July 1964

America was amazing, and Connie felt like her life was a dream.

She still couldn't believe she was there. After the premiere of A Hard Days Night, Brian had told the lads that they had another American tour lined up, and George hadn't hesitated in asking Connie to come along with them. It went down a lot better than the last time he asked her to go to America with them, because now at least they were courting and it wasn't like she was just running off to the other side of the world with her best mate pretending she wasn't madly in love with him.

As soon as he'd asked her along she'd booked off the whole Summer at work. She used all her days off and worked massive overtime to make up for it, but the idea that one of their best journalists was going on an international tour with the Beatles was something the New Times didn't want to say no to. She'd promised the magazine a lot of content about America, enough content to the extent that the trip could be counted as work, but it was still the greatest trip ever.

Or, at least it was the greatest after her nerves settled. Flying terrified her, as well as the thought of being in another country for the first time ever. Being a working class Liverpudlian, London had felt terrifying, let alone travelling all across America. She knew she'd be safe though, she'd have the lads, and John was bringing Cynthia along so she'd still have company even when they were playing their gigs and doing press. Maybe she'd have felt more confident about the trip if they weren't in the public eye so much, but as soon as they'd stepped off the plane they were surrounded, practically suffocated by the American press and the enthusiastic fans. Given the fact that she'd nearly had a fight with John on the plane after he made up a cruel joke to wind her up, it was all very overwhelming. The excitement around the lads didn't settle, Beatlemania exploding around them, but as they went across the states it became more normal, or as normal is it all could be.

Connie went to the first few concerts, watching from the wings with Brian and Cynthia, but after a while she and Cynthia decided to just go off on their own, exploring the cities they were in or just chilling in their hotel. The Beatles were given the penthouse suites in whatever hotel they were staying in, the suites divided into separate bedrooms for each of them, and the grandeur of it all was the sort of luxury Connie hadn't really known before. Once, the lads all came back from a concert to see her surrounded by room service platters, trailing through all the American channels on the television. Even if the lads were confined to concert halls and hotel rooms it was still such an exciting time, and it was like she was watching history in the making, the trip being utterly life changing.

Each morning that they didn't have to be up for travelling the lads were expected to be awake bright and early to do press or rehearse for their concerts. The early starts didn't extend to the girls obviously, but considering she shared a bed with George she got woken up when he had to get up. That wasn't a problem for Connie though, because in bed in the mornings was her favourite time with him. Any time she spent with George was special, but waking up next to him was always the best reality check for her. She was actually there abroad with him, she was actually his girlfriend, and nothing reminded her of those two facts more than waking up in his arms.

That morning in New York was no different. As the alarm clock buzzed, it woke Connie up immediately, her eyelids snapping open. The night before the two of them had gone to bed early after he'd gotten in from the concert, and after fooling around with each other for a while George had passed out with his arms wrapped around her, his head buried into the crook of her neck. He must have been exhausted though, the alarm not even causing him to stir. She let out a quiet, tired laugh, reaching out to the bedside table to switch the clock off before she ran her fingers up and down his bare back, causing goose bumps to rise. George murmured tiredly burying his face further into her as if he was trying to hide, and with a content smile Connie moved her hand to stroke his hair, running her fingers through the thick locks at the back of his neck.

"Come on, up and at 'em, Georgie," she muttered, only to receive another tired grunt from her boyfriend. "Oi, wake up,"

"I'm awake," he mumbled, though the fact that he still had his eyes shut seemed to contradict that. "Why am I awake?"

"Because we're in New York, you've got an early morning interview and then a press conference, and then you're playing another concert," she explained, feeling as if she knew his schedule inside out.

George sighed, and Connie took that opportunity to study his face. She could never get over how beautiful he was. She remembered first meeting him and thinking how good looking he was, his teenage good looks surely hinting that he'd grow up to be something truly handsome. She'd been right, and it felt like a weird sort of privilege to call him her boyfriend.

A privilege only because of their past, and how long she'd been falling in love with him, not because of everything that came with Beatlemania. Ever since the band had made it big she'd seen girls screaming after him, teen magazines calling him good looking and a heart throb, and being in the states seemed to just remind her how many people envied her for him. It wasn't something she liked thinking about, hating the thought that her boyfriend was like some sort of prize she'd won that millions wanted to fight her for or that she was just some girl who got lucky to be close to him. She didn't like either of those options, so she tried to block them out wherever possible, instead just focusing on him and how he was now looking up at her with tired eyes and a small smile.

"I feel like I've hardly seen you," he muttered after a moment, sounding almost guilty. "I'm glad you're here though, it feels like a bit of home has come with me this time, the whole America thing doesn't feel as strange with you here,"

"George, you've seen plenty of me," she told him, rolling her eyes as he got her drift and realised she was still laid naked with him, looking down at her with a smirk. "I'm glad I'm here too, it feels really special being here,"

"There's no one else I'd rather be with," he said, his voice tired, and with that he laid his head back down onto her chest. With one hand still knotted into his hair, she poked him gently on the arm with her spare hand, trying to make sure he was still awake, until she heard him mutter, "Just give me another minute,"

"Could you not just pull a sickie?" she asked, curling his hair around her fingers.

"Nah, not fair on the others, they'd be lost without their 'quiet Beatle'," he remarked, rolling his eyes the title the press had bestowed him with.

"Clearly the press and public don't know you like I do, you were anything but quiet last night," she muttered, her joke leaving him shocked with a smirk.

"Well they wouldn't call you quiet either, it's just as well that the rest of them all went out last night," he hit back, this time making her flush bright red in embarrassment.

With that, George seemed more awake as he sat up, leaning down over her as he pushed a kiss to her lips. Her hand still on the back of his head, she drew him closer, the passion building between the two of them until she moved her hands to his waist, gently pulling him on top of her so he was sat on her hips. His hands were roaming around her body softly, as if he had unfinished business from the night before, whilst she held him close and deepened their kisses.

It was like electricity was coursing between the two of them, especially as George moved his lips from hers, trailing kisses across her jaw and to the crook of her neck. She let out a small moan of pleasure, even as she felt him run his teeth against her soft skin, probably leaving behind another love bite, though she'd gotten used to that in the last few months. She'd noted over the last few months that it was one of his favourite things to do to her, and she didn't mind that it meant having to wear high necks or styling her hair to cover the marks.

"You're so..." George breathed out as his hands stroked her bare waist. "So beautiful,"

"So are you... or handsome or whatever," she whispered back to him, making him breathe out a quiet laugh at her choice of words.

His lips found hers once more, and Connie forgot completely that they were awake so early for an actual reason. Everything seemed to be forgotten, everything but him. It was as if they were the only people left in the world, caught up in their bubble of passion, though the peace didn't last much longer, not as the two of them heard the sound of banging on their bedroom door.

"Oi!" John's voice called loudly, and over the noise of his banging fist the two of them could hear the snickering laughs of the other two Beatles. "Come on, George, quit shagging me cousin and get out here, we're gonna be late!"

"Fuck off, John!" Connie yelled back, flushing bright red once more, though as she rolled her eyes she put her hand on George's chest, nudging him away.

"He has a point though," George muttered sadly, pushing one more quick kiss to her cheek before he rolled over, hopping out of bed.

Connie sighed, leaning back in bed to watch as George got ready. She watched as he quickly pulled on his suit, pulling on a pair of trousers, buttoning his shirt and picking out a tie. When she saw him thread the tie under his collar she got out of bed as well, pulling her dressing gown on as she gestured for him to come over. As soon as he was close enough she quickly kissed his cheek, her hands going to his tie, tying it neatly and straightening it. He grinned in thanks before he went back to the dresser, quickly combing his messy hair as Connie sat back down on the end of the bed. He looked up in the mirror at her for a moment, another smirk appearing on his face at the sight of her.

"After the concert tonight I'm taking you out,"  he stated all of a sudden as he pulled on his suit jacket, looking in the mirror to see her confused frown. "I want to actually see the city with you, not just the hotel room. Wear something pretty, not that you ever don't, we'll do something special then go to a club for a few drinks or something,"

"Is that okay of we do that?" she raised her eyebrow at him doubtfully to which he just shrugged. "We'll get mobbed by press and fans,"

"Oh, screw them," he muttered flippantly, making Connie snort out a laugh. "Surely you don't just want another night of room service and telly?"

"I mean, telly isn't as good here as it is at home, too many adverts," she shrugged, George nodding in agreement. "Alright then, as long as you're sure it'll be safe and you're not gonna get slated by the press for being seen with me,"

"Con, I'm proud to be seen with you!" he exclaimed with a grin, though as she laughed in response he turned away from the mirror, moving towards her and taking hold of both of her hands. "I'm serious, it's no one else's business who I go out with, I don't care what they think and neither should you, I love you,"

"Soppy git," she grinned, though before she had the chance to repeat his sentiment there was another bang on their door, making her scowl. "John, fuck off!"

Connie then didn't get a chance to tell George she loved him too, not as he crossed the room and flung the door open, revealing the three Beatles stood with their arms folded across their chests, holding back grins of amusement. She rolled her eyes at them all, though as she walked past them to get into the main living area where breakfast was set out on the table she noticed with a satisfied smirk how Paul and Ringo flinched away from her, as if knowing she was angry at them for disturbing her and George. John however seemed unbothered by her, instead staring at George, blocking the doorway as he looked at him almost confrontationally.

"Oi, let him be," she called to her cousin without looking at him, helping herself to a plate of toast and the newspaper, snorting out a laugh when she saw the lads on the front cover. "God, they're obsessed with you swines over here,"

"Yep, and duty calls," John winked at her, taking her advice and leaving George alone, but he instead headed straight over to her, taking a piece of toast right out of her hand, grinning as she scowled. "We better head off, the adoring American public will be missing us,"

***
After breakfast, Connie got ready, styling her hair into two braids in the hopes that they'd make her hair curly for her date that night, the hot American weather leading to her dressing out of her comfort zone in a pair of knee-length shorts, and to get revenge for him stealing her toast that morning she raided John's suitcase for one of his shirts. With a pair of sunglasses she looked quite simple, hopefully subtle enough to just look like a tourist and not the girlfriend of a Beatle.

The idea of going on a date that night had really excited her, only to then feel like she had nothing to wear. Nothing nice enough anyway, so as soon as Cynthia appeared she suggested that the two of them head off into the city to do some shopping and sight seeing. Going out just the two of them they would be practically anonymous, and wouldn't need any security around them. They'd be unrecognisable without the boys, for once not being seen as George Harrison's girlfriend and John Lennon's wife.

It was fun to go out into the city on their own, getting a cab to the shopping district, and after weeks of constantly being surrounded by security and not being left alone because of the boys, it made a change to just go about their business and not be hassled. The two of them spent the whole morning going between different shops, Cynthia buying various things to take back to England for Julian whilst Connie was in desperate search for an outfit. Nothing seemed right, everything being well out of her comfort zone until in the last shop she finally found a dress she liked. It was light pink and tight fitting, showing off her slim figure as it came just above her knee with three quarter sleeves and a high collar, perfect for hiding the love bites George had given her. It was different to what she'd usually wear but she liked it all the same, and thought that George would like it too, so once she'd bought it the two women decided to head back to their hotel, exhausted from walking round all day.

They'd decided to get another cab back to the hotel, but the driver refused to stop right outside, saying something about it being a nightmare getting down that road. Neither of them really knew what he was going on about until he'd dropped them off at the end of the street and they saw the huge crowd of Beatles fans surrounding the front of the hotel.

"Well this is convenient," Connie muttered as the two of them headed over towards the hotel.

The doors were guarded by security, but even so as Connie and Cynthia fought through the swarm of screaming fans they thought they'd be able to just walk in. They were residents of the hotel after all, but even as they got to the front of the crowd one security guard held his arm out, stopping them both from going any further.

"Sorry, we're staying in this hotel, can you let us in please?" Cynthia asked the guard politely, though his stance didn't change, looking at both women with a patronising smirk.

"Of course you are," he said with a mocking laugh, infuriating Connie as she was instantly reminded of a few months before when security had turned her away at the Empire theatre stage door.

"Jesus fucking Christ, not this bollocks again!" she exclaimed angrily, making a few of the surrounding people gasp, Americans clearly not used to cursing like scousers were. "My name is Constance Lennon, I'm staying in this fucking hotel,"

"Of course, any relation to the popstar then?" the security guard sneered, and Connie realised how much more annoying it was to be made fun of by an American than it was by anyone who'd mocked her at home.

"Yes, she's his cousin, and I'm his wife!" Cynthia insisted, though the security just laughed at the pair of them. "Why would we lie about something like this?"

"Why would all these crazy fans say the same?" he replied, gesturing to the crowd, and Connie really, really wanted to punch him.

In fact she was about to, clenching her fist getting ready to swing it up and aim for the man's jaw, or his nose, or his teeth, until something made her stop. A horrible thought came to the front of her mind, imagining the front page of every newspaper and magazine depicting the aggressive maniac girlfriend of George Harrison punching a harmless security guard, every tabloid demonising her and spoiling her career, not to mention ruining the band's reputation. Punching that guy could cost her everything, but it could also screw things up for the lads, and she refused to create such trouble. Instead, she looked desperately to the rest of the crowd surrounding them until she spotted a fan stood next to her, holding a Beatles magazine. The lads were on the front page, grinning, and Connie frowned, trying to figure out where the picture had been taken until she realised.

With a triumphant grin, she nudged the girl, gesturing to borrow the magazine, and when the girl handed it to her, Connie quickly thrust it in the security guard's face, holding it up so he could see the photograph of the band stood on the stairs of a plane, waving to their fans. He seemed confused and irritated at first, until he saw where she was pointing at on the front cover, pointing out where, just behind the band she was stood with Cynthia in the plane's doorway, clearly not fans but member's of the Beatles' inner circle.

His realisation was also met with some of the fans around them finally recognising the two women. As she handed the girl her magazine back she heard the first whisper, the 'is that...', met with the 'it is'. The curiosity in recognition quickly faded, the fans soon beginning to crowd around them even more than before, and as much as she pushed to keep her place at the front of the swarm, Connie heard their names be thrown around. At first it was with indifference, until it was replaced with jealousy and disgust, especially as one girl grabbed her arm, pulling her round to face her.

"You're not as cute as the papers make you out to be," the girl sneered in a thick Brooklyn accent that left Connie confused; it was funny to her that people always said scousers were unintelligible for their accent when this girl's existed. "Your boyfriend's too good for you, he'll dump you as soon as he comes to his senses, he should be going out with someone like me not some dirty English girl,"

"Yeah, you don't deserve to go out with someone as great as George," another girl shouted to her, making her feel as if everyone was on top of her. "You're not even pretty,"

Yet again Connie was clenching her fist, but she couldn't help be more amused than offended. She'd only been out as George's girlfriend for a few weeks but she'd already faced enough fan jealousy to know not let it bother her. She was twenty two, a grown woman not a teenager who could be intimidated or upset by a stranger. The only thing that irritated her was how much these American girls reminded her of all the girls she went to school with that made fun of her for being a poor scouser, the ones who'd act friendly to get close to her lad mates but laugh at her behind her back.

She'd faced much worse mockery when she'd moved to London to the extent she thought she'd gotten over all the school stuff. She knew who she was, and she was happy with herself to the extent she didn't usually let stuff get on top of her, but as much as the American girls had amused her in her stupid claims, it also set off something inside of Connie that was close to insecurity. She knew what the girls said was ridiculous, she knew they were just the claims of mad fans, but it still stung a little. It was stupid to let it get to her, those girls knew nothing about Connie's relationship with George, but the thought that George would get bored of her and dump her was placed in her head.

Instead of fighting, Connie merely let out a bitter laugh, trying to seem as though it didn't bother her.

"So lovely to have your support," she spoke through gritted teeth, pulling her arm out of the girl's grip. "I'll send your regards to my boyfriend, I'm sure he'll love your offer, now get the fuck away from me,"

"Connie, come on!" Cynthia called desperately, and her gaze quickly snapped from the American girls to her cousin-in-law who was now stood at the side of the security guard.

The security guard, despite his previous disbelief was now beckoning to her, and Connie quickly pushed past the surrounding fans. Cynthia reached out and grabbed her arm, and as the guard held the door open for them they both dashed inside, sighing with relief once they were in the safety of the hotel. It had been an overwhelming experience and they hadn't even been with the band, showing both of them the real madness of Beatlemania.

"Are you alright?" Connie asked Cynthia as the two of them got in the lift up to their rooms. "None of them call you names or owt?"

"No, nothing that hasn't already been said before, I'm fine," she said with a small sad smile, reminding Connie that she'd suffered the abuse of fans all through the early days in Liverpool. "At least it wasn't physical, did Maureen ever tell you about the time in Liverpool when someone leant through her car window to try and scratch at her face?"

"Yeah," Connie nodded, remembering the story as it made her feel slightly sick. "It's mental, all this,"

"Are you alright?" Cynthia asked after a moment. "I heard what that one girl said, it wasn't fair, it was really harsh,"

"Yeah, I'll be reyt," Connie shrugged, avoiding meeting Cynthia's eye, though as she gestured for her to continue Connie sighed. "I don't think it would have bothered me if she didn't look like a Brooklyn version of one of the girls I went to school with, y'know, the ones who wanted me to set them up on dates with my George, the ones who'd make fun of my accent and make fun of me for being working class. Bloody hell, feels like wherever I go someone's gonna call me dirty or scouse or poor or whatever. I don't care what anyone thinks though, if just pisses me off,"

"You shouldn't care though because none of it is true," her cousin-in-law tried to reassure her. "It's all just jealousy, you know George loves you more than anything,"

Connie nodded, and thankfully Cynthia took that as a cue that she didn't want to talk about it anymore. The two of them tried to change the conversation, trying to talk about more positive things like their shopping trip, but it was all still playing on Connie's mind, to the extent that as soon as they were both back in the hotel room she shut herself off in her bedroom. She had to do some writing to do so for work, and even though it wasn't a great distraction she managed to pass the time until she looked at the clock and realised that she had to start getting ready for her date that night.

Hopefully she'd feel better about herself once she was out with George, though as she took a shower half an hour before the lads were due back from their concert she was still feeling irritated. Even as she was doing her makeup, trying to neatly apply her eyeliner and lipstick she found herself making comparisons to all the girls that had been out in the crowd. She knew there were prettier girls, richer girls, funnier girls, and maybe she'd finally realised all that, the happy bubble she'd been caught in for the last few weeks finally bursting. All the same, she pulled her dress on and let her hair out of her braids, and before she knew it George was standing in the doorway, grinning at her as he watched her styling her hair.

"Oh, hello," she offered him a small wave as she tied the front part of her hair up into a top knot. "How was your gig?"

"Yeah, was alright, got a load of jelly beans tossed at us but enough of all that, you look amazing," he dismissed his own day as he came into the room, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind as he pushed a kiss to her temple. "Just gimme a minute to change me shirt and we can get going,"

"Jesus, did they not take your eye out? How you meant to bloody sing and lay guitar if people are lobbing things at you?" she muttered annoyedly as George unbuttoned his concert shirt and pulled on a fresh one, deciding not to focus on his compliment because of how irritated she was still feeling about herself, though her problem with the fans earlier didn't help how she felt about what he'd told her. "I mean, I know you wouldn't be anywhere without your fans, and I'm grateful that they've got the common sense to like your music and stuff, but do they have to be so..."

"What's going on, Con?" he asked, interrupting her as he buttoned his shirt without looking, too focused on watching her face. "When we were coming in I heard Cyn mention something to John about how you struggled to get in the hotel earlier, and now you're all snappy about fans, did something happen?"

"No, everything's okay, promise," she offered him a small smile, deciding to try and put it behind her to protect him, not wanting him to know about what the fans had said to her. "Sorry, I've been doing some work so that might be why I'm a bit snippy, let's just leave it, alright? Where are we going tonight?"

"If you're sure," George shrugged, knowing that even if something was bothering her she wasn't going to talk about it, finishing sorting his shirt and re-tying his tie as he smiled at her again. "Well, we're going to a club, but first I've got a surprise planned as well,"

At the mention of a surprise, Connie raised her eyebrow at him teasingly, inevitably cheering up at the thought that he'd planned a date night for them both. It was sweet that even with his hectic work schedule he was still trying to make the trip special for them both. How could she stay miserable with herself knowing that he cared about her enough to do something like that for her?

***

George had taken her to see a Broadway musical. It was one of the things she'd wanted to do in New York after Ruby had raved to her about the theatres in America, but she'd thought it would be impossible given the band's schedule and the chaos of press and fans. She'd never even been to the theatre with George in London, so she just assumed it would be something that they wouldn't be able to do.

George, however, had somehow made it work. Brian had sorted it all our for him, and even though he had to escort them to make sure they were safe and their seats were at the back to avoid attention, Connie was thrilled. She'd forgotten all about what had happened earlier on as they watched the show. He'd taken her to see the Sound of Music and she immediately fell in love with it. Theatre and musicals weren't something she'd grown up with, too poor to afford to see shows, but it was something she'd tried to get into in London now that she had more money. She knew it wasn't really George's thing, but that seemed to make it all the more special that he was willing to go to something like that with her.

After the show they left the theatre, knowing that a car would be outside to pick them up to take them to the club, though as they stepped outside, Connie's arm wrapped around George's, they realised that they hadn't gone to the show as incognito as they thought. The press were surrounding the car on the streets, taking pictures of them and calling out questions, crowding around them. Connie's mind instantly went back to the hotel situation as she quickly put her head down, for once not in the mood to make witty remarks to the press, and she was grateful that Brian was there with them to make sure they weren't bothered too much. George guided her into the car, occasionally smiling for the cameras, but he'd noticed her lack of interest, and knew it wasn't like her.

Brian got in the front of the car, leaving the couple to climb into the back seats. It was a big enough vehicle to give them their privacy, something George was grateful for, as he quickly turned to Connie as soon as he'd shut the car door, deciding they needed to talk.

"Okay, you never miss the opportunity to talk shit to journalists, something's up," George said as soon as the car started driving.

"Nothing's up, just wasn't in the mood!" she shrugged with a laugh. "I'm genuinely fine, Georgie, in fact I'm great, I loved the show, thank you for taking us,"

George wasn't buying it. She was sincere in her gratitude, he knew that, but he also knew she was hiding something from him, not seeming completely herself. He raised his eyebrows at her questioningly, and she knew that she'd have to tell him what had happened earlier. With a small sigh, she took hold of his hand, playing with his fingers absentmindedly as she avoided eye contact.

"Look, I'm fine, but when me and Cyn got caught up in the crowd outside the hotel, the security wouldn't let us in cause they thought we were just some mad fans, but then when people stated recognising us some of the girls there were calling us some shit," Connie explained, eventually looking up at George with a small frown.

"What did they say?" he asked, almost worriedly.

"Nothing really, one girl got hold of me and said I was just some dirty English girl that you'd get bored of cause you're too good for me, another said I wasn't even pretty and you deserve better," she told him, her tone flat and uncaring, as if it didn't bother her. "I know I'm not the greatest person out there, and I don't care what people think of me, but-"

"Connie, don't you dare even listen to any of them!" he interrupted, his tone annoyed I exclamation. "Those girls might call themselves our fans, but you're my girl. Like I told you earlier, I'm proud to be with you. What would you have done if those were just Liverpudlian girls that were saying that to you?"

"I dunno, tell them to fuck off or something," she rolled her eyes. "It's not that simple though. They're not just rude school girls, they're your fans, and if I retaliate to defend my own reputation I could ruin yours. I'm happy with you, I really am, and I'm really proud of everything that you're doing, so I don't want to do anything that could spoil it. I don't care what people think of me, I don't give a shit at all, but I don't want you to feel like you're just stuck with me because press and fans have decided I'm not good enough,"

George didn't respond at first. He instead decided to lean over and kiss her, his lips meeting hers as his hand cupped her cheek. Closing her eyes, she felt herself relax into his hand, and as he used his other hand to stroke her curls, she pulled her lips from his. He was looking at her with love in his eyes, and he just wished that she knew how much he adored her, and how nothing anyone could say could change that. He's spent the last few years wishing he could call her his girlfriend, and now he had her he wasn't going to let anything spoil it, for either of them.

"If we were still back in Liverpool, still two penniless teenagers scrimping their money together to afford a bag of chips and bus fare to the docks, I'd still be mad for you, nothing can change that, not even now there's press following us, not now there's fans who think that they're the only ones we should be with," George told her, and Connie couldn't help but grin. "I love you, Connie, and I mean it. Forget everyone else, none of them matter to me nearly as much as you do,"

"You're a soppy bugger," she laughed, leaning over and kissing his cheek, using humour to hide how relieved and in love she was. "But you're a good lad, and I'm glad I'm with you,"

When the car pulled up outside the private nightclub George had arranged for them to go to, both of them saw the press standing at the door, their cameras at the ready, but Connie didn't care. She simply stuck up her middle finger, knowing the darkened windows would stop them seeing her gesture of defiance to Beatlemania. George laughed, intertwining his hand with hers, and the two of them got out the car, united in their love as they faced the madness that was now their lives.

***

Word count: 6000

***