⇾ 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 | 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈

Chapter Seventy-Three: Ding, Ding, Ding! You Win...Nothing!

June 1, 1964

"Ah, back in the studio!" John was looking in the mirror, trying to button up his shirt. "Isn't this great, Donna?"

I came around the corner to take my hairbrush off the counter before running it back through my hair that was still drying from the shower I'd taken about an hour ago. "Yes, it is," I responded, smiling. I like the studio. It was a place where I didn't have to be around so many people. I could handle that.

"Did Brian tell ye that Carl Perkins will be there?" he asked, looking giddy with excitement.

I widened my eyes as I pulled my hair back so I could secure it into a ponytail. "No, I don't think he mentioned that."

"It's cool, isn't it? He wanted to watch us."

"Oh, yeah, that is cool," I responded, securing my hair into place before putting the hairbrush back down and examining my work in the mirror, John slipping past me to go back into the bedroom.

"It looks very pretty," John told me as he returned with his tie in his hands.

"Need some help with that?" I asked him, pointing down to it with a lopsided grin.

He nodded. "Yeah, I probably do."

"Well, come over here." He did. He stepped closer to me and handed over the piece of fabric. I promptly looped it around his neck and began to secure it in place. About halfway through my tying, there was a knock on the door. John and I looked at each other in confusion.

There was no one they could dream of who could've gotten in here that wasn't one of the other boys, but even that'd don't make sense, considering they were all going to meet at the studio in less than two hours.

"I'll get it," I said to him, patting his chest as his tie was completely put in place before slipping around him and out the door.

"Do tell me who it is once you're down there," he said, returning to the mirror to finish getting ready. I slipped my shoes on on the way out the door since they were just a pair of flats.

I trailed down the stairs as I heard the mysterious knock again. Once I made it down there, I looked through the little peephole, alarmed when I saw John's father standing on our porch. I went to ask myself how he even knew we lived here, but then realized it was probably stamped in a hundred magazines by now. For a moment, I didn't know what to do. Maybe if I just stayed here, he'd leave.

Donna, that's rude, my conscience told me, but the other side told me to wait for him to leave and tell John they'd gone away before I could get to the door.

After a millisecond's contemplation, I decided to just opened the door. He had turned to leave when I finally did open it. He jerked back around, seemingly a bit surprised when he saw me.

"So, you do know John," were the first words that came out of his mouth, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

I frowned extensively. "Why are you—?"

"Donna, who is it?"

"Uh—." It turned out that I didn't have to say anything. John had been in the middle of coming down the stairs and by the time he'd gotten down there, I hadn't had time to do why I initially wanted to do, which was slam the door in his face.

John stopped before he reached the bottom of the stairs, leaning one of his elbows on the banister and balancing his head on his hand. "You really don't know when to stop, do you?"

Alf shrugged. "I bet you don't either. Where do you think you got that from?" he shot back.

John looked unamused, to say the least.

"Happy little home you've got here," he commented, looking around at what he could see from the doorway. I still hadn't moved, so he couldn't come any further into the house. I looked at John helplessly. He nodded at me, signaling me to let him in. After that, his eyes met mine for only a brief moment, and then I was all alone again.

"Isn't it?" John asked. "Where're you living these days, Alf?"

Alf stride into the foyer and I closed the door behind him. He looked around curiously. "Nowhere like this, for sure."

"Yeah? I'm sorry about that."

He waved his hand dismissively, moving onto the next topic he wanted to discuss, which was—to my horror—me.

"And tell me all about your girlfriend," he commented, studying me. I shirted uncomfortably.

"Nuh-uh-uh, it's fiancé," corrected John.

Alf looked towards him, impressed. "Yeah? Isn't that just lovely."

John nodded. "It is, isn't it?"

Alf studied the framed pictures he had on the wall. There were ones of John and I, ones of the boys, and the boys with Brian and I. In between almost each of them was a framed golden album or single.

"Been busy, have we?" he asked studying them.

"Yes, we have, but I bet that doesn't surprise you."

"You're everywhere," he responded. "The world just can't get enough of you, can they?"

"No, they can't."

Silence fell over the three of us. A moment later, his eyes landed on the newest picture on the wall—the proposal picture George had taken for us.

"Ah, how sweet. At the beach?" he piped. "I remember when your mother—."

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," snapped John finally, stiffening as he cut off whatever Alf was about to say. "But we've got to get to the studio."

"Yeah?" Alf responded.

"Uh, yeah," John's retaliated, leaning forward on the banister.

"Then, I guess you want me to leave?"

"Ding, ding, ding! You win...nothing!"

Alf frowned. "I hope to be hearing from you again," he said, moving towards the door. I scrambled to open it back up.

"I'll think about it," John mumbled, looking down at his hands.

"Bye," he said as he stepped out the door. When he was far enough away, I slammed it closed.

John and I looked at one another a minute, not fully aware of what had just happened. He looked like he could hit something.

"Well," he said after a moment. "Ready to go get some lunch?"

I opened my mouth, but no words came out, so I simply nodded instead.

"Well, let me grab my guitar."

I went into the kitchen to take my keys out of the bowl on our island, twirling them around to keep my hands busy as I waited for him.

"What a morning," sang John as he returned downstairs.

"Are you okay?" I asked for reassurance.

He looked up to catch my concerned eye and nodded, smiling delicately. "Of course I'm okay."

"If you need to talk—."

"You're here for me," he finished. "I know, love." He sat his guitar by the door and came over to put his arms around me, placing a kiss on my head.

"I love you," I said as I relaxed in his arms.

"I love you too," he responded. "Thanks for always being there."