(No Control - 25. Everything About You)

The host walks over as soon as we're through the door, before I can ask Jess if she is OK. I recognise him - I've been here a few times.

"I have a reservation for 8.30," I tell him, and he gives us a nod of acknowledgement.

"This way sir, miss," he says.

He walks off and I hold my hand out for Jess to go first. As we walk across the restaurant towards a quiet corner I notice people looking over as we pass. But they're not looking at me - their eyes are on the beautiful girl a couple of feet in front of me in the hot black dress.

Little black dress just walked into the room, making heads turn, cant stop looking at you, I sing in my head.

I need to stop singing One Direction songs. I'm scared she's turning me into a Directioner.

We arrive at the table and the host takes Jess's jacket. As we sit down I request a bottle of Dom Perignon before I realise I haven't even asked Jess what she wants - I just assumed she would like it.

"Is that ok with you?" I ask, feeling like a dick for being so rude and presumptuous.

"Yes fine, thanks," she replies, and she gives me a sort of reassuring smile that I can't help returning. It boosts my confidence.

"So I hope your laptop doesn't mind me taking you out tonight," I begin, and she laughs, which makes me smile again.

"I'm sure it doesn't."

"Well, more fool your laptop," I tease. "What were you supposed to be doing?"

"I just had some data to input into the system," she explains. "I approved a load of applications today but they need all the details to be entered before I can issue the policies."

Oh yes, she's an insurance underwriter. I don't fully understand what that is, and I stupidly never thought to Google it before I came on this date. More fool me, then.

"What type of insurance do you cover?" I ask, hoping her answer will give me more of a clue as to what she does.

"Commercial," she replies. "It's for companies. So I look at their financial information, like their accounts, director history etc, before deciding if they're an acceptable trade risk."

It's becoming clearer. She's must be pretty brainy if she decides stuff like that.

"Wow," I say. "Sounds complicated. Do you enjoy it?"

"It's not really," she says shyly, and I want to kiss her because she looks so cute. "But yeah, I absolutely love it. I find it really interesting looking into company accounts and seeing how they fare. And my office is great, I have some good friends there."

"That's great," I nod. I love her enthusiam for everything. It's infectious. "I can't imagine being stuck in a job you hate, day in, day out."

"Me neither," she says, and then she bites her lip and looks at the wall like she's embarrassed. "I know my job would probably bore most people silly but I'm a bit of a nerd so it's right up my street."

Is she serious? She's not a nerd, and it doesn't sound boring - not the way she talks about it anyway. Every word that comes out of her mouth sounds hot. Like, she could be talking about watching paint dry and I think I'd still want her to explain it in more detail.

This thought makes me laugh. "You're not a nerd. And there's nothing wrong with nerds anyway."

The host reappears before she can say anything else, and pours our champagne. I clink my glass with hers and we take a sip. I need to go easy on this because I am driving.

The talk about her job has reminded me of the photo she sent me, and I am feeling giddy and playful. I pull my phone out of my pocket and go into my camera roll.

"So," I begin. "About this picture you sent me..." I look up to see her reaction but she hasn't caught on yet. "You said you were sitting at your friend's desk."

She begins to smile and I know she's realised what I'm doing. Her face is slowly turning pink.

"Um... yes?" she says.

I turn my phone towards her to show her the picture. I have a stupid grin on my face right now, but I can't help it.

"Why does it say 'Jessica Bradshaw - Underwriter' on that sign next to you?"

"Um, my friend has the same name as me?" She wrinkles her nose and I want to kiss that, too.

Poor excuse there, Jess.

"That must get really confusing in your office. Someone works in your office with the exact same name as you, does the same job, and is also a One Direction fan?"

"We manage," she squeaks, and clears her throat before throwing me a defiant look. "Anyway, she likes you. I told you, I'm more of a Louis girl."

Ah, nice try Jess. You've played this card before, remember?

She hasn't mentioned the band once tonight - it was me who brought it up in the car and she didn't pursue it.

"Yeah so you said," I laugh. "But then you admitted you weren't, and you're out with me tonight, and you haven't mentioned Louis once."

"Alright," she says, holding her hands up. "Alright. You got me. It is my desk. I told you I was a nerd."

"Hey, liking One Direction does not make you a nerd," I object, turning the phone back round so I can examine the picture again. I grin at the mug on her desk with my face on it. "Nice mug."

"Thanks," she says, faintly. I sneak a look at her - her eyes are closed, but she's taking the abuse well, despite her face now blending in perfectly with the bright red wall beside us.

"And mousemat," I continue. "And pens. And stickers." I can't help laughing.

"Ok, ok, we have established that up until about two minutes ago I was a huge fan, but I think I am rapidly changing my mind," she retorts, but the grin is still there.

"Oooh, fighting talk," I smirk. I study her face for a moment before saying, "I'm just playing. I was just getting you back for the Louis comment."

I wink at her, and she laughs too.

"Truce?" she asks, holding her hand out. I shake it, and the feel of her fingers on mine makes my stomach flutter again.

"Truce," I nod.

We examine the menus and I pull a silly face at Jess to make her laugh, before the waiter comes over to take our orders.

"So what would you be doing if you weren't famous?" Jess asks.

"I dunno, either a physiotherapist, or a lawyer maybe?" I was never really sure, and luckily I never needed to make the decision. "I was still undecided what A-Levels I was going to take before the band took off, so I don't know what I would have ended up doing," I tell her. "What about you? Did you always want to do what you're doing?"

I'm conscious I keep turning the conversation back to her, but I'm forever answering questions about myself and sometimes I think I am so boring. I'd rather know more about her.

"Not really," she says thoughtfully. "I have a degree in business and took this job as a stop-gap but now I love it so I'm happy where I am for now. I'd like to set up my own company one day, but I'm having too much fun in this job to leave. We're all so close at work, it's like my second family."

Wow. A degree? I'm impressed. She really is brainy.

Gemma has a degree, and she usually can't go more than a week without reminding me that she got the brains in our family. I think that's a little harsh to be honest.

"That's great," I say to Jess. "Do you all meet in the toilets for a gossip, like they do in movies?"

Ah, what the fuck was that? I was doing so well.

Jess blushes and chuckles guiltily with a faraway look in her eye and I know I've just hit the nail on the head.

"You do, don't you!" I laugh.

"Well, not the toilets, usually the kitchen," she admits. "There's always office gossip floating around."

"Did you tell them you were coming out with me tonight?" I wonder out loud.

She hesitates. "Well... I kind of did," she says awkwardly. "But I said it sarcastically, so they all thought I was joking. I haven't actually told anyone properly."

"Why not?"

I already know the answer, but I want to hear it from her, so next time Karen makes a sweeping assumption about her I can knock her flat.

Karen, I mean.

Figuratively, of course.

"Because I would never hear the end of it," Jess is saying. "And then it would be all over Facebook, and Twitter, and that's not really my thing."

No, you beautiful girl, I know the attention isn't your thing. I got that within about ten minutes of meeting you, I think to myself.

But out loud I ask, "Oh yeah, how are the Twitter followers coming along?"

She rolls her eyes. I've missed that this last week.

"Around 30,000 last time I checked," she says impatiently. "It got worse after..." She suddenly stops and looks down at the tablecloth, and I know what she was about to say.

"After the picture from Saturday morning?" I supply.

She looks up at me and bites her lip nervously. "Yeah. Sorry about that. I had nothing to do with it, I swear."

Well duh.

"I know that."

"Really?" she asks, her eyebrows knitted together. "I was worried you might have thought I had spoken to the media or something. But I would never do that," she says quickly.

Is she for real? She thought I would assume the worst of her?

OK so maybe I was worried for about a second when I first got the phonecall from Karen but I don't think I ever truly believed she had sold her story.

"Jess, I've not even known you a week but I know you wouldn't do that." I touch her hand across the table, and my stomach jolts for about the hundredth time tonight.

"Ok good," she says, and lightly brushes her finger against mine.

I feel like I have just stuck my finger in a plug socket. The electricity flowing through me right now is enough to make my hair stand on end.

I look into her eyes and she bites her lip and looks away. Christ, something else is awake now.

She's amazing.

"Have I told you you look amazing?" I breathe.

I feel lightheaded, and it's nothing to do with the small amount of champagne I've drunk.

"Thank you," she says shyly. "I think you may have said it, yeah."

She looks back up at me and our eyes meet and we both smile.

My heart starts to pound.

Then the fucking waiter arrives with the starters and the moment is broken, but I am left tingling with anticipation of where this might lead; not just tonight but after, when I'm back from tour.

The voice telling me it is a bad idea to date a fan suddenly sounds small and far away. It also sounds suspiciously like Karen's.

The waiter tops up Jess's glass and goes to fill mine but I stop him.

"No, thank you," I tell him and he nods. "Could I have some water please? I'm driving." I direct the last two words to Jess, in answer to her unasked question and confused look.

"Woah, I can't drink this whole bottle by myself!" she says, her eyes wide. "I wouldn't be able to stand up!"

"Laying down is fine with me," I say before I can stop myself, and wink her at her, causing the blush to rise in her cheeks yet again.

"I'm up early in the morning," she replies, shaking her head. "I have to finish the work I put off to come out with you tonight. So don't be getting any ideas, Mr Styles."

Too late, sorry. Those ideas have been in my head all week.

"And what ideas would they be, Miss Bradshaw?" I wiggle my eyebrows at her, grinning.

"Anything that involves anything other than dinner!" She bats me down yet again.

She did this last time too. She seems to enjoy keeping me on my toes.

That's fine with me.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." I pretend I am clueless.

"Course you don't."

There's that eye-roll again.

I suppress my grin and look down at my plate. This is one of the best dates ever.