(No Control - 64. Fireproof, first part)

I wake up to Jess lying on her back grinning at the ceiling.

"What are you smiling at?" I ask sleepily.

"I'm just happy," she says, turning to look at me. "You make me happy."

She comes to lay in my arms and we discuss our plans for the day. She is working, I'm seeing Grimmy, and I'll drop her off at work on the way.

"We've only got a couple of weeks before I'm back on tour again," I say, with a trace of sadness in my voice. "I want to see you as much as possible. If you want to."

"Of course I do," she says, and her tone matches mine.

"I'll be home between shows, at least during the European leg," I assure her, looking into her eyes. "I won't be able to come home much while we're touring the States, though."

"I know. I'm going to miss you," she pouts, and my heart misses a beat.

"I'll miss you too," I whisper.

She kisses my chest softly and we lie together in silence, her fingers softly stroking my chest and my fingers twirling her hair. I'm going to miss this so much on tour. Just being able to wake up next to her, and drop her off at work.

My mind wanders to the impending tour, and I start stressing about how we will cope permanently without Zayn. I want to talk to someone about it, but I don't want to burden her with all of this.

Fuck it. Yes I do.

"Sometimes I get so scared that this will all come crashing down without any warning," I begin.

"What will?" she asks softly.

"The band. One Direction," I clarify, and the flood gates open. "I don't think anyone expected us to be this popular, or this successful. Even now I still feel like one day I'll wake up and the world will have moved on to something else, someone else. Something more exciting. People are so fickle, Jess. Our fans are the most loyal fans in the world but eventually they will get bored of us and move on to another band. That's just life, it's how these things work. And then what? I don't know how I will ever have a normal life. I don't know what I will do if one day all this just disappears."

I snap my mouth shut, feeling embarrassed and shy.

"I don't think it will ever disappear for you... for any of you, really," she replies after a moment. "You are so famous, Harry. Everyone loves you; you can do no wrong. Even if One Direction comes to an end you will not be short of offers, believe me. Every entertainment company in the world will want to snap you up. You have the Midas touch."

"I'm not ready for One Direction to come to an end," I confess, and I can't meet her eyes. I have never admitted these fears to anyone, not even my mum yet.

"Why would it?" Jess asks.

I pause, organising my thoughts.

"I'm scared how it will be, just the four of us," I tell her. "We muddled through on the last leg of the tour after Zayn left so suddenly, but this leg will be different. Everything's being reworked to run smoothly without him. What if we're not as appealing as a four-piece? What if this is the beginning of the end?"

"It isn't," she says, adamantly, and she cups my face in her slender hands and forces me to look at her.

"You don't know that," I mutter.

"I know the strength of your fan base, because I am part of it," she reminds me. "Look at Project No Control. Look at hashtag Oh No Niall, or Tomlinson Slays Again," she continues. "Your fans can make things happen for you at a touch of a button, they send things viral. And they are showing no signs of wavering loyalty, believe me."

"I hope you're right," I sigh.

"Of course I am - I can't believe you would be so worried about this," she says gently, stroking my collarbone. That's making my dick tingle.

"I just feel like we can't take another blow," I murmur, thinking aloud. "I feel like Zayn leaving has weakened us. What if one of the others wants to leave?"

"Why would they?" she reasons.

"I dunno," I shrug. "Zayn did. We wouldn't be able to continue if someone else left."

"Has anyone given an indication they might want to leave?" she asks.

"No," I admit.

"See?" she smiles, nudging me. "That's because they all know what a great thing you have going on. They'd be crazy to leave the band at the height of your popularity."

I don't know if it's what she's said, or just her unwavering support and loyalty towards me, but I do feel a bit better for sharing this stuff. I feel better just for having talked to someone about it.

I make a mental note to share my worries with her more often. She just gets me.

"Sorry," I murmur. "I didn't mean to get all heavy. Thanks for listening."

"Don't apologise," she whispers, and her breath tickles the skin of my chest, leaving goosebumps. "I'm glad you talked to me. It's what I'm here for."

"Got time for a quickie?" I ask huskily as her alarm sounds.

"Always," she nods.

"Get on top of me then."

She grabs a condom and as I roll it on, she says, "We need some more of these."

"Or..," I begin, and then stop myself. I don't want to make her feel uncomfortable. But she looks at me questioningly so I mutter, "Or you could go on the pill?"

"If you want me to," she says, thoughtfully.

"I just thought maybe it might be easier than relying on condoms all the time," I fib.

That's not the reason. The reason is because I need to feel her again properly, without the risk element. I haven't stopped obsessing about it since it first happened.

"It's fine with me," she smiles.

"And I can't stop thinking about the time in the pool," I say quickly.

At least I'm being honest with her.

"What do you mean?" she asks.

"In LA - it was incredible...," I reply, shyly. "I could feel you... I want to do that again."

"OK," she says, with a look of pure love and understanding. "I'll see my doctor."

"Only if it's what you want," I insist. "I don't want to pressure you into it."

"You're not," she says firmly, and I want to tell her, there and then, that I love her and I'm crazy about her and I don't ever want to be apart from her, but if I say it now will just seem like I'm saying it for all the wrong reasons, and I don't want her to doubt me in any way.

I pull her down to me and kiss her, and gently cup her breasts with my hands as she grinds her hips against my rock-hard boner. She lifts up and slips me inside her and I moan with every stroke as she rides me hard and fast, both of us coming in about two minutes.

.....

We end up rushing because the morning sex has made us late, and as we sit in the car in the rush-hour traffic we discuss speaking to Modest about going public.

I'm surprised when Jess admits she's looking forward to everyone knowing about us.

"So you're not scared anymore?" I ask, turning my head to look at her.

"Are you joking? I'm terrified!" she replies. "But... but you're worth it."

My heart leaps as she says this. Nobody can ever comprehend the importance of these words. I know I'm not the most appealing of boyfriends, with my entourage of photographers and fans trailing behind me wherever I go, and my gruelling work schedule that takes me all around the world for most of the year. So to hear that I am worth all the hassle that comes with being my girlfriend is more than just a relief. It makes my day. My year.

"Thank you for saying that," I say shyly. "I don't think you will ever understand how much that means to me."

She grabs my little finger with hers, and I lean over to kiss her as we wait at some traffic lights.

"Have you spoken to your friend Gary?" I ask, a few minutes later.

I can't help worrying this guy is a bit of a threat as he is friends with Jess, and will always be waiting in the wings to console her when I'm not around.

"No," she says softly, looking away out of the window, her cheeks turning pink. "Not since... it happened. We parted on alright terms but it will still be awkward at first."

"Has he ever asked you out before?" I ask.

I mean, I have no chill anyway. I might as well get these questions out of the way now.

"No, he'd always been with his girlfriend," she supplies. "They only split up recently, and then we kissed, before you and I properly got together, but I didn't think it meant anything to either of us. It was just a stupid drunken impulse."

I hate the thought of her kissing someone else. I hate the thought of her wanting anyone else other than me, drunk or not. And now this guy is single and hangs out with my girlfriend every day.

I wonder if she would have ended up with him if I hadn't been on the scene. I wonder if she would have slept with him. Although, she said she doesn't do one night stands, so maybe not. I wonder how many boyfriends she's had. I probably shouldn't ask that right now, when she's about to get out of the car and the answer will only torture me for the rest of the day until I can hold her in my arms again.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" I blurt.

For fuck's sake.

"Oh God," she moans, closing her eyes. "Do you have to?"

Her reaction is so dramatic and funny it makes me laugh.

"I don't have to, no," I chuckle.

"No, go on, what is it?" she agrees in a resigned tone.

Why am I even doing this?

"How many people have you slept with?"

"Four," she replies.

I almost crash the car.

"Four before me?" I clarify.

"No, four including you."

"Really?" I can't keep the surprise out of my voice.

"I don't know why you sound surprised," she says, turning to look at me. "I told you I don't sleep around, I don't do one night stands and I don't do fuck buddies."

Yeah but seriously, four? I feel fucking honoured that she deemed me worthy.

"So they were all relationships?" I ask.

"Yes."

"Wow," I say, impressed.

I knew she was fucking innocent. But oh my God, I can't believe she's this pure. She's a diamond.

I hate the idea she had feelings for three other guys before me, though. I know that is stupid and hypocritical and irrational, but I am stupidly in love, remember?

I smile to myself, looking out of the front window as we crawl along the road to her office.

I know she's going to ask me the same thing, and after her answer I'm ashamed to tell her mine. I mean, it's nowhere near as high as people think, but it's higher than four. A lot higher. Several times higher.

I wait.

We sit in silence.

"Don't you want to ask me the same thing?" I prompt.

"I'm too afraid of the answer," she says immediately.

She shouldn't believe everything she reads.

"You shouldn't be," I reply. "You might be surprised as well."

"Hardly," she mutters. "It's not going to be four, is it?"

Fair point.

"Well, no, but I get the impression everyone thinks it's in the hundreds or something."

"Isn't it?" she asks quickly.

"Nope," I say, with a single shake of my head. "Not even close."

"Really?" she says, with the exact same tone I used when she told me hers, and I murmur my assent.

She's quiet for a moment, and the suspense is killing me. I just want to tell her now, and get it over with.

"Aren't you going to ask?" I persist.

"Do you want me to?" she sighs.

Why doesn't she want to know? Doesn't she care? I don't want her to ask if she really doesn't want to know. For fuck's sake, why do I overthink everything?

"Only if you want to," I reply, and smirk at how ridiculous we sound.

"Fine," she says, shortly. "Harry?"

"Mmm?" I respond, and my mischievous side is taking over now.

"How many people have you slept with?"

I let my mouth fall open as she looks at me, and pretend to be offended.

"That's a very personal question," I remark. "I'm not sure I feel comfortable answering it."

"You are such a bell!" she huffs indignantly, and smacks my leg in annoyance. She looks so put out I laugh hysterically at her expression, and pull over opposite Costa so she can get her Gingerbread latte.

She opens the door and jumps out onto the pavement.

"Say hi to Grimmy for me," she says, and shuts the door behind her, rolling her eyes tolerantly at me because I am still laughing at my own joke.

I press the button and wind the window down as she turns away.

"Hey!" I call. "No kiss?"

"Definitely not, after that stunt you just pulled," she sasses, but she's grinning as she starts to walk off.

I'm not letting her leave without assuring her I'm not a man-whore.

"Jess!" I call after her, and she turns round again, looking so incredibly beautiful it gives me butterflies.

I shout my number through the open window, and am rewarded by her eyebrows raising up under her fringe in shock.

"Seriously?" she says in disbelief, and I nod, smiling. She nods back, before darting across the road and disappearing into Costa, and I indicate and pull back out onto the road in the direction of the Radio 1 studio. No one knows I will be there today, so I should be able to slip in unnoticed, aside from the paps.

I check my texts as I'm sitting at some traffic lights and see Jeff has texted me asking about going for a night out in New York for his friend's birthday on 11th June. If my memory serves me correctly, we play Vienna on 10th and Brussels on 13th, so I may just be able to make it.

I call Angela at Modest.

"Good morning, cherub!" she chirps.

"Morning," I reply. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine darling, how are you?" she asks.

"All the better for speaking to you," I smile, and she coos in delight.

"You are such a charmer, young Harry," she chides me, but I know she loves it. "What can I do for you this morning?"

"Could you check my schedule for the 11th and 12th of June please?" I ask. "I'd like to take the jet over to New York in between the Vienna and Brussels shows, if there's nothing in my diary."

"Yep, you're completely clear," she confirms.

"Great. Can you book me in for the night of the 11th at the Ludlow Hotel please?" (Jeff and his mates are already booked in, according to his text.)

"Will do," she nods. "Any preferences for your team?"

She's asking me which security guards I want with me.

"I don't mind. Whoever wants to come," I reply.

"It'll be a tight turnaround," she warns. "It's a long way to go for just one night..."

"Yeah, I know, but I can sleep on the plane," I assure her. "It sounds like a lot of people are going, and I don't really want to miss it."

"OK," she sings, cheerfully. "I'll make the necessary arrangements and drop the itinerary over to you on an email."

"Great, thank you," I smile. "Can you also arrange for security to meet me at Yalding House in about an hour? I'm doing Call or Delete with Nick Grimshaw this morning, and I'll need a couple of guards on the way out, I reckon, once people realise I'm there."

I cringe at how this sounds, like I am some kind of stuck-up megastar who can't go anywhere without a team of people. But it's not out of choice. Once the fans learn I'm at Radio 1 I'll be mobbed.

She confirms this, and I thank her, and then ask her to transfer me through to Karen, but she informs me Karen is in a meeting so I leave a message for her to call me back.

I arrive at the BBC and get papped on the way in, as I expected, and wait outside Nick's studio with a couple of the production team until there is a suitable pause to let me inside.

As he starts to play some Little Mix he gives us the nod and I am ushered inside and hooked up to the mic adjacent to Grimmy.

"How are things, man?" he grins while we wait for the song to play out. "You look like the cat that got the cream."

"I sort of did," I smirk, and he pulls a face.

"OK, too much information," he winces. "You sorted things out with Jess, then?"

"Yeah, we spent the weekend at my mum's," I nod, unable to keep the grin off my face, and he gives a low whistle.

"Meeting the parents, hey?" he remarks, with raised eyebrows. "Must be serious."

I hesitate, wanting to gush about how great she is, but I don't want to get ribbed. Unfortunately, he knows me too well.

"Uh oh," he teases. "What's the deal? Spill."

"Nothing," I grin.

"Liar," he calls me out.

"I love her," I mutter.

"Woah, nice one!" he beams, and gives me a high five. "She loves you too, yeah?"

"I dunno, I haven't told her yet," I admit, and he looks at me with a look of disbelief that is so characteristically Grimmy.

"Why the fuck are you telling me then?!" he demands.

"You fucking asked," I remind him.

"Loser," he declares, and then catches the eye of producer Vic and gives a quick nod. "OK, you ready to do Call or Delete?" he says. "We're gonna broadcast live."

"Yeah, cool," I agree, and pull both my phones out and put them on the desk in front of me.

"I'll do a quick intro, and then we'll jump straight in," he advises. "Any no-nos?"

"No Zayn," I tell him, and he nods and turns back to his controls and fiddles around for a couple of seconds as the Little Mix track plays out the last chorus.

"That was the new release from Little Mix, "Black Magic," on Radio One's Breakfast Show with me, Nick Grimshaw," he says smoothly. "Now, I have someone here beside me who hasn't been in to the Radio One studio for quite some time, as he is in the middle of a sold out world tour. However, he's taken some time out this morning to come in and see us, and we're gonna play a quick game of Call or Delete... I'm talking about the one, the only... Harry Styles from One Direction!"

He applauds loudly, and the production team clap and cheer. I give an embarrassed smile. It always feels weird when Grimmy interviews me like this, as we're friends.

"Morning," I say into the mic.

"We're really excited to have you here," Nick says, speaking into his mic but looking sideways at me. "How's the tour going?"

We discuss the tour so far, and laugh about Grimmy's rap at the Big Weekend, before getting down to Call or Delete.

"So which phone are we using?" he asks. "Work or personal?"

"Um, personal," I say. I don't fancy having to wind Karen up, somehow.

"OK, so you know the rules," Grimmy says. "We scroll through your contacts and when you say stop, whoever it lands on you either have to prank call, or delete their number altogether. You ready?"

"Yep," I nod, and I unlock my phone and open my contacts. I slide it over to Grimmy, and he starts at the As.

"OK, scrolling now," he says. "No peeking. Just tell me when to stop."

"Stop!" I say, after a couple of seconds.

He gives a chuckle.

"Well well well," he says. "It's none other than our mutual friend Jess."

My face drops and I stare at Grimmy in horror, but he gives me a wicked grin.

"Remember the rules," he reminds me. "We either call her now, or you delete her number."

I have to think quickly. No one ever deletes a number on this show. If I do it, it will send the fans into a frenzy. There will be conspiracy theories all over Twitter in seconds, speculating about what I am hiding.

"I guess we're calling her," I say, trying not to let my tone give away my reluctance.

I hope this doesn't go horribly wrong. But I trust Jess, and I know whatever I throw at her, she's got my back.

Wish me luck.

----****----

This chapter has a lot of stuff going on from Harry's point of view, so I had to break it here. I'll post the next part tomorrow, maybe at lunchtime if I have time to proofread it :)