Charlie groaned as her phone alarm rang next to her bedside table. She squinted at the screen—4 a.m.

Way too early to start the day, especially on a Saturday.

Usually, her weekends began with a lazy morning and brunch, not the pre-dawn plan of waking up anytime before eleven. But with John picking her up, she had to get up. She wasn't going to back out of this second date.

Lying there, Charlie blinked a few times and stare at the ceiling.

The thought of fishing at sunrise made her wonder if she'd lost her mind.

Yet, her thoughts drifted to John. His cool demeanor, like he seemed at home doing things that weren't her usual routine.

With a soft sigh, she pushed herself out of bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Charlie stood, feeling the faint hum of the city outside her window and the stillness inside her flat. She tiptoed to her dresser, where she'd laid out her outfit the night before leaving her bedroom to the bathroom. She splashed cold water on her face, the shock jolting her awake.

Her clothes for the day were casual and comfortable: a soft, long-sleeved green cotton shirt and a pair of comfy pants.

Then, she slipped back to her bedroom into her small closet and put on her trusty sneakers—the ones that had been through everything and could handle a little dirt.

As she glanced at herself in the mirror, she pulled her hair into a ponytail and added lip balm to her lips, and a light mist of her chosen perfume, Early Morning Breeze, as a morning boost.

Then, Charlie left her bedroom and returned with a few water bottles, grabbing her small travel purse. She double-checked everything, grabbed her phone on the nightstand, and sat on the edge of her bed.

It was almost 4:45 a.m., and there was still another hour and a half until John would arrive.

She tried to distract herself with her phone, checking and scrolling through her social media feed, though her mind wandered to the lake.

What if she didn't catch a single fish? Or worse, what if she embarrassed herself in front of John?

Her nerves tighten on her stomach.

Charlie took a breath, feeling her nerves settle a bit. The soft hum of early-morning London outside seemed to keep time with her heartbeat, and she watched the minutes crawl by.

She wanted to text him, maybe to check if everything was still on, but she resisted the urge, not wanting to seem overeager.

Instead, she pulled her hair tie tighter, giving herself a final once-over in the mirror.

At last, her phone buzzed.

The sound was like a spark, jolting her out of her thoughts.

Her heart quickened as she saw an unknown number, which she guessed was John.

John: I'm outside.

Her pulse sped up as she grabbed her purse and headed for the door, locking it behind her.

The crisp morning air hit her as she stepped outside the building. She saw him the first thing he leaned against his truck. Even in the low light, he looked effortlessly rugged.

He was dressed in a gray hoodie under a dark jacket, his worn tactical pants tucked into his boots. A dark beanie covered his head, adding a touch of warmth to his already laid-back look.

When he saw her, he straightened up and opened the door for her.

"Good morning, Charlotte." John said in his warm tone, and how he said her name flushed her cheeks.

"Morning," she said softly, stepping closer. Her breath was visible in the cool air.

When she climbed into the passenger seat, John helped her and she appreciated his quiet help. The seats were warm, and the faint scent of leather mingled with something earthy, like a hint of pinewoods—just like yesterday.

John closed the door after her and walked around to the driver's side. He slid into his seat and glanced at her before her eyes met his.

"Thanks for picking me up," Charlie said, buckling her seatbelt. "It's colder than I expected."

He nodded and looked to the front when he started the truck.

"Early mornings are like that. Cold at first, but it'll be warmer once the sun's up."

She nodded, and he drove at ease.

The silence wasn't uncomfortable; the gentle hum of the truck and the occasional crunch of gravel under the tires filled the space between them. It was just what Charlie needed, or John preferred this way before either could break the ice.

After a few minutes, John glanced her way, breaking the silence.

"You smell nice," he said, almost as if the thought had slipped out.

Charlie looked at him, touched by the small compliment.

"Thank you. It's a perfume my mum gave me last Christmas. She's a huge Dolly Parton fan, loves all things Western."

His brow arched in interest. "I can't say I know her music well, but I have a friend who loves Western music. I'll have to ask him if Dolly's on his list."

Charlie hummed in surprise.

"I didn't take you for the country music type."

John chuckled, releasing some hearty laugh that rumbled from his chest.

"No, I'm more into classic rock and alternative. Although, Kentucky's got some good stuff."

"Actually, I'm from Kentucky," Charlie said with a slight grin.

"Do you?" John blinked before he added. "Simon likes to take his solo vacations out there. Big fan of your Daniel's whiskey."

Charlie relaxed after his response. She liked that he shared these personal tidbits, including those of someone he knew by the name of Simon.

"Hmm, okay."

Then, John broke the quiet again a little while later, glancing at her with a half-smile. "How'd you sleep? Got any rest?"

"I slept well," Charlie replied, hugging herself with arms against her chest. "It's early, but I'm glad I didn't sleep in."

John nodded. His hand was on the steering wheel, while the other was resting on his knee.

"Aye, I could've used a bit more myself," he admitted. "Long night at the pub."

"Doesn't seem to slow you down," she teased, smiling back at him.

His lips curled at his end, and his eyes sparkled with some wit.

"I don't mind early mornings. Plus, the cold doesn't bother me much." He paused, his fingers brushing over his beard as if in thought. "This thing keeps me warm."

The comment was unexpected, and Charlie grinned; she couldn't help but giggle.

"Oh, does it now?"

His smirk grew a little wider, clearly pleased with her reaction.

"It does. One of the perks of having a beard. Comes in handy on mornings like this."

"I never would've guessed." Charlie laughed softly.

"See, that's why you've got me around," John said, his voice teasing but still soft. "I'm full of helpful tips."

His dry humor had her smiling more, the nerves slowly easing away as they continued down the road.

There was something about his presence—he didn't need or have to fill every minute with conversation, but when he did speak, there was an honesty behind it that made her comfortable.

They drove on, the skyline gradually fading into the distance as they left the city behind.

Charlie found herself glancing out the window, watching the countryside start to appear as they headed toward wherever John had planned for their date.

***

It took them about 28 minutes to reach their destination—Highams Park Lake.

John knew this area well, and since he liked to fish from there, it was a short stroll from where he always parked. Even in the dim morning light, with the sun still hidden below the horizon, the lake was calm and glassy-like. The air carried the soft scent of earth and fresh water.

Charlie stretched as she stepped out of the truck. She wrapped her arms around herself for warmth until she saw John pull out his jacket and drape it over her shoulders.

"Oh, you don't have to—"

"I insist," he said firmly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Can't have you freezing before we start."

She stared at him and pressed her lips, almost smiling at him (and herself).

Feeling the warmth of his jacket, she watched him move to retrieve the rest of his gear—a bait bag, two fishing rods, and a stainless steel double-wall thermos with two plastic coffee mugs.

"Here, drink some. That'll keep you warm," John said, handing her the thermos and the heat seeped into her hands, helping to ward off the chill.

"Thanks," Charlie muttered, taking a sip after she unscrewed the top lid. The hot tea was just what she needed.

John carried the rest of his gear before giving her a nod to follow him.

As he threw a lunch bag over his shoulder and turned on a flashlight, he led the way down a short path toward the lake.

His stride was confident, as if he could walk this route in his sleep. The beam of his flashlight cut through the darkness, lighting the path in front of them.

Charlie would lie to herself if she had stole glances at him. She couldn't help but watch how he moved, carrying the rods and gear like he never broke a sweat.

"Mind staying close?" John said, glancing back at her. His tone was casual.

"Oh, right," Charlie moved to him, only a little closer.

Their footsteps crunched in unison, shattering the stillness of the morning and echoing through the air.

Each step they took on the leafy ground felt solid but gave just enough to remind them that they were walking on earth. Their shoes scraped against the rugged terrain, sending tingles up their legs with every step.

When they reached the edge of the lake, John switched off his flashlight. The water was still and clear that it acted like a mirror, reflecting the faint outlines of trees and the early light of dawn.

The world seemed to be holding its breath before the start of a new day, and Charlie couldn't help but take it all in—the serene beauty of the lake, and the crispness of the cool air against her skin.

"This is it," John said, setting the gears down and unfurling a blanket. He spread it on the grass for them to sit on.

Next, he dug into the lunch bag, pulling out breakfast: a pack of leftover bagels, cottage cheese, cream cheese, and a jar of blackcurrant jam.

"I thought we could use some appetizers," he said, offering her a bagel with a smile.

Charlie grinned, taking out a piece of bagel, and she chose the blackcurrant jam.

"Uhm... do you have something to spread it with?" Charlie asked, almost surprised.

John blinked, and he realized what she was asking.

"Ah, I got something useful."

She watched him reach into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, well-worn pocket knife.

Its handle was black and sturdy, with faint scratches that hinted at years of use. It was a classic piece—solid, practical, with a hint of rugged that seemed to match him. The blade was sharp enough for slicing through rope or whatever else he might need in the wild, but it looked like it had been polished to near perfection.

"Will this do?" he offered with a sly grin.

Charlie stared at the knife in his outstretched hand. Her brain needing a second to catch up. She had expected, well, maybe a plastic knife or even a spoon. Not... this.

"I... uh," she took the knife carefully, weighing it in her hand. "I wasn't expecting a pocket knife for jam-spreading."

He chuckled a low sound that seemed to echo softly around them.

"Can't say I pack much for tea parties. But I promise it'll work just fine. That blade's got plenty of uses."

"Like slicing a bagel or meat to perfection?" she said with a nervous laugh as she tried to adjust to the feel of the blade.

"Or cutting through a fishing line, fixing gear, you name it," John said, still grinning.

Charlie carefully scooped a little blackcurrant jam onto the blade, trying not to make a mess—or slice herself.

The sight of the jam precariously balanced on the sharp edge made her stifle a laugh. There was something absurd yet fitting about spreading jam with a tactical pocket knife.

"Let's hope I don't end up in the emergency room because of your 'versatile' knife," she quipped.

"If you do, I'll take full responsibility," John said cheekily. His eyes crinkled in the corners as he watched her struggle a little.

Charlie finally managed to get a decent layer of jam onto her bagel, and she handed the knife back to him. Her fingers brushing his briefly as she did so, and he took it with ease. Using the jam remains on his bagel, he tucked it back into his pocket like it was second nature.

She took a bite of her bagel, savoring the sweet taste of the blackcurrant jam.

"You really do come prepared,"

"A bit of experience," he said, spreading his bagel with cottage cheese—no knife needed. "Can't say I thought you'd use my knife for that, though."

"Consider it a successful field test," she said, looking at him with a grin before taking another bite.

John shrugged, sitting beside her on the blanket, his fishing rods resting nearby.

They sat there, eating their bagels and sipping tea in silence.

They watched as the sky's colors slowly brightened. By the time they finished, the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a soft golden glow over the lake.

Once they finished breakfast, John stood and grabbed the fishing rods, handing one to Charlie.

"You ready?"

Charlie took the rod, a small thrill of excitement mixed with nerves running through her.

"I've never done this before, so... go easy on me."

"Don't worry," John said while he was setting up the bait on his rod first. "I'll show you."

Charlie nodded, releasing a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

———

Thank you so much for reading this chapter! I hope you enjoyed seeing John and Charlie's early-morning fishing adventure unfold—complete with tactical jam-spreading and quiet lakeside moments.

Writing their growing bond in such a serene setting was a joy, and I loved adding humor to balance their chemistry.

Don't forget, I release three new chapters every Friday, and sometimes on Wednesdays if I'm feeling generous. Let me know your thoughts!

What's the most creative or unexpected "date breakfast" you've ever had—or would like to have?

How would you react if someone handed you a pocket knife to spread jam? Would you manage, or would it feel too rugged for you?

If you could pick a peaceful setting for a date like this, where would it be—a lake, mountains, beach, or somewhere else?