Tryst

Buenos Aires

It's boring, the little band of diamonds. Which is fitting considering Louis gave it to her. He was Helene's longest relationship to date and he thought it was a good idea to gift her a ring, thank God not the ring. But non mais allo quoi, who gifted somebody a ring for their birthday early in a relationship. And an ugly one.  She's not even sure how it wound up in her tour packing. Things happened fast though. One day she was attending a concert, another taking a few pictures, then she was traveling the world, with Harry Styles. And occasionally sleeping with him.

Helene has been thinking a lot about rings lately. Not wedding rings, though that was a preoccupation the year she turned 32 and nearly all of her friends where engaged or married. It wasn't the time for her, she had come to, she had this great big gypsy life, and Harry had only saw fit to make it bigger.

Non, she'd been thinking a lot about his rings. They were not boring little circles of jewels, but big masculine, defiant statements of ..... well, she wasn't always sure. Rockstar status? That boys could be like girls? I remember you, us, that night?

She had noticed he was a magpie, liked to collect pretty things, and also a purveyor of traveling pants, or shirts, all sorts of articles of clothing, so long as it was Gucci. Well, the pieces he scattered over the band were Gucci.

"Sarah looks better in that top than you." Helene had offhandedly said one day while they were doing family photos and Harry was, as always, looking over her shoulder.

"You take that back!" He'd given her his drop mouthed squint eyed expression and she'd giggled. Fucking giggled. She was not that girl, but she had been since Bologna. Around him.

The swat to her ass when he walked by her after had her blushing . 

Who even was she?

Anyway, she had been thinking a lot about rings. Mostly Harry's. She wanted to ask for the backstory of each one. And she usually snuck in a couple pictures of his hands on the mic stand to inspect that day's offering. He didn't change them every time, just enough to make her wonder.  They'd never had an in-depth discussion of them, plus it was probably a writer's thing to ask about, not a photographers. When she scanned through the photos sometimes, she really wanted to ask. Really. But she never did.

When they were alone, on rare occasion, they didn't talk too much. Harry ordered, Helene moaned.

At night, she thought about the rings in light of that. What marks they'd make, should he step up his play.
The coolness of them as well. How they felt shockingly different between her legs to his long fingers.

Did he wear them to draw attention to his beautiful hands? He did like to be the center of attention.

No, he wore them because he liked them. 

It was the reason Harry did most things.

Anyway, she had been thinking about Harry's rings that morning before she was due at the arena. She was looking forward to South America, but was afraid every place would pale in comparison after Tokyo. Harry loved Tokyo and had made it his personal mission that they all would too. While she was thinking about new places, she'd slipped the ring on. Didn't think too much of it. She'd been distracted while she was leaving and realized it was still in her palm.

She was toggling through pictures in the back when Harry came to peer over her shoulder later.

"Why the ping pong tables?" They were a new addition to tour. One getting a lot of attention from
Talent and crew. Leon Bridges had just lost to Jeffrey.

"Um, I just remember not being able to go anyplace here. The fans are passionate, makes sightseeeing hard. I didn't want to get bored." He reached up then, she assumed for him to toggle back to a photo, but instead he ran a aristocratic finger over her ring.
"What's this, then?"