(No Control | Holding Me Ransom - 93 - Point Of No Return) 

The volume of the party seems to have risen in the few seconds since Callie walked out. I turn to Jess. She looks lost. 

"Jess?" I begin gently. "Baby? Are you OK? Are we OK?"

She shakes her head, muttering a couple of indistinct words so I take her arm and lead her to the sofa under the back of the stairs where we had sat last time and let her take a few moments to clear her thoughts. 

"You should have told me," she says finally. "You shouldn't have kept this from me."

"I did it to protect you," I murmur. "And a little part of me was afraid she would turn you against me if I put a foot wrong."

"Do you really think my feelings for you are that easily influenced?" She stares into my eyes. "Surely the past year has proved where my loyalties lie." 

I don't want to inflame the sitution so I choose my words carefully and speak in a soft tone. 

"Yes... but you also chose to look after Callie over New Year, when you knew how much I wanted you to come away with me. You are fiercely loyal to everyone you love, Jess. I would never presume that was exclusive to me." She considers this for a moment. "Callie was right about one thing: she has been there for you through thick and thin," I point out. "As much as I disliked her for how she was behaving towards me, she was still doing it out of concern for you; albeit a sick and twisted interpretation."

I watch as Jess covers her face with her hands. I can't believe this has all come to a head tonight, of all nights. 

"I'm sorry if you feel I've betrayed you too," I mutter. "I honestly didn't know what to do for the best. I didn't want you to fall out with Callie over me. She's your best friend, and I didn't want you to lose her. But I was also afraid of losing you myself. And in the end, she realised she had been a living nightmare. She gave me all your stuff, retrieved your pictures from your icloud, helped get you here tonight, and tipped me off when she realised you were planning a surprise for me, so that my surprise for you wasn't ruined."

"Yet she managed to ruin tonight anyway," Jess laughs shortly.

"Yeah, well. I did try to stop her from shooting her mouth off, but she wasn't to be silenced. I won't deny I'm pretty pissed off about her timing."

"Would you have ever told me, if she hadn't?" 

She probably isn't going to like my answer but I have to tell the truth. 

"Honestly? Probably not unless she'd started playing games again, or holding me to ransom. In which case yes, I would have told you everything myself. I was wary of her at first, when she started helping me. But I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, and in the end she came clean herself. I suspect her own guilt was eating away at her."

"I'm so, so sorry for what she put you through," Jess sighs wearily. "You didn't deserve any of that. She had no right to control you the way she did, and I can't believe you went along with it for so long."

"I wanted to do this for you." I gesture around the room. "The more she made me work for it, the more determined I became. I wasn't trying to be underhand in keeping it from you. I was doing it with the best intentions."

"I know," she nods, and as I smile at her she leans into my embrace, her arms sliding around my neck.

"I'm sorry," I apologise again. "I'm sorry for not telling you, and I'm sorry for taking my frustrations out on you at times, when it all got on top of me. And I'm sorry that our anniversary was spoilt by all of this."

She plants a soft kiss on my lips. "It hasn't been spoilt. I shouldn't have said that. This whole thing is absolutely perfect."

"No, that's you," I smile, and she smiles back, looking happier than she did five minutes ago. "And do you realise we're making no attempt to keep our relationship under the radar anymore?" I point out. 

"I don't care if you don't," she shrugs. 

"You know I don't," I whisper, kissing her again, my stomach dancing with excitement and anticipation.  "What do you say we get out of here? Can I tempt you to accompany me to a club? I hear there's a great little place called Lagoon, not too far from here. It's very discreet."

"Lagoon," she repeats, eyeing me playfully. "I may have been there before."

"You may indeed," I agree, fighting a smirk. "I took a girl there once, bought her a bottle of Dom Perignon and showed off some of my dance moves. She was putty in my hands."

"Yes she was," she acknowledges with a grin. "She still is." 

I'll never tire of hearing that.

"Come on," I smile. "I'll call a car."

As I'm on the phone to Paul who is only parked around the corner, I hear part of Jess's conversation with Calvin and Maddie as they're leaving. From what I can gather, Calvin is taking care of Callie for the evening which I hope will alleviate some of Jess's unnecessary guilt, although I can see from her face that she is worried about the witch. 

"Do you want to talk to her?" I ask as I end the call with Paul.

"No," she answers decisively. "I want to celebrate this evening with you, and think about everything else later. Tomorrow, maybe. Next week - next year, even. Definitely not now."

She bends down to pick up the gift bag with all tonight's souvenirs inside, and I wonder if maybe tonight has been a bit eventful and overwhelming, and Lagoon might not be what she needs right now.

"We don't have to do this tonight," I offer.

"Yes we do," she counters, in the same tone. "And I want to. Our relationship means the world to me, Harry. Tonight is about us, and no one else. Nothing is going to come between us anymore."

I feel a strange sense of relief at her words, followed by a stab of guilt that my victory has come at the cost of Callie's loss. I take a moment to remind myself that Callie brought this on herself. 

My phone vibrates in my hand with a text from Paul. 

Outside now. 

I pick up my laptop that I used for the slideshow, say goodbye to our friends and head out of the front door and down the drive towards my car which is waiting with its lights on and engine running. The night air is cool and warmth of the car is welcome as we slide into the backseat, just like we did a year ago today. Paul grins at us over his shoulder. 

"Lagoon?"

"Please," I nod.

"Will there be paps outside?" Jess asks, fastening her seatbelt and tucking her hair behind her ear. 

"Very possibly," I ponder. "Is that a problem?"

"Not at all." 

I watch as she pulls a small mirror from her bag and touches up her makeup as we drive through the streets of London, hidden from view thanks to the darkened car windows. 

"You look incredible," I assure her as she inspects her eyelashes and dabs at an imaginary imperfection on her cheek.

"Do I look pap-worthy?" 

"I repeat, you look incredible," I insist. "But just keep your head down if you want and I'll guide you to the door." 

"No. I don't want to hide my face," she replies. "If there are paps there, I want to walk in with you, if that's what you want, too." 

"You know it is," I smile softly at her. "Are you sure? It will set the rumour mill off again."

"So let's leave everyone in no uncertainty, so it won't be just a rumour." She says this with such defiance and conviction that I can't help grinning. 

I'm ready. And I think she is, too. But I have to be sure that she is sure.

"You know there's no going back," I tell her. "Are you ready to break Twitter?" 

She doesn't even bat an eyelid. "Yes. You're not going to change my mind. I've had a year's experience of being linked to you. I know I struggled with it for a long time, and I'm sure there will be times in the future when I will struggle with it again. But I'm not perfect, and I don't claim to be; I've never claimed to be. I'll handle it the best way I can." 

"OK," I nod. "You don't need to convince me anymore. Let's do this, Jessie Braddy. One year to the day we were pictured for the first time."

I can't actually believe we're doing this. My heart is beating wildly in my chest at the thought of the paps. 

"You know your fans will be straight onto that," she laughs. "We really will break Twitter." 

As we approach Lagoon and slow down, a flutter of nerves and excitement rolls through my stomach. I haven't felt this way about facing photographers in a long time. The camera flashes begin the second the paps see the number plate.

Paul gets out and opens the passenger rear door to let Jess out first and I make sure I am immediately behind her, my hand on her back while I shut the door. She seems to take this as an instruction to wait for me, and instinctively laces her fingers into mine as we walk up to the entrance, ignoring the frenzy of the paps who can't believe this story has just landed in their laps out of nowhere. They are shouting their usual instructions and questions but despite the incessant flashing from their cameras, Jess keeps her face impassive and looks straight forward. 

"You OK?" I murmur in her ear as the bouncers nod and stand aside. 

"Of course," she murmurs back, without even moving her lips. 

It's hard not to panic when presented with a situation like that. The photographers are usually all men, often big and burly, with no respect for personal space. They are intimidating, rude and can be aggressive and forceful in the midst of the frenzy, all pushing and jostling for prime position and the best picture. Although she says she is fine, I can tell by her fast breathing that she is nervous, and I give her hand a gentle squeeze as we approach the bar. There are only a few people here so a private booth is available, and we take our bottle of Champagne, two flutes, and slide into the corner out of sight. 

I'm aware of Jess's eyes on me as I pour our drinks, and when I lift my eyes to meet hers I get the familiar jolt of electricity that makes my insides tingle. We toast ourselves, discuss the possibility of fans waiting for us when we leave, and laugh at the thought of the paparazzi excitedly sending preview images, as we speak, to the various media outlets and naming their prices for the exclusive. 

"Remember we saw James Corden in here?" Jess muses, looking around the room with twinkling eyes. 

"I do," I grin. "I was trying my best to act cool and impress you, and then he turned up and took the piss out of me and made me look like a complete prat." 

She laughs delightedly at this. "A complete prat? Seriously? Not how I remember it." 

"Oh really? How do you remember it then?" 

"I remember thinking I must be dreaming," she says, her gaze returning to mine. "I'd only met you a couple of hours before, I was in a permanent Harry Styles moment, and it just didn't feel real." 

"Ah, the good old Harry Styles moments," I chuckle. "I haven't heard about them for a while." 

"They happen less frequently now," she smiles. "But they still catch me off guard occasionally."

I tilt my head questioningly at her. 

"Just like, I'll be driving along in the car or something and a One Direction song will come on the radio and I just have this sudden moment of realisation, like that's my boyfriend! And then I sort of have this little moment of self-doubt, like did I dream all of this? Is it actually happening? And then I confirm that yes, it is real, my boyfriend is Harry Styles, mega star, singer-songwriter, heartthrob... it's sort of like I still fangirl over the Harry Styles in the media and get giddy at the mention of his name, but when I'm around you, you're just my Harry. Does that make sense?" 

I'm beaming stupidly at her words. "Out of every Harry I could be, my favourite one is being just your Harry." 

"Well that makes two of us then," she says with a nod of satisfaction, clinking her glass against mine again and taking a sip of Champagne. The bartender appears with two small plates of complimentary canapés and I reach for one hungrily. It feels like hours since I last ate, and knocking back Champagne on an empty stomach is probably not the best idea. I share this notion with Jess, who chuckles.

"I definitely don't want you to be throwing up in the back of the car," she teases. "I'm not holding your hair back for you." 

"Rude," I huff. "I was actually more concerned about keeping a clear head for later." 

"In case there are loads of fans outside?" she asks. 

"Well, that too," I concede, leaning in to her and lowering my voice. "But more so that I can throw you on the bed when we get back and make you come really hard." 

Her eyes flick to mine, a grin pulling at the corner of her lips as she raises one eyebrow. 

"Is that so?" 

"We are recreating the night we met," I point out smoothly. 

"Yes, I do believe we are," she agrees. "I suppose it would be churlish of me to try and resist your charms tonight of all nights." 

"You put up enough of a fight the first night," I remind her. 

"Ha!" she laughs. "The fight was more with myself than with you." When I look at her questioningly she continues," Well, you know I didn't do one night stands. My morals were clashing with my desire. I wanted you, but I didn't want to be another notch on your bed post. I didn't want to be a girl who abandoned her morals when it suited her, just because her dream guy clicked his fingers." 

"Dream guy?" I repeat, grinning with all my teeth showing and batting my eyelashes at her. 

"Oh stop fishing for compliments," she scolds. "We've had this conversation before. You know how I felt about you before we'd even met. I told you when you turned up at my mum and dad's house that time." 

"I don't think I can quite remember the details," I frown, tapping my finger against my chin, and she flicks my arm impatiently. 

"You are so infuriating." 

"At least I don't have a brother waiting to kill anyone who looks at me the wrong way," I tease. "Do you know how terrifying that was, turning up at your house and meeting Calvin for the first time?" 

"At least he's warmed to you," she offers.

"Agreeing not to kill me is not the same as warming to me," I joke, although in all seriousness I am more than relieved that Calvin seems to be accepting our relationship now. I mean, I'll always be terrified of him, but I'm glad we can be civil while I am terrified. 

Jess is shaking her head and grinning. "I'd love to assure you that Calvin is a pussy cat really, but we both know I'd be lying." 

Pussy cat? Sabre toothed tiger is more like it. 

"Nah, your family are cool," I tell her. "Your mum welcomed me from the start. And your dad... well, let's just say I'll never forget the conversation about teenage pregnancy rates, or the traffic lights on the A14."

"Oh God," Jess groans, closing her eyes and tilting her face to the ceiling. "Neither will I. The worst part is, those comments are tame compared to some of the Alan Bradshaw Classics we've heard over the years. Believe me, there will be plenty more to come. The traffic lights on the A14 are never far from my dad's thoughts."

The idea of more Alan Bradshaw Classics gives me a warm fuzzy feeling inside as I imagine future Christmases at the Bradshaw house, family gatherings where I might meet more Bradshaw family members (does Alan have a brother? There's a worrying thought) and generally just being part of this normal, cosy family. 

I order another bottle of Dom Perignon and more canapés are brought to our booth, and before we know it, the time is approaching midnight and we're both ready to leave. 

"Do you want to leave via the main entrance?" I ask Jess as she reaches for her bag. 

"Most definitely," she nods. "This has been the best evening ever. I want it to end on a high." 

"I'll ring Paul," I nod, and while I make the call Jess heads to the bathroom. She's back in record time, and as soon as I get the text from Paul, I give Jess the nod.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," she grins. 

I take her hand as we make our way carefully (we're both a little tipsy) down the stairs to the main door. Beyond the doorway, outside on the pavement, the paparazzi are still gathered along with maybe twenty or thirty girls who are standing in a huddle away from the main queue. Even through the triple glazed doors I can tell they are chattering excitedly, although the paps are looking fed up now, and are probably wondering if their waiting around for the last few hours has been worth it. There are twice as many of them as there were when we arrived. 

"You were right about the fans," I murmur to Jess.

"Yeah, I tipped them off on Twitter," she remarks casually.

"If you'd tipped them off there would be a lot more out there," I quip.

"They're actually here to see me," she retorts, which makes me laugh out loud.

"OK OK, you win that one." 

The bouncer nods, thanks us for coming and opens the door to the outside for us. 

The screams begin immediately. The paps surge forward, lifting their cameras and blinding us with their flashes, shouting at us to look up, to answer their questions, to stop for a second and chat. I lead the way, squeezing Jess's hand as she follows me, and ignore the deafening noise as we head to the car. 

The paps are more excited than I have ever seen them, and one particularly intrusive one gets right up in Jess's face and almost knocks her over. I whirl round, reminding myself to be polite and not call him a prick, and ask him as politely as I can not to bother my girlfriend. 

At the word 'girlfriend' the whole place erupts. The crowd of girls turns from enlivened to downright hysterical, and what can only be described as a roar emanates from the paparazzi, their flashes barely distinguishable and now represent one blinding light. 

Paul is waiting by the rear passenger door of the car, ready for us to jump into the back. I usher Jess ahead of me and let go of her hand just as she's about to get in. She pauses for a split second and turns her head to look at me. I know what she is thinking, and I know exactly what to do. We exchange the briefest smirk, before I slowly lean down, close my eyes and kiss her on the lips. 

On our terms, in our own time, in the place where it all began. 

---***--- 

Thank you for your patience! I can't believe it's been two months since the last update after I promised myself I would be better... but here we are, and I hope you enjoyed it. I have some more revising and editing to do on the next couple of chapters and will get them posted as soon as they are ready. Much love xxx