No Control (Book 1)

65. They Don't Know About Us

Harry left around 11am the next day and I took a long hot shower, taking my time getting ready. I jumped on the tube to Canary Wharf and met Callie and her mum for lunch, and we spent the afternoon sipping cocktails in a swanky bar overlooking the River Thames.

We had a light bite around 5pm, and then got back on the tube to the O2 Arena, arriving around 6.30. We found our seats and I found myself glancing around looking for Harry, even though I knew I would never see him amongst all these people, and he would obviously be in a private box somewhere surrounded by security. 

He had put me, Callie and Barbara (Callie's mum) on the guest list for the afterparty which was being held at a bar in Central London, and had arranged for a car to collect us from the arena and take us straight there. 

We had agreed we would be staying clear of each other for the evening as we had the meeting with Modest the following day and didn't want to cause a stir before we'd spoken to them, but I couldn't deny I was looking forward to seeing Harry. Even though it had only been a few hours since I'd last seen him, I missed him.

Fleetwood Mac came on late, but it was worth the wait. Although I wasn't strictly a fan, their live performance was incredible and I could appreciate how brilliant they were. Barbara was screaming as loud as me at a One Direction concert, and Callie was mortified.  By the time they finished it was gone 11pm and our car was waiting to the side of the main entrance of the arena. I recognised Paul as soon as he stepped out of the car, and I gave him a beaming smile, which he returned.

"It's good to see you again - I wasn't expecting you," I said as I climbed into the back seat of the black Mercedes.

"Good to see you too," he smiled. "Harry specifically requested I pick you up. He thought you might prefer a friendly face."

"He's definitely a keeper, from the sounds of things," Barbara remarked.

"He is pretty amazing," I agreed.

It took us twenty minutes to get to the venue in the traffic from the concert, and I felt very self-conscious approaching the bouncers outside the bar and giving them my name. There were four or five paparazzi outside who started taking pictures as soon as they recognised me, and I was thankful the doorman immediately stood aside and let the three of us in.

We walked straight up to the bar and were handed a complimentary glass of champagne each, and we stood to the side nervously, watching people coming in through the doors. There were a few famous people I recognised, but the majority were just nameless faces that blended into the crowd.

I was just wondering where Harry had got to, as there had so far been no sign of him, when suddenly there was a lot of commotion by the front door, and I could hear shouting coming from outside. People started looking over to see what was going on, and as I looked up I saw a group of people walk in the door, Harry and Gemma among them.

My heart gave a huge jump as my eyes came to rest on his face, and I watched him from across the room, enjoying the fact I could just observe him without him knowing.

Behind me a couple of girls were commenting on Harry's arrival, but they weren't fans - I caught the words "cocky" and "aloof", and then "so far up his own arse he can see what he had for dinner."

I turned around, my eyes blazing, and opened my mouth to give them a piece of my mind when I felt a small hand squeeze my upper arm, and Callie's voice whispered in my ear, "Don't, Jess."

"What... but... they're fucking slagging him off!" I hissed. "They don't even know him!"

"You don't know that for sure," she said. "Maybe they do. But the last thing you need is to start an argument and draw attention to yourself."