Well, this is it. Thank you so much to every single one of you who has read this fic, it means so much to me. It was an idea that had been in my mind for a while, and I'm quite sad that it has finished.

Thank you to Blondchixej for your lovely review of the last chapter - it's great to see another Liarla fan who is still around! I remember being on a dedicated Liarla forum back in the day! I doubt this'll be the last of my Liarla work.

The one good thing that'll come of the end of this fic is the beginning of my next one. I'm intending for it to be called 'Roll Camera' (though knowing me, that could change!). It'll be M-rated to be safe, and it will mainly be Peter/Carla, but other characters such as Roy, Frank and Nick will be heavily featured. Carla and Peter have been described by multiple sources as 'the Burton and Taylor of the Street' - so why not give them a Hollywood story of their own?

Once again, thank you to all who have read and reviewed. I really hope you have enjoyed this. The last chapter is fairly short compared to some, but I didn't want to long it out. I think it does what it needs to.

Thanks again for everything!

Chloe xoxo

ooooooooooooo

The bodies around me blurred together as I glanced around the room with hazy eyes, the copious amount of alcohol that I had consumed that evening well and truly settled in my bloodstream. As drunk as I was, though, I was still capable of making decisions. In fact, I probably hadn't even had that much; it had just been a long time since I had last let my hair down. I'd never really felt the need to back in Los Angeles. But in Weatherfield, everything was a different story.

Los Angeles. Why couldn't I just call it home?

I sighed to myself, automatically knowing the answer to my own question. Because it wasn't home. It hadn't really ever been, it was more just a temporary escape from a permanent problem. Home was where my family were, the friends that I'd known for years, a job that I'd loved and things that I cared about. Suzie was great, and living with her was a blast, but she'd reached the stage where she had settled with a husband and had recently had a baby, and now I was more of an awkward lodger than a housemate. I had a job I tolerated, acquaintances who were a good laugh on a Friday night at the pub, but who didn't really have much depth to them. They weren't Michelle, or Leanne, or Liam. They were just stand-ins.

I was quickly finding it the case that the longer I stayed in Weatherfield, the further I got from being able to leave.

I watched, smiling silently, as Nick coaxed Leanne out of the front door of the establishment, his hand subtly yet affectionately resting on the small of the back and guiding her in the direction of the taxi rank. I was so pleased to finally see her happy. She deserved it, after the years of suffering that she'd endured with her cheating ex-husband. Then, I spotted Michelle, with her arms wrapped around an intoxicated Sean Tully, both of them belting out 'Don't Look Back In Anger' at the top of their lungs. She was Liam and Paul's sister through-and-through. Steve was hovering behind her, propping himself up with the back of a chair. If I was to go back to the life that I'd lived for the last decade, I would miss so many moments like this. Could I actually do it?

There was, however, the other side of the coin to consider. If I were to stay, hypothetically speaking, would I be able to cope seeing Liam every day and not being able to touch him? To stand near him in the pub, or to cross him in the street, and not want to grab him and push my lips against his? His being single didn't mean that we should be together. I almost wanted to laugh at the sheer thought of the pair of us trying to fathom a normal relationship, arguing over whose turn it was to do the dishes and who ate the last of the cereal in the morning. We'd been family for years, and friends for a lifetime. I didn't know how well that would translate into a relationship, especially after how much had happened between the two of us in the past.

As if he could read my mind, I suddenly felt large, familiar hands grace my waist. I closed my eyes and drew in a sharp intake of breath, my concerns and doubts ebbing away.

He spun me to face him. He was wearing that cocky smile that had first attracted me to him, and that still made my heart race years later. His eyes drifted down my body, before meeting my own as he gave an approving nod. I couldn't breathe.

"So…?" Liam trailed off, expectantly wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue. I couldn't stop staring at that tongue, and those lips, and thinking of how much I longed for them to touch mine.

"So…?" I scarcely whispered in response. I could feel his hands creeping around me and lacing at my back, drawing me closer to him. I gulped. "You're going to cause a riot…" He chuckled at my warning.

"You already are a riot," he murmured, tilting his forehead to rest lightly against mine. I didn't care who saw us now. "You look gorgeous."

"I know." I smirked in spite of myself. "Some weirdo keeps telling me."

"And which weirdo might that be? Do I need to beat him up?"

"Oh, he's no one important. Just some Manc with a cheeky smile and ladykiller baby blues."

"'Ladykiller'? He sounds like a right catch."

"He doesn't scrub up too badly…" I realised then that we were swaying softly. There was a faint rumbling of music still issuing from the speakers; I didn't recognize it, but it was slow. Perfect. Suddenly, Liam released me from his arms, and it took all of my restraint to not complain about it. Instead, he brushed a loose strand of hair from my face and tucked it behind my ear, before affectionately rubbing the soft pad of his thumb across the apple of my cheek.

"Every time I see you, you look more and more beautiful. At this rate, you're going to be the hottest-looking eighty-year-old that's ever graced the planet," he teased, prompting a harsh blush from my cheeks.

"Anyone would think that you were trying to get me into bed."

"Oh, no, I know that you're far too ladylike for that these days…" Liam mumbled, moving slightly closer to me so that I was able to feel the warmth of his breath against my face, "You're a changed woman, remember?" There was a beat, while I tried to regain control of my mind.

"Changed women can still let their hair down from time to time…" As his lips brushed mine, every nerve ending in my body sprung to attention, and every inch of me craved his touch like a drug that I'd spent decades trying to live without. I placed my hands on his chest, resisting the urge to bundle his shirt tightly in my fists. His tongue slid into my mouth and the kiss deepened, both of us oblivious to the gasps around us and the dozens of pairs of eyes boring into our backs. We were on display for the world to see now, but for some reason, it didn't matter. We were both single. We were content with our lives. Why not live a little and see where things took us?

The silence that had fallen over the room broke out into frantic whispers, some of disbelief, others of claims that they'd sensed it all along, that the chemistry between Liam and I had been obvious from day dot. Liam smiled against my lips and felt for my hand, which he grasped lovingly with his own, our fingers interlocked. He led me through the staring sea of faces, eyes bulging out of their sockets and jaws dropped to the floor, and outside into the bitter April air. It was late; the streetlights surrounding the area had long been switched off, covering us in darkness which was broken only by the stream of headlights provided by the run of taxis. As we approached them, Liam hesitated, turning back to me.

"That enough of a stir for you?" he joked, eyes flickering over my shoulder and back at the venue before returning to my face. I laughed.

"I didn't want to cause a stir."

"'Course you did, coming here dressed like a dream." Liam ran his hand down the curve of my waist, before toying longingly with the hem of my short dress with his thumb and forefinger. "Are you coming back to mine?" he asked. This was it. The moment of truth.

If I went home with Liam tonight, I'd probably never leave. I could kiss goodbye to my life of sunshine, sea and Sex On The Beach cocktails in Los Angeles. I don't think I'd be able to tear myself away from Liam Connor again.

But why was I contemplating that as something negative? What did I really have back in the States that I'd be missing? And could that compare to what I would miss if I went back?

My green eyes glittered mischievously, and a smile formed on my plump lips. I didn't give Liam an answer, merely turning to the nearest taxi and bending down to the driver's window. I flashed him a grin as he rolled it down.

"Number Seven, Coronation Street, please, love." I pulled the door open and slid into the leather seat, crinkling my nose at the musky stench that seemed to plague all taxis around here. It was nothing like the beautifully fragranced cabs in California. But as Liam climbed in next to me, shuffled close and wrapped an arm around my waist, that didn't matter. As his hand found mine, and he laced our fingers together and circled his thumb around the knucklebone of my index finger, I lost all sense of what I would miss back in Los Angeles. I was back where I belonged. That mattered more to me than anything else in the world. I was home.