(No Control - 26. Night Changes)

We talk and laugh all through our starters, and as the waiter clears our plates Jess asks me what time we're flying out tomorrow.

"I think it's about 8.30," I reply.

"In the morning?"

"No, the evening. It got moved back. I'm getting picked up from home at 6."

"So how come you came back to London today?" she asks.

Oh fuck. Should I tell her I came back a day early for her? Does that sound lame?

I clear my throat nervously, stalling for time. I am so shit at lying, it isn't even worth trying.

"To take you out," I admit. "If you'd said no I would have stayed an extra night with my mum and driven down tomorrow morning."

"I'm flattered," she says, looking away, and I smile.

"Good. To be honest, I thought you were going to turn me down."

Oh for fuck's sake. Why is my mouth running away with me?

"Turn you down?" she repeats, shifting her gaze to look at me again.

Great, she's going to make me explain myself.

"Well, yeah," I mutter uncomfortably. "It kind of threw me a bit when you didn't text me after I put my number in your phone."

Understatement of the year.

I won't tell her I obsessed over it all week.

"I didn't even notice it," she admits. "Of course, you could have just asked me for my number..."

Yes, Jess, don't you think I haven't regretted being so uncool this whole time?

"It was a spur of the moment thing." I try and dig my way out of this. "And after I followed you on Twitter I thought you'd probably message me, but you didn't. I wasn't sure if you were interested or not."

I need to stop talking. And digging further.

"I didn't want to pester you," she says awkwardly, and a blush begins to creep up her face yet again as she continues. "You must get women throwing themselves at you daily. I wasn't expecting to hear from you again to be honest."

I'm not really surprised at her reasoning. I know I have a reputation for liking the ladies, but honestly, the majority of it is fabrication.

I smile at her. "You know how to keep a guy guessing. I like that."

"It's not intentional," she explains. "I just don't do clingy."

Music to my ears.

"I think I figured that out," I nod.

"So... So that picture you tweeted the other day of the spilt drink..." she begins and then trails off.

Hmmm. Looks like I wasn't the only one wondering what the other was thinking.

I grin at her. "It was the only way I could think of getting your attention. I thought if you reacted to it, I'd ask you out. If you ignored it, I'd have assumed you weren't interested."

"So it was aimed at me?" She's looking at me like she finds this unbelievable.

"Course it was," I tell her. "I just had to be a bit cryptic so no one else would understand."

She grins behind her champagne flute.

Our main courses arrive and to my surprise Jess asks the waiter for some water. Doesn't she like the champagne? I look over at her but don't want to embarrass her by asking.

"I've hardly eaten anything all day," she tells me. "This is starting to go to my head."

My confusion must have shown on my face then. I wonder how many other times my face has betrayed me tonight.

Does she know I can't take my eyes off her? Can she tell my heart is pounding at the thought of kissing her? Is she aware of the periodic fluttering in my stomach?

I fucking hope not.

"So, do you have any brothers or sisters?" I ask, trying to pull my thoughts away from her lips.

"Yeah, I have a little sister, Maddie, and an older brother, Calvin."

"Are you close?"

"Yeah, we are. Calvin's the typical protective older brother, but he knows me better than anyone. And Maddie is my baby sister who isn't really a baby anymore, but we share a mutual love of One Direction. I took her to her first concert and that's how I became a fan."

"So you're the middle child?" I tease, and she laughs.

"Yeah, I have a need to prove myself, apparently." She throws me a wry look. "I do, but I don't think it has anything to do with being the middle child. I'm just competitive with myself and like being good at what I do."

"Nothing wrong with that," I nod.

She goes on to tell me about her parents who live in Cambridge, and how she likes to visit them whenever she gets chance. I'm struck by how similar we are, with our love for our families.

I barely notice the waiter clearing our plates until he returns with the dessert menu. Jess shakes her head and excuses herself to the bathroom and I am left alone at the table.

I don't want this date to end yet. I am enjoying myself too much. I want to ask her to come back to my place again. Not to get her into bed - although I won't deny that would be a massive bonus - but because I want to carry on hanging out with her. She's beautiful, funny, intelligent and interesting, and she makes my fucking heart pound.

I realise I am staring blankly across the restaurant, and as I pull my thoughts back to the present Jess sits back down opposite me and I smile.

"Would you like another drink?" I offer.

"No thanks," she replies. "I think there's still champagne left, but I don't think it would be a good idea to finish it."

I disagree, but I won't argue.

"Sure?" I press, but she's firm. "So, what do you want to do now?" I ask. "Can I persuade you to come back to my house for a coffee?"

I'm hoping that doesn't sound like a cliche. If she just wants coffee, we can have coffee. I'll take what I can get if it means spending a bit longer with her.

"As much as I would love to, I really do have to be up at the crack of dawn to finish my work stuff," she says, and she really does look regretful. "I'm honestly not making that up."

Gutted.

I smile at her. "I believe you. But that doesn't mean I'm not disappointed."

"Sorry," she says, and she looks how I feel.

I catch the waiter's eye and request the bill, and immediately Jess reaches into her bag.

"Please let me pay my way," she says.

"Absolutely not. I asked you out, so I'm paying."

I am not budging on this.

"Yes but you paid last time you took me out," she argues.

"The guy should pay."

She shakes her head."Nah uh. That's sexist."

No, it's being a gentleman.

"No, it's the right thing to do," I tell her, and I wink at her.

"Stop doing that," she says, looking away.

"Doing what?"

What did I do?

"That wink!" she exclaims, and once again her face is bright red.

So just because I like seeing her flustered, I wink again.

"Yes, that one!" she scolds me, but she's smiling as she says it and it makes me want to torment her further just so she can tell me off again.

I pay the bill and the waiter brings her blazer over, so we stand up.

"Are you ready for the paparazzi again?" I ask, remembering how nervous she seemed on the way in.

I watch her slip her arms into her jacket and bring her hair forward over her shoulder. She bites her lip and it sends a shoot of desire straight to my groin. Great.

"I think so," she says nervously, looking so incredibly beautiful and vulnerable.

"You're beautiful," I say out loud without thinking, and immediately wish I could take it back because honestly, who says shit like that?

She looks up at me through her eyelashes and I stiffen - no, not like that - I mean my whole body goes rigid and for a second I hold my breath as a look of unveiled desire flows between us.

She wants me.

I fucking swear to God she's just given me those fuck-me eyes. I can't be imagining this.

I try to suppress a smile but I can't, and I feel myself reaching forward to brush my fingers against hers. The way she's looking at me... she wants me to kiss her, I can tell. Fuck, I want to kiss her.

But I can't, not in public.

Somehow I manage to form a few words.

"Not here. Let's go."

She turns towards the door and I walk close behind her. I can smell her perfume; it's the same one that was on my pillow earlier, the reminder of that trace of innocence.

Those words just sum her up perfectly.

"Remember, just keep walking and just pretend they're not there," I whisper in her ear.

This isn't really necessary, I just want an excuse to lean in closer to her.

She nods discreetly so I know she has heard me, and then the host is opening the door to the blinding flashes from the paparazzi's cameras. I hold Jess's arm and guide her down the steps and we turn left onto the pavement, ignoring the shouts.

"Harry! This way!"

"Harry how was your evening?"

"Who's your girlfriend, Harry?"

"Harry, just one picture, please!"

"Harry!"

The shouts trail off as it becomes clear to them that we are not stopping tonight, and as we turn left again to walk down the ramp to the car park I hear Jess let out a shaky breath.

"Are you OK?" I ask her.

"I'm fine," she says, and her voice sounds calm. "It's just strange when you're not used to it."

I know that feeling. The first few times the paps went crazy over us was fucking terrifying. I remember looking into Niall's eyes as we were bundled into a people carrier and his face was as white as a sheet. That seems like a lifetime ago.

I know from experience they'll be waiting for the car as we leave the car park, so they can shove their lenses in my face and temporarily blind me while I'm trying to drive.

We approach my car and I go straight to the passenger side and open the door for her, and once she is safely in I climb in the drivers side.

"So, back to mine?" I tease, even though I know she won't say yes.

"Nice try," she says, with a brief smirk.

"Damn, it was worth a shot."

We drive up the exit ramp and sure enough, there they are, hurrying towards the car, their cameras clicking and flashing like crazy.

"Oh my God," Jess breathes from beside me. Fuck - I never warned her they would be there. I'm so fucking used to it by now that it has just become part of my life.

She drops her head down so her hair falls in her face and I screw my eyes up against the flashes from the cameras. Honestly, this is borderline dangerous. How the fuck am I supposed to see the road? I wait until I am sure the road is clear before pulling out and driving off carefully while the little spots that were dancing in front of my eyeballs slowly fade.

"They're crazy!" she breathes, watching them scurry along the pavement chasing the car, still flashing away.

"Yeah, sorry about that," I apologise. "I should have warned you they would be waiting for the car."

"It's OK."

"I hope that hasn't ruined your evening."

I glance at her as I say this so I can see her reaction. I don't know what I will do if it has put her off me.

"Of course not," she says. "It would take more than that to ruin such a great night."

Phew.

"Glad you enjoyed it," I smile.

"I did," she nods, smiling back shyly. "Thank you for dinner."

"My pleasure. Thank you for coming out with me."

Please don't let this evening be over yet.

The journey back to her flat seems to be over in seconds. I pull into an empty space in the car park and turn the engine off.

I really want to kiss her.

The fucking inside light of the car comes on though, and I know I mustn't be seen, so that pours cold water all over that idea.

"Will you let me walk you to your door?" I ask.

"Sure," she says, unbuckling her seatbelt.

YESSSS!

I am out of that car quicker than an alcoholic to a free bar, and I open her door for her, holding my hand out to help her down. The familiar jolt shoots through me once again as our fingers touch, and I find myself wondering why no one has had this effect on me before.

Don't get me wrong, I've had butterflies, but never to this extent; to this intensity.

I look into her eyes and she returns my gaze. I am unable to look away. I close the door behind her and I let the momentum pull me close towards her. She closes her eyes and I take this as a green light to make my move. Our lips are literally so close I feel her breath on mine, and then the fucking security light comes on and for a second I think it is a pap's camera. I jump back from Jess and she jumps back from me and a mangy cat shoots across the car park from between two cars and disappears into a bush.

Fuck.

I begin to chuckle at my overreaction and Jess is laughing too, and shaking her head, presumably in disbelief. The fucking moment has passed now. I can't believe it either.

Now what?

She begins to walk to the front door and I quickly follow, trying to gather my thoughts and pluck up the courage to make another move.

I follow her inside and up the stairs to the door of her flat, acutely aware of the seconds ticking down until I have to either man up and kiss her, or go home.

I walk right up behind her as she puts her key in the lock and then she turns to me and takes a deep breath.

She doesn't say anything.

I need to say something, if only to drown out the sound of my thundering heart, that she surely must be able to hear.

My face is only a couple of inches from hers now and she hasn't pulled away. She remains right where she is, and her gaze drops briefly to my lips and then back to my eyes again.

"I'd really like to kiss you now," I say, because it's the only thing I can think of to say, because it is the only thing I am thinking.

My voice sounds strained. How fucking embarrassing.

I don't wait for an answer, and instead press my lips onto hers.

I've only been dreaming of this moment for the best part of a week.

She kisses me back, with more fire than I ever could have hoped for, and in that moment I know I am not going to be able to stay away from this girl no matter how hard I try.

So I'm not even going to try.