I spent the following week daydreaming and brainstorming ideas for a private celebration for the anniversary of our first meeting. Harry had done so many romantic things for me (some grand gestures and some low-key) and suddenly I was buzzing with excitement at the thought of making a fuss of him. He would be in LA until after Valentines Day, so I looked upon our anniversary as an opportunity to celebrate our relationship, and how far we had come this past year. I was full of glee as I researched menu options for a gourmet meal, compiled a playlist of our favourite songs that held special meaning for both of us, and browsed online for yet more new underwear and a new outfit for that evening. 

In between all of this I spent a couple of evenings at my flat in Belsize Park boxing up the last of my belongings. I brought them back to the house, and then spent all day Saturday scrubbing every inch of the flat so it would be ready for Sarah to move in whenever she wanted. Her date on Wednesday with Gary had gone extremely well, judging by the way the pair of them kept exchanging glances across the office the following day and flirting outrageously at every opportunity. I managed to get a brief lowdown from her at lunchtime, and was pleased to hear they would be seeing each other again, and that both of them were seemingly on the same page about each other. 

A bouquet of flowers arrived at ten o'clock on the morning of Valentines Day, accompanied by a card that read One day I will be the one to bring you flowers. H xxx and then Callie and I spent the day in the pub, eating delicious food and drinking wine. I told her of my plans for our anniversary, and was surprised when she didn't seem as enthusiastic as I had expected. I put it down to my being a little insensitive (discussing my romantic anniversary plans on Valentines Day when she was single and still miffed over James).

"Don't go spending a fortune on all this," she advised, staring down at her wine glass. "You've been telling me how broke you are - don't blow all your money on one evening."

"It's important to me," I pouted, staring at her. "I want to show him he's the love of my life.  And anyway, Sarah will be moving into my flat shortly and she'll be paying me rent. My days of being skint are nearly over."

"Have you asked Harry if he's free that day?" Callie asked suddenly.

I frowned at her. "No. But he hasn't said he's got plans, and there's nothing in our calendar. Why are you being negative?"

"I'm not," she said quickly. "I just don't want you to go to all this trouble for nothing."

"It isn't for nothing," I snapped. "It means the world to me."

"OK," she said holding her hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry I brought it up."

I changed the subject after this, as I didn't want to fall out with her, and I also didn't want to listen to any attempts to put me off the idea. We headed back home around six, and just as we'd settled on the sofa, Harry called.

"Happy Valentines Day, baby," he said, when I answered.

"Happy Valentines Day," I said, happily. "Thank you for the flowers, they're beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you," he said huskily.

"Or you," I replied, and he chuckled.

"What are you doing?"

"Just spent the day in the pub with Callie," I answered. "How about you? Haven't you got some awards thing tonight?"

"A pre-Grammys gala," he replied. "Zayn's on the guest list, apparently. So that should be interesting."

"Do you think he'll talk to you?" I asked, thinking back to Zayn's recent comments about One Direction's music being 'generic as fuck' and his admission that he realised after the first year he no longer wanted to be in the band. I hadn't had chance to discuss this with Harry yet, but it flashed through my mind now.

"I'll make sure I find him and say hi," he was saying. "I don't want there to be an atmosphere. But Zayn can be a bit funny sometimes with stuff like this. If he blanks me, that's up to him. But I'm not going to avoid him."

"Does it piss you off?" I blurted. "The stuff he said about the band, I mean."

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"Honestly? Yes," he admitted. "I understand that he wanted to leave, and his reasons for doing so, but I'm disappointed with the way he has spoken about us since. He dissed the very thing that got him where he is today, and I don't think that was a nice thing to do. None of us would be in the positions we are now if it weren't for One Direction. We're so thankful to everyone who helped us achieve our dreams. So it's hurtful to hear Zayn scoffing at it and belittling it. It's not what I would do, if I were him. But each to their own, I suppose."

"Hmm," I mused.

"Why do you ask?"

"I'm interested," I shrugged. "I know we don't really talk about the band much, but I wondered how you felt about Zayn."

"How do you feel about Zayn?" he asked.

"I like him even less than I did when he was in One Direction," I said, without hesitation. "I think he's a prick for slating the band, I think he's a prick for fighting with Louis on Twitter, and I think he's a prick for never apologising for making me spill my drink on you."

Harry chuckled. "Don't hold back, baby. Say what you really think."

"And he seems to think he's better than all of you now he's gone solo," I said, emphatically. "His ego is so big it needs its own postcode."

He laughed heartily at this. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

"Hell hath no fury like a Directioner scorned," I corrected him, and he laughed again.

"You are funny, Jessie Braddy."

"Anyway, despite all that, I hope the party goes well," I concluded. "Jeff's going with you, isn't he?"

"Yeah," Harry yawned. "It should be a good evening."

"Will you be walking the red carpet?" I asked.

"Nah, not if I can avoid it," he said. "I think Zayn probably will though."

"Hey, have you got any plans for the fifth of March?" I asked suddenly, changing the subject as I decided at least to make sure Harry kept the date free, in case Callie was right and he decided to make other plans. "It's a Saturday."

"Um, not specifically, but I'm going to be at Mum's that weekend," he replied, and my heart dropped to my toes as I felt myself deflate like a popped balloon. "It's Mother's Day on the Sunday, so I was going to travel up on the Thursday before and spend a long weekend there with her. Why?"

"Oh, um, no reason," I mumbled. 

How could I have forgotten Mother's Day was the day after our anniversary? And more importantly, how could I have forgotten that Harry wouldn't be anywhere else in the world except in Holmes Chapel with his mum? 

"Aren't you seeing your mum on Mother's Day?" he asked curiously.

"Yeah, yeah," I stumbled. "I haven't arranged anything yet, though. I was just wondering what your plans were."

"I guessed you'd be wanting to see your family, and I knew you were unlikely to be able to get the time off work to come with me mid-week," he said. "I didn't want to take you for granted like last time."

"Don't be silly," I muttered, feeling tears springing to my eyes at the thought of my whole surprise being ruined.

"Was there something you wanted to do on the Saturday?" he asked.

"No, nothing in particular," I lied.

"OK, well if you're sure. I'd better get up, I have to go into Beverly Hills this morning and collect my suit for tonight." 

"Anything outrageous?" I teased.

"No, just plain black, and a white shirt," he said, and I could tell he was grinning.

"You can rock any look," I said. "Send me a picture once you're dressed and ready."

"Will do, baby. I love you. Sorry I couldn't be there with you on Valentines Day."

"There'll be plenty more," I said, trying not to let my disappointment show. "I love you too."

I ended the call and placed my phone on the arm of the sofa next to me.

"What's up?" Callie asked, looking up from the television. "Jess?"

"Harry's in Holmes Chapel the weekend of our anniversary," I muttered, my eyes filling freely with tears now I didn't have to keep up the façade.

"What? How come?"

"It's Mother's Day on the Sunday," I sighed, putting my hands over my face.

"So? He can drive up to see his mum Sunday morning, can't he?"

"No, he's having a long weekend there," I mumbled from behind my hands. "Fuck, I'm so disappointed."

Callie said nothing, and when I pulled my hands away from my face she was looking steadfastly down at her wine glass.

"What?" I asked, flatly.

"Nothing."

"Don't lie. I can tell you're dying to make a comment, so come on, let's hear it," I snapped, furious that my plans were ruined and wanting someone to yell at.

She looked up in alarm. "What? I'm not dying to make any comment," she said, looking hurt.

"And miss a chance to bash Harry? Pull the other one."

"Jess!" she protested. "I know you're upset that he's busy, but don't take it out on me!"

"Sorry," I apologised miserably, and she sighed as a tear slid down my cheek.

"Can't he go for his long weekend afterwards?" she suggested. "If you asked him..."

"No," I sniffed. "I'd have to tell him why, and it would ruin the surprise. And he probably doesn't even realise the occasion, or he would have made sure he was around to celebrate it, wouldn't he?"

Callie pulled an uncomfortable face, and I could tell she agreed with me but didn't want to add to my hurt. "Maybe he just hasn't realised the dates clash..?" she suggested, tentatively.

"It's fine," I muttered. "It was a stupid idea anyway."

"Oh Jess," she said softly, and I caught a glimmer of something that looked like guilt flash across her face, or it could have just been pity.

"Honestly," I said abruptly. "Forget it. We can go out for drinks instead, if you want? Cocktails in the Rose Garden?"

"Um, yeah, maybe," she said noncommittally, looking away. "Let's plan nearer the time."

~~~

I woke up the next morning to a snapchat from Harry of him wearing an off-white dress shirt and black suit, his hair looking longer than ever. I went online and of course the top story on the Daily Mail showbiz was Harry and Zayn both attending the event; Zayn having walked the red carpet just as Harry predicted. By lunchtime there were pictures of Harry leaving, looking a little worse for wear, and when I spoke to him that evening (his morning) he was hungover and grumpy.

The following week dragged without him, particularly as I was feeling miserable anyway thanks to my anniversary idea being quashed, and it seemed like years had passed without him when he rang me late on Saturday night to say he was going to Food Lab for dinner before he flew home the following morning, hoping to be spotted, to give him a couple of days' relief in the UK.

His flight wasn't due to land at Heathrow until the early hours of Monday morning, and it was around two a.m. that I heard the distant sound of the front door opening, and then a couple of minutes later muffled footsteps on the stairs. I rolled over sleepily as the bed dipped beside me, and Harry's arms slid around me and pulled me close him.

"Hey, you're awake," he whispered softly as I lifted my head to kiss him on the lips.

"I heard the front door," I whispered back. "I've missed you so much."

"This," he murmured as he pressed his lips to mine, "this right here is why I wanted you to move in." His hands slid up the back of my tshirt as I slipped one of my legs between his. "Coming home to you is possibly the best thing in the whole world."

"I love you," I breathed, pushing my hips forward to meet his and feeling the already hardening bulge in his boxers. I cupped his face in my hands as he slipped his tongue in my mouth, his hands drifting around to my front to stroke my breasts. 

"I love you too." His thumbs ran over my nipples and I let out a hum of appreciation and dipped my hand into his boxers to stroke his length. He pulled away from the kiss for a moment and gave a soft sigh; his eyes closing in pleasure, his breath tickling my cheek.

We kissed again, harder, and I pulled his shorts down and moved closer to him so his erection was pressing against my stomach, hard and hot. I gently ran my middle finger over his tip and he shuddered and opened his eyes to smile at me in the darkness. 

"That feels fucking amazing," he whispered.

His fingers hooked around the top of my knickers and he pulled them down while I shrugged my tshirt over my head and threw it down the bed. His lips pressed to mine again, his tongue sliding against mine as his hands trailed softly across my breasts, down my side and between my legs. I moaned quietly into his mouth as his fingers drew teasing circles on my inside thigh, slowly creeping higher, until one finger brushed lightly against me and drew a louder whimper from my lips. He repeated this a few times until I was beginning to ache for him, and then slowly slipped one finger inside me.

My hand gripped him tighter, and I moved it slowly up and down, swiping my thumb over his tip with each stroke, watching his face as his expression turned serious and his breathing became deeper. I pushed my hips down, trying to create more friction as his finger continued to tease me, and after a minute he withdrew it and pulled my leg up over his thigh. I pulled my hand away and he guided his tip towards me, slowly pushing into me as we lay side by side. His arm hooked around my back and pulled me closer to him, and he stared deep into my eyes as he pulled back and then slid forward. 

His fingers found my nipple again, and I closed my eyes and pulled his face to mine, my lips crashing onto his impatiently, muffling my moan but barely concealing his knowing smile at how much he was turning me on. I thrust towards him, meeting his every stroke with my own, and as our kissing became faster so did our rhythm. Every movement took me closer to my release, and I dug my fingers into his back as I gripped him tightly, relishing the taste of him that I had missed so much, and revelling in the closeness I craved. I hooked my leg around his waist, holding him against me as he panted between thrusts, and he squeezed my breast gently, brushing his fingers over my nipple and tipping me over the edge. I cried out, and his kiss deepened as his movements lengthened, drawing out every last second of my pleasure before giving into his own. I held his face in my hands and kissed him over and over again as he came, and when he finally stopped he gave me one last slow kiss, before drawing back to look at me, his eyes hooded and his expression sated.

We looked at each other in silence for a few moments, neither of us speaking. I felt my eyes closing and the warmth of Harry's arms as he pulled me into his embrace and kissed the top of my head gently. Now that he was home, it was as if everything had suddenly fallen into place.

~~~

Harry mentioned nothing over the course of the next week that suggested he acknowledged any significance of the date we first met. I tried to rationalise this in my head by reminding myself repeatedly that we had been apart for the majority of this last year, thanks to misunderstandings, lack of communication and Victoria's Secret models, and I knew that technically the day we met didn't count as the day we were officially an item as our whole relationship had been complicated from the start. But I couldn't shake off the feeling of disappointment that we wouldn't even be together on the day, as Harry would be a couple of hundred miles away with his family. I considered bringing up the subject with him, but the last thing I wanted to do was make him feel guilty for wanting to spend the weekend with his mum, as their time together was always so limited. And besides, I lived with him now. I couldn't really complain about a few short days away from him when the future stretched so beautifully and boundlessly in front of us.

I kissed him goodbye on the Thursday morning as I left for work, and made him promise to let me know when he arrived in Holmes Chapel. I got a snapchat from him at lunchtime, of him and Anne with the dog filter, and I sent one back of myself with the same filter, with the caption Missing you already. I received a screen filled with hearts in return.

Callie had been quiet in the lead up to Harry's weekend away, but in between Sarah moving into my flat and signing a contract drawn up by Harry's solicitor I hadn't really had much free time anyway. I texted Callie on Thursday night when I got home and asked if she fancied a few drinks on Saturday night, as we hadn't made any plans yet and I really didn't want to spend the evening alone reminiscing about the infamous house party. She texted back straight away to say yes, she was up for it, and we decided she would pick me up in a taxi on the way to The Rose Garden. 

Harry was spotted in Holmes Chapel with fans on Saturday afternoon, and the pictures were all over Twitter when I scrolled through my timeline in the bath as I got ready for our night out. Halfway through my soak Callie texted me.

From: Callie: I have NOTHING TO WEAR. What are you wearing? x

To: Callie: No idea!! Thinking something dressy as it's a Saturday night?? x

From: Callie: Same, but I still have NOTHING x

To: Callie: LIES. Your wardrobe is far more extensive than mine. But feel free to come and get ready here if you want to have a look through my stuff x

From: Callie: Thanks, I'll bear that in mind xxx

I didn't hear anything for another hour or so, by which time I had chosen a peach lace cap-sleeve dress (aka the fuck me dress) and a pair of nude heels. I picked out a soft grey blazer to accompany it, and hung them on the door of the wardrobe while I waited for the fake tan on my legs to dry. I curled my hair into chunky waves and made an effort with my make up, and just as I was wrestling with the zip on my dress I got another text.

From: Callie: Outfit sorted. Just called a cab xx

I slipped on the bracelet Harry had given me for my birthday, along with a pair of plain diamante earrings, and went downstairs to wait in the kitchen for the taxi to arrive. I had a quick glass of wine while I was waiting, and then my phone pinged with a text telling me Callie was two minutes away. I locked the house, put the alarm on and just as I closed the gate behind me a car pulled up and Callie grinned at me from the back seat.

I slid in beside her and shut the door as the car moved off.

"You look great!" we both said in unison, and then laughed. 

"Rebecca's coming too, we just need to pick her up from her boyfriend's house on the way," Callie said, as we passed Hampstead station and turned onto Haverstock Hill heading towards Camden.

"Your sister Rebecca?" I asked. "I didn't know she had a new boyfriend."

"Yeah, it's quite new, but they're very full-on," she replied. 

The traffic was fairly quiet for a Saturday evening, and I discreetly checked my phone as we drove along to see if Harry had texted me. He hadn't.

"No phones allowed tonight," Callie said, her beady eyes catching sight of what I was doing. "The last thing you need is to be getting all emotional about the date. Just enjoy yourself with us girls for the evening. It's been ages since we let our hair down properly."

"I will," I said, with a small sigh, shoving my phone back in my bag and zipping it shut.

I stared out the window, trying to pull my mind away from Harry. I still couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment that he hadn't realised the significance of the date. But dwelling on it wouldn't do me any good, as Callie had said, and I was even starting to bore myself with my own repetitive thoughts.

I glanced over at her as she tutted, tapping away on her phone screen before slipping her phone into her own bag. The car turned into a wide, tree-lined street with expensive-looking detached houses, and the car slowed down.

"What number?" the driver asked.

"Thirty-four," Callie replied. "She's not quite ready yet," she said, turning to me. "She's asked if we can come in for a quick drink first and call another cab in about half an hour."

I shrugged. "Fine with me."

The car pulled up outside a huge house with a sweeping driveway and a circular lawn with an ostentatious fountain in the centre. We climbed out of the car and I paid the driver while Callie straightened her dress and tucked her bag under her arm. As I stood up she beamed at me.

"Ready?"

"Yep," I nodded, and we began to walk across the gravel towards the front door, that stood between two majestic white pillars. It suddenly looked remarkably familiar.

"Wait a second," I said, slowing down to stare all around me. "Callie -"

"Hurry up," she called, pulling ahead of me and stepping up to the front door.

"Oh my God," I breathed, my insides beginning to tremble with nervous anticipation as I realised why my surroundings looked so familiar. 

As I stepped up next to her she turned to look at me, beaming with excitement, and rang same the doorbell she had rung exactly one year earlier. I just knew what she was going to say before she even opened her mouth:

"By the way, Harry Styles is going to be here tonight."

---***---

I mean, I couldn't not update on Harry's birthday, could I?! Sorry it's been two weeks between updates - I will try not to leave it so long until the next one, but I can't promise as I have a lot of stuff going on at the moment so I'm struggling to make time to write. 

I've had numerous requests lately for translations, and although I've put in my bio and on each book synopsis that I don't accept them, I still get asked, so just to clarify: I don't accept translations! This is purely because I can't verify the quality of the translation, and therefore would never know if it was an accurate representation of my work (I'm very particular about proofreading, as you probably all know.) And also, once it is published on someone else's profile, I have No Control over it (pardon the pun) which makes me nervous.

Anyway, back to Harry's birthday... I hope he's having a brilliant time with all those he holds dear, and is eating loads of cake 🎂🍰