AN: Heya! Thank you for the reviews you've left, they're awesome! I hope you enjoy this part and I would really love to hear what you think of it because I've been hinting at the following parts and that some big stuff happens. Thank you for still reading and for looking forward to the new chapters, it means a lot to me!
Thoughts after thoughts run through my head. Dozens up dozens of them; I'm from a different time period and a whole century in itself than Paul. He's old enough to be my great grandfather in the future where I belong. I belong there and not here, but there isn't anything or anybody in the future that would make me want to to back and leave here. He's supposed to marry somebody else, well more like somebody elses and have children with them, and then there's Jane. Oh Jane. I basically ruined their relationship, before Paul would in five years. I've already changed so much as well as caused trouble in this short week.
"Does it feel right with him?" I leave my thoughts to hear Iz speak to me and I focus back on her.
I shrug my shoulders in answer because of the thoughts making things seem so unclear and strange. Does it feel right with him or does it not? It seems wrong due to all of this time and years and being from the future mess, and that's what is making me feel as if it's wrong with him. What if it's too late to apologize and go back to this relationship? Whatever we have, anyways. After all I did use to wish, before I arrived here in a crazy haze, that I could find a way to go back in time and meet Paul with the hope that we would fall in love and we would end up together. How crazy I was thinking that. Be careful what you wish for, they say. They never did say meeting a guy would result in immediate happiness and that you wouldn't suffer with the bumps in the road taking that happiness you hoped and worked for away, like i've already experienced. I didn't want to rewrite history, and I don't want to now, but I want him and this thing that we have to be something. You never really hear-well Doctor Who doesn't fall into this, Rip Van Winkle and that book about the time traveler's wife-about getting to go back in time because it's impossible, or so I thought, and so why not make something out of this crazy, bizarre adventure that still isn't making much sense for me? Why not include some much needed love on the way? I always did want to live in the sixties and dress like them, smoke some pot-actually lets scratch that one off- and see what all those old people of the twentieth century were talking about. Why not take a risk?
"Iz, what if it's too late with him?" I ask her with a sad look and she sends me a warm smile, one that reminds me of Paul's and what it used to do for me.
"I wish I could tell you if it is or isn't, dear, but I don't know him. But you do. You know him and what he's like. Try not to think about him though, and just wait until tomorrow when you'll to back to see him. Right now just let it be our girl time, yeah?"
"Yeah." I respond and I grab a handful of the yellow popcorn and I turn to face the telly and I soon yawn while munching on the buttery pieces of food while the black and white picture plays in front of my eyes. Two weeks ago I most definitely didn't think I would be sitting in 1963 this night doing what I am right now, and thinking about this man.
I yawn and turn the page of this magazine of Izzy's that I found on the shelf of the sitting table where our empty gray mugs sit with the little marshmallows sitting on the bottom and I see a few familiar faces smiling in a picture above a paragraph covering three quarters of the page, "You really like these Beatles, huh?" I ask Izzy who sits on the floor with her arms resting on the table as she paints her nails a light pink.
"I sure do, darling. Everybody around does too, and we all think they're only going to get bigger," you have no idea, Iz. "As if they're voices and songs aren't perfect enough they're all lovely, and very kind gentlemen I've heard."
I nod my head as a record plays to create a nice atmosphere around us and I skim the paragraph that speaks of their appraised success and it features an interview with them. My eyes flit back to Paul's grinning face as his hands are in his pockets and his wind swept hair is cast over his forehead, and I turn the page as his laugh, toothy grin, and secure arms take over my thoughts.
"Now what was the name of this bloke you're with again? I'm afraid I forgot it."
"I uh never said his name, but it's..." I trail off as she blows on her gleaming nails while I go back and forth between should I tell her or should I lie. Lying to Paul hasn't done me any good, I remember.
"It's James." I decide to announce and she looks to me with a smile. Technically I'm not lying.
"Nice name. I always fancied those proper names like James, or Thomas. I dunno what it is about them, but I just love the sound." she comments and I smile at her before closing the magazine and looking to the clock that strikes quarter after 11. I yawn and so does Izzy which gets us laughing.
"I reckon that we're both ready to head in then. You don't mind taking the couch tonight, do you? It's actually rather comfy and I promise it won't screw up your back or anything," she waits for my affirmative of a nod and she rubs her tired eyes that she just removed the makeup from a minute ago in the bathroom, along with the rest of her makeup. "Just let me go get you a blanket and a pillow from the trunk I have in my bedroom. I'll be a minute."
"Okay. Thanks, Izzy."
"It isn't a problem, dear." she calls as she makes her way down the hall to disappear from my eyes and I look to the now silent record player where the needle lifts from the blackness and I soon hear the pitter patter of rain hitting the roof that I'm surprised I didn't notice before.
I set the magazine down and bring our two empty mugs into the kitchen to set them in the white sink and I reach into the cupboard where Izzy told me glasses are if I want something to drink. I find a tall glass that I fill with water from the tap and soon Izzy arrives back in the living room with a multicolored quilt in her arms and a yellow pillow, "Here you are, dear. Is there anything else I can get you?"
"No thanks, I should be fine." I answer and I place the half full glass back on the counter to place it there if I was to want it in the middle of the night and I flick my hair off of my shoulder as I walk over and I take the two items from her.
"Alrighty, love. My room is just down the hall if you need me, and really if you need anything just wake me up. I won't mind it and I won't get angry at you, promise. Sweet dreams and I'll see you in the morning, sweetie." she bids before she leaves and shuts the light off and the record player as well, and I look to the running television that plays a commercial for some brand of toothpaste.
I set the pillow on the left side of the couch and I lay down on the comfortable piece of furniture that is much more softer and less stiff than the sofa at Paul's flat. I pull the thick quilt over me and sigh as my eyes feel heavy and a yawn soon escapes my tired lips. I think of him and how I miss having his arms around me and his soothing breathing heard in my ear as I lay here alone with my cold feet curled up at the end of the sofa when they would always be warm because they were next to his heated pair. I miss his silky voice that I'd hear first thing in the morning or last thing at night. I wonder what he's doing right now; probably asleep, I'm guessing. I wonder if he misses me and if he-. Just quit that, I tell myself as I don't need to be feeling any more lonely or be missing him anymore than I currently am. He could be thinking about how mad he is at me, for all I know, or how he couldn't feel any more right about the last words he spoke to me at the restaurant-. Just stop, I cut into my own thoughts and I pull the covers up to my shoulders and turn over to face the back of the couch as the tv is rather silent and I close my eyes to find the release of sleep, ten minutes later as I fight to not think of him or about him.
The car stops in front of the long building and I look to their door with the number to it's side. Time sure does fly. I look back to Izzy who inspects her glossy nails that she got a good coating of syrup on this morning when we had blueberry pancakes for breakfast after we both slept in, but I really didn't. I had woken up around three from a bad dream and I thought that I was back home, at their place, and that he was beside me and then I awoke at eight and couldn't get my thoughts to cease for a minute to allow me to again succumb to sleep. He's been on my mind ever since, now that it's 1 in the afternoon.
"Thanks again for letting me stay with you, Iz. I couldn't tell you enough how much I appreciate it."
"Oh, don't mention it, doll face. We'll have to make sure it won't be just a one time thing. Come over sometime, love! I make a really mean red velvet cake and my potato salad is the best in town, you know!" her joking smile fades to a warm set. "Good luck on talking to your boyfriend, love. I really do hope that it works out for you lot, and if it doesn't don't hesitate to ring me up. We can always have another slumber party."
I flash her a smile with a mumble of another thank you as my hand sits on the door's handle and I step onto the curb wet from the morning rain and I shut the door to watch her speed off to around the corner. I wrap my nervous arms around my now shivering body and I force myself to take a step towards the brown steps and up them until I reach the door that I rap my freckled knuckles on a few times as my heart beats in my ears and my breathing is ragged from nerves and anxiety. My fist falls from the wet wood painted a smooth white and I look to my anxious feet as my hands are folded with the black sweater coming down past my wrists. I'm a little smaller than Cynthia, it seems. I look up when I hear the click of the door and my eyes go wide when I see it to be somebody with red hair a little lighter than me, one wearing a dark dress. Jane; his ex.
"Aren't you-." her light voice begins before I turn to dash down the steps.
"Jane, who's that at the door?" I hear Paul call to her as I flee the scene, in a way and I look back to see her holding the door with a hand as she watches me walk away as my throat grows dry.
"They uh had the wrong house, Paul. No worries." she replies as I pull the sweater tighter around me and I tell my feet to move faster on this slick walk, but they seem to be moving slower than ever. He's back with her, isn't he? Has he simply forgotten about me and who I am?
I turn the corner at the end of the sidewalk and I slam into somebody and mumble a quiet sorry as the rain begins to come down in another heap, "It's alright, love. Wait, is that you, Courtney?" the deep voice replies and I look up to see the thick eyebrows and chiseled cheekbones.
"George?"
"Where are you running off to?" he jokes with an amused grin and I watch it fade as I feel the hot tears spill onto my cheeks and his look turns sad.
"Were you just at the flat?" he questions in his male voice and I nod my head before looking down and he sighs.
"S-she answered the door, and I just left." I explain in my weak voice and he takes my arm to pull us over to the side and I look up to see his friendly eyes bursting with feeling.
"Ah, I'm so sorry, Courtney. It's nothing though, I'm telling you. She's just-."
"Please don't make excuses for him. You're on his side, aren't you?" I respond boldly while tears interrupt my vision.
"I didn't know there were sides, and I never said that I was on any side, love. I swear."
"Please just leave me be." I retort and I pull my arm from his gentle grip to stride across the street and I turn after the first building as my long hair grows damp from the cold rain that pours down and I continue to cry.
I missed it. It is too late after all. But what about what we had? What did we even have? What about the second part of the pottery class tonight? What about the talks, the canoodling, laughing, jokes, teasing and all of that affectionate stuff? I shouldn't of expected anymore, right? I turn a corner and my shoe slips on the wet sidewalk and I fall and crumple against the side of the brick building as pain shoots up my leg as the tears fall one after the other; again and again down my already wet cheeks. I let my exhausted eyes shut, and soon everything switches to black as the sound of rain hitting the cold earth fades from my mind.