(No Control | Holding Me Ransom - 43 - So Many Words We're Not Saying)

We all head over to Marbury Park after breakfast the following day, and spend a couple of hours kicking leaves and pine cones along the paths and chatting about the band, the tour, and Liam and Sophia. Jess is shocked when I mention they seem to be on the rocks, and stares at the ground as we walk along in the stark sunlight.

"First Louis and Eleanor, then Zayn and Perrie, now Liam and Sophia," she muses, referring to the band break ups over the past few months. "What next?!"

"You're forgetting me and you," I mutter, staring at my feet and feeling awkward mentioning it, yet somehow unable to let it pass without making the point.

"I'm talking about long-term relationships, in the public eye," she elaborates. "We were never public."

I wonder where we would be now if we had gone public before I flew to New York. Would things have happened differently? Would I still have been tempted with drugs, or would the transition into a high-profile relationship have occupied all my energy? Or would I still have cheated, and humiliated Jess even more publicly; thus destroying our relationship beyond any form of repair, including this friendship-limbo we're attempting these days?

No point dwelling on all that now - it's too depressing to contemplate. 

"Is Liam OK?" she is asking.

"No, to be truthful," I admit with a sigh. "I think he's a bit torn. I actually think they've drifted apart but he doesn't want to admit it to himself. I dunno. I may be reading too much into it."

"I hope they work it out so they're both happy," she says softly, in strange a tone that suggests she can feel this situation on a personal level.

"Yeah, me too," I reply, hoping with all my heart that Liam can just get through the next eighteen shows without any major drama.

"Have you had any more thoughts about what you're going to be doing next year, on your break?" she asks after a moment. "Like, whether you're going to be over here or in America?"

"I've got loads of potential stuff I could do," I answer, noncommittally. "I still haven't finalised anything yet. I need to make some decisions soon, really. I'd definitely like to spend some time in LA, if only for the better weather. But I don't know about long term."

I'm not about to admit I am putting off making any decisions about next year until I know how things pan out with Jess. That would be sad, bordering on pathetic.

 "Why?" I ask.

"Just wondering," she mutters, and shoves her hands in her pockets. She's brought the shutters down, all of a sudden. What did I just say to provoke that reaction? Was it the LA comment?

"Would it be a problem, me being in LA?" I ask carefully, my stomach fluttering as I await her response.

"Of course not," she answers, without meeting my eye. "If that's where you want to be, you should go. Especially if there are loads of opportunities for you."

Damn. Not the answer I was hoping for. Although I didn't really expect her to throw herself at my feet and beg me to stay close to home. A little less encouragement for me to fly off to a different continent would have been nice, though.

I stare across the lake, a sinking feeling making its way to the pit of my stomach. I can make her flustered, and I can flirt with her all I want, but ultimately if she can't forgive the past there really is no hope for us. And if she's that unfazed by the idea of me spending next year in LA, she's obviously not on the same page as me regarding the future of our relationship. 

I shouldn't have pushed my luck last night on the sofa. I shouldn't have kissed her stomach, I should have just kept my distance like she keeps telling me. And maybe she's telling me to back off for a reason, and I've been too ignorant to listen, like she told me several months ago.

Maybe Louis was right - maybe we've been "friends" for so long that we can never get back to what we were. Are we just two ghosts of who we used to be, forging this semblance of friendship to avoid the inevitable parting of ways? We're the same two people, but maybe we've grown so far apart emotionally that our relationship is impossible to salvage.  

I swallow hard, feeling scared and alone all of a sudden, pulling the collar of my coat up to protect my neck from the chill of the wind. I've been so fixated upon winning Jess back, I haven't really stopped to contemplate the thought of a future that doesn't include her. And suddenly that future without her seems very real.

~~~~~

Mum makes a roast for lunch while Jess and I play cards in the lounge, and I enjoy winding Jess up for a bit by cheating unashamedly, to the point where she slams her cards down on the table and folds her arms, glaring at me.

"If you're going to cheat I'm not going to play."

"Lighten up," I chuckle.

"I don't like cheating," she snaps. "Calvin always cheats, and he thinks it's hilarious, too."

Actually, what's hilarous is how wound up she gets, even though she knows I am doing it deliberately to provoke a reaction from her, yet she falls for it every time. We bicker gently over the next few hands, and I can't help searching her face for some indication of how she is feeling inside - really feeling - but she's so casual with me that she gives nothing away. 

Or maybe she genuinely isn't feeling anything else, and it's time to admit defeat. 

I try not to dwell on my own negative thoughts, but they continue to play on my mind all through lunch, and into the game of Scrabble afterwards. The time seems to fly by, and all too soon I am heading upstairs to my room to grab a few bits together for tonight's second show in Manchester. As I am stepping out onto the landing Jess appears in the doorway to the guest room, her own overnight bag in her hand.

"You heading off now?" I ask.

"Yeah, I'll leave the same time as you," she confirms. "It'll take me a few hours to get home."

"Thanks for coming up this weekend," I say, awkwardly. "It was good to see you."

"It was good to see you too," she replies. "It's been fun, just hanging out."

"Yeah, it has."

Just hanging out.

Did she just friend-zone me? Fuck.

I try to mask the disappointment on my face and stare down at the carpet, trying to think of something else to say, but my mind draws a blank. 

Silence stretches awkwardly between us. It has never felt this uncomfortable before. 

I lift my head to look at her, and she is already looking at me, as though she is about to say something. She looks melancholy; regretful. Like she is nervous, and doesn't know how to say what she wants to say.

"You OK?" I ask. "You're looking at me weird." 

"Was I?" she laughs nervously, licking her lips. "Sorry."  

Oh God - she's going to tell me we're never going to be more than friends. I can feel it. I can sense the tension. I don't think I can do this.

"Come on," I say quickly, as she takes a deep breath. "My car will be here in a sec."

"Harry," she begins, but I pretend not to hear, focussing on the floor as I adjust my bag on my shoulder. I look up, waiting for her to walk down the stairs ahead of me, but she is just standing there staring at me. My heart begins to pound as I sense the break-up speech coming.

Before she can open her mouth, a car horn sounds at the front of the house and I almost sigh with relief. Dale. 

"That's for me," I tell her. "I have to go."

"OK," she says, with a rush of air as her body visibly deflates in front of me.

I know I'm a coward for avoiding the conversation, and I know it has to happen eventually, but I need some time to come to terms with it. Our break up literally broke me the first time around. I don't know how I will get over it the second time, even though we're not even together. The hope of reconciliation has been all that has kept me going these last couple of months. What will I do without that motivation? I clatter down the stairs, feeling indescribably numb all over.

I hug everyone goodbye in the hall and wait while Jess does the same, thanking Mum and Robin for having her, and promising to stay in touch with Gemma. I feel sick as I listen to their farewells, knowing in my heart it is for the last time. When Jess finally turns to me, and the others make themselves scarce, I arrange my face into a casual expression to hide the despair inside.

"I'll text you," I say, nonchalantly. "Or text me, whatever."

The doorbell rings and I am glad of the excuse to get this goodbye over with.

"Hurry up, H," Dale greets me. "You'll be late."

"I'll walk you to your car," I say to Jess, and she picks up her bag and follows me out onto the driveway. 

This is so awkward. I feel like a buffoon, with nothing of relevance to say. There is a wall between us, that both of us have built, and that neither of us can knock down. The bricks are Sara Sampaio, Nadine Leopold, drugs, lies and secrets. I look down at her, trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat.

"Take care," I say stupidly, opening my arms to give her a hug. She puts her arms around me and rests her head on my shoulder. It is resolute and final.

"You too," she says, almost sadly.

I let go of her, the love of my life, and walk over to my waiting car. I slide into the back seat, dumping my bag next to me and returning her casual wave, swallowing my sadness just temporarily until I am out of sight.

Once we are clear of home I pull my phone out of the pocket of my jeans and check my messages and emails in an attempt to distract myself from facing my own miserable reality. Karen's email from the other day about Georgia Fowler catches my eye, and I skim read it again.

Georgia Fowler... Victoria's Secret... keen to get to know you... asked her management to contact you... to suggest a meeting.

I rub my hand over my face and take a deep breath, staring out the window for a minute at the beautiful Cheshire countryside whizzing past as we head towards Manchester Arena. I can't imagine bringing any other girl here to meet my mum. I can't imagine any other girl appreciating the simple things in life that are dear to me: my family, my roots, my desperation for privacy. 

But then, who says this Georgia Fowler is even after anything serious? She wants to meet up - it isn't a fucking marriage proposal. I need to move on with my life and stop obsessing over Jess, when it has become abundantly clear that we are never going to happen.

I hit reply on the screen, and type a brief email back to Karen:

Hi Karen, sorry for the late reply. Fine with me - arrange something in my diary between shows and let me know the dates. Thanks. H.

After all, what have I got to lose? Absolutely fucking nothing.