Seven Dates [Completed]

Date 4

Charlie didn't think she'd ever forget the night she just spent with Peyton. The way his groggy morning voice murmured the time, the warmth of his arms, and those sparkling eyes that looked at her like she was the only person in the world.

But now it was four o'clock, and she was giddy with anticipation to see him again. She'd straightened her wavy hair and slipped into a cute outfit—something different from her usual comfy clothes. This wasn't just a study date; this felt like something more.

She practically sprinted to the door, her heart fluttering as she flung it open.

But Peyton wasn't there.

Her smile faltered. She checked her phone, scrolling quickly through their texts.

4:00.

Peyton was never late—not for class, not for her. Closing the door, she paced her room, checking her phone obsessively. Maybe he hit traffic. Maybe his phone died. Maybe...

An hour passed.

Charlie's worry spiraled. She tried calling, but it went to voicemail. She sent a text—short and casual, trying not to seem panicked. As she waited, doubts crept in. Was he losing interest? Did she misread everything?

Then came the knock.

She rushed to the door, trying to steady her breathing. When she opened it, her heart sank.

There stood Peyton, his tousled hair messier than usual and his eyes tired, almost haunted. His flannel was tied tightly around his forearm, but blood seeped through the makeshift bandage.

"I—I shouldn't have come here," he stammered, his voice low and trembling. "I didn't know where else to go."

"Peyton, what happened?" Charlie's voice shook as she grabbed his uninjured arm and pulled him inside.

He hesitated, looking at her desk chair like it was a lifeline. She guided him to sit, while her roommate, wide-eyed and frozen, muttered something about keeping pressure on the wound.

Charlie gently untied the flannel, revealing a jagged, shallow cut. "Oh my gosh," she gasped, quickly pressing the fabric back against it. "This needs stitches. We're going to the hospital."

"I'm fine, really—" Peyton started, but she silenced him with a glare, grabbing his keys from his pocket.

"No arguments," she ordered, helping him to his feet.

In the parking lot, Charlie spotted his truck parked crookedly under a lamp post. She opened the passenger door, ignoring his weak attempt to do it himself.

"Stop being stubborn," she muttered, her worry barely hidden.

Sliding into the driver's seat, she fumbled with the keys before starting the truck. The drive to the hospital was tense. Peyton sat quietly, his jaw clenched, while Charlie's hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white.

***

The ER felt endless. As they waited for someone to see Peyton, Charlie held a clean cloth against his arm, letting him relax. He leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes fluttering shut.

"I shouldn't have come here," he murmured again, his voice strained.

"Stop saying that," Charlie said, her voice softer now. "You scared me. I'm just glad you're here."

Peyton opened his eyes and looked at her, guilt written all over his face. "I didn't want to ruin our plans."

Charlie's chest tightened. "Peyton, what happened?" she asked gently.

Before he could answer, a nurse arrived to take him back for stitches. Charlie stayed in the waiting room, pacing nervously. When he finally reappeared, the cut cleaned and stitched, she felt her breath release in relief.

Back in the truck, the heater hummed softly as Charlie sat with her hands on the wheel, waiting for an explanation.

Peyton sighed, staring at his bandaged arm. "It was stupid," he began, his voice hesitant. "I was out on my bike, trying to clear my head. I wasn't paying attention, and I ended up wiping out. A piece of metal from the guardrail caught me on the way down."

Charlie winced. "Peyton, that's not stupid. That's terrifying."

"I didn't want to worry you," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "But when I saw how bad it was, you were the first person I thought of."

Her heart softened, and she reached over, resting a hand on his. "I'm glad you came to me."

Peyton's eyes softened, his usual smirk replaced with something warmer. "You're kind of hard not to run to," he said quietly.

***

Back in her dorm, Peyton followed Charlie inside, looking worn but grateful. Her roommate was gone, as usual.

"You can have my bed tonight," Charlie said firmly, pulling a spare blanket from her closet. "You've had a rough day. You need to rest."

Peyton didn't answer right away. Instead, he stood there, watching her with an unreadable expression. When she turned around, blanket in hand, his hands slid around her waist, pulling her gently closer.

"I feel like I've been in your room a lot lately," he murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent a shiver up her spine.

Charlie swallowed, her pulse quickening as she met his gaze. "Are you complaining?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

His lips curved into a faint smile, but his eyes burned with something deeper. "Not even a little," he said, his tone heavier now, almost reverent.

Time seemed to stretch as they stood there, the air between them electric. Charlie's heart pounded in her chest as Peyton dipped his head, his forehead brushing against hers. She rose onto her tiptoes, her hands trembling slightly as they rested on his shoulders.

When his lips finally met hers, it wasn't tentative. It was firm, hungry, as though every second of hesitation before this moment had built into something neither of them could hold back any longer.

Charlie's arms wrapped tightly around his neck, pulling him down to her as if letting go would mean falling apart. Peyton's hands slid from her waist to her lower back, pressing her body flush against his. The warmth of him, the strength in his touch, made her knees weak.

The kiss deepened, their breaths mingling, and Charlie felt a fire she hadn't known existed ignite in her chest. Peyton angled his head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he kissed her with a raw intensity that made her forget everything else.

Her senses were overwhelmed—his clean, woodsy scent, the slight rasp of his stubble against her skin, the quiet sound of his breaths hitching as he held her tighter. Every nerve in her body seemed to come alive under his touch.

When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing hard, their foreheads pressed together as if the world outside their bubble didn't exist.

Peyton's lips brushed hers again, softer this time, lingering. His voice was husky, barely audible. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

Charlie smiled against his lips, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "I think I have some idea."

For a moment, they just stood there, wrapped up in each other. The blanket she'd been holding lay forgotten on the floor. Peyton brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb grazing her cheek as he looked at her with that same awe that always made her feel like the most beautiful girl in the world.

"Anything's a date as long as I'm with you," he whispered, his smile returning, this time with that familiar smirk she'd come to love.

Charlie laughed softly, pulling him by the hand toward the bed. "You need to rest. We've got plenty of time for more of this later."

As Peyton sat down, Charlie leaned in to kiss him again—just once, slow and deliberate—before stepping back. "But don't get too comfortable," she teased, her cheeks flushed. "You still owe me an actual date."

Peyton smirked, lying back against the pillows. "Deal."