(No Control | Holding Me Ransom - 56 - Starting Up Trouble)

We make our way back to London on Sunday night, as Jess is back at work on Monday morning and I have a hectic schedule involving various bits of promo to do for the release of our fifth album, Made In The A.M., on Friday 13th November. I'm not sure whether it's a result of being out in the cold air over the weekend, but my throat starts feeling scratchy on Monday morning, and after a consultation with one of the team doctors I am placed on voice rest and told to pick either singing or talking, so of course I pick singing as we have live performances coming up; which means I have to resort to using a computerised app to speak for me during our Radio One interview with Grimmy, much to my amusement and everyone else's annoyance. We are in and out of TV studios, filming The Jonathan Ross Show and The Royal Variety Performance.  We have a live interview with James Corden and a performance for a very small number of fans on Saturday 14th - The London Session - and we're due to appear on The X Factor results show on Sunday 15th to perform Perfect. I'm particularly excited about X Factor as Jess is coming with me to the studios, before we fly out together with the band to the US on Monday morning for more album promo. 

I get a text on Tuesday confirming that Heat Magazine has finally printed a retraction and apology (https://heatworld.com/celebrity/news/harry-styles-apology/) following their ridiculous story back in May about me and that strange girl Joy Muggli, and I forward it to Jess who sends a thumbs up and a laughing emoji back in return. I'm glad we can laugh about it now - that scandal feels like a million years ago, although at the time it was just another nail in the coffin of the first attempt at our relationship.

The rehearsals for the London Session are relentless. Coupled with the promotion schedule for the album, my days are long and tiring. I don't think I'm home before ten p.m. the entire week. I knew I wouldn't be seeing much of Jess this week so we make do with texts during the day and a phonecall once I'm home (or often as soon as I get into the back of the car to be driven home - I can't seem to wait until I'm in bed before I ring her). Our conversations are supposed to be brief, to rest my voice, which I find harder than I thought I would - I'm missing her terribly after getting back together so recently and not being able to see her regularly. 

On Friday night we're discussing the fact that Christmas and the new year don't seem far away when she mentions her birthday, and I realise with a start that it's at the end of January - with my hectic schedule I don't have many free days to shop for anything nice. Obviously I want it to be special; I've never bought her a birthday present before and she rarely lets me spend my money on her so this will be the perfect excuse. Now I just need to think up a startlingly brilliant idea that will earn more boyfriend points. 

I ponder this at various moments throughout the week, and one vacant daydream earns me a smack round the back of the head from Louis who catches me staring into space during the final soundcheck for the London Session. 

"Oi, dickhead. Wake up." I stick two fingers up at him but he just grins in my face. "What's got you looking so pensive?"

"Pensive? Big word," I tease him. "You just learnt that one?"

It's his turn to show me two fingers as he chuckles and pushes his fringe sideways across his face. He lets out a deep sigh and revolves slowly on the spot, staring all around the room which is the same one where we filmed the Story of My Life music video a couple of years ago.

"I dunno about you but I'm looking forward to LA," he says, after a moment. 

"Any particular reason?" I ask him.

"I could do with a decent night out," he smirks. "But I also have stuff to sort out for Briana and the baby. It's been weighing on my mind and I want to get everything ready, as much as I can anyway."

"How is Briana?" I ask. "How are things between the two of you?"

Louis shrugs awkwardly. "OK, I suppose. I mean, what do you say to someone you just met who's having your baby? We have to get along as best we can, don't we? We have to get to know each other."

"Do you think there's a chance you might get together with her, like as a couple I mean?" I wonder.

Louis shakes his head. "Nah. She's a great girl, don't get me wrong. And she's gorgeous. But I don't think we're destined to be soulmates. I just want to do the right thing by her, and the baby. I want to be there for both of them. It's hard."

I nod sympathetically, wishing there could be a way to make things easier for Louis, but knowing there isn't. This is something he has to face himself. I wouldn't want to be in his shoes for all the money in the world. Although the thought of Jess dropping a pregnancy announcement on me flashes through my mind briefly, and while it isn't something I want to happen just yet, it doesn't fill me with fear like it would have done with any of my ex-girlfriends. That strange twinge in my stomach is back again, the same one from last week, and I push it to one side with a strange glow of warmth.

Our conversation is interrupted by our stage manager informing us that sound check is complete, and we can head backstage while they make the final preparations to the stage before the fans are allowed in. With a nostalgic glance around me, and the fond memory of five young lads with the world at their feet prancing around this very room, I follow the others backstage to have some food and wait to be called.

The interview goes well, and although James knows full well that Perfect is (mostly) written about Jess, he obviously takes it down the Taylor Swift route, asking about the break-up songs line. It's a route I'm only too happy to take, as that one lyric has diverted all potential attention away from my relationship with Jess and directed it solely onto Taylor. It's kind of funny, given the flack I've had to take over the years from her songs that were supposedly written about me. I wonder briefly what she thinks about Perfect, and with an inward smirk I decide I don't really care. (The performance that follows is also good, and with a pang of nostalgia I realise that these last few performances as a band should be remembered and cherished, as there are so few of them left now.)

I tell Jess about it all that evening on the phone, once I'm all cosy in bed, and we giggle together about how much fun it is to deceive the world. I'm just dropping off to sleep, having hung up a couple of minutes earlier, when I am struck with a sudden flash of inspiration for her birthday: Callie might the person to ask! Or at least, she could possibly advise me once I've thought up a good idea; if she doesn't tell me to fuck off just for breathing, that is. But maybe if she sees how keen I am to make Jess happy she might soften a little towards me. She might even give me Jess's One Direction merch, and I could give that to Jess as part of her birthday present!

I'm wide awake now, and excited. I pick up my phone and text Callie before I can change my mind - I barely have time to overthink it, such is my keenness.

Hi Callie, it's Harry again. Hope you're well. I'm still really keen to do something nice for Jess, especially with her birthday coming up in January, and was hoping maybe you might have a few minutes free to speak to me? I won't take up much of your time. Harry.

I've already pressed send by the time I realise I've mentioned my name twice in the same message, but it's too late to change it now. Hopefully it will come across more genuine this way, and not like I've composed a perfect message to try and get her on side. 

I'm still trying to get to sleep ten minutes later, thinking up romantic ways to give Jess her One Direction stuff (and my Green Bay Packers hoodie) when my phone vibrates with a text. It's Callie. Heart thumping, I open the message.

Harry. I really cannot put this in any plainer English. I think you are a twat and until you prove beyond any doubt that you're not a lying, cheating scumbag I will not be helping you worm your way back into Jess's life. You broke her heart and ruined her life. She deserves better than you and I will celebrate the day she opens her eyes and sees you for the knobhead you really are. Goodbye.

My heart is thumping harder now, and my face is burning red and hot. I feel embarrassed and humiliated at being told so bluntly and directly that she can't stand me. And deep down, I know her reasons are, at least to her, fully justified.

For now I am too ashamed to respond to her message, and instead lie awake in the dark for the  next hour or so feeling shitty and miserable until eventually I fall asleep. 

I sleep late on Sunday morning after a restless night, and after rereading Callie's message I decide I will respond to her one last time, if only to apologise for bothering her. This message takes me a lot longer to compose than the one last night, and after an hour or so of typing, revising, deleting and typing some more, I finally press send.

Fuck off then, you witch.

Ha! Obviously I'm kidding. I don't really send that. But it was fun to imagine for second that I did. No, what I really sent was this:

Fair enough. I know what I did to Jess was unforgivable. I don't want to keep bothering you, but I just want you to know that I'm a different person now, and it matters to me what you think because Jess values your opinion. I never intended to hurt Jess, and I still hate myself because I did. This isn't intended to be a poor-me message, and I don't expect you to change your opinion of me overnight. But like it or not, we have one thing in common: we both love Jess. I don't want to come between you and her. I'd like us to be civil to each other at least in front of her, and I hope one day I will manage to prove to you that she was right to forgive me when I didn't deserve it. Harry.

Her response is almost immediate.

Great. I'm on the edge of my seat, waiting to be proved spectacularly wrong. Now kindly fuck off and stop texting me. I have flying pigs to tend to.

I've never met anyone as rude and obnoxious as this girl, but the one thing I have taken from this exchange is that although it's clear Callie hates me, she has at least acknowledged that there is the smallest chance I might be able to change her mind about me. And if that's what it takes to get Jess's One Direction stuff back then that is exactly what I will do.

I'm looking forward to seeing Jess later - she's bringing her suitcase here first (as we're flying out of Heathrow at 6am tomorrow) and then we're going to the ITV studios together. Just as I'm getting a few things together in a bag ready for our X Factor performance tonight, she calls.

"Hi baby," I answer.

"Hi," she says miserably. "Something's happened..."

Oh God. "Are you OK?" 

"Yeah... well, I am, but Callie's not," she replies, and my heart drops to my toes before beginning to pound. What the fuck has Callie done? "You know she thought her boyfriend was cheating on her?" Jess continues. "Well, it turns out he is, and she just found out. She's hysterical, and I need to be with her."

Seriously? Seriously? I texted Callie trying to be nice, she pretty much told me to go and fuck myself and now all of a sudden she's having boyfriend trouble and can't function without Jess, on the one night that Jess is supposed to be with me?

Of all the fucking sly, spiteful, manipulative stunts to pull -

"Harry?" 

I can't believe Jess is falling for this shit.

"I'm here. So what are you saying, you're not coming tonight?"

For fuck's sake. I really wanted her to hear Perfect again, live. And now that witch Callie has made damn sure it won't happen. 

"I'm so sorry," she whispers, and she has the grace to sound upset. "I can't leave her on her own. I hate letting you down like this, but she's a mess. I need to make sure she's OK."

What the fuck do I do? What do I say? I'm well aware that if I tell Jess what I really think is going on here, I'll ruin the surprise (that will probably never happen anyway if Callie is pulling the strings), I'll come between Callie and Jess (which I just told Callie I would never do) and I'll cause an argument between me and Jess into the bargain. The only winner here is fucking Callie. I could scream.

"Harry?" Jess prompts again.

"Yes?"

"Are you cross with me?" she asks softly.

"I'm not exactly happy," I snap, unable to help myself.

"Please don't be angry," she begs, and I can hear strange mechanical cough in the background. "We've got a whole week to spend together from tomorrow. I'll be right by your side the whole time."

"What's that noise in the background?" 

"My car won't start," she answers, and I can hear the frustration in her voice. "I need to pick up some wine on my way to Callie's. She needs to get drunk, apparently."

Callie's taken over the whole fucking evening??

"So are you not coming to mine later?" I demand.

"Um... I don't know. I was going to see how Callie is. I might have to get a taxi to you in the morning or something. WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS CAR?!" she shouts, and she sounds close to tears. I close my eyes, hating Callie for being such a witch and myself for being played like this.

"Do you need a lift?" I mutter.

"No, I'll get a taxi," she answers curtly, and I hear the sound of the door slamming and she's obviously given up on the car.

"You can't get a taxi, it'll cost a fortune," I reason. "I'll come and pick you up and take you to Callie's. I can pick up your case and bring it to my house, then you can just come to mine either tonight or in the morning."

"I -" She hesitates. "Are you sure?"

"I'll be there in ten minutes," I mutter. "Wait outside for me."

She's in the car park when I pull in, and begins to drag her case towards the car as I get out and open the boot. I lift it in for her, shut the boot lid and climb into the driver's seat as she gets in the other side. She looks pissed off, and I don't feel exactly thrilled either.

"Why won't your car start?" I ask, clipping my seatbelt and starting the engine.

"I don't know," she sighs. "It was fine during the week. It's due its MOT in December though. I'm guessing it's going to need work doing to it." 

That sounds like it could be expensive. No wonder she's grumpy.

I turn the car around in the car park and then pause at the exit. "You'll have to direct me."

"Yeah, you've never been good at reading road signs," she says lightly, and I struggle not to smile at this reference. "Turn right at the end and there's a Londis just a bit further up," she adds. "I'll need to jump out and grab some wine... if that's OK...?" It's obviously a question but I'm still feeling tetchy so I don't bother to answer, but instead pull into a space at the side of the road in front of the shop and wait while she jumps out the car with a muttered 'thanks'.

I lean my head back on the head rest and let out a deep sigh. I know I'm being an arse to her, and I know I need to stop. It isn't her fault her best friend is a conniving witch.

I catch sight of her returning out of the corner of my eye, struggling with two small bags that look like they're about to split from the weight of the many bottles of wine inside. I lean over to open the door for her.

"How much are you planning on drinking?!" I ask in surprise.

"This isn't all for me! The wine is mostly for Callie," she informs me. "The lemonade is for me. I don't want to be hungover on the flight tomorrow. Carry on straight up this road towards the traffic lights."

I indicate and pull back onto the road, feeling a little mollified that she has at least given me some thought in her decision not to get hammered tonight. Not that I would mind if she did get drunk. I'm just annoyed at - well, you know why.

"I'm really sorry about tonight," she says after a moment, resting her hand on my leg as we crawl up the road in a queue of traffic.

"Mmmph," I respond.

"I can't let her down," she explains, before adding, "Take the next right."

"But you can let me down." Why do I insist on being a prick? Why couldn't I just accept her apology graciously?

"Her need is greater, right this minute," she replies, and instantly my back is up again.

"How do you know?" I snap. "Did you ask me how I would feel?"

There's a pause. "No," she answers in a small voice. "I didn't. But Callie can't even string a sentence together -"

Ha! Callie is perfectly capable of stringing many sentences together; most of them derogatory and opinionated. 

"I find that hard to believe," I sneer.

" - and she was practically hyperventilating. She needs me."

She needs to fuck off. 

I need to keep these thoughts to myself.

"I know you don't like her," she says softly. Then, "Get in the left hand lane, and go left after this row of trees."

"Can you blame me?" I ask bluntly. "She talks to me like shit."

"I know, but she's just protective over me. She's always been the one to pick me up every time things fall apart with us, and I owe her the same support."

Fall.

Not fell. 

Fall.

"Fall?" I repeat.

"What?" She's confused.

"Fall," I say again. "You said, 'every time things fall apart with us.' Not 'fell.' Like it's going to happen again."

"I didn't mean it like that," she sighs. "I just meant every time I've been a mess in the past, which has been a lot, she's been the one to help me out of it."

"Gee, thanks. Nice to know I have such a positive effect on you." There's nothing like a bit of honesty to remind me of my past mistakes. To my surprise, she doesn't rise to the bait, but leans her head back on the headrest.

"I didn't mean that, either," she says in a defeated tone as we stop at a set of red lights. "Stop trying to pick a fight."

I lean forward and rest my head on the steering wheel, letting my hair fall forward to hide my face. I don't deserve her. She certainly doesn't deserve this shit from me when all she's doing is being a good friend. "I'm sorry," I mumble.

"I'm sorry too," she says, and her hand squeezes my thigh again. "Believe me, I don't want to miss tonight. I want to be there screaming and cheering for you. But what sort of friend would I be if I left Callie heartbroken after all the times she has looked after me?"

She's right, of course.

"I know," I mutter. "I'm being a dick. Ignore me."

The traffic in front begins to move off again and we continue towards Callie's, Jess's directions the only words we utter. I back my car into a tight space in the car park of a small block of flats, and she's unbuckling her seat belt before I've even killed the engine.

"Thanks," she says, leaning across the central column to give me a kiss.

"I'll give you a hand up with your drinks," I tell her. This is actually a prime opportunity to see with my own eyes whether Callie is actually miserable and heartbroken like she claims to be, or if this was all just a stunt to keep me away from Jess.

"No need, I can manage."

"It's fine," I argue. "You could hardly carry them from the shop to the car. I don't mind."

I jump out of the car and scurry round to the passenger side, opening the door and picking up the two bags of drinks from the footwell. I try not to look too interested as I follow Jess into the building and down the hallway to what is presumably Callie's front door. When she opens it, she doesn't hide her lack of enthusiasm that it is me delivering her prize. 

I follow Jess through the hallway and into a galley-style kitchen, setting the bags on the worktop just as Jess reaches into her bag and pulls out her phone which I hadn't even heard ringing. "I'll be two seconds," she says apologetically, and as she disappears through the doorway I hear her say, "Mum, can I call you later? Or tomorrow morning from the airport?"

I look over at Callie who, despite her obvious displeasure at seeing me, does indeed look a rather sorry state. Her eyes are red and bloodshot, her face is blotchy and she looks miserable. I should feel sorry for her, but it isn't easy.

"Sorry to hear about... your situation," I begin awkwardly, and she glares at me.

"I don't need sympathy from you. Take a good look Harry, because the way I am now is nothing to how Jess was when she found out about your night of fun with your model pal."

"Callie," I begin, as calmly as I can, in a low voice so Jess doesn't hear, "I know you hate me for that. And that you're determined to make me suffer for it indefinitely. But I'm not asking you to be my friend, or even like me. I'm asking you to give me Jess's One Direction stuff - "

"Why?" she demands. "I don't get what the obsession is with it. Your ego gets stroked on a daily basis from all your little fans screaming everywhere you go. Why is it so important to you that Jess shows that same level of adoration?"

I blink in surprise. "This isn't about me," I assure her. "This is because I know how important that stuff is - was - to Jess. I know she only got rid of it because it hurt her to much to look at it, and as I was the one responsible for causing that hurt, I feel it is my responsibility to mend it. It took a lot for her to forgive me; no one knows that more than me. But I think this game you're playing has more to do with you wanting me to suffer, more than it is about protecting your friend."

Callie raises her eyebrows, a smirk forming on her face. "Really? You're psycho-analysing my motives now, are you?"

"I just don't understand why you want to punish Jess, since you claim you want her to be happy," I reply, fighting to keep my face impassive. This woman really knows how to push buttons.

"May I remind you," she says through gritted teeth, leaning towards me furiously, "that Jess doesn't even know I've still got her stupid memorabilia. If I'd just chucked the stuff in the dustbin like she'd asked me to, we wouldn't even be having this conversation!"

"Exactly!" I hiss back, leaning towards her too. "You kept it, because you thought she might want it back one day! And I owe it to her to make this right!"

"Until I'm satisfied you're not going to hurt her again, you're not going anywhere near it," she spits. "I could turn her against you with a click of my fingers if I wanted to. So you'd better start showing you're serious about turning over a new leaf if you want it back!"

I actually want to strangle her. Manipulative, spiteful witch.

"I don't know where you get off holding me to ransom like this!" I hiss furiously. "It's not your place to judge! So stop putting pressure on me. I'm trying to do the right thing!"

And then I sense a sudden change in atmosphere, and Callie's face drops in shock. I turn around swiftly to see Jess standing in the kitchen doorway, her phone in her hand, clearly wondering what the hell is going on.

---***---

Hello! I wanted to post this update as it's been written for a few days now and I keep coming back to it while I'm writing the next chapters to add things in and make the story fit together. (I'm a little out of practice writing real-life Harry, and have had to do some extensive research on these chapters as the 1D schedule was crazy in November 2015!) But at last it's finished, and I'm behind on my word goal again so I'm going to have to pull a couple of late nights I think to get back on track!

How is everyone? Are you enjoying the Trace updates? Let me know in the comments :) xxx