(No Control | Holding Me Ransom - 11 - With Him, Slowdancing)

I break away from her and look down at the floor.

"Sorry - you just... you looked upset... I didn't mean to... I shouldn't..."

I'm stammering; stumbling over my words, unable to articulate myself properly while she is standing this close to me, yet finitely out of reach.

"It's fine," she says timidly.

I miss you. I'm sorry. This whole thing is such a mess, you wouldn't believe me if I told you even half of it. I've been hurt and betrayed by people I trusted and I'm struggling to cope with it. I'm fed up of moping around and I'm boring myself going over and over it, but I can't let go. I'm supposed to be staying away from you but I can't even stick to my own rules. Help me. Please.

"How are you?" I say out loud.

"Fine. You?"

Falling apart. Battling with guilt and self-loathing. Desperately alone.

"Good, yeah," I nod.

"Good."

My hands are twitching uncomfortably at my sides. I am aching to touch her again, to hold her and never let her go. I'm weakening.

Gary arrives and casts me a disdainful look, and then leans into Jess and says something in her ear that looks suspiciously like, 'What's he doing here?'

It's fine, mate. I'm a celebrity. We don't have feelings.

Jess doesn't answer him. She is looking at me, her eyes locked on mine. Gary follows her gaze, and reluctantly gives me a brief nod of acknowledgement before turning back to her again. I can tell by his stance that he is trying to mark his territory. His body is angled towards Jess, positioned between me and her, as though trying to exclude me. I get it.

I hate him for being better for her than me. I hate him for being everything I am not: Uncomplicated. At her side. Her friend. I'm trying not to let my feelings show, but if I stand here any longer I won't be able to keep them in.

"Take care, yeah?" I mumble, and quickly turn away, slipping between the heaving crowd, eager to put some distance between us.

I scuttle back to our booth and slide in next to Niall.

"Where have you been?" he asks. His eyes are droopy. He's drunk.

I need to be drunk, too. I need to get completely off my face, to blot out the stabbing pain in my heart that is refusing to let up.

"Where are those shots?" I shout, over the pounding bass. "Can we get some more of them?"

"Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" Niall exclaims in approval, and he catches the waiter's eye almost immediately and asks for another tray of shots.

Callie's stare is piercing right through me, and I'm finding it increasingly difficult to avoid catching her eye. I make a huge fuss when the shots arrive, laughing heartily at something Niall says but I don't actually hear, and then clink glasses with him before tipping the burning liquid down the back of my throat. It's fuckıng rank. Almost as rank as that cherry brandy I drank at the house party with Jess.

And we're back to Jess again. This stuff is supposed to be driving her from my mind, not reminding me of her and accentuating my pain.

"You staying in a hotel tonight, or at home?" Niall asks.

"At home. I wasn't even supposed to be out tonight," I tell him.

Sometimes we stay in hotels after nights out, even though we're in London. When the paps know we're likely to be heading home they wait outside our houses, hoping for pictures of us staggering in, completely inebriated, at five a.m. Not good for our image, especially if we have female company that particular night.

"Get a room with us," Niall insists. "You don't wanna be going home on your own, pissed."

I shrug, and text Karen asking her to book me a room in the same hotel at the others. She texts back, May I remind you I am not your secretary, and a couple of minutes later: Booked.

Odd. I should have contacted my PA for that, really. Strange that Karen didn't make more of a fuss.

Niall and I work our way through the tray of shots, as no one else seems particularly interested in them. Callie is too intent on glaring at me with her arms folded; Jess's other two friends have disappeared, either to the loo or to find Jess; Louis is esconced in a conversation with his mates.

"Take it easy man," Niall advises as I knock back shot number four. "Don't forget we have a show tomorrow."

"I might call in sick," I joke. "Pull a Zayn."

We laugh hysterically at this, harder than we should.

"You did shag a bird behind your girlfriend's back," Niall giggles into my ear, so no one else can hear. "That's gotta be worth a week off with stress."

"And I was spiked," I point out. "I'm scarred... not physically but emotionally."

"Fucķ, Louis mentioned something about that," Niall replies, suddenly serious. "What happened?"

I quietly give him a brief lowdown, covering the essential points while making sure we are not being overheard, and his eyes widen with every word.

"Jesus fųckin' Christ," he says, his eyebrows knitted together so hard his eyes have almost disappeared. "Psychotic bitch."

I dart another glance over at Jess, who is dancing with Gary. She's a brilliant dancer, and he's confident enough to pull off the moves that he's attempting in a bid to keep up with her. They look amazing. I keep them in the corner of my vision while I listen to Niall trying to convince me to tell Jess everything, and nod along silently, still undecided.

Gary keeps looking over at me with a self-righteous look on his face, the prick. What the fucķ does he know about me? What the fucķ does he know about any of this?

Jess doesn't look over, and this makes me feel worse. Clearly she is now fine and dandy, now she's back in Gary's arms. Gary Harry Barry Larry. Fuckıng hell.

Niall is tapping his fingers on the table to Blame by Calvin Harris, and I watch Jess dancing and pointing at Gary, Barry, whatever, and she's singing along, "Just blame it on the night, don't blame it on me..."

How ironic.

I drop my head down and run my hand wildly through my hair. I really need to snap out of this. I can feel myself slipping towards a dark place; I've felt it for a while now, and it scares me. I don't know how to pull myself away, but something tells me if I don't sort myself out soon I'm going to end up a seriously fuckėd up mess.

The alcohol probably isn't helping. I know it's a depressant, and I'm torn between wanting to drink myself into oblivion, and wanting to go to the hotel and sober up.

I have a show tomorrow, what am I even doing?!

I need to call it a night.

Calvin Harris merges into John Legend, and I feel my blood run cold. I look up, searching the room for Jess, and for a moment I think she's left, with fuçking Barry, and my heart gives a panicked thud that makes me feel sick.

Then I catch sight of them, and I wish I hadn't.

She's squashed up against him - Barry - with her arm around him and her cheek on his chest.

No.

I will not watch them slow dancing together. It's making me want to rip my hair out.

I'm about to look away when I catch his eye, and the fuckıng basțard holds my gaze for a moment, then gives me the smuggest look imaginable, and then laughs.

He's using her. He's using her to get at me, for whatever pathetic reason he has in his stupid blond head.

Jess lifts her head to look at him, and he throws me a smirk before slowly looking down at her.

I'm out of our booth before I can even blink, striding out of the VIP area, my heart pounding. I push my way through the crowd towards them, on the verge of panic. I need to get to them, to stop this from happening. I won't let her be used like this. I can't watch her kiss someone else in front of me.

These people need to get the fuck out of my way, like now.

I catch sight of them a couple of feet away. Gary is gently tucking a stray piece of Jess's hair behind her ear.

Get off her! I want to scream. She isn't yours to touch that way!

He's leaning down to her now. No no no no NO.

"Jess," I say breathlessly, arriving clumsily at their side.

She looks up at me, her expression unreadable. The look on Gary's face right now could turn milk sour. I ignore him.

"Can we talk?" I ask her, softly, and in that instant my mind is made up. I won't let her walk away from me until she knows the truth. I'm going to tell her everything.

"She's busy," Gary says, shortly.

Yeah, well, guess what, Barry, I wasn't asking you.

"I'm busy," she says, and her voice sounds high and squeaky.

She's unsure. Barry's chimpanzee arms tighten around her. He can't read her like I can. He doesn't have a clue.

"It's important," I insist.

"Course it is," Barry says sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Fucķ off, Barry.

"What about?" Jess asks, in the same nervous tone. Her eyes don't leave mine. I'm bolstered by this small victory.

"In private?" I say, shifting my eyes to Barry briefly, meaningfully.

Send him packing, Jess. Come on.

"Five minutes," she agrees, and Barry knows when he is defeated.

He lets go of her and I turn unsteadily on my feet and walk as smoothly as I can back to the VIP area and over to the private bar. My heart is pounding as a new thought strikes me. What if I've read this all wrong? What if she's actually going out with Gary now? She may not have shared the full story with Louis. But then again, what about this Adam ķnobheađ, the one that kissed her the other night in front of Grimmy? What if he arrives in the middle of all this? I'm starting to sweat from the stress.

I look down at her, and I don't even know where to begin. She's given me five minutes. How do I explain this all in five minutes?

I decide to ease myself in.

"Are you with Gary now?"

Barry.

"What?!" she asks incredulously. "You brought me over here to ask me that?"

Ah, balls. I've pissed her off. Not a good start.

"Are you?" I press. I mean, I've asked the question now. I may as well get the answer.

"No!" she cries. "What business is it of yours anyway?!"

"It's not, I just... I was just asking," I say, stupidly. "He's a nice guy."

She gives me a look of utter disbelief.

"What?" I mutter. "He is."

She knows I'm lying through my teeth. At least she can read me as well as I can read her. My heart gives a little swell.

She shakes her head and sighs.

"What do you want, Harry?"

"To talk," I say, quickly. "To explain. I've been a shıt, and I'm sorry. I should have told you everything from the beginning, but some of it I didn't even know until recently, not that it will make a difference to anything anyway, but I want to tell you..."

I'm trying to impress how important this is, before she loses interest and I lose her forever.

"Tell me what?" she asks.

I look into her beautiful eyes, so wide and innocent. How could I have hurt her so badly?

"Can we go somewhere more quiet?" I beg. "We can't talk properly here."

I don't want to shout all of this over the music. I want to talk about it, properly. And selfishly, I want to spend time with her, on our own.

"Where?" she asks.

I hesitate. I know how this is going to sound: sleazy.

"My hotel?" I suggest, tentatively.

"Why are you staying in a hotel?" she asks, sceptically. "Your house isn't far from here."

"More privacy. The paps will be all over my house," I explain, glad she isn't shooting me down over this idea. "We're all staying in a hotel tonight. So will you come with me? Paul can take you home whenever you want."

"Fine, fine," she mutters, resignedly, and I almost sigh out loud in relief.

I nod as casually as I can, and lead her back to our booth before she can change her mind. I text Paul, asking him to bring the car round, and then send a quick text to Karen to let her know my plans, in case we are seen, but I'm not too worried. All I can think about is getting Jess alone. I can't even think about kissing her right now, because the thought that that might not happen tonight is too awful to contemplate.

I know these thoughts shouldn't have entered my head, but they have and I am really struggling to control the jumble of feelings that are battling inside me now.

"What are you doing?" Louis asks me.

"Taking Jess back to the hotel," I reply. "Not like that," I add, when he gives me a dirty, knowing look. "Just to talk."

"Yeah, yeah," he smirks, and I ignore him.

Callie and Jess are arguing, but Jess turns to me and looks into my eyes.

"You ready?" I ask, ignoring the burn of Callie's stare, and she nods defiantly.

I fuckıng love this girl. I love her for her strength of character, and for knowing her own mind enough not to be swayed by her friends, who are undoubtedly trying to convince her to stay away from me.

Dale accompanies us outside, where the paps are shoving their cameras in our faces, and I trip and half-fall into the car. So much for being cool. Jess giggles as she slips in gracefully behind me and Dale shuts the door.

I check my phone - Karen has texted me: Try and linger outside, let the paps get some good pictures of you. You need to be photographed together.

No, I reply. I'm not playing her for my own gain. You know how she feels about being seen with me.

This might be your only chance, Harry, is her response.

EXACTLY, I reply, and shove my phone in my pocket.

The journey to the hotel is short and quiet. As we pull up outside the main entrance Paul turns around and slips me a key card, which I slide into my wallet. There are no paps outside, thankfully - precisely the reason we do this sometimes - and Dale escorts us from the car, through the front doors, across the lobby and over to the lift.

I can't take my eyes off Jess. It's the first time I've looked at her properly, and she looks absolutely stunning. She's wearing a cream dress that shows off her legs, and a pair of high shoes that place her head just at the right height for me to kiss her. Her hair is as soft and shiny as ever, tumbling down her back in soft waves. I want to reach across to her and crush it in my hands; to feel it tickling my arms, my face, my bare chest -

I'm getting a hard-on. Fucķ.

This isn't what this is about. Tonight is about telling her the truth. Not pouncing on her the first chance I get.

But fuckįng hell, she looks so beautiful. Heartbreakingly beautiful.

The lift arrives and we step in next to Dale. I catch the scent of her shampoo and my stomach lurches. Her fragrance is familiar, comforting. It's like the last few weeks have never happened. It's like before I messed everything up. She looks over at me and our eyes lock. She holds my gaze for a millisecond longer than necessary, and this tells me everything I need to know. She feels something too. She may look cool on the outside, but suddenly I know she is trembling inside, just like I am.

I move my hand slightly, so my little finger brushes against hers. She doesn't look at me, but I hear her breath hitch, and I feel myself hardening fully. I pull my hand away and lick my lips nervously. I can't think of anything else other than her legs wrapped around my waist and her lips locked on mine. I can't stop staring at her, and she knows it.

We arrive on a private floor, and Dale leads us down the corridor to a suite at the very end. I pull the key card out that Paul gave me and ram it into the slot, praying it works. It does.

Dale bids us goodnight, even though he'll be waiting outside the door, and I switch the lights on as we enter the room. I think I've stayed here before. There is a four poster bed, a lounge area, a huge television and a door leading off presumably to the bathroom where I would bet my entire year's salary there is a jacuzzi bath.

I put my wallet and phone down on the little table next to the door and then turn to Jess, trying not to wobble on my feet. I suddenly feel drunk and reckless, and more than anything else, I need her.

There hasn't been anyone else since Sara. I feel sick that the last time I had sex was with her. I feel like that indignity is still with me, is what defines me. I'm Harry Styles, the guy who cheated on the love of his life with Sara Sampaio. I need Jess, not just because I am in love with her, but because I need her to drive away the memory of Sara. I need to wash away these feelings of disgust and self-loathing.

I step towards her, desire taking over, propelling me forward. I no longer want to talk. I want to fucķ. I'm angry and bitter at everything that has happened to me, and I want her. I need to seek solace in her.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" she starts to say, but her words are cut off as I grab her forearms and press her up against the door we have just come through, pressing my mouth onto hers roughly. I'm scared for half a second, in case she pushes me away, but she doesn't. I jerk my hips forward so she can feel my erection digging into her, letting her know exactly what I want.

I just feel like if I can lose myself in her, one more time, I might just be able to find some light at the end of this tunnel.