Something Like Love

Chapter Twenty

It was around late evening when the two lads finally left the ice cream parlor. John had spent all of his money-- which wasn't very much-- on ice cream sundaes and an ice cream cone, all for Paul. John didn't really want any. Therefore, he let Paul eat all of the ice cream he wanted.

Paul, who was now full of sugar, was all smiles and giggles coming out of the shop. He had chocolate all over his face, and, somehow, he had a bit of whipped cream in his hair. John smiled at the sight, not at all upset about spending his all of his money on his Paulie.

"John, I'm cooold," Paul whined, still giggling a bit. He knew he was a fool for eating all of that ice cream, especially at this time of year.

"And whose fault is that, then? You shouldn't have stuffed your face with all of that frozen dessert, ya fat arse."

"You shouldn't have bought it all for me, then."

"Well you wanted it," John replied. "So, me, being a good boyfriend, I bought it ye."

"Yes, and I appreciate that, but 'm still cold," Paul said, rubbing his arms with his hands in an attempt to warm himself up.

"Here, take me bloody jacket." John took off his leather coat, and draped it over Paul's shoulders. Paul wrapped it around himself tighter, taking in the warmth with a satisfied smile.

They walked on in a comfortable silence. It was very peaceful and relaxing, like there was nothing in the world to worry about. At least, Paul couldn't think of anything to stress over. Except, there was one thing he couldn't get off of his mind. Pete Shotton.

The name sounded vaguely similar. It sounded like a name that had been locked away in a chest and thrown into the sea, never to be seen or spoken of again. But, here it was, gnawing away at Paul's head. Who the hell was he?!

Now, Paul could just ask John who he was. But, John would say "he's just a friend" and be done with it, just like he did the last time.

'Hell, it's worth another shot.'

"So, who exactly is this Shotton lad, anyway?"

"Why do you care so much, Macca? I've told you, he's just an old friend."

Paul sighed, trying to figure out a way to get John to tell him who Pete really was.

"Yes, I know. I mean...which old friend?" Paul tried. John chuckled, deciding on giving Paul a key detail about the mystery friend.

"The blonde pillock."

Paul thought for a moment. He didn't know many people with blonde hair. Most of the blondes he knew weren't even friends with John, though, so this would be easy.

"Do I know him?" Paul wanted to make sure he knew this fellow before playing this little guessing game.

"Oh, yes. I believe you've had a few encounters with him. Very recently, actually."

Recently? The only blonde bloke he's had an encounter with recently was...

No.

No no no no no. It was not him. It couldn't be him. John wouldn't-

Paul stopped walking and stood in the middle of the sidewalk, getting in the way of liverpudlians trying to reach their destination. John stopped walking, too, and turned around to give Paul a befuddled look.

"Is it...is it him?" Paul asked in a sort of whisper. He didn't mean to whisper, it just came out that way.

John knew what he talking about and nodded his head. "Yes."

"You're friends with him?!" John nodded once again, feeling a pang of guilt, but ignored it. "But he hurt me!"

"Paul, can we have this conversation when we get home?"