Picture Perfect

Once settled into the spacious room I would only be staying in for two days, I plopped down straight on the bed, completely exhausted. This room was huge compared to my small apartment in the heart of New York City. Not even a minute into my rest, my phone chimed its obnoxious ring.

FROM HARRY: Get dressed. We’re going to dinner. I’ll be picking you up in 15 minutes. The whole gang is going. “Bonding time”!

Suppressing a sigh, as I had just gotten comfortable, I quickly tapped at the touch screen keyboard of my iPhone.

TO HARRY: Okay! Gotcha. Formal of casual?

FROM HARRY: Semi-formal, I guess? Fancy restaurants are the usual dinner getaway as less fans would be let in – less fans means a happier Paul. We’re going to go back to our room to “bond” some more later, haha. So not too fancy – you’ll want to be comfortable.

TO HARRY: Ok! Or I can just come back and change, duh. See you soon, curly. :)

FROM HARRY: Sounds good. Hey, resentful! Don’t bad mouth the curls.

TO HARRY: Oh, shush! Literally, haha – I have to get dressed!

As soon as my phone was stowed away in a clutch I’d picked out at random, I rushed over to the suitcases I hadn’t thought to fully unpack – seeing as I’d have to repack when we would be leaving Virginia to our next destination. I pulled out one of the only two formal dresses I had brought along and stared at it for a minute. The white beaded bodice and black skirt would do justice.

I about 10 minutes, I was fully ready. My hair was partially curly – as curly as I could get it in the amount of time permitted. Once I heard the knocks on the door, I waltzed over to the big white door of the suite and opened it. At the door stood a handsome Harry, clad in dress pants, a white colored t-shirt, and a blazer. Though I didn’t know it at that point, during the dinner I had found out it was his signature look.

“You’re looking rather dashing,” I told him, confidence abundant in my voice.

“Not too shabby yourself,” he said as my cheeks flushed with color. “Sean told me to make you take your camera. No clue why he wants photos of us eating, but whatever he says goes.” By this time, Harry stepped into my suite and shut the door behind him.

“Well, that’s a bit weird. Raw candids, much? Hold on, I’ll go grab a camera.”

“Can I come along?”

“Sure,” I walked toward my few camera bags and positioned myself in Harry’s direction. “Pick one!”

“Why me? Surely you know more about cameras than I do, Ms. Professional Photographer.”

“They all have the same basic function – they’re just different models with different lenses! In general, they’re all the same.”

“Well then, okay.” His eyes flickered over all the cameras I thought I would need for the tour. “How about…” He had an internal game of eenie meenie miney moe as he chose, pointing quickly to them, muttering the words under his breath. “This one.” At last, he pointed to a camera. The camera I took on my first couple days of my first tour. A Canon EOS 5D.

“Okay then, curly. I shall take this one with us,” I giggled slightly at the name I called him, watching his nose crinkle in distaste. “Where are Zayn, Niall, Liam and Louis?”

“Waiting in the limo.”

“Let’s go then!”

• • •

“Ugh, that food was to die for!” Louis nearly screamed as we climbed back into the limo.

“I know! I could eat that meal again!” Niall chimed back toward Louis.

“Of course you can, Niall. You’re always hungry,” Harry retorted.

“Yeah, but food is lovely,” Niall interjected.

Zayn spoke back, “I agree; food is very lovely.”

“Food is in fact beautiful,” Liam added.

“I’d marry food if I could. And if it wasn’t viewed as weird in the contemporary society,” I stated.

“See, Harold? Everyone loves food!” Niall said, leaving the limo in a silence. It wasn’t an awkward silence as it was before. We’d found something to talk about in our own side conversations – filling the limo with laugher, whispers, giggles. Zayn had taken a liking to my photography, as did Harry, so we talked about that most of the way back to the hotel.

“So which bands have you toured with?” Zayn was starting to talk to me more. I’d noticed he was just as bashful and shy as I was on a regular basis.

“Actually, you guys are my first real tour. I mean – I’ve toured with other bands, but you’re not exactly ‘mainstream’, parse. You wouldn’t really know them,” I spoke sheepishly.

“Really?” Harry questioned. “Try me.”

“Well a couple months ago, I went on a couple days of New Look’s tour and –“ I was cut off by Zayn’s lips moving.

“Harry likes them, don’t you Harreh?”

“Yeah, I actually do. Really jealous that you toured with him. I’d kill just to see them play one show. What other bands?” Harry asked with a genuine tone of curiosity in his voice.

“The only other bands I’ve toured with are Lydia and The Maine – on the same tour. But I’ve gone to one too many a concerts with press passes.”

“Press passes?” Zayn again.

“Barricaded venues require those who choose to bring in professional cameras – cameras with removable lenses – to have press passes which are released only to those who are on the press pass acceptance list for any band on the tour. I’m sure your manager gives them out to selective people for the venues you’re going to play in – since they are all hosted in barricaded venues for your safety.”

“Oh, that’s really cool. How’d you get yours?” Zayn’s voice rang in my ears.

“I was a house photographer for two sister venues, actually. It was indeed very cool.”

“Can I see some of your work?”

“Me too!” Harry joined.

The rest of the fairly short ride back to the hotel was spent showing Zayn my photography – Harry had gotten a phone call from his mom and I didn’t want to take away his time from family. “We’re here,” Patrick’s voice rang in the car.

“Okay, thank you, Patrick!” Louis screamed excitedly before turning around to face me, a mischievous look on his face. What did this boy have in store for me? “Parker, go get your jammies on, we’re having a sleepover!!!”