𝗕𝗮𝗯𝘆 𝗜𝘁'𝘀 𝗬𝗼𝘂 ❦ (𝗣𝗮𝘂𝗹 𝗠𝗰𝗖𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗻𝗲𝘆)

꧁𝗜 𝗦𝗮𝘄 𝗛𝗲𝗿 𝗦𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲꧂

Paul McCartney, co-lead vocalist, co-songwriter, and bassist for the Beatles was standing only metres away when he turned and saw her standing there.

"Ello." He said rather flustered. "I didn't see you there."

Paul extended a hand, hoping to have the gesture reciprocated but Linda showed no sign of cooperation.

"Have you washed that?" She questioned, putting Paul in a position he never thought possible. Speechless. The boys were all stunned in the background.

His lips slowly curved into a small grin. "Why of course." He winked, taking hold of Linda's hand and leaving a soft lingering kiss on the back. Saving face, Linda thought. "A pleasure miss..?"

"Brown." Paul nodded slowly and stood up straight.

"I'm Paul." The boys all grinned at each other like schoolboys.

"Charming," Linda said rather unenthusiastically as if she wasn't already tired enough and walked off to a chair in the corner of the room. Maybe there she could disappear and succeed with at least part of her plan.

"You're keen." The Beatle scoffed and jumped over and onto the sofa, stretching his legs out over the end. He'd never admit it but that one conversation had left him more insecure than any other.

As Linda pulled out her trusty Agatha Christie, her eyes caught Barbara's little performance as the girl strutted into the room like she owned the whole hotel. It was undoubted, Barbara was an untouchable force and made for a day full of amuses. Hopefully, they were enough to get her through the night.

Linda's eyes also caught Barbara's expression when her eyes met those of George Harrison's, an old flame of hers. There was a whole story where Barbara pretended to be someone else but that was an entirely different plot hole. One that was better left forgotten. Nevertheless, Linda could feel the tension. She could also cut it too if she had a knife big enough.

Susan was already in Ringo's arms when Linda saw her. His hands were squeezing at her bottom so intensely that she wondered whether the man actually thought he was interacting with a sponge instead of an arse cheek.

You're just being bitchy now Linda heard a voice say in her head. Acknowledging the voice, Linda decided it best if she just read her book in the corner and left the others to be sociable. Finding her chapter, she already felt 100x safer and jumped into her reading.

꧁꧂

Laughing and joking around was all fun and games, but Paul couldn't stop glancing at Linda in the corner. She was reading. A confusing and utterly surprising sight. The girl was a complete mystery to him and he couldn't shake their encounter out of his curious mind. He dared to know more about the introverted lass.

Fuck it.

"What are you reading?" He asked, leaning over the sofa to talk to the brunette. To his surprise, Linda didn't even give him a glance or anything for that matter. Completely oblivious and shocking indeed. Paul was left scratching the stubble off of his chin. "Oi." He said a little louder.

Linda lifted her eyes from her page. "You talking to me?" Her tone was hostile, as it usually was when a stranger was trying to talk to her. Especially, when she was reading.

Paul laughed. "Who else would I be talking to?" Linda looked around the room.

"At least 6 other people." She replied.

Paul laughed again. "You're quite funny." He was determined to break down her walls, however, firmly cemented they were. No one could stand the charms of McCartney.

"I try." She monotoned, going back to her book.

Paul watched her for a few moments, talking to himself in his head. Trying to come up with some excuse as to why this girl was ignoring his efforts. It wasn't every day a dashing musician was trying to get to know you.

Fucking hell Paul, come on! Sort your shit out. She's easy. Get this one and you've got em all.

"What book are you reading?" He blurted, quickly pulling a grin as she met his eyes once again.

"Agatha Christie."

"Sounds cool." He said, knowing nothing about an Agatha Christie whatsoever.

"Hmm..." Linda mumbled, clearly in no mood to chit chat. Paul couldn't help but question if his charms had fizzled out or if it was just her being an antisocial bitch. Either way, winning was the only agenda of the night and he would only settle for first place.

"Do you read a lot?" Paul asked after finally coming up with a question to ask her.

"What do you think?" Linda was mind fucked as to why this guy was still trying to communicate with her. Surely, he had got the message. It was as clear as day. Don't talk to me, I don't exist. Maybe he was dumber than he looked.

"I don't know. You're not really saying anything." The last part of his sentence probably sounded more ignorant than he had meant but he couldn't help being a little pissed off by the fact that he was being completely ignored.

What is the point? When you actually try to talk to a girl, they don't even respond. Like fucking hell, do you want me to make an effort or not? John was right when he said, let them come to you.

Paul sighed and poured himself a drink, admitting defeat. This time, anyway. And turned away from her. He took a sip of whiskey, feeling the insecurity rush down his throat, a cascade of emotions all rolled into one.

I'm just nervous about the show, that's all. She's not all that anyway.

In truth, he could get any girl he wanted. He didn't need to worry over one. Especially when there were prettier ones out there waiting for him to come and pick them up. Fuck this one. Not a problem. She'll come chasing after him in due time.

More whiskey. That's what I need. I'm too sober.

Linda glanced at Paul, his back now turned to her. Her mind was in a similar place to his, in the way that she was questioning everything over nothing.

Why was he talking to me? There are other people in the room. I'm in a fucking corner. But he still saw me. Shit. I'm just tired, I need to go to sleep.

Taking her own advice, Linda got up and made her way to the door. Susan and Barbara both watched her leave but didn't say anything. Susan wanted to go after her but a look from Barbara squashed that idea. She'd be fine.

And Linda was fine. She had the key and found the room, easy peasy. Paul wasn't in her mind anymore, or any of the boys. Hell, she didn't even want to be in America in the first place.

A good nights sleep will do the trick. It always does.