Love in Photographs

16. The Exact Opposite of Punishment

The car comes to a stop, and Harry and I are escorted through a door down a vacant hallway and into an elevator. From there, we're taken down another hallway until we're in a corridor. We stand there, and for a moment I'm confused. The security guard with us moves alone to a door guarded by two other security guards, knocking and motioning to people inside.

    A few seconds later, the actual Chris Martin pops out of the door, smiling widely at Harry and hugging him briefly. I struggle to maintain my composure.

    "How's boyband life, man?" Chris asks Harry, who just laughs.

    "Good, good." He smiles.

    "Still no dance moves?" Chris asks him, laughing.

    "Fortunately, no." Harry smiles.

    "I'm glad you decided to come to a show," Chris tells him, then glances over at me.

    Harry follows his glance.

    "This is my girlfriend, Rhiannon Oliver. Rhiannon, you know who this is." Harry smiles and I shake Chris' hand.

    "It's such an honor to meet you," I say pathetically, and he smiles at me.

    "Girlfriend, huh?" Chris smirks. "The elusive bachelor is officially tied down. Where are you from? Sounds like maybe the southern half of the US."

    "Alabama," I laugh, forgetting my accent probably stuck out like a sore thumb around them.

    "You would like a southern girl," Chris laughs.

    I turn beet red and Harry smiles, embarrassed, ruffling his hair out of habit.

    "Let me guess," Chris continues. "Model? Actress?"

    I knit my eyebrows together in shock and confusion. Apparently, he's also aware of Harry's dating repertoire. It has to be that. I don't look like a model and my acting is terrible.

    "Hardly," I laugh. "I'm a photographer."   

       

    "Photographer? So you're behind the lens?" He asks and I nod.

    "It's how we met," Harry says. "Actually, we met before then, but neither of us knew who the other was."

    "You didn't know who Harry was?" Chris asks incredulously, and I shake my head.

   

    "She knew who you were," Harry scoffs, faking offense. "The second I mentioned a Coldplay gig she went crazy."

    I roll my eyes as my cheeks turn even redder.

    "Well, she's got a good taste in music," Chris says, looking behind us. "Nick!"

    We focus our attention on where he's looking, and I see a guy about the same age as Chris nearing us. Harry seems to know him.

    Harry hugs the guy, and they talk for a moment, laughing hysterically. I don't like to assume things, but if I had to guess, I would guess that Nick was gay

    "And this must be the hot photographer," Nick says, turning his attention to me, Harry and I both turning red. "Rhiannon, right? He used to have a thing for Rihanna, so I guess he's keeping with similar names. I'm Nicholas Grimshaw."

    I laugh, mostly at how he pronounces "Ree-ann-err".

    "That's me," I laugh. "It's lovely to meet you."

    "Have you told her who I am, Harold?" He turns to Harry, who just shakes his head and chuckles, walking back to me and wrapping his arm around my waist. "Of course you haven't, I'm the least famous friend, aren't I? Has it officially come to this?"