Nowhere In Particular // H.S.

Thirty-Two: Fears

My ear is squished between the side of my head and Harry's legs. The denim of his pants feels warm with my hair sprawled out on his lap, my eyes forward as I watch his legs shake with the movement of the bus. I feel his hand, large and spread out on the part of my leg that isn't quite my hip or my back side but somewhere in between.

We're in a similar position to that first night I woke up in Harry's lap. Only now we aren't asleep, we're on the opposite side of the country and I'm not fighting with myself to get my head off his leg like I did that night.

Harry's been reading for the last hour and I've been staring, trying to sleep without much luck. The bus is quiet because there are only a handful of people on it and the sun from outside shines through the window, making everything almost too warm. Even then I still snuggle up to Harry, surely making him on the verge of overheating with my hair and head in his lap. But he doesn't complain, only moving his hand on my hip every once in a while to rub gently or turn the page in his book.

After a day of recovery from my birthday and all of the mischievous things we got into, we're back on the road, closing the gap between us and the end of this trip even more. If everything goes as planned we will be there in two or three days. That prediction can only be so true since Harry and I have a tendency of getting caught up in the places we stop at. But I think in a lot of ways were both ready to get there.

I'm not ready in the sense that I'm not sure what comes after it... but I am ready to have this small sense of accomplishment in making it there.

There's no way that I could have predicted everything that has happened in these few short months since I left home. I left feeling unloved and desperate for change and adventure. I've gotten that plus more than I would have ever expected.

I feel loved, a lot more than I ever have. Strangely enough this distance I've put between myself and my family and Laurel in some ways has brought us closer. I don't talk to them every day but when I do I feel this support that I never felt before. I know they're still worried about me. I don't know what person wouldn't be considering the situation I've put myself in, but I truly believe that it's mended some of the things that would have only continued to happen if I would have stayed home.

Plus there's Harry. Harry who lets me lay in his lap. Harry who always knows what to say to get a laugh out of me, who takes me on these crazy adventures, and has helped me figure out a lot about myself by just being who he is. Harry who loves me in every way I could ever need.

"Greta," I hear my name, Harry whispering it carefully above me.

"Hmm?" I hum out as I turn on my back so instead of looking forward to the seat in front of me I'm looking up at him.

"Am I the only one who is getting extremely tired of bus rides?" he asks, laughing a little as he puts the book in his hands to the side.

"No," I shake my head, the back of my neck still resting in his lap. "You definitely aren't."

After the amount of time we've been on a bus I think it's only natural for us to feel this way. They rarely look much different, always sporting a funny designed fabric on the seats. The only thing that changes is the people who take up those seats and the scenery when you look out the window. It can trick you though. There's a lot of the U.S. that looks very similar. So even when you're speeding down a highway if nothing much is changing on the outside it doesn't feel like you're covering much distance.

"Not much longer now," he smiles. "Soon enough your toes will be in the sand and water of the Atlantic Ocean. You know, I think maybe we should go skinny dipping as some sort celebratory thing," he raises his eyebrows, teasing but sounding serious at the same time.