"Three and a half?!" I echoed, wiping the tears off my cheeks. "You've written three and a half songs about me?"

"Well, they're just the ones for our album, yeah," he said. "I've been writing a lot of stuff over the summer. Some for One Direction, some for potential solo stuff. You've been a pretty heavy influence."

"Oh my God, Harry," I breathed. How could I even begin to process this? My entire body was shaking.

"I couldn't get you out of my head, so it makes sense you're in my songs," he said in a rush.

"Can I hear the others?" I asked, timidly.

He shrugged awkwardly. "If you want."

"Of course I do. I want to hear everything you write," I enthused. "Will I need to pull over again though? I am best waiting here while I listen to them?"

He smiled. "The others aren't as sad as If I Could Fly. I think you'll be OK."

"What are they called?" I asked as I dried the last of my tears on my sleeve.

"Um, Olivia, and Walking In The Wind."

"Olivia?" I repeated.

"Yeah, It started off as 'Jessica', but, uh, it didn't exactly fit. You'll understand when you hear it. John - he's one of our songwriters -"

"I know who John Ryan is."

"Course you do," he grinned, with a roll of his eyes. "Well, he didn't think the name 'Jessica' worked, and we all agreed. Plus, you and I weren't together at the time - it was when you thought I'd been cheating on you with Taylor. We wrote it literally the day before I flew back home for the Big Weekend. I wasn't sure how you'd react if there was potentially a song on the album called 'Jessica', especially as you'd been struggling with the world knowing our business. It would have been as good as confirming our relationship."

"Wow," I laughed shakily, lost for words.

"I still think 'Jessica' in my head when I sing it, though," he added. He fiddled with his phone and I started the car engine and drove slowly through the car park towards the slip road and back onto the motorway as Olivia began.

It was upbeat and cheerful, and when the chorus played Harry sang softly beside me, "I live for you, I long for you, oh Jessica... I've been idolising the light in your eyes, oh Jessica..."

I grinned at him and he grinned back, and apart from changing every 'Olivia' to 'Oh Jessica' he remained silent.

"I like it," I said, when it had finished. "Was that the half-song you wrote, or the whole song?"

"The whole song," he replied. "Walking In The Wind is about missing someone, but a lot of it was written by Julian. And John and Jamie co-wrote it, too." He looked at me as though waiting for me to confirm I knew who he was talking about.

I did.

I nodded.

"I contributed a bit," he continued, "and some of it related to the way I missed you but I still had hope for us. I'd been struggling for a while on how to end the chorus, and then when we were saying goodbye in Cardiff, after we'd walked along the river and talked some stuff through, it came to me."

"What did?" I asked.

"The line I'd been searching for. You'll see..." He tapped on his phone and a new song began to play.

"Beautiful wording," I remarked, as I heard if you're lost just look for me, you'll find me in the region of the summer stars.

"Julian's grandmother wrote that in a poem," Harry said, thoughtfully.

"Seriously?" I said, turning to look at him, and he nodded. "It is very poetic," I remarked, and then inwardly rolled my eyes at my lame attempt to sound like I knew what I was talking about.

"Your opinion matters to me the most," he said softly, reaching across the car and slipping his hand into mine again, as if he'd read my mind. I smiled gratefully at him as the track continued, and then Harry said, "this is the part I mean."

Goodbyes are bittersweet, but it's not the end; I'll see your face again...

"It came to me as we were saying goodbye," he explained. "I was just struck by this overwhelming feeling that it wasn't the end for us, and I would see your face again. I vowed to myself at that moment to keep fighting for you, for us, until I fixed everything I had broken. And the lyrics fit with the tone and theme of the song; of losing a loved one, in any literal or figurative way."

He hesitated for a second before continuing.

"The title, Walking In The Wind, relates to the moment I realised I was in love with you. It was kind of inspired by the photo of you on my lock screen; that day we went for a walk along the River Dane. The wind blew your hair across your eyes; we were literally walking in the wind. So if you ever came looking for me and wanted me back, that's where you'd find me. Walking in the wind. Lost in my memory of you. Of us."

He cleared his throat nervously.

"You said it wouldn't make me cry!" I wailed as hot, fresh tears brimmed in my eyes again.

"I didn't plan on telling you about the title," he said uncomfortably.

"I'm glad you did," I choked. "I just wish I'd stayed parked up so I could kiss you. It's beautiful. The lyrics, the title, everything. You're incredibly talented. Your songs are amazing."

My heart was so full of love and happiness, I felt sure it would burst. Just when I'd thought this wonderful, amazing and humble person sitting beside me couldn't be any more perfect, he'd pulled this out of the bag.

"Thanks," he said shyly, his cheeks pulling into a smile.

"So... do I get to hear the rest of the album?" I asked, batting my eyelashes at him and giving him an exaggerated cheesy smile once my tears had subsided again.

He considered this for a moment. "Alright. If it would make you happy."

"It really really would," I beamed. "I don't think I can get any happier right now, but I'm willing to give it a shot. Have Louis and Liam co-written anything together?" I asked casually.

"Maybe," Harry replied, coyly. "Why don't we see if you can tell?"

"Challenge accepted, Styles," I nodded. "Bring it on."

~~~~~

Although the following week was supposed to be a week off for Harry (with the exception of the Music Industry Trusts Awards on Monday night) he was in demand as always. I felt he needed a decent rest to recharge his batteries before the band headed over to America, so I saw him briefly on Tuesday evening, but was firmly looking forward to heading back up to his mum's on Friday after work.

I caught up with Callie on Wednesday evening, and filled her in on the full details from the previous weekend: the concert, meeting the family, getting back together and the songs on the new album.

"Bet the make-up sex was fuckıng brilliant," she observed, and cackled delightedly when I gave a coy smile.

Things had been ticking over between her and James, but she was adamant she didn't want to talk about it, and was equally adamant her hunch that he was cheating on her would be proved right before long.

I took my weekend bag to work with me on Friday morning and at five o'clock on the dot Harry was waiting outside the office for me. I slid into the passenger seat and chucked my holdall between the two front seats and into the back.

"Hi," he smiled, as I leaned across the centre console and kissed him passionately on the lips. "Hi," he repeated, huskily this time, and with emphasis.

"Hi Squidge," I said softly, stroking his cheek, before buckling my seatbelt and sitting back in my seat. "Nice coat."

He was wearing a tan sheepskin jacket with the collar pulled up, black skinnies, and his hair tied back. As always, he looked incredible.

"Thanks," he smiled. "Good day at work?" He signalled right and pulled out slowly into the flow of traffic.

"Hmm, my mind was elsewhere," I teased.

"Oh really? Anywhere nice?" he asked.

"Well, I couldn't stop thinking about spending the weekend with my boyfriend," I sighed, theatrically. "He occupied my thoughts for most of the day."

"I can guarantee you were in his thoughts all day too," he grinned, and my stomach fluttered.

"Really?" I asked.

"Of course," he smiled, glancing at me. "I'm always thinking about you."

"Don't let my boyfriend hear you say that," I said seriously. "He might come and beat you up."

Harry glanced at me again, with one eyebrow raised in scepticism.

"OK, maybe not," I laughed, and he frowned.

"You didn't have to agree so easily," he pouted.

"If you can agree easily that I am a loser, I can agree that you're, uh, less than macho," I replied tactfully.

He pulled an expression of distaste followed by indignance, and finally settled on concession. "Fine," he sighed.

"Macho doesn't appeal to me, anyway," I tried to appease him. "I love you exactly how you are."

We stopped for Petrol on the way out of London, and as soon as Harry got back into the car and shut the door he started the engine and immediately began to pull out.

"What's the rush?" I asked.

"Someone's just been taking photos of me as I went to pay," he muttered.

"Who?" I asked. "Paps or fans?"

"I think a pap, but it was fairly low-key," he said, turning out of the petrol station and off in the direction of the motorway. "I didn't recognise him."

"Do you usually?"

"Most of the time," he replied, his eyes fixed on the road. "You get to know the same faces."

"Do you think they saw me?" I asked.

"I don't know," he admitted, glancing apologetically at me.

I shrugged. "It's bound to happen at some stage," I reasoned. "So I'm in your car. So what?"

"Hmmm," he murmured, thoughtfully.

We stopped again at Corley services on the M6, about half way to Holmes Chapel, and thankfully the place was fairly quiet. When I came out of the toilets Harry was hovering outside Subway staring up at the menu board.

"I really fancy a foot long," he mused.

"Me too," I murmured meaningfully, and although his eyes didn't leave the board his mouth twitched into a smirk.

"Are you flirting with me, Miss Bradshaw?"

"Whatever gave you that idea, Mr Styles?" I asked innocently, and then glanced quickly around me in case anyone had overheard me saying his name.

"I've got a foot long over here for you," he teased, leaning slightly closer to me and lowering his voice.

"I've got that earmarked for dessert," I replied, and he turned to grin at me.

"It really will be foot long if you carry on talking like that," he whispered.

"I don't know what you're referring to, but I am talking about a sandwich," I declared loftily.

"Yeah, yeah, pull the other one," he fired back. "Please," he whispered in my ear, his lips brushing my skin and sending goosebumps across my neck.

"What's with the innuendos?" I whispered, leaning into him again so our bodies touched.

"You started it," he reminded me. "With the foot long."

"Don't start what you can't finish," we said at the same time, and then both chuckled.

"Come on," I said, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the counter. "Let's get you your foot long."

We ordered food and drinks, and I turned to head back out to the car but Harry called, "Jess? Let's eat here."

I followed him nervously over to a table in the corner and sat down opposite him.

"What if we're seen?" I asked, hesitantly.

"There's not many people around," he said quietly. "And I've just been pictured in London. But if you don't want to risk it, it's cool."

"No, it's fine," I said, unwrapping my sandwich and taking a bite.

"I can't wait for us to be able to go out in public and not care who's watching," he said, resting his knee against mine under the table as he took out his sub. "I want to be able to put my arm around you, and hold your hand, and kiss you, without constantly looking over my shoulder."

"I know, same," I sighed. "Maybe we could think about it in the new year?"

He glanced up at me.

"Really?"

"I mean, part of me just wants to throw caution to the wind and go public now," I admitted. "But I suppose it's best to wait, like we said."

"Now?" he said, with his mouth full. "Like, right now?"

My heart began to pound.

"Well, maybe when you've finished your mouthful," I joked nervously and he swallowed quickly, his eyes watering. "Attractive," I teased.

"OK, so kiss me," he said, his voice slightly higher than usual.

My palms were sweating now.

"Here?" I whispered.

"Here," he whispered back, his eyes locked on mine.

I hesitated for only a split second, before I stood half-up and leaned across the table to kiss him softly on the lips. It was only a quick peck, but my hands were trembling as I sat back down in my seat and picked up my sub and took a bite, as though what I had just done was the most normal thing in the world.

Harry said nothing but surveyed me, his eyes slightly wide. I tried not to look at him but lasted all of three seconds before I lifted my gaze to meet his again. He was staring at me with a blazing look of determination and before I could speak he pushed his chair back, placed both hands on the table between us and kissed me back firmly, as though replying to my kiss with a bolder one. Then he sat back down again and breathed out.

"I fucķing love you, Jessica Bradshaw," he murmured.

My insides were squirming and I looked at him, and then glanced surreptitiously around the almost-empty restaurant to check if anyone had noticed us.

Nobody had.

I took another bite of my dinner while I tried to calm my nerves, and then grinned at Harry.

"Well, there was one small flaw in the brilliant plan," I remarked, feeling ridiculously giddy. "There's nobody even here."

He laughed, a little too hysterically, letting me know he was just as skittish as I was. "Probably just as well. Karen would have kittens if this got out before she'd had chance to prepare."

"Just for the record, I fuckįng love you too, Harry Styles," I said, dropping my voice to a whisper again. (One step at a time, OK?)

"I know you do," he said softly; earnestly. "I know."

"And I can't wait for the day we do this properly, in front of a load of paps, or fans, or both. I can't wait for the world to know we're official," I declared.

He reached across the table and laced his fingers into mine, before bringing my hand up to his face and kissing it.

"It means the world to me that you want that too," he said. "I know the baggage that comes with being in a relationship with me, and it makes me so happy that despite being on the receiving end of said baggage, you're here now."

"Of course I am. My favourite place in the whole world is -"

"In the arms of the person you love," he finished, and I looked at him surprise.

"I remember everything," he smiled. "Especially stuff like that. I'm so happy that person turned out to be me."

"Like anyone else would ever have stood a chance once I'd met you," I sighed. "No one could ever compare."

"There's a song in there somewhere," he winked.

"One of my favourites," I grinned back. "I can't believe we're having a soppy conversation like this at Corley services, of all places."

"It's called being spontaneous," he smirked. "Something I can never usually be. Maybe that's why it's so exciting for me."

"It's exciting for me, too," I assured him. "Just being around you is exciting."

He beamed at me and we finished our subs, threw the wrappers in the bin and made our way out to the car, failing to notice a pair of teenage girls watching us and whispering excitedly, as we left the building hand in hand.

****----****

If you want to know the backstory of the songs on MITAM that Harry wrote about Jess, or read the blazing row between Harry and Louis over the Briana/Freddie bombshell, or understand the comment about Jess's favourite place being in the arms of the person she loves, or even just see into Harry's head in general to find out why he's so jealous of Louis... check out Trace of Innocence (Book 3). It's all explained :)

I'm intrigued to know - how did you find this story? What made you read it? Leave me a comment and let me know xx