My heart pounded as I nervously checked my reflection in the mirror for the hundredth time and wiped my palms on my leggings. I arranged my hair around my face, and then flicked it away again, over my shoulder. I didn't want to look as though I was trying too hard.

I paced the lounge, fluffing the sofa cushions, lighting a cherry-scented candle and then hastily blowing it out, and flicking through the TV channels looking for something neutral to put on. I was trying so hard to act natural that everything now seemed forced. I was over-thinking, again.

I sighed and went into the kitchen to check on dinner, and opened the oven door to see the cheese bubbling nicely on top of the dish of lasagne. I wasn't sure how much Harry would have eaten on the flight, or how long he was intending on staying, so I'd spent over an hour preparing a homemade meal, my thinking being that he had spent most of this year so far on tour eating aeroplane food and hotel meals, and would probably be thankful for something homecooked if he was hungry.

I was just wondering if I had over-thought all of this, too, when I heard the front door of the building slamming shut downstairs. My heart lurched sickeningly as I strained to hear footsteps, trying to work out if it was Harry, before I heard a soft knock at the door.

"It's open," I started to call, but as I hadn't spoken in about two hours it came out as an inaudible squeak.

I rolled my eyes at my own uncoolness and walked quickly to the front door, clearing my throat. I pulled it open and felt a flutter of nerves as I looked up into Harry's face. He was wearing a white shirt that was of course unbuttoned to reveal half his chest, and black skinny jeans. His hair was down around his shoulders but pushed back at the front by his sunglasses which were resting on the top of his head.

"Hi," I said, thankful that for once my voice was steady and I sounded confident and relaxed.

"Hey," he replied, smiling softly. My stomach flipped.

I stood to the side and he walked into my flat, a small holdall slung over his shoulder.

"Planning on staying a while?" I teased, inclining my head at his bag.

"If you'll have me," he shot back, glancing over his shoulder at me, a grin on his face.

I shut the door behind us and he walked down the hall, coming to a stop between the kitchen and the lounge, seemingly unsure where to go.

"Go on through," I said, gesturing to the lounge. "Do you want a cup of tea or anything?"

"Yeah, tea would be great, th - what's cooking?"

His eyes had lit up and he was looking at me with contained excitement.

"It's lasagne," I told him. "I wasn't sure if you'd be hungry, or if you'd want to get off home, or..." I trailed off, embarrassed at this whole stupid idea. I didn't even know if he liked lasagne.

"Is it for me?" he asked shyly.

"Well, yeah, if you want it," I replied, equally as shyly.

"I'm starving," he admitted.

"OK, well, it'll be ready in about fifteen minutes," I said. "Why don't you, um, take your boots off and make yourself comfortable, or something."

"Would you mind if I get changed?" he asked. "I'm feeling a bit gross. It was a long flight."

"Do you want a shower?" I offered, pulling my fingers awkwardly.

He hesitated. I could tell he wanted to, but also that he wasn't sure if I was offering out of obligation.

"You've got plenty of time before dinner," I added. "I can turn the oven down. Take your time."

He cleared this throat. "If you're sure you don't mind...?" he said eventually. "I don't want it to be weird or anything."

I shrugged. "It's not like you've never had a shower here before. Towels are in the airing cupboard. Help yourself."

"OK, thanks," he said. He threw me a soft smile and then picked up his bag and disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door.

While he showered I went into the kitchen and warmed the plates, then as soon as I heard the water switch off (I tried not to think about him naked only a few metres away from me) I took the lasagne out of the oven and spooned it onto the plates, along with some pre-packed salad. I was just putting them on the table when he appeared in the kitchen doorway in a pair of black joggers and a Green Bay Packers tshirt, his hair wet around his face.

"Your hair looks so long when it's wet," I remarked, and he smiled and slid onto a chair at the table.

"Thanks for the shower," he said gratefully. "I really needed that."

I poured us both drinks and then sat down opposite him, and we began to eat.

"So how have you been?" I asked.

"OK," he shrugged. "The US schedule was gruelling. I was flying back to my house in LA whenever we had a couple of days' break, and now I'm exhausted. The flights alone are exhausting, never mind the shows."

I nodded, and watched as he shoved a forkful of pasta into his mouth.

"How are the others?" I asked. "The other boys, I mean? Are they glad to be back home now?"

"I think so," he said after he finished chewing. "We've got a busy few weeks ahead. Everyone seems to be looking towards the end of the tour, but in reality we've still got a lot of commitments to come. We're back in the US again in November for a few weeks, and then our last performance is the X Factor final in the middle of December."

"Last performance," I repeated. "That's going to be emotional."

"For who, you?" he teased, looking up at me and grinning.

"Don't tell me you won't feel a shred of emotion after five and a half years," I retorted, and he chuckled.

"Maybe," he conceded. "But I bet you a tenner you'll be wailing by the end."

I looked at him through narrowed eyes and he laughed harder.

"Don't piss me off, Harry," I said, pointing my fork at him.

"You can't stay cross with me for long," he grinned, and then the smile slid off his face as presumably he remembered I hadn't been speaking to him properly since June, because he'd slept with someone else behind my back.

There was an awkward minute's silence while we carried on eating, staring steadfastly down at our plates.

"So how come you're working back in London again?" he asked.

I sighed. "I was missing home. And they wanted me to make a decision about the position. They needed someone permanent, and while it was a great opportunity, I couldn't honestly see myself relocating to Cardiff. My life is here in London. All my friends are here, my flat is here, and my family is only an hour's drive away. Cardiff was too far away. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to come back. I took that job as a knee-jerk reaction to everything that had happened. I was just running away. But it served its purpose, and I'm glad I went for the time I did."

"What do you mean, it served its purpose?"

I jiggled my feet nervously as I tried to think how to word this without sounding like a complete loser.

"I just needed to get out of London for a bit, and clear my head. That job came up at just the right time. It meant I could run away from everything and gain career experience in the process. But I knew, deep down I think, that I didn't want it permanently. I was so lonely living in a hotel all the time, far away from everyone I knew. The staff in the other office were great, but I missed home. I wanted my own bed, in my own flat, near my friends."

"I understand how you feel," he muttered, and it struck me that this was the life Harry had led for the past five years or so.

"I bet," I said, softly. He looked up at me and gave me a half smile, and I smiled back.

"So you're back in London for good?" he asked.

"Well, for the foreseeable future, unless someone whisks me off into the sunset," I joked, but he didn't laugh. "What about you - what are you going to be doing next year on your break?" I asked.

"I haven't decided fully yet," he said. "I've been writing songs while we've been touring, but not just for our next album. Some of them I want to keep for myself, and either record them officially with my own vocal or give them to other artists. Jeff's dad wants to manage me once I'm out of my contract with Modest, but we've yet to discuss it properly."

"When is your contract up?" I asked, feeling a jolt of happiness at the thought of Harry waving goodbye to Karen and her ruthless scheming.

"Early next year," he replied. "So I'll be looking to finalise my new management towards the end of this year."

"Wait a minute," I said, a new thought striking me. "If you sign with Jeff's dad, does that mean you'll be living in LA permanently?"

He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment. "Not necessarily. But if that's the route I choose to go I'll definitely be spending more time over there."

"Oh," I said.

Why did this idea make me want to cry?

I stared down at my almost empty plate, feeling sad and confused all of a sudden. I had just sort of taken for granted that once One Direction's break started, Harry would be around a lot more, and I had been quite liking this idea. I knew in my heart I was starting to thaw a bit towards him, but I also knew there was still a long way to go. However, this latest piece of news had thrown everything upside down again, in my head at least.

"That was amazing," he sighed, putting his fork down on his plate and leaning back in his chair.

I looked up at him and smiled. "I'm glad you liked it. I was worried it would be a bit full-on. I didn't want to make a big deal out of this."

"Out of what?" he asked, looking at me with confusion.

"This," I said, gesturing to the two of us. "Any of it. I didn't want to put any pressure on us. On anything. I was worried it might be too intense... I dunno..." I trailed off and looked away. "You know I overthink everything."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw him grin. "You? Never."

"Alright," I snapped, only half serious. "We both know I'm a loser. No need to admit it so quickly."

He grinned again and said nothing, so I stood up to clear the plates away. I wasn't sure if he had to get home, but I didn't want him to go just yet.

"Do you want that cup of tea now?" I offered, and he stood up and nodded.

"Yeah, I was wondering when that was going to materialise," he said slowly.

"You had water with your dinner!" I protested. "What did you expect - a plate of lasagne and a brew?"

He held his hands up in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm just saying you offered me tea and it never arrived."

"Go and sit in the lounge," I instructed, rolling my eyes at him. "I'll be in in a minute."

"As long as I get the One Direction mug," he said over his shoulder as he left the kitchen.

"I don't have a One Direction mug," I called back.

"Fibber," I heard him mutter as I flicked the kettle on.

I walked to the doorway of the kitchen and looked across the hall at him as he sat down on the sofa. "Actually, I'm not," I said, folding my arms. "I binned it all after..."

Fuck.

His face fell again and he looked away and down at his hands. I bit my lip in embarrassment and quickly went back into the kitchen to finish making the tea. I brought the two mugs into the lounge and set them down on the coffee table, and then sat on the opposite end of the sofa to Harry, cross-legged and facing him.

"Sorry," he said softly, not looking at me.

"For what?" I asked, knowing full well what he meant but stalling for time.

"For cheating on you, and hurting you, and ruining our relationship to the point where you binned everything connected to One Direction," he said, bluntly.

"Harry," I sighed. "Let's not talk about that stuff now."

"I think we need to," he muttered.

"Maybe, one day," I nodded. "But not today. Not for a while. I don't want to bring that up yet. Let's just keep tonight casual. Fun, even."

He looked over at me, his mouth twisting into a smile. "You're actually having fun with me?"

"Yeah," I smiled back. "Aren't you?"

"Yeah, but I didn't want to get my hopes up."

"Harry," I began again, softly, and his face dropped again and he looked away. "Harry, I don't want to lead you on with this," I said. "I meant what I said in Cardiff, and over text. I don't want you hanging around waiting for me, hoping we're going to get back together. I may be being terribly presumptuous in saying that, because for all I know you've moved on and you're with someone else now-"

"I'm not," he interrupted.

"Well if the chance comes up and you like someone, don't hold back because of me," I said. "I don't want to bring up all this again right now, except to say nothing's changed."

"OK," he said, shortly. "I get it."

OK," I echoed, softly, and watched him as he stared at the TV, his mouth set in a hard line.

I knew I had pissed him off, but I was trying so hard to do the right thing by him. I wasn't trying to lead him on or give him false hope by inviting him to my flat, but I knew it probably looked like I was deliberately messing him around. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"Are you with someone else?" he asked, suddenly.

"No, of course not," I replied. "The whole point of us staying apart is for me to take some time to breathe, and sort my life out on my own. I'm not interested in being with anyone at the moment."

"Did you really bin all your merchandise?" he asked, after a pause.

"Yeah - well, Callie binned it for me. I didn't have the strength to do it myself at the time, but I knew I needed it gone."

He snapped his head up to look at me, and stared at me for a moment before slowly nodding and looking back at the TV again.

"What have you got planned for the next few days, before your next show?" I asked after a minute.

He sighed, and ran his hand through his hair that was still wet against his neck and shoulders.

"I've got a party at Loulou tomorrow," he said. "It's hosted by Love Magazine, as part of London Fashion Week. One of my exes, Cara, will most likely be there, just so you know."

"You don't have to warn me about stuff like that," I said, gently.

He shrugged. "Just being open and honest with you. And then we're playing the Roundhouse in Camden, for the Apple Music Festival - Gemma's coming to that, with a date, apparently." He wrinkled his nose and I grinned.

"A date? Who with?"

"Some guy she's just started seeing," he said, and he didn't look too happy about it.

"Don't you like him?" I asked.

"I haven't met him yet," he said. "I just always worry that the guys Gemma dates aren't genuine, y'know? Like they've got an ulterior motive. Because of me," he clarified, and then he looked ashamed. "I know that makes me sound unbelievably arrogant, and I don't think for one minute that Gemma isn't capable of attracting a guy on her own merits, but...." He gave a sigh.

"I get it," I nodded. "You're just looking out for her. It's what brothers do."

We exchanged a smirk, Calvin's aggressive behaviour an unspoken joke floating between us.

"I'm just paranoid one of them will turn out to be using her or something, and she'll end up getting hurt," he confessed.

I was silent for a moment.

"I don't blame you for thinking like that," I said, eventually. "It could happen. You're right to be wary, and I'm sure she understands that."

"I knew you'd get it," he mumbled, running his hand through his hair again, pushing it out of his face.

We both stared at the TV for a couple of minutes.

"Do you want to watch a film or something?" I suggested. "Unless you've got to get back home..."

"A film would be great," he smiled, reaching forward for his mug. His hair fell in his face again. "Jess," he said, closing his eyes in what looked like embarrassment. "Can I ask you something I have never asked you before in my life?"

My stomach wobbled and my heart missed a beat and then started racing. "Um, OK," I said, with trepidation.

"Do you have a spare elastic hair band thingy I could borrow?" he asked sheepishly.

We looked at each other for a moment, and I felt a bubble of laughter rising in me. Harry's lips twitched and a snort escaped me, and then we were both laughing hysterically on the sofa, so hard that my stomach hurt.

"I haven't got any in this bag," he tried to explain, which made us laugh even harder.

I wiped away tears as our hysteria eventually subsided, and I stood up to fetch Harry a hair elastic. I tossed a neon pink one at him, and he pulled a face at it before reaching up and yanking his hair off his face into a bun.

"That's better," he remarked. "It was doing my head in. It kept getting in my way."

I flicked through the film channels until we found one just starting, and then I curled up on the sofa and picked up my mug. I looked along the sofa at Harry who seemed so far away and all alone. He looked up and caught my eye, and then scooted along the seat towards me and rested his head against my upper arm. I moved so I was lying on my back with my head against the armrest, and he was lying on his side next to me with his head on my stomach, his arm draped over my legs.

It was too familiar for our current relationship status; I knew we were crossing a line. But I couldn't push him away. I wanted him close to me.

It was the hardest thing in the world, to be in love with someone but to have to keep them at arm's length, at the risk of losing them, all because I knew I had to take things slowly. I wanted nothing more than to ask him to wait for me, until I had decided whether or not I would ever be able to trust him enough to give things another go, but I knew this would be terribly unfair on him. What if I decided in a couple of months that I couldn't get past everything that had happened between us, and he had hung around waiting for me all that time, only to be cast away at the end of it? I couldn't be that selfish, and I honestly believed I was doing the best thing for both of us in trying to keep my distance.

Letting him close to me again like this was going against everything I'd said and felt, but I couldn't deny that his body felt so right against mine, and as I ran my fingers over his damp hair and he slowly closed his eyes in contentment I felt myself relaxing into this embrace. I craved this closeness with him. I had missed him so much.

His breathing deepened, and I shifted my position and looked down at him to see his eyes were shut tight and his face was completely relaxed.

"Harry?" I murmured, softly, but he didn't answer. He was fast asleep.

I stayed there on the sofa and watched TV until my eyes were drooping. Harry didn't move a muscle, not even when I slid out from underneath him to take the empty mugs to the kitchen and get ready for bed. I changed into my pyjama shorts and tshirt and brushed my teeth, and then went back into the lounge. I wasn't sure if he needed to be somewhere in the morning, or even tonight, and wondered whether I should wake him.

And then I decided he'd had enough of being pulled from pillar to post, and he hadn't mentioned anything to me about any prior engagements, and that he deserved a night off.

I pulled the blanket off the back of the sofa and laid it over him gently, making sure his shoulders were covered so he wouldn't be cold, and then fetched a glass of water and left it on the coffee table in case he woke up thirsty in the night. I bent over him and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, and without warning he reached