(No Control | Holding Me Ransom - 45 - Don't Overthink, Just Let It Go)
I pull into the car park of Jess's flat, kill the engine and leap out of the car, Tesco carrier bag in hand. I fidget nervously as I walk to the front door of the block, wondering whether she will just send me away without seeing me. Considering the mood she is in, I wouldn't be surprised.
I press the buzzer to her flat and peer at my reflection in the glass of the front door. I look a bit manic.
"Door's on the latch," comes through the speaker, crackly but undeniably Jess, followed by the buzz of the front door lock, signalling permission to enter. I frown as I push the door open.
Is she expecting someone? She wouldn't be expecting me, surely? And after her tone on the phone earlier, I wouldn't assume to be let in without question like this. I take the stairs two at a time to the door of her flat and pause for a moment before pushing the door gently with my hand.
"In the lounge, babe," she calls.
Babe. Babe. Oh my God - who is she expecting? A man? Gary? Adam?
"Who are you calling 'babe'?" I ask fearfully as I enter the lounge, and then almost jump out of my skin as she springs off the sofa with a small squeak of surprise, turning to face me and clutching her chest with one hand.
"Callie," she says breathlessly, and I inwardly sigh with relief. "I thought you were Callie."
"Nope. Just me," I say, feeling a bit idiotic at turning up like this when she clearly has plans and a life - both of which no longer involve me. "Sorry to disappoint," I add.
"You could never disappoint," she says, almost to herself, and then her cheeks blush a soft pink. I feel my mouth breaking into a smile at the sight of her vulnerability and beauty. Fuck, I've missed her so much.
"What are you doing here?" she asks, a little more evenly. "I thought you were... busy this week."
Did I imagine it or did she hesitate part way through that sentence? I can't meet her gaze.
"You said you'd had a bad day, and Mother Nature was being unkind to you," I mutter. "I thought maybe you'd appreciate some comforts."
I swing the carrier bag in my hand a little halfheartedly, and her gaze flicks to it momentarily, and then back up to my face. We're standing about six feet apart, staring at each other. It couldn't feel more awkward. I clear my throat.
"So, I stopped at Tesco Express and got you a Double Decker," I explain, feeling even more stupid at this meagre offering as I pull it out of the bag and hand it to her, "some cherry ice cream - " (she takes this from me wordlessly) "and, uh, some girl supplies."
I mutter this last part and shove them into her hands without looking at her, feeling heat rise in my face. This all seemed like such a good idea half an hour ago. In reality, I look like a cross between the desperate ex, and a crazy stalker. It's unnerving to realise that I have actually become a morph of the two.
"Oh," she says simply.
Silence. So of course, I fill it with mindless chatter.
"I don't know which you, um, use, so I got both," I add unnecessarily.
I reach into the bag and pull out the fluffy hot water bottle that now looks like something you would find in an eight year old's bedroom. "I also got you this," I explain, cringing as I hand it to her. "And I brought you one of my hoodies, since you said your favourite one was in the wash."
I reach into the carrier again and hand her the second-hand tatty hoodie, and then ball up the empty carrier bag in my hands resolutely. I literally have never felt less cool. "It doesn't really fit me anymore, it's a bit small now," I say, in a rush. "I thought it would probably fit you, though. You can keep it, if you want. Since, uh, my Green Bay one is no more."
Fuck. Fuck! She doesn't know I know about her chucking out my Green Bay hoodie. How am I going to explain that if she asks?! I doubt she knows I've been speaking to Callie.
She is staring at me with a strange look on her face, and my heart drops as my mind races to come up with an explanation for my words.
"Thank you," she says, softly, taking me completely by surprise. "I don't know what to say. This is the sweetest thing ever."
Oh. OK, not what I was expecting. We'll go with this, though.
"It's nothing," I say, as casually as I can. "You sounded really fed up on the phone, so I just thought it might cheer you up."
"How did you know I wanted a Double Decker?" she asks. "And cherry ice cream?"
"You told me they were your favourites, once," I mutter, praying she doesn't kick me out for my stalkerish behaviour.
"Did I? When? I don't remember that."
Thankfully her tone is soft, rather than accusatory.
"Maybe you don't, but I do," I admit. "It was when we went out for dinner in LA, and you were mocking my accent."
She gives a wry smile.
"I often mock your accent."
"That is true," I concede, starting to relax a little.
"That is true," she mocks on cue, and I frown at her, trying to keep my face straight.
"I just brought you comfort in a carrier bag," I remind her, testing the water with a mild tease. "You're not allowed to take the piss."
"You're not allowed to take the piss," she says, in a perfect imitation of not only my accent but my frown also, and I press my lips together to contain a smile, and shake my head.
"Thin ice," I declare, and she grins at me. My heart soars.
"Do you want a cup of tea or something?" she asks.
"I thought you'd never ask." I can't help smirking. I feel uncontrollably giddy.
"OK, well... make yourself at home," she shrugs, gesturing vaguely towards the sofa.
As I enter the room fully she slides past me to walk into the kitchen, and I catch the scent of her hair - that tropical shampoo smell. I feel lightheaded.
I take a deep breath and sit down on the sofa. Titanic is playing on the television, and I fidget around, leaning back against the cushions, then laying one leg across the other with my arm across the back of the sofa. She seems OK with me and I'm taking her teasing as a good sign. So far, so good.
She returns a couple of minutes later with two cups of tea, sits down next to me and pulls a blanket over our legs. My heart begins to pound.
"What's with the chick flick?" I ask.
"Just felt like watching a soppy film."
"Don't start crying on me," I tease, but she says nothing. The atmosphere shifts instantly, and not in a good way.
"So why was your day shit?" I ask after a few moments of silence, trying to break the tension.
"Just was," she mumbles. She's put a wall up. I want to ask why, but I'm afraid of the answer.
More silence. I stare at the TV and watch the old woman arriving on the submarine in the helicopter.
"Where's your special boot?" she asks, suddenly.
"I left it at home," I reply. "It's annoying."
She doesn't respond.
"I don't like this beginning bit," I say, a little too loudly, in an attempt at neutralising the atmosphere. "It seems to drag on forever. I like the bit where Jack and Rose's story starts, where she looks up from underneath that big hat."
"Yeah," she mutters.
That part follows a minute or two later, and I turn to look at her with a silly grin on my face. "See? Now I feel like the story's properly beginning. It makes me sad that they haven't got a clue they're nearly all doomed, though."
"Don't," she mutters, and I look over to her, clocking her sad expression. I just want to cuddle her.
On impulse I lift my arm, indicating she can come closer if she wants, and to my surprise and delight she shifts position and leans into me, her head resting on my chest, just under my chin. My heart rate increases, and I silently pray she doesn't notice.
This however, is the least of my worries as I feel a tingling in my nether regions at the close contact. Clearly little Harry thinks he is getting some action, and this only turns my thoughts somewhere they really should not be going. Her arm is resting on my thigh as I rest mine around her shoulders, and now all I can think about is her reaching into my pants...
For fuck's sake, now I've got a boner and I'm only wearing a pair of thin jogging pants. Oh well, we're covered by a blanket so I pray it will disappear before she gets a chance to notice. This film isn't exactly going to set my loins on fire.
I hear a small sniff from Jess, and I look down at her in surprise.
"Are you crying?!"
"No," she lies thickly.
"You are - what's the matter?" I ask softly, but to my horror she pushes the blanket off our laps and stands up, leaving the tent in my joggers blindingly obvious.
"Nothing," she lies again, as I grab the blanket and dump it back on my lap to hide my erection. "Do you want more tea?"
"I want you to tell me why you're upset."
"Because I'm a girl and I'm watching a sad film," she says in a monotone, and before I can answer she gathers up our half-drunk, still-warm drinks and almost runs into the kitchen away from me.
Well at least it's killed the mood. My boner is shrinking fast. I wait a few more seconds to let it die completely, and then follow her to the doorway of the kitchen, where she is standing with her back to me, leaning against the worktop with both hands.
"Jess?"
"I'm fine," she says, in a voice laden with tears.
I approach her, not caring that we're not together anymore and I'm probably crossing a line. I can't bear to watch her cry and do nothing to comfort her. I put my arms around her as she turns around and melts against me, weeping softly.
"Why won't you tell me what's wrong?" I ask with a sigh.
"It's nothing," she insists, between sobs.
"It's not nothing if it makes you cry," I point out gently, and her arms slide around my waist as her face presses into my chest. I bend my head and kiss her hair delicately, breathing in her calming scent.
"I'm just being stupid, ignore me," she mumbles, and there's something about the way she says it tells me she knows. She knows about Georgia; she's seen it all on Twitter, no doubt. The question is, why is she so bothered?
"What are you crying about?" I ask again, more firmly this time, and she pulls away from me and turns back to the kettle without looking at me. "Jess," I press.
She hands me a fresh cup of tea, still avoiding my gaze. "Do you want some ice cream?" she asks, pulling a couple of spoons out of the kitchen drawer and walking past me, her eyes fixed on the floor, back towards the lounge where the ice cream is waiting, probably half melted by now.
I let my arms flop to my sides as I follow her, unsure whether to continue to question her when she clearly doesn't want to talk. I join her on the sofa again, my mind whirring as I churn over a hundred different possible approaches to this.
"Who's Georgia Fowler?" she blurts suddenly, around a mouthful of cherry ice cream, taking me completely by surprise.
I stare down at my lap, caught off guard and feeling immediately guilty. "A girl I know. She's a model for Victoria's Secret."
"Who is she to you?" she emphasises, and I look her hard in the eye.
"No one."
A look of confusion flashes across her face. "What do you mean?"
Oh fuck. Here it is: the moment of confession. Will she ever want anything to do with me again when I tell her I went on a date with another girl? Her misery is confusing me, leading me to believe she might still care about us. Why else would she be upset? I hope I'm not reading this wrong.
Time to be completely honest.
"I was supposed to be spending a couple of days with her down in Somerset," I begin, nervously. "She contacted Modest and asked to meet up with me. I wasn't going to do it, but then I thought what the hell, I have nothing to lose." I can't look at her as I speak, and keep my eyes fixed on the television. " You'd made it clear you only wanted to be friends, so I decided to go." She's staring at me - I can see her out of the corner of my eye. "Anyway, today she posted videos and pictures of me on her snapchat. So I got the fuck out of there," I spit.
There is a moment of silence, until she asks tentatively, "So... you didn't know she was going to post them?"
"What do you think?" I snap, looking at her for the first time to see her staring back at me with wide eyes that quickly avert when she hears the fury in my tone.
"Sorry," she apologises.
"It didn't even enter my head that she would do anything like that," I admit, feeing embarrassed at my own naivety. "She's been in the industry long enough to know how these things work. So it just reaffirmed my belief that I can't fucking trust anyone except my own family. And you."
"Oh God, Harry," she says, and the pity in her tone is unconcealable. "I just assumed you were an item or something."
I could almost laugh at this, if it weren't so painfully raw.
"No," I reply, bluntly. "I won't be seeing her again. I only did it to try and get over you, and it was a fucking disaster from start to finish."
"I'm so sorry," she says sadly, tilting her head to look at me. Is that concern in her eyes?
"Why?" I hear myself snap. "It's not your fault. It sucks being me. I'm used to it."
I know I shouldn't be lashing out, but I can't bear her pity. But a moment later she leans back towards me again and I can't help putting my arm around her shoulders to pull her close against me. The heat from her body floods into mine, calming me instantly. I take a discreet deep breath and close my eyes momentarily, letting her soft scent wash over me.
She puts the ice cream tub on the floor and cuddles up to me, making my heart rate increase again.
"Did you sleep with her?" she asks, in a voice barely above a whisper.
"No."
"Did you kiss her?"
Fuck. I don't want to admit to this, but I know I have to.
"Yeah. Yesterday." I mutter, unable to look at her as I speak. "But not today."
I fully anticipate further questions, but instead I am met with a wall of silence, and I follow her lead and keep quiet, my heart now pounding and my fingers absently tracing circles on her thigh while I contemplate my next move. It's like a fucking game of chess.
She presses her cheek against my chest, snuggling in closer to me, and the tingle begins again in my dick. The air in the room suddenly seems thick and tense, and I swallow hard and stare at the television without seeing it. I am acutely aware that my fingers are mere millimetres from her skin as I stroke her thigh through her pants, and she is fiddling with the bottom of my hoodie. I am doing everything I can not to think about kissing her, but it isn't working. Her lips are all I can think about.
I feel her gaze on me and I look down at her, feeling a stab of nerves in the pit of my stomach as our eyes lock. Her expression is intense and serious, almost to the point of sultry. This really isn't helping my boner. My heart is hammering in my chest harder than ever, and I tear my eyes from hers and look back at the television, trying to formulate a thought that doesn't involve sex.
I can't.
She is still watching me, and my dick is now throbbing. I look back at her, desire flaring through my veins, and I hold her gaze this time, my breathing audibly increasing.
"OK, you're going to have to stop looking at me like that," I tell her, and it comes out deep and husky. She doesn't reply, but maintains eye contact almost defiantly. It's like she's laying the guantlet down, challenging me. It's the biggest turn on.
I shift my position and she sits up so her face is level with mine, her eyes unblinking. I watch as she licks her lips in a nervous gesture, showing a flicker of vulnerability amidst her defiance. I hesitate only for a moment before I feel myself leaning towards her, drawn by an inexplicable force called love, craving the touch of her mouth on mine. Her lips are soft and trembling; warm and familiar. I linger for only a second before pulling back to gauge her reaction, too afraid of rejection to push my luck. Her eyes are still closed as I pull away, and she opens them and watches me. I wait, letting her call the shots.
She leans in to me again, her eyes closing slowly, and presses her lips to mine once, and then twice, gently but firmly, as though answering my kiss with two of her own. She pulls away and looks at me with less uncertainty this time, but definite tenderness. She looks so young and pure, and it is driving me wild.
I tuck a stray blonde curl behind her ear and any hesitance I had previously quickly disappears. I lean towards her, closing the physical and metaphorical gap between us, and press my lips to hers again, confident that she will not push me away. She wants this as much as I do. When it comes to her desire, I can read her like a book. I cup the back of her neck as her fingers slide up my chest to my shoulders, and she leans back, pulling me on top of her so I am nestling between her legs, my erection pressing exactly where I want it to be.
Her mouth is warm and wet, and makes me think of other places that are also warm and wet. I can't help pushing my hips against her, nudging her with my erection, in case she in is any doubt about the effect she has on me. She moans softly in response, and I press harder. I am ready to explode.
"Jess," I murmur into her mouth, and she moans again. Christ, I'm so hard it hurts.
She strokes the back of my neck, and I slip my hand beneath the hem of her top, trailing my fingers slowly up her body until I reach the soft curve of her breast. She doesn't stop me, and as I graze my thumb gently against her nipple I am rewarded by her loudest whimper yet, and her hips thrusting towards mine. I let out a grunt of desire, squeezing her whole breast in my hand gently, and rubbing my crotch against hers. Fuck, that feels good.
"Harry," she pants between kisses. "You - you know we can't take this any further."
Her voice sounds strangled and regretful. Of course - she said earlier she was on her period, and I know from previous experience that this is a no-go for her.
"I know," I murmur. "But... it doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you," I add hopefully, thrusting my hips against her like before, so she closes her eyes briefly. This feels way too good. I stroke her nipple with my fingertips, and she lets out a ragged breath.
"It does bother me," she says breathlessly, and I nod.
I mean, I would never push her to do something she didn't feel comfortable with.
"OK," I accept, and she gasps at my touch and pushes her hips hard against me, sending a jolt of pleasure to my groin. She's pressing in just the right place, and I'm struggling to keep it together here. Her tongue continues to slide against mine temptingly, and her hands squeeze my waist, pulling me hard against her as I thrust back and forth gently. We're practically dry humping, and she is actively encouraging it. I know I should stop, as I'm starting to enjoy myself a little too much. I can feel my thrusts becoming faster and longer as I rub my erection against her through our clothes, focussing on the slippery feel of her tongue, the hardness of her nipple between my fingertips and the heat of her breath in my face. Her hips are pushing faster against mine now, and I wonder if this is enough stimulation to make her come.
Big mistake.
I hadn't fully realised just how close I was, and the thought of her coming underneath me like this just tips me over the edge, completely without warning. I let out a groan - a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment - as I start to come in my fucking boxers. I break our kiss and hide my face in her neck as it peaks, muttering curse words, and fuck, it is good. It's been a long time since I had any sort of action like this.
That said, it is seriously embarrassing that I am apparently unable to control myself.
Once it begins to fade I slow my movement and come to a stop, panting into her neck and praying she understands what has just happened so I don't have to explain myself.
"Fuck," I swear, completely mortified. "Sorry."
And then, of all the things she could say:
"No Contro-o-o-ol."
She sings the line of the song and I can't help but give a chuckle against her skin, still too ashamed to look at her.
"Are you OK?" she asks. "Was that good?"
She's grinning, I can tell.
"Mmmm," I murmur, noncommittally. I want the ground to open up and swallow me. Any time now would be great.
She wiggles her shoulder where my head is resting, and I can't help grinning too.
"Look at me," she says, with the same smile in her voice.
"No."
"Why?" she chuckles.
"I feel shy," I admit, grinning stupidly.
"Why are you shy?" She's fucking enjoying this.
"'m embarrassed," I mutter. "Got a bit carried away."
"Yeah, so I could tell."
I groan, pushing my face into the crook of her neck and cringing with shame. This is definitely the worst moment of my life. Worse than when Liam pulled my pants down on stage during What Makes You Beautiful (I still hold onto them every time I perform my solo), and worse than the time I fluffed that same solo during a live performance and made a complete tit out of myself in front of thousands of people. That video still does the rounds on the internet, and I absolutely hate it. However, the humiliation on both of those occasions was nothing compared to right now.
"Sorry," I apologise, lifting my head to look at her. "It's been a while, y'know?"
"Tell me about it," she teases, and I let my head fall onto her chest with a soft chuckle.
"I'm really sorry."
"It's fine."
She's still smiling, and I look up into her eyes again. In an instant the atmosphere shifts again, and my heart rate that had just been slowing down speeds up again. Realisation dawns that we have just crossed a massive line, and have moved from not-even-friends to... well, I don't even know what this is, apart from mortifying.
We look into each other's eyes for a few seconds, our expressions serious, and I act upon impulse, leaning forward and kissing her softly again. She doesn't stop me, but kisses me back delicately, allowing my fingers to slide back up her side again towards her breast.
She wants me to carry on touching her. Could I make her come like this? Hell, if it worked for me...
Before I can go any further with this line of thought there is a crash out in the hallway that signals the door of her flat opening, and a vaguely familiar voice calls,
"Hiya babe, the front door was open so I just let myself in, hope you don't mind."
I leap to my feet and land in something ice cold and wet - the discarded half-full ice cream tub. "Fuck!" I yelp in surprise, as Jess pulls her tshirt back down, her face flushed.
Callie walks in and eyes me with distaste. She has the ability to make anyone feel like shit with a simple look.
"What the fucķ?" she asks. "What's he doing here?"
Nice.
"Long story," Jess says, her voice sounding unusually high. "He popped round unexpectedly."
I yank my wet sock off, muttering an unenthusiastic hello to Callie, which she returns, equally unenthusiastically.
"Do you want me to leave you to it?" she asks Jess.
I look up at Jess expectantly, as she answers, "What? Don't be silly, of course not!"
Well, thanks for making me feel welcome.
I frown, and she adds (to me), "Callie's come round for a girls' night. That's why the door was open when you arrived."
"Oh," I reply flatly, more than a little disappointed. "Do you want me to go, or..?"
"Yes," Callie answers for Jess, and takes my place on the sofa with a face like thunder. I look at Jess for guidance, and she inclines her head to indicate I should follow her out of the room into the hallway.
"I'm sorry," she whispers as soon as we are out of earshot of the witch. "This was already planned. She called me up before in tears. She's having relationship problems."
"Aren't we all," I mutter.
"Sorry," she offers, reluctantly. "I need to be there for her."
"What am I supposed to do?" I hiss. "Drive home with... this in my shorts?"
I feel sticky and uncomfortable, thanks to my overexcitement earlier.
"You can have a shower here if you want?" she suggests, a faint smirk flitting across her face.
"No, it's fine, I'll go," I sigh impatiently. "But I'm not going to be back for like ten days now."
"What?!"
She has clearly forgotten the tour schedule.
"We fly to Ireland tomorrow and we're there until the twenty-third," I remind her. "I was hoping we could talk properly before I go. In person," I can't help adding pointedly.
A conversation about what happened tonight needs to take place face to face, not on the phone or over text. The tables have turned sharply, and now I know she still harbours some sort of unresolved feelings for me, I'm not going to let her go without a fight.
"I'm sorry," she says, and she looks painfully conflicted. "But I can't tonight."
"Fine," I sigh.
"Please don't be cross," she pleads. "Can I see you on the twenty-third when you're back? Please?"
I can't be angry with her for honouring an arrangement with a friend, can I? Even if it is with the devil incarnate.
"Yeah, I'd like that," I smile softly. "Are you... are you ready to talk? About everything?"
"Yeah, if you are?" She returns my smile with genuine affection, but I can't help questioning the timing of it all. Did it really take seeing me with another girl and thinking I'd moved on to make her want me again? Am I massively overthinking this?
"Yeah," I nod, trying not to allow this thought to take seed in my mind.
"What's going on?" Callie asks from right behind me, making us both jump.
"Nothing," we answer, in unison.
"Are you two back together?" she asks suspiciously.
"No!" we both answer, and I catch Callie's eye. She is wearing the most murderous expression, it takes me by surprise. Jess looks up at me, and over her shoulder I see Callie slowly shaking her head at me with her lips pressed together in a hard line, clearly warning me off Jess. As Jess turns to look at Callie, she quickly wipes the look of death from her face and smiles serenely. Behind Jess' back I frown in confusion at Callie and shrug. Surely she wants Jess to be happy, and if I am the person to make her happy, then Callie should be happy too, right?
After a couple of seconds where nobody speaks, I realise we have reached a stalemate.
"I'll leave you to it," I concede, and I slip past them both to the front door and pick my keys up from the hall table.
"Bye," Callie says sarcastically, and then adds, "Try not to bump into any Victoria's Secret models on your way out."
Ah. Now I understand. She thinks I'm messing Jess around.
I look at her and try to think of a way to explain this, but settle for an ambiguous, "I'll text you," which is meant for both of them, but Jess assumes is aimed at her.
"OK," Jess replies softly, and after a slight hesitation, (where I am fighting the urge to kiss her goodbye) I smile at her softly and leave.
---***---
Did everyone have a good Christmas?? I've eaten myself into a food coma at every opportunity and I'm not even sorry.
What was your favourite present this year? And did you like this chapter? It was a fun one to write! Sorry the updates are slow these days. I don't get much time for Wattpad, but I'm logging on as often as I can. Thanks, as always for reading! Votes and comments are appreciated xxx