Chapter 14

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(No Control | Holding Me Ransom - 14 - What You're Missing)

My head hurts before I have even opened my eyes; before I am even fully awake. It is the first sensation I am aware of, and I hear myself groan miserably.

I'm lying on my front with my head to the side, one foot hanging off the bed. I keep completely still as I ease into consciousness, letting the memory of last night slowly come back to me.

Libertine. Shots. Niall. Louis. Jess.

I jump up onto all fours suddenly as my heart lurches, and I whip my head around to stare at the other side of the bed. It's empty.

Somehow I knew it would be, even before I looked. It doesn't make it any easier to take.

"Jess?" I call out tentatively into the silent room, swallowing hard.

The sound sends a sharp pain searing across my forehead and I wince, before flopping back onto the bed again on my stomach. I lay still for a moment, contemplating the fact that she has gone. She has walked away from me; walked away without so much as a backward glance.

I feel desperately alone in this unhomely hotel room, cast aside without reason or warning. I suppose this is how she must have felt when she found out about Sara. This thought makes me feel even worse.

She was gone last night before she had even left, that much was obvious.

Why, though? What happened to cause the sudden change of heart? The things she was saying to me last night, about how I am amazing and funny and sexy... were they just the ramblings of a drunk? They didn't seem to be. Her kisses were as passionate and enthusiastic as they have always been. Her touch was as gentle. Why did she leave?

I roll over in bed, squinting at the throbbing inside my head, and reach for my phone. I have a missed call from Karen, and a message:

Call me the minute you wake up.

I delete it. No doubt she only wants to go over what happened last night, and discuss how she can use it to my advantage to salvage my reputation. I'm not interested in that.

I stagger to the bathroom and down a pint of water, before stepping into the shower and passing half an hour staring at my own feet, replaying the events of last night. I wonder what happened to Jess's friends after we left Libertine, and whether Barry was pissed off going home alone. I bet he was counting on scoring with her. The thought of this makes me want to punch his smug face.

I remember intercepting them as he was about to make his move, and convincing Jess to come and talk to me, much to his disgust.

It's then that I recall with a jolt the reason I wanted to talk to her so badly: I was going to tell her everything.

"Fucķ!"

I swear out loud as the realisation hits me that we never had the full conversation. I'd got as far as telling her the band is taking a break next year, but I didn't even get as far as my argument with Louis backstage in Cardiff. The revelation of the impending hiatus had distracted us, and started the chain of events that had led to me burying myself inside her, driving my demons away, while she dug her nails into my back and called out my name.

I shut the water off and grab a towel, feeling suddenly motivated. I will get dressed and ring her. I will ask her to see me, so I can finish explaining everything. I owe her that at least.

As I rub myself with the towel, I have a little wobble. What if she won't see me? What if she won't take my calls? What if she tells me last night was a mistake or worse, she didn't enjoy it and she wants nothing more to do with me?

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