Elle's POV

How could I have done that?  

And to think I was angry with Paul just for looking at other girls...

If he knew about what happened in the basement, he would have been livid.  I almost kissed George, one of Paul's best mates.  

And the most horrible part about it was I cursed the fact that it was John who walked down the stairs.  For if it would have been Paul, I would pulled George right into my lips, just to feel the satisfaction of seeing the hurt on his face and the tears in his big brown eyes.  

Elle Sullivan, you are evil.  How dare you hurt both Paul and George just to get vengeance.  

Hadn't the Beatles taught you anything?  There was no time for fighting in life.  

Paul had apologized before we left, but it was hard for me to speak to him on the car ride home.  He felt bad, and did every polite thing possible, like holding all the doors open for me, but he had no idea what had happened just hours before.  

I took a bath that night, and after I had put my nightclothes and brushed my teeth, Paul had laid out a place for me on the bed, but was pulling a pillow and one of the blankets downstairs.  

"I thought that you might want me to sleep downstairs tonight." he explained, and then continued to do his own thing.  

I sat on the bed, feeling a horrible concoction of guilt and sadness swirling in my stomach.  Why was I holding something as silly as looking at other girls against Paul?  Just because he took care of me doesn't mean he had to find me the least bit attractive.  

There wasn't much to love about me.  He must have figured that out.  

I laid there for awhile before I realized he wasn't coming back up.  No goodnight hugs.  No laying in his arms as I tried to fall asleep without dreaming of home.  No more little kisses to wake me up in the morning.  

As I stared up at the dark ceiling, I thought of him laying down there, all alone in the cold living room.  Why did he have to be by himself?  

Carrying another blanket and pillows down the stairs, I heard him wiggle around in his covers.  He didn't make a bed for himself on the couch.  He just laid out a little make-shift bed on the floor.  

He must have heard me, because he said, "Where are you going?"  It almost sounded like he meant to say, Please don't leave.

"I'm not going anywhere.  I just got lonely." I replied, remembering that he said the exact same thing in London.  I laid down the blanket so it covered us both, and crawled right next to him.  

The young Beatle spoke in an inquisitive tone.  "Elle, if you could have left tonight..."

"I wouldn't have." I replied, thinking of the almost-kiss.  Well, in truth, both of the almost-kisses.  

Paul shifted his position so that I could see him, and he could wrap his arms around me.  I didn't realize how cold I felt until he held me.  I didn't know if I could feel any more guilt than I was feeling right then.  

You little liar.  How dare you lie next to him and think of kissing George.

I was so close to him, and often wondered how this had happened.  How did I, Elle Sullivan, travel back in time and manage to...stay with Paul McCartney, John Lennon, George Harrison and Ringo Starr?  How did I manage to fall in love-

No, Elle.  No way.  

"The music you were working on today.  It sounded really good.  It reminded of..." I went on to talk about all of their new soon-to-be hits, and how it compared to a lot of older rock and roll.  I could even tell that he was smiling in the darkness.  

"Elle, I love-" He caught himself, and my heart stopped in my chest.  

"Um...I-I love the way you talk about music.  You must really love our work," he said, looking down at the blankets.  My gaze fell also.  

Crawling underneath the covers, I said, "I'm tired, Paul.  Goodnight."

I fell asleep without another word.  But with one last thought.  

Maybe he didn't love me after all.  

Paul's POV

You little coward.  Wake her up and tell her that you love her.  Tell her how much you need her.  Tell her what she means to you.  

Paul could feel her relax in his arms as she fell asleep.  Her body shook as he held her, as if she was shivering from the cold.  The nightmares were getting to her already, and she had only been asleep for an hour.  

Tell her she's beautiful.

Three little words.  

Make her believe she's worth loving.  

He turned her over and kissed her hard, and she didn't react.  It was as though she wasn't even living anymore.  As soon as he pulled away and kissed her again, though, she woke up. 

"Paul," she groaned, "Paul, stop it!"  Elle pushed him away, wiping her mouth.  He felt embarrassed.  Was he really that bad of a kisser?  

"I'm trying to sleep.  What do you want?" 

This wasn't the attitude Paul was expecting.  What was he supposed to say?  I was bored, and I wanted to snog?  

The poor Beatle wasn't getting any sympathy from Elle either.  She scowled at him, awaiting his answer.  He gulped.  

"Elle, I need to tell you something."

"Yes, Paul?" she sighed, leaning back on her pillows.  

"I-I just wanted to tell you that I...I..." he stuttered.  Say it!  Spit it out!

"I want you to that I'm glad that you're here with me," he blurted.  "I'm really glad."

"Is that all?" Elle almost sounded annoyed.  

But I love you.

"No," Paul continued, slightly self-conscious after another one of Elle's sighs.  "And I fancy you."

"You fancy me?"

"Yes.  Very much."

"Very much?" Her tone was inquisitive.  Her blonde hair was playfully messy, and he couldn't help but notice how good she smelled as she rested her head on his shoulder.  Paul nodded in response to her question.  

Elle raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow.  "Really?"

"Yes.  I fancy you a lot."

Elle turned around to face me.  "Do you want to know something?"  Paul's heart pounded.  Was she going to say she loved him too?  Or would she say she loved someone else? 

Like John? 

Not that Paul had anything against John, but it would break his heart if she said she left him for him.  Paul felt like he was going insane with his feelings for Elle.  He had done something he never imagined himself doing.  He had fallen completely and helplessly in love with a girl, who probably didn't love him.  

"Of course, Elle." For some reason, his voice rose a few octaves.  He sounded like he was nine years old again.  

She giggled like a school girl.  "I fancy you too."

 Paul forced a smile.  The poor Beatle's heart felt like it was being crushed with stones.  

Say it now!  Maybe she loves you too and is embarrassed to say so.  

But why would she be embarrassed?  

"Elle?"

"Yes, Paul?"

"I think I might more than fancy you." he chose his words very carefully.  

The expression on her face changed dramatically, and Paul wasn't completely sure if that was a good thing.  But she almost looked calmer and happier.  He didn't think Elle could look more lovely.  

"Really?" She looked down at herself, as if she couldn't find anything that was worth fancying.  Why couldn't she see what he see?  How could he make her see?

Without warning, Paul leaned in and kissed her, leaning over her and lifting her up to meet me.  She held his shoulder, blue eyes closed.  

"You're so beautiful.  I'm the luckiest man in the world to have you as my girl," he whispered into her lips, and moving down to her neck.  But then she pulled away, and rolled over on her side, so she wasn't facing him.  He touched his lips.  Did he do something wrong?

Paul leaned over her, trying to get as close as she would allow.  "Elle?  What's wrong?"  

"Go to bed, Paul."

"Elle-"

"Please, Paul." His love almost sounded like she was about to cry.  It pained him that he hadn't the slightest clue why.  

"Goodnight, love." Paul replied.  

She never replied.  

Elle's POV

Paul thought I was only his girl.  

He said it the same day I almost kissed George.  

I don't deserve either of them.  

If only he knew...