(No Control - 73. 18)

"No," she says, and her voice sounds high pitched and strange. "No, you wouldn't. You wouldn't do that to me."

Still, even after me admitting the truth, she can't believe it of me. I can't believe it of myself, either. I'm crying harder now, not even attempting to hide it.

"I'm so sorry," I tell her again.

"Stop saying that!" she hisses. "What happened?"

Good question. What did fucking happen? I wish I knew.

"I... I don't really remember much...," I begin.

"Well fucking try!" she screams, making me jump.

"She just came back to my hotel," I mutter quickly, "after we'd left the bar. I didn't plan it, I swear. I was drunk.. so drunk, Jess.. I couldn't even walk straight... I didn't know what I was doing."

I know I probably sound like I'm rambling, but I can't think straight. I daren't tell her about the Speed. She'll be even more disgusted.

"You managed to have sex, so you can't have been that confused," she reminds me.

"I'm so sorry..," I say, miserably. "I wish I could go back and change it. When I woke up, I felt sick. When I realised what I'd done... to you, to us..."

Another sob rises in my throat and I break off, trying to control my voice. I have no right to be crying over this, but I can't help it. I may have been the one who ruined everything but that doesn't mean I am hurting any less than she is.

"I can't believe this, Harry. I can't believe you would do this."

I can hear the tears in her voice. She sounds genuinely heartbroken, and knowing I have caused her this pain makes me feel even worse. I muffle my sobs in the crook of my arm and take a deep breath.

"How many others have there been?" she asks, suddenly.

I honestly didn't see that one coming. How could she think that of me?

Don't answer that.

"None, I swear to you!" I insist. "I have never been unfaithful to you before. I've never been unfaithful to anyone."

"But you made an exception for me," she snipes. "Thanks."

I didn't mean it like that, she's getting it all wrong.

"No, I.... don't say it like that.."

"Why not?" she shouts. "It's the truth. It shows how much you think of me."

"I think the world of you," I tell her, my voice wobbling again, but I know she doesn't believe me. The damage is done; I've broken her trust and she will never forgive me.

"Oh please!" she yells. "Don't you dare insult me with shit like that. This whole thing was just a game to you, wasn't it? Being charming and wonderful and making me fall in love with you... and the minute I admit it, you drop me like a hot potato for the type of girl you really want."

Her words rip through my heart and drop into my stomach like lead bullets. I can't believe she would think so little of herself. How could she think any of this was a game?

"No!" I plead. "Baby, of course this wasn't a game, and I don't want anyone else."

"Don't... call... me... Baby..." she spits. "And you can't say you don't want anyone else, because you did and you had her!"

I can't argue with that. Nothing I can say can excuse what I have done.

"I'm so sorry," I offer again. I wish I could stop crying, or at least do it silently. I'm worse than useless at the moment, and she doesn't need my own self-pity on top of everything else I've just presented to her.

"It's fine," she says, in a voice that is far from fine. "It's my own fault, I never should have got involved with you. I knew, deep down, I would never be enough for you. I should have walked away, but I let you flatter me into thinking I might just be what you wanted."

"Jess -" I begin, but she talks over me.

"I've been such an idiot," she says with a bitter laugh. "I actually thought you cared. I actually believed you when you said..."

Her voice wobbles and a new wave of emotion hits me.

I know what she was about to say. I actually believed you when you said you loved me.

I do love her. I've never loved anyone like I love her.

"I love you," I whisper, but I know she won't believe me.

"No, you don't," she says, and she is crying again. "If you did, you wouldn't have had sex with someone else. You would have been able to say no, no matter how pretty she was, how thin, how funny. If you loved me, you wouldn't have looked twice at her, and that's what hurts the most. I do love you, but you don't love me back. You didn't care enough about me to say no to her."

Hearing her talk about Sara like this hurts me even more; as though I set my sights on her in New York because she was somehow better than Jess, and could satisfy me in a way Jess couldn't. The thought of this makes me feel nauseous.

"I do," I plead, fruitlessly.

"No," she says. "You don't. And I can't blame you. You live in a world where you can have what you want, when you want."

No, that's not fair. I can see where this is going and it's far from the truth.

"Everything is handed to you on a diamond encrusted plate because you are Harry Styles from One Direction," she continues. "You're so used to clicking your fingers and everybody jumping that you've lost touch with the real world."

I haven't. I'm still me. Why can no one see that? Why can no one ever fucking see that?

"I noticed it a few times while we were together," she says, her voice level and steady now. "Like when you just expected me to drop everything and stay another week with you in LA, and when you wanted me to go back to your place after Fleetwood Mac. And when you were pissed off at me tweeting Louis about Zayn because it would damage the band's reputation. It's what the fame has done to you, Harry, and it isn't your fault, but I can't be your little puppet that does everything you say. And you need to understand that you can't fuck some horse-faced model behind my back and expect me to stick around."

Am I really that person? The examples she's just given me are uncomfortably true, but did I really behave like that because I am used to getting what I want? Is that really me?

My own self-belief is crumbling around my ears. I thought I was a decent person; I thought the fame and money hadn't affected me, but what if Jess is right? Her words are worryingly similar to Nadine's, in a way. Is it a coincidence that both women that have been close to me have the same opinion of me? Have I changed without realising?

This is not the time to be dwelling on this.

"I do love you," I tell her, my chest heaving from the impact of her words. "I'm not trying to wriggle out of what I've done, but whether you believe me or not, I do love you. I can't help who I am, Jess-"

"Don't you dare try and make out like you're the fucking victim here!" she screams, and I shut up immediately. "You fucked someone else - that was your decision, your choice. While I was lying in bed trying not to feel paranoid that you were in a bar with your fucking ex-girlfriend, and trying to understand why you hadn't told me you'd arranged to see her, you were busy shoving your dick into some other fucking Victoria's Secret Angel!"

Her hurt is so clear in this last admission I actually gasp from the shock, and tears drip down my cheeks.

"So don't start playing the violins, Harry, because I'm sure your night was a lot more fun than mine! At least you will have got some enjoyment out of it," she finishes, viciously, and another stab of nausea hits me as I think of last night.

"I'm so sorry." I don't know what else to say. It's all I can think about, so it's all I can say.

I wipe my face with my hand and sniff discreetly.

"I am so fucking sick of hearing those words!" she says furiously. "You're only sorry because you got caught. I bet you wouldn't even have told me if you hadn't been papped."

"I would," I choke. "I would have told you. I couldn't lie to you. I could have denied all this tonight, and you would have been none the wiser. But I couldn't do that to you. I couldn't lie, on top of everything else..."

I won't bring Louis into this, but I could have followed his suggestion and denied it. But I didn't.

"You lied about Nadine," she hisses. "You didn't tell me you were going to see her."

"I know, I should have told you about that," I say, and my voice sounds strangled.

Why didn't I tell her about that? This is where all this started.

I hate myself for it.

"Whatever," she says, harshly. "It doesn't matter now anyway. It's done. You know that, don't you? I can't get past this. I can't forgive you for this."

Even though I haven't been expecting forgiveness, hearing these words is like a new punch in the stomach.

"I know," I sob. "I know you won't."

"Good. Then we are on the same page about one thing, at least."

I hear her sniff, and a small sob.

"I never meant to hurt you," I say, desperately.

"Yet somehow you still did," she replies, with a sigh. "I don't believe this was ever more than a bit of fun for you. A stupid game, for you and the others to laugh about. Stupid Jess, huge One Direction fan, let's make her dream come true."

She sounds so resigned to this, it makes my heart ache. I don't know how she can think she was just a bit of fun to me. She is my everything. My end and my beginning.

"Of course it wasn't a game," I deny. "No one is laughing at you."

"The whole fucking fandom will be laughing at me!" she explodes again. "You practically announced our relationship to the world in Cardiff, and less than a week later you're off banging a fellow celebrity halfway round the world, living your jet-set life. As far as public humiliation goes, I think you've topped it all. Even Anna Todd couldn't have written this! Well guess what Harry, I am not your fucking Tessa and this is not After. And I am not going to take you back."

The reference to the book that girl wrote about me that became famous isn't lost on me, and if this were any other situation I would rip her mercilessly for admitting she reads fanfiction. My heart aches again at the realisation that the dynamics of what is left of our relationship have completely changed, beyond repair.

She isn't going to take me back.

"I know," I say, flatly. "I know you won't. Believe me when I say I understand the magnitude of what I have done."

"Good!" she snaps. "Because right now I wish to God I had never met you. I wish I'd never gone to that stupid party. I wish I'd realised sooner what an arrogant, self-obsessed, manipulative prick you are, because if I had I wouldn't have gone all weak at the knees when you looked at me, and I would have tipped the entire contents of my drink all over your fucking head and walked away."

I don't blame her for feeling this way, but knowing she wishes we had never even happened hurts. A lot. Even more than the way she has just described me.

"I hate you," she adds. "Thanks for the broken heart. I'll send all your shit back. Feel free to bin anything of mine you might find lying around any of your houses. Oh and tell your mum it was lovely meeting her."

She's going for the jugular, I get it. She's lashing out and she wants to hurt me. And because I have let her get so close to me, she knows exactly how.

"18 days. That's how long this joke of a relationship lasted. 18 fucking days," she spits.

"Wh... what do you mean?" I stammer. I'm almost hyperventilating, I'm in such a state.

"From the day you came to my parents' house to sort things out, and you made me fucking beg to be your girlfriend... It's 18 days."

It can't be. It feels like we've been together months; years.

"It's... it's longer than that," I protest.

"Nope," she says casually. "18 full days we managed, until the day you ruined it with that bitch. Well done Harry. At least it was longer than the 12 hours we managed the first time around."

Thanks for reminding me I ruined it that time as well, all because I didn't tell you about Taylor Swift.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Why do I wreck everything I touch?

"Jess..," I begin, my voice shaking so hard I can barely get the words out. "I just want you to know I'm sorry, I swear. I never planned this. It's killing me, knowing how much I've hurt you. I hate myself.... I can't put it into words... I love you, and I'm so sorry."

I'm rambling again, and my voice breaks on the last word. I don't know if she believes me, but I hope some of it gets through to her. I can't bear her to think she wasn't enough for me, or that our relationship meant nothing, or that my motives for pursuing her were anything other than genuine. And above all, I need her to know that I love her.

Don't I?

"I can't carry on this conversation," she says, her voice trembling, and then breaking too. "There's nothing left to say. We're over. Have a nice life, Harry."

"Jess," I plead, but the line has gone dead. She's cut the call off.

And there you have it.

I'm a liar and a cheat, and she's left heartbroken.

I don't know who I am anymore, but one thing is for sure, I'm not who I thought I was.