Harry Styles — Merch Girl Part 3
I Just Wanna Taste It
Part 1 | Part 2 | Masterlist
Here’s the final part of my little Merch Girl trilogy! Wasn’t expecting this to be more than a oneshot but I fell in love with this dynamic haha. Hope you like it!
After the second Nashville show, the road crew packed everything up and everyone piled onto the tour buses to head to New York. You curled up in one of the bunks with your AirPods in, listening to a podcast to lull you to sleep.
You were awoken when the bus screeched to an abrupt stop and were almost thrown out of your bunk. Instinctively, you reached out a hand and grabbed onto the bunk above yours, holding you in place. You took out your AirPods and slid out, joining the rest of the crew in the aisle.
“What’s going on?” You asked Olivia, who was standing in front of you. She shrugged.
“Dunno, I was sleeping,” she said. Everyone started filing off the bus, and you found Jeff outside with his phone pressed to his ear. The other buses had pulled over, but nobody got off of them. Once Jeff hung up the phone, he turned to address everyone.
“Something’s wrong with the bus,” he explained. “We’re going to take a look but it might be a bit before we figure it out, so feel free to hop onto one of the others to hang out, or there’s a diner over there if you’re hungry.”
Just as you turned towards Olivia to ask her if she wanted to get food with you, Harry emerged from the bus in front of yours.
“Hey Merch Girl!” He yelled as soon as he saw you. “Buy me a milkshake?” He jerked his head towards the diner and you rolled your eyes but nod, walking over towards him.
“You should be buying me a milkshake,” you grumbled. “You’re the Grammy-winning artist. I’m just a merch girl.”
“Fine, I’ll buy the milkshakes. But we’re getting fries, too.”
You let him lead you into the diner, which was pretty empty for so late at night. There were a few truckers at the counter, and a few of the other crew members had trickled into some of the booths.
“Be right with ya!” The waitress called as you walked in. She had a pot of coffee in one hand and a plate of eggs in the other and her curly brown ponytail bounced as she jetted around the room, refilling everyone’s coffee mugs.
Harry led you to a corner booth, away from everyone else, and grabbed one of the menus that was sitting on the table. You already knew what you wanted, so you pulled out your phone while you waited for him to decide.
“How do you know what you want already?” He asked. You look up from your phone to see him peering at you over the menu. “There’s so many options!”
“Strawberry milkshake, and I’ll steal some of your fries,” you answered, looking back down at your phone.
“Who said I’m getting fries?”
“You did, like, two minutes ago.”
“Well maybe I changed my mind.”
“You didn’t.” Harry mumbled something under his breath and you smirked, knowing you were right.
“What can I get ya, darling?” The waitress asked as she approached your table. Her name tag read Amelia, and the name fit her perfectly.
“Can I get a strawberry milkshake, please?” You asked, tucking your phone back into the pocket of your sweatpants.
“Absolutely!” Amelia scribbled something down on her notepad, then turned to Harry with a bright smile. “And what about you, sugar?”
“A chocolate milkshake and an order of fries, please,” he said, his accent making him sound even more polite than his words did.
“Coming right up!” You bit your lip to hold in your laughter, looking at Harry out of the corner of your eye. He gave his head a small shake, trying to discourage you from gloating, but as soon as the waitress was out of earshot, you barked out a laugh.
“You’re so predictable,” you said through your chuckles. He glared at you in mock-annoyance.
“I like fries, okay?” He defended, crossing his arms across his chest. You rolled your eyes at him, knowing that he wasn’t really mad, and ignored the pout on his face.
“How long do you think it’ll take to get the bus fixed?”
“Do I look like I know anything about buses?”
“No, but I’m not trying to judge a book by it’s cover.” He snorted, knowing that you were lying. Judging people was one of your favorite hobbies.
The waitress came back with your milkshakes and fries, interrupting the conversation.
“Can I get you anything else?” She asked as she slid the tall glasses towards each of you. You both shook your heads and thanked her. “Well just holler if you need anything!”
You immediately took a sip of the milkshake, letting the cool sweetness sit on your tongue for a second before swallowing.
“I can’t believe you got strawberry,” Harry said, spitting out the last word as if it was poisonous.The way his nose wrinkled slightly was kind of cute, but he’d never let you live it down if you told him that.
“Take it back! I will not tolerate strawberry ice cream slander!” You gasped, clutching your milkshake to your chest.
“It’s objectively the worst ice cream flavor.”
“Says the man who’s most popular song starts with ‘tastes like strawberries.’” He threw a fry at you and it hit you in the face then dropped down into your milkshake.
“You know that song’s not actually about fruit, right?”
“Everyone knows that.” You put on a fake British accent and then said “It’s about the female orgasm.” You emphasized the last word, mocking his onstage confession, causing a blush to creep up out of the neck of his sweatshirt and onto his cheeks.
“Dunno why I said that…” Sensing how uncomfortable he was, you grabbed one of his fries and launched it back at him. It got stuck in the hood of the sweatshirt and you burst into a fit of giggles. His mood immediately brightened, and a smile broke out on his lips.
“Stop wasting all my fries!” He said, pretending to be mad, and pulled the fry out, chucking it back at you.
“You started it!” You whined, pointing to the fry in your milkshake. He reached across the table and plucked it out, popping it into his mouth.
“There’s no evidence of that.” You shook your head and sighed, resigned to the fact that he would never take the blame.
You and Harry sat in the diner, talking and laughing long after the fries went cold and the last dregs of your milkshakes melted into a sweet soup. Every so often, you caught Britney’s eyes squinting over at your table. You did your best to ignore it, but you couldn’t help but feel judged for your friendship with Harry. Her opinion definitely didn’t matter, but you thought that maybe she represented a larger portion of the crew that thought you got special treatment because of it. Shaking off that thought, you turned your attention back to Harry, who was talking about some dive bar he wanted to take you to in New York.
“Okay, but no more karaoke,” you told him, voice stern.
“We have to, Y/N, it’s our thing now,” he pleaded.
“We did it once. That doesn’t make it a thing.”
“It’s a thing if we want it to be.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but Jeff walked in and made his way over to your table.
“Looks like we need to take it in to get fixed,” he said, “so we’re just gonna have to squeeze in for tonight.” He gave you an apologetic look, but you smiled back, trying to reassure him that it was okay.
“That’s fine!” You said, more cheerful than was probably necessary. “Plenty of room on his bus.” You jutted your chin out to point over at Harry. Jeff nodded with a small chuckle.
“We’re leaving in twenty, see you out there.” He moved on to tell everyone else, and Harry turned back to you with a shit-eating grin.
“I win, it’s our thing, we’re doing karaoke,” he said as he pulled his wallet out.
“You didn’t win, Jeff interrupted our argument!” You retorted with a scoff. Harry pulled out a $100 bill and dropped it on your table and then slid out of his side of the booth, motioning for you to follow.
“I’m gonna go pee quick, but I’ll see you out there,” you said, waving him on. “I hate peeing on the bus.” Harry laughed at you but jogged out of the diner and back to the bus, anyways.
Once you finished up in the bathroom, you thanked the waitress one last time and then grabbed your bags from your bus, handing them to the driver of Harry’s bus so he could stow them for you. You bounded up the steps inside, and made your way down the aisle until you found Harry, lounging in the bottom bunk all the way in the back. You dropped your bag on the floor next to the bunk and poked Harry in the side, making him squirm.
“Budge over,” you said, and Harry obliged, shuffling closer to the wall. You sat down and swung your feet up until you were laying next to him with your shoulders pressing together. The bunk was tiny, only really meant for one person, but you needed to sleep somewhere and Harry had obnoxiously interrupted whatever you were doing too many times to count, so you figured it was time to take your revenge. He looked over at you, one airpod in and the other in his hand. His phone was turned sideways, and you saw something paused on the screen.
“What’re you watching?” you asked, pulling the screen towards you.
“Peaky Blinders,” he muttered, with a sheepish grin. You laughed and nudged his shoulder playfully.
“Oh my god. You are a walking stereotype.” He pulled his phone back and frowned at you.
“Was gonna ask if you wanted to watch with me, but now you’re not invited.” He flipped over so his back was to you, hiding the phone screen. You started to poke his back repeatedly, saying his name over and over.
“Harry…..Harry…..Harry….” After about ten pokes, he turned to look at you over the shoulder.
“What?” He sighed.
“Let me watch?”
“Fine.” With a huff, he shifted so he was on his back again and handed you his right AirPod. “But no asking questions, okay?” You nodded and stuck the AirPod in, scooting closer to him so you could see the screen better.
It was super late, so you only got through half of an episode before you fell asleep. The morning sun creeping in through the bus window woke you, and you blinked against the brightness a few times, easing back into consciousness.
You felt something heavy against your waist and pressure against your back, and twisted slightly to see Harry’s arm draped over you. He had taken off his sweatshirt at some point during the night, because his arms were bare, muscles bulging and tattoos on full display. Sure enough, it was bunched up at the foot of the bunk, shoved between Harry’s leg and the wall. You felt heat rise into your face, and tried to slide out of his grasp without waking him up, but he tightened his grip, holding you in place. Shit, you mouthed, wincing. This was not good. His proximity was doing things to you; you felt your heart clench in your chest and blood rush south, pooling a familiar heat in your belly. You tried to stay still and even out your breathing so if he woke up, he’d think you were still asleep. He started stirring behind you and you held your breath, waiting for him to realize and roll off of you. However, he leaned forward and buried his head in your neck, and you could feel his lips curl into a smile against the skin there.
“You’re like a space heater,” he mumbled into your hair, voice still hoarse with sleep. Somehow, you managed to blush even deeper, though you were sure all of your blood had been redirected for other purposes. The small bunk space was warm and heady, and it was intoxicating. You needed to get out before you lost control.
“Harry Styles, are you calling me hot?” You joked, trying to diffuse the tension a little bit.
“S’what if I am?” You bit the inside of your lip, contemplating. He was definitely giving you signals, but you weren’t sure enough and wondered if it was worth the risk. The decision was made for you when Harry pulled on your shoulder, trying to get you to flip over. You adjusted your position so you were facing him.
“I think you stole all my warmth,” you whispered, placing one of your freezing hands on his cheek. He squirmed at the sensation and grabbed your wrist, guiding it down to the strip of exposed skin on his stomach below where his t-shirt had ridden up. A shiver ran through your body as you felt the muscles there tighten.
“Better?” He murmured, leaning in so his lips were just a few centimeters from yours. You could feel his heartbeat through his skin and it skipped a beat. Your body reacted instinctively, angling your head to press your lips to his.
Kissing Harry was like letting out a deep breath you didn’t know you had been holding. A wave of calm washed over your body from head to toe and you swallowed his smile with your own. His lips were soft clouds and you let yourself get lost in them.
“Better,” you breathed, breaking away for a moment to catch your breath. Opening your eyes, you were met with a close-up of Harry’s green eyes shining brighter than you’d ever seen them before. He pulled you even closer until your body was flush with his and captured your lips again, more firmly than the first time. You could feel every small twitch and shiver in his body. Feeling bold, you parted your lips slightly, and he wasted no time, pulling your bottom lip in between his teeth and nibbling lightly. A moan escaped your lip and it spurred him on. He pressed his hips into yours, and you felt him, half hard against your thigh.
Heat was pooling in your belly faster than you wanted it to, and as much as you wanted to completely lose yourself in Harry, you were on an over-crowded bus full of your coworkers, so you pulled away. You rested your forehead on Harry’s and he nudged your nose with his, coaxing a giggle out of your lips.
“Thought I was just a merch girl to you,” you said with a hint of a teasing tone in your voice.
“You’ve never been just a merch girl to me,” Harry said as he buried his face in your neck, pressing delicate kisses to the sensitive skin there.
A soft sigh escaped your and you let your eyes flutter shut, silently thanking your tour bus for breaking down in the middle of nowhere.