I should have gotten suspicious when I found a small note on my hotel room door.  Typed, not handwritten.  Just like the one on the tulip, which I had pressed in a book.  Though the note placement itself wasn't as omnious, the message was.  

Meet me in the empty storage room three doors down.  Do not turn on the light when you enter.  I wish to surprise you.  

Though the letter was a bit frightening, I kept thinking that this would give me all the answers I needed.  I didn't want to fret over my secret admirer while trying to calm the lads before their show.  We were leaving the next morning, and it was already late, but my curiousity got the best of me.  

Tucking the note in my skirt pocket, I walked slowly down to the hall.  As soon as I reached the storage closet, I knocked quietly on the door.  When no one answered, I turned the handle, surprised that it was unlocked.  Arms reached out from the darkness and grabbed me, slamming the door.  I felt my fingers brush the lightswitch but the person pulled me away before I could flip it.  I shouted and whimpered, "Please don't hurt me," before the person held me close and whispered, "Shh."  The man spoke in a comically low voice, which I knew had to be fake.  "I have no intention to hurt you."

I didn't realize I was shaking until the man brushed a hand across my cheek.  In the darkness, I couldn't see a thing.  And the light coming from underneath the door was dim, so it didn't help.  "Who are you?" I whispered.  The man didn't say a word, which made me even more frightened.  

"Don't be afraid," the low voice was somewhat soothing.  "Why should I hurt the object of my affection?"  I gasped, and tried to pull away from this person, but he pulled me back.  A moment later, warm lips met mine.  At first I was startled, for this was definitely not want I was expecting to happen.  Shoving him away from me, I stumbled backwards before the man caught me.  After pulling me back towards him, he whispered in my ear, "Don't you trust me?"

"I-I can't see you," I stuttered.  

The man kissed down my neck, which hurt because of the bruises, so I held back a yelp of pain.  "There are many things that you can't see in this world, but you still believe in them, don't you, Elle?"  I jumped when he said my name.  The voice almost began to sound familiar.  

The invisible man kissed me once more, but gently this time.  Honestly, it felt wonderful.  This couldn't have been Paul.  He wasn't the sort to pull this kind of trick.  Ringo had no romantic interest in me.  John seemed like he didn't give a care.  George...

Would this be some sick trick he would play?  He would drive me insane not knowing who this handsome, charismatic man was, only to reveal later that it was him.  It was just a joke.  

Or was this a new way to try and start over again?

It had to be someone who was traveling with us.  For a fleeting moment, I immediately thought Brian, but dismissed it.  He could barely say goodnight properly to me, nevermind had thoughts of kissing me.  I wasn't the kind of person he went after anyway.

The man who I assumed was George pressed me up against the wall, caressing my cheek as he kissed me passionately.  Believing my assumptions, I ran a hand through his hair, deepening the kiss.  The man moaned softly into my lips.  

Though, as I held him, I began to worry.  This man felt bigger than George, and was more confident.  You could tell by the way he held me, kissed me.  I pushed him away after a bit of this to take a breath, and whispered, "George?  Is that you?"

The man didn't respond.  He told me to turn around and close my eyes.  I shook my head, and then after realizing he couldn't see that, I told him no.  

"I'll come back.  I need to leave for a minute, however."

Being foolish as I was, I complied to his wishes.  I turned my back to him and closed my eyes.  After hearing the door open and close and heard footsteps run down the hall, I opened my eyes once more and ran for the closet door.  Unfortunately the man was too quick.  When I looked out, there was no one to be found.  

I should have known he was lying from the beginning.  

As soon as I got back to my room, I fell back on my bed and prayed for sleep.  I didn't want to think about what had just happened.  Whether I had kissed any of the lads or a complete stranger.  And if that man really was to return...

The next morning I found a letter underneath my door.  It was typed, like usual, and read Thank you for meeting me.  It truly made my evening.  After reading the note several times, I looked outside to see if the person decided to reveal himself.  

I found a little bunch of white baby's breath by the door.  It took an hour for my heart to stop pounding.  

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"Are you alright?" Paul whispered to me on the ride to the airport.  We could hear the mass of fans screaming already.  It was insane.  

I felt uncomfortable sitting in the limousine with all four of the lads after what had happened the night before.  It had to be one of them.  Both John and George were avoiding my eyes, and Ringo would occasionally smile and chat, but he was dreadfully tired.  

George didn't even acknowledge my presence.  I didn't blame him.  He knew throughout our entire little relationship that I fancied Paul, even though I knew I still had feelings for George that wouldn't go away in a day like his had for me.  But I had to be happy.  Paul cared for me, and I for him.  

I rubbed my forehead.  "I'm alright.  I had a bit of a...late night last night.  But it was nice."  At that, George actually looked up at me.  I had a small hope that it was him kissing me in the closet, but as I began to think about it, I realized that it was most likely Paul.  Maybe he was going to make me wonder all day and into the night, only to reveal himself right after the Ed Sullivan show.  Sometimes he liked playing little tricks.  

However, the man in the closet gave off a bit of a wild aura, as if anytime he'd flip on the lightswitch and give me a heart attack.  Though he was gentle, and like he had said, he didn't want to hurt me.  I was the object of his affection.  

Could it have been Ringo?  I had never really thought of him as anything but a good friend, but that didn't mean the feeling was mutual.  

I knew that I had to let it go.  Maybe I would never know who the man was.  If I asked Paul, and it really wasn't him, he would freak out.  Asking George and John would be embarrassing, and I had a feeling that Ringo wasn't interested in me that way, because he was always looking at different girls wherever we went.  

When we arrived at the airport, before I was tugged away from the lads by Brian, George harshly whispered to me, "A nice late night, eh?  With Paul?  You tramp."  I swallowed hard, trying not to look as hurt as I was by his words.  

The fans were everywhere, holding signs saying We love you and Come back soon.  Some girls were crying, others screaming their heads off.  But mostly cheering.  Their boys were bound for America.

I remembered reading in a magazine somewhere that the exact plane that we were taking crashed only a few years later.  The thought made me shudder.

As soon as we were up in the air, I sat away from the lads for a little bit while they were photographed.  Brian did not allow me anywhere near where I could be captured on film, no exceptions, unless it was the lads who were taking pictures.  

I went into the bathroom and tried to compose myself, because George's remark had made my face red, which happened sometimes when I was trying not to cry.  If I did begin to tear up, George would know why.  I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.  

Though, why shouldn't his comment get to me?  It was true, wasn't it?  

When I left the tiny restroom, I almost ran into Paul.  "Sorry," he said, "I was just wondering if you were in there."  Taking in my appearance, he added: "What's wrong?"  

I bit my lip for a minute and then said, quietly, "Nothing.  I'm fine.  I'm just a bit tired.  I think I might rest.  We've...um...we've a long flight ahead." I hurried back to a seat, across the aisle and down three rows from John and George.  George had watched Paul and I silently, and though he probably couldn't hear what we had said, he knew how I was feeling.  

I must have fallen asleep a few minutes later, because Paul woke me up by sitting next to me and resting his head on my shoulder.  I groaned and opened my eyes.  

"Sorry, love." he whispered.  "Do you want me to get you a blanket?" 

"No," I sighed.  "I'm fine."

"What's wrong?" He was going to light a cigarette, but I stopped him.  Smoke circulating in the air was bad for all of us, and even though he didn't like me at all anymore, I wanted to keep George safe.  He sighed, and then tucked it back into his pocket.  

I leaned my head on his shoulder.  "Nothing, Paul.  You should sleep.  Your big day is two days from now.  You need to be ready-"  I was interrupted by hoarse coughing a few seats ahead of us.  It was coming from George.  I sat up.  "Tell him he needs to take medicine."

"Why?"

"Just do it.  He won't listen to me.  He's sick."  I remembered that right before the lads performed on the Ed Sullivan show George was bedridden, and everyone was worried he wouldn't be able to do the show.  

Paul got up, and went over to talk to George and John.  I looked out the plane window.  We were high above the clouds.  It was beautiful, but too bright out to get some sleep.  I shut the window, and closed my eyes.  After a few minutes, Paul came back.  "He says he's fine.  He's just tired."

I shook my head disapprovingly and sighed.  "He's sick.  I know he is."

Paul rested his chin my head.  "We'll find out when we land.  You should sleep, darling."  He kissed my forehead lightly, and in that moment I felt like everyone was watching us, even though we were mostly out of sight by the three other lads and Brian.  I closed my eyes, hoping the burning feeling on my cheeks would go away.  George's remark had stung, and it was still resonating in my mind.  It was worse than anything he had ever said to me, because most of it was true.  Maybe I really was a tramp.  But I hadn't spent the night with Paul.  

I was off snogging an unknown person in a storage closet.  

Oh, God...

It had to be George.  Or at least he knew about it.  It must have been him, and he used it as a trick.  He wanted to know if I would kiss someone I might not have known, but felt somewhat comfortable with.  It was a way to see if I really was faithful.   

His accusations were true.  I really was a tramp.

Some windows were closed, which made it easier to rest.  I could feel Paul's heart rate slowly dramatically as he fell asleep.  I wondered what was going on in his mind to make it so fast before.

The fans who were waiting at the airport for the lads were louder than a jet taking off.  The boys were photographed many times, and Brian kept me on a tight leash so I wouldn't be.  They waved to the fans, and took pictures themselves.  It was insane, and it was only just the beginning.  

After we were hustled into cars, Paul grabbed me, beaming.  "This is mad!  I thought America would be quiet, and we'd have to grow on them."  Then he grew worried.  "What if the show flops?"

"It won't." I said, to all of them.  "I know it won't."

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George was horribly sick the next day.  After Brian left, Paul turned to me.  "Was this supposed to happen in the future?"

I nodded.  "Hopefully he'll be better by tomorrow."

Since they weren't doing anything that day until the evening, Paul was dressed in casual slacks and a blue button-up shirt.  He looked quite handsome, even when he wasn't trying to be.  "Let's do something.  We should explore the city."  He pulled on his coat, and then went to fetch mine.  

"We should ask Brian before we leave."

"There's no need.  John and Ringo just left and he knows about it," He helped me pull on the jacket.  But before we left, I stopped him.  "You're forgetting something," I teased.  

"What?"  He looked down at himself, as if he had forgotten to put on trousers that day.  Which would have been perfectly appealing to most fans if they saw him out in public, but that was not the case.  

I smiled.  "Your disguise?"

The Beatles had put together little disguises before we left for America, not thinking that they would need to use them.  But after yesterday when we arrived in New York, their theory was proved wrong.  Paul's little creation was simple.  A pair of tinted sunglasses, even though it was overcast, and a cap with a brim you could pull down.  I went into my room and found the scarf Paul got me in Paris.  For once, I felt pretty while wearing it.  

Paul also found Ringo's camera in hopes that we would use it.  

Though I wished that we could have, it seemed like it would have taken weeks to see every part of New York City.  It was massive.  In the time we had, we hurried to Central Park.  We took pictures of each other, and then Paul snatched the camera from me, saying, "I have an idea."

He took a picture of us kissing, but with the trees and the scenery around us.  We'd have to wait a bit to get the photographs developed.  Because we couldn't see them, Paul had to make sure we took extras.  I rolled my eyes, for I knew he just wanted the kisses.  

We walked past newstands, and I thought it was the most interesting thing to look at all the historical titles and topics on the magazines.  Though Paul was not interested in such things.  I caught him looking at the cover of Playboy, at a girl in a skimpy bikini.  He didn't realize I was watching him until I said, "You know, if you stare long enough, she'll blow a kiss."  I must have startled him, because he almost dropped the magazine.  He put it back on the newstand, and pulled me along to another wonderful place in the city.  

As we walked, he held my hand, and kept me close.  It was still a bit cold for February, and I think he wanted to stay warm, or because he liked to know I was near.  

Paul turned to me.  "Ask me a question.  You look like you want to."  

The remark confused me, as simple as it was.  The biggest question on my mind was the identity of the man in the storage closet.  If Paul knew, and wanted me to ask him a question, assuming it was the one I was thinking of, it had to be him.  But if it wasn't him, he would be worried, and he was scared enough already.  

So instead I played it safe.  "Who is more attractive to you: the girl on that magazine or me?"  

He laughed, trying to find a way to answer this question without offending me.  As long as I had known him, he never stared at me like that.  Would he answer it the way I thought he would, or would he be honest?  

We were heading once more towards Central Park, and Paul pulled me off the trail behind a few trees.  He leaned me up against the tree, and after kissing me gently, he whispered, "You."  He placed his hands on my cheeks, his thumb tracing my jawline.  The young Beatle did not kiss me right away, but was so close our noses brushed occasionally.  Though I almost liked it that way.  It was as though he was saying that he loved me so much he didn't need to touch his lips to mine to affirm it.  

Paul and I stayed that way for awhile, until the sun began to set and we hurried back to the hotel.  

I had bigger things to worry about than strange men.  

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An Unknown Point Of View

The kiss in the storage closet was nothing short of wonderful, if not painfully small.  I knew that if I had stayed longer, someone was bound to come looking for her, and if I had been discovered it would have been worse than never getting the kiss at all.  

And I wanted that kiss more than anything.  But not the hell to pay for it.  

I couldn't get her out of my head as soon as I left.  I wondered if she thought of me.  

Well, of course she did.  Unless kissing strange men in the dark was a habit of hers.

Though I knew I either had to forget about her, or find a way to tell her that I care for her.  These letters and flowers just frightened her, and showed none of my real emotion.  And I had a suspicion that even if I had said more to her in the closet, particularly about how much she meant to me, she wouldn't have believed a word.  

As I rested on my bed, I wished that Elle was lying next to me.  She was the first girl I was unable to express any emotion to.  It wasn't as if I had done this before.  I had snogged countless girls before, but I had never fallen in love.  

Fallen in love.

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This chapter is dedicated to @LauraScott8, because today is her birthday.  Happy Birthday!

If you have a special occasion you want me to shout out to, just ask :D

Peace and love, 

Luna <3