i.
Harry hadn't really been expecting to pick berries throughout his summer vacation, but he figures this is good as any for a summer job while he's out from UNI, opposed to his slow run coffee shop most busy during winter. He wouldn't even know about this job if not for his mum, who's got an old friend out where he stays with acres and acres of land though short on pickers since one has gone off to Spain, and though it took him some coaxing, with a few motherly scolds thrown in there, he eventually sought out to see the benefits of it. Though long days beneath a hot sun isn't ideal, maybe he'll even be able to get discounts on fruit, which would be most pleasurable considering prices these days.
The road he turned on to get here was gravely and terrible for his tires, he knows, and decides to check them out now so he doesn't spend the whole day through worrying over them. Harry hears another car stirring up rock behind him but doesn't bother to look up until they've called him out by name. Peering over to see a guy with black hair and tan skin who was unexplainably beautiful, which means Harry won't be the prettiest one here and he was counting on that just a bit. It would surely help to flirt some of the time away, but he's sure everyone will gravitate toward this one now.
"Barb' told us about you, swear to it I'm not a stalker," he holds out his hand, "I'm Zayn."
Harry shakes his hand and smiles, "Do you do this every summer?" he questions, "I'd only assume because you're on nickname basis with the owner."
Zayn nods, "That past two summers I have."
"Is it hard?" he asks, hissing just a bit when a piece of rock pierces at the sole of his shoe (He's always hated gravel, never has he seen a decent use for it besides being a pain in the arse).
"Nah, not really, s'long as you have someone to talk to," Zayn answers, pulling open the door to the what was built like a house, but the inside was more like a shop, "Plus, you can help yourself to as many berries as ya want, which is always nice. Just be careful around the blueberries, 'cos if Barb sees your tongues too purple, she'll have your head."
"Already trying to scare Anne's boy, are ya Zayn?" A woman's voice rang behind them, making them both jump and she laughs.
She's got a thin face, her hair brown and her eyes the same tint, reaching her hand out to Harry, "M' Barbra. Your mother and I go way back, y'know, I would've been there when you were born had there not been a delay at the airport." Harry smiles, and he thinks his mother must have told him that before because it sounds vaguely familiar, "Now, let's get with it. All the Pickers work in groups of three or more, but you'll only have three, and are stationed at a different berry each day 'round. Your group picks on Tuesday's and Thursdays, sometimes Monday's it depends on if anyone calls in or not. Generally, you lot get here earlier than the rest of the crew who will be working the counters and some will be sorting berries in the farm 'round back."
She turns away, picks up a basket for each boy and hands them out to them, "When you fill a basket, take it to the farm, grab another basket labelled your berry of the day, and get back to it! The days usually run by quick, and you're only working from 7 to half past 11."
Harry waits till she's finished before saying, "If there's supposed to be 3 of us, then who is our third?"
Barbra is about to speak, before the door his pulled open behind them and she smiles wide, "This girl right here. Her names Y/N." Harry turns to see a girl, who's got a sweet face – he decides, and eyes so nice he wants to stare into them for a long while. Her lips are pretty too, though they remain shut, he also decides he can't wait to see how they part around her words.
