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?"

She looked at him side ways and deadpanned, "a ring."

"Yes. A diamond one." He waited for her to elaborate.

He was usually so chill. He looked a bit green at the moment, and helene felt a little less diminutive for it. She flashed her hand out. "So it is." And went back to her pictures.

"Is it a family heirloom?"

"Non, a gift. Ex boyfriend." Helene gave every bit of nonchalance her voice could have over the dancing winner inside of her. He sounded a bit jealous.

"It's kinda...." and he squinted and mehed at her.

She totally agreed, but was loving this banter. "It's the sentiment, I guess." She looked at the red on his pinky, raised her brows.

"Yeah, I suppose." He motioned to the table, "wanna play?"

She didn't know how, but she played tennis growing up. Could it be that different? "I'll have your hat, Styles." He wasn't wearing one, but maybe she could take his clippie.

"Let's make it more interesting. Rings." He smirked at her and that dimple made her knees tremble. She wouldn't think of what else happened. "I win, I take your wee ugly diamond band, you win, you can have the ruby."

Shit, she was gonna lose. "Done!" And she extended her hand with foot thick hubris and her competitive back up.

She realized quickly this was a mistake.

Also, Harry must have been trapped backstage a lot.

He rarely missed a point. She missed them all, it was as bad as when she had tried to let Silver win at air hockey. Silver didn't need the handicap. 7-0.

Once again she was out so fast her head spun. Maybe from trying to follow Harry's ball. He was really good. 

The smug look on his face though, she wanted to smack it off him. "Wipe that face off your head 'arry! I'm rusty."

"No, you're corroded. But fine, best two out of three."

That night she didn't photograph his hands. Because he was wearing Louis' ring on his pinky finger. He'd have spun it like the keys to a new car took had it not been so small.

Helene was on a mission after that. Anytime she could find a partner, one of the sound guys was particularly good, had given Harry a run for his money, she was playing table tennis. She had a game to master

She was steadily getting better, she was gonna get that ring back, maybe take over that ruby one too. Each city, usually during the opening set, she was playing. Whenever she could.

By the time they left Texas, she was feeling ballsy. It was amazing how good you could get at something when you put your mind to it.

Harry was clearly feeling virile too. He'd been talking about a tournament, for the whole crew. Why he wanted a tournament he was sure to win, she didn't know.

Helene couldn't wait that long. Once his competitive side was activated, there would be no stopping him winning. She'd lose again in tournament play. She had to get him before that.

Why he needed to have a tournament was anyone's guess, he was clearly better than anybody else. the Serena Williams of Pong on the tour.

It was in Boston when she came in to the room to him looking smug over a win and spinning his paddle like Roger Federer.

No way, the little bastard wasn't going on stage one more night with it. The tournament was in New York, the lord Styles has declared, but this score was too personal to settle there. Especially because he often spun that particular ring when he and Helene tried to collaborate. As if his hands are not distracting enough.

"Helene, care to get a picture of my triumph?"
The asshole was topless, in boots and very well fitting pants, must be Harris tonight.

"No, but you can get a picture of mine. I want a rematch."

"Oh, babes, I beat you so badly last time, and you already lost your sweet ring," he winked it at her. "I wouldn't want you to lose anything else."

"I think I'm prepared to take you on, Mr. Styles."

Her own smile turned smug. She'd like to take him on again. They were taking each other's measure and Helene was just about to respond to his darkened pupils by betting some flesh, and her ring of course, when Jeff came in and pulled Harry away.

"After the show!" He called and winked on the way out.

Boston was the last show he wore her ring to. He didn't seem put out about it, and he looked just as smug when the tournament began and somebody noticed the body print on Harry's preferred table. Helene hopes her face was not redder than her solo cup. It was hard to wipe off too, the crew was laughing as they tried and the look in Harry's face when he found her eye made her cheeks smart, both sets. She messed with her camera to hide her blush.

She didn't play in the tournament, she'd already won her bet. And a picture of his when he beat her the second match too. All that nipple, rib, and armpit on display. He picked it for the article too.

Everybody won.