The moment their lips met again, all of the doubt and hesitation seemed to disappear from Charlie as he pulled her close. The whole world floated away, and the only thing that was left was the dizzying sensation of his mouth on hers. He kissed her like she was something precious, like he’d been waiting to do it again from the second he stopped. When they finally broke away, Signe opened her eyes to see his still closed and the sight cleaved at something within her. He opened his eyes and laughed, low and quiet and the corners of her mouth tugged into a soft smile. God, he was going to be her undoing. And maybe it was too fast. Maybe it broke every unspoken rule she usually held herself to rigidly. But Charlie seemed to have a way of pulling all the caution out of her that bypassed logic and timelines and every hesitant script she usually followed. Signe should have been scared by how easily she could lose herself in this but all she felt was the quiet, heady thrill of wanting more. His whispers to her had her cheeks tinged pink, feeling the words settle in the part of her that still sometimes questioned if she was too much or not enough. He pulled back and with a crooked, playful grin asked for her favorite movie, casually, as if they’d been in the middle of a game of Twenty Questions or something. Her laugh came out a little breathless and she shook her head. “That’s what you’re going with after kissing me like that? My favorite movie?” Her eyes glittered with amusement as she just watched him for a moment. “You’re ridiculous,” she said softly, unable to stop smiling. “My favorite movie is called The Half of It. It’s about a queer Chinese-American girl and it’s a coming of age story and I saw so much of myself not just in the main character, but the supporting characters too.” It was a special story to her even if it was a more recent movie than some she’d watched and loved in her childhood. She glanced down at the hand still resting against her side and the soft drag of his thumb against her dress making goosebumps raise along her arms. Signe’s eyes lifted and watched as he took a drink from his water bottle, a wicked smile on his lips as he drank. Her eyes went a little unfocused as she zeroed in on his mouth, remembering the feel of it against her own and only snapped out of her thoughts when Charlie’s shoulder bumped against hers. She registered his words and his teasing smile and heat returned to her cheeks ( had it ever really left from the moment she entered his presence ? ). She fought a smile, knocking her shoulder against his. “Shut up,” she muttered under her breath, a little embarrassed at being caught staring, but not at all remorseful.
Once Signe’s hand found the side of his neck, Charlie didn’t think, he simply pulled her closer. The last shred of doubt, the fear that she might pull away, evaporated the second her mouth met his again, firmer this time, answering him with a tenderness that made his chest ache. There was no hesitation in the way he kissed her now, no lingering shyness, only this, only them, and the dizzying certainty that whatever this thing was between them, it was real.
He breathed out through his nose as they finally, reluctantly, pulled apart, his forehead pressing lightly against hers. Charlie’s eyes stayed closed a moment longer, as if trying to trap the feeling, the way she tasted like hope and the semla he’d spent the night before working on; the way the world seemed to tilt and steady all at once when she was in his arms. He forced his eyes open, and god, she’s looking at him like that, bright and unguarded. Like he’s something good. Like maybe she’s just as wrecked as he is. A breathless laugh escaped his lips without permission, the sound low and completely sincere. And then Signe’s hand slid down to rest against his chest, right over the place where his heart was thundering like it might break free. Charlie drew a slow, deliberate breath, hoping to steady himself and he knows, he knows, she can feel what she’s doing to him.
After all the years spent wandering from place to place, nights spent with people he hadn’t seen long enough to even learn their names, let alone remember them, Charlie had never felt anything like this, the gut-punch pull to stay. The need to memorize the way she flushed at a compliment, the way her smile tugged shyly at the corners before it bloomed into something brilliant. The need to know her, really know her. Charlie stayed still, like he was afraid even breathing too hard might break the spell between them. He tucked his head beside hers, huffing a shaky little breath against her hair, smiling against it because it’s either that or say something too raw, too soon. His fingers brush along her waist, slow. “You’re somethin’ else, Signe,” he says quietly, the words barely a whisper between them. Another breath. Another half-second where he almost says more. Where he almost tells her he’s never felt like this on a first date, never wanted to stay so badly it physically aches. But he swallows it down for now.
Instead, he leans back just enough to catch her eyes properly again, his forehead brushing against hers one last time as he grins, breathless and boyish and undeniably him. “I’m definitely startin’ to like responsibility,” he murmured, his voice low and playful. His arm tightened around her for just a moment before he peppered smaller, feather-light kisses along the slope of her cheek, a low laugh rumbling from his chest, half disbelieving, half proud. “And now that we got that bit sorted…” Charlie pulls back, finally giving them a tiny sliver of space, though his hand stays curled around her side, thumb tracing absent little patterns against the fabric of her dress. His grin sharpens, playful again but his eyes stay soft, drinking her in like he can’t look away. He bumps his nose against hers, that boyish, cocky spark reigniting in his eyes, “What’s your favorite movie?”
The question was so normal he almost startled himself, like he’s inviting her into some private joke that only the two of them know now. Charlie leaned back properly for the first time all night, just enough to put an inch or two of space between them, though his hand never fully left her. He scanned her face again, greedy for it, for the look of her cheeks still tinged pink, the way her eyes softened even when she laughed. Grabbing his water bottle from the blanket, Charlie took a sip, glancing at her as he did, his grin lingering around the bottle. There was a steadiness under the teasing now, something unmistakable. Something that said he wasn’t going anywhere. That whatever this was between them, this quiet, slow-blooming fire, he wanted to stay and see exactly where it led. He lowered the bottle, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and then, without missing a beat, bumped his shoulder lightly against hers, the grin tugging at his mouth unmistakable. “Careful, love.” Charlie says, voice low and teasing, “Keep lookin’ at me like that and I’m gearin' to start askin’ a lot more questions.”
Signe watched him carefully, catching the tenderness in his face as he talked about his mum. When he said he couldn’t wait to call her, her smile softened. “That’s really sweet. I’m sure she’ll love that you thought of her." But then he asked about her designs, and she could practically feel her walls go up. Her hand smoothed the hem of her shirt, a nervous habit. She laughed—soft, and a little awkward—and ducked her head, letting her hair fall forward to hide how off-guard his genuine interest had caught her. People were usually politely curious, not… excited. “I mostly do sketches,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “I’ve put a few things together, but I’m still building my portfolio. I haven’t really shown many people…” Her thumb traced the strap of her bag. He’s probably just being nice. Still, when she glanced back, his eyes were bright, no hint of teasing in sight. That steadiness nudged something loose in her. “…But if you’re really interested, I could show you one of my mood boards sometime?” she offered, unsure but hopeful. She found herself giggling despite herself as he joked about football being an art form. “I don’t know that I’m an authority,” she said, “but if it makes people feel something, I think an argument could be made.” Her eyes shone as he tried pronouncing her name – the words coming out a little clumsy but filled with more effort than most made to get it as close to the authentic pronunciation. “I’m not one to judge accents,” Signe smiled, gesturing at her herself. Even after years in the States, her Swedish accent still slipped out sometimes. She allowed him to tell her about his passion for cooking – about nostalgia and Italy, and found herself utterly charmed by his sincerity. “Oh,” she exhaled, his invitation to spend more time together catching her by surprise. Signe blinked rapidly before answering him, almost shyly and more quietly than she’d intended. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
"You're not wrong at all. I might have to ask her if she actually likes flowers.. Besides, you know, gettin' em for Mother's Day and stuff." His face softened as she talked about the beauty and color. Charlie's mind drifted to where they'd lived when he'd grown up; all brick buildings, broken gutters and hardly a touch of color on the streets. A council estate where beauty wasn't a main priority. "You're.. Huh.. You might be spot on there. I can't wait to call me mum later and chat about it." Charlie's eyes lit up at the mention of fashion. "You jokin' me? You have to show me some of your stuff. I bet you're great at it."
"Now I'm just gonna keep askin' ya if things I enjoy are art. And if it's about how it makes me feel, football was.. I guess it still is my favorite art form?" He laughs at how corny it sounds, "I might take that back. Somethin' about an athlete sayin' they're an artist.. Nah." Charlie's laugh continues, "I cringed at meself." He waved his hands in the air in an effort to erase his words.
"Signe." He repeated, his accent thick, "I promise I'm tryin' to say it like you, but there's no gettin rid of this." Charlie pointed to his mouth with his free hand, looking down at their other hands still together. As he glanced back up, she'd been standing closer, his features all softening at their proximity. "Well, I work at Mango Bay Restaurant.. So I'm always tryin' to come up with some of those more fancy dishes." He pauses, chewing down on his bottom lip as his smile widened. He slowly released her hand, nearly forgetting it was there. "But at me apartment, it's all comfort food from back home. Or- honestly, I think I cook for the nostalgia, yeah? I miss my mates from Italy and suddenly I'm makin' homemade pasta. Goes for anywhere, innit. I just love bein' able to put myself back somewhere with just a taste. Like that guy from Ratatouille." He paused, "I ain't gotta be in for a few more hours.. If.. Would you like to walk with me? We could talk more about your fashion and you could tell me what I'm supposed to notice in all these."
Signe hesitated for a moment, trying to decide if her request was had crossed a line when the girl reached across and made quick work of the tangled mess that she’d been struggling with for the past ten minutes. She raised an eyebrow at the other, giving a very pointed stare to the flash of fingers working through the knots. “Uh … yes? You look like someone who could take on every knot-related crisis in the tri-county area.” She took the bracelet back gently, her smile leaning towards sheepish. “I sew like…actual clothes. I thought I could handle a couple of pieces of string.” Signe laughed quietly as she studied the now pristine and untangled beginnings of a bracelet. “Apparently not, but you’ve got my full endorsement if you need testimonials for business,” she quipped.
serena takes one look at the knot , “ do i look like i know how to untangle these things ? ” it wasn't supposed to come off any way , but her relaxed tone said otherwise . taking the bracelet without second thought , serena gets to work . “ i used to be obsessed with making these . that might've been my first business actually . ” memories flood back to a little serena , setting up shop in elementary school , her stash of friendship bracelets sitting in her pencil box for her peers to peruse . within seconds , serena hands the bracelet back , shrugging . “ you're making me want to pick this up again . ”
Her shoulders lifted in quiet laughter, amused by the other’s confession. “Well, personally, I think art’s meant to be felt more than understood,” she offered gently. “But I know others have very strong opinions on the matter.” Her voice was all but a whisper, glancing around making sure she didn’t make the same mistake of offending one of the artists. Signe followed the stranger’s gaze, glancing back to see that it didn’t resonate with her either. “Nothing with this one either?” Signe wasn’t the kind to make someone feel bad for ‘not getting it’ so she decided to steer the conversation in a new direction. “Do you live nearby? I just moved into the neighborhood not too long ago, and I decided to go exploring.” After a brief pause, she added with a hesitant smile. “I’m Signe, by the way.”
Marcela didn't frequently spend her free time admiring the art at the Mango Bay Art District, but she had some time to kill after her shift at Retro Roots and decided to check out what local artists had put up recently since she was in the area. If nothing else, this was a step in the right direction towards her goal of being at least a little more responsible with her time this year. What trouble could she really land herself in here?
She was mindlessly wandering around, not spending too much time with any one piece of art when a voice attracted her attention. "Oh no, you're fine. I'm really walking around more than anything." She glanced around for anyone who looked like the stereotypical, pretentious artist types she imagined were responsible for the artwork here. "Between you and me, I think most of this lost on me. I'm pretty sure I accidentally insulted one of the artists the last time I was here by not seeing their vision or something." As she spoke, she shifted a little to peer around the other just to see if she was missing out on something by not viewing this particular piece. Sure enough, though, it didn't really stand out to her.
Ophelia had been browsing the stacks near the music section, scanning the titles when she heard the quiet chaos unfold behind the counter and gave an empathetic wince. "Yikes, you good?" she asked, taking a cautious step forward and then pausing again. A flicker of amusement passed over her face as she noticed the inky smudge on their forehead. "Um. You've got a little..." Lia gestured vaguely between her brows and offered a playful a smile. "It's kind of a look, actually." At their prompting, Lia nodded her head towards the section she had just vacated. "I was actually hoping to find something new for guitar--maybe jazz standards or fingerstyle stuff?" Ophelia had been playing guitar since she was thirteen and her father managed to thrift her first acoustic for her birthday. Since then, she'd made it her personal mission to never stop learning or honing her skills. The internet was great, but sometimes, a book is what really did the trick.
「 ✱ 」 STATUS ﹕ open . 「 ✱ 」 LOCATION ﹕ the book nook . 「 ✱ 」 WITH ﹕ jasper & open ( @palmviewstarters )
it was a quiet day at the bookstore, with only the sighs of worn pages to keep jasper company, and so he softly hummed to himself as he sorted through the new arrivals. romance, mythological retellings, dusty vintage classics. piles towered over the timid boy that cast wobbling shadows over his features. the shuffle of company brought him from his trance. an elbow nudged the leaning tower of thrillers, and in a moment jasper’s arms were filled with cascading novellas threatening to spill. “hey ! sorry, one second … ” paperbacks were shrugged onto the counter with a limp plop. breathless, they attempted to fix a strand of unruly brunette which promptly pinged back into its clumsy position. the ends of their fingers were inky from refilling the receipt printer and they smeared a long black mark across their forehead. “are you looking for something particular today ? we have the right book for everybody.”
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? "
⇢ ✨ STATUS ﹕ closed. ⇢ ✨ TAGGING ﹕celine + jack !! (@anchorsfm ) ⇢ ✨ LOCATION ﹕outside of jack's apartment.
Celine wiped at a smudge on her daughter's cheek, even though Rosie had made it crystal clear she was not trying to impress anyone. Eight going on eighteen, apparently. She knocked on Jack's door twice, signaling their arrival and the second the front door opened, Rosie had barreled past both of them shouting a dramatic, "Hi Dad, bye Mom!" and disappeared down the hallway towards her bedroom. Celine blinked after her. "Aaand she's gone," she muttered, still holding the weekend overnight bag in her hands. She handed the bag off to Jack, and then stuck her hands in the back pocket of her jeans. "Okay, I know she just got here," she begin, lingering in the doorway instead of heading back to her car, "but, there's something I wanted to talk to you about. It's not bad," she added quickly, immediately seeing the familiar flicker of concern in his eyes. "Just... something you should know." Her voice dropped a little, quieter and more careful, to make sure Rosie didn't overhear. "She asked me last night if she could start going by Rose instead of Rosie. She was so serious about it too. Said Rosie is for little kids and she's basically nine now, so...you know." Celine gave a small, fond eye roll at that and her small smile was tinged with a melancholy that she was certain Jack would recognize. "I said of course. But I think it's a phase. It might not be, but it just felt like one of those things where she might only say something to one of us hoping we'd be the messenger." Her gaze lingered on him for a moment. It had been a year since everything changed. A quiet divorce, no scandals, just ... truth. A truth Jack hadn't been ready to say out loud, and one Celine had tried her best to hold with grace.
Celine lifted a brow at the boy, turning the star-shaped sunglasses in her hands like she was debating if his description was accurate or not. "Well, you're not wrong," she smirked, "I probably could swipe my ex's car — though I don't think he would be too upset, which probably kills some of the drama." She popped the glasses onto her face with a flourish, the frames clashing delightfully with the red of her outfit. "For the record, I didn't watch Heathers—I lived it." Celine gave him a once-over that was filled with amusement. He barely looked old enough to know what a VHS tape even was. "You look like the kind of boy who grew up rewinding Elvira clips on Youtube and never recovered." The woman stepped around him, her eyes scanning over the treasure trove of nostalgia that was Retro Roots. There was more than one item that seemed it could come to life, if it wasn't already. "Sentient? Kid, if something in here starts whispering in Latin, I'm leaving you to get possessed while I call your emergency contact." She glanced over her shoulder, and shot him a wink over the rim of the sunglasses.
⇢ ✨ STATUS ﹕ open ( 0/6 ) ⇢ ✨ TAGGING ﹕celine + utp !! ( @palmviewstarters ) ⇢ ✨ LOCATION ﹕ retro roots.
“This store is either a fever dream or a trap,” Celine muttered under her breath, eyeing a hot pink rotary phone like it might bite her. “I swear my aunt had one just like this, just covered in cigarette ash.” She picked up a pair of gold-framed, star-shaped sunglasses and ran a finger long the edge. She caught motion in her peripheral vision and glanced up, raising an eyebrow with faux gravitas. “Hey, these scream ‘divorced and dangerous,’ right? Asking for a friend." Celine's smirk widened, taking in her fellow shopper before tilting her head. There was something about the otherworldly, out of time feel of the store that had her lowering her usual guard, just a little. “What's your poison? Lava lamps? VHS tapes? …Velvet couches with suspicious stains?”
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 smiled gently, the gesture growing even softer as she registered the one of the many pet names her father had for her. Her gaze lingered on the painting for a second before turning towards her father and shaking her head. “It’s fine. The moment’s passed,” she shrugged, her eyes warm even as her heart felt heavy with a feeling she couldn’t quite name. “Fika fixes most things, anyway.” She never forgot how lucky she was. As a teenager, she’d been absolutely terrified of deviating from the path she was so certain was expected of her. But her parents had never scoffed or rolled their eyes at her passion, never sat her down to steer her back toward something ‘more practical.’ Signe knew that was not the case for everyone. That not everyone had parents who would let them want different things–to let them just try. The chestnut-haired girl wrapped an arm around her father’s waist, already leading him away from the painting and back out towards the street. “There’s a cute little coffee shop a few blocks over that I was wanting to check out, if you’re up for a bit of walking.” Signe glanced up at him, a measured easy smile on her lips. But behind her eyes lay a quiet resolve. She would make every sacrifice her parents had ever made for her matter. She had to. For herself—and for them.
pappa. it never got old, hearing her refer to him in the same way that she had since she was able to talk. he remembered those first syllables so vividly — after signe had mastered ‘mamma’ he sat, stared, and watched her for hours on end, tuned into her young babbling like radio static. just when he had almost lost hope, she had mustered the first p, and then the rest of the syllables. in that moment, søren had vowed never to underestimate his only child again. and he never had. it would have been easy for the two parents to turn their nose up at signe’s desire to pursue something creative. a doctor and a professor, with enough credits after their names to make up an entire new alphabet … it didn’t matter, so long as signe was happy. the holmströms had money — søren had worked in order to be a provider for their family — and there had never been any doubt that helping their daughter chase her dreams was where that wealth belonged. he didn’t always understand it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t support it. “oh, sötnos, i didn’t mean to ruin your focus.” søren straightened his back and followed signe’s gaze the the painting she had been admiring. he still couldn’t quite believe that their daughter had ended up with his pale gaze. “can i help you get it back? there’s nothing fika can’t fix.” one arm draped around her shoulders and squeezed lightly. “is there anywhere you had in mind ? ”
When Charlie pulled her close, Signe ducked her head slightly, trying to hide her pleased smile at his reaction to her words and her touch. “So, you’re saying I affect you?” she asked with a playful tilt of her head. “You seem to be doing a pretty good job of surviving the night so far.” By some miracle, Signe was doing a decent job of keeping it together herself. She wasn’t sure how her heart hadn’t leapt straight out of her body at this point. The warmth in Charlie’s voice and the tenderness in his smile, even the way he brushed their noses together – it was all so dizzying in the best way. His quiet declarations and the way he kept opening up to her – allowing himself to be vulnerable – was more than she had ever expected for this date. She liked the way that he softened for her, like he was making a choice and peeling back layers he didn’t offer just anyone. It was absolutely undoing her. So, instead of teasing him, she offered him some vulnerability in return. “You don’t have to be better for me, Charlie. Although, the fact that you want to is…” Signe smiled, shaking her head. “You can’t be so perfect all at once.” “Oh, don’t fuss. You look perfect!” A squeal escaped her lips as his arm wrapped around her middle and he lifted her off the ground. Her feet touched back down and she erupted into giggles, leaning into the kisses he pressed to her cheek. Her breath hitched slightly and her eyes flared with heat at the sound of his voice dropping low and his hands traced up her hips. There was a boldness to Charlie’s touch that might have sent her running on another night with someone else. But with him, the touch was grounding. She hummed, turning in his arms to face him better. “You weren’t ready for a selfie – you think you’re ready for a second date?” she teased. Signe raised an eyebrow at him as Charlie laid it all out like he was confident she wouldn’t say no. Sound like a plan? He was too charming for her own good. “Yes, Chef,” she grinned, biting down on her lip. “I’m not the best in the kitchen, but I am a quick learner.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, her stare playful but steady. “But just so we’re clear–I’m not responsible if your very serious process gets totally derailed by me being in your kitchen…or your lap.” She offered him a cheeky grin, her eyes dancing. “You’re really gonna let me pick dessert, though? Whatever I want?”
Charlie’s breath caught somewhere between a laugh and a groan as her fingers danced over his chest, her touch light but loaded. His heart-rate hadn't failed to speed up as she teased him back, her own playful nature shining now. Charlie cleared his throat, hand around her waist tugging her a bit closer, "Well if you keep doin' that, I'll end up makin' declarations I shouldn't be makin' yet." He hummed, his chest rising and falling with the weight of their proximity. "Sayin’ things like that with your hand there.. how am I supposed to survive the night without makin’ a complete idiot of myself?"
Her words, her kiss, the quiet way she spoke about liking who she was around him, it all knocked the wind out of his chest. He smiled, but softer now. Not the cocky grin he wore like armor, but something honest. "Well, I like who I am when I’m with you too." He tilted his head just enough so his nose brushed hers. "Feels like I get to breathe a little easier." He shivered at the feeling of her fingers skimming along his collarbone and tensed, not out of discomfort, but because of how good it felt, how easily she undid him. Charlie instinctively clenched his jaw, the muscles tightening under her touch. His lips parted in a slow breath, "That version of me we’re talkin’ about.." He stared into Signe's eyes, seriousness painting his face, "I ain't gonna be like I used to with you, Signe.. this is different. You make me wanna be even better."
And then she spun in for the selfie and all the heat broke into laughter. He barely had time to register what was happening before she was taking pictures, and he leaned into her with a surprised laugh, cheeks aching from smiling, "Oi! Warn a bloke next time! My hair’s not even fixed!" Charlie laughed out, one arm quickly wrapping around Signe's waist to steady her against his body while the other slipped through his hair. His laugh rang out, fingers gripping at her side as he lifted her up with the one arm, "Unfair, I wasn't ready!" He smiled wider, peppering a few kissing to her cheek as he placed her back down. Charlie rest his chin on her shoulder, watching with her as she'd scrolled through the pictures. When she turned back with that look in her eye, he caught it and raised an eyebrow in response, "Unhinged, you say?" His hand slid teasingly along her hip. "I'm always interested in unhinged, Holström... But if you leave it up to me, we might need to solidify that second date.. I told ya, I'm doin' it right with you."
He let the suggestion linger for a moment, then leaned in again, closer, softer, his voice dropping just enough to make the air between them buzz. "What do you think about a quieter second date? We skip the crowd, yeah? You come over, I’ll cook us somethin’ proper... Or.. Better idea, you help me cook. You can be my sous chef. I’ll show you a few tricks, teach you how to plate like we’re servin’ in a Michelin kitchen, and you can mock my very serious process." His smirk tugged at one side of his mouth as his hand slid across her stomach, both hands now landing on either of her hips. "Then we queue up that movie of yours, get cozy, and if you’re lucky... I might even let you pick dessert.. it's typically a specific menu for me, but you seem to like mixin’ things up.." A beat, his eyes locked on hers. "Sound like a plan?"
resoluxe \ˈre-zə-ˌluks\ 1. the quality of resolving a challenge or decision with sophistication, elegance, and luxury.
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