Signe   startled   as   Adriana   erupted   on   the   other   side   of   the 

Jodi Anasta as Elly Conway & Zoe Cramond as Amy Williams NEIGHBOURS (1985 - ) Episode 7813 (2018)

Celine   let   out   a   snort   at   the   idea   of   taking   their   daughter   out   of   sports.   Rosie   had   developed   into   quite   the   little   athlete,   but   no   sport   sung   to   her   the   same   way   soccer   did.   Her   parents   being   who   they   were,   of   course,   had   signed   her   up   for   dance   classes   and   theater,   but   while   she   enjoyed   those   as   hobbies,   Celine   could   see   the   true   spark   in   her   whenever   she   talked   about   her   sport.    "Sure,   you   try   to   pull   her   out   of   soccer   and   let   me   know   how   that   conversation   goes,"   she   smirked.   Jack   invited   her   in   and   she   hesitated   for   the   briefest   of   moments.   She   stared   after   the   space   where   Rosie   had   just   vanished   and   then   turned   her   gaze   back   to   Jack.   His   features   still   familiar   to   her,   and   she   was   still   able   to   read   him   so   easily.   It   was   a   miracle   he'd   been   able   to   keep   anything   from   her   in   the   years   they   were   together. Celine   exhaled   and   nodded,   stepping   inside,   her   eyes   flicking   to   the   snack   on   the   counter.   She   smiled   to   herself—it   was   just   further   proof   that   Jack   was   still   trying   his   damnedest   to   be   the   kind   of   dad   Rosie   deserved.   She   respected   him   more   than   she   could   ever   say   aloud.   Jack   had   always   been   good,   just   not   hers.   Not   fully.   Not   in   the   way   she   thought   she'd   signed   up   for.   And   so,   a   year   later,   they   were   still   trying   to   find   their   way   through   parenting   together,   but   separately. "I   think   she's   just   testing   the   waters.   That's   what   I'm   hoping   at   least.   I   know   she'll   want   to   be   called   Rose   some   day   for   real,   but   I'm   praying   we've   got   a   few   years   left."   There   was   affection   clear   in   her   tone,   and   a   thinly   veiled   pride   for   the   little   girl   with   opinions   too   big   for   her   eight-year-old   frame.   She   studied   Jack   for   a   moment,   catching   the   way   he   rubbed   at   his   face.   He   always   wore   his   guilt   like   a   second   skin.   "I   think...she's   just   trying   to   figure   out   who   she   is   and   where   she   fits   now   that   the   dust's   settled." She   stepped   further   into   the   kitchen.   "Schedules   have   never   been   your   strong   suit,"   she   said,   dropping   her   bag   on   the   counter.   Celine   turned   to   look   at   him,   her   eyes   lingering   on   his   face   longer   than   she   meant   them   to.   Still   handsome.   Still   kind.   Still   someone   she   loved—just   not   in   the   way   she'd   thought   she   would   for   the   rest   of   her   life.   "All   right.   Let   me   see   what   you've   got,   I'll   see   if   I   can't   make   something   work."

Jack would be lying if he said he hadn’t been glancing at the clock all morning waiting for his daughter to arrive. Every minute closer to drop off made his chest lighter. He'd just finished putting a snack on the counter when there was a familiar knock at the door. The second he opened the door, Rosie launched past him with only the chaotic grace she managed to pull off. "Well, hello to you too!" he called after her, laughing as her bedroom door shut in the distance. He turned back just in time to catch Celine’s blink, her arms still full of the overnight bag. Jack took it from her wordlessly, his fingers brushing hers as he did. Even now, even with everything that had changed, their rhythms stayed in sync. That was what made it harder, sometimes. He still felt pangs of guilt in his chest. They'd been so good together, a true unit, that it felt odd for them to take on parenting separately, yet still somehow together.

"She’s getting too fast," he said, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, holding a heaviness that never seemed to fully lighten between them. "We might need to rethink the sports. One more growth spurt and I’m done for." He paused, then let the smile fade into something softer. At her words 'It’s not bad', something in his chest twisted. A reflex. The kind you build when you’ve had to break news to someone who loved you. He tilted his head slightly, leaning towards the whisper, years of working around sound equipment not doing him any justice.

"Rose?" he echoed, eyebrows rising. "What, is she turning eighty?" He smirked, then sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face, "This whole.." Jack waved his hands around for emphasis, "personality thing... I thought we had a few good years left before puberty snuck in." He looked back briefly, toward the hallway where Rosie, 'Rose?', had disappeared to. Part of him hoped her door would creak back open and she’d be four again, asking him to retie her shoelaces or make up a bedtime story. But instead he looked back at Celine, eyes a little glassier than he meant them to be. "Would you like to come in?" he asked, voice quieter, a step to his side as an open invitation. "If you’re not in a rush. I’ve been trying to figure out her soccer schedule, but it overlaps with the college showcase and.." he exhaled. "I’m still not great at the calendar stuff." The silence that lingered was soft but familiar, like everything between them now, as complicated as it was, was still whole in its own way.

“…Then I’ll stretch, maybe sketch, take a climb… sew a dress!”

⇢ ✨ STATUS ﹕ open ( 2/6 ) ⇢ ✨ 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?”

Maggie Q

She   offered   him   a   secret   smile,   one   that   highlighted   just   how   much   she   enjoyed   their   little   back   and   forth,   like   they   were   the   only   two   who   understood   the   true   meaning   behind   their   words.   A   pleased   flush   was   on   her   cheeks   when   his   lips   brushed   against   them,   the   blush   something   that   was   becoming   a   semi-permanent   trait   in   his   presence.  “Oh,   you   can’t   stop   thinking   about   me?”  Her   hand   came   up   to   his   chest,   her   fingers   trailing   along   the   frankly   disrespectful   display   of   bare   skin   before   lifting   her   gaze   to   his.  “For   the   record,   I   mildly   enjoy   your   company   the  most   when   you’re   making   declarations   like   that.”  With   that   stupid   pretty   mouth   was   the   part   she   left   unsaid.   A   beat   passed   and   then   she   added,   softer.  “But   you’re   right.   I   like   having   you   around…   like   who   I   am   around   you.”   Her   hand   traced   up   his   collarbone   and   then   she   brushed   her   thumb   along   the   edge   of   his   jaw.  “I   don’t   care   who   you   used   to   be,   Charlie.   I   care   about   who   you   choose   to   be   now.   I   know   we   pretty   much   just   met,   but   this   version   of   you?   He’s   a   good   man,”   Signe   leaned   in,   kissing   the   corner   of   his   mouth   with   quiet   intention.  “And   from   the   little   I   know,   even   back   then,   you   had   this   heart   underneath   it   all.   Even   if   you   were   to   slip,   you’d   find   your   way   back.”  She   looked   into   his   eyes,   making   sure   he   saw   how   much   she   believed   the   words   she   was   saying.   She   smiled   and   reached   into   the   pocket   of   her   dress,   pulling   out   her   phone.   “Come   on,   let’s   take   a   selfie.   I   want   to   remember   our   first   date,”   she   said,   whirling   around   and   leaning   back   into   him.   She   snapped   a   few   photos   quickly,   trying   to   catch   him   off-guard   in   a   few   before   he   posed   with   her.   Signe   giggled,   glancing   at   the   photos   on   her   phone.   She   looked   over   her   shoulder   and   smirked,   mischief   sparking   in   her   eyes.  “Want   to   take   a   really   unhinged   one?”

Charlie arched a brow, the cocky edge to his grin settling in as he stepped closer, just enough for her to feel his presence. He raised his eyebrows, leveling his eyes to hers, "You only mildly enjoy my company under very specific circumstances… got it," he said, drawing the words out with playful mock offense. He tilted his head, eyes glittering with teasing challenge as he slowly licked his lips, then dipped his head. "I think," he murmured low near her ear, "you’re tryin’ to keep me around more than you’re lettin’ on." He didn’t move far after that, gaze softening slightly as he leaned back just enough to meet her eyes.

"I get what you mean. Maybe that’s what I am too.. I’ve always chased connection, maybe attention, if we’re bein’ honest. I just liked bein’ around people. Didn’t matter who, really." He paused. "I might feel a bit different now, though... Can’t stop thinkin’ about you." His lips brushed just barely against her cheek, gentle and intentional.

His voice dipped again, quieter this time, the smile faltering only slightly. "My mum never expected much from me.. she just wanted me happy. It was everyone else. Coaches, mates, teachers… my father.. they saw potential and pushed it hard. I was good, so it made sense." He shrugged, the motion small but rigid at the edges. "And then it was.. well I had to change plans. Just like that." His injury may have been nearly a decade prior, but it hadn't hurt him any less.

Charlie’s eyes dropped for a moment, thumb brushing lightly along her arm aimlessly, grounding himself as much as her. "I think what scares me most is slippin’ back into who I used to be.. The kid with a mile hight wall, always deflectin’ with a joke.. Or worse, turnin’ into the men I was raised around." He looked down at her, thoughtfully, "I don't wanna be the man I was.. I really like what I have now, and I don't intend on screwin' this up." He looked back up at her then, the smile returning, smaller but more real. "And I’m not gonna, Signe. Not with you. I'm not goin' anywhere and I mean that. You're not gonna scare me away."

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."

The   way   Charlie   was   looking   at   her–like   she   was   the   only   thing   that   mattered–made   it   impossible   for   Signe   to   think   straight.   The   kiss   he   pressed   to   the   back   of   her   hand   sent   a   shiver   up   her   spine   and   even   though   she   tried   to   hide   it,   her   breath   hitched   just   enough   to   betray   her.   Her   heart   was   slamming   against   her   ribs   so   loudly,   she   was   certain   he   could   hear   it.   She   opened   her   mouth   once.   Closed   it.   Tried   again,   but   all   that   came   out   was   a   breathy   little   laugh   that   sounded   way   too   much   like   a   gasp.  “I–you–”  she   stammered,   feeling   the   heat   crawl   up   her   neck   all   the   way   to   the   tips   of   her   ears.  “You’re   not–you   can’t   just   say things   like   that   and   expect   me   to   function,   Charlie   Hughes,”    she   reprimanded   although   there   was   no   heat   in   her   words,   only   her   face.   Then   he   started   talking   about   her   wearing   her   own   designs   and   Signe   thought   she   might   actually   melt   into   the   floor.   Without   ever   seeing   her   designs,   he   made   he   feel   like   her   work–like she–   was   something   worth   admiring   like   that.   Signe   let   out   a   breath   she   hadn’t   realized   she   was   holding,   a   smile   tugging   at   her   lips.  “I   guess   it’s   only   fair,”    she   said,   her   voice   still   breathless,   threaded   with   something   that   matched   the   softness   he   offered.  “You’ll   stare,   and   I’ll   be   quietly   losing   my   mind   every   time   you   look   at   me   like   that.”   It   was   meant   to   be   a   joke   but   even   that   revealed   too   much.   She   laughed,   light   and   awkward,   and   ducked   to   hide   her   face   in   his   shoulder   for   a   moment   because   it   was   either   that   or   actually   lose   her   mind.   She   took   a   moment   to   steady   herself   before   pulling   back   just   enough   to   look   up   at   him   again,   her   eyes   shining   and   cheeks   burning,   and   gave   him   a   helpless   little   smile.  “You’re   already   ruining me...   Take   some   responsibility   will   you?”

“Just wanted to hear ya say it.” Charlie’s body swayed a little where he sat, clearly pleased with her answer, delight dancing in his expression as he looked over at her without even a flicker of hesitation. “Lucky for you, love,” he added smoothly, “I’ve got no plans to deny ya anything you want.” His voice dipped just enough to make the words feel like more than teasing. Without letting go of her hand, he lifted it between them, pressing a soft, deliberate kiss to the back of her fingers, slow, deliberate, like the moment deserved more than a joke.

When she brought up the contract, his grin kicked back into place, easy and wide. He leaned closer, their hands still laced, and gave the smallest tilt of his head, that boyish glint in his eyes returning. “Think we could make it a verbal agreement then, yeah? I’m afraid my hand’s a bit occupied at the moment... super important business.” Charlie glanced up at her through his lashes, smile soft but playful, clearly enjoying the game she was playing, and happy to meet her there.

But when she spoke about wearing her own designs, his expression shifted, that teasing smile softening into something gentler. The way she answered, hesitating and thoughtful, had him leaning in just a touch, genuinely curious now. “I’d actually really like that,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, earnest, even as the corners of his mouth still tugged upward. “If you’re comfortable, of course. I mean… sketches are one thing.. but you? Wearin’ something you made with your own hands?” His smile broke a little wider, a quiet laugh huffing out of him like he couldn’t quite believe how sincere he sounded. “That’s what I’d call art, yeah?”

He gave a small shrug, but the admiration was written all over his face as his gaze stayed locked on hers, softer than before, the flirtation not gone, but folded now into something sweeter, something real. “Fair warning though,” he added, leaning in just enough to close the space between them again, looking both ways like this was top secret information, “I’ve got a terrible habit of starin’ when I’m impressed. And somethin’ tells me I’d be absolutely ruined watchin’ you in one of your own designs.” His lips curved, eyes gleaming, but the look he gave her wasn’t just about charm, it was full of that growing ache he couldn’t quite hide anymore. Like he already knew he was in trouble with her. And maybe he liked it that way.

Celine   lifted   a   hand   to   cover   the   abrupt   laugh   escaped   her   lips   at   the   girl's   disgusted   statement.   She   slipped   the   star-shaped   glasses   onto   her   face   and   smirked   at   the   girl.   "So,   you   are   either   very   lost   or   doing   a   character   study   for   a   role,"   she   said,   giving   the   girl   a   once-over.   There   was   no   judgement   in   her   tone,   just   mild   curiosity   and   wry   amusement.   She   let   the   girl's   dramatic   revulsion   hang   there   for   a   moment   between   them   before   continuing.   "I   mean,   if   the   couches   are   haunted   and   the   air   smells   like   regret,   you   made   it   about   ten   steps   farther   than   I   would   expect."   Celine   continued   browsing   through   the   odd   collection   of   knick   knacks   on   display,   glancing   over   her   shoulder.   "Seriously   though,   what   dragged   you   in   here?   You   look   like   you're   waiting   for   a   tetanus   shot   from   just   standing   there."

magnolia  had  never  stepped  inside  a  secondhand  store  in  her  entire  life  –  until  today.  except,  the fact that it was a secondhand store had completely slipped her mind  until  she'd  spotted  a  pair  of  fake  miu  miu  sunglasses  attempting  to  pass  off  as  the  real  ones.  it  should  have  been  more  obvious  –  retro  roots,  come  on  !  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  touch  anything  inside  the  store,  fearing  the  smell  of  expired  perfume  and  bad  aura  would  cling  onto  her  and  follow  her  home.  a  voice  nearby  broke  the  unsettling  silence  and  magnolia  turned  to  spot  the  source,  eyeing  her  carefully  as  if  buying  herself  some  time  to  filter  out  her  true  thoughts.  she  had  a  habit  of  letting  her,  sometimes  unwarranted,  opinions  slip  –  no  matter  how  harsh.  one  thing  she  could  not  filter  out  were  her  reactions  as  she  continued  to  stare  with  a  look  of  repulsion.  “they  scream  ‘post-divorce  meltdown’  but  to  each  their  own  ?”  oh,  how  she  absolutely  hated  how  high-pitched  her  voice  got  at  the  end  of  that  sentence.  “in  the  literal  sense  of  the  word,  this  is  it  –  my  very  own  personal  nightmare.  this  place  feels  like  cycling  through  your  friend's  exes  or  an  unaired  episode  of  hoarders. let's not even get started on velvet couches.”

#𝐁𝐲𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞: a study in soft things