(No Control | Holding Me Ransom - 44 - You Might Have Moved On, first part)

I get an email acknowledgement from Karen on Monday morning, along with a suggestion of the thirteenth to the fifteenth of October, as this fits nicely between the Birmingham and Dublin dates and coincides with a photo shoot Georgia is doing on the south coast. She will be staying at Babington House down in Somerset, which is part of Soho House and therefore ideal for me as I am already a member. Karen offers to book me into one of their walled garden rooms, which are separate from the main building, for a couple of days' relaxation and a chance to spend some time getting to know Georgia. I email back my confirmation, and the subject comes up on Tuesday afternoon as I am having a brew in the kitchen with Mum.

"What are your plans over the next couple of weeks?" she asks. "Are we likely to see you up here again? Don't forget it's Mike's birthday party this weekend."

Mike is Robin's son, and my step brother. He's having a party for his thirtieth birthday, and I've promised I'll be there.

"I'll be home for that," I nod. "I'll come straight back here after Glasgow, and I'll stay here between the Birmingham shows, if that's OK. There's no point going back to London."

"Have you made any plans to see Jess?" she asks, carefully.

"No," I reply, staring down at my cup of tea miserably. For the last twenty four hours I've tried to put her to the back of my mind, but every time my phone has rung my stomach has clenched in case it is her, ringing to tell me she doesn't want to see me anymore. I don't know which is worse - the silence or the truth.

"I thought things were going well?" Mum says, her brow creased in confusion. "You seemed so happy at the weekend."

"She's made it clear we're never going to happen," I mumble. "She's been telling me to move on for weeks, and I've just been ignoring it and staring after her like a lovesick puppy, as Gemma so eloquently put it."

"Jess actually said that there's no hope for you?"

"Not in so many words," I sigh. "But a couple of things she said over the weekend... encouraging me to spend next year in LA, saying it had been fun 'just hanging out'" - I draw quotation marks in the air - "and some comment about Liam and Sophia finding a way to be happy without each other... she was letting me down gently, I know she was. And just before she left she was looking at me with this really sad expression on her face, like she was about to break it off for good. I practically ran away down the stairs to stop her from saying it. It was pathetic. I'm pathetic."

"Sweetheart, you're not pathetic," Mum says gently. "I had no idea any of this had happened. She seemed so happy to be around you. It looked to me like you were both finally getting somewhere."

I shake my head resolutely. "I've been fooling myself for far too long. I need to accept it's over and I need to move on."

"Move on?" she repeats, looking at me questioningly over the top of her mug. 

She knows. How does she always know?

"A girl called Georgia has asked to meet up with me next week," I admit. "I sort of know her - she's a Victoria's Secret model. I'm going to spend a couple of days with her, and see how things go."

Mum is clearly trying to hide her surprise.

"Are you sure that's wise?" she says eventually. "How do you think Jess would feel about that?"

"How do I think my ex-girlfriend, who doesn't want to be with me because she can't forgive me for cheating on her, would feel about me moving on with my life like she has been telling me to do for ages?" I muse, with more than a hint of sarcasm in my tone. 

Mum sighs. "What I mean is, how might this affect any hope you have of a reconciliation?"

"There is no hope," I say, bluntly. 

"Harry, love... I really think you should have an honest conversation with Jess first," she says firmly. "I'm not trying to interfere, but I don't want to see you go through any more heartbreak. I think you've dealt with enough this year, and I can't see what good will come out of meeting up with some model you barely know, while you're still in love with your ex, who as far as I can tell is still in love with you too."

"I appreciate the advice, but my mind's made up," I reply, equally as firmly. "Jess told me some time ago not to turn down someone else while I waited for her, and she told me over and over again that she wants space, so that's exactly what I'm giving her. We're not a couple, we're supposedly just friends. She's free to do what she likes, and so am I. She's never the one to get in touch with me; it's always me doing the running. She's not bothered about me - she's certainly not still in love with me - and it's about time I got over her."

I press my lips together, a little nervous at the way I have just shut Mum's argument down so finally. I can tell she wants to labour the point, but I also know she hates to interfere in my life, and after a moment she gives a nod, and smiles as me.

"OK love. Just know that I'm here for you if you want to talk. I just want you to be happy."

"I know," I mumble, feeling sad all over again; at the situation I have found myself in, and the notion of starting all over again with someone new: the first date conversations, the trepidation of revealing too much about myself in case it ends up splashed all over the media... I never worried about that with Jess because from the word go she was discreet and totally uninterested in the fame that came with being linked to me. She had the utmost respect for my privacy, and finding someone I can trust to that level is going to be near impossible.

But I can't stay celibate and alone forever. And this girl Georgia knows what it is like to work in the spotlight. She knows Kendall, Nadine and Sara, all of whom have been discreet if nothing else. What's the worst that can happen?

---

The Glasgow show goes without a hitch, and Jess texts me on Thursday night asking how things are. I reply on Friday morning, telling her about Mike's birthday party and that I'm spending the weekend at home. 

I get a text out of the blue from Georgia saying she is looking forward to meeting me properly, and asking what day I will be arriving. Karen has confirmed Tuesday and Wednesday, so I reply to Georgia to let her know, and tell her I am looking forward to meeting her too. The conversation continues casually, about the spa treatments available and the quality of the food there, and the whole time we are talking I am annoyed to realise I feel guilty, as though I am cheating on Jess.

This is stupid - we are no longer in a relationship, and I have no reason to feel bad for talking to another female. I try to push Jess out of my mind, yet she is still the one that plagues my thoughts the entire weekend, and the one who occupies my fantasies while I am alone in bed with only my hand for company. 

I am both excited for and dreading the release of Perfect next weekend - it was written about Jess, and I can't help wondering if she will understand it, yet at the same time it feels a little awkward, given the timing of the release and the state of our (nonexistent) relationship. I don't have much time to dwell upon this however, as the next couple of days are spent in Birmingham for our three shows at the Barclaycard Arena. 

I have a very brief text exchange with Jess about the names of the album tracks that we revealed on the One Direction Snapchat, in between texts from Georgia. (She seems very full-on - Georgia, not Jess - and she doesn't seem to want to hide the fact that she is into me. She's confident and forward, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I'm not sure exactly what she is expecting from this mini-break. I don't know if I'm ready to jump into bed with anyone else just yet, or whether maybe that is actually exactly what I need to help me move on. One thing I am sure of, is that it isn't fair to be meeting up with her if all I'm going to do is compare her to my ex. I am determined to give this date a proper chance. I owe it to myself; and to Georgia, who has done nothing wrong.)

Monday night's show throws a slight spanner in the works when I am prancing - no, dancing - around on stage, and feel a distinct crack somewhere in my right foot. I grit my teeth and manage not to let my pain show, but once the show has finished and I can remove my chelsea boot backstage it is obvious that it is not just a sprain, as my foot has swollen up to almost twice the size of the other one and hurts even to put the smallest amount of pressure on it.

Our doctor insists I get it x-rayed, and without thinking I text Jess:

I think I've broken my foot :(  

It is only when my phone lights up with a call from her immediately that I remember I was supposed to be keeping my distance from her, and my stomach lurches uncomfortably. I stare at my phone for a moment, contemplating ignoring the call, and then give myself a mental shake and man up.

"Are you alright?" she says, before I have even said hello.

"Yeah, it just hurts," I mutter.

"What have you done?"

"I dunno," I huff. "I was jumping around on stage tonight and I sort of felt something snap. It was agony, but I kept on going and then as soon as we finished they got a doctor to examine me and I've got to go to the hospital to get it x-rayed."

"Bloody hell," she says, sounding worried. It makes my stomach flip. "What are you going to do about the other shows?"

"I'll be fine," I say, bravely. "I'll probably just have to wear one of those boot things, like Niall had. I'll know more tomorrow."

There is a pause, before she asks, "What are your plans over the next few days?" 

Ah, fuck. I don't really want to talk about Georgia with Jess, but I don't want to lie, either.

"Not much, really. Got some promo to do," I answer truthfully. "We're in London tomorrow but then I've got a couple of other things on, and then we fly to Dublin on the sixteenth."

I mention the 'couple of other things' as fast as I can, hoping she won't question me further, and to my relief she doesn't.

"Harry?" It's a member of our medical staff. "The car's here. Let's get you x-rayed."  

"I gotta go, they want to take me to the clinic now," I tell Jess. "Sorry."

"It's fine," she says, with a strained laugh. "Let me know how you get on. I'm around this week, if you're not busy, but it's fine if you are..."

"OK," I reply vaguely, getting to my feet and trying not to wince. "Catch up soon, yeah?"

The x-ray shows I have broken my accessory navicular, which I have never even heard of before today. I am given a prescription for strong painkillers and a soft boot to wear on my foot while it heals, and I spend the journey back to London wondering how this is going to look when I turn up to meet Georgia with this conglomerate attached to my leg. It's not exactly attractive.

I text Jess to let her know about my foot, and then hobble around on Tuesday morning packing a few things in an overnight bag for Somerset. I spend a few minutes searching for my grey Packers hoodie, before remembering I gave it to Jess in LA. I wonder if she kept it, or if it was in the bag she gave to Callie to chuck in the bin.

With all the drama of the last few weeks I hadn't thought much more about getting all Jess' stuff back for her. I sit down on the bed briefly and open up my messages. I reread Callie's abrupt reply to my text about planning a surprise for Jess, and sigh. There doesn't seem any point pursuing that now, but I'd like to know the fate of my jumper. Plus, I can't help thinking Callie is a bit of a bitch, and I'm annoyed at how rude she was when I only asked her a simple, polite question.

Was there a grey Green Bay Packers hoodie in the bag of One Direction stuff that Jess gave you to bin? I text quickly, and press send, not hoping for or expecting a reply.

A minute later, as I am carrying my bag awkwardly down the stairs, my phone beeps with a message.

Yes. Is it yours?

'Is it yours'. Not 'WAS it yours'. Does this mean she still has it? Not that it matters. Either way, Jess got rid of it because it was mine.

Yes it's mine, I reply. If you won't meet up with me would you at least post it to me? I'll cover the cost, obviously. 

I'm surprised it's still in one piece, I get back, moments later. I would have ripped it to shreds after what you did. 

Honestly, this girl. I take a deep breath before replying. Well either way it belongs to me so I would like it back please.

Her response is immediate. You should have thought of that before you shoved your dick up a stick insect in your New York hotel room. Prick. 

Well, that leaves me in no doubt of her feelings doesn't it? 

I decide not to rise to this deliberate attack, and instead shove my bag in the boot of the waiting car and manoeuvre myself into the back with difficulty. (This foot brace is the most unsexy thing ever.)

When I arrive at Babington House I text Georgia to let her know I am here, and we arrange to meet in the lounge for lunch and a drink. I pull on a shirt and a pair of skinnies, and cringe with embarrassment at the stupid boot attached to my leg. She keeps me waiting for ten minutes, but when she arrives she smiles shyly at me.

"Sorry I'm a bit late," she apologises in a gentle Kiwi accent. "I wanted to make an effort."

"You look lovely," I say sincerely, because she does - she is an attractive girl, with soft brown curls, big eyes and full lips, and she is wearing a tight black dress that compliments her slim figure.

"Thank you," she smiles. "You look pretty hot yourself."

I smile back a little uncomfortably, and she takes a seat opposite me.

"What's that on your leg?" she asks, pointing to the boot.

"Ah," I reply, smiling self consciously. "I got a little exuberant on stage yesterday. I snapped my accessory navicular in my foot, so I've been told to wear this."

"Sounds painful," she remarks, staring down at it.

"Yeah, it was," I admit. "I've got painkillers though. And I can take it off for showers and stuff. I won't have to wear it for long. Anyway - how did your photo shoot go?"

Georgia launches into a full description of the shoot, from the location to the clothes to the poses to the crew. She is very animated and expressive with her hands, and the confidence she previously displayed over text is obvious in the flesh, too. She is easy to talk to, and the conversation flows naturally over lunch and into the afternoon. She is a nice girl, even if she is constantly taking pictures of anything and everything on her phone (for Snapchat, apparently), but I still find my guard is up around her and I am holding back slightly, eager not to give too much of myself away. We share a bottle of wine, and although this loosens my tongue a little and helps me to relax, I still can't quite connect with her. 

I'm trying really hard - I can't deny she is beautiful, funny and engaging. But something is lacking, and I can't quite put my finger on it. Then again, I can't expect to feel something deep and profound in the first hour of her company. That's only happened once before, and - well, you know where we are currently with that one. 

After we've finished the wine we decide to head to the Cowshed Spa for a massage. There are hundreds of different treatments available, and it is nice to relax in a warm room with scented oils and soft music. I feel a little vulnerable at first, stripping down to my underwear on a first date when it isn't for that reason, but I'm soon too chilled out to care, and our conversation tails off as we both relax into the massages. By the time it is finished all I really want to do is get into bed and sleep for an eternity, but obviously that isn't an option. 

"Do you want to get another bottle of wine in the bar?" I suggest. "I could meet you there in half an hour? Or I have a private terrace in my room if you would prefer? We could enjoy the sunset over a drink?"

"Your room sounds great," she smiles, adjusting the neck of her complimentary dressing gown and drawing my attention to her chest. 

Fuck. I wasn't expecting her to take me up on that offer, and now I've made it I don't know how to retract it. It tripped off my tongue so easily, but without any real thought.

"OK," I nod, slowly. "Well, come over as soon as you're ready. I just want to have a quick shower."

"Great," she says, and she holds my gaze for longer than necessary as she turns and walks out of the room.

My heart is pounding nervously. She is obviously up for some fun, but is that really what I want? I haven't had sex in fucking ages, and I've been so frustrated that even just thinking about it is getting me semi-hard. I don't want to mess her around, though. Why do I get myself into these situations? I never learn.

I scoot quickly across the courtyard to my room and dive into the shower to wash off the residue of the massage oil. I throw on the dressing gown that was neatly folded on the bed, attach my foot brace to my leg, and am just dragging a brush through my hair when there is a knock at the door. Georgia is standing there holding a bottle of wine and two glasses, wearing the same dressing gown as before. Objectively speaking, she is a knock out. But has she really just walked across the gravel wearing next to nothing? I mean, I know this is a spa but even so...

"Come in," I greet her, standing to one side to let her into my room, and as she steps inside she catches my eye for a moment and smiles coyly. On impulse I lean down to give her a kiss on the cheek, and she turns her face to meet my lips with hers. I'm not sure if it's an accident or deliberate, but her lips are soft and I find myself lingering for a moment, trying this out. It feels strange to be kissing someone other than Jess, to be quite honest. 

We break apart and she beams at me, and raises her eyebrows cheekily as she slips past me and I close the door behind her.

"Wow, nice room," she comments, as she sets the bottle and the glasses on the small table.

"Thanks," I reply, running my hand through my hair. "Come in, have a seat."

We sit down on the little sofa and before I can say a word the bottle of wine is open and she is pouring us a glass each. 

"So, I didn't see any point in getting dressed again if we were just going to chill out in your room," she says, gesturing to her outfit. I try not to stare at the exposed flesh, but it's difficult when her breasts are almost on show.

"Yeah, that's cool," I mutter, eventually looking away and picking up my drink. "We can order dinner from room service whenever we want."

"Do you have a menu?" she asks.

"Um, yeah, somewhere," I reply, and I grab one from the table.

We spend a few minutes looking over the options, but somehow the conversation feels a little stilted, and not as relaxed as before. Maybe the effects of the wine are wearing off. I take a large gulp of mine, and then lean forward to top up our glasses. 

"So... tell me about New Zealand," I begin. "It's a beautiful place. Whereabouts are you from?"

My tactic works, and she launches into another animated description of her home country, which leads into a conversation about her childhood. She has a vibrant personality, and it is hard not to get caught up in her whirlwind of conversation, yet there is still something missing. I let my mind wander back to our brief kiss when she arrived at my door, and although it was a nice kiss, it didn't leave me wanting more; not like every other kiss with Jess... 

This is terrible. I shouldn't be comparing the two girls - it is not fair to either of them, or myself. 

Yet still I find my thoughts wandering back to Jess repeatedly, wondering what she would think if she knew I was here with Georgia, whether she would be happy that I am trying (unsuccessfully) to move on, whether she would be upset that I'm lounging around in my dressing gown with another girl with the prospect of sex certainly on the cards.

"Harry?"

"Huh?" I am jolted back to the present at the sound of my name.

"I asked if you wanted a top-up."

Georgia is smiling at me, her perfect white teeth almost blinding me, her eyes sparkling.

"Oh, um, yes please."

"You were miles away," she remarks as she pours the remainder of the bottle into our glasses.

"Sorry," I apologise sincerely. "I was being very rude. I've got a lot on my mind at the moment."

"Anything I can help with?" she offers, gazing at me with those enormous blue eyes.

"Um, no, I don't really want to talk about it," I reply uncomfortably.

"Oh, well that's OK," she says softly, and she stands up and sashays towards me in a manner that can only be described as deliberately seductive. "Talking is boring anyway. There are plenty of other things we can do."

My stomach flutters as she perches delicately on my lap, her eyes hooded and her expression intense.

Oh, fuck. I know where this is going. And I really don't know what to do.

Before I can articulate a reply, she leans towards me, placing one hand delicately on my chest, and gently presses her lips to mine. I let it happen, pushing away my doubts and trying hard to feel open-minded about this. She is a beautiful and funny girl, who is clearly attracted to me and wants to have some fun, and I'm kind of into it. Why am I even considering turning her down? I have no reason not to enjoy myself with her, to live in the moment, to move on like Jess wants. 

So maybe it's about time I did.

---***---

I had to split this chapter as it was bordering on 8000 words which was far too long, so the second part will follow as soon as I get chance to edit it! 

Sorry for the absence lately - for those of you who follow me and have seen my latest post, you'll know I have been otherwise occupied with a new house and a new baby! :) I'm trying my best to find time to write, but it is difficult with a newborn and boxes to unpack. I will be continuing to update all my books, so please bear with me (updates might be slow for the foreseeable future). 

Thanks for sticking with me and reading this. Don't forget to vote if you liked the chapter, and if you want, leave me a comment to say hi :) xx