fallin' all in you | c.l

It was careless to give Charles free reign. Considering he had been so adamant about the whole idea of a date in the first place, she hadn't felt the need to put any limitations on his planning. That was, until she was officially running late.

Asking her to meet at 10AM on a Friday? Mila officially regretted not setting a strict meet after noon rule. Doing so would have at least helped her avoid being on public transportation for an hour among people headed to work.

"Sorry I'm late," she apologized, only to double over in front of Charles, hands on her knees, struggling to breathe.

"Did you run here?" He laughed, grabbing her arm to keep her from collapsing entirely.

Mila nodded, still gasping as she straightened her back. "It would be awfully rude to leave a date waiting for more than fifteen minutes. Of course I ran here."

Charles shook his head, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. His hand found the small of her back as he gently steered her forward. "Next time, I'll tell you to meet at 9:45 so you actually get here on time."

Mila sent him a half-hearted glare. "Are you saying I'm chronically late?"

He smirked. "Of course not."

She huffed but let herself be led forward, any lingering frustration evaporating the moment they stepped into the heart of the farmer's market. The scent of fresh bread, roasting chestnuts, and crisp winter air wrapped around them, making her stomach growl in anticipation. Breakfast was an afterthought.

Stalls lined both sides of the street, filled with bright citrus, winter greens, handmade soaps, and steaming cups of hot cider. This was the heaven she would die in.

Excitement bubbled in her chest as she tried to take everything in.

"Which side do you want to start on?" Charles asked, grinning at her barely contained enthusiasm.

Mila's eyes lit up in delight as she grabbed for his arm, making a beeline toward the produce stalls. The two of them exchanged warm words with the vendor as she launched into a speech about the seasonal offerings. It took all of ten minutes for them to walk away with kumquats, fennel, and spinach—but only because Charles physically removed her from the stall before she got too excited and bought the entire stall.

"Try to pace yourself," he teased, adjusting the bags in his hands, making a show of acting like they were heavy.

Mila rolled her eyes at him playfully, ignoring his warning to make a beeline for a display of handmade soaps. "What are you and the boys doing on Sunday?"

Charles reached for the bag she held, taking the load so she could browse freely. The small gesture made something flutter deep in her chest. She swallowed it down.

"I don't think we have any plans. Why?"

As he responded, Mila lifted a bar of soap to his nose. "Smell."

Obediently, he leaned in, inhaling the subtle lavender and rosemary scent before nodding in approval.

"I'm thinking of hosting a little dinner using our market finds today," she said, dropping the soap and pulling him toward the next stall.

Charles scoffed. "Are you seriously talking about inviting other men to your home on our date?"

Mila giggled, giving him a playful nudge. "No, I'm talking about inviting you and your friends to my home."

"That's still other men," he deadpanned.

She rolled her eyes. "Alix wouldn't forgive me if I hosted something without her, and I can't just invite you because then she would harass me for weeks about how I'm 'finally admitting' something."