is it what happened with Robbie earlier today?" Paul brings his words back to our recent topic of discussion before the waiter stepped in and I look away from my wrists where I was pulling at my bracelets, the ones he had given me, and I look into his eyes that feel like they go on for infinity. Like they could never end.
Just like my hopes for this adventure with him. I don't want it to never end, but each day I feel like I'm somehow getting closer to the day when everything will change will be nothing no more. I'll remember him, possibly, and all of the conversations we've had and the embraces as well as tender moments and what about him? Sure he'll remember, maybe, but-. That's enough, I tell myself as I'm thinking about this too much as I have the privilege of him sitting in front of me, young, and caring about me. He tilts his head and a goofy smile erupts onto his formerly straight lips and I fight to not smile as I'm having all of these thoughts and he stands to extend his hand to me and I take it to walk with him.
AN: Thanks for the reviews! I'm happy that you're enjoying this story so much! I hope you enjoyed this part. There's more to come! I'd love to hear what you think of it!