Chapter Five...
Title: I’ve Just Seen A Face: Chapter Five (Dash)
Author: thetenwords
Rating: R sexual situation, profanity, and violence
Plot: Anne is your average small-town girl who gets herself caught up in her own version of her favorite fanfic, “Living Lennon”. Things don’t go like she planned and all she knows is she won’t forget her life before or after this bittersweet experience…
Warning: READ LIVING LENNON BEFORE YOU READ THIS STORY!!!! This isn’t a sequel, but it will help you kind of understand the plot. Plus, it’s a kick-ass story.
Disclaimer: As often as I check eBay, the Beatles are never ACTUALLY for sale. So I don’t own them. (Yet.)
The shopping trip had been a success. I had always wondered why I was seeing everyone wearing Converse, namely Anne, but now I knew why. They were comfortable. And they look pretty pimp.
“Get yer damn Converse off ma dash!”
“Sorry.” I take my shoes off of the dashboard. I’ve noticed that she has a strong southern accent when she’s annoyed.
“Thank you.” Her accent has vanished, which is always a good sign. “That wasn’t s’ bad, now was it?”
I shrug. “Guess not.”
“Good. Because we can go home and I can have my damn sweats back.” She giggles in the flirty way.
“So yer not plannin’ on takin’ me back anymo’?” I ask.
She sighs. “ Now, George, if I was going to take you back, do you think I would ask you out? Or take you shopping? Or make out with you?”
I shrug. “Maybe you’d make out with me. I dunno.”
I see a pair of teal grey eyes rolling in her pretty little head. “With me, no.”
“So… yer attracted to me? A lit’le?”
She almost stops the car. “Yes. I… always have been. You’ve been my favorite Beatle since I was in seventh grade.”
Really?” I’m amused by this bit of information. There’s silence until I get comfortable in my thoughts, and I hear a strong southern accent.
“Git yer damn Converse off ma daysh!!!”
………… (Switching the perspective to Anne)
I open the door, and I see him sprawled on the couch with a mini container of Blue Bunny Peanut Butter Panic ice cream. I have been thinking of Living Lennon an extra amount since George was transported 48 years into the future. But a dead Beatle sitting on a couch eating ice cream after I come home from work is just apparently only something Chelsy and I would have seen. I can’t help but think of Living Lennon because of it. I’ve also been thinking of the guy in Star Wars: Episode II who says, after being mind-tricked by Obi-Wan, “I need to go home and re-think my life.” But hey, it’s me here. I don’t know why I think what I do because I’m either weird or cool like that.
“Weh wuh oo?” he points a very accusing spoon at me.
“Swallow and repeat, dear. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”
“I said where were you?”
I take my messenger bag off of my shoulder and set it on the floor. “Work. Sorry, I forgot to mention it. I’m a writer. A columnist, if you will. There are only 24.4 percent of female columnists today. Did you know that?”
He looks at me, almost blankly. “O. Ah di-n’t.”
I nod, looking around to see my loft isn’t as trashed as I thought. Sure, some couch cushions are askew. And there’s an empty bag of chips on the floor, but it’s not the chaos I anticipated. I haven’t seen any rabid squirrels running loose, which seems to always be a good sign.
“What are you watching???”
He swallows. “I don’t know, but it seems to have a theme song with a pirate, a sponge, and a pineapple in it. Spongebob PrismPants or something.”
I smack my forehead. “Spongebob SQUAREpants!!! I can’t believe you watched Nickelodeon!” I roll my eyes and laugh at the preposterousness of the situation and its entirety. “Never mind. What’s with Squidward?” I kick off my heels and sit next to him on the couch, cuddling just the slightest bit.
“Oh, him. He’s an arse.”
My mouth drops open. “He is NOT! He’s just constantly annoyed by people who don’t have the IQ to make a jam buttie! All he wants is to be able to play his clarinet in PEACE!”
“THAT wretched thing? He can’t even PLAY the damned thing!”
“Well, it’s not a Selmer! That’s why! It’s the instrument! Not the musician!”
“Whatever.” He does a man-giggle, leaning closer to me.
“See!” I point to the screen, “He’s doing it right! G, E, G, B! That’s how you’re supposed to do it!”
He stares at me, inching toward my face. “You play clarinet?”
“For seven years in the school band. Apparently I was above average. But nowhere near exceptional.” I let out a flirty giggle as I play with his bangs, which have been fortunately deprived of that stupid grease and combed forward in sort of an emo-style, to buy some time.”
“Serenade me, then.” And I feel those damned soft lips on mine… and I’m pulled into his spell. If he weren’t so damn hot, this wouldn’t be a problem. “Serenade me…”
Tongues snake in, and I feel his hand on my thigh right below where my pencil skirt ends. This, okay, is more like my knee, but still… “Stop.” I brush the hand off, and sit up, still cuddling him.
“Play me something, Anne. On your clarinet.”
“George, I sold it. I’ve graduated from high school. Two years ago.”
“You’re twenty?!?”
“Nineteen.”
“Oh. I dropped out.”
I nod. “I know. You weren’t exactly my best choice in an educational influence. But you didn’t need it in the end…” I trail off, looking at him closely.
He does the same to me, before quickly saying, “What?”
“You’re just… attractive.”
He is quiet for a bit, and he shifts forward toward the television, with his arm around me. We watch the misadventures of a squid, a sponge, and a starfish, until his quietly leans toward my ear, and whispers in it, “You are, too.”
I look at him, kiss him, and we do so for about ten minutes straight. I finally look him straight in his pair of liquidy bronze eyes, and ask him a question I never thought I would ask. The question I thought only Chelsy, Effie, Carter, and any other of the characters from my favorite fanfics would dare to ask.
“George?”
“Mmm?”
“Do… do you want to have sex?”
He stops abruptly, leans his head back, and stares at me for a second. “Do YOU?” he chokes. And I nodd, my tongue accidently touching my teeth behind open lips.
“Then we should probably get up and--”
I get up silently from the couch, turn off the television, ending the never-ending stupidity of Patrick and Spongebob, and walk off, unbuttoning my shirt as I did so.
He makes a mad dash to follow me.
Not a long chapter... It's just one of those things I had to get out of the way.... I'll have a longer chapter next time. :P