I woke up the next morning groggy and sleepy-eyed. Understandably so; after all, I had only gone to bed about three hours earlier. Paul's strong arms were still wrapped securely around mine, and seeing his face so calm and serene somehow soothed me. I snuggled my chin under Paul's and breathed in the husky male odor. I sighed dreamily, content and happy. But this little noise awoke Paul, whose dark brown eyes opened even slower than mine had as he yawned and stretched his legs out. I grinned.
     "Rise and shine, sleepyhead," I teased him. Paul winked at me.
     "It was hard sleeping knowing that you were beside me, ya know. Give me a little credit!" I blushed.
     "Ahhh, you McCartneys are always digging for sympathy. Poor baby..." I mussed his hair playfully and he wagged a finger at me.
     "Hey, baby, you better watch it. We McCartneys are always digging for fun as well."
     "Try me!" I taunted him, "you can't do anything anyway, I'm quite a good fighter on the quiet!" Paul laughed, enjoying this little game.
     "Are you?"
     "Well, of course!" I put up my fists. Paul looked away, apparently smiling into the distance. But then, before I realized what was happening, he turned to me again and, in an expertly-planned move, pounced on top of me and pinned my arms over my head so that I was lying helpless on the couch. I giggled.
      "Hey, no fair, I wasn't ready!" Paul pursed his lips mock-apologetically.
      "I'm sorry, luv, is it in the rules for me to give you warning?" He grinned, and began to pull my shirt slowly out of my skirt. I pulled against his hold, but couldn't move. Paul had a strong hold on me!
       "Let go of me!" I tried to sound mad, but my exclamation faded once more into a weak giggle. Paul's grin grew ever wider as he began to enjoy himself even more.
       "There's a lot I could do to you in this position!" He teased me.
       "Like you would!"
       "You doubt it?"
       "Yeah, now that you mention it!" Paul shrugged, (his grin had spread to both sides of his face by now,) and he swiftly slipped one hand under my shirt, and trailed it up my stomach to my bra. I trembled, half wanting to pull away, but half needing for him to continue. I didn't have much choice, because the buzzer to Paul's gates rang at that moment. Paul groaned with frustration and I laughed,
        "Ha ha, look who won!" He rolled his eyes and let go of me to answer the door. As he walked off I could hear him muttering,
        "All right, who will I kill today?............." Shaking my head to wake myself up, I tucked my shirt into my skirt once more and pulled my hair out of its ponytail. I headed upstairs to change clothes and better my appearance for whoever the caller was. Odd for someone to be coming over at this hour, I concluded, it was, after all, no more than seven o'clock in the morning.
         Having changed up, I gave myself a quick check in the mirror before heading on down to politely greet the visitor, and thank him/her from stopping Paul when I couldn't! But halfway down the staircase I froze. There, at the bottom, was a girl with red hair, talking angrily to Paul. A girl who I had seen several times before in magazines. Her name was Jane Asher. Without realizing it, I emitted a small squeak of surprise and humiliation, and she turned up to me. Paul, (standing beside her,) also looked up and froze at the sight of my then-pale face. A tear trickled down from Jane's eye as she stared at me, staring back at her.
          "Paul...." she began, "how......who........" My mouth fell open and I felt my eyes start to mist over with tears as I felt the pain for Jane, and for myself, combined. I stuttered an apology,
          "Ms....Asher.....oh, God, I'm so sorry!" Then I felt the tears began to pour as I backed up to the room in which I was staying, and flung myself onto the bed. The voices of Jane and Paul downstairs began to rise as they launched into a full-fledged argument. I grabbed two pillows and slammed them hard onto my ears, squeezing my eyes tight, trying my utmost to block out the fight. I succeeded so well in doing so, that I didn't hear the door slam as Jane stormed out, or hear as Paul walked slowly upstairs into my room. I only realized that he was there when his hand gently pried away the pillows from my head, and raised my tear-streaked face to meet his apologetic gaze. I met his eyes with a ferocious glare. If Jane hadn't come, he would have....to me....and all the time he had a girlfriend? How could he do something like that to me? To Jane? And I thought that he cared about me.....
           "Allegra...." I tore my eyes away from his, and ignored the pleading gaze. "Please, honey, let me explain...."
           "Paul, what the hell was that? Is Jane still your girlfriend? I'm just a side thing that you happened to pick up? I'm sixteen years old, Paul, I don't know about this kind of stuff! I trusted you! And so did she!" Paul took my hand in his.
           "No, but you don't understand. I think that it really is over. I don't know why she came...she had some excuse, I can't remember it now. Please believe me, it's over between me and Jane!" 'Jane and me', I triumphantly corrected him, in my head. "Please, Legs, come on now..." He slid his hand through my hair. I was beginning to believe him, but in my head I still was in the process of actually realizing what I was doing.
           "Paul...." I said slowly, trying to collect my thoughts. He jumped and was by my side in an instant. Maybe he thought I was going to kiss him. If so, he must have been surprised with what I continued on saying. "Paul, you're...twenty-four years old. And I'm sixteen. Even if I wanted....even if....we couldn't! You're eight years older than I am! I'm not even out of highschool!"
           "Ah, but you forget, m'lady, that I also happen to be a famous Be-atle. Nobody would care." His arm was circling my waist reassuringly.
           "But....my parents....my family....what would they say?" Paul's hold on me tightened.
           "Is that what you're worried about?"
           "One of the many things, yes."
           "What else?"
           "Well...." I let myself smile coyly, having relaxed, "you still haven't said that you love me..."
           "Ahhh....you little devil, you. All right, then, here you go." Paul got down on one knee and dramatically took one of my hands in his. I giggled self-consciously. Seriously, Paul stared into my eyes and told me quietly.
           "I, James Paul McCartney, do hereby pledge my love to Allegra Anne Masters, and do solemnly swear to be a very loyal boyfriend...just as long as you'll make me a fish and finger pie sometime for breakfast..." Paul's smile was openly challenging. Obviously 'fish and finger pie' meant something, what exactly I didn't know. But I didn't care at all. "Will you, Allegra, be my girl?"
           "Of course..." I wrapped my arms around his neck and gazed down at him. Paul smiled back at me and, while on one knee, raised himself high enough on balance to kiss me gently. I breathed in slowly, trying to savor the moment for as long as possible. But by then, Paul had stood up again. He handed me a tissue from the small table next to the bed so that I could wipe away my drying tears. And then, together, we headed downstairs. Halfway between one step and another, I began to wonder what Jane Asher would do when she found out that Paul had taken another girl.....
           Having finally made it downstairs, Paul turned to me, smiling brightly,
           "Well," he said, "now that that mess is worked out, let's call your parents. I can't believe I never thought of that before...it would have made it so much easier on you! Why didn't you tell me yourself?" I looked down at the ground.
           "They're not home," I said, shuffling my feet.
           "Where are they, then?"
           "Italy...or maybe Germany by now."
           "Shit...so much for that. Hold on a minute though, luv, if they're not home...then how long are you here for?"
            "Meaning England? A year." Paul's mouth dropped open as his eyes started to gleam with excitement. He clapped once in happy surprise and spun me around him.
            "LEGS, YOU NEVER TOLD ME YOU WERE HERE FOR A BLOODY YEAR!"
            "You never asked!" I retaliated.
            "Ah, this is ****in' fantastic! Just stay here, then! You don't have to go home or anything like that..."
            "But, Paul....the others..."
            "What 'others' are you referring to?" I laughed with the absurdity of it all.
            "The other Beatles, dumbo! You've gotta record! And...and all the reporters...they'll think we....well..." Paul was grinning wickedly.
            "Think we what?" I cuffed him on the ear.
            "Shuddup, Paul, you know what I mean! They'll say I'm your girlfriend and 'she's only sixteen years old' will be the newest headline! I don't wanna be the Slut of the Year!"
            "Who gives a **** what they think?" Paul whirled me around again. "Hey, you can come to the studio....hang out with Cyn and Patti, they're great girls, you know."
            "Yes, I know Cyn's nice....but what about my clothing and everything else? It's all at some hotel." Paul reached for the phone.
            "What's the name of the place?"
            "'Spring Inn'." Paul got the bit of a pun instantly, and was still smiling as he dialed a number. "'Ello? Yeah, hi Alf. Eh, mate, could you do me a favor...................."