𝐘𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐀𝐘 ── PAUL McCARTNEY

VII. LOVER BOY

Sunday the 30th of September 1958

I laughed when we were kicked out of the Diner, I purely couldn't help it. It would be utterly impossible to get a free meal like that in my day and age. Again, I laughed at the fact that it was raining, cold and miserable when Paul pushed open the door for me, the icy wind caressing my cheeks, while I noticed in his other hand he held what I guessed was a dozen damp napkins clumped in his hand in case my nose started bleeding again –– and I, of course, laughed about the fact my nose still hurt.

John Lennon had one hell of a punch.

Paul wasn't really all that happy about it, I couldn't decide whether it was me taking the punch for him or the fact I had interfered between the two of them. I could see it on the expression his rounded cute face carried. He'd lectured or well, scolded me like I was a child for the whole five minutes we sat on the white and black checkered tiles before we were kicked out. It was difficult to take him seriously, he was just so young and pretty, it was a major distraction. Yet again, it did make me feel insanely guilty and regretful for my spur of the moment actions.

"Daisy in the future please don't do that again yer gave me a heart––," Paul started but he was cut off by John.

"Shut up Macca ye daft cow, nobody cares. We didn't have to pay." John remarked, with a sly grin at Paul as he bumped his shoulder with Pauls. I noticed that it didn't help and I took matters into my own hands.

"See it's fine Paul!" I grinned from the left side of Paul, removing the napkin and showing him my nose that was unknowingly smudged in my own dried blood. Paul grimaced at the sight of it and it made me grimace too.

I turned to George who was beside me, knowing that he'd tell me the truth, "Is it that bad?" It made him chuckle and his glimmering brown eyes met mine, his voice enriched with a slight sarcasm, "No, Daisy. I just wouldn't remove the napkin."

"Thanks, George. You could have just told me it was bad. I'm not some prissy little princess who can't handle being punched in the face. I'm Australian for gods sake!" Before George could say anything John loudly snorted through his nose at my words and I craned my neck over Paul's side to look at him.

"Hey! You weren't the one that got in hit in the face by you, John Lennon!"

It surprised me that he turned to me, not ignoring me as an unreadable look washing over his face and in the dark it was impossible to read his eyes, "Look Hawaii, its ye own bloody fault ye stepped in. And I'm not going to say sorry just because ye a girl."

"I know that and it was my fault," I spoke through gritted teeth, my jaw clenched. "But I honestly thought you were going to fight and Paul had done nothing wrong. I...I wanted to stop it."

John snorted, kicking stones along the path as we all walked further away from the diner and to the bus stop, "Little goody two-shoes — course ye stick up for ye pretty, baby faced lil' lover boy, aye?"

"Hey, that's mean! I'm still growing, y'know?!" Paul protested in a defensive manner, but I ignored his words due to the fact that George roared with laughter but closed his mouth when Paul playfully jumped him, the two of them almost toppling onto the sidewalk.

"It was the right thing to do and for your information, he isn't my lover boy," I spoke, curling my fingers into fists the pocket of my raincoat. Liverpool was always so rainy and cold and wet. It made me miss home way too much. I missed the sun. Everything felt wrong here. I missed my grandma and my dad and my friends Max and Ellie.

John sort of smirked in a way he looked as if he knew something I didn't. It was rather unsettling in my gut and I hated it. "We'll see Hawaii. Just ya wait."