Harry Styles is spending the summer in a quiet villa on the French Riviera, hoping to find inspiration for his third album. It's not happening. When he sees a beautiful windsurfer racing across the waves, he believes lessons might be a good distract...
Harry worked long hours over the weekend, and they didn't see one another until their lesson on Monday. He was waiting, shirtless, wearing his harem pants, with his phone in one hand and a beer in the other.
"Harry, you can't sail like that."
"I'm not having a lesson today."
"I turned down two students this afternoon. Why didn't you call me?"
"I said I'm not having a lesson. Adam wants to learn. He's nearly my size, so he can use the board you brought. I honestly didn't think it would be a problem."
"I suppose it's not. Let me take the boards down."
He set his beer and phone on the hood of her truck and lifted the gear out of the bed. "It's the least I can do."
Adam wasn't as gifted a student as Harry, but he was up and sailing, albeit wobbly, by the time they were done. They loaded the equipment and joined the others on the terrace.
"Harry documented your lesson, Adam." Charlotte was catching some early evening sun by the pool. "Although I'm not sure it was actually you he was photographing."
Harry threw a lemon slice at her from the bar.
"I could use some new pictures for my flyers, if you don't mind being on my publicity, Adam?" Lia was avoiding the implications of Charlotte's comment.
Adam nodded his head, "I'd be honored. That was a lot of fun. Could I sign up for a few more?"
"Of course. I'll get busy down at the beach after the first of July, but I have plenty of time in the next week. We can't double up with Harry because he's more advanced than you, but I could come an hour earlier on Wednesday and Friday."
Suddenly Charlotte and Sarah wanted lessons as well. They would be back to back on Thursday. Lia wasn't available on Tuesday; she and Harry were going to Marseille for their tattoos.
She had pored over the internet and found different elements to blend together in her perfect tattoo. The setting sun, its rays blowing in the wind, over a breaking wave. She hoped her amateur drawing would be enough for the artist to work from. Like Harry, she had chosen plain black ink. It would be just smaller than the palm of her hand. She couldn't wait.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Harry wouldn't tell her what he planned to get, or where it would be.
*****
Lia was ready when they arrived to pick her up Tuesday morning, wearing a relaxed sundress, at Harry's suggestion. She could raise it over her hip while the artist worked, and it wouldn't irritate the new tattoo afterward.
If he had been carefully camouflaged for the market, Harry was artfully exposed for Marseille. A plain tank was topped with an open silk camp shirt in a beautiful floral print. The sparrows on his chest peeked out from the tank and the tattoos on his forearms were fully visible. He wore loose khaki shorts that hit just above the knee.
