Red Volkswagen || h.s.

'tis the damn season

really trying to crank out the rest of part three (which we are SO close to being done with) because I have every single detail of the rest of the story mapped out and ready to go and I am so excited for part four!

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you could call me babe for the weekend

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BROOKLYN'S POV

Couldn't sleep.

Maybe it was the time difference, maybe it was the knowledge of Harry being in the next room, maybe it was something else. Maybe it was everything in general. I wouldn't be surprised. It pretty much sums up this season of my life so far. 

But it's almost eight, I'm wired, and I know I'm not going to rest anymore.

I have no idea what to do because I can't just get up and start my day. I have no idea what this day is going to look like, so I don't know what to do exactly. It could consist of staying here at Harry's house all day, going somewhere, or...well, I don't know what else.

Regardless, I can't keep tossing and turning in this bed.

So, I throw the covers off of my body and swing my legs around the edge of the mattress to hit the chilly hardwood floor. The air is particularly cold, so once I stretch a bit, I move over to my suitcase and flip it open. I fish through everything for a sweatshirt and slip it over my head. I slip some socks on too to soften my footsteps as I grab my phone and walk to the bathroom extremely quietly, keeping in mind that it shares a wall with Harry's room.

I spend as little time in it as possible, waking and refreshing myself up before I put my hair in a quick braid and slip out again like I was never in there. I head downstairs, planning to figure things out as I go. Obviously I'm not going to wake Harry up just because I don't know what to do with myself. I'll let him sleep and twiddle my thumbs for as long as I need.

As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I realize I never actually got a good look at the house. I won't go snooping since Harry said he would give me a proper tour, but even just the living room– I never actually looked at it.

There's a very comfortable looking couch facing a large TV that sits on the wall above a small fireplace below it. There's a glass coffee table in the middle with a few knick knacks on it, and another chair that looks equally as comfy facing the kitchen.

On the other side of the living room are large windows, all facing out to the backyard and porch. Outside, there's another couch against the windows with a table. That part of the porch is covered, and then it jets out and there's a small pool. He has a pool? I guess that's fairly common in LA.

There's the pool, grass extending further from that, and then the property fence line drops off on a steep hill that I'm assuming leads down to a road below.

The kitchen hasn't changed since last night, obviously. The bay window and table are still on the furthest wall facing the front of the house. The massive island is covered in random things and contains the sink with cabinets underneath, while the wall behind it has all the appliances and more cabinets.

Would I be overstepping a boundary if I made breakfast? Like, for Harry too? I need to busy myself somehow.

What even are our boundaries?