4 Hours

Chapter 3

I rang the doorbell. Silence. I rang it again, only to get the same response. I knew Mimi would be gone by now, but what could John possibly be doing? While lost in my thoughts, the door opened. But it wasn't John that stood there.

"What do you want?" She asked, adjusting John's shirt that was quite a few sizes too big on her. "I, uh, John. Is he home?" I questioned her, trying not to stare at her chest. She smirked, knowing I was flustered, and opened the door to let me inside. "John! You home?" I yelled, stepping inside. John stepped out of his room, wearing absolutely nothing.

"Claire are you comin' or," he cut off his sentence when he saw me. In a frantic attempt to cover his privates with a vase, we made eye contact. Claire, or whatever that birds name was, giggled. I don't know why, but something about her made me mad. And for the second time that morning, I tried to get as far away from John as possible.

Later, at George's house

"I don't get it Paul. Why do you care that he had sex with random girl? He does it all the time. Plus, this means he isn't gay."" George asked, clearly confused. I wanted to tell him why I was mad, I really did. But that was the thing. I didn't know what made me hate that innocent girl so much. "I don't know, Georgie. Maybe I just need a beer or something" I said halfheartedly, picking myself up from his bed. George started to get up with me , but I stopped him. "Alone" I added. George mumbled an 'alright' and I shuffled away, hands in my pockets.

John's Point of View

"That's right, yeah that's good" I told Claire, or whatever her name was. All I knew was that girl really knew how to drive me crazy. My eyes rolled back into my head, savoring everything she was doing to me. I felt like I was about to pass out when the doorbell rang. "I'll get it" she told me while putting on one of my t-shirts. I nodded and sat back down on the bed. Maybe I could get undressed so we could, uh, move along in the process if you know what I mean.

After waiting for a while, I heard the bird shut the door. I decided to step out and call her. "Claire are you comin' or" I started, but got cut of when I saw who was in the house. It was none other than Paul fucking McCartney. The same bloke I woke up with this morning. For some reason, he was averting his eyes. I was going to ask him why when I remembered. I'm completely naked. I tried to grab a vase in a frantic attempt to hide myself, but before I could say anything he ran out. Of my house. For the second time today.

"Claire, I think you should leave," I told her, throwing her clothes downstairs. She looked down at the floor and pouted. "My name is Cynthia, not Claire" she muttered, leaving to go change. Well, it wouldn't be the first time I got someone's name wrong while in this situation. Paul has been inside my head all day, so it's surprising I didn't even say his name while we were making out. I started off to my room and shut the door. The front door slammed from downstairs, but I was glad she left. Unfortunately, now I was left alone with my thoughts. Alcohol and girls can only be a distraction for so long. Fuck. I have band practice today! I check the clock and sigh. "Well," I say aloud to myself "I've got four hours to explain myself and make Paul mine."