"Well, that was forward," Julie said.
"If Paul finds out about this, he's gonna kill me," George muttered. He turned around. "Watch it bub- oh, 'ullo, Johnny."
"Hullo. Having fun?" John asked.
"I guess," George said. "But could you be more careful?"
The song ended, and Julie broke away. For some strange reason, George wished that she hadn't. A faster song began and they resumed their normal dance. All of a sudden, George wasn't afraid to take Julie's hand and twirl her around. All of a sudden, Julie wasn't afraid to twirl around when George took her hand. It was strange, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. Either that or they both sat in something.
Julie and George were both exhausted after another hour. They had worked up a terrible thirst, so they danced out of the crowd and over to a table. Stirring the ice in her glass with her straw, Julie sneaked looks at George when he wasn't paying attention. He looked especially cute when he was in deep thought. George glanced at Julie when she had her head turned. She looked especially elegant from a profile.
The night was going along very well in both of their opinions. But then, along came the needle to puncture George's balloon. He was looking all around, something he had a nasty habit of because it usually led to trouble. His eyes just happened to fall on a dancing couple. And the night was now officially ruined. Because it was no ordinary dancing couple. It was Andrew and Ellen.
Ellen...Ellen...Ellen...The name repeated itself in George's mind, like an echo bouncing off the walls of a canyon. Ellen Canterbury, which George was hoping one day be known as Ellen Harrison. Ellen whom he had told deep secrets to and shared many wonderful times with. Ellen whom he had loved dearly and would have laid down his life for, if he ever got the chance. Ellen whom had betrayed him and left him with a bunch of broken pieces scattered in front of him. George wondered, were those broken pieces his heart?
"Ellen!" George jumped and saw it was Julie.
"Ellen?" Julie asked.
George sighed. "I don't suppose Paul told you?"
"About what?" Julie looked sincerely worried.
George looked down. "Ellen was the reason Paul chose me to be your escort," he replied.
"What was wrong with her?" Julie apparently wanted George to get to the point.
"See- she was my girlfriend. And, well, last Friday, she met that big brute she's dancing with now, and that's why I left early." He sighed again.
"Oh," Julie replied softly. Now that she knew, it sort of ruined her evening. Poor guy.
Ellen's flaming green eyes turned towards them. George hid his mouth and nose in his glass and closed his eyes. Julie looked away too.
When George thought Ellen had looked away from him, he looked back up at her. Ellen was still looking at him. Great- now she knew he still was aching for her. And if Ellen had stayed the same, she would use Andrew to use it against him.
A few minutes later, Julie was looking up at George with a scared expression. "Don't look behind you," she said.
George didn't have to. The strength of the jerk (and we do mean jerk) that lifted him up into the air by the back of his collar was obviously Andrew. The loud guffaw gave it all away. George froze. Should he fight and make a fool and bloody mess of himself? Or should he stay passive and still risk becoming a bloody mess? Did Andrew think he was some kind of pretzel to be twisted into torturous positions? Or perhaps a pincushion, if he was in a good mood.
The helpless Beatle looked at Ellen. There didn't seem to be any sympathy in those emerald eyes. Oh, how painful it was- emotionally and physically! Then George saw Julie, and he could tell by the look on her face that she would have helped him if she could. But Andrew could just flick her off like a fly. And he could also flick George off like a beetle. Or was that a Beatle?
Only one possibility left, George thought, scanning the crowd again. But it was to no avail. John was all the way across The Club, dancing like crazy. Apparently his blisters had gotten better, or else he was deliberately avoiding the situation.
There was another loud guffaw, and George was dropped to the floor. "Oof!" Andrew forcefully brought his boot down on George's stomach, knocking all the air out of him. Thus, he could not breathe. George's face began to turn red as Andrew spilled his drink all over the helpless Harrison. But don't think George was laying there. He was kicking his legs hard and squirming as much as he could. Andrew's boot held firm. George was losing air.
"What do you have to say for yourself?" Andrew asked.
"Ughh...get...off!" George sat up all of a sudden and Andrew lost his footing.
"Nice work, David, but Goliath's not finished with you yet," Ellen smirked, leading Andrew away.
All of a sudden John came along. "Did I miss something?"
George glared at him and stood up. "I've got a good mind to smack you upside the head, Johnny. Didn't you see me across the place?"
"Yeah, I saw," John said.
"Then why didn't you come over here?" George brushed himself off and sat back down.
"'Cause I know you, George. You got out of it yourself, didn't you?" John sat down as well.
"Excuse me," Julie interrupted the bickering Beatles. "Mr. Harrison, are you all right?"
"Think so," George replied.
"So what's with Paul?" Julie asked. "How's he?"
"Grumpy," John said. "Sits in a chair all day moping."
Julie checked the clock. "It's almost midnight," she said with a yawn. "We should go back."
"Fine with me. Come on." George, John, and Julie walked through the mass of dancing people and George picked up his jacket. He cracked up again. Julie shook her head and smiled.
"Hey, Sir George, there's still puddles out there," John said. "Gotta put that jacket to use." And so the date actually ended on a high note.
John sat in the car, bored. How he hated these awkward first-date goodbyes. Julie and George were standing on the porch, speaking very slowly and nervous.
"So...um...you have a good time?" George scratched the back of his neck.
"Yeah!" Julie exclaimed all of a sudden.
"I, uh...did, too," George smiled. "Wish Paul coulda been here."
"Yeah," Julie repeated.
"So, uh, guess I'll see you next Friday? Unless, um..." George turned around nervously.
"Yeah," Julie said. "Bye, Mr. Harrison." She walked inside.
"See you. Oh, and one more thing."
Julie turned around.
George looked down and shuffled his feet. "Could you just call me George?"
Julie smiled and walked back inside. George walked to the car. He got inside and leaned back in the drivers' seat with a sigh.
"What's wrong?" John asked.
"How am I going to tell Paul this?" George shook his head. "Don't you tell him, either."
"Tell what?" John leaned over, as if George was telling him the meaning of life.
"How am I going to tell Paul that I think I'm in the L-word?" George sighed again.
John frowned. "London? He knows you're in London, doesn't he? He's in London too. We're all in London, George. What's wrong about that?"
"Not London," George said. "You got the first two letters."
"L-o...Lollipop? Lowland? Lombard? Loathe? Locality? Lobotomy? Lobster? Lobby? Lock? Lordship? Loyal? Logarithm? Love seat?" John was clearly confused.
"The last word," George said. "Repeat it."
"Love seat," John said. "A small sofa or double chair that seats two people."
"Really, Johnny," George said, annoyed, "you're extremely close. How could I be in love seat with Julie?"
John jolted in his seat and his facial expression said that he couldn't believe what he had just heard. "You mean the L-word? You're in love? And it's only the first date too!"
"Don't tell," George said sternly, "because if Paul finds out I'll know who told him and I won't be happy."
"Only if I get to rib you about it," John said.
George grimaced. "Oh well, I guess so. Just as long as it's not in front of Paul."
"Hey, would I lie to you?" John asked.
"If your life depended on it," George said, starting the car. On the way back home, John entertained George with exactly eleven refrains of the George-and-Julie-sitting-in-a-tree song. George hunched forward and clenched the steering wheel. He only wished that he could hide in a tree until all this blew over.