Tamina

Spits of clear liquid begins to drip from the heavens, dotting the pavement around our feet. The soft patter on the leaves inches from my head is calming, and the fresh scent mingling with the plants soon become earthy. The noise, the smell, and the view with the rain is comforting and all the more beautiful. In my peripheral vision, Brandon's watching me while scrubbing the lenses of his shades and slipping them on once again.

"Hey, what would you say your favourite type of weather is?"

He takes a moment to adjust his hood, a smile dancing on his lips. "Judging by your expression, you must like the rain."

Bashfully stopping the absent trail of my finger through the gathering droplets beside my leg, a small sigh comes from me as I say, "You got me, now it's your turn to tell me."

Shaking his head in amusement, he copies my action from seconds ago. "I have been a summer person for a long time." Stopping his movements, tilting his cranium to meet me, he adds, "But that doesn't mean I can't find something else to enjoy."

Diverting my gaze to my beverage to take a swig, brushing the stray strands sticking to the sides, my lips can't help but tug up at his comment. Brandon swiftly climbs to his feet, causing my head to snap up and my body to automatically follow as he outstretches a hand for me to take.

"Come, we shall grab some food."

Even though I'm using his help to stand straight, the world decides now is the time to make a mockery of me as the soul of my shoe loses friction on the concrete, and my hold on his palm falters.

I curse luck and my clumsy body!

Before harshness can strike, something strong curls around my waist. Shades slide into view as my head cranes back, and my fingers grip his hoodie likes it's my lifeline, still mesmerised by the fact he caught me.

Small breaths are exchanged, our eyes connect through the dark shields he sports, and his thumb soothingly works through the layers of clothing covering my hip. No words are uttered for a minute until he breaks the silence.

"Are you OK?" he asks with worry underlining his tone.

Calming myself with a deep breath, I say upon letting it out, "Yes. . . sorry." My brain's still too stunned to let any more come out.

After a few minutes pass, Brandon sets me upright, double checking I'm steady before completely letting go. Staring at the floor only to discover swirls of tanned coffee and pale frostino seeping into one another. Internally cringing at the mess, hating how I've wasted our drinks over something ridiculous.

Scuffing the floor, I mumble, "I can get you another one, if you'd like? I'm sorry for spilling your drink."

He settles his finger below my chin before tilting it enough so I have to meet his gaze, he releases me and says, "I'm fine, there's still some left. Don't worry yourself, Miss Tamina." He clears his throat and smiles. "I can get us refills if it's needed."

Humiliation is a majority of what's pooling in the pit of my stomach, that, and the fact I'm still able to recall the ridges of muscle on his biceps against me; his heat, his scent. . . it was overwhelming. My heart's still hammering away in my ribcage, breaths shallow as I mentally curse myself for flushing. Although, the new found urge to get closer to him has me feeling a whole new load of shock, even though that's a place I'm never going to.

Bracing myself with a shaky smile, I pipe up, "Yes, sorry, I was just a little startled."

Accepting my excuse, Brandon places his palm against the small of my back, guiding me away from the spillage, knowing the rain will gradually sweep it down the drain.

I'm excited to see where we go next.

"Am I going to have to hold you the entire way?"

The humour is evident and so open, relief eases my body against his hand at the notion he doesn't have a problem with my lack of balance and coordination.

Laughing with a shake of the head, I retort, "I might have to hold you to that." A small giggle comes from me until I see the way his lip quirks up to the side, and it just makes my face boil.

After ten minutes of walking, we stumble upon a small sandwich shop. The top half is covered in large panes of glass with white frames while the bottom is closed off with leafy green panels with double automatic doors. The name Sam's Sandwiches in olive green letters sit at the peak of the shop with a cute sandwich logo on the end.

With close scrutiny, the shop doesn't ring a bell, but it heightens my eagerness to give it a try. Brandon's already spying on me, most likely reading my mood about this idea, and the way he smiles shows that he's pleased, and it brings another round of the flushes.

"Have you been here before?" he questions, appearing intrigued by the thought.

Brushing a lock of hair behind my ear while my free hand works the hood off my head, I huff out a small breath. "Sadly, no. I don't get out much unless it's for work, food shops, the book store, and family. . . although, this place does look cute."

His brows pinch together. "Why not? If you don't mind me asking."

Admiration settles in again, appreciating his kindness and polite attitude that he's never faltered to show me, and the fact he's interested in everything I have to say is kind of new to me.

I hope I'm coming off as courteous as he is, or at least enough for him to notice.

"Well. . ." I begin, fidgeting with the sleeve of his jacket while conjuring the right words, "I don't have people to do this kind of stuff with as silly as it sounds. My mingling goes as far as my parents, colleagues, Quinton and his family, and the customers—I can't forget them," I giggle.

"And that doesn't bother you?" he fires straight after, even though his voice is soft like he wishes to avoid pushing me too much on the subject but wants to learn at the same time.

Shrugging with a small smile, I reply, "It can be a little trying at times, but it's something I've grown used to, you know? I don't mind it." Heading through the doors and glancing over my shoulder with a grin, I add, "Anyway, what about you? Obviously this isn't your first rodeo."

"Third time"—he collects my wrist, taking me by surprise— "and now you will have someone to do this with."

Brandon's words are confident and kind, which nearly make my knees buckles and my heart jolts while my brain goes to mush. If another woman was in my shoes right now, I bet they would kiss him to death. But as sweet as they are, there's no way to prove that they're true, and it's down to me to see if I can over-see them before I crumble

"T-thank you," I squeak.

Brandon motions his hand near the door for it to open for me like the gentleman he is before releasing my wrist to guide me by the small of my back. The aroma of fresh bread and ingredients don't waste any time to strike me, and my stomach growls out in appreciation at the thought of finally being filled.

That apple is going to tell me it gave me the I told you so look with that shine of its when I get back.

Tracing the length of a tile on the floor, the only thing that comes to mind is, "What are you going for?"

His fingers wrap around my wrist when my hand moves for the bag, halting me with ease. Pulling it back, my gaze snaps up to his, finding a brief smile. "Keep your card away."

My brow elevates. "Why?"

He chuckles. "Because we agreed I could pay for this, remember?"

I laugh, bobbing my head. "Yes, I forgot about that gentleman ego for a second."

His lips lift into a grin. "Never again."

Peering up at the menu, he clears his throat. "I always go for the meatball and barbeque sauce panini." He inches closer to my side, head tilting to inspect the spot I'm staring at. "How about you?"

There are so many choices to even know where to start. There's a sweet section for jams, honey, and chocolate spread, a vegetarian option, spicy, and Halal. Spicy is tempting, but I'd rather not continue this with flushed cheeks any more than I have to and a runny nose.

Breathing out an exasperated sigh, but my lips turn up into a smile anyway. "It's hard to pick, there're so many combinations," I awe. "Can I have a cheese panini, please?"

I'd rather not take up too much of their time, and I don't want to make Brandon's go cold either if it comes out before mine. That, and my belly won't shut up until it's fed.

"Are you sure that's all you want, Miss Tamina?"

I nod my head until a question comes to mind.

"Hey, Brandon?" I test, catching his attention. "Why do you keep calling me Miss Tamina?"