(No Control - 38. Moments)

The show is emotional. Everytime I catch someone's eye I'm on the verge of tears.

When we sit down to sing Little Things Liam puts an arm around me. It takes everything I have to control my voice and keep singing. I nearly lose it when I see Louis sitting a few feet away with his arm around the air, pretending it's Zayn.

And when we sing Diana I just can't hold it in - I feel the tears coming and I have to bring my arm up over my face to hide my misery. I know the fans are onto it; they start screaming and I quickly scuttle away. I don't want this all over Twitter.

When we get backstage after Best Song Ever we give each other brief hugs, and get straight on the tour bus back to the hotel. We discuss the show at length, and all agree it went as well as could be expected. None of us are looking forward to the meetings tomorrow, when it will really hit home that he is gone for good and not coming back.

We fall silent after a while, and I pull my phone out of my pocket and switch it on. My heart lifts when I see I have a new voicemail from Jess, but I wait until I am back in my hotel room alone before I listen to it.

"Hey Harry, it's Jess. Sorry I missed all your calls. I've just heard about Zayn... I can't believe it... I hope you're OK and, um, Jakarta went as well as it could. I'm just leaving my conference now so I'll be in the car for a bit, so, um, call me if you want, or I'll be home in about an hour or so. Um, ok, bye."

She sounds nervous, and I smile to myself that she knows which show we were playing tonight. I knew she was a fan.

I desperately need a shower, but that can wait. I'm calling her back first.

I flop onto the bed on my stomach and press Call.

It rings several times and I'm just about to hang up when she answers:

"Hey, you're on speaker, but if you hang on, I'm just pulling over and I'll get out."

"OK," I tell her, and wait.

"Jess, what are you doing? It's pissing down out there," I hear someone say. It's a girl's voice.

"I'll be alright," Jess replies. "Back in a minute."

Is she talking to me? I'm not sure.

"Harry, I'm just disconnecting the bluetooth, hold on," she says, and I mutter, "OK."

There's a scuffling and an electronic beep, and then Jess comes on the line, much clearer now.

"Are you still there?" she asks. I can hear traffic noise in the background.

"Yeah, I'm here," I reply.

"Are you OK?" she asks, and the concern in her voice makes me want to spill my guts to her and tell her everything from start to finish, but I know I can't. I'm not allowed.

"No, not really," I say with a sigh. "I'm gutted."

"What happened?" she asks, and I throw caution to the wind.

"He just said he didn't want to do it anymore," I hear myself say. "He called me early this morning and I just knew something was wrong, cos it was like 2am in the UK. And he just said he was really sorry but he couldn't carry on, it was either his life with Perrie or his life with the band, and he had to go with his heart."

I shouldn't be fucking saying any of this, but it's out of my mouth before I can stop it.

"Oh my God," she says, and I realise I've just told a fan one of the biggest insider conversations ever. Modest's statement didn't even mention Perrie. If this gets out, it will be catastrophic.

I know I should be worried, because technically I don't know this girl one bit. But deep down, I trust her. She's had plenty of opportunities to sell her story, and so far she hasn't. She's protected my privacy, and I can't even be sure she's doing it because she's interested in me, because I honestly can't make up my mind if she really is. Which means she's genuinely trustworthy, not just when there's something in it for her.

"I'm sorry for calling you in the middle of the night," I apologise, pulling my thoughts back to the present. "I'd tried my mum and my sister but they didn't answer so I just thought I'd try you."

"Oh God, no, I'm sorry," she says sincerely. "My phone was on silent so I didn't hear it. I would have answered if I'd heard it."

Would she? Really? Even at 3am?

"Even at 3am?" I ask.

"Of course. It's you," she replies shyly, and my stomach flutters.

It's you.

Fuck, that really got me.

"Thanks," I say, trying to convey just how much her sincerity means to me.

"How was the show?" she asks, and I find myself opening up to her again.

"Tough. The last couple of shows were hard without him but we all thought he'd be back, but tonight it was awful. It felt so weird without him. It was really emotional."

"Were the fans ok?"

"Mostly. They seemed to enjoy the show. Everyone's still in shock I guess."

I roll over onto my back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling.

"Understandable," she says, and her voice sounds shaky, like she's shivering.

I remember her friend's comment about it pissing down. Is she standing out in the pouring rain listening to me whine about my problems?

"Are you standing out in the rain?" I ask her.

"Yeah but it's f-fine," she stutters.

Oh my God - what the hell is she doing?

"Go and get back in the car," I tell her. "I'll talk to you later."

I can't have her getting soaked through for me. At least not by the rain, haha.

I smirk at my own thoughts.

"Honestly, I don't m-mind," she stammers.

Well I do.

"Well I do," I insist. "I should take a shower anyway."

I stink.

I want to talk to her again, though.

"Will you call me when you get home?" I ask, feeling shy.

"Yeah course," she says, and I beam. "But it might not be for another hour or so. Won't you be in bed?"

"I'll wait up," I promise. There is no way on this earth I am going to sleep now if I think there's a possibility she might call me back. I hope she doesn't think I'm just saying that.

"Promise you'll call, no matter what time it is here?" I add.

No chill.

"I p-promise," she says, and her voice is still shaking. She's going to catch her death.

"OK. Go," I tell her, trying to be assertive.

"OK. I'll talk to you in a bit," she says, and we say our goodbyes and ring off.

I roll off the bed and go and get in the shower. I stand under the water for ages, staring at the pools of bubbles forming at my feet and watching them spiral way down the plughole.

I briefly wonder if this is a premonition of what is to come. Is this the future of One Direction I am watching, slowly draining away and disappearing out of reach?

I need to snap out of this.

Once I'm dry I pull on a pair of boxers, flick the tv on and get into bed. I channel surf for a bit, trying to find something of interest, and end up watching Sky News reporting Zayn's departure. It's depressing.

My phone beeps with a text from Jess: I'm going to have a really quick shower, then I'll call you if you're still up? x

OK xxx, I reply, and I let myself imagine her in the shower again while I wait for her to call back.

My mind wanders back to the thoughts of inviting her to stay with me in LA. I've been thinking about it on and off all afternoon and evening, and the more I debate it, the more I want to ask her. I want to spend some proper time with her, away from the spotlight. I want to get to know her. I feel like we've got a bit of a connection going on.

Of course, she's a girl so a 'really quick shower' is more like half an hour, and I grin at my phone when it finally rings, and mute the TV. I get comfy underneath the duvet before answering.

"Hey you."

"Hi," she says, and she sounds nervous. "Did I wake you?"

"Nah," I tell her. "I'm just in bed watching tv. How was the conference?"

I want to ask her about her day. She knows everything about mine already.

"Boring," she sighs. "I couldn't concentrate properly."

"Why not?"

"Well, I had a feeling something was going on," she says, and my heart skips a beat as I remember how I had a feeling she could tell I wasn't OK in the phone earlier.

"How do you mean?" I ask.

"Well, calling me in the middle of the night, then you didn't seem yourself on the phone... I dunno, I just had a feeling..."

My heart lurches harder this time.

"Yeah, sorry for calling you so late," I say.

"Please don't be," she says softly. "I'll keep the volume up from now on, so if you want to talk, just call me."

She's so sweet. I'm touched that she cares.

I'm grinning like a loser. I need to pull myself together.

I remember Gary was with her earlier, and I decide to probe a bit further about that.

"So, your friends are crazy," I remark, and she gives an embarrassed laugh.

"Yeah, sorry about them."

"Gary was in the car?" I blurt. For fuck's sake.

"Yes," she says, and she sounds wary.

I was sort of hoping she would reassure me I have nothing to worry about, but then I remember we're not officially dating or anything so she doesn't have to.

"OK," I say after a moment.

"Is it?" she asks, and I smile as I realise she is onto me.

"As long as he kept his hands off you," I reply, and I'm only half joking.

"Are you jealous, Mr Styles?!" she says, incredulously.

Of course I fucking am. This guy has history with her and he spends five days a week with her, while I'm thousands of miles away moaning down the phone to her about my latest crisis.

"Maybe," I say, trying not to give myself away entirely. "He spent the day with you and I didn't, that's enough to make any guy jealous."

"You spent the evening in the company of 50,000 women who are all hot for you," she replies, without missing a beat. "Don't talk to me about jealousy."

I'd turn them all down if I thought I'd be in with a chance with her.

"Yeah but none of them are as pretty as you," I say shyly.

She doesn't answer. Great. She's probably cringing at how much of a loser I am right now. I'm with her.

Unless... is she thinking I'm just spinning her a line?

Has the phone cut off?

I check - the call is still connected.

"Are you still there?" I ask, and she squeaks in confirmation.

Suddenly I get it - I've embarrassed her.

"Are you embarrassed?" I ask with a laugh.

"No," she says, and I know she's lying.

"OK," I say. I'm grinning.

"Stop grinning," she says.

What the fuck - how does she always know??

"How do you know I'm grinning?" I ask.

"I can hear it in your voice," she says.

That makes me so fucking happy.

"Well I can't help it," I confess. "You make me smile."

"Well you make me smile too," she replies, and I'm pretty sure she's smiling right now too.

That's basically an admission she likes me, isn't it?

I'm jumping in with both feet.

"So we've got a 2 month break coming up soon," I begin, and she murmurs in acknowledgement.

"Our last show is in Dubai, and I'm going to LA from there," I continue, and my heart begins to thud sickeningly.

"Oh," she says, and I blunder on.

"I was wondering if you wanted to come out to LA for a week, or maybe longer?"

She doesn't reply, again.

Fuck.

My heart is racing. I've messed this up, haven't I?

Bollocks.

"Jess?" I ask. "Are you still there?"

"Yes, I'm here," she replies.

"What do you reckon?" I ask.

"Um, yeah," she says. "I mean, yes. That would be amazing."

She just said yes. I can't stop smiling.

"Cool," I say goofily.

"I'll need to clear it with work first," she says.

"I'll pay for your ticket," I offer.

"No you won't," she says immediately, and she sounds pissed off.

"Why not?"

What did I say wrong?

"Because I'm not having people think I'm using you - hanging out with someone famous to get all the perks. I'm not like that."

"I know you're not," I reply. I knew that within minutes of meeting her.

"Well good. I'll sort out my own ticket."

"God you're fiesty," I say out loud, and this makes her laugh.

"Yes, I have heard that before," she says, and I don't doubt it. Sometimes I think I've bitten off more than I can chew with her.

"I like it," I tell her. "So I'll be in LA from 6th April. Do you think you'll be able to get the time off?"

"I should be able to," she replies. "I haven't got any other holidays booked. I'll check on Friday when I'm back in the office."

I can't believe she's agreed to come to LA.

"Great. I haven't really got anything planned over there, so we can do whatever you like."

"OK," she says.

"So tell me more about this team building thing," I say, changing the subject.

She laughs. "It was alright, really. Just loads of different group exercises."

"Like what?" I ask.

"Well one of them was where someone stands blindfolded and tries to throw a ball through a hoop and the rest of the group has to help them do it by telling then higher or lower and stuff like that," she says.

"Sounds fun," I chuckle. "And you're back there again tomorrow?"

"Yeah," she says. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Flying out to Johannesburg," I tell her. "We've got a couple of days off before our show on 28th."

"Have you got any plans?" she asks.

"This and that," I say vaguely, with a yawn. "We've got a couple of interviews and promo stuff."

I prefer talking about her. I spend my life talking about me, and the band.

We chat for a few more minutes, and I stifle another yawn, but she must hear it in my voice or something because she says, "You should get some sleep."

"Mmmm," I reply. "I'm enjoying talking to you though."

"I am great company," she says, and I chuckle at her quick wit. "Seriously though. You'll be tired tomorrow."

"We've got some meetings tomorrow to talk about how it's going to work without Zayn," I remember. The thought of it makes me stomach flutter with nerves. I don't want to think about it all just yet.

"How are the others feeling?" she asks tentatively.

"Pretty shit." I don't mean to sound blunt, but it's the truth. "Louis has taken it the hardest." I think back to his red eyes at soundcheck. "I just think it'll take a while for it to sink in properly."

I feel another yawn coming and I can't disguise it this time.

"Go to sleep," she scolds, softly, and I'm going to have to accept it. My eyelids are literally drooping.

"OK," I concede. "Thanks for calling and taking my mind off everything."

"It's fine, my bill's in the post."

I chuckle at her again. She just never gives an inch.

"Have fun at your thing tomorrow," I reply.

"I will. Hope your meetings go well," she says.

Ugh.

"Thanks. Let me know when you've got your holiday booked off."

I vaguely remember us saying our goodbyes, and I'm asleep before I can even set my alarm.