“It’s such a comfort food for me,” Signe began, reaching for a cream filled bun. She lifted the bun’s lid and dipped it into the mountain of paste underneath and took a bite. She paused mid-bite as the flavors hit her tongue, her eyebrows raising. She hadn’t expected it to taste so spot-on. With a grin, Signe dipped her finger into the almond paste and gave it a quick taste. “Okay, this,” she pointed at the half-eaten bun. “This is dangerous.” He flushed at her compliment, and Signe smiled to herself. “Well, the effort is appreciated, trouble or no,” she countered. She shifted to sit sideways, her legs curled underneath her. “I also noticed time moved particularly slow this afternoon.” Signe met his gaze, a knowing twinkle in her eyes. Charlie leaned back, one arm propped under his head, and a self-assured glint in his eyes that screamed he just knew how it made him look. Her pulse skipped a beat as he turned his full attention on her. It was more than just the effortless flirtation that seemed to flow out of him, but the warmth behind his gaze – like he genuinely wanted to know more. Her gaze dropped, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket as she tried to keep her expression from betraying how flustered she was. “You did kind of monologue last time,” she teased, glancing at Charlie from underneath her eyelashes. Her eyebrows rose, her eyes blinking rapidly at his words. “Date number three, huh?” Her tone was light, and full of teasing. “Bold of you to assume you’re making it past the first one.” Signe nudged him lightly with her knee, her expression a dead giveaway that she liked the confidence. Normally, she wasn’t the kind of girl who divulged much of anything beyond the curated image she wanted to put out, but the way Charlie looked at her made her want to open up. “I’m an only child,” she began. “My mom’s Chinese-Swedish, and my dad’s Danish-Swedish. They are sickeningly perfect together and so in love. They had me super young, but they’ve given me absolutely everything.” Signe paused as she thought about how much her parents had sacrificed for her, especially in those early years of their marriage. “They’re also both brilliant – Mamma is an art history professor, and Pappa is an orthopedic surgeon. I actually credit my mom for getting me into fashion, whether or not she realized what was happening in the moment. I used to go with her to museums all the time and there was this one exhibit on medieval fashion in Europe and–” She smiled, shaking her head as she refocused her attention on Charlie. “I was a goner from then. It was my dirty little secret for so long – until college applications were around the corner and I just blurted out that I wanted to do fashion design.” Signe chuckled at the memory, and shrugged her shoulders at him as if to say ‘the rest is history.’
The way Signe’s face lit up at the mention of semla had Charlie’s heart damn near stumbling over itself. All the time he’d spent stressing over the food and double-checking the setup felt instantly worth it. “I had no idea it was your favorite,” he admitted, eyes crinkling with his smile, “but I’m chuffed I landed on the right one.” Her laugh, the soft and delighted kind, made his pulse quicken, and his grin grew a little sheepish. “I know, I keep sayin’ it… but I mean it. Wouldn’t sit right with me to keep it to myself.”
When she complimented the setup, he waved his hand, bashful, his own cheeks flushing pink beneath the praise. “Oh, it weren’t any trouble, promise... Honestly, it helped. Gave me somethin’ to focus on while I was waitin’.” His gaze dropped for a second, then lifted back to hers, a hint of vulnerability tucked into his smile. “Felt like time weren't movin' fast enough.”
Charlie shifted, leaning back on his elbow, stretching out onto his side as he propped his head against his hand, more relaxed now that the ice was broken. He watched her with open admiration, the glow of the setting sun casting soft gold across her features. “You know,” he continued, voice dipping into something playful but sincere, “last time we were out, I did most of the talkin’.. Told you my story, spilled me guts…” His eyes softened as they held hers. “But I don’t really know much about you yet. Feels like I’m overdue.”
Charlie’s smile turned curious, a little more inviting. “So… tell me. Fashion, family, the whole beginner’s guide to Signe. I wanna know what makes you you. What lights you up the way cookin’ does for me.” His fingers absentmindedly toyed with the corner of the blanket, though his focus stayed locked on her. There was no rush behind the words, just an easy kind of patience, the look of someone who truly wanted to listen. “Unless…” He tilted his head slightly, teasing, “you’re secretly a woman of mystery and I’m not meant to know these things until date number three?” The smirk that tugged at his mouth was soft, good-natured, but the way his eyes stayed steady on her, the way he leaned in just a touch closer, was anything but casual.
Ophelia's lips lifted into an understanding smile. There was a familiar look in the girl's eyes -- one that she would recognize from a million miles away. That quiet kind of ache that came from longing for something you used to love. She remembered when she'd first arrived in Palmview and how she's been unable to even look at her guitar for months. "Don't worry about it," she said gently, waving off the apology. "Yeah, I sing. Write too. Mostly sad girl stuff," she added with a laugh. "And trust me, I get it. Moving can throw everything off. I was the same when I first moved here." Lia paused for a beat, tilting her head as she studied the girl. "But you're still writing. That's good! Sometimes just showing up to the page is enough." She bit her lip, hesitating before deciding to add, “What kind of music do you write?”
blair hadn't really done much singing in sometime now. she'd kind of forgotten about it. moving here in the first place had been keeping her busy enough as well as her job, trying to get used to things around here and managing some other tasks. it had seemed like she almost barely had the time in her schedule to do any of this. the blonde glanced down at the guitar ... a simple reminder of her past and what it probably would've been like if she got back into it and started it up again. " sorry... didn't mean to stare. " not realizing that she had been daydreaming for a second before looking up at the other. " you're a singer? " she automatically assumed from seeing the guitar. " i was one for a little while.. or should i say starting to be one. kind of stopped for a bit when i moved here not long ago. i have been writing a bit but nothing that i feel good about putting out yet. " she just realized that she had been rambling to someone she hadn't even met until now. " and i'm rambling ─ sorry it's become a bit of a habit of mine. "
Signe blinked, an incredulous laugh escaping her lips before she could help it. “Whoa, how did you guess?” she grinned. “October 6th birthday.” She tilted her head slightly, amused and a little intrigued. “Should I be worried that you’re about to read my soul or something? I wasn’t planning on having an existential crisis today, but I could be convinced.”
serena lets out a light laugh , amused by the other . “ don't joke around like that because i might take you up on it . ” serena loved doing readings . truly . however , having some more serious clientele — private ones at that , would make a huge financial difference in her life . “ what's your sign ? you're giving me libra vibes . ”
Signe had been pretending not to watch the time all afternoon. She’d changed her outfit twice and redone her eyeliner once, and yet somehow still didn’t feel like she was ready. She wanted the date to go well so much more than she’d expected to. Still, when she opened the door and saw him standing there, with a smile and a bouquet, Signe felt her stomach flip, nerves rewriting themselves into something quieter and warmer. Butterflies. His compliment had her smiling down at the ground for a moment before she met his gaze. “Thank you,” she said, voice soft and sincere, smoothing out the skirt of her pink, sleeveless dress. “You…you clean up nice too.” Signe reached for the bouquet, her fingers brushing over the petals. “You didn’t have to do all this.” Of course, she was glad he had. She took a moment to put the flowers in water and they were off. The walk felt easy, the nerves were clearly still there, but there was also an almost giddy anticipation over what the night had to offer them. When they reached the beach and she saw the setup, her breath caught, touched by the effort he’d put into this. Signe accepted his offered hand and let herself be guided down beside him. Her eyes widen, perking up at the name. “You made semla?” she asked, surprised and already impressed. “I love semla, it’s my favorite!” She giggled as he explained running out of space in his oven to prepare even more for their date. He complimented her again and Signe laughed to herself softly. “You keep saying that,” she murmured, her cheeks warm but still pleased. “I can’t believe you went to all this effort. It’s amazing…which, I guess makes sense…considering so are you.” She offered him a shy grin and a tilt of her head.
Starter: closed ~ @ofresoluxe~ Location: Sunset Villas Beach
Charlie had spent most of the day before prepping food. More than he needed, more than made sense, but he couldn’t help himself. The excitement had gotten the better of him, and he didn’t mind it at all. He gave everything in the basket one final check, then turned to the mirror. Just a once-over. Just to make sure he looked like someone worth saying yes to. He took a steadying breath, picked up the basket, and stepped out the door. He’d given himself plenty of time to set up by the water before heading to her place. The blanket was already laid out, food packed neatly, all that was missing was her.
Now, standing at her door with a small bouquet in hand, he felt the nerves return, low and electric. Like he was seventeen again, tux too stiff, hoping prom night would go right. But the second she opened the door, all of that melted away. “Wow…” The word slipped out before he could stop it. His grin widened, soft and genuine. “You look stunnin’, Signe.” He offered her the flowers, eyes still taking her in. “You ready to get this date started?”
The walk to the beach was light, full of quiet conversation and unspoken anticipation. Charlie found himself flexing his fingers a few times to calm his hands, the nerves still buzzing under his skin. But as they stepped onto the sand and he led her toward the setup, he relaxed. The blanket was spread out beneath a warm glow, the basket waiting just off to the side. Charlie crouched down, reaching for her hand as he did. “Figured I’d show you what I picked up in Copenhagen, since you said you wanted to know.” He gently tugged her down to sit beside him, already lifting the lid of the basket. “I made semla. Was gonna bake cinnamon rolls too, but…” he let out a short laugh, “I ran outta oven space... Might’ve gone a bit overboard.” As he unpacked the rest—careful, proud—he stole a glance at her, then let his gaze linger. “You really are beautiful,” he said softly, almost like it was just for her to hear, a truth too simple not to say out loud.
⇢ 🌸 STATUS ﹕ closed. ⇢ 🌸 TAGGING ﹕signe + @amadoures !! ( mila ) ⇢ 🌸 DETAILS. ﹕ signe is out shopping at retro roots when she takes note of an exquisitely dressed stranger and can't help herself.
Signe wasn't in the habit of approaching strangers -- especially not ones that looked like they belonged on a magazine cover. She'd been cataloguing their outfit passively when the stitching of the stranger's jacket caught her eye. The cut of the garment overall was just insanely cool. Clean stitching, interesting shape and movement. The other girl just looked well put together from head-to-toe. She cleared her throat slightly, voice soft as she stepped closer to the other. "Sorry to bother you, but I have to know...where did you get your jacket from?" Signe offered the stranger a sheepish smile. "I design stuff, and your jacket is just wicked." After a beat, she tugged at the hem of her oversized cardigan. "I promise that wasn't meant to be weird. You just have really great taste."
She could see the way he looked at her and it made her breath catch a little. He looked at her not like she was just pretty, or hot, or even just dressed up, but like she was something unbelievable. Her cheeks warmed and she smiled to herself, tucking her hair behind her ears as she laughed softly. “You are the chef, though. What should I call you instead?” she challenged, her eyes glittering mischievously. It was addicting, the way he reacted to her. The fact that she had any sort of power over a man like Charlie set her insides ablaze. She accepted the pastry brush, doing her best to avoid looking at him and that smile on his face that made her want to kiss him stupid. Signe brushed the edge of the pastry brush against the side of the bowl before applying the glaze like he’d asked her to. His touch at her back was barely there, but it was grounding in a way. A reminder that she was actually here – that he wanted her here. “Toast in a dramatic way,” she repeated, glancing up from her task to raise an eyebrow at Charlie. “Got it. I’ll set a baguette on fire and call it performance art,” she joked, trying to keep focused on her task even as she felt Charlie’s eyes on her. The playlist game was a stroke of a genius, but she'd ended up shooting herself in the foot overthinking the task, as she had a habit of. “I panicked halfway through making my playlist and I’ve second-guessed just about every choice. It’s a bit confused, but I think I’m satisfied with it.” She put the brush down and turned to look at him, smiling slightly. “Your playlist, however, I am infinitely curious about.” The smile softened further as he admitted to liking her in his space. “I like being here,” she said, almost shy. “Even though it’s definitely my first time here, it feels … natural? Like we do this all the time.”
Charlie's breath hitched at the sight of her. The outfit was stunning, but what really knocked the wind out of him was knowing she’d made it herself. Intention in every choice. He let himself take her in, didn’t bother to hide it, but his gaze wasn’t greedy; there was a flicker of pride. He leaned into the kiss on his cheek with a soft chuckle, letting it linger for a beat. Something about it felt easy, like they’d done this a hundred times already, even if it was only their second date.
"You’re tryin’ to ruin me first, let’s be honest here," he murmured with a crooked smile, cheeks faintly flushed from the heat of the oven, or maybe not just that. "By the way, that is the plan, Signe. I'm pretty sure that's what datin' is.. at least if your datin' me.." He teased with a knowing smirk. "Oi, there you go callin' me chef again like I've got the willpower to resist it." The glaze was ready in its little bowl, and he handed her the pastry brush without a word at first, just that same stupid smile, like he couldn’t quite believe she was here. In his kitchen. Like he didn’t want to blink in case she vanished.
"Right over the top, yeah? Generously. She’s the star of the show tonight," he said, nodding toward the salmon. "And you’re the only one I trust not to mess her up." He moved behind her to check the crostini, his hand grazing the small of her back as he passed, not by accident, but not exactly by design either, just a point of quiet connection. "I'm holdin’ you to that, by the way," he added, voice lighter again. "The cooking.. Doesn’t even need to be fancy, just make me toast in a dramatic way and I’ll call it gourmet."
He slid the crostini out of the oven with a triumphant hum and set them on the counter, glancing over his shoulder at her. This time, when he looked at her, it lingered. "Works for me, love. Though I am dyin' to hear what music you've picked for me." Charlie bumped their shoulders, "Feels good.. You here."
She giggled softly to herself, amused by how much a single word affected him. Signe bumped her hip against his with a playful grin. “Well, Charlie,” she said, drawing out the syllables of his name. “You know I’m only looking at you like that because you make it impossible not to.” Their bantering had grown more playful, more flirtatious since their first date. Which made sense considering the boundaries that she’d dissolved so quickly in his presence. And yet, it still surprised her – how easy it was to be a less curated version of her. Like he saw past all of her facades to the girl underneath and he didn’t balk at any of it. It was intoxicating. His ears had flushed pink as he teased her and Signe could only smile at the sight. He gestured towards the wine fridge and Signe nodded, wiping her hands on a spare dish towel and getting ready to cross the kitchen, when he gently pulled her back. His lips were on hers and Signe instinctively melted into his embrace. A little stunned, she doesn’t rush it or pull away too fast. She merely stays close, her hand placed on his chest, her thumb brushing lightly along the fabric of his shirt, anchoring herself in the moment. Charlie pulled away and her eyes remained close for a moment longer, savoring it before she blinked at him slowly. “That was so rude,” she murmured once she found her voice again. “You can’t just kiss me like that and then go back to casually chopping vegetables. Jesus.” While the words were aimed at him, she wasn’t truly expecting a response. There was no heat in her words, just the warm glow of affection. She moved toward the wine fridge, casting a glance over her shoulder at him. He’s back at his task, but smiling to himself. It was moments like that – his hand finding the small of her back, the offhand kiss that left her blinking at the wine fridge like she forgot why she opened it – they meant so much to her. Her hand hovered over the bottles before she settled on one with a pale pink label. She notices the way he looks at her. Notices before whenever she turns to look at him, he’s already looking back. Signe was scared of getting use to the feeling. What if a day came when he saw all of her? The parts of her that doubt joy and second guess everything. What if that day came and he changed his mind? Signe allowed herself to look at him again–his hair messy from running damp fingers through it, his sleeves pushed up, and that ridiculous little smile on his face like he knew she was watching. Something inside of her quieted at the sight of that smile. She liked him so much, and she wasn't going to ruin that by over fixating. With the wine selected, she walked back over to Charlie, holding the bottle up. “Did you want to open it, or should I? I can do it if you point me in the direction of your finest bottle opener,” she teased.
Charlie let out a low laugh, shaking his head as he rinsed his hands. "Nah, Signe. You don’t say it like my coworkers do. If they said it like you, we'd have an HR complaint on our hands... Don’t call me chef unless ya want me to start barkin’ orders or critique your knife skills." He glanced back at her with a grin, the warmth in his voice unmistakable. "Just call me Charlie. That’s already more than enough." There was a beat where he looked at her again, saw that wicked little glint in her eye, and smirked. "Though for the record.. if you keep lookin’ at me like that and sayin’ things with that mouth... I have a hard enough time with one knee. You might knock 'em both out from under me." He raised a brow, "Right, right.. movin’ on," he laughed, hands raised in mock surrender, the tips of his ears just the tiniest bit pink.
He took the bowl from beside her and turned toward the sink, but as always, he didn’t stay away long. There was a pull to her. Undeniable. Like gravity had adjusted to her. "Whatever you put together, I’ll love it," he added more softly now, rinsing the bowl. "I like that you cared enough to stress over it. It means something. That’s all I’ll say or I’ll start gettin’ sappy and you’ll mock me." He bumped her elbow lightly with his own as he returned, moving beside her to start chopping the vegetables. His fingers worked confidently, effortlessly, but his eyes flicked to her with every few slices, like he couldn’t help it.
"Why don’t you head over to the wine fridge?" he asked, nodding in its general direction with his chin, knife still in hand. "I’ve got a few different moscatos chillin’ in there. They’re all kind of the same, but go with whichever label speaks to you." Then he paused, completely mid-chop. "Oh.. wait." He reached for her hand, a gentle tug drawing her toward him in one smooth motion. No rush, just closeness. Just him. And then he leaned in and kissed her like it was something he’d been meaning to do all evening. Nothing dramatic. Just warm, certain, and grounding.
When he pulled back, there was a spark of mischief in his own smile now, but something tender beneath it too. "Just realized I hadn’t done that yet. Didn’t want it hangin’ over my head while you were choosin’ wine," he said lightly, going back to chopping as if he hadn’t just completely short-circuited his own train of thought. His voice was a little quieter after that, but no less sincere. "Glad you like bein’ here, by the way. Feels natural to me, too. Like we didn’t have to work at it. Just… fit." He glanced over again, this time pausing the movement of his knife. "And if your playlist’s even half as thoughtful as your outfit, I know I’m in for it. Might cry. Might fake cry for sympathy. No tellin’, really." He nudged her gently with his shoulder again, eyes lingering on hers. "Go on, then. Pick the wine. I’ll try not to burn anything while you’re gone."
Signe grinned as she watched Bella work her magic on the bracelet, finally forcing the knot into submission and untangling it. She let out a soft, impressed laugh and shook her head. "I feel like that has to be a resume-worthy skill, right?" She offered the girl a playful, half-smile before reaching out to accept the bracelet. "Well, I am pretty well-known for my unwavering moral support," she teased, playing along. "It was obviously my standing here and doing absolutely nothing that got us through that whole ordeal." Signe turned the bracelet over in her hands, smoothing it out now that it was untangled. "There was a second there I thought we might have to sacrifice it to the jewelry gods," she glanced back at Bella, lifting an amused eyebrow. "But no, you pulled through. My hero!" Signe giggled and gently bumped her shoulder against Bella's. "No, but seriously. Thank you. I was going to toss it into the ocean and then I'd probably be fined for littering."
bella wasn't really one that liked to give up on anything so she was one that would continue with something until she ended up getting it. and that's exactly what she had been trying her best to do with this bracelet until the knot had finally began to be undone. " there we go! " she responded as if it was one of her greatest accomplishments that she could've ever made. wasn't sure how since it really was proving to be difficult. and quite stubborn and knotted up. " see it was your faith in me that let me do it. " she laughed jokingly before handing the bracelet back over to signe so that she could begin on what she was planning on doing. " maybe it was going to be but i am not one to give up easily. or that easily. maybe that was a slight lie since i almost did but we don't have to talk about that. " she'd respond playfully.
“…Then I’ll stretch, maybe sketch, take a climb… sew a dress!”
[ Hours later after the date ] SIGNE: oh my god 😳 SIGNE: Were you creeping on me?? SIGNE: I... /maybe/ ... had a date. 👀 It was all very sudden honestly SIGNE: His name is Charlie
Adriana: UMMM HELLO?!? Adriana: Excuse me, Miss Ma'am! Adriana: Are we just out here having the CUTEST little picnic date like it's straight out of a rom-com?!??! Adriana: Here I am all by my lonesome, dancing away to some frankly painful karaoke singers when I spot what couldn't POSSIBLY be my best friend out living her best life 😳 I nearly dropped my malibu sunrise! Adriana: Absolutely unacceptable that I wasn't briefed prior to this. I expect a full report on my desk PRONTO, Missy. Adriana: But well done 😘
resoluxe \ˈre-zə-ˌluks\ 1. the quality of resolving a challenge or decision with sophistication, elegance, and luxury.
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