February 2016
A few of the One Direction update accounts reported that I had followed Harry again on Twitter (and accompanied this news with the old articles written about us in March 2015, and the pictures taken of us leaving his house after our first night together, and our date at C London) but overall this was overshadowed by Harry's "dig" at Taylor Swift with his birthday tweet, and we celebrated yet another small victory at keeping our private life relatively private, although we both laughingly agreed this would have been more beneficial to us eleven months ago.
We enjoyed an amazing birthday lunch for Harry in a secluded, low-key restaurant away from the eyes of the paparazzi with Anne and Robin, Jeff and Glenne, Kendall and her boyfriend Jordan, Harry's friend Xander, and James and Julia Corden. This was followed by an amazing dinner that evening with even more of Harry's friends. We managed to stay under the radar the whole day, which was surprising considering it was his birthday and the paps would no doubt have been on high alert for any sightings of him. I was glad, as it was nice to see him enjoying himself with the people he loved without constantly looking over his shoulder to see who might be filming it all.
Our luck ran out the following day though when we went into Beverly Hills for a mooch and ran into a photographer outside the YSL shop. To be fair, we weren't exactly incognito: Harry was wearing a bright blue Hawaiian shirt with his trademark black skinnies and chelsea boots, and looking very Harry Styles. I hung back so it wasn't obvious we were together, walking through the door a few seconds behind him and heading over to the opposite side of the shop while he browsed. He texted me after a minute:
From: Harry: Do you want to leave separately or together? If you're pictured with me now after following me again on Twitter only yesterday, our cover is completely blown x
To: Harry: I want to go public on our terms, not by accident because we got caught off guard by a pap x
From: Harry: Separately, then. I'll leave first and turn left back towards the car. I'll let him get some good shots of me to keep his attention. You leave right behind me but turn right and wait for me on the end of the block. I'll get the car and come and pick you up x
To: Harry: We're far too good at this xxx
From: Harry: Love you xxx
I watched from behind a rail of clothes as Harry slipped his sunglasses on, darted a brief glance in my direction (his lips twitched into the faintest smirk) and walked towards the door. I followed about ten feet behind, just far enough away to keep out of the pap's shot (hopefully) and walked off the opposite way to Harry, resisting the temptation to look back at him as I heard the camera clicks and the excited shout of the pap who obviously believed he'd hit today's jackpot. Harry picked me up a couple of minutes later as arranged, and we exchanged smug looks as we headed back home, and even smugger looks when the pictures surfaced on Twitter less than an hour later of Harry browsing in the YSL shop alone, and heading back to his car, also alone.
We spent Thursday with Jeff, and then in the evening Harry wanted to take me to Ysabel in West Hollywood for dinner, just the two of us, while Anne and Robin went to watch Kevin Hart's live show. It was my second-to-last night in LA before I was due to fly home, and I wanted to make an effort to look good (and I also was aware Harry was frequently spotted at Ysabel, and wanted to be one step ahead of any lurking photographers.)
I put on a short, lace peach dress with little cap sleeves, and when Harry emerged from the bathroom and saw me he did a double take. "Oh! The fuck-me dress!"
He instantly snapped his mouth shut as I stared at him. "The what?!" I exclaimed, and his cheeks flushed a rosy pink.
He cleared his throat. "It's the dress you bought when you first came over to LA last year. I was with you when you got it."
"Yes," I nodded slowly, looking at my reflection in the mirror. "I remember. You convinced me to buy it. Why did you call it the fuck-me dress?"
He tilted his head to the side, regarding me with mild exasperation. "Really? Do you want me to spell it out?"
I chuckled. "Well - no, but I was after the meaning behind it."
"You look hot as fuck in it," he said, in a resigned tone. "I watched you try on a zillion dresses, but that one stood out because you just took my breath away when I saw you. So I privately nicknamed it the fuck-me dress. I did tell you the other day that I lost all my cool around you from day one."
"You are so unbelievably cute," I murmured, sliding my arms around his neck and kissing him softly on the lips.
"No," he chastised, pretending to be affronted. "I think you mean manly."
"Yes," I nodded seriously. "That is exactly what I meant."
"You know there's a high chance we could get papped tonight," he said softly, looking into my eyes in a way that made my knees wobble and my stomach flip.
"Yeah, I sort of thought that might be the case," I replied.
"Do you want to let them get pictures of us together?"
"Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt," I answered carefully. "A couple of pictures of us having dinner together could pave the way for letting the world know."
"Exactly what I was thinking," he nodded, with finality. "We can play it by ear; see what the vibe is."
But of course typically, because we were prepared to be spotted, there were no paparazzi around when we arrived at Ysabel. We enjoyed a quiet meal, with a small interruption from a few fans who asked for pictures with Harry (which of course he obliged, on the condition that they wait until he had left before posting them on social media), and made it back to Harry's car and home again without a single unwanted camera in our faces.
The fuck-me dress went down a treat that night, as I remembered it had the first night I'd worn it in LA when Harry had taken me to Craig's for a meal, and then to the nightclub Project. It struck me as funny how he had been so bowled over by this outfit when I'd bought it and yet I had never known, and it had also been reassuring to hear he had been just as into me as I had been into him in the early days.
We were out for dinner again on Friday night (my clothes were feeling tighter by the day) with Jeff and another friend of Harry's called Justin, but it wasn't a particularly late one as Harry seemed to make excuses to get away, and we were home and cuddled up in bed watching TV that night before Anne and Robin. We discussed at length Harry's plans for the next couple of weeks in LA before his scheduled return home on the twenty first.
"I'll make sure I'm spotted shopping in Beverly Hills or something, on the day I'm flying back," he said, as I nestled in the crook of his arm while he stroked my hair. "It'll buy me a couple of days' privacy when I get home, as long as I'm not spotted at either airport."
"I love it when you use your celebrity status to your own advantage," I grinned. "It must be very satisfying for you. It certainly is for me."
He chuckled softly. "It can be, sometimes. Are you looking forward to your flight with Louis tomorrow?"
"Well, I'm not looking forward to flying home, away from you," I said truthfully. "But it'll be more fun travelling with him than flying by myself."
"He's going to be in full show-off mode," Harry grumbled, and I lifted my head from his shoulder to look at him. He caught my eye briefly and then pulled his pillow over his head with a huff, to hide his face.
"I thought we were over this," I teased, poking his ribs with my index finger, making him squirm and giggle.
"We are," he mumbled, from the depths of memory foam.
"Really?" I demanded, grinning as I whisked the pillow off his head. "You might want to let your face know."
I squealed as he launched himself on top of me, pinned me to the bed and tickled me mercilessly. "Say sorry!" he commanded.
"Harry!" I screamed, breathlessly.
"Say it!"
"Sorry!" I choked, and his fingers ceased as he surveyed me with a hint of smugness, raising one eyebrow in triumph.
"Should think so too," he retorted, grinning as I panted beneath him and tried to catch my breath. "Now, what to do with you as I've got you completely under my control...."
"You could fuck me senseless," I shrugged, casually, and his lips twisted together delightfully as he cocked his head to the side and raised both eyebrows at my suggestion.
"I could," he acknowledged. "But I really shouldn't reward such poor behaviour."
"It would be mutually beneficial," I reasoned, pulling his face down to mine and kissing his lips softly.
"True," he conceded, allowing me to break away from his lips and kiss his neck. I heard him sigh, and felt his throat move as he swallowed.
"So what do you say..?" I whispered as I reached his ear and planted another gentle kiss on his pulse point.
"I say... I've never truly got you under my control because it is, and always has been, completely the other way around," he whispered back, his lips pressing softly onto mine, tasting mildly of toothpaste and deliciously of Harry.
"I categorically refute this claim," I breathed as I melted against him, my body aching for his touch. "I'm the one with no control, remember."
"No control," he repeated, in between kisses as his hand slipped under my camisole and trailed across my flushed skin. "Hardly. You're the one holding me ransom."
I looked up at him and rolled my eyes, and he flashed his eyebrows at me, grinning, and nudged his hips forward so I could feel the bulge in his boxer shorts.
"It should be holding me to ransom," I corrected, skating my fingers down his stomach to the waistband of his shorts. "The words are wrong; they don't make sense."
He pulled a face at me. "Seriously?"
"Yep," I nodded. "And don't even get me started on You and I."
"What's wrong with You and I?"
"Nothing can come between You and I," I quoted. "It should be nothing can come between you and me. It's grammatically incorrect. It drives me insane."
"Wow," he remarked, his eyebrows raised. "Any other lyrical potholes you want to highlight, while we're discussing it?"
"Plenty, but I thought you were supposed to be fucking me senseless."
"She says, without even a trace of innocence," he quipped, as I dipped my hand in his shorts and gripped him gently, causing his eyes to close. "Oh baby yeah," he murmured, pushing forward slightly so my hand slipped down his length. "I'm powerless, but I don't care, it's obvious."
"What's with all the No Control puns?" I chuckled as his lips landed on mine again and he lay his full weight on top of me. "They're a bit corny."
"Would you say they're sweet and sour?" he grinned.
"You've lost your senses," I teased, and he gave one of his short, squeaky, shouty laughs.
"Nice," he said approvingly. "Now come on. I've got a loaded gun here for you."
"I'm defenceless," I added, as I moved my hand up and down faster and his lips made their way down my neck and he slipped my camisole strap off my shoulder.
"Alright, that's enough," he scolded, and I flicked his back with my free hand, causing a low throaty chuckle this time.
"Thin ice, Styles," I warned, and I felt his lips curl into a smile against my skin as he lowered his body onto mine.
~~~
Our goodbye the following afternoon was less emotional than previous departures, as I knew Harry would be home in just over two weeks, and I was actually rather looking forward to hanging out with Louis and his family for twelve hours (my inner fangirl would never truly die.) I hugged Anne and Robin, and kissed Harry about a hundred times, to the point where Louis hauled himself out of the car impatiently, forcibly separated us and dragged me by the hand into the backseat of the black Mercedes.
I waved to Harry until we had left his driveway and were on our way down the road and out of sight.
"Fucking hell, you're gonna be seeing him in a few days," Louis moaned as I finally turned back around in my seat and fastened my seat belt.
"Two weeks," I corrected. "And I'll miss him! Hi Lottie."
"I bet," he smirked, resting his head back in his seat. It didn't take a genius to work out where his mind had ventured.
Lottie slapped his arm. "Stop being crude. Hi, Jess."
"What?!" he protested indignantly, lifting his head to glare at Lottie. "I never said a thing!"
"You were being disgusting," she scolded.
"Was not."
"Were too."
"Children," I chastised, sternly. "Enough."
"Sorry," said Louis sarcastically, exchanging amused looks with Lottie. "Did you leave your sense of humour at Harry's house?"
I couldn't think of a comeback for this, so I settled for sticking my tongue out at him, resigning myself to the fact that he had won that round.
"How's Freddie?" I asked, after a minute.
"Awesome," he beamed. "I'm gutted to be leaving him so soon, but I've got commitments at home over the next couple of weeks. I'll be back soon enough though."
"I bet he'll miss you," I said. "At least you've got facetime and stuff."
"Yeah, and I left a picture of me with Briana, and made her promise to show it to Freddie every day," he said, and Lottie snickered.
"Did you sign it?" she joked. "His first piece of merch."
"Fuck off," Louis smiled, goodnaturedly. "It's an investment for the lad. It'll be worth a fortune by the time he's grown up."
"Or it'll be in the bargain bin at Poundland," she quipped, and Louis put his whole hand over her face and pushed her head sharply while she laughed.
We arrived at LAX and drove around to a private entrance where we were ushered in, avoiding any unwanted attention. I greeted the rest of Louis' family as we checked our bags in, and we were escorted to the jet by some of the airport staff, and managed to board without being seen by fans or paparazzi.
"Sit here," Louis instructed, taking the aisle seat at the very back of the jet and patting the empty window seat next to him as I pulled my phone out of my hand luggage and stowed the small bag in one of the overhead lockers. Lottie took the single seat across the aisle from us, and immediately pulled out her phone and snapped a selfie on Snapchat, holding her fingers in a peace sign with her face turned towards me and Louis and her back to the window, ensuring she was the only person in the shot. I briefly wondered if this innate awareness of potential publicity would become second nature for me or if I would forever be conscious of it; repeatedly checking my location services were off, and that my snapchats and tweets contained nothing that could give away my affiliation with Harry or his friends and family.
"So, tell me more about Danielle," I said to Louis once we were in the air, and he spent a good hour chatting about her, about how they had met, about how much they had hit it off and how excited he was that things were getting serious between them.
"Has she met Freddie yet?" I asked.
"No, but when I'm back in LA she will," he answered. "Briana's not keen on the idea; she says she doesn't want Freddie becoming attached to someone that might not be a long term presence in his life. But Danielle is part of my life, and I want her to get to know Freddie."
"I can see where you're coming from," I said. "But I can also see why Briana might be hesitant. Would you want another man taking on a father-figure role in Freddie's life?"
"No," Louis admitted. "But I think Briana's using that as an excuse because she's jealous of me and Danielle."
"Well, if that's the case it isn't fair to you," I reasoned. "If she's got Freddie's best interests at heart then I think that's great, but not if she's using him as a weapon against you and Danielle. But I don't know her well enough to guess whether or not she would do something like that. The one time I met her she seemed really nice."
"Yeah, I wanted to thank you properly for that," he said, turning to me and meeting my eyes with his. "That was so lovely to bring a present for Briana. She was really touched. She's been getting a hard time from the so-called fans, and it's been getting her down a lot."
"It was nothing special," I shrugged, feeling embarrassed at Louis bringing this up and staring at me so intently.
"It was. It meant a lot to her, and it really cheered her up. No matter what, she's Freddie's mum and she's doing an amazing job. I wish people would stop trolling her, and saying Freddie's not real, and that she was never pregnant. It hurts us both."
"I can imagine," I said softly.
"So yeah... thanks for making her feel accepted," he continued. "It's because of who I am that she's been getting so much shit. It was nice for someone connected to me to make the effort, and it meant a lot - to me and to her."
"You're welcome," I blushed, feeling my heart beating faster under Louis' scrutiny.
He smirked at my discomfort, and then looked away up the aisle at the air hostess coming towards us. "I think they're serving food now. Are you hungry?"
I rolled my eyes. "You know me. I never pass up food."
He chuckled. "How could I forget?"
"I suppose I'd better be prepared for my appetite to be judged, once my relationship with Harry is public knowledge," I sighed as our meals were set down on the tables in front of us. "I'm sure everyone will have a comment to make on my weight, my appearance, my dress-sense..."
"Course they will," Louis mumbled, around a mouthful of pasta. "But you just have to put the nasty comments down to jealousy, and accept the compliments. Or better still, don't read them at all. And never google yourself. You'll go from nought to pissed off in about three seconds because every article you stumble across will be bullshit. Save yourself the aggro."
"Roger that," I nodded, and caught sight of his mouth twisting into his familiar smirk.
"Haven't you been rogered enough this past week?"
I set my cutlery down with an exasperated sigh. "Don't you ever get tired of imagining me and Harry and having sex?"
He grinned at me and flashed his eyebrows. "Nope. Never."
"Louis!" I hissed, gently punching his arm as a furious blush rose in my cheeks at this audacious retort that I hadn't been expecting.
"I'll never lie to you, Jessie," he added, his grin widening as he looked down at his meal and took another forkful of food.
"Really?" I challenged. "OK then. Why did Harry have no chill over me when you were on tour last year?"
Louis laughed, and then choked on his pasta and put his hand over his mouth while I watched, grinning, as he took a sip of water before answering.
"Love, the guy was smitten from your first date. It was fucking hilarous. You were all we heard about because you were all he talked about. I had to confiscate his phone during sound check once, because he was hanging on your every word, replying to your messages immediately, mooning around, rereading all your texts and generally having no fucking chill."
I laughed delightedly and this seemed to spur Louis on.
"I remember when he first told me about you, and he was stressing over whether to ask you out on a date after your, er, little liaison." He grinned again, and looked up at me as my blush deepened. "And then he rang me the next day at the crack of dawn - it woke me up and everything - because you'd liked one of his tweets or something, and he didn't know what to do. I was like, for fuck's sake have some chill, and he was all like I've had chill and we're back on tour tomorrow and it's too late to ask her out blah blah blah, so I told him to man up and ask you if you wanted to go for dinner that night."
"And he did," I smiled.
"Yep," Louis nodded. "I take full credit for Harry's balls." His face fell as I began to laugh again.
"Wait, I didn't mean... fuck's sake... see how this Larry shit gets taken out of context?" he said exasperatedly. "You make one throwaway remark, and it becomes another conspiracy theory."
"I know," I giggled. "But you have to admit, that was funny."
He smiled begrudgingly, and the stewardess appeared beside us to clear away the remnants of our meals.
"All joking aside though, he was seriously into you from the start," Louis continued once our desserts were finished and coffee had been served. "We all ribbed him endlessly for it, for weeks."
"We?"
"Yeah - me, Zayn, Payno, Nialler... it was relentless. I don't know how he put up with it."
"He did tell me if you'd told him to have chill one more time he would have punched you," I recalled.
"No chill," Louis grinned. "That was the tag line of the tour. Poor Harry." We cackled together for a moment, before Louis added, "He deserved every second of it, though. He had your notifications on from the moment he followed you on Twitter."
"Did he?" I gaped.
"Pretty much. I remember when he called you to tell you about the story about his hook up in Japan, and you hung up on him!" Louis guffawed gleefully. "I don't think any girl has kept him on his toes the way you did - and probably still do. It was so entertaining to watch."
"You enjoy Harry's anguish far too much," I teased as the cabin lights dimmed, and across the aisle Lottie pulled her window blind down and reclined her seat.
"I've never seen him so helpless," he admitted, with a yawn. "I wasn't very patient with him, but I did give him several sharp pushes in your direction to help things along at the start. If it had been left up to him he would probably still be staring at his phone now, wondering whether to text you."
"I guess I owe you one," I smiled, and he gave me a wicked look.
"You could give me one now, if you want."
"Oh my God!" I hissed as he pursed his lips together, his eyes twinkling.
"Chill," he said breezily. "I'm only joking. It's just fun to watch you get all flustered. I have to get my kicks somehow, especially as I've been relegated to second favourite again since you got back with Harold."
"Do you wind Danielle up like this?" I demanded, as he unclipped his seatbelt and stood up in the aisle, reaching into the overhead lockers and pulling out two blankets and a couple of pillows.
"Course I do," he answered, as though this should be obvious. "She's almost as sassy as you."
"Well, I daresay you need it," I huffed, and he threw a pillow in my face. "What's this for?"
"They're switching the lights out," he said slowly, like he was speaking to a child. "I'm presuming you'll want to sleep at some point on this flight?"
"Oh, um, I hadn't thought about it," I muttered awkwardly, as he sat back down in his seat and pressed a button to recline it into a horizontal position.
"I'm not going to sleep yet," he said. "But I'm going to lie down. I'm tired. You can join me, you know. I don't bite. Unless you're into that sort of thing..."
He eyed me mischievously and I ignored this comment as I moved my seat all the way back, shoved the pillow under my head and took the blanket he held out to me.
"Keep your hands to yourself," I warned him, but all he did was smirk.
"As long as you do. Oh my God, I'm joking!" he insisted as I opened my mouth to tell him off again. "Fuck's sake. Harold's lack of chill is contagious."
"Your mouth is going to get you into trouble one day," I remarked, as he shifted onto his side on his seat-turned-bed to face me.
"My mouth's well-known for a lot of things," he winked.
"I don't want to know," I groaned, feeling my cheeks burn furiously at his words.
"Yeah you fucking do," he challenged, lowering his voice to match his tone. "You're imagining it now."
I reached across and punched his arm hard as the interior lights dimmed further to a faint glow, casting an orange hue over Louis's face as he surveyed me. I closed my eyes purposefully, to ignore him.
He chuckled softly, and flicked my arm in return. "Sorry, love. I am only joking, you know. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'll shut up now. Sorry if I crossed a line."
"Oh you didn't," I said before I could stop myself, as my inner sass took over. "I was closing my eyes to imagine it better."
There was a moment of silence, and I grinned before opening my eyes again, to see Louis staring at me silently, clearly searching for a comeback to top my last comment.
"I do love it when you're lost for words," I added, when he failed to respond.
"You're the only one who's ever rendered me speechless," he admitted eventually, pulling his own blanket up to his shoulders and resting his head on the crook of his arm as he looked at me. "You're one of a kind, you, Jessie."
"It takes one to know one," I conceded, and he smiled softly.
"Seriously, though. I'm really glad you and Harry sorted things out eventually. I don't mean to speak out of turn -" (I raised my eyebrows at him sceptically and he gave a reluctant incline of his head in acknowledgement) "- but I was rooting for you all along. You're so good for him, and he's a fucking pain in the arse without you. I'm happy you forgave each other and moved on."
The memory of my screaming match with Harry on the phone over my impulsive kiss with Louis flooded my mind, and I felt a fresh flush of embarrassment. Louis and I had never discussed that kiss since, and suddenly it weighed upon me, like an elephant in the room.
"I'm really sorry, for that night at Libertine," I began awkwardly, my face flaming yet again as I stared at the stitching on the leather seat in front of my eyes. "I never properly apologised for, um..."
"Trying to jump my bones?"
"I didn't try to jump your bones!" I protested indignantly, looking up into his face, and he laughed softly.
"Again, just teasing." He gave another yawn, his eyes now half closed.
"Well, anyway, I'm sorry I put you in that position," I gabbled, eager to get this apology over with, and regretting even bringing it up. "Every time I think about it I want the ground to open up and swallow me."
"Think about it a lot, do you?"
He was grinning infuriatingly again, and I growled in frustration. "Stop taking the piss!" I moaned. "Just accept the apology and let's move on!"
"I'm just making conversation," he shrugged sleepily. "You're the one who keeps having these wild fantasies about me - hey!"
I had poked his cheek playfully, and he made a grab for my hand with his.
"Wild fantasties are the nearest you'll ever get," I taunted.
"Unless we meet in our dreams," he smirked, suggestively.
He went to swat my hand away from his face, but instead closed his fingers around mine and squeezed gently.
"You're a diamond," he said huskily. "And don't you ever let Harry forget it."
"I won't," I smiled softly, squeezing his hand back. "And you're pretty awesome, too. Danielle's a lucky girl."
"That she is," he nodded, smiling, his eyes fully closed now.
I pulled my hand away and tucked it underneath the blanket covering me and closed my eyes, focussing on the gentle whirr of the planes engines in the black night as silence descended in the cabin for several minutes.
"We both know you still would, though," came Louis' voice through the darkness.
"Yeah, well... you still would too," I replied.
I didn't need to open my eyes to know his grin matched my own, and that one single word hung in the air unspoken between us:
True.
---***---
This chapter ended up a little longer than planned because I just LOVE writing real-life Louis. I think he might be my favourite character in this story, which led me to wonder... who is your favourite character, and why?
If you want to read the scenes Louis is referring to between him and Harry, and find out what went through Harry's head in the early days and beyond, check out Trace of Innocence (Book 3) :) xx
Don't forget to vote if you liked the chapter 🌟