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Summary
“Well, what the fuck are we going to do?”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Lou. We can’t contact him. He’s gone totally off the grid.”
“We’ll figure it out, Louis, don’t you worry."
“I just … I was counting on him. I really did like his style, and it took us months to book him for the first tour. How are we supposed to find someone just as good in the next few days, let alone see trial shots?”
“Whoever we find, Lou, they’ll do. We won’t leave you hanging."
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“Li, I just got a message from Louis Tomlinson.”
“Wait … like the singer, Louis Tomlinson?”
“Yeah. He, umm, he wants me.”
“Well done, H, you’ve got a pop star with the hots for you.”
“No, you don’t understand. He … wants me to take pictures. He needs a tour photographer and he …”
“Oh, Harry … Do you think he knows who you are? What did you say?”
“I … don’t think so? It just happened, and I … What do I do?”
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Louis Tomlinson needs a tour photographer, and he thinks he's found the one in the mysterious H on Instagram.
Harry Styles swore he'd never do tour photography again - that is, until he did.