S-s-stutter [Zarry]

fuzzy

+Zayn

Ding.

"Your favorite customer!"

He pops up from behind the counter, sweat trickling down his face, messy curls held back by a pink headband.

"I was moving boxes. That's why," he wipes his clammy hands on his shirt, pants a bit "I'm so darn sweaty."

"Heavy?"

"Quite," he leans against the counter to catch his breath.

"I can help you babe."

"Fuck," I follow him to the storage room, veins popping, biceps flexing. "I'm too weak for this. Why did I offer to help?"

"Because you love me."

"I guess," I tease. "Pick out anything special for me babe?"

"You like Gregory Isaacs?"

"Love."

My heart flutters in my chest. How did he know?

"Frank Ocean?"

"Adore," I grin.

"Bon Iver?"

I tilt my head, knit my brows together.

"I dunno, don't listen to him much. What else?"

"Khalid, Grizzly Bear, The Weeknd, Childish Gambino, Milky Chance...just a variety of things."

The sun is setting. Pastel pink and vivid orange. Bursts of color.

"What time do you get off?"

"9:00," he sets down the last box and smiles at me. "That's pretty early actually, I usually close out around 10:30. Is that okay? We can just go out on Saturday or-"

"Do you always work so late?"

He brushes back a stray piece of hair, does something at the register, humming.

"Yeah. Why?"

"You're by yourself," I frown.

"Josh comes in a lot. He's technically the manager. Makes me do the hard work," he chuckles.

"Josh?"

"Yeah," his cheeks flush. "He's uh...a co-worker."

"Obviously," I laugh. "He's your manager. Is he nice?"

"Of course," he says enthusiastically. Almost too cheery. "He gave me a raise last week. He's very neat, very organized...particular. Maybe he'll swing by. I don't know."

"So he owns the place?"

Harry nods, busying himself with something on his laptop.

"What are you doing? You're supposed to be working."

"Inventory spreadsheet."

"Why can't Josh do it? He's the one in charge around here," I sneer.

"Because he's paying me to do it."

"Okay," I say agitated. My fingers tap against the counter. "Does he like you?"

"W-what?" He looks up at me with wide eyes, blinks incredibly slow.

"Is he into guys?"

"Maybe," he shrugs nonchalantly.

"How are you not uncomfortable about being here so late with no one else around? He could bloody-"

"Rape me? Is that what you were thinking?"

Yes.

"No, it's just that," I run my fingers through my hair, sigh heavily "I'm a bit over-protective I guess. Sorry."