(No Control | Holding Me Ransom - 18 - Missing You Is All I'm Thinking About)

I attend a Fourth of July party in Malibu on Saturday, and for the first time in a couple of weeks I feel slightly brighter. Getting out of the house and being around my friends lifts my spirits long enough for me to forget my troubles and enjoy myself, even if it's only for a few hours.

I'm back in the studio the following day writing with John, Julian and Jamie. They're batting around a melody and some lyrics that we started writing months ago in Japan, that were temporarily shelved. I pull out my phone and take a moment to stare at my lock screen, into Jess's eyes, and lose myself in that moment of pure love, when everything was simple and untarnished.

"If you're lost just look for me, you'll find me in the region of the summer stars," Julian sings softly, strumming the chords on his guitar. "Damn, I can't find a bridge that works. It needs a smooth transition from the verse to the chorus."

"Walking in the Wind," I muse, voicing the title we had suggested for this song, and I am momentarily overcome with emotion as the words I have just uttered out loud perfectly fit the picture on my screen. Jess and I were literally walking in the wind that day. The photograph couldn't be more perfect; it could almost be a single cover, if we were ever to release it.

The lyrics, about losing and missing someone, are so relevant to the way I feel. It would be beautiful if it wasn't so heartbreaking. If I wasn't such a mess.

"Harry?" John is saying, and I realise I have been staring silently into space for an uncomfortable amount of time. "Are you OK?"

"Fine," I mutter. "Walking in the Wind. Are we settled on that title?"

Jamie shrugs. "It's up for debate."

"It needs to be that. It has to be that," I insist.

"Why?" Julian asks, looking up at me, his brow furrowed as he delicately picks out the melody on the strings of his guitar.

"Because it's perfect," I murmur, staring down at Jess's face again. "You will find me," I sing along to Julian's tune. "In places that we've never been... walking in the wind."

Here I am in body, in places Jess and I have never been together, yet in spirit I am back in Holmes Chapel with her at my side, on the bank of the River Dane, walking in the wind. Living in my memory. It's where I want to be, where I will always be, because it's the one place I am truly happy.

Fuck.

I press my lips together and swallow the lump in my throat.

"Harry?" John says again.

"Excuse me," I mutter, and stand up, my fingers pinching the bridge of my nose to disguise the beginnings of tears in my eyes at this unending feeling of loss. When am I going to get over this? Why can't I move on? It should be getting easier now, not harder.

"You wanna take a break?" Julian calls.

"I need to call it a day," I reply over my shoulder, and I scurry out of the studio, letting the door swing shut behind me as I make my way blindly down the corridor and outside to my car, shoving my sunglasses on.

A couple of paps are outside but as far as I can tell I manage to jump into the front seat before they get any decent shots of me, and I am out of the car park and onto the road before they have time to react properly. My phone rings just as I am pulling into my driveway, and I am surprised to see Kendall Jenner's name on the caller ID. I haven't heard from her in ages.

"Hey," I answer, with as much enthusiasm as I can muster considering my current emotional state.

"Woah. Who died?" she asks, dryly.

I pause for a second, just to shit her up.

"Harry? Fucķ, did someone actually die?" She sounds terrified.

I fake a sob, and there is a tense moment of silence on the other end of the line, before she says in a horrified tone, "Oh my God, seriously, did someone die? Fuck, I'm really sorry! Are you alright? I was just fuckıng with you..."

"Nah, no one died," I chuckle. "But that'll teach you not to be a sarcastic bitch."

"Fųck you. That was uncalled for," she says, tolerantly, and I laugh louder as I turn the engine off.

"How are you, stranger?" I ask.

"Better than you, from the sounds of things," she remarks. "What's up?"

"Nothing," I sigh.

"Right," she says sarcastically. "You wanna tell me about this 'nothing' over lunch?"

I hesitate. I haven't seen Kendall for months. It would be good to catch up. And although on one hand I am sick of talking about my pathetic situation, I kind of want an impartial perspective.

"OK," I agree.

"Well don't get too excited," she drawls, and I can almost hear the eye-roll.

"Sorry," I apologise. "I've had a shit few weeks. Lunch would be great."

"OK then!" she says brightly. "You wanna go somewhere discreet? I'm free Wednesday."

"Can we do Tuesday? I have rehearsals on Wednesday."

There is a pause. "I guess I can rework my schedule," she says. "Text me where to meet you and what time."

...

We meet at a quiet little café out towards Burbank where the paps are unlikely to be hovering, and I spend the first hour telling her the story of New York, Sara, Nadine and my break up with Jess. She had seen the media story about my hook up with Sara and the coverage of Jess' supposed reaction to it, but like anyone in the industry she knew to take it all with a pinch of salt. She is however horrified at the truth behind the articles, and listens in a stunned silence until I get to the end.

"I didn't know you were serious about her," she admits. "Jess, I mean."

"Yeah, I was. Then I had a wobble after I cheated, and thought I couldn't be in love with her if I'd been unfaithful."

"And now?" she asks, taking a dainty bite of her salad.

"And now... I'm just miserable. I need to stay away from her, because all I do is wreck her life. She deserves someone better than me. I'm no good for her."

"But you ended up sleeping with her again?"

"That was a mistake," I insist, trying to convince myself more than Kendall, because how can something that felt so right be wrong?

"But she must still have unresolved feelings towards you," Kendall points out. "What did she say when you told her about Nadine?"

"I, ah, haven't told her," I admit.

Her fork falls on her plate with a clatter. "What?"

"What's the point?" I sigh. "I don't deserve her. I put drugs above our relationship. What does that say about me?"

"Harry, you weren't to know what they would do to you," she argues. "You have to tell Jess. You owe her the truth."

Her words echo the sentiments that have been floating in my head for the past few days, but I shake my head stubbornly. I have to stick to my resolve to keep away from her. I have done enough damage. And she was so quick to think the worst of me, and jumped straight into Louis' arms. What does that say about her? About us? "No. We're better off staying away from each other."

Kendall looks at me for a moment, and then picks up her fork and tucks into her salad again. "Well, I think you're making a big mistake. It's my duty as your friend to tell you when you're being an ass. And guess what? You're being an ass."

"I'm not being an arse," I frown.

"Yeah you are."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm not!"

"Are!"

"Not!"

She grins at me and I can't help smiling back. "We'll agree to differ on this one. But mark my words, I'm right. I'm a woman. I always am."

"Ha!" I scoff. "We'll see."

"We sure will. And talk to Louis. The last thing you guys need is more friction in the band."

I sigh as her words hit home. I know I need to hear Louis out, and we are due in rehearsals tomorrow as the next leg of the tour begins on Thursday in San Diego. As much as I don't want to talk to him, I can't avoid him forever. The more time that elapses, the calmer I am feeling about it all, but I know I will be furious again when we rake it all up and I don't know if I can take any more emotional trauma. I'm mentally exhausted from it.

I toss and turn that night, and feel tired and irritable the following morning when I arrive at rehearsals. Louis approaches me cautiously and we exchange gruff pleasantries, but I turn away before he can bring up the subject of Jess. He seems to sense my mood and doesn't push the issue. We're due to add some more songs from FOUR to the setlist on this next leg of the tour, so we tighten up the harmonies and all come away feeling proud and prepared for the coming dates.

One thing I am not prepared for is falling arse-over-tit during our first performance, and there's nothing I can do but take it on the chin, and resign myself to the fact that I will be the butt of everyone's jokes for a while. Niall in particular thinks it's hilarious of course, as he always does when I fall foul of my own clumsiness, and his dirty laugh echoes around the stadium as the others soldier on, keeping the song together. I wonder what Jess will do when she hears about this.

No - don't think about that.

I get through the Santa Clara show and then we have a couple of days off before we're due in Seattle. I head into Beverly Hills with Lou Teasdale for lunch on Monday, and we've not long sat down when my phone rings. It's Karen.

"Hi Harry," she says briskly when I answer. "I don't suppose Louis is with you, is he?"

"No," I reply, a little too shortly.

She gives an irritated sigh. "He's gone off radar, and I don't want him involving himself in this latest Twitter scandal. You know what he's like when he gets carried away."

"What Twitter scandal?" I frown, catching Lou's eye, and she opens up Twitter immediately.

"There is a hashtag trending," Karen replies, wearily. "Zayn has no chill."

I laugh out loud at these words that sound almost foreign coming from Karen. I don't think she's ever used the words "no" and "chill" together in a sentence before. Ever.

"Doesn't he?" I laugh.

"No, that's the hashtag," she snaps, and I pull a face at Lou and prepare myself to be reprimanded. "Zayn has no chill is the hashtag."

I laugh harder at this, and Karen waits patiently until I've got myself under control again to explain that Zayn and Naughty Boy have had a public spat, with Zayn calling Naughty Boy a "fat joke" on Twitter and mocking him for being less famous. I'm not comfortable with this sort of thing, much less calling someone fat. I'm disappointed in Zayn.

"So I'm telling you in no uncertain terms that there is to be no comment from any members of the band or crew!" she scolds, as if I were about to jump feet first into this public brawl.

"You won't hear a peep out of me," I nod, smugly.

"Good. If you get to Louis before me, make sure you tell him the same thing," she instructs, and hangs up.

Lou and I then spend the next fifteen minutes scrolling through Twitter, reading the fans' reactions to Zayn and Naughty Boy, and laughing at their hysteria and hilarious tweets. There is overwhelming support for Louis on the back of it all, thanks to the drama back in May, and I can't help wondering again if Jess knows what's going down, and what she would do if she saw these tweets.

"You're thinking about her again, aren't you?" Lou says softly, putting her hand over mine. "You have that sad, faraway look in your eye," she explains when I look at her questioningly.

"Just remembering when she tweeted Zayn, calling him out over his attitude towards Louis," I sigh. I rest my elbows on the table and rub my face with both hands. "I fucķing miss her, Lou," I moan. "I miss her so much it hurts. Why can't I get over her? Why can't I move on?"

Lou watches me sympathetically for a moment, starts to say something, and then stops herself. I wait, and she says delicately, "Maybe you're not supposed to. Move on, I mean. Maybe you're supposed to sort it out."

"She hates me," I mumble into my fingers.

"I'll bet you half your bank balance she doesn't," she replies, immediately.

"You can have it," I say, flatly.

"I'll hold you to that!" she chuckles, and I smile begrudgingly. "I'm serious, though, Harry. She was head over heels for you. She deserves the truth."

"Kendall said the same thing," I admit.

"Well, Kendall's right," she declares with a satisfied nod. "I really think you should ring her."

Before I can answer, my phone beeps with a Twitter notification. My heart almost stops when I realise Jess has tweeted something, and then starts hammering furiously against my chest wall as I unlock my phone and open the tweet.

And then my whole world comes to a stop.

"What's up with you? You're as white as a sheet," Lou comments.

I stare numbly down at the tweet on my screen. It's a picture of Louis, looking smug. And Jess has posted it, along with the hashtag #ZAYNHASNOCHILL.

Just what the fucķ is going on between these two?