Chapter Six  

"I'm not sure," Harry replied. "Make 'em. Use the elastic for the luggage tags or a paper clip. Wait. Why are we having this conversation?"  

"Twelve hours of Christmas," was Zayn's answer.  

"Well that information is all kinds of useless," Harry replied.  

"Never mind," Zayn said. "How's it going?"  

Harry mumbled something equally cryptic to Zayn about Orlando being synonymous with jerk and hung up the phone, tucking it back into his pocket.  

Realistically, poor Orlando didn't stand a chance of ever being in Harry's good graces. He'd forfeited all those years ago when he left Jessica in tears. Now, once they were formally introduced, Harry liked him even less and spent most of the night fighting the bile that surfaced in his throat when he heard Orlando speak.  

He stood with Mr. Anderson, marveling at how astoundingly tacky his Christmas jumper was. It was fashioned of red wool and featured a large, triangular tree in the center. Worst part about the entire thing was that it had lights that flashed. Harry's head hurt trying to focus on his hosts face as he went on telling the other party guests about Harry's recent success.  

At any other time, Harry was desperate to remain humble, but tonight he didn't mind Jessica's father bragging. The more he carried on, the more Orlando sulked which gave him a strange feeling of satisfaction.  

He'd freely admit it to anyone at that point. He was jealous. He sipped his drink, blocked out Mr. Anderson's voice and his blinking lights and set his eyes on Jessica. There she stood, in the middle of the room in her too tight jeans. Her smile was contagious and he observed as she spoke to people, they too, would begin to smile.  

"What do you say, boy?" An older man with a curled mustache nudged Harry in the arm, shaking him from his reverie.  

"Huh?"  

"Don't be embarrassed," Mr. Anderson urged. "Go ahead Harry, show them what you've got."  

He laughed nervously, unsure of what he was supposed to show and to whom he was supposed to show it to. "Ah," he tried to play it cool and wave a hand dismissively. "I'm alright." He figured the statement was general enough to brush off the man.  

"Maybe he gets stage fright," Orlando offered.  

Harry narrowed his eyes in disgust, "You think I get stage fright?"  

Orlando nodded.  

"Are you serious?" It had to be some kind of joke on Orlando's part.  

"It's okay Harry," Jessica chimed in. Her hand brushed on his shoulder and his skin vibrated underneath her touch. "I'm not sure Orlando knows how big you guys are."  

Orlando must not have owned a TV or a radio. Harry nodded and took her hand in his, removing it from his shoulder. He held on for a count of twenty, mostly to tick Orlando off and laughed before turning his attention on the mustached man. Harry considered Orlando's words a challenge. "You want me to sing?"  

"Yes, my boy," the man said. "Sing us a song."  

Harry looked at Jessica. "Want to play?"  

She looked pensive at first but recovered swiftly. "Sure," she said. "I'd love to."  

With that, she seated herself at the piano and while she played, Harry sang. It didn't take long before other guests -Orlando not included--joined and made Harry's job of keeping everyone on key a difficult task. Jessica played the piano beautifully and with grace, just like she did everything else. It began to feel very much like the holiday he'd been expecting and he longed to share their special kiss.  

After a rather jumbled, terribly synchronized version of jingle bells featuring at least twenty off pitch voices, Harry cleared his throat and asked for a glass of water.  

"Jessica," Mrs. Anderson said. "Go to the cellar and fetch some more bags of ice, will you?"  

"Sure." She looked at Orlando who seemed bored. Harry got the impression that he'd rather be chewing on crushed glass than spending any time with Jessica's family and friends. "I'll be right back," she told him.  

Orlando shrugged and mumbled something into the neck of the bottle in his hand while he took another sip of his drink.  

Jessica left, essentially abandoning Harry with Orlando. He'd have to remember to thank her for the consideration later. They stood side by side carefully observing her descent into the cellar. Her hips swung as she moved and Orlando sucked in a breath. "Man, those jeans. What I wouldn't do to get my hands on..."  

Harry had a mental image of cracking Orlando upside the head with his own bottle. Instead he simply tried to collect himself prior to responding. "Do yourself a favor mate," Harry advised. "Don't finish that thought."  

Orlando wasn't even remotely threatened. "Oh, yeah? What are you going to do, buddy?"  

Harry turned, well aware that he had at least four inches of height on Jessica's new boyfriend. He was determined to use it to his advantage. "Right. Let's get one thing sorted straight away. I'm not your buddy," he spoke the last word clearly, so there was no mistaking his message. "I won't ever be your buddy and if I hear you speaking about her like she's an object, I won't be so incredibly warm and welcoming to you."  

Something about his face must've told Orlando to leave well enough alone because all he managed was, "you know for a famous guy, you're a drag."  

"Excuse me." Harry slipped out of the room to follow behind Jessica. Heat surged through his body, either a result of the confrontation with Orlando or the thought of sharing just a single sacred moment with her. She hadn't bothered to turn on the lights so it was dark but he could make out the phenomenal silhouette of her curves. He heard some clattering and banging as she looked for the ice which evidently eluded her and when she stood, he made sure his body was directly behind her.  

She let out a startled gasp.  

"Shh," he said. "It's just me."  

"For God sakes Harry, why aren't you upstairs?"  

"Because I want to be down here with you." The answer seemed perfectly simple and was nothing but the truth.  

Jessica didn't turn her body but he felt her tremble in front of him. "Why?" 

"Tell me you don't think about me," he said. "Tell me you're in love with him."  

"Harry," she said. "What are you talking about?"  

"Tell me," he said. "Tell me you are in love with him and I'll leave quietly."  

Her voice dropped and even in the dark, she set the bag of ice down. "I-I can't," she said. "I can't tell you that."  

Harry put his mouth next to her ear and used all of his resolve not to spin her around and kiss her then and there. "Because it wouldn't be true. Not a day has passed since the first time I kissed you right here, in this room, when I don't think about you or wish you were with me. Tell me you don't feel the same way and I'll leave. I'll leave you to be with some other guy with a horrible name like Orlando who doesn't deserve to know you. But tell me you do and I'm going to kiss you. And I'll never be your first kiss again but maybe I can be your last one." Jessica slowly turned to face him and as she did, Harry took her face in his hands just like he always did. "Let me be your last kiss."  

Her body moved closer to his and she tilted her chin upward, giving him the access he was after. "Do you remember when you were just a strange boy who came to my mother's holiday party?" 

"I remember," he said. "I promised you I'd never forget."  

"You swore you'd come back here for eternity and I said that was a really long time and then you kissed me."  

"I did," Harry whispered. "And I'm about to do it again." Her breathing hitched and Harry could tell she was considering his proposition. He snaked an arm around her lower back. "I can promise you," he whispered. "I'm an exceptional kisser; you won't regret it." 

"No," Jessica said. "I don't think I will."  

"Come to London with me," Harry said. "And I'll make sure you regret nothing, for eternity."  

Jessica rewarded him with a smile. "That's a really long time."  

"Yeah," he agreed. "But I make good on my promises."