Signe laughed softly, a hand instinctively lifting to twiddle with her hair as her cheeks warmed. “Sparkly goddess eyes? Now, I’m sure you tell that to all the girls,” she said with amusement, although there was a shy gratitude there as well like she wasn’t sure how to respond to the compliment said so matter-of-factly. “I’ll admit, I don’t know all that much about astrology. I just blame everything on Mercury in retrograde and call it a day.”
“ it's in your features , ” serena notes , earnest . “ libras are ruled by venus . you've got the soft features and sparkly goddess eyes . that and the elongated facial structure . once you know what to look for , it's pretty obvious . ” serena shares it like this is well known knowledge — and to most , it definitely isn't .
Signe hadn’t meant to let it show. Not really. Not the little glances, not the way her hand lingered beside his longer than necessary, not the way her laugh escaped her so easily. But Charlie was leaning in, not just physically, but in an open, fearless way that had something in her quiet defenses cracking. She felt the tiny brush of his pinky against hers and she held her breath. Her gaze flicked down briefly and then lifted back to his. The breath she took was barely audible, but it felt like lightning in her chest. She was hyper aware of everywhere that he brushed against her and it was more than a little infuriating. She tried to focus on the bounty of food that he has prepared for them, but it didn’t help much. His exaggerated flailing had her giggling once more, and only the mention of his fashion disasters had stopped her laughter. Signe immediately straightened, eyes sparkling at the idea. “I almost forgot! Come, come, show me!” She bit her lip to fight a smile as he lamented his interrupting her creative process. It was something she hadn’t considered – how much inspiration she gets from how artists depict clothing and movement - and he had noticed it without even trying. Her hand turned where it rested next to his, pinky hooking with his just slightly. Not an accident this time. Her gaze had been focused down on their linked pinkies when he spoke again. You’re brilliant. Signe’s eyes snapped up to look at Charlie, eyes wide at how open the statement was. It felt like it went beyond simple flirting. She felt the warmth rising in her cheeks–too sudden, too real. His words curled around her heart, and ached with equal parts longing and fear. And it wasn’t that she didn’t like hearing it–God, she did. His voice was so earnest, his eyes soft and open in a way that made it hard to look away. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? He didn’t know her. Not really. Not yet. For a moment, she didn’t speak like she was trying to figure out which part of her to offer him next. She let out a soft, steadying breath and smiled gently. “I like this too,” she admitted. “Being around you…you’re…” She fought a smile. “You’re really easy to like.” Signe was surprised by how easily the words came out, despite the nerves blooming in her stomach. “I just…You don’t really know me yet. You’re seeing a version of me that’s–charming, or whatever.” Signe dropped her gaze, feeling vulnerable as she was more honest with him than she normally was with most people. “I guess I just worry that if you get past that…the rest might not be what you were expecting.” In an effort to ease some of the tension between them, Signe looked back up at him, a teasing smile gracing her lips. “I mean, you don’t even know my last name yet.”
Charlie could’ve listened to her laugh for hours. There was something about the sound that cut right through him, easy and bright, pulling a smile to his face before he could think to stop it. There was a bounce of playful energy between them, but beneath it was something warmer, steadier.
Her swat at his hand after the teasing tickle made him laugh, the kind of laugh that was unfiltered, childlike, and entirely sincere. He leaned back slightly, raising both hands in surrender. “Alright, alright! Message received. Hands where you can see ’em.” But his grin stayed put, and so did the glint in his eye. “I’ll behave.. for now.” He couldn’t help the way he shifted closer in the moment, legs stretched out toward hers, the spread of food between them giving way to the smaller space they were now sharing. He could feel her hand beside his, so close they brushed against each other as he'd reached to grab a strawberry; his knee bumping against her leg. It wasn’t intentional, not fully, but Charlie wasn’t about to pull back either, after all, he rationalized to himself, they were where she could see them.
And then she started talking about her parents. That fondness in her voice hit him somewhere deep in the chest. The way she spoke about their love, their support, it sounded so easy coming from her lips. He listened, picking at the food in front of them with absent hands, but his focus never drifted. His gaze stayed locked on her, quiet admiration softening his features. “Sounds like you hit the jackpot there,” he spoke softly, the smile on his lips genuine but touched with something deeper around the edges. “You know, havin’ people who back you like that… who make it easy to believe in yourself.” He didn’t add not everyone gets that. Didn’t need to. It sat there, unspoken, in the small pause that followed.
When she gave him that playful shove to the shoulder, Charlie leaned into the dramatics again, tipping himself back with a groan like she’d knocked the wind out of him. “Oi! Tryin’ to take me out before I can show off my terrible fashion choices?” His laugh filled the space between them, light and easy, but his eyes stayed soft on her. It was the way she told her story honestly, no bravado, just the kind of quiet passion that made him feel lucky to be listening; that had him leaning in closer without even realizing. His pinky brushed against hers as he adjusted, and this time, he let it stay. Let it slide over, slow and deliberate, his hand shifting just enough that the side of his finger rested against hers fully.
He felt it when she noticed. Felt the small intake of breath, and that crooked smile of his softened into something gentler, something almost shy. “I’m guessin’ that’s why you were starin’ at that painting, yeah?” His voice lowered, teasing but tender. “Caught you right in the middle of your creative epiphany, did I?” Then, leaning back just slightly, but not enough to break the closeness between them, he raised a brow, feigning horror. “Shit… wait. Did I interrupt your whole process? Could’ve stopped the world from experiencin’ the next great piece of fashion. You’ll have to put me in the acknowledgments now, yeah? ‘Dedicated to the lad who ruined my artistic vision by flirtin’ too hard.’” The smirk curved at the edges of his lips, but there was no mistaking the warmth in his eyes. The way he looked at her like he saw all of her, not just the polish she might’ve meant to present.
When he spoke again, his voice dropped into something softer, more honest. “I mean it, though. The way you talk about it.. The way your face lights up… It’s brilliant, Signe. You’re brilliant.” There was that voice in the back of his head, the one that always told him to stay guarded, to keep it cool, to never lean too soft. But tonight, Charlie let himself ignore it. Because he was learning, slowly and stubbornly that gentleness and vulnerability weren’t weaknesses. They were the strongest things he could offer. "I might be comin' on strong, here.. I just don't wanna mess this up.. I like this.. you. I like you."
Celine's expression shifted, barely concealing her amusement. Her eyes glanced down at the basket in his hand with several well-worn books. "Books," she noted, a hint of approval slipping into her voice. "I'm surprised you managed to find that many in a shop like this." His sudden lava lamp factoid made her blink once and then let out a laugh, slightly incredulous. "Astro lamps, huh?" she echoed, folding her arms. "That kind of sounds like the name of a failed disco band from the seventies. I kinda love that." She leaned against one of the nearby display tables and tilted her head at the boy. "Are you always full of obscure trivia, or is today just my lucky day?" she asked.
Henry looked up as he heard the woman speak, wondering if she was actually conversing with him or just thin air. And then she turned to him, causing his cheeks to color up a little bit as her eyes unexpectedly met his. “Well--” Before he really had time to voice his opinion on the sunglasses, she was asking him another question. A faint smile touched his lips as she spoke, though his nose wrinkled just slightly at the idea of couches with suspicious stains. “Well, none of those,” he admitted, and held up the basket that was dangling from one hand, which was full of books. Mostly paperbacks, a few hardcover, many with yellowing pages. He glanced around the store before his eyes turned back to her. “Did you know lava lamps were originally called Astro Lamps and originated in the UK?”
Signe could feel the world narrow just to him. He finally let go of her hand and she barely had time to mourn the loss before he was pulling her closer, arm slipping around her and his palm settled against her side. She could swear she felt every place their bodies touched light up in response. Her eyes met his instinctively, and the way he was looking at her simply knocked the breath straight out of her lungs. For the briefest of moments, her mind scrambled for all the little rules she normally clung to. Don’t kiss on the first date being one of the very first ones. She liked to take her time and keep her heart safe, but all of that crumbled when she looked at him, when she saw the unguarded way he looked at her. So, yeah, she was tossing that rulebook right out the window. He leaned in and Signe was overcome with the dizzying realization that Charlie wasn’t teasing anymore. When he kissed her, it was so careful and unbearably gentle. It was so light that it almost didn’t feel real at first, a question more than a demand. Signe answered it before she could second-guess herself, tilting her mouth into his and her hand sliding up instinctively to rest against the side of his neck, her thumb tracing along his jaw. She kissed him back with the same kind of reverence he showed her. The kiss wasn’t messy or rushed – it was slow and steady like an unspoken promise. When they finally broke apart, just enough to breathe, Signe stayed tucked against him, her fingers sliding down to rest against his chest and feel his heartbeat beneath her palm. Her shining eyes met his and there was no teasing left in her smile, only wonder. “Well,” she whispered, her voice low and raw. “That’s one way to take responsibility I suppose.” Signe bit on her lip to keep her grin from growing wider.
Charlie couldn’t help the delighted laugh that slipped from him, the sound low and warm, as he watched Signe struggle to find her footing. There was something impossibly endearing about the way she stumbled over her words, like he had pulled some invisible thread too taut between them without even meaning to. “I don’t recall sayin’ you had to function,” he teased, his voice lighter now, colored with something almost reverent as his grin pulled wider. His eyes scanned her face like he was committing her to memory—each flush of pink across her cheeks, each flicker of emotion that crossed her eyes.
“So we agree then,” Charlie continued, a playful tilt to his mouth, “I get to stare, and all’s well and good, yeah?” And he was staring, there was no use denying it. His gaze softened as Signe, overwhelmed, ducked against his shoulder for a breath of relief. He let her hand go only to slip his arm around her back, his palm settling against her side like it had always belonged there. Charlie’s heart beat a little harder at the way she smiled up at him, a smile that wrecked him without even trying.
For a moment, he just looked at her, unguarded, as if reading a language only he could understand. His breath caught when her eyes met his, shining and vulnerable and stunning. “I can definitely take responsibility,” he murmured, his voice dropping so low it was barely a whisper between them, the space between their mouths disappearing with each unspoken word. Charlie lifted a hand, threading his fingers into her hair as he cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing softly along her jaw. His forehead barely touched hers, grounding them both. “I’ll take responsibility for this,” he whispered against her lips, and with a real, genuine smile, he closed what was left of the very little space between them, his kiss featherlight at first, a tentative question.
Signe softened hearing her mother’s term of endearment for her, the sound jamming itself somewhere between her ribs and heart. It’s not like she never spoke to her parents or never met up with them just to catch up on life, but she was so recently moved out that the sound of the word on her mother’s lips tugged at her heartstrings and the guilt of moving out. She rolled her eyes, fighting a smile as her mother playfully reprimanded her for the comment she’d made about her artwork. The landscape was beautiful, even better than a photo in her opinion. “Yes, Mamma,” she reached out, grabbing on her mother’s hands and squeezing tight. At her mother’s teasing, probing question, Signe gave an exaggerated sigh. “I’ve been good – things are going well at work. I think I’ve finally gotten through and unpacked all of my boxes.” The minute she had made it home after meeting Charlie for the first time, she had called her mother to catch up and mentioned a boy and date she would be going. So, Sigrid Holmström was probing for details. “There might be someone,” Signe admitted, eyes darting to the side trying to will her blush down. “His name is Charlie.”
seeing her daughter was always a welcome sight and sigrid immediately put down her brush. sure , it had only been a few weeks since she moved out , but sigrid missed her laughter and sparkling eyes more than she would ever miss anyone. "tack , skruttis ," she replied , feeling warm at her daughter's love. the nickname was old , born when she was still a grape in her belly. "i know art is subjective , but if i hear you say anything like that and not refer to monet or renoir we will have words." she couldn't help but smile , reaching out to hold signe's hand. "how have you been , sweetheart. ?" a teasing glint appeared in her eyes. "talking to anyone special lately ?"
Even if she hadn’t confirmed Signe’s suspicions, she would have immediately been able to tell the girl was an artist from the way her eyes sparked with excitement as she spoke about her paintings. The way the words would come out in an enthusiastic rush was a dead giveaway. Signe laughed, glad that the girl related to the sudden itch of inspiration and the frustration at not planning ahead for the moment. “I like to think of the different ways people interpret art is pretty similar to the different ways people can style the same item of clothing,” Signe smiled, fiddling with the ends of her hair, agreeing that it was an interesting phenomenon. “Right? It’s happened to me enough times that you think I’d just learn to carry a sketchpad with me wherever I go.” “I love that you’re painting sunsets,” she said softly, her voice warm and thoughtful. “Most people might think there’s only one way to pain them but it’s just like you said – the time of year, the time of day, the colors can all be so vastly different. And no matter what the way the colors blend together, it’s always beautiful.” Signe tilted her head to the side as she considered the other girl’s question. “I haven’t worked on any sunsets myself lately – I did a few for assignments in high school, though. It kind of turned into this abstract piece–lots of messy layers. It turned into an emotional map of sorts…like this layer was when I was overwhelmed, this layer is where I felt okay again.” She giggled, shaking her head at the memory of the class assignment. “As a teenage girl who’d just moved across the ocean, I bet you can imagine what a mess it was.”
" i do paint, yeah. i have one that i finally got the chance to finish the other day. it's not entirely done yet or good enough to be shown, but it will be eventually. " bella loved to get the chance to talk about her art whenever she had gotten the chance. " it's always been interesting to me how everyone can interpret a certain painting, you know? " the brunette listened the other speak as her eyes had scanned around the other paintings that were on their displays. " i was just about to say the same. sometimes it makes me feel like i should've just brought it to sketch down a simple idea if the inspiration happened to strike me at a random moment. being in a place like this it's almost hard for it not to, you know? " a quick nod of her head soon followed at signe's next comment. " that's always how it ends up working out! you could've had an idea in your head and then the outcome isn't always entirely as you may have pictured for it to be. " there was so many different things that she genuinely loved to paint about. " lately, i've been painting sunsets. there's just something that seems so peaceful about it, some have more of a fall vibe. while others have more of a summer kind of vibe to it. kind of makes me wonder what my next one will possibly end up being. have you worked on any recently? "
The first thing Signe noticed was the smell – the warm, enticing smells wafting from the apartment even as she stood outside the door. Even though she’d chosen her outfit for their date days ago with Adriana’s help, she still had spent too much time getting ready. Worrying if the mesh dress of her own design was too much for a second date, if she was trying too hard to impress him. She didn’t know why she was putting so much pressure on this date when she already knew he liked her, knew that they were both drawn to each other like moths to a flame. And yet, after hearing Charlie’s voice call out that the door was open, she still hovered for half a beat in the doorway. She took in appearance – the towel slung over his shoulder, his sleeves pushed up and putting his impressive forearms on display. This was her first time in his apartment and she took a moment to take in her surroundings. Her eyes paused briefly over the flowers on the island, and smiled to herself before crossing the threshold. He greeted her with a soft Hej and Signe’s heart did a stupid little flip as she recognized the words to be her native Swedish despite their similarity to the English phrase. “It smells absolutely divine in here,” she said, walking over to press a quick kiss to his cheek instead of his mouth. A tiny act of restraint she wasn’t sure she could keep up for long. “You’re out to ruin me for others, aren’t you?” She tried to say the words lightly, but the truth was still there, woven into her tone. “I’m glad I came too,” she smiled, her gaze passing over all the food he’d prepared for her yet again. “You know, once I figure out how to cook, you’ll have to let me treat you sometime.” Signe laughed, soft and slightly nervous, as she came to stand beside Charlie, her shoulder brushing against his side. “I think it’d be a crime to let all this amazing food burn. So, put me to work, Chef,” she grinned. “We can put on the playlists on once the food is out of harm’s way.”
Starter: closed ~ @ofresoluxe ~ Location: Coral Cove Apartment 5B
Charlie had spent half the afternoon pretending not to overthink the whole thing. The ingredients were out; fresh veg, a stupidly nice charcuterie he definitely didn’t need to splurge on, a bouquet of the closest flower he could find that looked like an anemone sitting in a vase on the island, and his tiny kitchen smelled faintly of garlic and anticipation. He wasn’t in his chef whites, obviously, but he had rolled his sleeves up like he might be. He stood in the kitchen, a hand towel tossed over one shoulder. Casual. Effortlessly casual.. Which is to say it had taken him three tries to find a shirt that didn’t feel like trying too hard.
He’d started on the grapes already, just beginning to sizzle in the oven. The crostini were toasted, waiting on the counter, and the whipped goat cheese had been done earlier, just in case he panicked about multitasking. It sat ready in a little dish, sprinkled with thyme leaves he’d picked like it wasn’t a big deal... It was a big deal. Not the thyme, the evening. He didn’t want this to feel like he was performing, waiting to get scouted. They’d already crossed one line a few days ago, very unexpectedly but constantly thought about by him. Tonight, he wanted to let things breathe. Just them, cooking, talking, laughing. Playing that game she’d mentioned, maybe figuring out a new way to be close without rushing toward the next thing.
Charlie had just leaned over, turning his speaker up, when he'd heard the knock come at the door. He wiped his hands on the towel and smiled instinctively. "It’s open! Come in before the garlic burns and I start cryin’," he called, not looking up as he carefully stirred honey into the warm grapes, "unless you’re a burglar, in which case.. welcome, help yourself, just don’t take the goat cheese." The second he caught sight of her, he turned toward her properly, leaning back against the counter with soft eyes and crossing his arms in front of his chest. He’d been smiling more lately. He liked that. "Hej." His voice dropped a little, not on purpose, just naturally warm around her. "Glad you’re here. Crostini’s halfway done, and I’m officially trying not to act smug about how good the flat smells right now." He nodded toward the cutting board by the sink, already set up with the salmon ready to glaze. "We can cook first, or we can start the emotional excavation and let dinner burn in the background. Dealer’s choice." He gave a small, lopsided smile, then added quiet and honestly, "I’m glad you came, Signe."
Lia's boots scuffed against the boardwalk, wind undoing what little effort she'd put into her bun. She caught sight of Dax with that ever-present smirk and couldn't help the eye roll that came with it. "Well, well, well," she said, stopping in front of him, "if it isn't the human embodiment of a moody mixtape." The dark haired girl sank down on the bench beside him, one leg tucked underneath her and smirked at him. "Trouble's such a dramatic word, y'know? I prefer to think of it as light chaos," she shrugged. "Simple things like oversharing with a barista and spending 80 bucks on vintage strings that I absolutely didn't need." Lia tilted her head toward him, giving him a once-over. "What about you? Deeply judging tourists to pass the time, again?"
location : sunset villa beach. status : open . ( @palmviewstarters )
he leaned back against the peeling wooden bench, the salty breeze of palmview ruffling his hair as he glanced around the bustling boardwalk. his tattooed fingers idly drummed against the edge of the bench, rhythm in sync with the distant crash of waves. the sun dipped low, casting long shadows over the surf shops and beachside vendors, their neon signs flickering to life as dusk settled in. he pulled a blunt from his pocket, tapping it thoughtfully against his palm before lighting it up, the tip flaring bright in the growing twilight. inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes, letting the familiar burn settle in his chest. he hadn’t relaxed in a minute — time had a funny way of slipping past in this town, days bleeding into each other with the rhythm of tides.
he exhaled, smoke curling up toward the sky as footsteps approached, scattering seagulls nearby. he cracked one eye open, a smirk curling his lips. " well, look what the tide dragged in. " he drawled, flicking ash to the pavement. his gaze lingered, curiosity sparking in his eyes as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. " so, what kinda trouble you get yourself into today? "
Havana Rose Liu photographed by Valheria Rocha for The Sky is Everywhere, February 2022.
⇢ 🌸 STATUS ﹕ open ⇢ 🌸 TAGGING ﹕signe + utp !! ( @palmviewstarters ) ⇢ 🌸 DETAILS ﹕ signe explores the MANGO BAY ART DISTRICT.
Signe had visited the Mango Bay Art District before, but somehow, it was different when she was now a resident of the neighborhood. The colorful murals along the walls and alleyways seemed particularly vibrant all of a sudden. The Coastal Creations Gallery had its doors open, and like a moth to flame, Signe found herself pulled in. Music was drifting in from somewhere and local artists were mingling beside their pieces. She hovered over one canvas that reminded her of something her mother might've admired in an old museum catalog. Her fingers itched with a need to recreate it, to break its mold and reshape it, but she tampered down the urge. Signe had always been impulsive when it came to her art, and she'd learn in college that she did not allow herself enough time to experience what inspired her before she tried to recreate the feeling. Lost in her thoughts, Signe didn't notice someone approaching until they were right over her shoulder. "Oh!" she blinked in surprise. "I'm sorry, am I blocking your view?"
resoluxe \ˈre-zə-ˌluks\ 1. the quality of resolving a challenge or decision with sophistication, elegance, and luxury.
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