(No Control | Holding Me Ransom - 46 - The Proof Is In This Song)

Aside from being kicked out of Jess's flat in favour of the Wicked Witch of the West, I take the events of the last hour as progress in our relationship, and think of nothing else all the way home. I am slightly bothered that she only wants me again after she thought I belonged to somebody else (the classic want-what-you-can't-have scenario) but I vow to ask her about this at the earliest opportunity.

I am also quietly mortified about my, er, 'overexcitement' on the sofa. Never in my life have I let myself get so carried away whilst still fully dressed, and every time I think about it I feel a prickle of uncomfortable heat throughout my whole body. When it happened, I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. Luckily Jess saw the funny side and seemed to be laughing at the whole situation rather than at me, but the humiliation still stings, and probably will for days, months, years to come. I pray silently that this never ever gets mentioned again.

I arrive home and jog straight upstairs to shower and change. Once I am warm and snuggly in a clean pair of joggers I settle in front of the TV and pick up my phone. I have a message from Jess that makes me smile and cringe at the same time:

Did you get home OK? Change your boxers? ;) x

Oh God. Please let this not become a standing joke between us. I don't think my ego could handle it.

Yeah, I type back. Let's never mention that again. Ever. xx

Her reply is immediate.

Haha! Sorry we couldn't talk tonight, and thanks for all the stuff you brought round for me. That was incredibly sweet. Even Callie is warming to you x

Oh God - what has that demon been saying about me? I type so fast I can barely see my fingers move.

What did she say?

In my haste, I forget to add kisses on the end but Jess doesn't seem to notice.

She said you weren't that bad. Believe me, that's progress. Got to go now x

I send three kisses back in response, as I don't want to seem like I'm needy, or disturbing her evening, and turn my gaze back to the TV while my mind whirrs at a thousand miles per hour.

Callie doesn't trust me - that much is clear. Callie is also the closest person to Jess, which means she could potentially have a lot of sway. If I am going to win Jess back, I need her best friend on side, or her approval at the very least. It's not only Jess I have to convince that I am trustworthy, it's Callie too.

My previous conversations with Callie haven't gone particularly well. She told me to fuck off, if I remember rightly, and also said she would have ripped my Green Bay hoodie to shreds if it were up to her. I haven't tried to contact her since, but now I have seen her in the flesh I can't help wondering if this is a good opportunity to try and make a connection with her again, and see if she will give me Jess's stuff back. Not right this minute, obviously, as she is with Jess. But after saying I will text her, I want to stay true to my word.

As I am pondering all this, my phone lights up with a call. It's Louis.

"Lewis," I greet him.

"Harold," he answers. "Got your dick wet yet?"

Sore point. There is not enough money in the world that could convince me to share this evening's little mishap with Louis.

"Don't be crude," I reply.

"She's got you so whipped," he laughs.

If only he knew.

"Change the record," I sigh. "What do you want?"

"A little courtesy wouldn't go amiss," he teases.

"Coming from you?" I tease back. "Don't make me laugh."

"I can always tell when you've been hanging out with Jess," he says, and I can hear the grin in his voice. "You get all sassy."

"I do not!" I protest, and he cackles delightedly.

"You told her about Perfect yet?" he asks.

"No," I answer, as I remember we're only two days away from the release date.

"Don't you think you'd better? Or do you have some grand romantic gesture planned? Are you going to give her a private rendition?"

"What's got into your knickers?" I demand. "You're even worse than usual."

"I've just been talking to Liam," he says, his tone suddenly serious. "He's not in a good way. I was trying to take the piss out of him for being under Sophia's thumb, and he just flew at me."

"Did you cross a line?"

"No!" he insists. "I just asked him if he would be allowed out to play to celebrate the end of the tour, or whether Sophia would have his pipe and slippers waiting for him, and a cup of hot cocoa next to the fire."

"So you crossed a line," I sigh.

"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffs. "I've said far worse to him. But he normally just laughs it off. Tonight he hit the roof. It was uncomfortable."

"Maybe he's just not in the mood?" I suggest, although I have to admit that any sort of extreme reaction from Liam is worrying. He is by the far the most level headed out of all of us. He can be moody, but he never usually shouts.

"Mmm," Louis mutters. "He's been getting more and more volatile lately. You've been too wrapped up in your girl problems to notice."

"I haven't, actually," I bristle. "I know he's been out of sorts. I just didn't realise it was quite so bad," I admit.

"Well, I'm worried," Louis sighs. "We're so close to the end of the tour now. I feel like everyone's wheels are slowly falling off, and we're literally going to stagger to the finish line and collapse in a heap. We've still got the US stuff to do, don't forget."

"Hark at Mister Sensible," I jeer.

"Well someone's got to organise you bunch of buffoons," he jokes.

"Is that why you rang?" I ask. "To organise me?"

"Nah. I rang to take the piss out of you for not getting your dick wet in months," he fires back immediately.

"I can't wait to get my fucking dick wet, if only to shut you up!" I mutter exasperatedly.

"Yeah," Louis says sarcastically, "that's why you can't wait."

"Oh piss off," I tell him, goodnaturedly. "Go and find someone else to abuse."

"I'll ring Nialler," he concedes. "Keep in mind what I said about Liam though, OK? Last thing we need is another one going off the rails."

After Louis has rung off I mull over our conversation. Liam must have snapped at Louis pretty badly for Louis to be concerned, which is extremely out of character for Liam. I don't want him to think we are talking about him behind his back, so I make a mental note to try and get him on his own tomorrow when we get to Dublin for our next show, to see how he is.

Louis has also given me an idea about Perfect. I have been wondering whether to bring it up with Jess, and until tonight I hadn't deemed it appropriate, due to the state of our relationship. However, everything has now changed. I didn't mention my progress to Louis for fear of jinxing it, and now my mind is racing with ideas. I want to celebrate the release of the song, and the meaning behind it for me and Jess.

It is the following morning that the idea comes to me, and I take a trip to an upmarket florist first thing, to choose some flowers for Jess. I spend half an hour talking to the owner (who asks me for an autograph for his daughter), and after assuring me he will not breach my confidentiality, I place an order for a beautiful bouquet, to be sent to her flat tomorrow morning.

"I have very specific instructions," I tell him. "I'll pay however much extra to have this delivered at the precise time."

The guy nods, and I continue, "Your driver needs to be listening to Radio 1 in the morning. I need him to place this bouquet in her hands just as a specific song finishes. If I need to pay extra for him be listening to it on his phone or whatever, to make sure the timing is just right, then that's fine. He can't be held up. He can't be ten seconds too early. It has to be precisely as the song finishes."

He nods, although he is giving me a bit of a weird look. "Don't worry, Mr Styles," he says. "We pride ourselves in our ability to fulfil any order to the letter. We'll do exactly what you want."

I fill out the little card that will be sent with the flowers, and inspiration hits just as I pick up the pen.

I might never be the one who brings you flowers... but I hope this is the next best thing. H xxx

Perfect, I think to myself, and smirk at my own horrendous pun.

After instructing him to have the driver outside Jess's flat at half past seven the following morning, ready to listen out for the song and be outside her door ready to hand the flowers to her just as it finishes, the owner gives me his mobile number and tells me I can ring him directly, should I wish to place any further orders. I make my way back home with a smile on my face, and throw my stuff in my suitcase ready to fly to Ireland that afternoon.

Louis is right - Liam does seem out of sorts. When I greet him at the airport I receive a disinterested grunt in return. He barely says a word throughout the short flight, and once we reach our hotel he retreats straight to his room alone.

While I am pondering whether to knock on his door, I decide to take the plunge and text Callie again, as hopefully by now she might have settled down a bit. 

Hi Callie, it's Harry. Hope you're well. I was hoping you might have had chance to think about Jess's stuff, and my hoody. I really would like to collect it from you if that would be OK please?

I text Jess while I am waiting for a response, simply to remind her to listen to Perfect the next morning so my grand gesture isn't completely lost on her.

Don't forget to listen to Radio 1 tomorrow morning at 7.50! Grimmy has exclusive first play of our new single xx 

I go back into my message thread with Callie and see the bubbles pop up. My stomach gives a flutter of dread at the anticipation of her answer. 

Not a chance in hell, is the reply. Until you prove you are genuine and have no interest in hurting Jess, you won't be coming anywhere near it. 

What do you want me to do? I type back, frustrated now. How am I supposed to prove that? 

I'm sure you'll think of something, is the immediate reply. 

I stare at my phone in disbelief. Is she actually joking? She wants me to prove myself? Who on earth does she think she is? 

Just as I am wondering how on earth to respond to this, Jess replies to my text. 

I won't forget. Sarah and I are going into work early to listen to it together xx 

It takes me a second to remember that she is talking about the release of Perfect.

Aww, that's cute. Let me know what you think of it xx, I text back, and then just as I press send, my blood runs cold.

She can't go into work early - I'm getting fucking flowers delivered to her flat! FUCK!

Will do, comes the jaunty reply. Good luck for the show xx

I stare at my phone in a panic, my heart beating fast and my palms sweaty. Callie's psychotic demands are now the least of my worries. What the fuck am I going to do now? My surprise will be ruined. 

Wait - the owner of the flower shop gave me his personal number. Fucking hell, where did I put his business card?

I pat my jeans frantically and strike it lucky in one of the back pockets - the card is still there, with his number written on it as clear as day. Let's hope he doesn't mind out of hours calls.

Luckily he doesn't, and after a bit of a flap trying to google the exact address and postcode of Jess's office in Harrow, and giving a detailed description of the inside of the office building so the driver knows exactly where to go, disaster is averted. I end the call with sweat patches under my arms.

I swear to God this girl makes me do some crazy shit. I'm turning into a lunatic. Oh well - it's all in the name of love, I suppose. And I wouldn't have it any other way.