Random Harry Styles Short Stories || Completed!

Sweet Talk

To the girl who buys the cream puffs, started all of Harry's morning thoughts.

He did not know your name, but for months he recognized your face. Your glossed smile in the passing glass window, the small strands of hair that glued themselves to the back of your neck on a particular hot summer day.

For months, his ears would perk up at the sound of your voice. A happy too-good-to-be-his "Good morning!" or "Good afternoon!", always followed by a "How is your day?".

And who wouldn't want to seize that opportunity to have your full and undivided attention? To sit you down over a cup of coffee (the way he saw you order, the way he knew you liked it) and spend all day answering that simple question.

Harry had never been on the receiving end of it, he was always somehow busy in the kitchen or cleaning the bathroom or anywhere but where he wanted to be. He would be forced to listen to his coworkers' one-worded replies, wasteful and insincere and sometimes plain rude.

Those bugged him to no end. It would always make him confused more than anything. How on Earth could somebody be rude to a face like yours?

But he couldn't even be annoyed for long, would have to shove the bitterness aside to a cave in his chest, because your laugh melted him.

You giggled and smiled regardless of what their replies were. Harry knew it had to be fake, at least sometimes, but he didn't care. You were so convincing and he was a puddle of honey on the floor.

And your order. Could there be more of a perfect order for you? I'll have two cream puffs please.

Cream puffs. Those damned cream puffs. Harry hadn't been a fan of them, hadn't even so much as bothered to restock them, until you had claimed them as yours.

It was always cream puffs, nothing else. You walked into the small bakery, bell noting your entrance, and you made a bee-line for the puffs.

Not stopping for any of the tarts, nor anything new displayed in the windows.

And it was always two. I'll have two cream puffs please. Two.

Harry couldn't help it. He would wonder endlessly after you left the store with the white paper bag. Who were you sharing it with? Which lucky man had won the lottery ticket for your time?

It became such an integral root to his daily routine that it bypassed all practicality. Hell, you most likely bought the both of them for yourself. They sold them in such small bundles that to have one was to easily have ten.

But Harry was a puddle of honey on the floor and needed you all to himself. Needed to know your name. For you to know his. To snatch the pastry away and tasted it on your lips.

He knew if he did, he would be swimming in sugar for the rest of his life.

The bell jingled. A customer.

Harry was in the back room, having just clocked in and in the midst of tying on his apron.

Silence.

And then, "Hello?" Foreign word, familiar tongue. "I'm sorry for being so early. Is anyone there?"

Harry almost trips over himself. It was you, without a doubt. He could've picked out your voice from an orchestra of noises.

You, early. You, apologising. You, alone with him.

"Hello?"

And here he was keeping you waiting.

Harry took a deep breath in before revealing his presence to you, a shaky hand torn through his curls, eyes carefully turned downwards as he approached the cashier.

He didn't notice that your heartbeat was beginning to rise as well, and that the flush in your cheeks wasn't all from the walk over.

He didn't notice that you recognized him too.

"Good morning!" Your voice came out more rushed than usual, but Harry was too dizzy to care.

He had never been this close to you before. The smell of your perfume was making his head spin in ways no drug could.

And this was what he had been preparing for. This was what he had been hurting for months for.

He had his answer all prepared already. I'm really good, a bit tired, could use a cup of coffee, hey want to grab one with me after my shift?

But instead of asking him about his day, the words that spilled out from your lips, those pretty pink lips that Harry is trying so incessantly hard not to stare at, was ones he could've never imagined.

"I know you."

And because he had not expected that (Harry would've bet on a meteor crashing before a kiss from you), Harry finds himself blurting out, "I know you too. You come in everyday and get the cream puffs."

"Yeah," you draw out with a small smile, making Harry's heart beat faster with every passing second. "How did you know?"

A double-bladed question. Because there aren't pretty girls like you swinging by everyday. Because there aren't pretty girls like you ever.

All he says, though, is: "We don't get a lot of customers."

You nod, and Harry thinks you look a little disappointed. He quickly dismisses the latter thought, because why would you? Thinking that way filled him with fragile hope. The kind he was so used to getting from you.

"Would you like your regular?" He sounded so casual, so dismissive, that he wanted to puke. Why was he acting like this when all he wanted to do was reach over the counter and hold your hand.

"That would be great. Thank you."

You weren't laughing. Why weren't you laughing? Yesterday a one-word curt reply sent you giggling, and now...

Harry's heart was sinking fast. This was his shot and he was blowing it. He could feel it slipping away from him in the bitter taste in his mouth.

Quickly, quickly. Harry had already wrapped the two cream puffs in the white paperbag. Time running out. You were handing over a thin wad of cash.

His thoughts flew in a million directions at once. Don't leave. Who is the other puff for? Please don't go. Say something. Where are you going?

You turn away from him. Steady hand on doorknob. You twist—

"Hey, hold on a second!"

If the two of you weren't the only ones in the store, Harry could've sworn that somebody else had beat him to it. That it was somebody else you were turning back around for. Somebody else you were looking expectantly at.

But, no.

You were staring at him with a curious expression, mixed with a little bit of intellect.

Harry's mouth tastes like pure sugar as he asks, "Would you like to go out with me sometime?"

You laugh and squint your eyes at him, as if you thought he would've never asked.