When John came to visit Mom and I a while later, after he had moved out into his own apartment, he told us he and the band were going to Hamburg, Germany for a few months. He said that they could be longer, which made me sad. I wouldn't see John until he got back, since I was in college now and couldn't just hop on a plane or a boat and go to see them.

     On Friday, the day before they left, I went to visit Paul. He was my best friend, other than John. When he wasn't with his parents or the band, he was with me. It had been that way since Aunt Julia's funeral. We were nearly inseparable.

     I was going to miss him. Not as much as I would miss John, but pretty close. My feelings had grown since that day at the fair. I wanted to tell him, but what good would it do now? He was leaving tomorrow and wouldn't be back for who knows how long.

     "Are you excited?" I asked him from my spot on the couch. He was sitting next to me, lightly strumming his guitar. I feel selfish for wanting him to say no. I wanted him to tell me that he would miss me and that he wanted to stay, but I knew that wouldn't happen.

     "Yeah, but I'm going to miss Liverpool," he replied, jotting down a few notes in his notebook. He looked up at me, smiling.

     "I'll miss you guys when you're gone," I told him. He put down his guitar and slung his arm around my shoulders. He did it all the time, so it didn't mean anything special.

     "Don't worry, we'll be back in a flash, and you'll be able to see John again," he responded. I laid my head against his chest and brought my stocking feet up beside me on the couch.

     "John's not the only one I want to see," I sighed, deciding that it was now or never, "I want to see you." When he didn't answer, I looked up at him, seeing that he was already staring down at me. I lifted my head from his chest and leaned up to peck him on the cheek. Instead, he moved his head and kissed me full on. I cupped his face with my hand, slowly moving it down onto his chest. My other hand was on the back of his neck, playing with the ends of his hair. He moved his arm from my shoulder onto my waist. He used his other hand to push my curls away from my face.

     I felt as if my head was going to burst with all of the thoughts zooming around it. His lips were soft, I noticed as they molded together perfectly. My heart was racing and I could hear it in my ears. His thumb was rubbing my waist, making shivers go up my spine.

     Soon, we pulled back. His lips looked slightly fuller. Our breathing was heavier than usual. He leaned down again, crashing his lips against mine. It wasn't as gentle or shy as the previous one, but it was nice all the same. I heard the door open and close again, but we ignored it.

     "What's all this then?" John practically shouted, standing frozen in the doorway. We separated and looked at him, then at each other, and finally back at him.

     "Hello, Johnny," I smiled at him, acting as if nothing had happened. He gave me a pointed look, letting me know that I wasn't getting off that easily. He turned to Paul and spoke to him in a low and threatening voice.

     "I swear, McCartney; you do anything to hurt her, you're a dead man." I knew that Paul was intimidated, but he put on a brave face and stood up, moving so he was in front of John.

     "I'll never hurt her. If I do, you have my permission to kick my ass all the way to Mars," he responded. John smirked and held out his hand, which Paul took and shook, smiling.

     "I'll hold you to that," John reminded him, then grinned, "Welcome to the family, Paul."