Seven Dates [Completed]

Date 5

Finally, a day with no classes and endless possibilities.

Charlie woke up early, warmth radiating from the arm draped around her waist. She hadn't planned to share her bed, but Peyton had insisted, pulling her close until she'd fallen asleep in his arms. Now, in the dim light of the morning, she found herself tucked against him, his even breaths ruffling her hair.

As much as she hated to leave his embrace, she carefully slid out of bed, doing her best not to disturb him. Peyton stirred slightly but didn't wake.

Grabbing fresh clothes, Charlie slipped into the bathroom to shower. The hot water cleared her thoughts, grounding her in the surprising reality of the past few days. She was falling for him—hard. And that terrified her.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, Peyton was awake, sitting up against the wall with his hair a tousled mess and a lazy grin spreading across his face.

"How'd you sleep?" Charlie asked, tossing her old clothes into the laundry bin.

"Mmm, good," Peyton murmured, stretching his sore arm. "Guess what today is?"

"What?" Charlie asked, matching his playful tone.

"All-day date."

Charlie had tried to convince him to rest, even suggesting he stay in her bed for the day, but Peyton refused. He promised to return after heading home to shower and change.

As he left, she sat on her bed, feeling an excited nervousness bloom in her chest. She dried her hair, carefully applied makeup, and slipped into her favorite outfit—something simple yet flattering.

When Peyton returned, freshly showered and wearing clean clothes, Charlie couldn't help but notice how the fall air gave his cheeks a rosy tint. His injured arm was hidden beneath his jacket, but his confident smile reassured her.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Always," she replied, shutting the door behind her.

***

The day was filled with unexpected delights.

At breakfast, Peyton stole bites of Charlie's bacon, grinning mischievously as she retaliated by taking pieces of his pancake.

Later, they hit the road, driving through the countryside with no clear destination in mind. Peyton's hand rested in hers, his thumb idly tracing circles on her palm.

"Where are we going?" Charlie asked, curiosity tingling in her voice.

Peyton smirked, his eyes never leaving the road. "There are so many places I want to take you. Canada, Venice, Paris. But right now..." He gave her hand a light squeeze. "I called in a favor."

Hours passed as they sang along to songs and stopped to marvel at small roadside shops and sprawling autumn landscapes. The truck's cabin was filled with laughter, snacks, and occasional stolen glances that made Charlie's heart race.

By the time the sun began to set, they arrived at their destination—a quiet park on the outskirts of town. Peyton parked the truck and stepped out, walking to the front of the vehicle to hold out his hand.

Charlie hesitated, her breath catching as she took his hand and followed him.

When they rounded the corner, her heart skipped a beat.

String lights twinkled in the trees surrounding a beautifully lit gazebo. A winding path of flowers framed the space, and everything seemed to glow softly in the fading light.

"Peyton..." she whispered, her voice full of awe.

He led her into the gazebo, setting his phone on a small speaker and pressing play.

The gentle strumming of a guitar filled the air, followed by the familiar lyrics of Three Little Birds.

Charlie laughed, her cheeks warming as Peyton took her hand and spun her around. He mouthed the words to the song, his grin infectious. They danced clumsily, laughing as they stumbled over each other's feet, but neither of them cared.

When the next song started, Peyton pulled her close, wrapping his arms securely around her waist. The world around them disappeared as they swayed in time with the music, their bodies pressed together.

Charlie's heart pounded as he leaned in, his lips brushing hers softly at first, testing. She responded instinctively, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as the kiss deepened.

There was nothing tentative about the way he kissed her now—his lips moved with urgency and care, as if pouring every unspoken word and emotion into that moment. The heat between them was undeniable, and Charlie felt herself melt into his arms, her knees barely holding her steady.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, Peyton pressed his forehead to hers, his hands cradling her face as if she were something fragile and precious.

"Charlie..." he began, his voice a husky whisper.

But the intensity of the moment caught up with her. The raw emotion in his gaze, the overwhelming warmth in her chest—it was too much.

Her smile faltered, and she stepped back, her hands lingering on his chest.

"Are you okay?" Peyton asked, his thumb brushing gently over her cheek.

"I—" Charlie's voice cracked as a lump formed in her throat. "This was wonderful. It's just... I'm tired."

He didn't push, didn't demand an explanation. Instead, he nodded, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "Let's get you home."

***

In the truck, Charlie sat in silence, her head leaning against the cold glass of the window. Peyton glanced at her occasionally, his concern clear, but he didn't push her to talk.

Her thoughts churned, turbulent and relentless.

She wanted so badly to let herself fall for him, to trust that this feeling—this thing between them—was as real and steady as he made it seem. But the past whispered warnings in her ear, old wounds reminding her what it felt like to be vulnerable and then left to pick up the pieces when things fell apart.

What if this is too good to be true? she wondered, the question gnawing at the edges of her mind. Peyton had a way of making her feel seen, like she was the only person in the world that mattered. But that only made the fear sharper. What if she was giving him too much of herself, too soon?

Her chest tightened. She'd always been careful, always kept one foot planted firmly on the ground. Letting someone in—really in—meant handing over the power to hurt her. And that terrified her more than anything.

She pressed her fingertips lightly to her lips, still warm from his kiss. The memory sent a shiver down her spine, but it wasn't enough to quiet the voice in her head screaming that this was moving too fast, that she wasn't ready.

But then she thought of his hands on her waist, the way his eyes softened every time they met hers, and the way he made her laugh when she felt like the weight of the world was pressing down on her.

Maybe he's different, she thought, her heart battling with her mind. Maybe he's worth the risk.

The CD player softly played a song she didn't recognize, the lyrics fading into the background as her eyelids grew heavy. She didn't know if she was ready to give Peyton all of her, but she knew one thing: she couldn't imagine walking away.

As sleep pulled her under, her last thought lingered, bittersweet and fragile: Please don't let this end in heartbreak.