(No Control - 44. Loved You First, second part)

I'm chuffed when we get in the car to come home and Ed Sheeran comes on the radio, and Jess starts singing along to Thinking Out Loud. She turns the volume up, like she did with Ellie Goulding, and she's totally absorbed in the music.

I watch her affectionately, smiling every time I look over at her, even though she doesn't see me.

"You like Ed Sheeran?" I ask as she turns the volume down after the song is finished. I'm even more excited for Friday now.

"Actually, I'm not really a fan," she says.

Oh. 

Well, damn.

That's thrown a spanner in the works.

"Apart from this one," she says. "And the one he did with Rudimental. But I absolutely love the video to Thinking Out Loud, with the dancing. And the lyrics are beautiful."

OK, well that's two songs she'll enjoy on Friday. That's something.

"He wrote some songs for us," I say, after a moment.

"I know," she says immediately, and then flounders. "I mean... errr, did he?"

Of course she knew. What was I thinking?

"I suppose you know which ones?" I tease, and she reels them off without missing a beat.

"I'm sorry I'm such a loser," she sighs.

"Are you calling One Direction fans losers?" I ask, peeking at her sideways.

"No," she says hastily. "But not every fan ends up...." She stops dead. 

I wait.

Ends up what? 

"...getting this close to you," she finishes awkwardly.

My heart is in my mouth as I reach across and slip my hand in hers. 

I need to bring up the girlfriend subject. Now seems like a good opportunity, when she's talking like this.

I'm glad she feels close to me. I feel close to her, too.

I know we haven't been together - I mean seeing each other - for very long, but I already feel like I know her. 

I can tell when she's embarrassed. I can tell when she's nervous. I can tell when she's turned on, and when she wants me. I can tell when she's jealous, even though she won't admit it to me. Or herself.

I can tell which songs are her favourites.

"I can always tell which songs are your favourites," I say out loud, and she looks at me uncertainly.

"You always turn the volume up, and completely ignore me when there's a song on you like," I explain. "And you just sing along like you're in your own little world. Nothing else gets a look in until it's over, then you turn the volume down and you're back with us."

Her face flushes again, and I want to kiss her and tell her she doesn't have to be embarrassed about this. Or anything, in fact. I love that she can be herself around me. So few people are.

"Thank God you've never seen me at one of your concerts," she mutters.

"I will in June," I say, happily. "I can't wait."

"You won't be able to see me in a crowd of 80,000," she scoffs.

"I'll make sure I do," I reply. 

I can't wait to see how she reacts to me and the boys on stage. I feel like there is a whole area of her life that she keeps hidden from me - the One Direction fan. I will finally be able to see just how much of a fan she really is.

"Do you scream and stuff?" I ask.

"Do I scream?" she echoes, looking at me in disbelief, and I start to grin. I take it this is a yes. 

"At the first concert I screamed so loud I pulled a muscle in my shoulder," she says, and I can't stop a hysterical laugh escaping. 

I could almost warm my hands from the heat emanating from her face.

"I'll be more controlled now I know you'll be looking out for me," she says, and she almost looks like she believes it.

"You - controlled?" I snort.

"Alright," she mutters, and I think I've pushed her too far. She looks really embarrassed, and now I feel bad.

I stroke her hand gently. Fucking hell, her skin is so soft.

"I'm just teasing," I tell her. "Whereabouts are you in the crowd?"

"We're in the back half, standing, at Cardiff," she replies. "But we'll be getting there as early as possible to be close to the mini-stage." 

I nod, thinking. There's no way I want her blending into the crowd at the back. I'll get her front row VIP.

"I actually don't think I could cope if you made eye contact with me at your concert," she says, in a rush. "I'd probably pass out or something."

Wow, she's being very open today. I like it.

"We're making eye contact now," I flirt, smirking.

"Yes, and my stomach's doing somersaults," she says.

It's not just me, then.

"Really?" I smile.

Honestly, I can't believe she's admitting all this to me. I feel like any minute now she's going to laugh in my face or something. Or knock me down again, at the very least.

"Always," she says softly. "You have no idea." 

Oh my God. What is she saying? Is she trying to say she likes me? As in, really likes me?

"So tell me, then," I say, in the same gentle tone.

"Errrr, no," she says immediately.

"Why not?" I ask.

Come on Jess, just drop your guard again. What's the worst than can happen?

"Because... because... just no," she stammers.

My heart is hammering.

"Do you like me?" I ask shyly.

Please just say yes.

"No comment."

And there it is.

I stare at the road all the way back, glad I didn't say too much. That could have been so embarrassing. 

Why did she say she liked me the other day by the pool? I don't understand why she changes direction so fast, so to speak.

That's not even funny, and I'm definitely not laughing, and you should not be either.

......

"Do you mind if I get straight in the shower? I'm covered in sand and saltwater," Jess says, as soon as we get back.

"I was thinking the same thing," I smile. "Go ahead."

My hair is full of saltwater. I have sand in places it really shouldn't be. It's chafing and everything.

And Jess is in my shower. Right now. Naked. 

Fuck. 

Would it be intrusive if I joined her?

The thought of her soft, wet body pressed against me; her lips sliding over mine... 

I'm taking the stairs two at a time, pulling my tshirt over my head as I go. I strip off in the bedroom and walk into the ensuite. 

Jess has her back to me and is standing still under the shower, letting the water run over her body. The sight sends butterflies to my stomach.

"Room in there for two?" I ask, and it makes her jump. Not the best start.

I step into the shower and slip my arms around her waist. I kiss her softly and say, "Hi."

"Hi," she says, looking away and biting her lip.

I gently brush her wet hair over her shoulder.

"Don't go all shy on me now," I murmur.

She tries to put her head on my chest, still avoiding eye contact, but I hook my finger under her chin and gently tilt her head up, forcing her to look into my eyes. Her face is on fire, and I can feel her heart hammering against mine.

I love this effect I have on her, but at the same time I don't want her to feel uncomfortable around me. I want her to feel at home with me, like I do with her.

She jerks away and closes her eyes, tilting her head forward so the water pushes her hair over her face, hiding her from me. 

Fuck, it's too much isn't it. I've pushed her too far. I'm such an idiot.

"Are you ok?" I ask her quietly.

She clears her throat nervously. 

"Just having a Harry Styles moment," she says, in a sing-song voice. "Sorry."

A what? Oh God, I'm too afraid to ask what that is.

I can't stop myself chuckling, and I see an embarrassed smile breaking on her face. Her eyes are still closed.

"Do you have them often?" I ask, and eventually she lifts her head and makes eye contact with me.

"Less frequently than I used to," she says. "But sometimes I just forget where I am for a moment, and I look up and catch sight of you and I want to point and scream 'Oh my God it's Harry Styles!' and then I remember, duh, of course it is, you're in his house, who else would it be?"

OK, so a Harry Styles moment is where she reverts to being a fan again? I'm not sure I get it.

"I'm really sorry, I'm messing this up, aren't I?" she mutters.

"Messing what up?" I ask.

"This, everything, me and you," she stumbles. She's so nervous - I don't understand why. 

"I mean, whatever this is," she continues. "I mean, our relatio- friendship... I- I don't even know what I'm saying. It's the effect you have on me," she finishes, her face now puce.

Relationship? Is that what she was going to say? Right before she changed mid-word and fucking friendzoned me for the zillionth time this week.

I can't help thinking now is not the time to bring that up. 

"Do you want me to leave?" I ask, tucking her hair behind her ear.

I'll leave if she wants me to. I don't want to push my luck.

"I want you to kiss me," she whispers, looking up at me with those beautiful eyes.

Well I can't say no to that, can I?

I lean forward and kiss her, and she slides her arms up my torso and strokes my hair. Behind her is a bottle of shower gel on the tiled shelf. I reach for it as her lips move against mine, and as we kiss I squeeze some into my palms, and gently spread it over her shoulders and back, before running my hands down her sides.

Fuck, I'm rock hard. Story of my life.

I know she's felt it too when she break away from me and smiles. She takes the bottle and squeezes some onto my back, spreads it around with her fingers and then brings her soapy hands over my shoulders and down my chest to my waist. For a second I think she's going for my dick but instead she presses her breasts against my torso and I give a soft whimper of pleasure as her skin slides over mine. 

She smiles at me, and then pours some shampoo directly onto her head. I stroke it through her hair, running my fingers through it and creating a lather, and then pull her face to mine, kissing her roughly and pushing her back so she is pressed up against the tiles. She gasps against my lips and I thrust my hips against hers. My dick slips in between her legs and I breathe hard into her mouth. It's taking every ounce of willpower I possess not to thrust forward right now, even though I am dying to feel her again. I know the slightest movement will slip me inside her, and fuck, I want to do it. 

I'm panting from the effort it's taking to control myself.

She lifts her arms up and gathers some shampoo bubbles from her head and begins massaging them into my hair. It's such an intimate gesture, and I feel a rush of warmth in my heart for her. I've never had this level of intimacy with anyone before, and it feels incredible.

My lips are sliding over hers again and her tongue is warm and wet in my mouth. I am throbbing against her now, and I know if I don't break contact I am going to give in to temptation. And if I do that, I am pretty sure I will come straight away and I know that is a really, really bad idea.

I pull my hips away and step back under the shower head, taking Jess with me. She slides her hands down my back and squeezes my bum, pulling me against her again.

I need to get out of here and get a condom on before I lose control.

I pull her into the bedroom, both of us wrapped in the same towel, our bodies tangled and our kisses heating up. I grab a condom and sink into her, leaning over her and propping my myself up so I can look at her while I make love to her slowly.

What it is about this girl? What is it that makes me lose control like this?

.....

We come straight back up to bed after dinner to watch a film, and I pull her against my chest and stroke her still-damp hair as we snuggle together under the covers. She doesn't seem that interested in it, because I keep catching her looking at me, but she won't answer when I repeatedly aask her what she's looking at.

I let her have the remote once it's finished and she stretches out, taking up most of the bed and surfs the music channels, eventually stopping when she sees the video for Thinking Out Loud. She sings along softly, not taking her eyes off the screen the whole way through, and sighs softly at the end.

"I love that song."

Before I can reply she gasps, and I see the video for Night Changes has just started. I groan, and she rolls away from me onto her side to watch it. I snuggle up behind her and slip my arm around her waist, and I notice her arm is covered in goosebumps.

I rub it softly. "Are you cold?" I ask.

"No," she lies, and I pull her body back against mine. 

I consider getting up and adjusting the air conditioning when I notice she has goosebumps again, but instead pull the duvet higher so it covers her arms, but she pulls them out again.

"You are cold, aren't you?" I insist.

"I'm really not," she says uncomfortably.

Why is she lying? I'll just turn the temperature up a couple of degrees if she wants.

"I can see your arms!" I chuckle.

"Yeah... that's not because I'm cold," she mutters, and she clears her throat. She's nervous. Uh oh. What is it this time?

"It's the sound of your voice in this song," she says, shyly. "It gets me every time."

Oh my God. Is she for real? I lift my head to see if she's joking.

"Don't judge," she says, clearly embarrassed.

"Not judging," I laugh softly. "Just not sure if you're winding me up."

She rolls her eyes at me.

"I wish I was. Wait and see if you don't believe me."

What does she mean? She gets them every time she hears my voice? It hasn't happened before now.

I wait, watching her skin. As if on cue, my solo comes up and I see the little bumps break on her skin again. 

"Told you," she says quietly. "Go on, take the piss."

I can't believe my voice has this effect on her. I'm grinning like a fool.

"Aww, I'm not going to take the piss," I assure her, and kiss her shoulder.

"Why not?" she jokes. "I would if it were the other way round."

"What else don't I know?" I ask.

"Loads," she replies, and I'm not expecting that - I thought she'd deny it. "And most of it hopefully you will never find out," she says flatly.

"Like....?" I prompt, but she ignores me.

What else could there be? What wouldn't she want me to know?

The memory of the tweet she sent me the day after my birthday springs to mind, and I can't resist tormenting her.

"There's one thing we haven't talked about," I say, grinning, and she groans and closes her eyes. "Why were you a day late wishing me happy birthday?"

She groans louder as she realises I know about the tweet, and grabs the pillow from behind her head and drops it into her face. It makes me laugh, and I pull it off again, but she covers her face with her arms instead.

"Personally, I'm disappointed it wasn't sent on my birthday," I say, in a sad little voice. "Considering you supposedly had a crush on me for two years - your words, not mine."

It's a good thing she's not looking at me to see my grin.

"Fuck off, Harry," she says, and her words are muffled behind her arms. 

I laugh again - I'm really enjoying this.

"I wonder what you'd say if I was a day late wishing you a happy birthday," I say, twisting the knife, and she lifts her arms up and glares at me.

She's so sexy when she's cross.

"I didn't even know you on your birthday!" she scolds. "It was a Sunday so we weren't in work! That's why we did it the day after."

I stick my bottom lip out, sadly. 

"I just feel a bit let down," I tell her, and she whacks my arm furiously, causing me to laugh harder.

"I can't wait to find out something embarrassing about you and taunt you with it," she threatens.

"There is nothing," I grin.

"Yeah right," she snorts. "There's bound to be stuff on youtube of you before you were famous."

Oh fuck. Yes, there is. Change the subject, quick.

"Did you cry when Zayn left?" I tease, and she stumbles a little before replying, "I may have had a tear in my eye." 

I can't stop laughing. She's fucking amazing.

"But I cry at anything," she mutters. "I'm a loser. So don't read anything into that."

What does she mean, she cries at anything?

Why do girls do that?

"Like what?" I ask.

"Like this video." She points at the TV.

Wiz Khalifa - See You Again.

Aww, this is sad. I'll let her off this one.

"Aww, really?" I ask, affectionately, and she looks away, feeling around on the covers for the remote.

"Yep, so let's turn over."

"Ah, I like this. Leave it on," I tell her.

"You just want to see me cry," she sighs, and gets up from the bed and disappears into the bathroom.

I lay on my side, watching the video and humming along. When she comes back to bed and lays back down in my arms I hear her sniff discreetly. I pull her into a hug.

"Aww, baby," I murmur against her neck.

"I'm a loser," she says in a shaky voice, and my heart is pounding that she let me call her baby without throwing a sassy comment in my face. My confidence grows.

"You're not," I whisper. "You're amazing." 

She doesn't say anything, but flicks the TV off.

I kiss her shoulder, and press my face into the back of her neck, my body curved behind hers, spooning her.

Even though I can't physically get any closer to her right now, I somehow can't get close enough to her. I just can't get enough of her. 

I guess you could say the pedal's down, my eyes are closed.

No control.