Hiding Behind the Lens

Ally Meyers has loved photography ever since she got her first disposable camera at the age of 6. She loves being able to capture fleeting moments and make them eternal with the push of a button. Yet her constant position behind the camera lens has kept her isolated from relationships. What happens when her passion for photography lands her a job as One Directions personal photographer? Will the luscious lifestyle of the boys take her from the photographer to the photographed? Or will she continue to live vicariously through the filter of her lens?
Well, there’s only one way to find out.
A Harry Styles fanfic.

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10. Vintage Cars and Sketchy Bars

Amy had her mind made up. Allyson Meyers was going to embrace her emotions, whether she chose to or not. It was an ordinary Tuesday morning, the office she worked in always smelled like burnt coffee and the walls were a boring shade of gray. But something in that office was out of place. Allyson Meyers stood patiently behind a desk that was similarly a very boring brown. Allyson’s colorful blouse and skirt stood out against the bland color scheme of the room.

                “Ah, Allyson.” Amy began, “I’m updating the boys website and I’d like to add some more individual photos. I already checked their schedules and Mr. Styles is free today. There’s a rather scenic area I’d like you two to visit….” Amy continued speaking about the area where she was to photograph Harry, but Allyson was only half listening. From what she heard it was some stream surrounded by large rocks out in the middle of nowhere. A pit starting forming in her stomach, she was going to have to cast aside her original plans to waste the day away and suffer a very long car ride, and then a photo shoot with Harry Styles. But she refused to allow her disappointment to show, she was incredibly grateful for this opportunity and wanted Amy to know it.

                “We’ll head out straight away. Where can I find him?”

                Harry Styles was not a happy person. His mates had been more than happy to wake him up for a photo shoot, but their method of doing so involved a cold bucket of water. Why anyone would be awake at such an ungodly hour as 8:32 am was lost on him. After pulling on some jeans and a hoodie he lumbered out of his room and practically into Allyson whom stood waiting patiently out in the hall.

                “Meyers” he whined, “why the hell do you want me so early?”

“We have quite a car ride ahead of us to the area that I’m shooting you.” She replied cooly.

                “Why can’t you just take them in the studio?” He asked irritably.

“Because the back drop that Amy wants on the website isn’t in the studio.” With that said, she started walking down the hall with a rather crabby Harry Styles in tow.  A right turn and a trip down the stairs took them to a parking lot with a single car in it, one that appeared rather old. Allyson was walking in the direction of the driver’s side, but Harry beat her there and a brief argument occurred,

                “Ha, no. I’m driving.” Harry declared, his hand outstretched for the keys. Allyson pulled them back defensively and said,

                “Not a chance. Besides, you don’t even know where we’re going.”

                “This can be a pleasant photo shoot, or a rather unfortunate one.”  Allyson rolled her eyes and passed the keys over, imitating his voice in a snobby manner while walking around the car. Harry turned the key and the engine roared to life, it purred as they sped out of the garage and down a long winding road. It seemed that the two of them bickered about anything and everything they possibly could. They couldn’t agree on a radio station, or what volume they wanted the radio to play. Allyson would criticize his driving skills and Harry would respond with a comment about her ability to photograph. When she wasn’t bickering, Allyson struggled to unfold and read an abnormally large map.

                “Could you put that thing down? I can’t see the bloody road!”

                “I told you to take a left, you need to turn around.”

                “And I told you that you were reading it wrong.”

                “Your eyes should be on the road! How would you know if I was reading it wrong?”

Harry was preparing a witty reply when he was so rudely interrupted by the sound of backfire, shortly followed by wisps of smoke rising from the engine. For a split second he took his eyes off the road to share a confused look with Allyson. Rather unfortunately he ran over a pothole, jerked the steering wheel and rolled into a grass field, miles from any civilized looking establishments. For a moment they were both still and quiet, gazing at the smoking engine in front of them in utter disbelief. And then the bickering started again.

                “You bloody idiot! We’re stuck in the middle of flipping nowhere!”

                “I didn’t ask to do a photo shoot in the middle of flipping nowhere!”

                “I didn’t force you to drive and then refuse to stop for gas!”

                “Whatever, I’m going to check under the hood.”

                “I doubt you know anything about cars.” Allyson muttered.  Ignoring her comment, Harry popped the hood and studied the car. Not wanting to return to Amy empty handed she produced her camera and waited for Harry to show his face. Eventually he sat back in the driver’s seat and wiped his brow. Allyson snapped a few pictures.

                “Are you bloody kidding me? You’re using this as a photo opportunity?” He miffed.

                “I’m not getting anything worthwhile.” She replied defeated, and as though it had sensed their anger, the sky opened up, and it poured on them.  Harry slid his feet back into the vehicle and slammed the door. He sat there pouting for about 30 seconds before he started wondering why Meyers hasn’t done similarly. He pushed his face against the glass and peered out in enough time to see Allyson jog a short distance to the entrance of a pub. It took him a fraction of a second to let out a disgusted sigh and sprint in the same direction.

                Allyson Meyers entered the pub drenched from head to toe and shivering. The day had been nothing short of disastrous. She couldn’t spend 2 minutes in a car with Harry Styles before he started irritating her.  She took in her surroundings. Apart from a frizzy haired waitress, she was the only female in the place. All of the men were either draining alcohol, or had already consumed ridiculous amounts. Two men in the back sat silently with a beer in one hand and the other firmly on the table. A group of five laughed loudly as the sixth fell off of his chair. They all had poorly groomed beards, most of them still had their sunglasses on, and those that didn’t totally ignore her entranced did not hide the fact that they were ogling her. Without making eye contact, Allyson found her way to the bar, pulled up a stool and sat. When Harry entered, the men were far less intrigued. Some mop top city boy had wandered into the bar and they could care less.  He scanned the room hopelessly. As far as he could see, there were only fat bearded drunkards, and then he heard her.

                Yup. Can always depend on that loud mouth of hers. He laughed to himself. But as he approached, he started to realize the situation. A drunkard had taken a hold of Allyson’s arm, leaned in real close and asked a series of questions.

                “Hey doll, you aren’t from aroun’ ‘ere now are you?” She shrugged him off, but he grabbed her arm again.

                “Don’t touch me.” She stated firmly.

                “Oh I see, I found me self a fiery one, I like ‘em with a bit o’ spirit.” Allyson yanked her arm away and stood. The drunkard moved in front of her to block her path.

                “No, no. Ye can’t be leavin’ just yet. We don’t see a whole lot o’ girls around this pit.” He gave her a toothless smiled and moved towards her, but Allyson stepped back, right into Harry Styles who caught and rebalanced her.

                “You’re not giving the girl here any trouble now are you?” Harry asked, sounding far more intimidating than Allyson thought possible of him. The drunkard didn’t seem to buy the tough guy act though.

                “Listen you little prick, I saw ‘er first.”

                “No you listen you dirty slug!” His voice dripping with venom, “I don’t care if you saw her first, the lady is with me! So get your grimy hands off of her or I’ll make you.” He spat. The quote unquote “dirty slug” didn’t seem to appreciate Harry’s last remark and took a slow swing at Harry, which he easily dodged. Not a trace of fear was present on Harry’s face, only confidence. He swung with all his weight and nailed the drunk right in the jaw, who fell over and made staggering attempt to stand muttering all sorts of profanities. Harry was expecting this however and kicked him on his way up. The drunkard did not bother to mutter this time and wailed colorful metaphors.

 And with that, as though nothing had happened, Harry adjusted his sleeve, put a protective hand around Allyson’s waist and escorted her out of the bar.

                The rain had passed, the only evidence of it being the puddles on the sidewalk. Harry began to speak without the intention of bickering for the first time all day.

                “I called my mates, who were actually not concerned at all. They should be on their way now.” That wasn’t what Allyson cared about at that particular moment.

                “Oh, good.” She paused for a moment. “Thank you, for helping me back in the bar, but really, I can handle myself.” She said sincerely. Harry stopped walking and turned to face her.

                “Well I wasn’t going to let some drunkard bother my photographer, whether she can handle herself or not.” He said grinning, he grabbed her hand and kissed it gently. And in that single moment, Allyson was inexplicably happy. Then, she was blinded by headlights and startled by a car horn, which was followed by the loud laughter of four talented vocalists.

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