(No Control | Holding Me Ransom - 48 - A Whole Lot Of History)

The next ten days are hectic with shows, interviews and promo, not to mention a couple of conversations with Jeff and Irving Azoff about my future management once I am out of contract with Modest. Jeff is keen to represent me himself, but I know that Irving will have a hand in it all anyway. I harbour a secret desire to branch out from just music, but I don't know whether to go down the route of presenting, or film, or TV. And to be honest, I don't know if all or even any of those would be an option for me. I know my name alone may get me in the door, but I don't want to use this to my advantage. Whichever avenue I decide to pursue, I want to do it off my own merit rather than my reputation.

I am thankful that the remaining few shows run successfully without a hitch, and that my foot seems to be healing nicely and the pain is lessening. It seems as though the final stretch of the tour is going to run smoothly, and I can't help thinking this could be a positive sign that things with Jess will go well on the thirty-first. As much as I don't want to manipulate her, I can't help feeling happy that she is coming to our last show, and will hear Perfect live. Her love of One Direction can only work in my favour.

My dad is coming to the show too, and this means the two of them will meet for the first time. This is a big deal for me, and I know it is a big step for Jess, and again I can't help feeling this is all a good sign. She wouldn't bother meeting more of my family if she didn't see a future for us. Would she?

She arrives at Mum's in time for a late breakfast, on the morning of our last show, and I notice she seems more nervous and jittery than usual.

"Are you excited for the show tonight, Jess?" Mum asks once we have all started tucking in to a hearty fry up.

"She's nervous about being seen," I offer.

"I'll be fine," Jess says, a little hesitantly, and then adds, "I'm looking forward to it."

I can't help grinning delightedly at her.

"There will be so many people there," Mum says. "I spoke to Johanna last night. All the boys' families will be there."

Out of the corner of my eye I see a flicker of excitement pass over Jess' face - so subtle that no one else at the table will have noticed, because they don't know her like I do - and it is quickly hidden.

"Johannah Deakin?!" she asks, over-casually. I know inside she is squealing.

I smirk.

"Will - will Lottie be there?" she asks in the same tone, and I try to conceal my broadening smirk. She has never met Lottie before, but no doubt sees her as some sort of celebrity in her own right. How hilarious.

Jess gives me daggers across the table and next to me Gemma jumps and squeals in pain from the poorly-aimed kick that Jess has obviously meant for me.

"Oh my God, sorry!" Jess wails, and I lean back in my chair to laugh as Mum and Robin look on in amusement and confusion.

"What's going on?" Mum asks, smiling.

"Jess is getting giddy over meeting Louis' family tonight, and she knows I'm onto it," I explain, unable to contain my glee. "So she kicked me but accidentally got Gemma instead."

"Oh Harry, stop embarrassing the poor girl," Mum scolds as Jess apologises and flaps unnecessarily. 

It's cute how much she is stressing.

After we've finished eating and have helped Mum clear the dishes away I lead Jess into the lounge and sit as casually as I can on the sofa. Now that the time has come to talk everything through, I feel excited and nervous. The future of our relationship is resting on the outcome of this conversation. I feel like the last few months have been leading up to this very moment and now it is here I feel trembly and nervous, but determined to make it right; determined to answer every question she may have and come up with a solution to any problem that might stand in the way of a reconciliation.

Robin brings us a cup of tea each, and then leaves the room, closing the door behind him to give us privacy. My heart begins to pound as I look at Jess sitting next to me on the sofa. She looks as awkward as I feel.

"OK, soooo," I begin, wondering how to begin, where to start, what to say. "How are you?" I offer, smiling at the ridiculousness of my words.

"Fine thanks," she smiles, knowingly. "How are you?"

"I'm good," I respond, grinning stupidly as she grins at me.

And then, silence.

For fuck's sake.

"Why is this so hard?" I wonder, and she sniggers. "Not hard," I huff, picking up my cushion and chucking it in her face. "Get your mind out of the gutter."

"I'm sorry," she chuckles, putting her arms up to catch the cushion. "It's just really nice to be back on this page with you after everything. It's like it was when we first met."

"Yeah, that was pretty awesome," I admit, smiling at the memory of how easy it was back then. "I almost feel like we've come in a full circle. But there's still this... elephant in the room."

The ice has been broken - we're off.

"That's one way of referring to her," Jess quips, and I snort.

"Do you mean Sara, or Nadine?" I ask. I know she refers to Sara as a horse, but an elephant?

Jess's face drops immediately. It's sobering to watch.

"Sara," she says quietly. "Although weirdly I don't seem to hate her in the same way I used to. Whether that's because I'm moving on from it, or because I sort of feel like she was just as much of a victim as you were in all of it. Even though she knew you had a girlfriend."

She can't hide the hint of bitterness in her tone as she utters this last sentence. I don't blame her.

"Yeah, she did, but she only knew what Nadine told her, and I haven't a clue what that was," I say with a sigh. "We didn't discuss it. I couldn't bear talking about you with her... afterwards." (I can't bring myself to mention the word 'sex' in relation to Sara.) 

"I felt like I was cheating all over again," I continue. "She didn't hang around. She said she would have liked to see me again, but when I set her straight she left, and she hasn't pursued it since. From what I knew of her beforehand, she was a decent girl. Not the type to wreck a relationship on purpose. It was up to me to say no that night, and ultimately I let you down."

Should I be defending Sara here? I'm not sure. But I vowed to myself I would be honest about it all, and I believe that Sara didn't really do anything wrong. I'm the one who was unfaithful.

I watch Jess carefully, but she looks at the floor and sighs softly.

"I know you're sick of hearing it, but Jess, I am so so so sorry for what I did," I plead. "If I could go back and change it, I would."

"I know," she says, earnestly.

"I should have told you I was going to see Nadine in New York," I admit, as the words begin tumbling out, after months of being held in. "I should have told you about Louis becoming a dad, and the effect that was going to have on everything. I reacted badly to him when he told me, and I was ashamed to tell you about the things I said to him. I said some really horrible stuff. I hit him where it hurt."

I take a deep breath. This bit is hard to admit, but it is important that Jess understands the extent of the mess I created, so we can work through it. 

"I made a comment about his vocal ability not being up to scratch," I tell her, shakily. "I insulted Briana, and called her easy and a gold digger. I called him out for flirting with you and wanting you, and told him you wouldn't look twice at him now he had baggage. I spoke to him like shit and dragged you into it, and I shouldn't have."

Her eyes widen as she stares at me, and I look away, unable to bear the disappointment in her eyes.

"See, this is why I couldn't tell you sooner," I say, in a small voice. "I couldn't bear to see the look of disgust on your face, which I wholeheartedly deserve. Please don't hate me for the things I said. I regret them so deeply. I regretted them as soon as they were out of my mouth. I felt sick; I still feel sick, every time I think of what I said that day..."

"I'm not disgusted," she interjects, and I look up. "And of course I don't hate you. I'm just shocked. I never would have expected you to say or even think those things."

"I'm sorry," I apologise, sadly. "I don't have an excuse. I'd been jealous of Louis for a while, and I didn't know how to deal with it. It all came pouring out, and I didn't try to stop it. I just saw red. I couldn't tell you at the time because I was afraid you'd tell me where to go."

"I wouldn't have," she reassures me, and her hand reaches forward to rest on my knee. I feel a flush of warmth at her touch.

"I know that now," I reply. "But at the time it was all so raw, and I was so ashamed. I was petrified of what was going to happen to the band, and that was playing on my mind when I went off to New York, and on top of that I hadn't told you I would be seeing Nadine. It was starting to spiral out of control, even then."

It is so easy, with hindsight, to see the unravelling of us.

"I know you said you were worried what I would think of you going to see Nadine," she says slowly. "But was that honestly the only reason you didn't tell me?"

"Honestly," I insist, giving her full eye contact. "She texted me a few times, but it was just random chatting. I didn't mention it at first because it meant no more to me than Jeff texting me, or my friend Alice. Less, even. When it started to get more involved, with her friend being ill and eventually talking about us meeting up, I felt I'd sort of dug myself into a hole with it."

I close my eyes.

"By then I knew I should have told you I was in contact with her but I was worried you would think there was more to it when there absolutely wasn't. Maybe a part of me wanted to draw a line underneath it all, for my own closure."

It ended so quickly between me and Nadine that we never really had that talk. 

"There was a time when I thought I loved her," I confess, "but those feelings died pretty quickly when I met you, and that's when I realised I had never been in love with Nadine, because I never felt for her even one tenth of what I feel for you. But I still wanted the closure, I suppose. I feel bad about it now, because I knew she was harbouring feelings for me, but I set her straight, I swear. You can read the texts, if you want." I reach into my pocket, trying to slide my phone out, but my jeans are tight and it is awkward. "I kept them afterwards, just in case one day I ever got the opportunity to explain all of this. And now... I can't even believe that we're here talking about it, sorting it."

Shit - it's not sorted yet. I'm not taking anything for granted.

"I mean trying to sort it out," I amend hastily.

Why won't my fucking phone come out of my pocket? Why are my jeans so fucking tight? I'm getting hot and stressed.

"I don't need to read the texts," she interrupts, holding her hand up and shaking her head.

"I want you to know I'm telling you the truth," I insist.

"I trust you," she says simply, and I pause mid-fumble, my heart in my mouth.

Three words have never meant so much.

I stare at her, unsure what to say or do. She seems unsure, too, before she repeats firmly, "I trust you." 

My phone is finally out of my pocket, and I lay it down on the coffee table in case she changes her mind.

She trusts me. After everything that has happened; after everything I have done, she trusts me. This is serious progress. 

We are silent for a few moments, before I remember where I was in the story.

"Nadine said some stuff to me when I met up with her - some pretty horrible stuff," I continue. "I suppose I deserved it, after the way I treated Louis. Call it karma, if you will. I let her inside my head and I shouldn't have. I should have just told you everything at that point, when I was at my lowest, but I'd dug myself into a hole and I thought if I'd rung you from New York and told you I'd seen her and it had been planned for weeks, you'd get the wrong idea and we'd end up arguing, or worse, you'd break it off again."

She contemplates this for a moment.

"I wouldn't have been happy," she says, shaking her head. "But not because you'd gone to see her. I would have been more upset that you'd deliberately kept it from me. It would have broken my trust all over again."

Fair point. 

"I'm not saying you have to tell me everything you do," she adds, "but when it's something like that - travelling half way around the world to meet up with the ex who broke your heart... well I think I'd be justified in expecting honesty from you about it. If it had been the other way around I would have told you."

I know she would have. She would never have lied to me like I lied to her.

"I know, and you would have been right to be angry," I reply. "That's what made it harder for me. I knew I'd brought it all on myself."

"What did Nadine say to you that was so bad?" she asks curiously, and I feel another flush of heat, this time from the anger at the memory of Nadine's inaccurate assumptions about my relationship with Jess. I hesitate before answering - I don't want Jess to think I agree in any way with what Nadine said about her. I try to word it carefully.

"She was saying our relationship was never going to work because you're not famous," I answer, awkwardly, without looking at her. "She hit the nail on the head when she said you didn't know I'd gone to meet her but she was twisting it, trying to make out like I was keeping it from you for other reasons. She was saying you were a nobody, and she was making out like she was better than you. She was saying stuff about how I use the media to my advantage, and how I want someone who knows how to play the game, and look hot on my arm, and raise my profile in the US, like I want."

Even after all this time, these remarks still sting. I feel humiliated that someone who was once close to me had these thoughts about me, and believes that I think and act this way. Jess also said something similar to me, and much more, when she found out about Sara. I am afraid that repeating Nadine's words might plant seeds of doubt about me again in Jess's mind, even though some of the things Jess said that day were correct.

I can't let myself think like this. I can't let Nadine back inside my head. I learnt the hard way that that is an easy route to self-destruction. I have to be honest and lay myself open to Jess - for her eyes only.

"I told her I love you because you understand me," I carry on, pushing my fears firmly away, "and you make me happy just by being at my side. I basically told her I appreciate the important things in life, like taking you to meet my family, but she said..." 

Oh God, here we go. I lick my lips nervously before continuing.

"She said, 'You're Harry Styles from One Direction. You'll never be 'Just Harry' ever again.'"

I'm sweating. 

"I laughed it off, at the time. But then after I... after I told you I'd slept with Sara, and you gave it to me down the banks... you said some similar things, about the way I am. I started to question whether I really had turned into the person you both said I was."

There. It's out. I can't look at her, even though she is staring at me. I'm afraid of her reaction.

"Harry," she says, her voice trembling, "I was hurt and angry. I should never have said the things I said that day."

My stomach twists nervously, but I shrug. 

"I deserved them," I reply, simply. "I'd betrayed you, in the worst way possible. And actually, some of the stuff you said was right. I have changed, since I became famous. I didn't realise that I expected you to go along with everything I said, but you showed me that's exactly what I did. And later on, when I came to Cardiff after you told me you didn't want to see me... I didn't pay attention to what you wanted, because my arrogance took over and I thought I knew better. I just assumed I could get you to change your mind, and I'd be able to make you listen. I'm so sorry for that."

Only now can I truly appreciate what a complete arse I was.

"Even so," she says, shaking her head slowly, "the things I said to you were horrible. At the time I wanted to hurt you, because I believed you didn't care about me, and I was hurting so badly... it doesn't excuse it, but it's the truth."

I feel a stab of pain at the admission I hurt her. I don't need reminding of that.

Or perhaps I do.

"That hurt me," I confess. "It hurt me that you just assumed I had been stringing you along the whole time, and that you thought you meant nothing to me."

"You'd slept with someone else!" she argues, her voice rising. "What was I supposed to think?!"

"I know," I nod, fervently. "I'm not saying it was a rational thought process. But I was hurt nonetheless that you believed so easily that I'd never loved you. And then I started to think maybe you were right, maybe I didn't love you. And the more I thought about it, the more that seemed to make sense. I thought I wouldn't have wanted anyone else if I had truly loved you. But I was wrong, Jess. I didn't know at the time what Nadine had done. I doubted myself, just like you doubted me, because it was the only explanation I had available."

We are quiet again for a minute, and a single tear slides slowly down Jess's cheek as she stares at my feet.

"I'm sorry I said that to you," she says eventually.

"Don't be sorry," I say, gently. "What else could you have thought? My actions spoke louder than words."

"I was about to break from all I'd heard," she says, regretfully, and it takes a second for me to register her choice of words. Did she just quote the lyrics from Gotta Be You?! Seriously? Now?

I look at her and a faint smirk plays at the corner of her mouth.

She did. She fucking did. 

"Did you actually just say that?!" I groan in disbelief, and she begins to laugh as she wipes the tear off her cheek.

"I'm sorry," she half laughs, half sobs. "It was just too good an opportunity to pass up."

"You are a loser," I hiss emphatically, throwing another cushion in her face.

"Yeah, but you love me," she smiles through her tears.

"Yeah, I do," I nod, seriously. "I really, really do, Jess."

"I know," she nods too, her laughter fading. "And I know I contributed to the breakdown of our relationship too."

I hesitate, unsure whether to confirm this. I mean, we had our problems - I'm not going to lie. But is this one of those times where girls say something they don't mean, and when you agree with it they get all huffy and self-righteous? Jess doesn't seem like the type to do this, but I'm not taking any chances.

"It's OK to admit it," she smiles, as though she is reading my mind. "I'm not saying this to make you contradict me. I mean it. I put so much pressure on you with my lack of trust. I didn't exactly make things easy."

Well, yes. That is a fair point. I can't lie that I was frustrated by her lack of faith in me from the word go.

"Why didn't you trust me?" I ask gently.

"I just felt so plain and ordinary compared to you, and the girls you had dated previously," she answers, looking down again. "I've never had a problem with self-confidence in the past, but you were something else. You're world famous." (She emphasises this.) "I'd put you on a pedestal long before I met you and I didn't take you down until it was too late. I felt like I paled in comparison. I mean, you could have any woman you want. Literally." 

She sweeps her arm. I want to contradict her, but I don't want to interrupt her flow. I need to know what is going on inside her head. 

"I just couldn't understand why you wanted me," she says, almost helplessly. "I've never questioned this in any of my past relationships, I swear. But I'd read stories about your many women - nearly all of them models - and then when those kiss and tells surfaced it was like what I'd known deep down all along: I wasn't in the same league as you. And I hadn't known you long enough at that point to know that you are honest and genuine and trustworthy. Your ex-girlfriends all seemed to be talking about how you were a natural flirt and they couldn't trust you, and I let that influence me, when I shouldn't have."

I can't really deny that a lot of my past encounters have been with models. To say anything now would probably make me sound like a dick.

"I don't know how to answer that," I admit.

"You don't have to," she replies immediately, reaching forward again and going for my hand this time. "I made a judgement based on the Harry Styles that the media portrays, not the Harry that I had known, and that was wrong of me. It isn't up to you to prove you can be trusted - "

"It is now," I point out, wishing it wasn't, but she shakes her head again.

"No," she says firmly. "It's not. If we are going to try and work things out, we wipe the slate clean. I don't want you to feel like you have to make things up to me. If we try again, we start afresh."

If we're going to wipe it clean, I have to explain them all. This is my only chance before we draw a line under it all.

"I just want to say, though, you never had any reason to doubt me," I begin carefully. "I know you think I could have any girl I want, and OK, maybe to an extent that's sort of true, although I'm not proud of it. But I only ever wanted you, Jess, from the moment I met you. I should have told you about my previous arrangement with Taylor, but it seemed a bit unnecessary to bring it up at the time, as it wasn't something that I planned on rekindling. I slept with that girl in Manila when I thought things weren't going to happen with us, but to be honest I regretted it, because she wasn't who I wanted to be with that night - you were. Joy Muggli... well, that whole thing was just plain weird because I don't know her, and yes, I fucked up big time by not telling you I was meeting Nadine, and I made the worst mistake of my life with Sara - " Oh God - is this list of women neverending?! -  "But I honestly, hand on heart, believe that I would never have looked twice at her if I hadn't snorted that shit." 

I clear my throat uncomfortably. "I realise now as I'm going through all these women that it sounds really bad..," I add lamely.

"And Georgia?" she reminds me.

Fuck - I forgot about that.

"I was trying to move on," I sigh. "You kept telling me to, so I decided to give it a try. And I really tried. I kissed her. Sorry," I add, when I see the look of pain flicker across her face.

"It's fine," she says graciously, and I continue in a rush before I can bottle it.

"I kissed her, and OK, if I'm being really honest, I could have had sex with her, if I'd wanted to. She was up for it, she didn't exactly hide it. But I didn't," I insist. "I didn't do it because I didn't want to. I just wanted you... I just want you." Present tense, not past tense.

"Did you do anything with her? Apart from kiss her, I mean?" she asks, and I can't stop my mouth from pulling into a stupid smirk.

"Well... we played Scrabble," I joke. "But if you mean anything more than kissing... no. I swear to you. It was just one kiss, nothing more."

She lets out a deep breath, like she has been worrying that I have been keeping something more from her. I note that she accepts my answer without question, confirming her earlier declaration of trust, and I suddenly wonder whether she accepts this so easily because she has things she needs to own up to herself? I feel immediately sick.

"I know it looks like whenever things go wrong with us, I always have a back-up plan," I mutter.

"I wasn't actually thinking that," she says gently.

I have to ask. I have to know if she has slept with anyone else.

"Did you ever sleep with that guy Adam?" I ask clumsily.

"No."

"Did you sleep with anyone else?" 

I hate myself. I wish I could look at her, but I can't.

"No," she says again, and the weight on my shoulders lifts.

"I'm glad," I mumble, hating myself for feeling this way when I have no right.

"Me too," she says, looking directly at me. "Would it have made a difference to how you feel, if I had?"

How do I answer this without sounding like a prick?

"I wouldn't have liked it," I admit, feeling ashamed and hypocritical. "In fact, I would have hated it. The thought of you with someone else... it makes my whole body hurt. And I hate that I probably made you feel that way with Sara."

"You did," she points out, with a bluntness that still manages to pierce my heart. "I was a mess, for weeks. I couldn't stop crying, I lost loads of weight..."

"Yeah, Louis said that," I recall, shifting awkwardly as the conversation takes a new direction that needs to be covered. 

There is a heavy moment of silence before she speaks again.

"I'm really sorry for kissing Louis. That wasn't my finest hour."

Funnily enough, that memory hurts far less than knowing how much I hurt her with my actions.

"I'm sorry for shouting at you about it," I apologise sincerely.

"I honestly wasn't thinking," she says, looking at me with her eyes wide and her hands open. "We were talking about you, and he wasn't giving much away, and he was being really sweet to me and I was drunk, and I just did it without thinking."

"I know," I murmur.

Even if I hadn't believed Louis' account of their kiss, I would struggle not to believe Jess' when she is looking at me with such sincerity and purity, it is practically shining out of every pore. 

I don't deserve this girl.

"He didn't encourage me," she adds, unnecessarily. "He stepped back straight away. I was mortified."

An image of this happening flashes through my mind. I can see it in my head so clearly, and I know if I dwell on it, I will regret it. I push the thought away with finality. Once this conversation is over, this particular issue is dead and buried.

"It's fine," I smile. "Louis and I have been through all this. He's a horny little fucker. He's just jealous he didn't meet you first."

"What do you mean?" She is frowning at me in confusion. I roll my eyes at her innocence, and decide it is probably a good thing that people don't hear the type of conversations we have on tour. Our squeaky clean image would be in tatters.

"I mean he thinks you're hot," I elaborate. "You know this already, after what he said to you that night. I'd been a dick to Louis, and if he was the vindictive type he could quite easily have taken advantage of you that night and got back at me in the process. But he's a decent guy. And he's a good friend. To both of us."

Thank God he is a decent guy. I dread to think how different life would have been for me if he wasn't.

"He did try and convince me you still loved me," she nods, looking into the distance, seemingly lost in a memory.

"He saw what I couldn't see," I tell her. "I was a mess. I'd found out the truth about Nadine by then, but I was floundering, and I couldn't get my head around it all. Louis wanted me to tell you everything but I refused, for weeks. He was the one who finally convinced me in the end."

I owe him so much.

"Why didn't he just tell me himself?"

"Because I'd made it clear I didn't want that." God, I was such a pathetic knob. "He told you about the baby to try and give you some perspective, in the hope that you might thaw a bit towards me. He convinced me to come to Libertine that night. He was goading me, and it worked."

"What do you mean, goading you?" she asks, and I smile wryly. She has no idea what Louis can be like when he is hatching a plan.

"He was telling me how amazing you looked, and that if I didn't get down there, he'd make a play for you himself," I say, flatly. "I know now he was bluffing, but at the time I was worried he might, and he also said you were there with another guy, that I guessed was Gary. It was enough to get me there."

Her eyebrows have almost disappeared under her hair. She lets out a long breath. "I didn't know he was quite so cunning!"

"He's a wily little bastard," I smirk. "But unfortunately it backfired when the pap pictured you kissing. I then thought he really had made a play for you, like he'd threatened. I was devastated."

"Oh Harry," she sighs, softly. "I'm so sorry I came between the two of you."

"You weren't to know," I assure her. "If I'd confessed my insecurity over you and Louis sooner, maybe it would never have got to that stage. And we're fine now. I meant what I said in Cardiff. I am over it."

Funny how things change. I never thought I would ever be able to let go of my jealousy. But some things are more important than stupid insecurities. Like true love.

"Between us we made a right mess of everything," she says, almost bitterly.

"Yeah," I nod, a little sadly. "We did."

"Sorry to interrupt," Mum's voice comes from the doorway, making me jump. "Harry - the car's here to take you to Sheffield."

What? 

"You'd better get your stuff," Jess says, standing up.

"But we haven't finished talking," I mutter, standing up too and staring at the clock in disbelief. We've been talking for hours, but it feels like minutes. There is still more I want to say. I need to ask her why she suddenly wanted to try and sort things out as soon as I was pictured with Georgia. I need to know she wants this for the right reasons.

There is an impatient beep of a horn outside.

"Well, we can finish tomorrow," Jess says, with a soft smile.

I hate leaving things unfinished. "OK, I'll get my stuff," I mutter.

I take the stairs two at a time and grab my concert bag from my bed, and my jacket. When I return to the hall she is standing waiting for me, and it feels right. It feels right that she is here, by my side. I never want to let her go.

"So, I guess I'll see you at the concert," I offer, feeling clumsy and awkward again. My arms feel too big for my body.

"Was there something else you wanted to say?" she asks, like she could read my mind earlier.

I shrug. "It'll keep."

"Harry," she says, with a warning note in her tone. "You know where secrets get us. Absolutely nowhere."

"It's not a secret," I assure her. "I promise. We can talk about it next time."

I'm not about to get into the Georgia thing now, when we only have seconds to spare.

"Harry -"

"Shh - Jess - it'll keep, honestly. It's not important. Promise me you'll come to the show?" 

"Of course," she smiles. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Another beep sounds outside - longer and even more impatient.

"Harry, go on, you don't want to be late," Mum chides from the kitchen doorway, and gives me a kiss on the cheek. "You'll see us in a couple of hours anyway."

"OK."

I give Mum a quick hug, and then Jess approaches me with her arms out, and fits so perfectly into mine that I wonder if we are actually two halves of the same piece, destined to be together, and incomplete on our own. My dick twitches, and I let her go and smirk down at her. I guess some things never change.

"See you backstage," I grin, and they wave me off from the front door as my car turns out of the drive, on the way to Sheffield, for the last show of the tour. 

It's the end of one era, but hopefully the beginning of another.

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It's been 3 years since I created my Wattpad account! So here is an update to celebrate 😁