Eyes Behind the Camera

Chapter Three: Louis Tomlinson.

A smile still evident on my face, I  gently prise out the tape recorder that's been hiding underneath my dress for the past hour or so. It's a miracle it's laid undiscovered, looking at the tight dress that clings to my curves. After examining it for any visible scratches or damage, I listen to the recording.

"Trust me," a husky voice rings out from it. "You can never have too much fun."

My smile widens. Perfect.

I feel pride at knowing I'll be the reason the magazines next day will have Harry's face plastered all over them, and the headline screaming: 'Harry Styles, the flirt'. I sit back, satisfaction at my first success.

It's going to be a lot easier manipulating these boys than previously anticipated.

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Saturday. 12:00 pm. My phone finally buzzes, after an agonizing wait. As I expected, the media have gone wild for the information I've brought to them. They devoured the news hungrily, like a pack of starving dogs eating the first piece of meat they've had in weeks. Harry's face flashes up everywhere, on front pages of sloppy magazines and his name discussed eagerly by groups of giggling fans. Seeing the articles as my work, something I've done alone. Dish the dirt on Styles, his personal life. Something him and his band had gone to painstaking lengths to keep private from the media. And now, all their hard work was gone.

Good job with the article on Harry Styles, Jones. From now on, I dictate which member you target. This time I want you to go after Louis Tomlinson. I want you to tackle the 'Larry' issue once and for all. I'll send you his current location. Bring your camera.

I knew about 'Larry Stylinson' rumours. We all had. How the two acted around each other had reason to stir up a rumour that two of One Direction band members were secretly in a relationship, hidden from the public. Many liked the idea of two young boys, who had difficulty confessing their love for each other publicly. Maybe it was because 'young love' was so sickeningly sweet it brought smiles to sentimental fools' faces. But not me. I had no belief in 'true love' or 'love at first sight'. I'd shut myself out from love a long time ago.

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Walking along a bustling London street, I try to recall my short knowledge of Louis Tomlinson. I knew he was one fifth of the band, and one of the most-liked. Possibly because he was seen as a 'cheeky chappy', with his quirky personality, attitude and good looks. I remember his split from his long-term girlfriend, Eleanor Calder. It was big news, quickly eaten up by the media. I remember reading about his 'devastation' when she'd told him she simply couldn't cope with their relationship. She'd used his fame as an excuse, saying she'd 'rarely be able to see him, because he was touring one country after the next', being given a two-page spread in a big magazine to explain how 'worried she was with all the female attention he got'. I snort when I remember seeing a photograph of her, tears brimming in her big brown eyes. It was all a big lie. An excuse to break up with a boyfriend she'd lost interest in.

I run a hand through my hair, perfectly styled to look like natural waves tumbling past my shoulders, when really, it's the result of a curling iron. I had natural makeup on; the hint of mascara, pale foundation and a sweep of lip gloss, and I was currently wearing a pair of denim shorts paired with a baggy, loose-fitting brown shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Hat tipped on my head, sunglasses dangling from the crook of my top, I survey the area.

The address Josie sent me led me to a quaint café, tucked away in a corner of a busy London street. I can easily imagine a big star like Louis Tomlinson visiting here. It was perfect to take a break from media attention, and soak in the tranquil environment. Except I was here to do the opposite.