Signe   smiled   at   the   warmth   on   the   woman’s   expression   at   the 

Signe   Holmström   had   always   been   someone   who   carefully   thought   and   planned   through   everything.   Not   that   she   was   disingenuous,   but   she  wanted   people   to   like   her.   And   so,   she   made   sure   to   always   put   forward   the   best   version   of   herself   –   the   one   that   was   nice,   and   polite,   and   charming   and   never   too   much,   too   soon.   But   being   around   Charlie,   who   was   so   transparent   and   forthcoming   with   her.   It   made   it   hard   not   to   want   to   meet   him   in   the   middle   and   be   just   as   authentic   and   unfiltered.   Her   cheeks   flush   at   his   admission,   and   she   tilted   her   head,   looking   up   at   him   like   she   couldn’t   quite   believe   he   was   real. “You’re   so   dramatic,”   she   chided,   but   there   was   a   softness   in   her   voice.   Behind   her   teasing   there   was   a   quiet   kind   of   awe   in   the   way   she   studied   him.  She   let   out   an   amused   chuckle   as   he   called   himself   flawed,   raw   affection   curling   through   her   chest.   Flaws   and   all,   she   was   really   liking   him,   although   it   felt   scary   to   say   out   loud.   He   laid   out   his   future   plans   with   that   cocky,   casual   certainty   that   made   her   laugh   again,   warm   and   bright. “Not   that   I’m   doubting   your   teaching   skills,”   she   began. “But   you’ve   never   seen   me   near   a   hot   pan.   Yet   you’re   so   sure   I’ll   survive   your   cooking   lessons.”   Signe   giggled   again,   and   added   quietly: “But   I’m   still   looking   forward   to   it.”   Charlie   pressed   a   kiss   to   her   nose   and   her   breath   caught   just   a   little.   The   absolute   tenderness   of   it   all   was   what   truly   did   her   in.   She   looked   up   at   him,   eyes   flickering   between   his   and   his   mouth   for   the   briefest   second,   and   then   smiled   shyly   and   averted   her   gaze.   His   playful   accusation   that  she   was   trouble   had   her   fighting   a   smile.   It   wasn’t   fair   at   all,   how   quickly   he   had   her   guard   down. He   was   trouble   and   she   knew   it,   but   she   found   that   she   didn’t   really   care.   As   they   walked,   she   happily   accepted   the   semla,   but   narrowed   her   eyes   at   him   in   playful   suspicion. “You’re   just   trying   to   bribe   me   for   a   good   post-date   review,” she   muttered,   taking   a   bite   anyway.   As   they   walked   alongside   each   other,   Signe   finishing   the   delicious   semla   and   their   hands   finding   one   another,   she   found   herself   glancing   around   the   the   dwindling   festivities.   The   night   had   been   everything   she’d   hoped   for   and more.   She   just   hoped   that   all   the   dates   that   followed   would   be   the   same.   Signe   leaned   in   instinctively   at   his   little   shoulder   bump   and   smile.  “Okay,   fine,” she   sighed,   as   if   the   topic   was   really   taking   its   toll   on   her. “The   ambiance   was  perfect,   the   company   was   disarmingly   charming,   and   the   date   surpassed   all   expectations.” A   beat   where   she   cast   a   sideways   glance   at   him. “But   I   do   retain   the   right   to   edit   my   review   for   at   least   24   hours   after   the   date   is   done.”   She   gave   his   hand   a   squeeze   as   they   made   it   to   her   front   door,   and   then   looked   at   him   from   under   her   lashes. “Because   everyone   knows—it’s   all   in   the   way   the   night   ends   that   really   seals   the   five-star   rating.”

Charlie huffed a breath of a laugh, the kind that buzzed low in his chest and softened something in his expression as he looked at her. "Oh, I’m sayin’ it, alright. Loud and clear. You affect me, Signe Holström." He shook his head, thumb tracing small, unconscious circles through the fabric of her dress. "I’m holdin’ it together out here, but inside?" He let out a dramatic sigh, leaning in like he was telling a secret. "Total emotional devastation. I'm a goner. Done for. It’s a miracle I’m still standin’, really."

He smiled crookedly when she called him out, that spark of playful challenge catching in his eyes. “Perfect?” he echoed, shaking his head. “Nah, love. I ain't perfect at all. I’ve got flaws stacked higher than my wine rack. But I’m tryin’, swear down.. And that’s gotta count for somethin’, right?” The sound of her giggles as he scooped her up made his grin stretch wider, cheek pressed to her temple for a second, "Oi! I may not have been selfie-ready, but don’t think for a second I haven’t got our next few dates locked and loaded. I got it all planned out, Signe." He spoke, voice low, just for them, "Dinner. Movie. Me teachin’ you how not to burn garlic. You causin’ chaos in my kitchen."

Her whispered 'Yes, Chef' had his breath catching, low and rough like it had been punched right from his lungs. He murmured, shaking his head, eyes dark as they settled on hers, "You-.. are trouble, innit? You’re doin’ that on purpose.. Really tryin' to make me come undone here, ain't ya?" He smirked, "Whatever you want.. but that's for next time."

He reined himself in, the heat in his chest grounding as he looked around at the quieting party. Families packing up, the fire pit flickering low. Charlie dipped to press a kiss to the tip of her nose, the gesture far too gentle for someone who had just been threatening to fall apart entirely. "C'mon, love. Let's get you home before the chill sets in." As she helped him pack up their things, Charlie grabbed the last semla like a prize, handing it to her and then reached for her other hand as they walked along the sand. Fingers laced, warm and sure.

"You enjoy yourself tonight?" Charlie glanced over with a grin, bumping her shoulder with his. "Because now’s the part where I conduct your post-date interview. Very official stuff, you know. For quality assurance purposes... don't deny the people what they deserve, Signe."

Havana Rose Liu 🤍

“I’m   not   a   particularly   picky   eater,   so   you   can   just   make   me   your   specialty,”  she   said   with   a   shrug   and   a   smile.   The   smile   couldn’t   help   but   widen   at   his   enthusiasm   about   guessing   the   origin   of   her   accent   so   closely.   Signe   brightened   as   he   shared   that   he’d   spent   time   in   Denmark.  “My   dad’s   from   Denmark,   so   I   spent   a   lot   of   summers   visiting   relatives.   I’m   glad   you   enjoyed   it!   You’ll   have   to   show   me   what   you   learned   while   you   were   there.”   She   walked   beside   him   in   silence,   letting   his   voice   fill   the   space   between   them.   She   was   surprised   that   he   had   chosen   to   share   such   a   detailed   version   of   events   with   her.   A   heavy   weight   sat   on   her   heart   –   not   bad   just…real.   Charlie’s   deciding   ( whether   he   realized   it   or   not )   that   she   was   worth   trusting   with   the   details   of   his   story   meant   more   than   she’d   expected   it   to.   Signe   took   that   show   of   trust   quite   seriously.   She   glanced   over   at   him,   and   watched   the   way   his   eyes   lingered   on   a   new   painting   like   he   was   still   halfway   somewhere   else.   She   could   picture   that   little   boy   in   her   mind   –   bright-eyed,   heart   pounding   in   his   chest   as   he   imagined   what   it   would   be   like   to   have   a   stadium   roaring   for   you.   And   she   could   see   the   man   now,   who   had   pivot   on   his   dream   and   carry   on.   It   agonized   her,   the   thought   of   not   being   able   to   follow   your   passion   and   see   it   all   the   way   through   –   even   if   you   were   destined   to   fail.   To   be   denied   the   opportunity   to  try  would   have   been   the   most   infuriating   of   all.   “You   weren’t   running,”   she   said,   her   voice   soft   but   fierce,   almost   defensive   on   his   behalf.   She   grabbed   his   forearm   and   met   his   gaze   to   make   sure   he   heard   her   next   words.   “You   were.  healing.   It   takes   great   courage   to   find   a   new   dream   like   you   did.   I   don’t   think   I   would   be   able   to   do   that.”   Signe   offered   what   she   hoped   was   a   sympathetic   smile   and   squeezed   his   arm   in   support.  “And   for   what   it’s   worth.   I’m   glad   you   found   your   way   here.”

"Yeah?" He licked his lips in an attempt to keep his smile down, "You let me know what to make for ya, and I'll get the photos out." Charlie's eyes met hers for a brief moment, "As long as you're gentle, I'll be mint." His hands clap together quickly as he learns he guessed well. "I knew it! It's the way ya sing your words." He can't contain his smile as she gives him a small glimpse into her past, "I've been to Denmark before. Studied with a mate at Noma in Copenhagen for a bit before I kept travelin'. I learned a lot there. I was buzzin'. In me element, swear down. I loved it." His eyes glanced around them, but he found himself being drawn back to her each time.

"I get it, what you mean by warm.. I feel the same way." He pauses to think for a moment as he listens to their footsteps, not used to letting people in this quickly. "So when I were a kid, yeah? We lived in a council estate. Rough area, makin' ends meet as much as we could. It were just me and mum. I'd go to school, come home, do me school work, and then I'd cook dinner and clean up around the house while mum was workin'. One year, she tells me she's saved enough to take me to a Man City game for my eighth birthday. At the game she'd said somethin' about watchin' me practice in the yard in the late hours and how she'd been savin' more and she'd signed me up for a footy team." He smiles fondly to himself, "I watched that game and told her I were gonna work hard, just like her, and pay her back. And she told me just to have fun.. So I did. And I was good. I was better than good. By the time I were thirteen, I was havin' scouts come around. I signed to Man City's youth team at fifteen." Charlie stops talking for a moment, looking over at a painting that caught his eye and stopping to take it in.

He finally looks back over at Signe, a sad smile resting on his lips, "I had it all planned out, yeah? My entire life, right there. Everythin' I'd worked for and told my mum I was doin' for us were in the palm of me hand." He chuckles half heartedly, "Well, I sign, right? Make my way out of EDS, which means this is it. Big leagues. Premier league. Two weeks before my startin game I got hurt. Like.. Career endin' injury. And that was it. Had to start over just like that. Back to square one." Charlie brings his eyes back to the painting that had stopped him, "Cooking was the last thing I could remember enjoying before football. It was the only thing that made sense. And it felt like studyin' all over was the best excuse for gettin' out of my town. That way I wouldn't look like I was runnin'."

A   small   smile   ghosted   across   her   lips   at   the   mental   image   he   painted.   “That   could   be   fun,”   she   said   with   a   slight   nod.   Her   fingers   fiddled   with   the   hem   of   her   sleeve   as   she   continued,   daring   to   playfully   tease   him.  “Football   fashion   disasters?   No   promises   I   won’t   laugh,   but   I   will   try   to   be   gentle.”   His   question   about   her   accent   surprised   her,   her   eyebrows   raising   slightly   as   his   guess   landed   rather   close.  “Good   ear!   I’m   Swedish   –   I   was   born   in   Malmö, just across the bridge  to   Denmark.”   No   matter   how   long   it   had   been   since   she’d   lived   in   that   beautiful   coastal   city,   it   would   always   be   home   in   her   heart.   The   place   where   her   parents’   love   story   truly   began.  “We   moved   here   when   I   was   fourteen.   Palmview   was…an   adjustment.”   She   let   out   a   short,   abrupt   laugh   –   almost   as   if   the   sound   escaped   her   before   she   could   fight   it.  “Well,   I   understand   you   just   fine.   No   subtitles   needed…yet   anyway.”   He   fell   into   step   beside   her,   and   his   nearness   was   noticeable   but   not   unwelcome.   Signe’s   gaze   dropped   for   a   moment   before   drifting   back   to   the   art   along   the   hall.   Her   hands   were   loosely   folded   in   front   of   her   as   they   walked.     “Fashion,”   she   echoed   with   a   nod.  “I   want   to…I   mean,   I think   I’d   like   to   have   my   own   line   one   day.   My   interests   are   all   over   the   place,   but   I   just   want   to   make   clothes   that   make   people   feel…warm–”  she   stopped   and   glanced   back   at   Charlie.   “I   mean,   not literally.   I   don’t   want   to   make   people   overheat,   I   just..  My   style   is   more   nostalgic,   like   a   happy   memory.”  Signe   felt   her   cheeks   heat,   and   her   words   slowed,   as   if   she   was   measuring   each   one.  “It   probably   sounds   silly.   But,   what   about   you?   Why   cooking?”

Charlie's eyes scanned Signe's face as she spoke about her fashion design. He nodded slowly along with her words, "No pressure. You don't have to show me." Charlie could almost see the way she'd changed her mind, "Well, I'd love that when you decide you're comfortable. I can show ya the things I used to wear as a footballer.. Maybe I'll make ya dinner and you can laugh at my poor fashion choices and I'll get tips from your mood boards" A laugh slipped easily from his lips, "Fashion at the time-.. No judgements, swear down. It was bad."

His eyebrows had scrunched together in curiosity, "Mind me askin' where you're from? I can hear the Scandinavian there, but can't place it." He shoved his hands into his pockets, his blue eyes locked on her. "Thanks for not judgin'. I've had people say I need subtitles." He joked playfully with a shake of his head.

Waiting for her response to his offer, Charlie shifted on his feet. He glanced back over at the painting they'd originally been looking over when she'd answered. She spoke so softly, he'd had to turn back and read her face to ensure she'd said yes. "Well.. Shall we?"

He'd taken a small step back to end up beside her, his hand hovering behind her back to begin their stroll. "So fashion, yeah?" His eyes scanned all the art around them as they walked together, "You got plans to have your own line? What's your dream?"

Signe   bit   her   bottom   lip,   fighting   a   smile   as   Charlie   painted   a   picture   of   his   past   self.  “Don’t   you   worry,   Charlie   Hughes,”   she   murmured,   tilting   her   head   up   to   look   as   him   with   mock   irritation.  “I   absolutely   believe   you   were   a   menace.   All   the   proof   I   need   is   glittering   right   there   in   those   eyes   of   yours.”   She   pointed   an   accusing   finger   at   him   before   letting   her   fingers   brush   his   side   in   a   teasing,   fond   gesture.   Charlie   leaned   closer,   and   Signe   giggled,   her   cheeks   flushing   pleasantly.  “I mildly   enjoy   your   presence   under   very   specific   circumstances.”

 Her   face   softened   as   he   asked   for   her   interpretation   of   her   sexuality   and   the   label   that   she   chose.   She   gave   him   a   gentle   smile   and   nodded,   her   fingertips   tracing   absent-mindedly   along   his   arm   as   they   swayed.  “For   me,   it’s   not   so   much   about   how   someone  looks   although   I   won’t   say   it   has   no   part.   It’s   more   about   the   way   someone   makes   me  feel,   how   their   mind   works,   how   they   move   through   the   world.”   Signe’s   voice   was   sure,   but   thoughtful,   like   she   was   still   discovering   her   own   definition   as   she   spoke.  “I’ve   been   equally   attracted   to   softness   and   sharpness,   masculinity,   femininity,   androgyny…”  She   shrugged   her   shoulders   as   her   words   trailed   off,   a   slow   smile   forming   on   her   lips.   “It’s   like   art.”

 His   hands   came   up   to   cradle   her   face   and   Signe’s   eyes   searched   his.   “Yeah,   tell   me   about   it…   if   I   had   known   the   Florida   humidity   was   a   part   of   the   self-discovery   package,   with  this   hair?   I   would’ve   asked   to   stay   in   Sweden,”  she   joked.   But   then   she   gently   wrapped   her   hands   around   his   wrists,   grounding   herself   in   the   moment.   The   teasing   in   her   voice   faded   a   touch.  “It  was   hard, being   a   teenager   in   a   place   where   I   already   felt   like   I   stuck   out   didn’t   really   help   with   figuring   any   of   that   out.   But   it   all   made   me,   me,   right?   I   think   the   journey   was   worth   it.”   She   licked   her   lips,   a   bit   of   nervous   energy   at   being   so   honest,   so   soon.   Charlie   made   her   feel safe,   made   her   share   too   much   too   soon,   but   he   didn’t   seem   to   shy   away   from   any   of   that. You’re   safe   with   me.   Always. 

 She   listened   closely,   hearing   the   words   he didn’t   say   as   he   gave   her   a   peek   into   what   his   adolescence   was   like.  “I   get   that.   The   whole…being   shaped   by   expectations   thing.   It’s   exhausting.   Spending   years   unlearning   versions   of   yourself   that   other   people   wrote   for   you   before   you   even   had   a   chance   to   hold   the   damn   pen.”   Her   thumbs   stroked   the   back   of   his   hand,   lifting   it   to   press   a   gentle   kiss   to   the   inside   of   his   wrist.  “I   think   it   says   a   lot   that   you did   unlearn   it,   though.   A   lot   of   people   never   even   try.”   Signe   tilted   her   head   and   offered   him   a   half-smile.  “And   for   what   it’s   worth   …   I’m   pretty   glad   I   met   this   version   of   you.” 

 His   lips   brushing   against   her   head   made   her   eyes   flutter   shut   for   a   moment,   butterflies   swarming   in   her   belly.   She   didn’t   answer   his   question   right   away.   She   instead   took   a   steadying   breath   and   prepared   herself   to   say   things   she   didn’t   usually   say   aloud.   Then,   her   voice   barely   above   a   whispered,   eyes   focusing   on   the   buttons   of   his   shirt.  “I’m   afraid   that   I’ll   do   all   this   self-exploration   and   discovery   only   for   it   to   still   not   be   enough.   Not   for   my   parents   –   God   knows   they   would   never   set   out   to   make   me   feel   like   that   but   –   for   myself.   That   no   matter   how   much   I   do,   I   won’t   think   it’s   enough   for   the   love   I’ve   been   given.”   

Her   fingers   curled   gently   into   the   fabric   of   his   shirt   as   if   it   were   an   anchor.   “I’m   afraid   that   those   feelings   will   chase   away   something   good   because   who   wants   to   deal   with   someone   who   second-guesses   themselves   so   often?”   The   final   words   came   out   as   a   whisper   as   if   she   was   still   too   scared   to   say   them   any   louder.   Signe   finally   looked   up   at   him   then,   her   eyes   wide,   shining   and   vulnerable.  “So…that’s   what   I’m   scared   of.”

"You think I’m insufferable now?" Charlie grinned, eyes glittering with mischief. "You should’ve seen me back then. I were a huge menace. My mates would back me up on that. I could ring any of 'em up right now and they'll tell you I were a proper little shit. Marketable, quick on the field, but absolutely relentless to be around. Especially for my mum." He leaned in a bit, voice lowering just enough to tease. "But you think I still get away with it, don’t you?" His smile curled, playfully cocky. "Oh, so you proper like me."

The teasing faded into something quieter as he listened to her. Charlie’s expression softened, and his fingers traced gentle circles at her back. "Can I ask what pansexual means for you?" He asked gently, not wanting to prod, just trying to understand her a little better. "I’m still learnin’, yeah? Like, I get the idea.. but I’d rather hear how it feels from you." He gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. "Movin’ halfway across the world on top of that, tryin’ to figure yourself out in the middle of it all… Shit, puberty in a foreign country, that really sounds rough. I'm glad it led you to here, though.." He paused, lifting both hands to her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks, "Thank you for tellin' me that, yeah? For trustin' me enough with that personal information. I know it’s not easy, but you’re safe with me, alright? Always. Means a fuckin' lot. Genuinely."

He smiled down at her with a laugh as she pictured him as a tween. "You have no idea. I was gettin' myself into all kinds of trouble. Granddad really put that movie in the wrong hands. Led to many-a-confrontations." He shook his head, she hadn't known the half of it. On top of his new obsession with the mob, Charlie was also going through a period of getting really good at football and getting really angry with his father. Defenses grew quickly; sarcasm and goofing off becoming an easy deflection. He hadn't fully realized just how much work he'd put into changing who he used to be until he was here, thinking back with a girl who would've never given him the time of day if she had known him then. "Took me years to unlearn all the shit that got built around me.. being told who I’m supposed to be before I ever had a say."

His voice dropped as he kissed the crown of her head, holding her for a beat before whispering, "Signe, what are you still afraid of?" The question wasn’t casual. It was quiet, weighty, like he was asking her to hand him something delicate, and he was ready to hold it with both hands. His blue eyes stayed fixed on her, waiting.

If   she   were   being   honest,   the   last   bit   of   the   movie   she   spent   more   time   observing   Charlie   than   the   film.   She   thought   since   she'd   seen   it   more   times   than   she   could   count   that   she   could   be   forgiven   for   the   trespass.   Signe   watched   as   Charlie's   body   language   just   told   her   the   movie   was   really   bringing   up   some   possibly   unaddressed   emotions.   She   said   nothing,   choosing   to   squeeze   his   hand   instead.   The   ending,   as   always,   had   her   eyes   lining   with   tears   that   did   not   fall   and   a   small,   smile   on   her   lips.   She   accepted   the   tissues   from   him   and   nuzzled   her   face   into   his   arm   in   a   show   of   comfort.   At   Charlie's   question,   she   pondered   for   a   moment,   letting   the   credits   scroll   for   another   moment,   her   cheek   pressed   against   his   shoulder   as   she   did   so.   Then,   she   turned   to   him   and   at   their   joined   hands,   fidgeting   with   his   fingers. "It   is   honest,"   she   murmured.   "It's   so   vulnerable   it   kinda   makes   your   chest   ache,   doesn't   it?"   Her   green   eyes   flicked   over   his   face,   studied   his   glassy   eye   and   the   little   crease   in   his   brow.   It   made   her   want   to   cup   his   face   and   kiss   the   worry   lines   away.   "I   think   they   find   themselves   first.   Become   who   they're   meant   to   be   and   then   find   each   other   again."   Signe   swallowed,   her   own   throat   feeling   tight,   and   dabbed   her   eyes   with   the   tissues   Charlie   had   offered   her   earlier.   His   thumb   swept   across   her   knuckles   and   she   smiled   softly.   "I   don't   know   if   this   is   my   boldest   stroke,"   she   began   quietly.   Signe   snuck   a   glance   at   him,   memorizing   his   features   in   this   moment.   "But   I   just   wanted   to   say...I'm   really   glad   you're   here,   Charlie.   Not   just—"   she   waved   a   hand   around   them   dismissively.   "—here   on   the   couch,   but   here.   With   me." The   quiet   confession   seemed   almost   too   loud   and   Signe   could   hear   her   heart   thudding   in   her   chest.   She   leaned   forward   and   kiss   him,   slow   and   sure   and   grateful.   The   gesture   almost   a   thank   you   for   the   way   he'd   watched   her   favorite   movie   and   made   her   feel   seen   and   understood.   It   was   absolutely   maddening.   When   she   finally   pulled   back,   Signe   offered   him   a   teasing   smile.   "The   Godfather   has   it's   own   place   in   cinema   history,   don't   you   thinkI   It's   own   messages   and   themes   to   grapple   with,"   she   paused   for   dramatic   effect   before   adding.   "Like   the   importance   of   family,   loyalty…   and   never   trusting   anyone   who   puts   ketchup   on   their   pasta."

By the time Paul was coming to the realization, hurling those words at Ellie, Charlie was on the edge of his seat, leaning forward on the couch, forearms braced on his knees, hands knotted together in front of him. He inhaled sharply, lips parting slightly at the sound of it, the blunt violence in Paul’s voice cutting through the soft hum of the room. The scene twisted something inside him. Memories crept in, uninvited of an old mate from school, someone he got too close to once, who smiled at him in a way that made everything confusing and wonderful. His friend's mum had walked in on them, too near, too comfortable, and that was it. Days of avoidance and one stern talk later, and suddenly he was told they weren’t allowed to be friends anymore. It had never even had a name. He blinked hard and leaned back slowly, wiping a hand across his mouth as if that would settle the shake in his chest. "Fucked up," he muttered. "She did so much for the guy." Beside him, Signe didn’t say anything, just quietly reached for his hand under the blanket again. This time, he squeezed back.

Charlie's heart nearly dropped out of his chest as the film edged toward its closing, going still again. His breath caught during the painting metaphor, 'Maybe if you never make the bold stroke, you’ll never know if you could’ve had a great painting.' It hit different now. With Signe pressed into his side, with her warmth grounding him, he felt that line down to the bone. 'Is this really the boldest stroke you could make'. He swallowed down on the large lump in his chest as Ellie spoke to her father, those moments of silent cooking together drawing his mind to his mum. He missed home, he missed his friends, he missed her. But he wasn't sad about it. It felt right. And then came the train station. Ellie’s quiet 'I’ll see you in a couple years'. Paul running alongside the train. Ellie laughing through the tears.

Charlie sat in silence for a long moment, eyes glassy and locked on the screen. The first tear slipped free before he even realized. He laughed softly as he swiped at it. "Shit, love. You weren’t jokin’." His voice cracked with the words, a disbelieving sort of fondness in it as he reached for the box of tissues on the table. He passed one to her first, then grabbed a few for himself, blinking fast as the credits rolled. "Proper hit me, that one." His voice softened as he turned toward her, eyes still wet but shining. "You think they find each other again?" Charlie’s eyes lingered on hers a beat too long. His thumb brushed hers again. "Don’t think I’ve ever seen somethin’ that honest," he said, almost like a confession. "Definitely nothin' like The Godfather, yeah?" He leaned in, pressing a soft and delicate kiss to her lips, voice dipping sincerely. "Thank you for sharin' that."

Signe   let   out   a   soft,   relieved   laugh,   handing   over   the   tangled   mess   of   her   bracelet   across   the   table   toward   the   girl   without   hesitation.  “Thank God,”  she   muttered   under   her   breath,   offering   the   other   a   sheepish   smile.  “Thank you   truly.   I   was   literally   just   two   seconds   away   from   tying   a   note   and   pretending   it   was   supposed   to   look   like   that.”    Signe   leaned   her   elbow   on   the   table   and   rested   her   chin   on   her   hand   as   she   watched   the   girl   tackle   what   she   viewed   as   the   gargantuan   task   of   untangling   her   bracelet.  “It   really   didn’t   look   that   complicated   from   the   tutorial.”

Though Georgia usually works with wire or chains, she isn't unfamiliar with the old art of friendship bracelets. She'd made many in her time, not very often for anyone in particular, but a young Georgia could at least pretend someone else had the other half if she wore hers proudly on her wrist. She hadn't actually intended to come over to the station, but the call had eventually gotten too much to resist, especially with her friends busy socialising with people Georgia doesn't and has no interest in knowing. It'd been nice at first, to have a moment to herself amongst the chaos of an otherwise heated party, but a voice beside her crying out for her help isn't unwelcome either. "No, no. Give it here; let me have a crack at it." She insists, already carefully laying hers down flat in front of her. "It comes with practice, like the first few times you'll have braided your hair and it all got tangled."

[ … ] ❀ you’re not from around here , are you? i figured because you totally just missed { OPHELIA JANE YOUNG  } walking by. don’t tell me you don’t know who { SHE } is ? they kind of look like { SOPHIE COOKSON } and i could be wrong but i think that they might be { 31 } years old right now. they’ve been living in palmview for the last { 10 YEARS }. and i don’t know if anyone has ever told them this before but they kind of remind me of { DAISY JONES } from { DAISY JONES AND THE SIX }. if you stick around the town long enough you might catch them in action working at { MANGO BAY RECORD STORE } as a { SALES CLERK }. you see this town isn’t really that big of a place, some folks like to call them the { THE MISFIT } of palmview! they took a liking to the name too after a while, go figure. oh crap, they must have heard me yapping. they’re coming this way. i got to warn you though, rumor has it they can pretty { CYNICAL } at times. i wouldn’t take it too seriously though, from the times i’ve spoken to them they seemed pretty { PASSIONATE } to me. we see each other all the time since they live in that { 2 BEDROOM } apartment beside me over in { CORAL COVE }. i better leave you to it. it was nice meeting you!  { KRYS. 32. SHE/HER. EST. }

𝓲. 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚜

name: ophelia jane young nickname(s): lia age: thirty1 birthday: 15 july 1993 gender/pronouns: cis woman + she/her sexuality: pansexual occupation: sales clerk at mango bay record store residence: harborview residences #4C time in palmview: 10 years

𝓲𝓲. 𝚝𝚕𝚍𝚛

ophelia jane young grew up just outside of chicago, raised by her steady, loving father after her free-spirited mother walked out when she was five. the emotional void left by her mother shaped much of her early life, as did the bullying she endured throughout school for her eccentric style and quiet nature. she found solace in music, which became both her refuge and her voice. after thriving in college in new york ( and falling in and out of her first real love ) ophelia fled heartbreak by relocating to palmview, florida. she works at the mango bay record store and plays local gigs, still chasing the dream she's nurtured since childhood, but increasingly uncertain about what comes next.

full bio here.

𝓲𝓲𝓲. 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

🎸 open mic confidant – a fellow local musician she regularly shares sets and cigarettes with—someone who truly gets the grind 🎸 the one that got away – a former love from her nyc days who shows up in palmview unexpectedly, reigniting unresolved feelings 🎸 coworker turned co-dreamer – someone at the record store who challenges her creative stagnation and pushes her toward risk 🎸 the muse – someone who sees something in ophelia she can’t yet see in herself; either a new crush or an infuriatingly inspiring friend 🎸 the skeptic – someone who questions her choices, unintentionally forcing her to define what she actually wants 🎸 musical collaborator – a person she starts writing or performing with, whose energy shifts how she approaches her own art 🎸 ghost of a past life – a figure from college or childhood who shows up just as she’s trying to move forward, complicating everything 🎸 neighbors 🎸 roommate 🎸 former crushes/flings/exes 🎸 current crushes 🎸 college friends 🎸 work friends/coworkers 🎸 i'm up for anything!! just DM me!

Signe   laughed,   shaking   her   head.   “Okay,   Goldilocks,   don’t   worry,” she   quipped,   grinning   at   her   friend.   “I do   listen   ot   you,   sometimes.   As   long   as   you’re   not   trying   to   get   me   arrested.”   But   Adri’s   tone   shifted   and   her   heart   swelled   at   it.   This   was   the   reason   Adriana   was   her   closest   friend.   She   was   a   whirlwind   of   chaos   and   mischief,   but   at   the   heart   of   it   all   burned   that   fierce   loyalty.   She   was   that   same   cool,   older   girl   that   had   taken   her   under   her   wing   and   helped   her   gain   her   confidence.   She   thought   once   Adriana   graduated,   that   would   be   the   end   of   their   friendship,   but   she’d   kept   in   contact.   Visited   frequently.   had   sleepovers,   weekly   check-ins.   Watching   in   awe   and   panic   as   the   older   girl   would   sneak   in   and   out   of   windows   with   a   chaotic   grin   and   wink.   And   so   that’s   how   they’d   spent   the   last   decade.  “I   don’t   know   if   there is a   catch,   yet.   Like   I   told   you,   I   keep   waiting   for   the   other   shoe   to   drop,”   Signe   admitted   softly,   her   cheeks   still   flushed   from   her   confessions.   “He’s   surprisingly   gentle   with   me.   Everything   gets   kind   of   fuzzy   when   I’m   around   him.”   It   was   true.   Probably   her   biggest   anxiety   over   whatever   she   had   going   on   with   Charlie   was   that   it   was so   easy   to   fall   for   him.   She   was   moving   so   fast   and   bouncing   all   over   the   steps   she’d   outlined   in   her   mind   as   a   girl.   And   it   was   even   more   terrifying   how,   when   she   was   around   him,   she   didn’t   really   care   about   any   of   that.   She   just   lucked   seeing   him   smile   that   gleeful   boyish   grin.   “But   if   he  does   turn   out   to   be   a   total   trash   monster   in   disguise,   you’ll   be   my   first   phone   call.”

"Excuse me!" Adriana gasped, a hand dropping to the table with a smack. "I am the perfect amount, thank you very much. Not too much, not too little, just right.." She leaned forward on her forearms, eyes sparkling with amusement as she tilted her head toward Signe. "And yes, good. You should listen to me more often. I’ve only got a decade of questionable decisions to back it up."

There was something about watching Signe now, her flushed cheeks, the barely contained grin, the glow of someone falling fast. Something about seeing her like this tugged at Adriana’s heart. She remembered a younger Signe so vividly. All wide eyes and hushed warnings while Adriana climbed out windows with a wink. And now she was blooming. Rule-breaking in her own way. It was an amazement to witness.

Adriana laughed softly, nudging Signe with her elbow. "Okay, this is all very cute. Like, dangerously sweet, I might actually throw up. You’ve got that dreamy look, and I love that for you.. but," She lifted a brow, voice dipping just enough to anchor the teasing with something real, "What’s the catch? The flaw?" She paused. "Because you know I love that you’re in this, but I’m not above fighting someone if they mess it up. I’ve been slacking on kickboxing lately," She flashed a smile, warm and deadly, "and I really need a reason to get back in shape."

Signe   couldn’t   help   the   way   her   smile   widened,   teeth   catching   on   her   lower   lip   as   she   fought   down   the   almost   reckless   urge   to   close   the   distance   between   them   when   he   leaned   in   like   that.   Her   heart   gave   a   traitorous   flutter   when   his   voice   dipped,   and   she   felt   the   warmth   of   his   breath   against   her   ear.   Signe   felt   the   shiver   that   trailed   down   her   spine   that   had   nothing   to   do   with   the   cool   night   air.   He   was   so  dangerous   like   this.   The   lights,   the   noise   of   the   party,   and   all   the   people   around   them   all   seemed   to   fade   until   it   was   just   him.   That   maddening,   magnetic   boy   smiling   at   her   like   he   already   knew   exactly   what   he   was   doing   to   her.   Her   cheeks   flushed,   but   she   couldn’t   help   wanting   to   meet   his   playful   challenge.  “And   what   if   I   do?”   Signe   asked,   a   teasing   glint   flickering   in   her   eyes.  “Just   meet   me   for   coffee,   Charlie.   Would   you   really   deny   me   the   simple   pleasures   in   life?”  When   he   grinned   at   the   idea   of   another   date,   Signe   laughed   softly,   shaking   her   head   in   amusement.  “I   guess   you   are,”   she   mused,   laughing   again   as   he   pretended   to   scramble   for   a   pen.  “I   could   even   draft   that   NDA   for   you,   if   you   want.”   Her   teasing   softened   as   he   stroked   the   back   of   her   hand,   and   when   he   asked   if   she   ever   wore   the   things   she   made.   The   question   had   been   unexpected   enough   that   she   went   quiet   for   a   moment.   “I   do,”   she   said   after   a   beat.  “Not   always.   I’m   usually   designing   with   someone   else   in   mind,   but   I   do   make   things   for   myself   from   time   to   time.”   Her   gaze   lifted   to   meet   his   and   she   smiled,   sweetly   and   almost too   innocently.  “Why?   Do   you   want   to   see   me   in   one   of   my   designs?”

“You won’t run with me to see the sunrise, but you’ll meet me after?” Charlie’s head tilted, his grin lazy as he gave her a once-over, eyes gleaming. “I’m startin’ to think you just want an excuse to catch me sweaty, Signe.” He gave a soft shake of his head, hair tossing slightly as he leaned back on one hand, all easy confidence. “Lucky for you, I do have a weakness for a good croissant after a run. Maybe some coffee… beautiful company.” His gaze drifted to meet hers again, lingering there on purpose, eyes dramatically fluttering towards her.

But then she threw that line at him, the edge of challenge in her tone, and it hit him right where she knew it would. His brows shot up, the corners of his mouth curving as heat rushed into his cheeks. Two could play at that game. Charlie’s tongue darted out across his lower lip before his teeth caught it briefly, tamping down the grin that threatened to give him away. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in toward her, voice dropping low, “Don’t tempt me, love,” he murmured, his lips just barely brushing the shell of her ear. “I’m really tryin’ to do this the right way.” He lingered there for a beat longer than he should have, before easing back, slow and deliberate, like peeling himself away was its own kind of effort. His eyes met hers again, a spark flickering behind the teasing smile that pulled at the edge of his mouth.

“I did mention I’ve got a cocky streak, yeah? I did say I don't like to lose..” He gave a small shrug, grin still playing at his lips. “You go throwin’ around questions like if I’m a man of many talents… well, you’re practically askin’ me to brag.” But despite the bravado, there was something softer under the surface, a quiet honesty, a glint of the person he used to be and the man he’s been working hard to become. When her gaze stayed on him, focused, studying, like she was cataloging every detail of his face, Charlie felt his chest go tight for just a second. His brow, the one with the slit, lifted slightly as he leaned into the weight of her attention.

He didn’t look away. Instead, he nodded once, sure and steady when she'd questioned their expertise. When she'd brought up the idea of that next date, of mood boards and NDAs, a wide smile broke across his face, bright and boyish. “So I am gettin’ another date…” He gave an exaggerated glance around, patting at his pockets. “Anyone got a pen on ‘em? I should probably get started on that NDA, yeah?” His eyes softened as they met hers again, humor still there, but warmth blooming underneath it. “Gotta protect your trade secrets, don’t want the whole town knowin’ you’ve got a soft spot for blokes in bad designer prints.” He gave her hand one more gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing slowly along the back of her hand, the playful tone softening as he added, "You ever wear the items you make?"