Chapter One

One could adjust an airplane seat a thousand different ways and it wouldn't make any difference to the general comfort level. Harry shifted in his chair like there were ants in his pants, trying to find a semi comfortable position for the long flight home. After what felt like forever, he achieved a semi tolerable one and although it wasn't pleasant, it would have to do.  

A full year had passed since he saw Jessica but he thought of her often; more than often, if he were being honest with himself. Did she look different this year? Was her hair still long? Had she colored it? Was she still trying to lose the last five pounds Harry could never convince her she desperately needed to hang on to? Would she smile when she saw him?  

Gazing out the window, he allowed his heavy eyes to close and his thoughts to drift to the first time they'd met.

                                                                                                 *** 

Holmes Chapel, Cheshire, England - 2008

"Harry Styles! You've got until the count of three." 

Her tone was unmistakable. Mum was done messing around, she'd called him five or so times but up until now, he'd been busy ignoring her. He tugged his t-shirt over his head and peered around the corner cautiously. "Yeah?" 

She stood in the kitchen, pies in hand. "Here," she thrust the pastries toward him. "Take these next door so I can finish getting ready." 

He didn't want to go to the next door-he didn't really know them but he did know better than to argue with his mother, so, resigned, he held his hands out in expectation. She tightened her grip on the pies and narrowed her gaze on him. "You aren't wearing that are you? You look a mess."  

What? His t-shirt and denim was a perfectly acceptable option. "I guess not," he said.  

"Good boy. Wear something proper." 

He was wearing something proper! He rolled his eyes and headed back to his bedroom. To meet her demands, he selected a crisp white button up and a pair of trousers. By the time he returned seeking her stamp of approval, she'd tidied up and was slipping her apron over her head.  

He motioned to his new choice of wardrobe. "Better?"  

"Much." She nodded to her pies. "Now take them. They need to go into the cellar and stay cold or they'll spoil. Carroll said the door would be unlocked. Careful not to startle anyone." 

"It's Christmas," Harry muttered, scooping a pie in each hand, "not Halloween." 

Twisting a doorknob and hanging on to two warm pies was a challenge in itself and he swore by the time he stumbled through the door that there was going to be a casualty and he'd have blood-the cherry pie filling kind-- on his hands. 

"Ever heard of knocking?" a quiet voice asked. As he stepped further inside, his gaze settled on a slight girl with flaxen hair. She stood with one hand on her hip and her head tilted to the left. She clearly hadn't been expecting anyone because her blue eyes were bloodshot and she swiped at them frantically with a sleeve covered fist. 

"I've heard of knocking. I just usually reserve it for entering through a front door. Not a basement. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you," Harry said holding the pies up. "My Mum made pies for the party. Following orders to put them in the cellar." 

She nodded toward a table situated left of the door. "You can put them there with the rest." 

"Wow," he said, setting them down. "There are a ton of pies."  

"Yours make precisely fourteen."  

"My mother's will be the best."  

"That's cheeky," she said.  

"Maybe so," Harry replied. "But I promise you it's true." He extended his hand and stepped forward. "I don't think we've met before, I'm Harry."  

"Jessica," she said, sniffling. "But everyone calls me Jess."  

"How'd you get to be in Carroll Anderson's cellar, Jess?" he asked.  

"Carroll's my mom," she said.  

Harry shook his head. There was no way this girl lived here. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson moved in six or so months ago. The fact that they had a daughter around his age wouldn't have escaped his notice. "I would have remembered you," he said. "Want to try again?"  

"No," she said. "As a matter of fact, I don't. I go to boarding school. That's why you haven't seen me before."  

It seemed like a legitimate excuse. It was also one he couldn't argue with so he asked the next, most logical thing. "Are you alright there?"  

Jessica nodded.  

"Then why are you crying?"  

Her shoulders rose and fell in a quick shrug. "No reason."  

"No reason seems like a silly reason to cry. You can tell me," he coaxed. He nodded to the dessert table. "I've cherry pie. The solution to any problem." 

"Not this problem." 

"Go on," he urged. "Let's give it a go. You never know."  

"It's about a boy," she said.  

Figures. Wasn't it always about a boy? "What boy?"  

"Just a boy. Orlando."  

Harry looked up. The distinct leaves and berries of holly hung from the ceiling. "Judging from the tears in your eyes and the mistletoe you're standing underneath, I reckon you wanted to kiss him, this Orlando?"  

She nodded.  

"What kind of name is Orlando, anyway? Did he want to kiss you back?"  

"Obviously not enough," she said, miserably. "He rang earlier and told me he couldn't come."  

"Orlando is a twit," Harry decided.  

"You think so?"  

"If he weren't, the bloke would be standing precisely where I am."  

She nodded and the corners of her mouth twisted skyward allowing a ghost of a smile to flutter there. "I don't even like him," she muttered.  

"Fair enough," he said. "So the kiss which he is missing out on this moment is his loss, yeah?"  

"I guess."  

She sulked and Harry gave her a gentle poke in the arm. "Ah c'mon love. It's only just a kiss."  

"Not just a kiss," she said. "It was supposed to be my first and he forgot. All the girls at school have snogged. I haven't yet. I'm fourteen in two weeks. It's mortifying." She looked down at her feet, shuffling one across the floor with her hands clasped behind her back. 

"I have an idea," he said.  

Her eyebrows knit together as if the prospect of him having an idea was ludicrous.  

"Don't look so gobsmacked. I have ideas often. This may be one of my best."  

Jessica folded her arms across her chest. "Alright then, let's hear it."  

"Let me be your first kiss." Yep. Definitely one of his best ideas.  

"I don't know you," she said. "You're just a strange boy who has come to my mother's holiday party." 

"You're a beautiful girl who deserves to share your first kiss with a boy who'll appreciate you. One who'll remember you," he said. He held his hand up, palm forward. "I swear I shall always remember you. From this moment and every year during the holidays, for the rest of my life, if you let me kiss you, I'll never forget. In fact, I will come back here to this very spot and kiss you again each Christmas Eve for the rest of eternity." 

"That's a very long time," she said. 

The flush in her cheeks told him she was considering his proposition. He snaked an arm around her lower back and dared to tug her closer. "I can promise you," he whispered. "I'm an exceptional kisser; you won't regret it." 

"Until you or I fall in love with someone. What then, of our tradition?" 

"If you or I fall in love, all bets are off. No kisses shall be delivered or returned."  

She looked pensive as she considered his words but managed a nod and a warning. "I'm a mess." 

The thought of kissing her had rooted itself in his mind and spread to every corner of his brain. The temptation was consuming and he couldn't wait a second more. Cupping his hands on the side of her face, he flashed his best smile. "You say mess. I say a beautiful disaster."  

He put his mouth on hers and the kiss was sweeter than he could have anticipated. Her lips were soft and smooth and tasted faintly of strawberry. She sank into his arms and when he pulled away, a spark danced behind her eyes. "Harry?" 

"Yes, love?"  

"That was everything I dreamed my first kiss might be like."  

Harry smiled. "It was something, wasn't it?"  

"Harry?"  

"Yes, love?"  

"I can't wait until next year."  

Every year after that, they'd returned to the cellar to share their kiss. It was better than any gift he'd open and his favorite part of Christmas.

                                                                                           ***

Present Day

"Sir." 

Harry stirred and his eyes fluttered open to settle on a flight attendant who beamed with such intensity, she should have arrived with a complimentary pair of sunglasses. He blinked like his eyelids could function as a dimmer switch. "Yeah?" his voice sounded groggy. 

"Sorry to disturb you Sir, but the Captain has turned on the seat-belt sign. I have to ask you to place your chair in an upright position and buckle up. For your own safety, of course." 

Harry pushed the button which set his chair right and buckled his seat-belt. "Of course," he echoed.  

"Thank you," she grinned again and Harry was positive she could win a role in any toothpaste commercial, maybe even power solar panels with her smile.  

"No problem sunshine."  

His mum waited for him on the other side of the arrivals gate and the warmth that radiated throughout his body told him he was home. He held out his arms, not bothering to hide the smile that stretched across his face, although he was painfully aware that he might mirror the flight attendant. "Mum!" 

She wrapped her arms around him. "Darling. I've missed you." 

He gave her a squeeze and planted a kiss on the top of her head. "Missed you too, Mum."  

"Hope you're not too tired," she said. "I'm not the only one who has missed you. The Anderson's are anxious to see you. They pushed the party a few hours ahead to accommodate your flight." 

They were anxious? How about him? He could not stop thinking about Jess or seeing her again. His nerves were shot. "I slept on the plane." 

Harry loved being on tour. There was no doubt regarding the blessings that had rained down upon him in the last year or two, but there was a certain charm about home that he could never deny.  

After settling his belongings into his old room, Harry changed into his favorite Ramone's t-shirt and pair of jeans before heading next door. 

Mr. Anderson stood in the doorway, wearing a dreadful Christmas jumper. When he saw Harry, he delivered a solid slap on his back. "Harry! Good to see you, chap."  

"Good to be home," Harry said.  

"Jessica is upstairs. You know the way." 

He tiptoed up the stairs stopping when he heard what sounded like a wrestling match. Jessica's distinctive voice came from behind the door. "Close! For the love of God, close! Please!"  

Harry peered through the crack left between the door frame and the door. Jess lay on her back, sprawled on the bed, her arms shaking with the effort she was exerting in attempt to button her jeans.  

He shouldered the door open, not bothering to knock. "Tenacious as always aren't you, sweetheart?"  

She bolted upright. Her jeans were still undone but they were so bloody tight, they weren't going anywhere. "Harry!" she exclaimed. She flew toward him, arms extended and before he could process anything, her body slammed into his.  

He willingly caught her, wrapping her up in his arms. Her hair smelled like vanilla and as he breathed her in, he whispered. "Hello." 

"I can't believe you're here."  

His eyes widened and he gave her a wink. "Believe it. And put your clothes on, will you?"  

"It's your mother's pie," Jess said. "She's got more time now that you're not here being a royal pain in the ass so she bakes. A lot. And brings it here. I'll never lose those five pounds," she complained. 

He smiled, knowing full well Jess didn't need to lose a pound. She was perfect the way she was. "Or," he said, "You could accept the fact that you have a rocking body and simply buy jeans that fit." 

Jessica placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head. "They do fit, thank you very much." 

He gave a playful tug at the button. "How's that working out for you?" 

"Now is not the time to joke," she said. "It's nearing crisis mode."  

He held out his arm and barreled forward, grabbing her shoulder and sending them both to the bed. "The crisis is averted. I am here." 

"Harry," she said. "I'm serious."  

He began to tickle her, grabbing at her sides, poking her ribs and she was half laughing, half squealing, making a great deal of noise for someone relatively small. "Stop! Harry! Stop!" 

"No," he said. "Not until you admit your pants don't fit!" 

"They fit!"  

"Wrong answer." He grabbed her side harder. "Try again."  

"They fit. You're blind!"  

"You're in denial!" His fingers went to work as he grabbed at the tops of her knees and squeezed.  

Her breath was fast and erratic between the screaming and the giggles. Any self control she had took a hike. "Stop! Oh my God! Harry, please! Stop! You're so childish. They don't fit okay? I need to find something to wear! Orlando is coming over. Stop fooling around."  

Wait. What? Who? 

Harry froze. "What?" 

She placed her palms on either side of his chest and pushed him away. "I was going to tell you but I didn't get round to it, obviously. Seeing as how you attacked me the moment you walked in the door."  

She sat up and smoothed her hair whilst Harry tried to get his brain to vacate the merry-go-round she so kindly set it on. He was going to puke. "What are you talking about?"  

Jessica stood and miraculously secured the stubborn button on her jeans, pausing as she selected her words. "Orlando is my boyfriend," she declared. "I think you'll like him." 

Doubtful. Beyond doubtful. Assuredly not. Harry rubbed at his eyes as if his disbelief were nothing more than a collection of hallucinations that could be brushed away. He rose from his spot on the bed, for the first time realizing how much he'd grown in the last year. He didn't remember being so much taller than her. "Orlando," he said. "As in the same Orlando who had better things to do than kiss you? That's bullocks."  

"Harry, we were young. That was years ago. He's changed."  

He pursed his lips together and shoved his hands in his pockets unsure of what to say.  

Jessica smiled. "I've been waiting a long time for you to meet him, Harry. Don't look so gloomy."  

He wanted to beg her to stop. To tell her that she was making a terrible mistake. To plead with her to choose him, to kiss him, to be with him. Instead, he followed her out the door in stunned silence.  

Jessica skipped down the stairs, oblivious to the fact that he was absolutely gutted following her declaration. He wouldn't be kissing her this year, and he didn't think it could get much worse than that.  

He grabbed the top of her arm gently. "Listen," he said. "I've got to make a phone call. I'll be right there. Wait for me?"  

"Yeah," Jess said. "Of course."  

Harry nodded and smiled politely as he made his way out the front door to the porch and dialed Louis.  

"Hello?"  

Harry didn't say hi back, instead blurting out, "I've got a problem, mate."  

"Go on then," Louis replied. "Let's hear it."  

"I've told you about Jessica," Harry said.  

"Yup. The mistletoe girl."  

"Yeah, her."  

"Okay..."  

"She's got a boyfriend. Named Orlando."