I couldn't stop thinking about what Mal had told me for the rest of the day. I just couldn't concentrate on anything else, and George had to call my name three times before I looked at him when we were in a car to the airport after their gig.
"What's gotten into you, Jo?" He asked sweetly, placing his hand on my knee.
"I'm just... thinking," I glanced at the back of Mal's head who was sitting next to the driver.
Mal must've felt my eyes landing on him, because he turned his head to face me that very moment.
"You can't be still thinking about John for god's sake?!" He sighed helplessly.
"Wh-what?" George frowned glancing at Mal and me. "What's he done now?"
I shook my head silently and nestled it against George's shoulder, taking his hand in mine and closing my eyes. He slowly exhaled and planted a kiss in my hair, lingering on it for a long moment.
I tried to fall asleep on the plane, but I couldn't. This time, only a couple of photographers were flying with us, and John kept talking to one of them, a short chubby guy. I wished he'd leave John alone so that I could go and talk to him - after all, we were on a plane so there was nowhere for him to hide or walk away. But they talked and talked, and talked, and I decided that it wouldn't work this time either.
I sighed and leaned back in my seat when a pillow flew over my head and almost hit unsuspecting Brian. I turned my head and saw Ringo and George laughing their heads off. I rolled eyes at them but they motioned their hands for me to come. When I approached them, George's lips curled into a discontented snarl. He grabbed my hand and planted a kiss on my palm, looking up at me.
"Stop it, Jo," George almost pleaded and I knew exactly what he meant.
"But was it something I said or..." my thoughts got distracted when Ringo grabbed another pillow and threw it at John sitting a few feet away.
John turned his face to look in our direction and I could clearly see a big smile fading away when our eyes met, yet his eyes glistened with what seemed to be excitement mixed with panic before he looked away.
"I'm taking you out on a date," George proudly declared once Ringo stood up and went to sit with Paul. "Tomorrow."
George, still holding my hand, pulled me down and into the seat that Ringo had been sitting in. I leaned in and kissed George's neck before finding my way to his lips. I really really liked George, but even then I just couldn't stop wondering what I'd done wrong to earn John's hostility. However, I knew George didn't deserve to constantly listen to me babbling about his bandmate. I spent the rest of the flight seated next to George; we got into a very interesting discussion about reincarnation and the afterlife, and I finally stopped worrying about anything else.
When I woke up in my hotel room the next morning, I knew that Mal was already waiting for me down in the lobby. I quickly got dressed and went to meet him. We were supposed to go shopping for The Beatles since they couldn't leave the hotel, for their own safety. I smiled at Mal when I saw him leaning over the counter and talking to the hotel receptionist. He noticed me walking towards him and matched my smile with one of his one.
"I take it you're in a good mood then?" He asked.
I nodded. I didn't want to burden anyone else with my problems with John; or rather with my disability to understand John who had no problems at all, as far as he was concerned.
We spent the first half of the day out in the city. Mal decided that it wouldn't hurt if we grabbed some lunch and went for a stroll in the central park once we were done shopping, and so we did.
We came back to the hotel at about 4pm and George was already waiting for me in the suite. He grabbed the bags that I was holding and impatiently placed them on the sofa.
"We're leaving," he beamed at me, taking my hand.
"Where?" I giggled, feeling quite confused.
"I'm taking you on a date!"
George was wearing a suit, nothing out of ordinary, but I still wanted to protest against wearing the plainest black dress that I owned to our first date. I wasn't wearing any make up either, but George assured me that I looked as beautiful as ever to him, and who was I to disagree with him. I giggled again, placing a kiss on his cheek and we stormed out into the corridor.
We got downstairs and I merely assumed that we were going to the hotel's restaurant, but George guided me towards the back exit.
"But where are we going?" I asked furrowing my brow as George gently pushed me, urging me to get into the car that was waiting outside.
"Believe it or not, there are places where people are so snobby that they try to pretend they don't know The Beatles. We're going to one of those," he smirked at me.