the brave ones // h.s.

the drive - iii

Eden wakes up the next morning with a severe headache and a buzzing in her lips. The former thanks to her desire to forget her unexplained mood swing and experience the most of that wedding reception; the latter thanks to the marvelous stranger snoring in the bed next to hers.

Wait, could Harry be classified as a stranger anymore?

Surely not. They'd been together for around a week now, shared countless vulnerable conversations, and then that magnetic kiss from last night.

An uncontrollable grin appears on Eden's lips, the elation momentarily overpowering the jackhammer playing hopscotch on her brain. The moment replays in her mind's eye like a scene from her favorite movie; a song she wanted to learn over and over again; a book she would never stop reading.

Harry had kissed her.

Or rather, she had kissed him and he had kissed her back.

I'm not willing to admit how many times I've thought about that happening as I fell asleep, she thinks to herself.

Shuffling noises to her right pull her from her thoughts. Her head rolls to see Harry turning over in his bed, pulling the covers tight around his lanky body as he moves to lay on his side. His face is turned to her, allowing her the chance to admire his peaceful face in the soft gold light filtering in through the sheer white curtains on her left. During the day, she found his expression often hardened; not necessarily due to a negative attitude, but more because of muscle memory. It gave him the appearance of always being heavy in thought. Brows pulled low over his prominent eyes, and said eyes narrowed while his fingers gently tugged at his bottom lip. She loved watching him do that; he'd done it a few times during their time on the road, when she managed to ask him a thought-provoking question.

But in sleep, it seems the tense state of his muscles is briefly forgotten. Granted, the crease on his forehead is still subtly there, but his face is more relaxed and one of his dimples is barely visible as he subconsciously smiles in his dreaming state. His lips are parted as he breathes deeply, air whooshing in through his mouth before rattling out his nose in a faint snore. He must be deep in sleep.

Eden wonders what he dreams about. Does he know she's dreamt about him?

The headache returns, mucking up any semblance of hope she had about staying in bed and observing Harry's peaceful sleep. She carefully rolls out of bed and tiptoes to the bathroom, where she's got a bottle of aspirin stashed in her makeup bag. She rinses her face off with cool water and ties her knotted hair back into a messy bun. Harry is still far from the waking world in the next room, so she slips on her shoes and wanders downstairs for a late breakfast.

She takes her time eating, curled up at a corner table by a window and staring out at the lovely blue morning. A few wispy clouds dot the sky overhead; in the distance lies a dark ring of clouds crowding the horizon, in the direction they'll be driving in. Eden smiles to herself, as she enjoys the sensation of driving through the rain.

Harry's words cross her mind. "From the moment I met you, all I've seen is bravery."

Could that be true? Harry doesn't come across as the kind of man to lie; he'd only known Eden for a short time, but she'd done her best to push herself while completing her list. Admittedly, Brave Eden would be the only Eden he knows.

But is this who she actually is?

Am I actually brave?

She hadn't noticed the apparent changes in herself until Harry had spoken those words to her. But he had no way of knowing they were changes he was pointing out. To him it was a statement of truth: she was brave, not evolving into a brave one.