Charles sat across from you at the small café table, the remnants of a shared dessert between you—a sign of how long you’d been lost in conversation. His casual elegance was unmistakable, even in a simple white shirt and jeans, but there was something softer about him tonight. He swirled the remnants of his espresso absentmindedly, his green eyes flickering from the harbor view to you.

“It’s funny,” he began, his voice quieter than usual, “I spend so much time trying to perfect every detail on the track, but nights like this remind me that not everything needs to be planned out.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips, but his gaze lingered on yours now, more searching, almost vulnerable. “I mean, if I had planned tonight, I don’t think I could have imagined… this,” he added, gesturing slightly between the two of you.

There was an unspoken something in the air—something about the way his expression softened, how his hand brushed yours on the table, lingering for just a moment too long.