I've Just Seen A Face

“…as I sat looking at The Beatles Book and thinking of Paul sitting next to me, I noticed he was looking at me. I turned and carefully looked at him. His face was so boyish yet so stunningly attractive. My mind began to race with thoughts of him. I just wanted to wrap my arms around him and kiss him. I looked over at George who was sound asleep. As soon as I looked back towards Paul he began to kiss me. I should’ve pulled away, but instead all I did was kiss him back with all my heart wishing he knew how I felt…”
I suddenly opened my eyes. I looked over next to me where George lay asleep. I placed my hand on my forehead. I was dreaming of Paul yet again. Softly and carefully I crawled out of bed and slipped my clothes on. I decided to grab a drink from the lobby/restaurant area to help forget about Paul. As I walked out of the elevator and into the restaurant area, I noticed Paul sitting alone at the bar. Even though the whole point of coming down here was to get my mind off of him, I looked around and began to walk towards him. As I came closer I noticed he seemed sad or depressed. Bad dream too?
“Is this seat taken?” I asked him. He didn’t see me arrive so he turned around quickly yet cautiously. As soon as he saw it was me, he smiled. He gestured towards the empty stool.
“It is now,” I smiled and sat down.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. You seemed startled,” I apologized as I asked the bartender for a bottled water. He brought it out right away.
“Hey, no problem. I was more worried you were a fan or something,”
“Well, I am a fan,” I replied. He smiled again.
“Ya that’s true. I meant, you know, the crazy fans. The kind that want to rip me hair out,” he laughed. I joined his laughter.
“Yeah, I know what you meant.” I said as I took a sip of my water. Paul watched me. I looked around me. Was there something weird on me?
“What?” I asked suddenly self-conscious. He closed his eyes for a split second and shook his head slightly.
“Nothing. Um, so what brings you down here so late?” he asked changing the subject and taking a drink from the famous Beatle Coke and Scotch.
“Uh, I just couldn’t sleep. I was having weird dreams,” was all I said, “how about you? Bad dreams?”
“No, I don’t know why I can’t sleep. Too much on me mind I guess,” I nodded and took another drink of my water, “so what kind of weird dreams were you having?” he then asked me. Crap. I wasn’t very good at coming up with believable stories from the top of my head.
“Um, I don’t know. You were in it,” I said.
“I was in it?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah,” I said wishing I wouldn’t have said that.
“Well, what were you dreaming exactly?” he said lifting his right eyebrow. Oh I loved it when he did that. He looked so cute. Focus Olivia.
“Um, it was nothing really. Don’t you ever have dreams with weird and non-related things or people that you may not even like?” I asked him.
“You don’t like me??” he asked shocked and hurt. I covered my mouth with my hand.
“No that’s not what I meant. Oh my gosh, no I do like you, a lot actually-” I quickly stopped myself. I looked up at him. His eyebrow was up again with an “oh really” look in his eyes. I shut my eyes and pursed my lips together.
“You know what?” I said finally.
“What?” he said smiling.
“How about we just pretend we never had this conversation. Okay?” I asked looking at him with pleading eyes.
“I’ll try luv,” he said and I sighed. I’m such an idiot. He wasn’t going to forget that I dreamt about him and that I said I liked him a lot. Thinking about the dream reminded me that we never talked about the whole kiss thing. I was dying to know if it was real, or if it was the pot speaking.
“Hey Paul,” I started, “ can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” he said drinking some more of his drink. I took a deep breath.
“Um, why did you kiss me?” he stopped and looked over at me.
“What?”
“Why did you kiss me? In that room…” I repeated. He looked around and then back to me again.
“Oh yes, that room. Um, well I do a lot of weird things when I’m high…” he said. My spirit was suddenly lowered. That wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear. I guess he didn’t like me that way I thought he might’ve. Which means he probably didn’t mean it when he said that he was going to tell me he really liked me. I suddenly wanted to go back upstairs with George. After all, he was my boyfriend. I shouldn’t be down here flirting with Paul.
“Um, I think I’m going to go back upstairs,” I said standing up. Paul noticed the change in my attitude and stood up as well.
“Olivia, are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m just getting tired again.”
“Oh, okay, well, I’ll walk you up then.” He said pushing in the stools and paying the bartender. I didn’t really want him with me so I said,
“Paul you don’t have to,”
“I know, but I’m going up too and I want to.” There was no way around it unless I told him that I didn’t want him around right now, and I wasn’t going to do that.
We rode the elevator in silence. I avoided eye contact with him the whole time afraid that if I were to look at him I would begin crying. As we exited the elevator George’s room was the first stop.
“Good night Paul,” I said and began towards my door. I felt Paul touch my arm.
“Olivia wait-” he said and I turned around wanting him more than anything.
“Yes?”
“Um,” he hesitated for a moment or two and then leaned over and gave me a kiss. I shut my eyes, feeling my heart began beating two times faster. It was a short kiss and before I could do anything I would regret he pulled away. I kept my eyes closed for a few seconds savoring that incredible feeling. I opened them to find Paul looking softly at me. I smiled, and he returned the smile. I began to open my mouth, but he held up his hand.
“I guess I should explain that aye?” he laughed nervously, “Um, I know I just told you that the reason I kissed you before was because I was high, but uh, I lied. Olivia, I-” he stopped.
“You what?” I asked.
“I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but truthfully, I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since I laid eyes on you. I guess by doing that when I was high was just a way to kiss you without getting in too much trouble. And I did mean what I said about, oh nothing.” He did the nervous laugh again and looked at George’s door scared George was going to come out any minute. I smiled because I knew what he was going to say. He turned back to me.
“I just wanted you to know that, and well, the kiss?, uh, I guess I just wanted to kiss you, um, sober. That way I’ll remember it more and…” I couldn’t help but smile again.
“Paul I’m really glad you told me that, because believe or not, after you answered my question the first time, I was, well, somewhat hurt. I guess I-” I decided that was enough for right now, I didn't think it was right to tell him quite how I felt. He just smiled, I think knowing I didn’t want to say anything more. I wasn’t sure if at this moment then he knew I had feelings for him or not. I mean heck, I’ve left enough clues, and now this.
“Well, I think we should probably get to sleep,” he said. I nodded.
“Good night Paul.”
“Good night Olivia.”
I walked quietly back into the room as to not wake up George. As soon as I laid back down the guilt trip began. I couldn’t keep doing this to George. Especially when he had no clue. I stepped out of my dream and back into reality. A dream. That’s what started tonight, and that’s exactly what tonight was. It was just a part of my dream come true, and the rest will remain just a dream. With that frame of mind I put my arms around George and fell asleep.

The morning was a bit odd. At least between Paul and I. How could it not be after last night’s confessions? We didn’t really pay much to each other besides ‘good morning’. I spent the whole day with them and after supper we lounged around think of what we should do next.
“What’s on the agenda for tonight mates?” John asked.
“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m gonna start packing. 6am tomorrow mornin’,” Ringo said getting up.
“Oh damn, that’s right. We’re leaving a day early.” Paul complained, “guess I’d better start packing too.” I looked over at George.
“You never told me you were leaving early.” I said. He made a ‘whoops’ face, and I smiled.
“Yeah, sorry. I forgot. I meant to tell you because I was going to make the point of asking if you wanted to join us on this one.” Because I hated being without him and I skipped the last two I said yes.
“I need to go home now and pack then,” I said reminding him.
“Oh yeah. Well, actually that’s perfect. You go do that while we’re packing. And if I can I’ll come pick you up when you’re done so you don’t have to leave your car here at the hotel.”
“Good idea,” I said. I kissed him good bye and headed for home to pack. I loved going on tour with them, besides the running and reporters. But then again for someone who doesn’t do that often (like me) it’s somewhat exhilarating. I was done packing in about 45 minutes and since George wasn’t able to leave the hotel, Mal came to get me. When I arrived back at the hotel they had already decided to have a party before they left tomorrow. They used their whole floor and before long people were walking around. The party was like any other parties I’ve been too only at this one they were playing this weird India/Asian music. I didn’t particularly care for it. I was in a room with only a few people, but even then I became uncomfortable after about and hour. This just wasn’t me at all. I was sitting on the floor next to George who was smoking marijuana and already high. Paul was just a few feet away from us on a chair doing the exact same thing, except he was flirting with every half-naked girl who passed (considering every girl there except for me was dressed that way). I was disgusted. I was definitely not a fan of their parties. A couple times George offered me a drag of his joint but I declined turning away from the smell (even though it already haunted the air all around me). As I turned away, I saw yet another half-naked girl come by, except this time she stopped right in front of Paul. She gave him a look and sat on his lap legs wrapped around him. I made a face. As soon as she was seated, Paul began exploring with his hands.
“So what’s you name luv?” I heard him ask ‘charmingly’.
“November,” she answered. ‘What kind of name is November?’ I thought already jealous. Without further adieu they began kissing, and very heavily at that. I kept watching them and for what reason I don’t know. I was clearly disgusted and well, extremely jealous.
“Look at Paul go,” I heard George say as he giggled. I looked at him and then back to Paul. Just as I turned back I saw November’s hands heading towards, um, Mini Paul. I lifted my lip in more disgust. Oh but that wasn’t the worst part. As if I wasn’t jealous enough, or grossed out enough, it looked to me like she was unzipping his pants. I squinted my eyes to see if that’s what she was doing, and it was. Before I knew it she, well, pulled it out. I immediately turned away thankfully not seeing anything. When I turned back around I made sure I was facing Paul’s face. I could tell that he didn’t care who was around. All he cared about was that he enjoyed it. I turned away again. I heard George make a disgusted groan noise next to me. I realized that I wasn’t only disgusted, and overwhelmingly jealous, but also upset. Just last night he kissed me and was so sweet. I actually started to believe again that he liked me, maybe just a little. And not only that, but I was seriously considering changing my mind about George and giving him a try. But now? He’s letting this girl pull his, you know what, out! Frustrated, sad, and angry, I realized that it just goes to prove that he is and will always be the Paul McCartney that everybody knows. Even if they don’t know him personally. His reputation stands as a fact. I knew now that I really needed to try with all my might to push every feeling of love, lust, whatever the feelings were away. The feeling of anger began to faintly disappear as a more stronger feeling of saddness and disappointment seeped in. I was wrong the whole time, I knew it. He never liked me and deep down I didn’t want to push my feelings away. I wanted him so much. But it finally donned on me that this whole being incredibly sweet and charming act, was just that. An act. This was Paul McCartney’s normal routine to lull a girl into bed with him. I guess he figured he had to try harder with me since I’m not as easy as, let’s see, November? My daily routine set in as I slipped into what I like to call my Paul Depression (since it’s such a common frame of mind lately). I told George I was getting tired and was going to go to bed. He said goodnight, and I headed upstairs. I cuddled up in the covers all by myself that night and carried through the overplayed scene. As I laid there thinking, the first tear for Paul, of that particular night that is, slid down my cheek and onto the pillow.

On to Chapter 12