Tamina

My fingers clasp around the cup, the heat strokes the inside of my hand and I'm unable to prevent the comforted sigh from coming out. The mixture of caramel and the faint twist of caffein soothes me and beckons me for a taste. Taking a cautious sip, allowing the hot liquid to linger on my tongue for a moment and quickly swallow it down. Glancing at him, I say, "OK, not that bad." I stop at the tingling in my mouth, feeling it water. "But how can you drink it straight up like that? It's hot."

He shakes his head, lip quirking. "I've been drinking this for a long time. My mouth is used to hot things."

When his eyes land on me, my brain buffers.

Not knowing what to say, I offer his drink back. When his fingers reach for it, they brush against mine, a zap of electricity runs through my skin and alarms me. The cup dips and a small portion of steaming liquid splashes over my hoodie along with the length of my thumb.

Brandon's quick to pull the coffee away and inspect the situation with worry clouding his features. "I apologise, forgive me." His tone is sincere. "It hasn't burned you, has it?"

The dull sting layering my skin is hard to miss, but it will pass in a couple of seconds. However, as if sensing my lack of focus, he takes my hand for a closer inspection, and there's a faint pink mark. Before any words can be spoken on my part, his lips trail along the marking, leaving me speechless and with a new burn in my cheeks.

"I apologise again, does it hurt?"

I shake my head, stuttering, "N-no, sorry."

My conscience screams at me for being clumsy and letting something as trivial as an electric shock distract me. An unnerving feeling creeps in at the thought of my vacation from bad luck coming to an end. On the other hand, women would kill to have a man like Brandon kissing their skin, and I'm fumbling like a fool.

Mustering my brain to concoct words, I murmur, "It was my fault. The famous electric shocks strike again." Attempting a light chuckle, I sigh whilst evaluating the damage. "I'm fine, honestly, but I think I better head home. . ."

Humiliation works over-time through my system, knowing there's no way I'm going to be able to walk around with mess on my chest. Fidgeting in my seat, my body decides it's time to climb to my feet, only for Brandon to grip my wrist gently and his shaded gaze to lock on me.

"Please, don't go yet," he replies softly. "Would you like me to buy you a new one?"

My heart skips a beat, the sincerity of his voice and the generous offer taking me by surprise. It's strange to say that even though this is really happening, it doesn't feel real—he doesn't seem real. He's a complete U-turn to him, and insanely a dream man to all those who need someone like him.

"No, seriously it's alright."

"Do you have anything on underneath?" He slips off his shades, placing them beside his thigh that's become closer to mine. "If you would prefer, you can have my jacket?"

I'm embarrassed by the number of times my cheeks have warmed under his gaze and because of him, but the notion of knowing I only have a bra underneath is too much, let alone him knowing that too. The walk of shame home sounds preferable, but having the fact that coffee ruined the day instead of him finding out I'm nearly naked is almost on the same level. Although, I must commend him for being a gentleman and offering his jacket.

Setting his drink aside, he trails the zip down the length of his torso until the leather hangs open. Shedding it off, he stands up and holds it out to me.

Taking the phone out of my pocket, my words come out in a shy breath. "Brandon. . ."

"Arms."

Complying, my arms slip through the awaiting sleeves timidly, leaving him to work the zip up my body.

Dying of humiliation is going to become a thing if this carries—

His scent is so masculine. It empowers me, but my nose can't help but find it wonderful at the same time. Needing more, I breath it in, sigh out and inhale for a second time. Checking on Brandon, my eyes catch a bulge of muscle beneath the fabric of the hoodie covering his arms, and my cheeks are boiling all over again before settling my gaze on my lap whilst hoping for the bench to swallow me whole.

"Thank you," I whisper, scrutinising his clothes at the same time. "Are you sure you're going to be warm enough in that?"

He bows his head and clips his shades onto the collar of his hoodie before collecting his drink.

"I'm sorry." I blurt, rubbing my wrist for reassurance. "I'm really clumsy."

Brandon sighs, placing his hand so casually on my thigh, causing me to tense momentarily. "Don't apologise, there's nothing to be sorry for. Accidents happen," he assures, putting me strangely at ease. Removing his hand from me leg, he scratches the back of his neck, resulting in the bags to rustle as they slip to his wrist as he enquires, "I know it's a bit late to ask now, but do you have a boyfriend?"

The blood rushes from my face to my heart as it erratically beats in its confinement while my brain tries to figure out why he would ask such a thing. There's no way he's bringing this up because he wants something from me, but if he does, then I'm going to have to draw a line and leave if he doesn't accept my decision. It would be a shame since I like his company.

"Why?"

As if catching onto my sudden shift in mood, his expression turns neutral with a friendly hue. "Because I doubt your boyfriend would like you hanging around another man. I don't want to cause you trouble."

Blood shoots to my face again and my heart flutters ever so slightly. Then I'm filled with relief. "Thank you, and I don't have a one."

Now it's his turn to say, "Why?"

My body freezes, the hope of him not mentioning it crushed with the simple word.

"I'm sorry," I start. "I don't want to talk—"

Brandon collects my free hand in his, which takes me by surprise, halting the rest of my words. My mouth struggles to complete it when I see the gentle expression on his features, and it easily pulls a gasp from me.

The longer he stares, the more I'm on the brink of stumbling over the edge, not even my parents know what happened, and it sucks that I had to lie to them.

"You can talk to me, Miss Tamina."

With those words, my lip rolls between my teeth and my head turns to the side, knowing tears will arrive if I keep looking at him. However, a warm grip brings my view onto him, the breeze plays with the tufts of his hair from under his hood, and my heart does that strange flutter again as he shows a warm smile. Slowly I bob my head in acceptance.

"It's because I don't want one," I whisper under my breath, but he hears me perfectly.

Pulling away, he clears his throat. "Why is that?"

"It's just one of those things," I sigh. "Anyway, what about your girlfriend? Wouldn't she be worried about you being with another girl?"

Well done for changing it onto him, hopefully he will talk about something—

His lip curls. "I don't have one."

I mentally curse at him for using my words against me, and now I'm curious as to why he isn't dating anyone. Admittedly, he's a handsome man in his prime and can sweep anyone woman off her feet if he wanted to.

"And why not?"

He meets my gaze with a knowing expression. "Family, and the right woman hasn't come along as of yet."

Nodding slowly, my lips pull a long drag from my frostino in hopes to cool down before softly muttering, "You may find the girl you're searching for one day." Clearing my throat, I fumble for anything to cover up the awkwardness I'm feeling. "So," I say, catching his attention from his coffee, "what brought you to the book shop?"

"Swallowing his mouthful, he answers, "I was buying books for my brother. He needs textbooks for college, and funnily enough, a book to complete a series."

I can't help but laugh at the coincidence. "I guess it was fate we bumped into one another then, huh?"

He chuckles. "It must've been."

Finding myself intrigued to learn more about his family and after his comment, I'm glad I bought the bookmark.

"What does your brother study?"

Brandon's smile blooms once more while he divulges, "He has a mind for art, but he's behind on his Maths, so he has to retake it."

Nodding my head in acknowledgement, I ask, "How old is he?"

"Jordan's eighteen, he's in his second year. "It's just us and. . . our parents."

It's not hard to pick up the small hesitance before he said the words 'our parents,' and the urge to avoid making him feel uncomfortable is strong, so my brain hastily conjures up a response to sway from his parents.

"Lucky, it's only me and my parents," I relay.

"What do they do for a living?" he questions, accepting the change.

Admiration swells in my chest from how interested he is in my family; his posture snaps straighter than before, and that's enough evidence for me to know he's listening intently.

"Well. . . my mum has been working as a journalist for ten years, and my father is her accomplice. She persuaded her boss to permit my dad to collaborate with her with a decent pay," I explain, followed by a heavy sigh. "My dad's previous job wasn't treating him right." Twirling my straw around, I offer, "Does your family have any interests?"

"Nothing special. Tell me, are you still studying, if not, what did you last do?"

"I'm not anymore, when I did, I chose Art coincidentally and English to improve my grade," I respond proudly, inclining my head toward him. "How about yourself?"

The tiny wave of air picks up into a mini gust, my free hand instinctively moves to tame the elevating strands whilst sipping my drink, and Brandon's cologne has me inhaling deeper. I can't help but think of what it could be, but nothing comes to mind.

"I studied English and Business, after that there was little time to study." He takes a sip of his coffee and swallows. "Work was a primary focus for me."

Bobbing my head in understanding, too busy captivated by his words. He looks like a man who spends his time wisely.

If that's the case, then why wouldhe make a slot for someone as ordinary as me?