Seven Dates [Completed]

The Proposal

Charlie Moore had been called plenty of things in her life—awkward, intense, even a bit of a nerd—but never beautiful. At least, not until now.

Standing in the middle of the coffee shop, with Peyton's piercing green eyes locked on hers, she felt her world tilt.

"What did you just say?" she asked, her voice just above a whisper, unsure she'd heard him right.

Peyton leaned closer, close enough that she caught the faint trace of his cologne. His smile was a mix of boyish charm and something sharper, more deliberate. "I said, Charlie, you're the most beautiful girl I know."

Her heart stuttered. Beautiful? Her?

"You must not know a lot of girls, then," she shot back, trying to sound casual. The smirk she added for good measure didn't quite match the frantic flutter in her chest.

He chuckled softly, tilting his head. "I know plenty. None of them hold a candle to you."

And just like that, he turned and walked out, leaving her standing there, completely dazed. Her bag hung off her shoulder like a dead weight, and the barista's voice jolted her back to reality.

"Charlie? Your coffee's ready."

She stumbled to the counter, grabbed her cup, and left without leaving her usual tip. The morning air hit her face as she stepped outside, her thoughts a tangled mess of confusion and giddy disbelief.

***

Her first class of the day was astronomy, and normally it was her favorite. She loved sitting in the front row, scribbling constellations in her notebook and pretending she had her life together. Today, though, she couldn't focus.

She flipped through her notes, trying to make sense of the chaos in her head. Her pen tapped against the empty coffee cup on her desk—tap, tap, tap. Her gaze darted toward the door every few seconds, waiting.

And then he walked in.

Peyton looked like he owned the room, his crooked grin the same as ever. Her pulse jumped, and she immediately dropped her eyes to her notebook, willing herself not to stare.

"Find your way here okay?" His voice was low and teasing as he slid into the seat next to her, his presence filling her space effortlessly.

"Of course," she replied, forcing her tone to match his. "Same routine, every day."

"Not quite," he said, wagging a finger at her. "Three times a week, remember? The other two days? No clue what you're up to. Could be anything."

She arched an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting you spy on me? That's a little creepy, even for you."

His smirk deepened. "You'll never know, will you?"

Before she could respond, the professor began the lecture. Peyton stayed quiet, but she felt his occasional glances like a spark of electricity on her skin. By the time class ended, she was too frazzled to make conversation.

***

The library was quiet, just the way Charlie liked it. She sat at her usual corner table, surrounded by a fortress of books and notebooks. She rubbed her eyes, exhaustion creeping in.

"Look who's here," came a familiar voice, breaking her focus.

Charlie turned to see Peyton leaning against a nearby shelf, arms crossed, the smirk she simultaneously hated and adored firmly in place.

"Not exactly a plot twist," she replied, giving him a tired but playful look, referencing their conversation from earlier..

He straightened up and gestured toward the door. "Come on, let's hit the town. You, me, and some actual fun."

"Not tonight." She shoved her books into her bag and slung it over her shoulder. "I'm tired."

He followed her to the door, undeterred. "Charlie, come on. Just give me a chance."

She stopped abruptly, spinning to face him. "A chance for what?"

"To prove I'm worth it," he said, his tone softer now. For the first time, he looked almost nervous.

Her lips parted in surprise. "Peyton, I—"

"Seven dates," he cut in, holding up seven fingers. "That's all I'm asking. Give me seven chances. After that, if you still don't like me, I'll back off. But you can't just leave me hanging."

She stared at him, her exhaustion battling with the undeniable pull she felt toward him. Finally, she managed a small smile. "Fine. Seven dates. But tonight is off the table."

His playful grin returned in full force. "Deal. Tomorrow, four o'clock. Don't be late."

"Late for what?" she called after him as he turned and walked away without answering.

She stood there for a moment, the wind tugging at her hair, unsure whether she was exasperated or exhilarated.

Maybe both.