(No Control - 54. Fool's Gold, second part)

We're filming our interview for The Late Late Show on Thursday, so I drive myself to the studio and meet the other boys in the green room.

"You look like shit," Louis says sympathetically as I sit down.

"Thanks," I mutter.

"No seriously," he says, taking the seat next to me and lowering his voice. "You look awful. Are you OK?"

"No," I say bluntly.

I've already filled them in on the details of yesterday morning's conversation between me and Jess. I can't face discussing it again.

"You wanna talk?" Niall asks across the room.

"No," I repeat, in the same tone, and they all nod and give me comforting smiles.

"What are you wearing for the interview?" Liam asks, and I grunt my response and indicate to my bag.

"I'll take those and get them prepared," one of the wardrobe assistants says, picking up my bag and carrying it out of the room, and I smile my thanks at her.

We meet some of the crew, and hang out with James, and I hate to admit it but I feel a bit better now I'm around people. It helps to take my mind off the ache in my chest.

My outfit arrives back, ironed and hung up, and I glance over it before turning to the assistant who took it away.

"Where's the necklace?" I ask.

She looks at me uncomprehendingly.

"The necklace, that was in my bag with my clothes," I explain. "Where is it?"

She frowns, and then picks up my bag and peers inside.

"Ohhh, this one?" she asks, pulling out Jess's pendant. "Sorry, I didn't see it."

"That's nice," Liam remarks as I slip it over my head.

"Jess bought it for me," I mutter, and across the room I see Louis looking up with interest.

"Ahh, that's sweet," Liam smiles.

The producer calls us, and we get up and make our way to the edge of the set, ready to appear on cue.

"Nice necklace," Louis murmurs as we line up.

I don't have time to react because the music starts and we enter the studio.

......

I monitor Jess's Facebook and Twitter over the next twenty-four hours, but nothing is happening. I didn't honestly expect it to. At the back of my mind is Grimmy's invitation to the Big Weekend next Saturday, and I am in two minds over what to do.

Knowing Jess is going to be there, probably with Grimmy, is making my heart ache. I want nothing more than to fly over there and sort things out, but I'm terrified of making a fool of myself again, like I did with Nadine.

I mean, I never flew several thousand miles in an attempt to get Nadine to take me back, but you know what I mean. The whole declaration of love was an episode I'd rather forget. I'm not going to start throwing that term around in front of Jess, obviously, because things aren't at that stage yet, but I'm scared of making a grand gesture and her turning me down publicly. I don't think my heart could take that level of rejection again, especially not from Jess.

I don't know if she's still aware of what I'm up to these days - she still follows me on Twitter, and we're friends on Facebook, so I'd like to think she's looking at my profiles the same way I'm looking at hers, but I have no way of finding out.

We're attending the Billboard Music Awards on Sunday, the same day as the fan-organised No Control Project, and I wake up to see she has tweeted about it.

It's only brief - @jessie_braddy: Happy #NoControlDay! #NoControl #ProjectNoControl

But I take it as a good sign that she hasn't renounced all allegiance to the band, and suddenly I am blinded by a moment of clarity: I have to fight for this girl. I'm an idiot if I let her slip through my fingers for good.

I drop Grimmy a text, telling him we're on for next weekend, and then decide I will not be attending tonight's afterparty. Taylor Swift will be there, and I don't want to be in the same room as her for longer than I have to be, purely to make a statement to Jess that nothing is going on there.

I call Jeff and ask if I can fly back to LA with him and Glenne on his private jet, to which he agrees, and then I call Angela at Modest and let her know of my amended arrangements. I tell her I am flying back to the UK earlier than planned to attend Radio One's Big Weekend, and ask her to make the necessary changes to my schedule.

Next is a call to Karen to ask her to tip off the paps that I will be flying back to LA on the Azoffs' jet, so the public (Jess) can be in no doubt of my whereabouts.

I'm feeling positive that I'm taking charge of this again and decide against telling Jess I'm coming home. I want to surprise her, and although in public might not be the best place to do it, it's sort of romantic, isn't it? Don't girls appreciate these sorts of gestures? I hope so, or this could go horribly wrong.

I text Gemma and invite her and some friends along, and then call Mum to let her know I'll be coming home, and to make my bed up. She's almost in tears with happiness, especially when I tell her I'm coming to sort things out with Jess, and by the time we arrive in Las Vegas for the BBMAs I am feeling good.

It's a fun night, but I leave the others to party as soon as it's over, and fly straight back home as planned with Jeff and Glenne. I take my time boarding the jet, letting the paps get some good shots of me, and the following morning I head out for breakfast at BLD, making sure to linger long enough to get pictured leaving with a takeaway coffee. I mean, if I can't use the paps to my advantage once in a while it's a poor do.

When I arrive back home, Karen calls me. I realise with unease it's nighttime back home, and answer the phone with trepidation.

"Hi, Harry," she sighs. "I've got an update for you on the Joy Muggli situation."

"Is she still around?" I snap, more irritably than I intend to. "Sorry," I apologise hastily. "Didn't mean to snap."

"It's fine," she replies. "Her mother has given an interview to an undisclosed source - in other words, Heat Magazine - saying she met you at Jeff Azoff's party last year, and you've also met through Dan Richards. And her mother says she isn't even a fan of One Direction."

I'm so furious I can't even find this funny.

"Can you ask Simon to release another statement please?" I ask, hearing the tremor in my voice. "And can you get a solicitor on this asap - I don't care what it costs. I want these rumours shut down immediately, and I want a retraction from Heat."

"On it," Karen replies briskly. "I'll try and get the story stopped before it goes to print, but failing that I'll consult the legal team."

"Thanks," I say gratefully.

As much as Karen can string me up by my bollocks when I've pissed her off, she's certainly a good person to have on side at times like these. And I know she makes it her life goal to protect our public image. Which isn't always a good thing, but you have to take the rough with the smooth.

........

The story goes to print the following day, and Simon Jones tweets the denial from his verified Twitter account a couple of hours later. I hope that if Jess reads this article, she also reads the statement from Simon. I don't call her because I feel to give this story any form of acknowledgement would be to indicate I have entertained it for more than five seconds. And she berated me for never sticking up for her publicly, and I have now done what she wanted twice in one week. I think that says enough, without me whining down the phone to her about it, which will only end in an argument.

I spend Tuesday afternoon jamming with Louis, John (Ryan) and Julian (Bunetta) in Westlake. I'm feeling in a better place with everything, and play Perfect for them.

"I love it. It's release material," Julian says immediately. "Please, please can we work with this?"

"Sure," I shrug, and John begins singing it, strumming along with his guitar.

"You know what, it sort of reminds me of Style, by Taylor Swift," Louis muses, his fingers tapping his chin thoughtfully, and I grin at him. "Fuck off - is it supposed to?" he yelps.

"It wasn't supposed to, but this whole mess started off because of those stupid fucking rumours about me and her, so I started singing the chorus to that beat, and it sort of evolved from there," I tell them.

"It's genius!" Louis breathes, and John chuckles.

We play about with it for a bit, adding some lyrics here and there but something isn't sitting quite right with it so we all agree to put it on the backburner for a while and revisit it at a later date. We don't get much else accomplished that day, and I return to the studio on Wednesday with just John and Julian, and we order food, mess about, and try and get some inspiration, but it's just not happening.

It's late in the day, and we're all wanting to head off, but no one wants to be the first one to leave. I scroll through my camera roll, staring at pictures of Jess, and beat my knee with my hand, singing stupidly, "I live for you, I long for you, oh Jessica... Don't let me gooooooo."

Julian snaps his head up. "What was that?" he asks, and I look up from my phone to see him and John staring at me with wide eyes.

"What?" I ask confused. "I was just messing about."

"Sing it again," John instructs, so I conduct an imaginary orchestra, put on a silly voice and repeat the words I've just sung, and to my surprise he joins in with his guitar and strums a catchy chord progression along with me.

Julian is grinning at us both, and I feel myself smiling back. "I like it," I nod, and Julian picks his guitar up too.

"I've dreaming about the light in your eyes, oh Jessica," I add.

"Idolising," John says immediately. "Idolising the light in your eyes. The 'I' sounds work better when sung quickly together."

We try it out again, and he's right. This is why he's a professional songwriter.

Julian quickly works out a pattern on his guitar for a verse, and I close my eyes and think of Jess, and what we have been through lately that could inspire more lyrics.

"Remember the day you were giving up," (the day she broke up with me) "and I said that you didn't care enough," I sing, (the same phone conversation) "and all of your friends were saying I'd be leaving you," (when she rang me the night she was with Grimmy, and her friend was trying to set her up with someone else because she didn't trust me.)

"Keep going," Julian urges, strumming along.

"You're lying in my bed with my t-shirt on," I sing, squeezing my eyes shut and thinking of Jess wearing my Rolling Stones t-shirt, "um, nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh," (I'm momentarily stuck, but try and keep in rhythm with Julian's guitar), "This isn't the stain of red wine - I'm bleeding love."

"Genius!" John beams, and Julian stops playing abruptly.

We stare at each other for a few seconds before John sings, "I love you, I love you, I love you, oh Jessica."

I can't deny these words fit perfectly with the song so far, even if they're not true.

We compose the second verse together, based on the last couple of weeks of my life:

"Say what you're feeling and say it now," (She wouldn't open up to me for ages) "Cos I got the feeling you're walking out," (not only did she walk out on me at LAX, she figuratively walked out on our relationship when she dumped me the other day) "and time is irrelevant when I've not been seeing you," (I've drifted through these last two weeks without her, barely knowing what day it is.)

"The consequences of falling out," (I'm realising just what my life is like without her - empty and cold) "There's something I've been having nightmares about," (I haven't stopped dreaming about her since I met her) "And these are the reasons I'm crying out to be with you," (I'm trying NOT to think about crying down the phone to her, but unfortunately that's what happens when you let your guard down and show your heart to someone, even if it is for their eyes only.)

We run through the bridge again, and we all agree it needs another line, so we add in, "Please believe me, don't you see the things you mean to me?" (Because she never believes me, about anything, and I thought it was obvious from the way I act around her, how I feel about her.)

"I absolutely love this," Julian says softly, and John nods in agreement. "I just want to fine-tune some of the lyrics, particularly the first verse. It doesn't roll off the tongue easily."

We spend an hour reworking the first verse, changing words here and there, but John looks unconvinced.

"I hate to say it, H, but I'm not a fan of the name 'Jessica,'" he says. "I don't think it blends with the other lyrics. And be honest - do you want to name this song after your ex-girlfriend?"

"It's about her anyway," I shrug. "It doesn't really matter what name we use. And now you mention it, she always struggled with the spotlight. She won't be happy if I blow her cover and confirm we were an item without her consent."

"When we wrote 'Diana' with Louis and Liam, it was originally 'Joanna' but Louis thought it was too similar to his mum's name, so we changed it after it was finished," Julian reminds us.

We sit in silence for a minute, all thinking. I hum the chorus in my head, trying to think of a name that would fit. "I love you, I love you, I love.... I love... I love...," I repeat, racking my brains, "Olivia!" I eventually say triumphantly.

"That's it!" John says, his eyes gleaming. "And the way you sang it then, with the I loves really fast... let's change the bridge to that instead!" He picks up his guitar again. "Please believe me, don't you see the things you mean to me? Oh I love you, I love you, I love I love I love Olivia!"

"That's fucking awesome," I agree, and join in with the chorus. "I live for you, I long for you, Olivia..."

We record a rough run-through so we've got one version laid down so we don't forget it, and I grin to myself as something comes to mind. "Gemma's going to love it," I tell them. "She's getting a kitten in a few weeks and she's already decided on a name - Olivia Pope. And at least when the fans ask who the song is about I can say it's dedicated to Gemma's new pet."

"Brilliant," John grins, and we agree he will add this song to the list of tracks he needs to record for us all to listen to, as a shortlist for the new album. We leave the studio later than planned, but satisfied we've had a productive day.

......

I ring Mum as I board the private jet (it's the one with the squeaky seat that Louis hates) late on Thursday afternoon, and let her know I'm on my way and will spend Friday night at my house in Hampstead before heading over to Norwich on Saturday morning to meet Gemma and her friends there for the Big Weekend.

"If all goes well, will we get to meet this Jess that I keep hearing about?" Mum asks.

"Hopefully," I sigh. "If I can convince her to talk to me and work things out. I'd like to bring her with me to see you."

"You know she's welcome, love," she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

I get a couple of hours' sleep on the flight, and have this horrendous dream that I arrive at the Big Weekend only to find Taylor Swift is performing on the Saturday instead of the Sunday, and Jess bumps into us backstage and storms off in a huff because she sees me holding Taylor's hand (quite why I am holding Taylor's hand in this dream is unclear.) I jolt awake to the sound of the pilot announcing our descent into Heathrow, sweating all over. I pull myself together and prepare for landing, and the first thing I do when I arrive back at my house is have a long hot shower, and then collapse into bed, even though it is only teatime.

I'm wide awake at half past six the following morning, and after half an hour of staring at the ceiling with nervous butterflies taking over my stomach, I haul myself out of bed and repack some clean clothes for the visit to Norwich and Mum's. I don't intend on staying in Norwich tonight. I'm driving, so once I've seen Jess I'm hoping we can sort things out and she'll come to Holmes Chapel with me.

I'm not sure what her plans are, but for all I know she could be less than a mile away from me right now in Belsize Park. The temptation to drive round to her flat is overwhelming, but instead I focus on deciding what to wear today. Security arrive at nine o'clock, and follow me all the way to Norwich. I park in the VIP car park, and Dale and Steve accompany me through the VIP entrance and into the backstage area.

My stomach is in knots as I nervously scan the room for a glimpse of Jess, but after a couple of minutes I give up, and text Grimmy and Gemma to let them both know I have arrived.

"Why are you texting me when you're standing two feet away from me, you loser?" I hear a sarcastic voice say derisively, and I turn round, grinning, and fling my arms around Gemma, almost knocking her off her feet.

"Missed you," I murmur into her hair, and she squeezes me tight.

"Missed you too," she murmurs back.

"Harreh!" I hear another voice shout, and I release Gemma to give Grimmy a hug. "Long time no see," he grins. "Have you found Jess yet?"

"No, but I haven't had a proper look," I admit. "I don't know whether to text her, or call her, or just seek her out."

"Seek her out?" he repeats. "Where are you, with that phrase? The 1800s?"

"Fuck off," I smile, while Gemma cracks up laughing. "Have you had any food yet? I'm starving."

"The hospitality tent is just over there," he points. "Come and find me when you've eaten and we can catch up properly."

Gemma and I head over to where he indicated and fill our plates, and Gemma asks me for the full low-down on Jess. I tell her everything, from the misunderstanding about Taylor Swift, to my jealousy over how Jess flirts with (and slays) Louis, to the latest fiasco over this Joy Muggli girl ("She sounds like something out of Harry Potter," Gemma says, with a wrinkle of her nose.)

I hear Ellie Goulding playing her set, and Gemma and I head to the side of the tent to peer out at the main stage. I spend almost the entire set scanning every face in the crowd for Jess, until suddenly my heart gives a leap as I spot her, fifty feet away, at the back. She's standing with Gary, the blonde guy she kissed a couple of months ago from her office, and they're dancing along to the music. I watch them for a few minutes, before pointing her out to Gemma, who murmurs her approval and says she's pretty.

Ellie introduces Love Me Like You Do, and I feel a wave of sadness as the song begins. It represents everything I had with Jess, and everything I have now lost. I look over at her again, and my stomach twists as I can see, even from this distance, that she is crying. I watch, my heart beginning to pound, as Gary puts his arms around her and comforts her, holding her tightly like I should be doing. If he kisses her, I really don't know what I will do. Seeing pictures of her kissing him was bad enough, but if I saw it in the flesh, I think my heart might actually break. I don't know why she affects me like this, but I can't stop it. I am completely under her spell. It's actually pathetic.

My thoughts are interrupted by a text from Grimmy.

Saw Jess's mates before, I told them to come backstage. Get your arse back here. You still owe me a blowie from last time.

This makes me laugh, and by the time I look up again, Jess and Gary have disappeared.

"You wanna go and mingle?" I ask Gemma, and she nods in agreement, so we head back over to the VIP section where I can see Grimmy standing with Greg James and Alice Levine, and some of the Radio One production crew. I introduce myself to the people I don't recognise, and we move across the grass out of the way of the exit to chat. Someone makes a comment about how alike Gemma and I look, and we pull silly faces at each other and laugh.

"Gemma is the better Styles," Gemma jokes, and I give her a gentle shove in mock annoyance.

"By deduction, it's obvious she got the brains in the family," I tease back, and she folds her arms and huffs. I sling my arm around her neck and when she isn't expecting it, I plant a wet sloppy kiss on her cheek.

"You are a disgusting human being," she says, pulling away from me to wipe it off with disdain.

"Harry!" Grimmy leans forward to whisper in my ear. "I don't want to alarm you, but Jess is standing behind you, looking over at you."

FUCK.

My stomach literally does some sort of weird backflippy squeeze, and I let go of Gemma's shoulders and turn to look in the direction Grimmy is staring.

Damn, this isn't how I imagined this to happen. I wanted to be the one to see her first, so I could approach her casually, in my own time, with a well thought out witty remark.

When I catch sight of her my stomach lurches again, but she isn't looking at me; she's standing really close to Gary, and she's leaning towards him.

I don't like the way this looks. She's leaning closer. What the fuck is going on?

And before I can even open my mouth to call her name to get her attention away from him, she has closed her eyes and pressed those incredibly soft lips against his.

I am frozen to the spot, pain and misery flooding my entire body, and the colour draining from my face.

Jess pulls away and turns her head to look at me, and in the moment our eyes connect I understand what she is doing. She chose this moment to kiss him, knowing I would see; flaunting it in my face.

The times I hurt her were never intentional. It was just my inconvenient, unfortunate fucking life getting in the way of our relationship. But what she has just done.... that was cold and calculated, and intended to hurt.

Beside me I feel Gemma turn around and I see Jess's gaze shift from me to her. Her face drops, and her eyes widen.

I'm so fucking angry. I want to scream and yell at her, but all I can do in that second is stare miserably at this girl, who has just broken my heart for the third time in two weeks.