Connie had never been happier with a decision than the one she'd made hours earlier to sneak into the Beatles' concert that night. Though she heard very little of it due to the screams of the fans, watching from the wings seemed to make it feel even more special than the night before, as if she was part of the action. It was amazing to watch them on stage performing, and as they took their final bows and the curtains fell to the sound of the cries from the crowd, she felt herself become overcome with excitement, unable to hold back a proud grin.

"You bloody beautiful bastards!" Connie screamed in excitement as the boys ran off stage, the grin that was plastered on her face only growing as Paul ran into her, hugging her tightly as he lifted her off the floor, spinning her.

"Don't drop her, Macca," John warned as he took his guitar strap off his shoulder, handing it over to one of their stagehands, rolling his eyes as he watched the two who were acting as if they were still the teenagers from Forthlin Road. "Remember she's the one who's got the ciggies and you've probably just squashed 'em all,"

As Paul set her down on the floor once more, Connie shot John a joking glare as she reached into her inside pocket, fishing out the box of cigarettes and throwing them over to her cousin. He caught the box, pulling a funny face at her to show his gratitude. That was when she turned her attention onto the other two Beatles, reaching over to ruffle Ringo's hair though the drummer ducked nervously, obviously remembering all the nights that she'd jokingly whack him with her tea towel back in the Cavern days. George, however, followed in Paul's footsteps by sweeping her into a tight hug. She felt her insides twist ever so slightly as he held her, squeezing her arms in excitement, but for once she didn't care.

She'd spend a long time forcing the twinges of her crush away, and she was sick of it. Maybe it was the adrenaline of watching them perform, or the excitement of seeing him again after being apart for so long, or the thought of what they'd done the night before, but in that moment, Connie really wanted to kiss George. Where the courage to come to that conclusion had come from, she was unsure, but she just knew that if she didn't do it soon, she would lose faith and would cower away like she usually did. She couldn't kiss him in front of the others though, the embarrassment of kissing George in front of Paul and Ringo would be immeasurable, not to mention the fact that John would throw a fit, so instead whilst the other lads were too concerned with debating what club they could go to to celebrate without getting harassed, Connie pulled out of the embrace though kept her body in his hold, keeping her face close to his as she looked at him daringly, biting her lip.

"Bugger the rest of them, I want to talk to you, Georgie," she muttered quietly to him, pushing her forehead against his, and though she couldn't really see his face she could tell he was smirking.

Understanding what she meant, George nodded, moving his hands off her only to take her hand and, without the rest of the group noticing, led her away backstage. Their hands still interlocked, George said nothing and Connie daren't speak up either. She was far too focused on her heartbeat, which was racing inside her chest, not to mention her head was spinning though she'd not even drank anything. She wondered if she should have drank something, something to at least put her nerves at ease, but for once she wanted to talk to him sober. That thought seemed to only make things worse though, and she began to feel the doubts creeping in, reminders of the fact that George was meant to just be her friend cropping up in her mind. For a moment she considered pulling her hand free and leaving to find the others, except before she got chance to do that George had led her down to their dressing room, guiding her in before he locked the door behind the two of them.

Alone and hoping that they would be undisturbed, George made quick work of his desires and pushed Connie up against the wall, planting his lips against hers passionately. The suddenness of the kiss took her back slightly to the extent that he heard her let out a small squeal, but it was definitely one of pleasure as she moved her hands to his body, one of them gripping the back of his neck, her short fingernails digging in to his flesh as she pulled him down closer to her. His own hands were on her waist, holding her body against his, though he was hoping she wouldn't be able to feel him growing hard for her. His hopes were in vain, however, and Connie smirked against his kiss as she felt it, instantly considering acting upon it, but before she had the chance, George had pulled his lips away from hers.

Instead he was lacing gentle kisses down her jaw, making her lean her head back the exact way she had done the night before. The kisses got more rough the further down her neck he got, until he reached the sweet spot just above her collar bone, making her sigh in enjoyment. He was going to give her another love bite, that was for sure. As much as she hated to stop him, she couldn't wear Paul's jumper two days in a row, so she placed her hands on his chest and he instantly withdrew, though his hands remained hovering over her hips.

"Sorry..." he muttered sheepishly, flushing bright red as she looked at the floor. "I just thought... I just wanted..."

"You've no need to be sorry," she shook her head with a small smile. "I want it too. I've missed you Georgie... Two bloody years away from you all, I can't do it again, I don't want to be apart from you like that again,"

As she spoke, George led her over to the small, scruffy looking sofa in the corner of the dressing room, and they were sat so close Connie may as well have been sat on his lap. Still, that wasn't close enough for her, even with one of George's hand on her knee. It was as if she wanted to make up for lost time and be near him, so she lent over and kissed his cheek, her hand on his face as her thumb stroked his jawline. It felt strange to be like that whilst sober, but it felt right too, especially as his own hand went to her chin, moving her face to look him straight on as he kissed her once more.

It began to get more passionate, George's hand drifting from her knee to her inner thigh, and before Connie knew it his other hand was unbuttoning her shirt, opening it up to expose her bra. Her own hands were knotted in his hair, pulling him closer to her until she couldn't bare it any longer and instead moved her hands to his shoulders, pushing him down into a laying position as she made her way to sit on his hips. She couldn't imagine that particular position pleasing him much, considering the drunken memories of him before told her that he preferred to be the dominant one, but it was a spur of the moment thing and he stared up at her with a daring, hungry look. That look told her that she was doing something right, so she lent down to him, but before she could do anything, he pulled his lips from hers, his hand moving from her chest to her shoulder, nudging her gently to stop.

"Con," he said with a sigh, and she was so close she could feel his breath against her cheek. "Con, I need to talk to you,"

Feeling her head spin, Connie wondered if this was the moment, if he was about to repeat what he'd told her the night before when he thought she was asleep. She felt a buzz of nerves run through her and, eager to hear what he was so desperate to tell her, she sat up quickly, scooting over off his lap as he sat up too, though their legs were still intertwined and her hands were on his knee.

"Yeah, George?" she encouraged him to go on,  feeling her face flush bright red as a smile grew on her face.

"Brian's booked us on a tour," he told her, and though it wasn't what she was expecting or wanting to hear Connie gave him an excited smile, squeezing his knee. "It's a really big one too, it's America,"

"You're... you're going to America?" she asked, sounding dazed as she pulled away, taking her hand off his knee.

Of course it was a shock. She'd been expecting a declaration of love, not the news of him going away, and America was so far away. She'd only just gotten the boys back, only just been reunited with George, and now they were going to the other side of the world? She knew them going away again was inevitable, they'd been touring non-stop for a while already and London was only one stop on that tour. It was brilliant news and she was so proud of them, it was their chance to conquer the states like no other British act had done before and she knew how much all of them wanted to be successful, but it still took her by surprise and still hurt.

"Yeah, in a couple of days," George nodded excitedly, not quite noticing the look on Connie's face and how much his statement had taken her back. "Apparently one of the big talk show hosts saw the chaos we were causing in an airport a few weeks ago and he booked us, Brian reckons this could be us making our break in the States,"

"America..." she breathed out, avoiding meeting his eye as she instead stared down at the floor as she tried to push away her emotions and instead focus on how thrilled George seemed over it all. "That's amazing,"

"I know," he grinned, and though he still hadn't caught her downhearted expression, he took hold of both of her hands, squeezing them gently. "And I want you to come with us!"

That was another shock, and one she was less successful at hiding. That was probably because of how absurd it seemed to her, considering she'd never even left the country before and had hardly been anywhere other than London and Liverpool. She let out a short laugh of surprise, one that made George frown slightly, not that it disturbed his smile.

"Me, in America? Are you mad?" she exclaimed, her face turning from disappointment to shock.

"Yeah, why not?" George shrugged, his grin still remaining even as he sensed Connie was doubtful. "John's bringing Cyn,"

"Yeah, but they're married," Connie pointed out as she raised her eyebrows.

"But I want you there too," he continued, ignoring her protest of logic. "I want you there because, well... I love you, Con!"

"George..." Connie sighed again, grimacing slightly.

There it finally was, the statement she'd been wanting to hear, but not in the context she thought she would get it in. She didn't quite know what to do, how to react, her entire mind going blank as if she was in fight-or-flight mode. Fight - try and be happy for George, reciprocate the gesture and see where things go, or flight - tell him how she really felt about the offer and ruin everything but stay in her comfort zone. She tried to go for the former option, but in her inner turmoil, she couldn't help but burst into tears.

Then it was George who didn't know what to do. Nearly ten years of friendship and he'd never once seen her cry like that, silent sobs as her face reddened. She pulled  her hands out of his, running her fingers through her hair before immediately beginning to wipe the tears away as if she was ashamed of letting him see them, whilst all he could do was sit and watch. He knew her well enough to know she hated big emotional demonstrations and crying in front of people, and she especially hated the attention that came from them, except he couldn't help but reach out and stroke her arm.

"Connie?" he asked, his smile now completely gone and instead replaced by a frown of confusion, not to mention embarrassment considering how long it had taken him to pluck up the courage to talk to her about his feelings.

"Do you know how long I've wanted you to say that to me?" she exclaimed with a bitter laugh, wiping her eyes once more. "Because I love you too, George! I don't even know why since I've felt like this for so long, but I've always been too scared to even admit that I feel that way to myself, let alone tell you!"

"So come with me to America!" he encouraged, daring to smile again though it was still in vain.

"George I can't come to America," she told him firmly, fighting against the lump forming in her throat. "I can't,"

"Why not?" he asked, sounding hurt.

"Because I've got work, because I'm a writer and not a rockstar, because if John can't tell the world about having a wife then you certainly can't have me following after you," she listed off the reasons, trying to see the logic and reason despite her words hurting her. "Things aren't like the old days where we could just do what we wanted, it's not like we're still in Liverpool, this is America we're talking about!"

"I thought you'd be happy about it all," he said, trying not to sound bitter as he moved away from her on the sofa.

"I am happy, I'm so excited for you lads!" she told him almost too quickly, her eyes wide as she nodded. "George, I'm so proud of you. I always said that you'd make it big, they're gonna love you over in America, but I can't come with you,"

"Connie, I love you!" he insisted desperately, reaching for her hands but she pulled further away, not wanting to make things harder than they already were.

"I know, but I can't come with you," she told him, unable to meet his eye. As she glanced down, she realised her shirt was still wide open and she began to do the buttons back up once more, hesitating at the collar button as she noticed the small silver locket hanging around her neck where it had done for four years. "Our lives have changed George. If you'd have told me this back before I moved to London or before you became famous, maybe things would be different, maybe this wouldn't have to be so hard,"

"It doesn't have to be so hard!" George protested almost angrily, his eyebrows creasing together. "You're just being stubborn and scared,"

"No, I'm being sensible!" she snapped back, even though she knew he was right, and that maybe her fear of admitting her feelings had gotten the best of her once again. "I'm sorry but I just-"

The fight-or-flight mode had come back. Part of Connie wanted to stay and talk through her perspective, try and explain to him that no matter how much she loved him they wouldn't be able to make it work properly whilever he had commitments to the band and she to her career. Yet, another part of her couldn't cope with that, knowing that no matter how much she tried he wouldn't understand how she felt, and that was why she got up from the sofa, quickly straightening her clothes and heading for the door despite George's protests.

"I'm sorry," she called quietly as she got the the door.

She'd not realised that she'd started crying again until she caught her reflection in the mirror hanging on the door. She sniffed, quickly attempting to wipe them away before she gave up, instead offering George one final look, though it was futile given the fact that he was glaring down at the floor. She wanted him to jump up and chase after her, but by not agreeing to go to America with him, she'd hurt him and he couldn't bring himself to admit that by begging her to stay or insisting that they could make it work.

He stayed where he was, only looking up once he'd heard the door slam shut behind her.

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Word count: 2809

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