(No Control - 76. Don't Let Me Go)

When I lay my eyes on Jess my heart gives a lurch and my stomach squeezes, sending a jolt of nerves right through me. The way she is looking at me makes my heart ache, and for a split second I wonder if she is here to forgive me, and this thought lifts me, before I remember what I must do.

I can't believe she's actually come all this way.

"You came," I murmur, almost to myself.

"I need closure," she says, softly.

"I know," I say, with a sigh.

I am so unbelievably sad. How did we get here? How did I ruin everything when I was so sure she was what I wanted. What I want. I am so confused.

I nudge the door with my foot so it closes behind me, giving us privacy, but I stay where I am. I'm afraid if I let myself too near her I will pull her into my arms and never let her go.

"You don't have to keep your distance," she says, a little too loud. "I don't bite. Or hit. Even when I want to."

The harsh tone of her voice brings me up short and I lift my head and gaze into her eyes.

"Do you want to?" I ask, half afraid of the answer.

"Hit you? Yes and no," she answers. "Honestly, I want to hurt you as much as you've hurt me. But I don't think any physical injury I could inflict upon you would even come close to the way you've made me feel."

Her words are blunt, her tone clipped. Simple, but effective.

I feel a fresh stab of pain at her plain admission of how I have hurt her, and my eyes dart away from her, as though hearing these words without looking at her face might somehow make this easier.

"I'm sorry," I offer.

It's pathetic and lame.

"You're sorry," she repeats, devoid of emotion. "I don't want to hear 'sorry,' I want to know why. I want to know exactly what happened. From the minute you got on the plane to New York, to the minute you woke up beside.... beside her."

I hear her voice wobble and I keep my gaze fixed on the window. I'm scared that if I look at her and see tears in her eyes it will break me.

"Why does it matter?" I ask, with a sigh.

What good will it do to go over it all again? I have nothing new to report.

"Why does it matter?!" she echoes. "Because I was in love with you, and I thought you were in love with me too!"

So did I.

"I thought I was," I say, feeling tears prick my eyes. I grit my teeth and will them away.

"So what changed?" she demands. "What happened to make you throw it all away for one drunken shag, when only hours earlier you'd been declaring your love for me?"

I wish I fucking knew.

"I don't see how reliving it all is going to help, Jess."

"Let me decide that!" she explodes, making me jump. "God damn it, Harry, why are you being like this?"

"I don't want to hurt you - " I begin, but she interrupts me.

"It's a bit late for that."

"I'm sorry," I start to say, but she cuts me off.

"And don't you dare say you're sorry again," she says, bitterly. "I don't want to hear it. I want the truth. Every detail. I don't care if you think it's going to hurt me. I need to hear it. If only so I can hate you even more than I already do."

She hates me.

I can't deal with that. I really can't fucking deal with that.

She isn't going to let this drop, is she?

"Fine," I agree. "If it's what you want. Where do you want me to start?"

"Why did you go to New York?" she asks immediately.

"For a night out with Jeff."

"So it had absolutely nothing to do with Nadine?"

"Not at first, no," I reply. "But she had texted me a couple of times and it came up in conversation. She said she would be there at the same time, and she wanted to see me."

"Why did she want to see you?"

"She said she missed me."

"OK. So why didn't you tell me?"

This is like a quick-fire round.

"I don't know," I mutter. "Sort of an awkward one to bring up, I guess."

And I am a coward, and didn't want to risk losing you.

"OK. So then what? You flew to New York?"

"Yeah. And I met up with her," I tell her. "She was all upset and crying, and said she wanted to give things another go. She said she missed me, and she was in love with me."

"And what did you say?" she presses.

"I told her I was with you," I say, truthfully. "And she got even more upset. She kept saying we were good together and she should never have let me go."

It actually feels good to be getting this off my chest.

"And what did you say?"

"I told her I was in love with you."

My stomach somersaults as I say these words, and I sneak a glance at her. She is glaring at me, her jaw set defiantly and her arms folded.

"OK, so then what happened?" she wants to know.

I wish I could confide in her about the things Nadine said about me, but I have lost the right to seek solace from Jess. I lost that right the moment I kissed Sara.

"We went round in circles for a bit," I say, evasively. "I didn't want to hurt her -"

"No, you never do," she sneers, and I feel my ears burn at this snide but well-deserved dig.

"- but I thought I got through to her," I continue, "and we ended up chatting for a few minutes about my plans with Jeff for that night. And then we said our goodbyes and left."

"Did you have sex with her?" she blusters.

"What?" I ask in disbelief. "No!"

Where did that come from?

"Don't look so shocked, it's a fair question," she snaps, and I feel another blow as I realise her trust in me is completely gone. Not that it was ever really there. "So what next?"

"I went back to the hotel, got ready, and went out with Jeff and some other friends," I explain. "We went to a few bars, we did shots and drank beer. I was stressed over... everything. I needed to unwind. I got drunk quite quickly, and then Nadine walked in with a group of friends."

"With Sara?" she clarifies, and an image of Sara's face smiling at me across the room flashes before my eyes. I feel nauseous at the memory of where this led.

"Yeah, she was with them," I admit.

"Go on," she says after a moment, her voice less confident.

"Nadine came over with Sara. I think there might have been another girl there too, but I can't really remember," I begin. "I wasn't paying much attention and I was quite drunk by this point."

I close my eyes, thinking back to that night, and parts of it seems to come back to me with ease.

"Nadine was being really flirty and kept touching my hand. I felt uncomfortable, so I went to the bathroom and when I came back they'd disappeared. I think that's when I rang you. Then a short while later they all walked past me and out the door. Nadine looked upset, but I didn't know why. We had another shot, and I wanted to call it a night then, but Jeff wanted to hit one more bar."

I pause, recalling the argument with Jeff, and my desperation to forget everything Nadine had said, and the drama with Louis, and my fears about the band. I can't tell her about the Speed. We've never talked about recreational drugs, but from the way she talks and acts, I don't think she's into any of that stuff. If I tell her, I'll only disgust her further, and I'm too embarrassed and ashamed. I skip ahead to the part where we left the bar.

"When we got outside, Sara was there with one of her friends. She came over to me and we talked briefly, and I gave her a hug goodbye."

I suddenly remember that jolt of desire I felt when Sara came close to me, and I feel sick all over again. How could I have felt that way about anyone other than Jess? I omit this too, but for no other reason than I don't want to twist the knife.

"Then I went to another bar - I don't remember how I got there, all I remember is the loud music and people dancing," I continue, eager to get this painful recollection over with so I never have to think about it ever again. "Jeff had a couple more shots but I had some water - I could hardly walk. Dale - one of my security - said he needed to get me back to the hotel, so the car arrived, I got in, and Dale took me up to my room. He made me drink a pint of water, and then my phone rang. I thought it would be you, but... it was... you know. Sara."

Even saying her name out loud in front of Jess feels wrong.

"OK," she nods, and her eyes look a bit red. I plough on.

"She asked me if she could see me. She said Nadine was really upset. I tried to put her off - I just wanted to go to sleep - but she persisted, so I agreed she could come to the hotel. Dale went down to meet her and brought her up to my suite. I made us a some tea but she didn't want it. She started saying how Nadine was upset after our conversation earlier, and she was worried about her. We talked for a few minutes about that, and then the conversation went off topic a bit, and I was yawning. She asked if she was boring me, and I felt bad, so I said no, I was just really tired."

"You want a line? I have some here from earlier that Jason gave me."

I can actually hear Sara's voice in my head, and I swallow hard, pushing the memory away. I need to keep my cool. I skip this part too.

"She stood up and said she'd let me get to bed, and I stood up too, to walk her to the door, and..." I feel a bubble of misery rising in my throat and I stop before it becomes audible.

"And what?" Jess chokes, her voice wrought with emotion.

I swallow the lump in my throat and draw a shaky breath.

"She kissed me."

Jess makes a small exclamation of shock, as though hearing these words cause her physical pain.

"And then what?" she pushes.

I've got to hand it to her - she's strong. There's no way I could listen to this about her and another guy in this sort of detail.

"And I... I kissed her back," I say, shamefully.

She turns away from me and sits down on a chair, resting her head in her hands. She looks broken.

"Jess," I plead.

"Carry on," she instructs without looking at me, but how can I, when I can see how much she is hurting; how much I am hurting her.

"Jess -"

"Just fucking finish the story, Harry," she snaps.

"Fine. We kissed, she pushed me onto the bed and we had sex," I say in a rush.

There. It's done.

"How?" Jess asks, staring down at the carpet and digging her fingernails into her scalp. "Her on top, or you?"

"Oh come on, Jess, that's not going to help," I protest.

"Who was on top?!" she screams, and I feel a wave of panic at being made to relive this all over again, the only purpose being to hurt her further.

"Her, at first. Then me," I say, and my voice comes out strangled.

I hear a miserable sob, and I look at her frantically to see her face crumpled in misery and her shoulders heaving. As I suspected, it breaks me, and I kneel beside her and wrap my arms around her, trying to protect her from this pain; this pain that I have caused. But she wriggles out of my embrace and pushes me away.

"Don't touch me," she says thickly. "Your hands... they touched her... it makes me feel sick. How could you, Harry?"

"I'm so sorry," I say again, my voice barely audible.

"Did you come?"

What?

Are we really going there? She wants to know if I enjoyed it? What am I supposed to say? Do I lie?

I've told enough lies.

"Did you?" she demands.

"Yes."

"Oh God," she whispers and covers her face with her hands, hiding her pain from me. Or just hiding from me, because that is where we're at now. "Why did you do it? Why didn't you say no?"

"I honestly, honestly don't know," I say helplessly. "I just didn't think. If I had, I wouldn't have done it. My mind was blank, I swear. I don't remember thinking anything."

If she believes nothing else, she has to believe that I never set out to be unfaithful. I don't know how it happened, I don't know how we are standing here now talking about it.

"I just went through the motions," I explain. "It didn't last long, it wasn't romantic, there was no feeling there. It was just sex. I don't know if you want to hear that or not but it's the truth."

"Did you..." She falters. "Did you use a condom?"

"Yes."

One small mercy.

"So you've just proved yourself to be a fucking liar!" she screams. "Because if you weren't thinking anything you wouldn't have thought to use a condom, would you?"

"I... I... I don't remember," I stammer. "I remember putting one on, but I don't remember the thought process behind it. Honestly, bab - Jess - it's just a blur."

Baby. She's not my baby anymore.

"Have you had sex with her before?" she asks.

"No."

"But she had your number?"

"We've met a few times before, at different events," I explain. "Nothing romantic has ever happened though. We were just friends. Not even that. Acquaintances."

"How many times did you do it?"

"Once," I say quickly, looking her in the eye. "I swear to you it was just once."

"And afterwards?"

"I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I remember is waking up next to her. It all came flooding back - what had happened. I ran to the bathroom and threw up, because I was so disgusted with what I'd done."

She says nothing, but sits down again on the chair without looking at me. I watch her for a minute, unsure what to do. I can tell from the way she is hunched over that she is crying silently, staring down at the carpet. Eventually I sit down next to her in the same position, and she wipes her cheeks.

"I still don't understand it," she says, her voice trembling. "Were you just horny, or... or what?"

"I don't even know," I mutter, looking at the floor too. "I wish I could give you an answer, but I don't understand it myself. There was no thinking behind it. There was no reason. It wasn't premeditated. It just happened, and I wish to God it hadn't."

"You regret it?"

Is she actually joking?

"Of course I do," I say, earnestly, but as soon as our eyes meet she looks away. "I wish more than anything I could turn the clock back, but I can't. I knew the minute I woke up and saw her... I knew it was over with us. I knew."

"Why did you tell me you loved me, if you didn't?"

"I thought I did - I didn't lie to you," I say, desperately. "I just said what I felt at the time. This is so fucked up."

I look away and stand up, walking away from her because the longer I sit next to her the more I weaken.

"What do you mean? What's fucked up?"

"This. Me. Everything. It's fucking wrong, Jess. This whole thing." My heart is racing now with nerves. I feel sick again at this whole situation. "We could never have worked, me and you. We're so different. Not as people, but the lifestyles we lead. I'm never in one place for long enough. You're too good to be left hanging around for someone like me. I ruined everything we had because I got drunk, and I fucking hate myself for it... you don't understand..."

My hands are running through my hair, pulling at it in despair. I feel myself unravelling in front of her.

"Explain it to me, then."

"Everyone thinks I'm this... this perfect, desirable guy, but I'm not."

I took drugs, for fuck's sake. I ended up in bed with someone else. I've let myself down.

"I mess up, like everyone else. People don't treat me normally. No one does, except my family. And you. But even you have Harry Styles moments sometimes. I was just this normal guy, and now... now I don't know what I am; who I am. I'm just... I'm fucking lost. Lost without you, lost without this band... I don't fucking know."

I'm fighting a lump rising in my throat. I have never felt more alone in my whole life than I do right now, and I am the cause of all of this.

"What do you mean?" she asks, standing up, but I walk away from her, pulling at the roots of my hair.

"I just feel like everything is crashing down around me," I say, and even I can hear the tremor in my voice. "I've messed up so badly. I've hurt you, and I just can't forgive myself..." My voice finally breaks and I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my lips together to fight the wave of emotion. I sense her presence behind me about half a second before I feel her arms slip around my waist. I can't help myself from turning around in her embrace and pulling her against me tightly, my whole body shaking as I try to push away these feelings inside. I never want to let her go, but as she cries into my tshirt I am reminded again of how badly I have messed up, and how much I have hurt this beautiful, sweet girl who loves me so purely.

"I'm so sorry," I sob, pressing my cheek against the top of her head. "I've ruined everything. You didn't deserve any of this... I don't deserve you..."

"Harry," she begins, but doesn't continue. I squeeze her tighter, holding her against me as she makes to pull away. I never want to let her go. But I have to.

"I wish things could have been different," I whisper. "I wish I could have been different. I let you down so badly. I broke your trust."

She looks up at me, her eyes searching my face.

"Why did you do it?" she asks.

"Because I'm weak," I answer, because this is the only answer I have. "And I'm a horrible person. I'm everything you said I was on the phone yesterday. I need to sort myself out."

Starting now.

I release her from my arms and step away.

"I was angry yesterday," she says, tearfully. "I didn't mean some of that stuff I said. I was lashing out."

"You were right. About all of it," I say, with a shake of my head. "I have been affected by this fame. I'm not the same person I used to be. I'm a liar, a cheat and a mess. I should have walked away from you at the start; I should never have dated a fan."

It's like I have a sudden clarity. This never should have got this far.

"It was wrong, all of it," I continue. "I dragged you into this fake, pretentious world and I shouldn't have. You were right not to trust me for so long; I proved you right in the end."

"So you never loved me?" she asks, looking up at me with her beautiful eyes, and she sounds so innocent, asking this plain and simple question.

How do I even begin to answer it? My actions don't reflect my feelings. What if my feelings aren't real?

"I cheated on you," I say out loud, and the words make me feel physically sick. "Who does that when they're in love with someone?" I ask.

She doesn't answer.

"Please believe that I never set out to hurt you," I beg. "And I'm sorry it ended this way."

She sits down and puts her head in her hands.

"I don't know what to say," she mutters.

"There's nothing left to say," I sigh. "This was always going to fall apart. I was just too naïve to see it. This is why celebrities don't date people from the real world. No one can understand this way of life except people in the same situation. Everyone tried to warn me, but I wouldn't listen."

I don't mean this the way it sounds. I'm coming across arrogant and supercilious, and that's not who I am. Is it?

"I don't know how you can say that," she says defensively. "What didn't I understand? I accepted everything you told me. I loved you for you."

"Yeah, and look at what I managed to do in return," I reply, bitterly. "I threw it all away because I got drunk." Drunk and wired. "I made you hate me and I made me hate myself."

"Is that why I wasn't enough for you?" she asks, sadly. "Because I'm not famous?"

"It's not that you're not enough for me!" I protest. "You're too good for me! I proved that when I was unfaithful. I know in my heart you would never do anything like that to me. So what does that say about us? That you're out of my league, not the other way around."

"There are no leagues," she says, almost derisively.

"Of course there are," I argue, regretfully. "In this superficial world. A world that you should never have been part of. I'm sorry."

"I want to be part of it," she says, in a small voice, and I think I must have misheard. "I want to be part of your life. I want to try and sort things out."

"What?"

What the hell is she saying? She wants me, even after all I've done to her?

My heart gives a leap, and I want nothing more than to collapse in her arms and kiss her and promise that I will never hurt her again, as long as I live.

"I don't know, Harry. I hate you, but I love you. I don't know how that works but it's all I can say right now."

And then I remember I'm not good at making promises. I even put those words in a song.

"Jess - "

"Come back home tonight, after the show," she interrupts. "We can talk, try and work this out."

"Jess, I -" I try again, but she cuts me off.

"Look, I'm not saying it'll be easy, or even promising that it will work, but I want to give it a shot."

Her voice sounds echoey and far away. It feels like this is happening to someone else. It's everything I want, but know I can't have.

"Jess... I'm sorry but... I don't," I manage to say.

And just as I'd contemplated promising her I would never hurt her again, I hurt her all over again.

"What?" she says. She looks crushed beyond repair.

"I'm so sorry."

"I... I don't understand, Harry."

She's shaking. I'm shaking.

"It is over, Jess. I'm so sorry. This was never going to work out. I should never have tried to be someone I'm not. I tried to be a normal person again, when I was with you, but that's not who I am anymore."

It's been fun while it lasted. It's been amazing. It's been the best three months of my life, knowing her. But I can't taint this beautiful, sweet, perfect girl any more. I have to let her go.

"I'm Harry Styles from One Direction, and that life can never really cross into my old life," I say, as calmly as I can. "Not properly, not fully. I have to concentrate on moving forward, not back."

She's staring silently at me.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Jess," I assure her, as fervently as I can. "This is all me. You deserve so much better than the way I've treated you. I'll never forgive myself for what I've done."

Her hair is falling in her face and I reach up and tuck it behind her ear, brushing her cheek with my fingertips. She's so beautiful. She has no idea.

"One of us always ends up hurting the other, and it's usually me hurting you," I say, softly. "I can't do it anymore. I've proved I'm not capable of being the person you need me to be, so I'm calling time on this. Better now than further down the line."

I pause for a moment, taking in every inch of her beauty, from the soft waves framing her face, to the dimple currently missing from her cheek. And then I turn away from her, walking quickly across the room towards the door before my willpower breaks. I can't drag her down with me. I'm a mess, a fuck-up.

"Harry," she calls, her voice wracked with emotion. "I love you."

I stop with my hand on the door and grit my teeth to fight the tears. It's taking everything I have not to turn back and run to her and hold her so tightly and never let go.

I look back at her face, etched with sorrow and heartbreak, and I know I am doing the right thing for both of us. Somehow it doesn't make it any easier.

"Please," she begs. "Don't go."

It's ironic that I smile at her, when actually my own heart is breaking too. I'm lost without hope.

"I'm already gone," I hear myself say.

And I turn and walk out of her life.