The boys were appearing on Good Morning America the following day, and Harry left me well before the crack of dawn sprawled in the superking size bed in our plush hotel room, jet-lagged and exhausted and tangled up in the pure white sheets. I barely cracked open an eye as he kissed me goodbye and promised to ring me when he was on his way back, and I didn't stir until mid morning when I was woken up by my phone ringing on the bedside table. It was Callie.

"Hi," I answered groggily.

"Did I wake you?" she asked, sounding tearful.

"No, no... well, yeah," I admitted. "But I needed to wake up anyway. Are you OK?"

"Yeah," she said, in a small voice. Then, "I miss him."

"Oh Callie," I said softly, as she started to cry. "Have you spoken to him?"

"No," she sniffed. "He hasn't even bothered to check if I'm alright since I walked out of his life."

"What a snake," I breathed. "I know you don't want to hear this yet, but you really are worth so much more than him. He doesn't deserve you, after treating you like this."

"I know," she sobbed. "And I would never go back to him, not even if he begged me. But I can't help missing the way things used to be."

"I understand completely," I empathised, remembering the way I had missed Harry when we'd been apart, yet also hated myself for wanting someone who had hurt me repeatedly.

We talked for over an hour, and by the end of the conversation Callie seemed brighter and happier, particularly when we talked about our planned holiday.

"Have you put the word out about that yet?" I asked.

"No, I've been too busy moping over James," she sighed. "I'll get onto it this week."

"Make sure you do," I insisted. "It'll give you something to focus on. Get an idea of numbers, and a few destinations, and then we can book it when I'm back home."

"When are you back?" she asked.

"Not for a week," I told her. "We're going to the AMAs on Sunday, and then I'm flying home when the boys head out to Mexico."

"Are you walking the red carpet with them?!" Callie squeaked in surprise.

"No!" I answered hastily. "Definitely not!"

"But when are you going public?" she pressed.

"Not yet," I said vaguely. "When it feels right, I suppose. We'd need Modest's backing before we made any grand gestures."

We said goodbye and I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower. I took my time drying my hair, and once I was dressed I noticed a missed call from Harry and a text on my phone from half an hour earlier.

From: Harry: Morning beautiful. On my way back to the hotel now. I love you xxx

I was just typing a reply when I heard a scuffle outside the door. As I looked up I saw the handle turn and Harry entered the room, flipping his hair back with one hand, and dropped his phone onto the table next to mine.

"Hi," I grinned. "How did the show go?"

"Hi baby," he replied, crossing the room to slide his arms around my waist. "It was good, thanks. I missed you, though. Did you watch us?"

"Um, no," I confessed. "I was flat out in bed, sorry. Then Callie rang, and we got chatting about her and James, and then I had a shower and... here you are."

He licked his lips and pressed them together, but said nothing.

"Sorry," I said again. "I didn't intentionally NOT watch it. If I'd woken up, of course I would have."

"It's fine," he said, and leaned down to kiss me.

"Are you sure?" I asked hesitantly. I got the impression it wasn't fine at all.

"Of course," he replied, letting me go. "Have you eaten?"

"Um, no not yet," I replied.

"Do you want to get room service, or go out to eat?" he asked.

"Will we have time to go out before we fly back?" I wondered, and he looked at his watch.

"Hmm. Maybe not. We can order a takeaway though? And I need to pop into Louis' room in a bit too."

"Aren't you tired?" I asked, curiously. "I was exhausted from the flight alone."

"You get used to it," he shrugged, smiling softly at me. "I'll try and stay awake as long as I can to get my sleeping pattern back to US time. But right now I could do with a shower, if you don't mind waiting a bit longer to eat? Have a look and see what room service have to offer."

"Not at all," I smiled, and went over to the little desk by the door to retrieve the menu.

He began pulling his clothes off, and then grinned at me. "You could always come and join me, if you wanted to?"

I made a face of longing at him. "Oh, but I've just dried my hair!"

Seriously? my subconscious scoffed. Millions of women would kill for five minutes in the shower with Harry Styles, and you're moaning about getting your hair wet?!

"On second thoughts, make space for me," I added, before he could reply, and began pulling my jumper off.

"Will do," he grinned. "Hurry up."

He turned and disappeared into the bathroom and I heard the shower switch on as I started to pull my jeans off. A text message sounded, and I stumbled clumsily over to pick up my phone, one leg hooked in the crotch, but realised when I saw Harry's lit up that it wasn't mine. I was about to turn away when I caught sight of the name on his screen.

Callie.

My stomach lurched. It was the early hours of the morning back home. Why was my best friend texting my boyfriend? They barely knew each other. They didn't even like each other. What was going on?

I stared at Harry's phone until the light went out, and then turned away from it and sat down on the bed, my heart beating hard inside my chest; so hard it almost hurt. The memory of them standing close to each other in Callie's kitchen danced in front of my eyes, and I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that their explanations for that hadn't truly added up. I believed that Callie would be likely to give Harry a hard time for what had happened between us, albeit not her place to do so, but it didn't explain the way they had been acting that day. Close... familiar.

Stop it! my subconscious scolded. You're working yourself up over nothing.

I rubbed my face hard and ran my hands through my hair. I had no reason to doubt either of them. They both loved me. They would never do anything to hurt me. I was out of line even thinking like this.

"Jess?" Harry called from the bathroom, his voice rebounding off the marble tiles.

"Coming!" I called back.

"Not yet," he teased, and I quickly pulled off the rest of my clothes and walked into the bathroom in just a pair of knickers.

"What's wrong?" he asked, peering around the steamed up glass shower door. His hair was flat to his head and water was dripping in his eyes. He looked incredible.

"Nothing," I replied.

"There is," he argued. "I can tell by your face. What's up?"

"Nothing," I insisted, and he reached out with a wet hand and pulled me into the shower, still with my knickers on.

"Harry!" I protested, but he pressed his mouth onto mine, swallowing my words and pulling me against his chest so my breasts crushed against his warm, wet skin.

"Yes?" he murmured as we broke apart.

I said nothing as he kissed me again, harder, and slid his arms around my waist and cupped my buttocks. The beginning of his erection pressed gently against my stomach. I pushed away the thoughts of the text from Callie and let him slide his tongue gently into my mouth, and focussed on his fingertips softly pressing into my skin.

He pushed me up against the tiles, running his hands up my body as his kisses became more fervent. He squeezed my breasts gently and his now fully-hard erection pressed more firmly against me. I rested my hands on his waist as his tongue slid over mine, and after a few moments he pulled away and looked at me.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Nothing," I replied again, looking up at him in confusion.

"Something's off, I can tell," he said. "What is it?"

"Harry, I'm fine," I insisted, reaching up to his face.

"I know you, Jessie," he said softly. "There's something you're not telling me."

Ironic, I thought to myself, and then grimaced at my own cattiness.

"You're doing that thing where you argue with yourself in your head, aren't you," he sighed, letting his arms fall to his sides.

"No!" I protested, but he gave me a disbelieving look and turned away to stick his head under the water flow again.

"Don't keep secrets from me," he begged softly, without looking at me.

"Are you keeping secrets from me?" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

He looked at me in surprise. "No," he replied. "Like what?"

"Why is Callie texting you?" I asked in a rush.

He stared at me for a moment, a strange expression on his face. "Have you been looking through my phone?"

"No!" I answered, angrily. "So this isn't the first time you've been in contact with her?"

He turned away again and angled his face upwards to the shower head, squeezing his eyes shut. The water bounced off his skin in a fine mist. I waited, staring at him, and folded my arms across my chest, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

He wiped the water out of his eyes and then switched the shower off and looked at me, the only sound in the room that of the water slowly dripping off his naked body and swirling down the drain.

"What exactly are you getting at?" he asked.

"I'm not getting at anything," I said. "I just saw a text from Callie come through on your phone, by accident. I wasn't snooping; I'm not like that. I'm just curious, as I didn't think you even had her number. It's the middle of the night back home. Why is she texting you?"

He squeezed the water out of his hair. "Well without reading it, I don't know. You tell me."

"I didn't look at it!" I snapped. "I told you, I wasn't prying! I would never and have never invaded your privacy like that!"

He didn't answer, but reached past me and grabbed a huge fluffy white towel from the hook attached to the glass pane and handed it to me, before picking up a second one and wrapping it around his waist. He stepped out of the shower onto the mat and began dabbing his face dry.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"I'm drying myself off and then I'm going to read this text that's got you all worked up," he said coldly.

"Wh - I'm not worked up, Harry," I said, stepping out behind him. "All I did was ask you why she was texting you. I think it's a fair question."

"I don't like the connotation behind it," he said, bluntly.

"What connotation?!" I cried, exasperated, but he ignored me and walked into the bedroom and picked up his phone.

I couldn't help staring at his face as he unlocked it and read the text. His expression didn't change as he stared at his screen for a couple of seconds and then looked up at me.

"So should I read it out, or...?" he began, and the undisguised sarcasm in his voice pressed my buttons all too well.

"No," I snapped. "I'm not asking you to read it out. All I asked was why she might be texting you, as I didn't know you were in contact. Stop acting like a secretive, moody arse and either answer my question or drop the attitude. Or preferably both."

He stared at me, his jaw set in a hard line, and then looked down at his phone again. "She is advising me that the idea I had for your Christmas present is a good one, but that you can't be bought, and to treat you how you deserve."

My stomach dropped to my toes and I swallowed hard as he looked back at me again.

"Happy now?" he asked angrily, and threw his phone down next to mine with a clatter and turned away from me. "If you want to read the message yourself, go ahead," he added, over his shoulder. "But you'll find out what your present is, so it's up to you if you want to ruin the surprise."

I didn't know what to say. I felt humbled and ashamed of almost thinking the worst of them both, but also furious at the way he had accused me of thinking the worst, when all I had done was ask a simple question before I went jumping to conclusions. I hadn't actually accused him of anything. I had been calm and rational about it. Mostly.

"Harry," I began, softly.

"Don't," he interrupted.

"Harry, you're not being fair," I pleaded.

"I'm not being fair?!" he spat, whirling round to face me. "You've just practically accused me of doing... God knows what with your best friend! I don't think you're in any position to judge!"

"Hold on, I didn't accuse you of anything!" I protested, trying hard to keep calm. "You totally flew off the handle. Why didn't you just say that's what it was about when I asked you? Why were you so defensive?"

"Forget it," he muttered, turning away again and sitting down on his side of the bed with his back to me. I stared at the back of his head for a few moments, and then grabbed my clothes and turned and walked back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me a little louder than necessary.

I dried myself off quickly and huffily, and pulled my clothes back on. Once I was dressed I leaned against the sink and stared at my reflection, trying to make sense of what had just happened. I had tried to ignore the text, but Harry had sensed I was off and asked me not to keep secrets. I had then asked him if he was keeping secrets from me, not accused him of doing so. There was a difference. He had hesitated repeatedly before answering me. Why? Why, if he had nothing to hide?

I dropped my face into my hands miserably. How could I even be thinking like this? What did I think he was getting up to with Callie? They had disliked each other from the word go; they were hardly going to be embroiled in a sordid affair. I had known Callie for years, and trusted her with my life. She would never go behind my back, much less with my boyfriend. And as for Harry... we had worked so hard to rebuild the trust between us. Was I really going to knock it all down with one petty argument over something that had already been explained?

I replayed his reaction again in my mind. He had seemed so furious at the idea of being accused of infidelity, but I had been so careful not to point the finger or say those words. I had barely even formed the thought in my head before dismissing it. So why did he jump down my throat so fast?

"None of my girlfriends have ever trusted me, and you can't even begin to imagine what that's like. When you know in your heart you would never be unfaithful, but no one believes you."

My stomach lurched as I remembered Harry's confession in Cardiff, and suddenly it began to make sense. Another conversation forced its way to the forefront of my mind, this time in the car on our way back from Holmes Chapel when Harry had been telling me about Nadine:

"She didn't like me talking to other girls. She always accused me of flirting, when I wasn't - at least, not with any intentions."

I closed my eyes and sighed, and pushed away the tiny nagging feeling in the back of my mind. I would have to swallow my pride and be the bigger person, even though I felt I hadn't really done anything wrong. I was choosing to trust him, and not be led down the slippery slope of self-doubt. I was taking control of this.

I pulled my half-wet hair off my face and tied it into a ponytail and then opened the bathroom door. Harry was now dressed, his hair dry, and sitting in the same place on the bed, hunched forward with his back to me, scrolling through his phone. I crossed the room and sat down next to him, and saw he was reading through his mentions on Twitter.

"Hi," I said softly, but he said nothing and didn't look up. "I'm sorry," I tried again, leaning my head on his shoulder. He didn't respond, but exited Twitter and locked his phone. "I'm not Nadine, Harry," I whispered.

He looked down at me in surprise, and then put one arm around my shoulders and pulled me against him. "I need you to trust me," he said, gruffly.

"I do," I insisted. "I didn't accuse you of anything. I asked you. There's a difference."

He kissed the top of my head and stroked my arm gently. "I'm sorry too. For flying off the handle. Trust is a big thing for me, but I overreacted."

"I'm sorry it seemed like I didn't trust you," I said, putting my arms around him. "I do. I really really do."

"I know," he murmured into my hair.

"I'll tell Callie to back off," I promised.

"No, don't," he said quickly. "I don't want to come between the two of you. She's just looking out for you."

"If you're sure?"

"I'm sure."

He kissed me again and stood up. "Do you want to get something to eat?"

"I'll have to dry my hair again," I said, standing up too, and as I crossed the room to switch on the hairdryer there was a knock at the door. It was Niall.

"Louis' mate just got here," he said over the noise of the hairdryer, after nodding a hello to me. "He's in Louis' room if you want to swing by."

I looked questioningly at Harry as Niall walked off down the corridor. "One of Louis' friends is a tattoo artist," Harry explained. "He's come to talk to Louis about his next piece, and I mentioned I'd like to talk to him about one for me."

"A new tattoo?" I asked with interest. "Where?"

"On my right arm," he said, extending it and indicating to his bicep. "I'm thinking of getting an eagle."

"Nice," I nodded.

"Would you ever get one?" he asked. "A tattoo, I mean."

"I wouldn't know what to get," I confessed. "It's not something I've ever really thought about properly. I think tattoos should mean something. I would never get one just for the sake of it."

"I agree," he said seriously. "You should get, like, 'I heart Harry Styles' on your boobs or something."

"Ha!" I laughed. "You wish."

He grinned. "One-D for ever?" He drew the number four in the air and over-pronounced the last word in a cockney accent so it sounded more like 'ev-ah.'

"Definitely not," I laughed. "I think it's cool when fans get lyrics tattooed in your handwriting though."

"I'll tattoo something on you myself," he offered. "I'll even sign my name, if you're lucky."

"Now there's an offer I can't refuse," I teased. "I'll have to get back to you on that one."

"You're so unappreciative," he moaned, and I laughed harder as he pulled me against him and kissed me softly on the lips, his hair falling gently into my eyes. "Come on. Let's stop by Louis' room. No doubt you'll love that."

"I might ask him to hand-write the word 'Perfect' for me, and get it tattooed across my heart," I said carefully, watching Harry out of the corner of my eye, and he grabbed me in a full body lock and tickled me mercilessly all the way down the corridor to Louis' room.

---***---

So... is Harry really texting Callie about Jess's Christmas present? Is Jess right to ignore her unease and trust Harry? And what do you think he is planning to get her for Christmas?

No Control (Book 1) is almost at half a million reads! If you love this series, please help me hit the milestone by spreading the word! Share the link to Book 1 on Twitter, or even just retweet the pinned tweet on my profile, I would be so grateful! xxx