(No Control - 21. Story Of My Life)

By the time we're ready to leave the restaurant a crowd of photographers has gathered outside.

I'm on a week off! I want to shout at them. Give me one evening's peace and quiet!

But instead I usher my mum outside and try not to glower at the paps, and we scurry back to my car, avoiding the shouted questions, requests for pictures and general hysteria. Once we're safely in the Range Rover I start the engine and turn to Mum.

"I'm sorry about that," I tell her. "I hope it didn't ruin the evening."

"Of course not," she smiles, putting her hand over mine on the gear stick. "It wasn't your fault."

"I know but I hate it when they hassle you," I grumble.

Sometimes I feel like shit for the whirlwind I brought to my family's door the day I auditioned for X Factor. They have never once complained, and that somehow makes it worse. I would hate for it to bother them privately, and them be too afraid to tell me.

"I'm quite capable of coping with it," she tells me firmly. "I am so proud of the way you handle it. You're always so polite to everyone, even though I know you get fed up with it sometimes. You don't know how it feels to see your boy, your child, doing so well and being so lovely. One day when you've got children of your own you'll understand."

Uh oh - she's getting emotional. That'll be the wine talking.

I squeeze her hand and we begin the drive back to Holmes Chapel. "Thanks for always being there," I say after a minute.

She sniffs and smiles at me, and nods. I know she understands. I don't know what I'd do without my family.

~~~~~~~~

When I come downstairs the following morning Gemma is eating breakfast in her pajamas at the kitchen table. My Little Pony pajamas.

"And you're worried about my mental age?" I remark as I shove some bread in the toaster and begin to make a cup of tea.

"No, I worry about the underage girls you like to seduce," she fires back.

"Oh my God, stop saying things like that!" I protest. "It only takes one person to make a throwaway comment in jest and there'll be a fucking story about it on Sugarscape, and I really will be arrested!"

Gemma laughs. "Relax, Harry. I know you're not into the barely-legals. And I've had enough experience of your celebrity lifestyle to know how it works by now, thank you."

"I know. I'm sorry," I sigh, and turn back to my toast.

"Are you alright?" she asks after a minute, and I turn around to see concern in her eyes.

I hesitate. I've already spoken to Mum about this, but it would be good to get Gemma's perspective, being my age and all, and a girl.

"You're a girl," I muse out loud.

"Yep," Gemma nods. "Thanks for noticing."

"OK, I need some advice."

She looks like she's biting back a sarcastic comment. "I'm listening."

"OK. Don't take the piss, though."

"Can't promise that. Kidding!" she adds hastily as I turn away again. "I promise I won't. Much. Go on, spill. I've been dying to ask you about this girl anyway, but Mum made me promise not to."

What the fuck?

"How do you know it's about her?"

"Please. Your face was a picture yesterday when you got that tweet. You look like you'd slept with a hanger in your mouth."

"Don't try and pass off Friends jokes as your own," I chide her.

"10 points for getting that one!" she laughs. "So go on. Ask away, and I will advise." She pulls her mouth into a grimace, raises her eyebrows and bats her eyelashes at me.

I ignore her face, and tell her the whole story. When I'm finished she looks at me thoughtfully.

"So how do you feel at the idea of Nadine with somebody else?"

My stomach flutters lightly.

"Why? Is she with someone else?!" I ask quickly.

"Do you care if she is?"

I debate this for a moment. I'm not sure. The thought of it doesn't exactly make me happy, but it doesn't make me sick to my stomach the way I thought it would. It is inevitable that she will move on, I suppose. I want her to be happy, regardless of whether it is with me or not.

"I want her to be happy," I finally answer.

"How noble," Gemma remarks dryly.

"It's the truth!" I protest. "I thought that she would be happy with me, but obviously not. This is where the problem is - I just don't know how I feel about it."

"Do you want to cry about it?"

I wrinkle my nose. "No."

"Do you hate her for dumping you?"

"No."

"Do you want her back?"

"I don't know."

Gemma sighs. "OK, if Nadine called you right now and said, 'Harry I miss you and I want to work it out,' what would you say?"

"I'd probably say yes," I admit.

"So you're not over her," Gemma concludes. "And there's no point doing anything with the one night stand girl until you are."

"Her name is Jess," I tell her, feeling irked by the way Jess keeps getting referred to as a 'one night stand'. I know that's what she was, but I don't like the way it sounds. Like she's cheap or something. She definitely isn't cheap.

"Jess, then," Gemma corrects, picking up her phone and tapping the screen.

We are silent for a minute, and then Gemma says, "Her tweet doesn't give much away, does it?"

"Whose?"

"Jess's."

"What are you doing - don't look at her profile!" I exclaim, trying to snatch Gemma's phone away from her across the table, but she giggles and turns away. I lunge at her and she bends forward away from me, laughing.

"Oh no, I just followed her by accident!" Gemma laughs.

I feel the colour drain from my face. She has got to be kidding.

"What... are you fucking joking? You'd be better joking. If she sees... she's gonna think I've been talking about her to you... she's gonna think I'm a stalker. Oh God. Why did you fucking follow her?!" I rake my hands through my hair and look up at Gemma, panicking.

She's grinning at me. How can she find this funny?

"Why are you grinning like that? It's not funny! This is a disaster! Unfollow her, quick, before she notices!"

"God, Harry, I'm joking, lighten up. I didn't really follow her."

"Wha.... you didn't?"

My breathing is rapid and my heart is pounding. I stare at Gemma, searching her face. I can't tell if she's winding me up or not.

"No, I was teasing you." She swings back round on her chair so she's sitting properly at the table again. "Interesting that it bothered you so much when you thought I did, though."

"Yeah, because... because your followers would have been all over it within seconds, and that would have set more rumours off. People would definitely think she was my girlfriend if you followed her as well."

This is true.

"Funny, that's not what you said a minute ago."

I don't answer.

"Your first instinct was to worry about what she would think, not what the rest of the world would think," Gemma continues.

I still don't say anything.

"Interesting," Gemma remarks again, and she stands up and puts her cereal bowl in the dishwasher, before walking out of the kitchen and leaving me alone with my thoughts.

~~~~~~~~

When I check Twitter later on I am not surprised to see the pictures of me and Mum leaving the restaurant in Knutsford last night, and there is an article on the Daily Mail about us going out for dinner. It never fails to amaze me the boring shit the media will print, and the amount people that are interested enough to read it.

The rumours about me and Jess seem to have calmed down a bit, thankfully.

Robin is back at work today, but Gemma isn't going back to London until Thursday morning so Mum, Gemma and I go for a walk along the River Dane. It's quiet and relaxing, and no one is around. It's cloudy and blustery, so we walk briskly to keep warm, chatting about random, unimportant stuff.

When we get back I notice I have a missed call from Grimmy. I debate calling him back, but then decide I can't be bothered with questions about Friday night. I am taking Mum's and Gemma's advice and leaving things be for now until I figure out what I want.

I just need a stress-free week, and Holmes Chapel is the place to de-stress.

I have a quiet couple of days, and head into Manchester with some old mates from school (and my security) on Wednesday. I get recognised of course, and spend half the time posing for pictures with fans, and by the time I get back to Mum's I'm shattered, but looking forward to seeing Uncle Mike and Aunty Dee tonight.

We go to a restaurant near Preston called San Marco, and I'm happy to see my cousin Ella has come along too. I spend half an hour updating them on the tour so far, and get grilled by Uncle Mike about my love life, which is a bit awkward, especially as I can see Gemma smirking at me across the table.

I don't know where she gets that smirk from, but it's very irritating.

It's late by the time we get home but I flop on the sofa and switch the TV on. There's nothing of interest on, so out of habit I go on Twitter and read some of my mentions. Some of these fans are so dedicated it's untrue. Some of them have literally tweeted me like fifty thousand times asking me to follow them. I contemplate doing a few follows, but I sort of like it that Jess is as the top my following list at the moment, so I leave it for now.

I scroll through her profile again and look at the picture she tweeted me with the birthday cake. She's so pretty. I stare at the photo on my screen for a minute, before opening a DM to her, my heart pounding wildly. I lay on my back on the sofa, holding my phone in the air above my face for a few minutes, pondering.

I am so fucking shit at this.

What do I even say?

Why hasn't she DM'd me?

I have been putting off thinking about this for a few days, like I promised myself I would, but now I am alone and suddenly wide awake, I can't get her out of my head.

If she was into me she would have texted me or DM'd me wouldn't she?

Maybe she just wants to forget about the whole thing. She said she doesn't do one night stands and thinks they're tacky. Does she think I'm tacky? Oh fuck, I didn't even think of that. Is that why she hasn't been in touch? Maybe she regrets the whole night.

My phone slips and lands hard on my face.

Fuck. That hurt.

I pick it up and look at the screen to see a load of gobbledegook on the message entry box. For a second I think I've sent it to Jess and my entire body breaks out in a cold sweat. I carefully delete the random characters, come out of Twitter and lock my phone. Fuck. That was close. My heart is pounding.

This is fucking ridiculous. I need to sort my shit out.

If she hasn't got in touch by tomorrow night I'm just going to forget about her. It's probably for the best anyway. I don't want to be the one to tell Karen I've chased this girl any further. She'd wring my neck.

I decide to make a cup of hot chocolate and take it up to bed with me, and I walk into the kitchen where Mum is tidying a few things away. She declines my offer of a drink so I pull one mug out, spoon some chocolate powder into it and switch the kettle on.

Once it's boiled I pour the hot water into the mug and top it up with a bit of milk to cool it down and thicken it up a bit. As I'm stirring it Mum hands me a saucepan to put away in the cupboard in front of me. I bend down and shove it in, and as I stand up I knock my mug of hot chocolate. It wobbles and I reach my hand out to steady it, and in doing so make it tip towards me.

The contents leap out of the mug and slop onto the worktop and splash the bottom of my shirt.

"Fuck!" I shout furiously. Another fucking shirt ruined - that's three in the space of one week.

A jolt runs through me as the memory of Jess's lips on mine comes flooding into my mind, and I barely hear Mum telling me off for swearing so aggressively. She reaches round me with a cloth to mop up the mess and tries to push me out of the way.

"No - wait," I tell her, and my heart is pounding - from the memory of Jess, and the idea I've just had. "Hold on," I say, pulling my phone out.

"Harry, it's dripping all over the floor!" she says exasperatedly.

"Don't worry, I'll clean it up, just hold on," I beg.

I hold the phone at chest height and snap a photo of the spilled hot chocolate, making sure to capture the splash on the bottom of my shirt that is now seeping into the fabric, threatening to stain. I couldn't give a shit about that right now.

I quickly wipe the mess up with some paper towels, kiss my mum on the cheek and hurry upstairs. I throw the shirt on the floor, pull my jeans off and jump into bed, my heart still thumping.

I examine the picture I've just taken. It's perfect - no one will understand the significance except me and Jess. I need a caption for it though.

It takes me literally half an hour to come up with something, and to be honest it's not even that great, I'm just shattered and can't think straight anymore. I need to get Jess's attention and for her to understand it is aimed at only her. That way, if she ignores it I will know she definitely isn't interested.

I know this is the coward's way out but seriously I am so shit at trying to chat up girls. You all know my pathetic efforts on Friday night. Don't tell me it's cute. It's not cute. It's embarrassing.

And besides, this is more fun. It's cryptic to everyone else, but Jess will understand.

I suddenly realise in doing this I am laying my cards on the table and letting her know I am interested. I am making a move. I am moving on from Nadine.

I hesitate.

The words are waiting on my screen, ready to go. My thumb is hovering over the Tweet button.

Fuck it.

@Harry_Styles: 3rd shirt ruined in a week. No one else to blame this time. #littlewhitelies

Tweet.

No going back now.