(No Control | Holding Me Ransom - 72 - Kisses Like Cream)

We head up the motorway the following morning to spend a couple of days with Jess's family in Cambridge: a sort of mini-Christmas, as we won't be seeing them on the actual day. I feel sort of guilty that Jess has to sacrifice time with her family but remind myself that she lives a lot closer to them than I do to Mum, and that I have spent a large portion of the last five years in a different continent to my loved ones. Jess doesn't seem to mind the arrangements though, and her mum and dad welcome me literally with open arms when we arrive. I can't deny I'm a little apprehensive of staying in their house, knowing her dad's view on us sharing a room. I haven't dared ask Jess what the sleeping arrangements will be and am somewhat relieved when her mum ushers us both upstairs to a room with a double bed and tells me to make myself at home. I still feel a little wary of her dad however, and within minutes of or arrival I remember exactly why.

"How the tour going, Harry?" he asks as Jess and I settle on the sofa and he relaxes into an armchair that has the Daily Telegraph folded on one arm. 

"Oh, um, it's finished now," I reply. "But it went really well, thank you. It's nice to have a bit of time off, though."

"What is it you musicians do between tours?" he asks, tilting his glasses forward down his nose and surveying me over the top of them, one eyebrow raised. 

"Well, we're actually taking a break from the band at the moment," I explain. "We're having some time off to do our own thing, pursue our own interests for a bit."

"Is that a modern day way of saying you're currently unemployed?"

"Alan," comes the warning tone of Jess's mum as she brings a tray laden with a teapot, tea cups, spoons and a sugar bowl.

"Um, well, I suppose you could put it that way," I stumble. Heat rises in my face and my neck is unbearably itchy all of a sudden. How does he always manage to make me feel nervous and inadequate? "I'm hoping to sign a management contract in the next couple of weeks which will help me in my first steps into solo music, and possibly an acting role, all being well."

Hoping to sign? Oh shit, that sounded undeniably hopeless. I should have explained that the contract is in the bag, it's just for me to decide whom I want to represent me. But it turns out that a half-baked management contract is the least of Alan Bradshaw's priorities.

"Acting?" he repeats, his eyebrow lifting another inch. "I thought you were a singer?"

"Dad," Jess warns, in exactly the same tone as her mum.

"Yes, that's what I've been doing for the last few years," I reply. A trickle of sweat runs down my back. "But I think it's a good opportunity to explore a few different options, try out new things while I've got the chance."

"And will exploring new options pay the mortgage?" he asks, removing his glasses altogether and glancing back and forth between me and Jess. 

"Alan!"

"Martha, I'm simply making sure Harry and Jessica will be financially secure," he says evenly, punctuating his point with the arm of his glasses and looking directly at me. "They've just moved in together and now I'm finding out Harry has lost his job. It's all very well wanting to follow your dreams, be creative and find yourself - " (he actually draws air quotes while holding his glasses) " - but it doesn't pay the bills. The bank will be repossessing your assets if you can't keep up with your repayments -"

"Oh my God," Jess groans from beside me, and as Alan's gaze flicks to her face I take the opportunity to wipe the sweat off my top lip. "Dad - please be assured that Harry's financial position - and mine, I might add - is absolutely fine and doesn't need to be discussed in the Bradshaw family living room. And Harry hasn't lost his job. The band decided to go their separate ways for a while - it was their mutual decision."

"Alan, come and help me with the biscuits."

"Martha, I'm just in the middle of a conversation -"

"Now, Alan!"

With a sigh, Alan stands up, slides his feet into his slippers and pads out of the room into the kitchen. The door closes firmly behind him.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Jess moans, her head in her hands. "I don't know what's wrong with him. He has no filter."

"It's fine," I chuckle.

"You're sweating," she points out. "And I don't blame you. He has a knack for making everyone who comes to the house feel like they're under some sort of interrogation. He's always been the same. Once, when I was about thirteen, we had a door-to-door salesman turn up selling tea towels and dusters out of a holdall. My mum invited him in, went to make him a cup of tea and left him in the lounge with my dad. By the time she came back with the teapot the poor bloke was like a broken man. My dad was going on about pyramid schemes, business plans and invoice factoring. He probably walked out of our house and went straight into therapy. And I swear to God, no cold callers ever came to our house again after that. It was as if word had got out that 16, Ashbury Drive was to be avoided at all costs."

Through the closed kitchen door, Martha and Alan's voices are filtering gently. 

"Alan, you can't go asking people personal questions like that! I don't know why you always do it!"

"Martha, I am entitled to ask questions when it pertains to the welfare of my eldest daughter. Jessica has only just moved in with Harry and now he's telling me he's not even lost his job, but he's actually quit?! Who walks away from a steady income in this day and age? Jobs aren't ten a penny like they were in our day. I don't want Jessica to end up not only supporting some pipe dream but also paying his mortgage just to keep a roof over their heads!"

"Oh Alan!" Martha hisses. "Not that I wish to gossip or speculate but Harry isn't in some struggling musician in some tinpot college band. Have you ever actually read anything about One Direction? They are world-famous multi-millionaires. They don't play weddings, or Friday night open mic nights at the local pub! They've played at Wembley Stadium for heavens' sake!"

There is a pause, in which Jess and I exchange weary looks.

"Wembley Stadium?" Alan repeats.

"Yes!" There is more than just a hint of exasperation in Martha's voice. "And more to the point, do you really think that your university graduate daughter is stupid enough to let anyone take her for a ride? She will have made sure that she and Harry have an equal relationship, and I will go so far as to say I don't think Harry would accept anything less, either. He treats her well, Alan, and he makes her happy. He's polite, well-mannered and above all he's a gentleman. Instead of interrogating the poor lad, why don't you make an effort to get to know him? I bet he dreads coming here and being subjected to the third degree!"

"I am trying to get to know him!" Alan is protesting, but he knows and I know that this conversation is coming to a close.

"Handing out unsolicited financial advice and picking apart every answer he gives you does not qualify as getting to know him. Now take this plate of biscuits, go back in there and start acting like a normal human being instead of a stuffy old fart!"

Jess snorts beside me and claps a hand over her mouth as the kitchen door opens and Alan re-enters the room looking slightly abashed. I feel my nostrils flare as I struggle to hold in a laugh, while Alan sheepishly sets a plate of biscuits down on the coffee table and Martha appears behind him with a beaming smile. "Chocolate digestive, anyone?"

~~~

Of course, the wonder that is Alan Bradshaw is nothing compared to the terror that is Calvin Bradshaw. All the following day I am on tenterhooks waiting for Jess's older brother to arrive and the onslaught to begin. Thankfully (although I feign disappointment) he doesn't get here until almost six o'clock, and there is barely time for a greeting and a handshake (which I swear is accompanied by a menacing look) as Calvin heads straight up for a shower. By the time he comes down again, Martha is dishing up a small Christmas dinner and we are ushered through to the dining room to take our seats. As the awkward Dad Questions are already out of the way thanks to yesterday's uncomfortable conversation, I am able to enjoy this meal without the stress of making good first impressions. Calvin appears to be on his best behaviour, and I could even be forgiven for thinking he might be starting to accept our relationship as he has bought me a bottle of Chateau Musar for Christmas and says nothing when Jess and I call it a night just before midnight and head up to bed together (although I'm sure I caught his eyelid twitching in the firelight. Jess, of course, tells me I am imagining things).

Jess is tipsy off all the red wine and port, and of course totally relaxed in her own environment, which is lovely to watch. What is even lovelier is when she returns to the bedroom after brushing her teeth, slides a tiny bolt-lock across the door to secure it and begins to peel off her jumper to reveal a deep red satin bra that leaves little to the imagination, and wearing a smirk that reveals exactly what her intentions are.

"What's all this about?" I murmur softly as she slides her jeans down her legs, steps out of them and climbs onto the bed to straddle me.

"Well, seeing as we had Christmas dinner part one, I thought maybe you would like Christmas present part one," she whispers.

"I love Christmas present part one," I confirm, sliding my hands up her sides and cupping her breasts in my hands. The satin feels amazing beneath my fingertips and I smile as she gently grinds down against me. 

"We'll just have to be really, really quiet," she adds unnecessarily, as though I have forgotten that her slightly unhinged brother, and father with the bat-like hearing, are both downstairs.

That doesn't stop me from making her come. Twice.

~~~

We head up to Mum's on Wednesday morning and I'm really looking forward to hanging out with some of my old school friends that evening. I'm in two minds whether to invite Jess along, and while part of me wants nothing more than to introduce her and show her off, I also crave some male bonding and long for a chance to reminisce about high school and catch up with everyone's news. As it turns out, Mum and Gemma have planned a festive evening with Jess and she is just as excited about that as I am about seeing my friends. 

I am not bothered about drinking that evening, preferring to keep a clear head and enjoy my friends' company sober. Of course, they want to hear all about the band, the tour, the media rumours, Jess, Sara and everything else in between. I'm a little guarded, and keep some of the details to a minimum (especially about me and Jess, but only out of loyalty to her and keeping our relationship private) but can't resist showing them some photos of Jess on my phone and they all gather round to see, commenting on how hot she is and how she is obviously way out of my league.

"How come you're not friends with her on Facebook?" my friend Jonny asks. 

"We were, but we split up for a while and sort of broke all social media contact," I admit. "I haven't really thought about connecting in that way again."

"Too cool for Facebook," Jonny teases, side-eyeing me and grinning at the others.

"Ah, shut up," I grin back. "She doesn't follow me on any platform." 

But he carries on: "Too cool for Twitter, too cool for Instagram..."

"I'm not too cool for it, I just don't like letting strangers have any access to my private life," I begin as Jonny continues:

"Has a team to run all his social media accounts."

The others chuckle and he grins at me as I roll my eyes good naturedly.

"I'm just teasing," he adds. 

"I know," I nod. "But seriously, if I ever start sounding like a twat, please tell me."

"You sound like a twat," he says immediately, and I flick a Dorito at him as the others fall about laughing. It's like being on tour, being the butt of everyone's jokes like this.

But it has got me thinking, and on the drive home I ponder the notion of Facebook, and how although I don't use it very often, it would be nice to have that connection with Jess. It would be even nicer if she followed me on Twitter again, or Instagram. 

The thought pops in my head again the following morning when she is sitting on the edge of the bed, fresh out of the shower and scrolling through her Twitter feed. I sip my tea thoughtfully, wondering how best to broach the subject tactfully without charging right in like a bull in a china shop.

"When are you going to follow me again?" I ask.

Oh come on, it's me. Since I met Jess, we all know I don't do tact.

She looks up at me, about to answer, and then hesitates. "Um, I hadn't really thought about it."

That's definitely a fib. Her foot is jiggling nervously. I can read her like a book. I look down at my tea, thinking I should probably just shut up but I carry on anyway.

"I was just thinking maybe it's time you did. We're back together, things are great, and we're serious."

"Yes," she replies, her head cocked to one side, "but that's near enough a public declaration of our relationship. I thought we'd agreed to wait a while before we announced ourselves to the world?"

"Are you worried I'm going to hurt you again?" I ask bluntly, staring into her eyes, watching her intently for any indication of her true feelings on the matter.

"No of course not," she answers, without hesitation this time. "But I do want to enjoy the small amount of privacy we have left before every move we make comes under public scrutiny. Like your mum said, once we've gone public it will never be private again. Everything will change. I don't know if I'm ready to share that part of our life yet."

It's a fair point, and one I keep forgetting. Being in the public eye has become part of my life now. I forget that Jess still has her anonymity, and understandably doesn't want to give it up.

"OK," I nod. "Sorry for putting pressure on you."

"You didn't," she smiles. "You apologise way too much. And it's not like you tweet anything exciting anyway. There's nothing of interest to see."

"Ha!" I bark, chucking a pillow in her face. "How would you know if you don't follow me?"

"I have an obligatory stalk every now and again," she admits.

"Creep," I accuse, and then feel brave and ask, "Will you at least accept my friend request on Facebook? You know, after you callously deleted me."

"You haven't sent me one," she responds, frowning slightly despite my grin. "And I can't request you, because I can't even see you - you know you're invisible to everyone."

I grab my phone before she can say another word, open Facebook, find her profile and tap Add Friend. A second later, a notification appears on my screen: Jessica Bradshaw has accepted your friend request.

"Oh my God," I mutter, leaning forward theatrically to scrutinise her face. "Are you alright? Do you need to lie down? Is this moving too fast?"

"Shut it Styles." She pushes me gently in the chest and I flop backwards in bed, chuckling under my breath before pushing the covers back, standing up, puffing my chest out and strutting into the bathroom, feeling like a stud because my girlfriend is now my Facebook friend. The grin is still on my face ten minutes later when I emerge again and find her dressed and perched on the edge of the freshly made bed, smirking at her phone screen.

"What are you smiling at?" I ask, and when she doesn't answer I stride over to her to tickle her into submission before I catch sight of my own Facebook profile on her screen as she hurriedly tries to tuck her phone out of sight. "Busted. You were Facebook-stalking me."

"Was not." She's bright red. She's so funny.

"Yeah you were," I tease. "Careful you don't accidentally like any of my pictures."

"I was just thinking," she begins, her voice suddenly serious and with the faintest tremor, "that I would like to be in a relationship with you on Facebook. One day." I can feel my heart rolling over slowly in nervous excitement. "Maybe," she adds hastily, and I catch the vulnerability in her tone and can't resist the opportunity to take the piss out of her.

"Oh," I answer, playing for time.

"Yeah," she mutters, looking down at the bed covers and refusing to meet my eyes.

"Wow," I begin, softly. "Um, I don't really do Facebook relationships..." My nostrils flare from the effort of trying to keep my face straight. She looks up at me in horror for a split second and then her face relaxes and she shoves me hard at the same time that my laughter breaks.

"You're an arse," she declares, standing up from the bed as I flop around in hysterics. I can't believe I got her so good. It was just too good and opportunity to pass up. I try to grab her hand but she pulls her hand away, the corners of her mouth twitching. "No," she says. "Sod off."

This only makes me laugh harder. "Oh stop being grumpy," I berate her in delight. "I would love to be in a Facebook relationship with you too. Just say the word."

"Arse," she says bluntly. "There's a word." This sets me off into hysterics again.

"You are so wonderfully indignant when I take the piss out of you. It's so endearing," I grin, standing up and catching sight of the bag of Christmas presents that I wrapped so carefully the other day, and thinking of the house key that lies among them. Since we have just taken such a drastic step of becoming friends on Facebook, maybe the opportunity to discuss moving in together will present itself before tomorrow. Perhaps Christmas Eve would be the perfect, most romantic time to suggest it.

"So... I was thinking maybe I could take you for a Gingerbread latte in the village later on, with it being Christmas Eve and all," I begin, and before I can try and sell it to her any further she is nodding with enthusiasm. "Good," I nod, pleased that she is up for this idea and already wondering whether I can work the conversation around while we are strolling round the village. "It will be good to have some time to ourselves," I muse.

After a snack lunch we set off into the village and park at the back of the Co-op. I have a beanie hat to cover my hair which will hopefully grant me some anonymity. As Jess climbs out of the car I pull the hat down further over my ears and catch sight of my reflection in the shop window. I'm stooping, so instantly I straighten up and look over at Jess.

"Do I look really conspicuous?" I mutter.

"You look like Harry Styles, if that's what you mean," she answers and I tut because I thought exactly the same thing when I saw myself.

"There's a gift shop I'd like to pop into first, if you don't mind," I tell her, leading up the main road towards a little side street. "My mum loves it, and they always have really unique stuff."

But I am disappointed to discover that The Village Lantern, one of Mum's favourite little artisan shops, has closed. All the stock has gone from within, there are a few papers lying forlornly on the mat inside the door and a layer of dust covers the empty shelves along the walls. I can't believe it. It was still here last time it was home. I feel strangely lost at this discovery.

Jess slips her arm through mine and I look down at her. "I didn't know it had gone," I murmur. "So much changes while I'm away, and I don't realise it."

"That's true of anywhere," she reasons, gently. "People grow older, move away, move on. Nothing stays the same forever."

She is trying to make me feel better, I know, but I am struck by a sudden irrational fear that one day, if I stay away too long, she will do the same.

"You won't move on from me, will you?" I ask before I can stop myself. "While I'm away, I mean. I'm never in one place long enough, it seems..." 

I feel stupid for saying this. I sound like a needy child, not a twenty one year old adult.

"Of course not," she whispers softly, and rests her head against my bicep. "I don't think I ever could."

I take a deep breath, catching the scent of her tropical shampoo and relishing the familiarity. 

"You were away most of the year," she continues. "And even though we weren't together for a lot of it, I still couldn't move on. And I was really trying."

I rest my head on top of hers. "I love you," I whisper. "Thanks for not giving up on me. On us."

"I love you too," she says, lifting her head to kiss me gently. "And ditto. We've been through so much. I have no intentions of walking away now."

"Good," I smile. "I think I might fall apart if I lost you again." I'm not even exaggerating. The thought of losing her is just too painful to imagine.

"Well you're not going to," she says firmly. "Although, if I don't get my Gingerbread latte soon I might reconsider."

I smile in spite of myself and release her from my embrace. I had completely forgotten we were in public, although down a narrow side street when no one else is around doesn't really count I suppose. But I just felt so relaxed around her, that kissing her just felt natural. There was no instinct to hold back from her, no inclination to look over my shoulder before showing her any affection. 

"Come on then, woman. Let's head back to Costa. It's a good job you're not high maintenance."

Thankfully, Costa Coffee is only about half full, and everyone inside seems preoccupied with their own conversations and last minute Christmas shopping. The majority of the shops have now shut for the day and the village is beginning to slow down as people are starting to make their way home to their families. 

The house key is in the inside pocket in my jacket where I am extremely aware of it, and as we make idle chit chat my mind is racing, wondering if Costa Coffee is really the right place to bring up such a serious thing, and if I did and we were overheard, what the implications would be.

I am just chuckling at the way she closes her eyes when she eats something delicious, and wondering if I will ever pluck up the courage to ask her to move in with me, when my phone rings. It's Kendall, and it soon transpires that she is not happy, and it is all down to her boyfriend Jordan who has issues with the upcoming New Year holiday.

"Why?" I ask, wondering what this guy's problem is and why it is now suddenly my problem, on Christmas Eve when all I can think about is taking my relationship with Jess to the next level.

"Because we used to date, like, fifty years ago," Kendall is moaning.

"Doesn't he know I'm in a relationship?" I ask, feeling a little frustrated. "We're ancient history."

"Right. That's what I told him, but he thinks you're a womaniser and he doesn't trust you."

I pull a face across the table at this, and roll my eyes at Jess.

"Wow. OK. So what are you going to do?" I ask, feeling like I have to ask but actually not really caring about this guy's insecurity.

Kendall answers, but I'm not fully listening until I realise she is asking me a question.

"Is Jess OK with it? The holiday, I mean. She knows we're cool?"

"Of course! Things are amazing. Couldn't be better." I beam across the table at Jess, and she beams back, looking a little confused.

"Ugh. Gross," Kendall scoffs. "I don't know if I want to hang around you while you're this soppy and loved up. Might be better if I just gave it a miss altogether."

"Well that would be a shame," I reply, evenly. "I'd have no one to push in the water."

"You could push Jeff in."

We both laugh out loud at this. I imagine Jeff's reaction if I pushed him into the water. He definitely wouldn't be impressed, and would not take it well. "I'm not brave enough to do that," I admit. "He wouldn't speak to me for a week. Mardy git."

"Mardy what?" Kendall echoes in disbelief, and I realise this is not only an English word, but probably a Northern one at that. "What does that even mean?" she asks.

"Never mind," I chuckle. "Listen, I've got to go. I'm with Jess and we're having coffee."

Of course Kendall then wants to say hi to Jess which prolongs things further while they have a brief chat on my mobile, and then once they have finished I fill Jess in briefly on the Jordan situation. I almost start to complain about how much his insecurity is annoying me until I realise with an uncomfortable jolt that I have behaved exactly the same way over Jess going away with Adam.

"Does it bother you that she's going to be on the yacht too?" I ask, almost afraid of the answer.

Jess avoids my eye for a moment before she replies. "I suppose it's an unusual situation. I know a lot of people wouldn't allow their boyfriend to go away with his ex," she says. "But I trust you. And I've never been the controlling type. I would never stop you going."

She's a better person than me. But then I knew that anyway.

"I don't like the idea of you going away with Adam," I admit, now avoiding her gaze too and feeling ashamed. "It's only really occurred to me just now that I'm doing the exact same thing." I lift my head to look into her eyes. "Why didn't you say that, when I made a fuss about it the other day?"

"I didn't want to play tit for tat," she shrug. "I didn't want to get into a petty argument over something that really isn't an issue. I trust you, and you trust me. So we're both friends with our exes - so what? There's a reason they're exes, and a reason you and I are together."

I nod slowly, a million thoughts whirling in my mind. "Sometimes I take for granted just how much you keep me grounded."

"My bill's in the post," she quips, and I grin across the table.

"Well for what it's worth, I'm sorry for being childish," I apologise. "And you know you have absolutely nothing to worry about there - Kendall is like a sister to me. Nothing more."

She waves her hand impatiently. "Stop apologising. And I know. But you can make it up to me tomorrow by showering me with gifts and attention all day."

I laugh softly, thinking of the car and the house key and the other presents I have bought for her. "You've got yourself a deal, Jessie Braddy. Now come on, it's going dark. Let me walk you back to your chariot."

We exit Costa through the front door to the distant sound of carol singers up at the church, and head down the empty street back towards the car park. It's one of those moments where I feel like Just Harry, not Harry from One Direction, and relish the chance to stop her mid-stride and kiss her on the lips in the middle of the street in the darkness where everyone could see us but no one does. 

She is my world, and I can't wait for the future.

---***---

Woop woop! Finally, an update! I am so determined to complete this series, and in the back of my mind I know that NaNoWriMo will be coming up in November and nothing motivates me like having to write 50k words in one month. My aim is to get as many chapters as I can prepped before then, and use that motivation to finish this book. Wish me luck!! xx

PS - I just love writing Alan Bradshaw; I feel like he is every embarrassing parent that ever walked the earth, all rolled into one.