Date 6

                                    

                                          
Charlie sat on her bed, her thoughts spinning like a storm she couldn't control. She wasn't used to feeling this way—uncertain, unsure of herself. For so long, her life had been simple: follow the plan, work hard, and keep people at a safe enough distance to avoid disappointment. But Peyton had disrupted all of that.
He made her feel alive in ways she'd never known, but also vulnerable. With him, there was no half-measure. His gaze was like a spotlight, unrelenting in its warmth and intensity. And that scared her. What if she couldn't be enough for him? What if she couldn't give back the passion he so freely offered?
Her roommate's words earlier echoed in her head. Heartbreak is inevitable, Charlie. You have to decide if he's worth it.
Charlie wasn't sure she could handle heartbreak. Not now, when her carefully constructed life was already threatening to crumble under the weight of her feelings.
A knock at the door startled her, and she scrambled to her feet. She forced a smile before opening it. Peyton stood there, looking effortlessly charming in his casual jacket, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her.
"Ready for a classy night of popcorn and soda?" he teased.
Charlie nodded, clutching her bag a little too tightly. "Always."
He reached for her hand as they walked out, and for a split second, she considered pulling away. The warmth of his palm against hers was almost too much—a reminder of the closeness she wasn't sure she could handle. But she let him hold her hand, not wanting to hurt his feelings.
The drive to the theater was filled with silence, heavy and uncomfortable. Charlie tried to think of something to say but couldn't summon anything that didn't feel forced. She caught Peyton glancing at her a couple of times, concern flickering in his expression, but he didn't press her.
At the theater, she chose a movie she'd been wanting to see. Peyton smiled, buying the tickets without hesitation.
Inside, he offered her popcorn and candy, but she declined, waving it off with a polite smile. "I'm good, thanks," she murmured.
Peyton bought some anyway, his optimism undeterred. During the movie, he draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. Charlie let herself lean into him, but it felt like a facade—her mind was too busy racing to enjoy the warmth of his touch.
By the time the credits rolled, Charlie was the first out of her seat, anxious to escape the dark theater and her own swirling thoughts.
***
Where do you want to eat?" Peyton asked as they walked to the truck, his hand swaying gently with hers. His voice was light, but there was a hint of hesitation, like he could sense something was off.
"I'm not that hungry," Charlie said, forcing another smile.
He studied her for a moment but didn't press further. The drive back was quieter than the first, the silence stretching uncomfortably between them. Charlie felt the weight of his gaze every time he glanced her way, but she kept her eyes on the passing scenery, unwilling to meet his.
When they reached her dorm, she opened the truck door quickly, eager to escape. "Thanks, Peyton. I had a good time, really." She hoped her voice sounded convincing.
He followed her out, closing the truck door behind him. "Charlie." His voice was soft, but it stopped her in her tracks. "Did I do something wrong?"
Her chest tightened. She turned to face him, seeing the hurt etched into his features, the way his shoulders sagged slightly.
"No, why would you think that?" Her voice wavered, betraying her.
"You're pulling away," he said simply, his voice steady but tinged with sadness. "I can feel it. Please don't shut me out."
Charlie felt the tears welling up before she could stop them. She hugged herself tightly, her breath hitching as sobs broke free. "I'm sorry," she choked out, her voice barely audible.
Before she could push him away, Peyton pulled her into his arms, holding her like he never wanted to let go. He ran a hand through her hair, whispering soothing words she couldn't quite make out.
Part of her wanted to push him away, to retreat into the safety of her own walls. But another part of her, the part that was exhausted from holding it all in, stayed. She let herself melt into his embrace, her tears soaking into his shirt.
When she finally pulled back, wiping at her cheeks, Peyton cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "Talk to me," he pleaded, his voice soft and steady. "What's going on?"
"I need time," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Time?"
"To think. About everything. About us." She looked down, avoiding his eyes. "I wasn't ready for any of this, Peyton. And now it's all happening so fast. I just—I need to figure out if I can handle it."
Peyton's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Okay. Take the time you need. But don't shut me out completely, Charlie. Please."
She nodded, unable to speak.
As he got back into his truck, she stood on the sidewalk, watching him drive away. The ache in her chest felt unbearable, but she couldn't shake the thought that pushing him away might hurt even more.
Her heart felt like it was caught in a vice, torn between fear and longing.