Tamina

I knew spending the night away with my book was a bad idea, but it's so good. A purchase well done—even though it wasn't mine to make.

Now I'm standing in the middle of a cute shop that's second on my list of favourite spots with its modernised gifts, traditional items, and a stationary section with trinkets. Even the smell is a mixture of the sweet modern day and the musty past. Phase one of the late-night concoction of a plan was to get here before meeting Brandon, second was to find a gift. As my eyes rake the shelves from a distance, the inevitable sinks in.

What the hell do I buy?

Glancing at the cute cat clock, there's twenty-five minutes for me to make it to the book shop. If I hurry, there's a chance I could arrive earlier than we agreed. Would being early be a bad thing? He looks like the type of man who keeps to his times, if not, then I'll have to hide on the corner until it's time.

Inspecting the stock in front of me, nothing pegs me as something he would need or like. Hovering over the stationary area, my sight jams to a halt on the pots displayed on the far end of the table. Scurrying over, catching myself when the corner of the carpet snags my foot before arriving with a squeal of joy at the view of the bookmarks.

It would be perfect; Brandon's come to the library twice now as far as I'm aware, and he's read one of Sylvia Day's books.

On the other hand, there's so many to choose from. Plain single colours, multicolours, texts, patterns, and then the ones that instantly caught my eye: 3D animals. One has a grizzly bear with a woodland background, another has a tree python in a forest, and the last one has a pack of wolves on a mountain's edge.

The wolves draw me in, and that's all I need to hastily pay and slip it inside a cute light pink plastic bag. It's times like this where I'm thankful for the little quaint gift shop, and the thought of him not liking it makes me anxious. Although, the idea was to get him a little something, even if it isn't money, he deserves it. Hopefully he likes wolves.

The distance between me and the book shop steadily closes, and all I'm feeling is anxiety and the faint tickle of the breeze, remembering the last time I hung out with someone from the opposite sex apart from my father was just over a year ago, let alone with any women other than my mother. On the plus side, if this goes well, I'll have good news for them when they return in two days.

In terms of a relationship, meeting someone like my dad— 'Prince Charming' as the women put it—is out of the window for me, and too high of an expectation. Leaning the hard way was the only way I was going to realise that, and I'm just lucky to have learnt it sooner rather than later.

Pausing briefly to flatten my hoodie while the hood sleeps against my shoulders, the word Superstar stands out against the creamy base in thick gold letters. Staring down at my jeans, they aren't too bad regardless of the small wrinkles at the bottom. Glancing at the time at the top left of my screen, a freaked gasp comes from me as my limbs start pumping with only four minutes to reach my destination.

After what feels like a mile, my feet skid to a halt at the sight of Brandon not that far from me with his hands clasped behind his back, and those familiar shades sitting on the bridge of his nose. Upon my arrival, he lets a brief quirk of his lips show.

"You're on time," he greets, sounding surprised.

"Thank God," I huff, catching my breath. "I thought I was going to be late."

He cocks a dark brow. "Why did you think that?"

A sheepish grin lifts onto my face as my free hand pats down my disarrayed hair. "Well, I felt bad that you paid for my book, and I wanted to thank you. . ." Swinging the bag from behind my back, and extending it in his direction with flushed cheeks, I add, "So I got you this."

At first, he looks taken aback with his furrowed brows and wide eyes, and I'm not entirely sure if it's a good thing. When he retrieves the little bag, my anxiety eases up a smidge, and he carefully pulls the bookmark into view. In his analysis, the side of his lips turn up.

"Thank you, I'll use this," he comments with a small chuckle. "I actually have something for you."

Revealing a small clear bag from behind his back, my eyes bulge out of their sockets. If I'd known he was going to do this, I would've bought something else. On the other hand, it is making me curious about him.

"Thank you, Brandon," I say earnestly whilst collecting the handles, feeling the soft friction once fully in my grasp, "but you honestly didn't have to. I haven't got you anything." My lips form a pout at the idea of a simple bookmark being enough to repay him for yesterday.

"No need, Miss Tamina. This is all I could want."

Shyly pulling out the contents to distract myself, my eyes gape more than before at the sight of the object in my hand.

"That was the right one, right?" Brandon scratches the light stubble littering his jaw. "I can take it back and have it exchanged, the receipt's inside."

My head shakes dazedly before my lips set into a light smile, slowly trailing the title with the pad of my finger.

I'm surprised he even remembered, and he's gone out of his way to find it for me.

"No, this is perfect. . . thank you, Brandon." Tucking the book back into the safety of the bag with a beaming smile, I bring my eyes to his.

When they lock, the way his lips suck in a sharp breath doesn't go unnoticed by me. Twirling the handles between my fingers while my shoes scuff the concrete as my gaze strays to the street, noticing how there's barely anyone wandering around due to the luxury of work. And just like me, Brandon's wearing a hoodie, only this time it's black and sits beneath a leather jacket in case it decides to rain.

"Why do you keep buying me things?" Biting the inside of my cheek and mentally cursing myself for the stupid outburst. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for that to come out how it did, I'm just curious, that's all."

Hopefully the heat in my cheeks isn't hot enough for the flush to be detected, and I'm beginning to curse the lack of communication my brain has with my mouth. However, the sound of his chuckle relaxes me and soothes the thought of him taking any offence.

"I want to, you're a nice woman."

My face tingles all over again. Using the motion of my head to hide behind my hair, I murmur, "This isn't a date, is it?"

Even though he's already told me this is just an acquaintance meet up, it still leaves me anxious. The doubt of an ulterior motive floats in my mind, turning my stomach into knots. After never having any dates and a choice I could've done without, this is a situation I'm not ready for. According to a majority of my books, gifts are only brought by the opposite sec if it's a special occasion, or if it's a date.

How am I going to avoid that?

"I promise, it's not a date," he reassures.

A relieved breath comes from me, allowing the confidence to seep in once again to face him.

"If it goes well, there could be one in the near future."

My eyes jam open, lips parting as a squeak comes out instead of a clear exhale which earns me another one of Brandon's chuckles.

"Come, I believe we were going to grab coffee." He rests his palm on the small of my back. "Where would you prefer to go?"

The only places that come to mind are Costa or my job, and I doubt taking him to my work would be appropriate. Costa's quite debateable as well, maybe somewhere quieter would be a better preference for him.

"Do you have a place in mind?" I offer instead, cringing at how timid my words are compared to when he proposed them.

The heat of his skin soaks into my lower spine, the gentleness somewhat easing my tension while sending a circuit of miniature sparks for a moment until I'm distracted by trying to discern the size of it. The thought of it being twice the size of mine hits me before I bat it away as ridiculous and childlike, only to startle when his voice appears.

"Sorry, can you repeat that, please?" I say, guilty for zoning out on him.

Brandon inclines his head slightly before complying. "I was saying that I want to go where you fancy, love."

His tone is calm and polite, not an ounce of annoyance showing for my lack of attention, which is strange because apparently people hate daydreamers. So, seeing Brandon like this makes me question why he doesn't.

Fiddling with the handles once again, enjoying the faint rustle it gives off, I swallow the lump in my throat and manage to push out lightly, "Have you ever been to Costa?"

Brandon's silent, contemplating before answering. "I can't say I have. What is it like?"