Tamina

The sudden grip around my fingers makes me jump, but the soothing caress of his thumb soon has me relaxing in my seat again, and he seems to enjoy the notion to.

"You never cease to amaze me," he murmurs, focusing on the road ahead.

I'm not sure what I've done, but if he's pleased, then I'm not going to complain. However, I am feeling inquisitive about this 'casual date' of ours. I'd be damned if I knew what it entails, but I'd thought they were all the same.

"Tamina?"

Stirring from deep thought with a start, my cheeks heat up. "Yes, sorry, what happened?"

A low chuckle greets my ears, fuelling the fire in my cheeks. I'm going to have to cut out my daydreaming habit.

"What is your choice of food style when you don't cook?" he queries.

"Who said I can cook?" I fire back. Persing my lips at his raised brow, I laugh. "I'm just joking! I can cook a little bit, but nothing fancy."

Brandon shakes his head, and there's a small glint in his eye. "Naughty girl, do I have to say no to desert?"

A gasp comes from me. "If you do, that makes you inhuman. Who can pass up desert?"

"You're right, but it must depend on that desert, shouldn't it?" he muses.

Shifting from embarrassment, my brain turns to mush. I've never had a time where that question has been asked, and if it weren't for my books, I'd be more unprepared for it.

"Now, can you tell me what sort of food you like?"

Remembering his question from moments ago, a small smile dances on my lips. "Well, once in a blue moon I might get a takeaway or a chip shop."

He creates a small sound in the back of his throat. "Then I think we have found our spot." Upon noticing my quizzical expression, he adds, "There's a neat place not that far out of town, give or take another fifteen minutes."

"That sounds great, what is it?"

Taking a hand off the wheel to scratch the back of his neck, his eyes fleet to me. "It's a restaurant, but not like the one you're thinking of. It's not fancy, and there's music."

My heart swells. "Thank you, I'm looking forward to it, have you been there before?"

Brandon steers the car elegantly round the curve in the road, the motion causes my hand to be caressed once again. Taking a moment to think of a response, he finally divulges, "I haven't but I know the people who work there. There's a variety of food; Indian, Chinese, Thai, you name it and I'm sure they have it." He tilts his for a second. "Do you like spicy food?"

My head bobs too quickly for my liking, but he simply grins. "Yeah, I do guiltily. What about you?"

"I'm always up for something spicy, and no. Normally I don't dine in public unless accompanied," he explains.

Strangely, my mind lingers on the accompanied part. An unfamiliar feeling sets inside my stomach and steadily floods into my chest. The only reason I'm not dwelling on it is because of that reassuring squeeze his fingers do.

"Yes?"

"I mean with work colleagues." His voice cuts through the short minutes of silence. "The last woman I'd brought out was a little over a year ago."

My eyes gape like never before. Doubt has its claws in me, but something is telling me he's clarifying things so I don't get jealous. Either that, or he didn't want me to think he has women on the go. A sigh comes from me.

He's the second kindest man I'm thankful to have met.

"Oh, no, please," I start. "You don't need to explain anything to me, honestly. We aren't dating. . ."

My teeth fret my lower lip nervously at the sight of the sly glint crossing his features. "Are we, or are we not going on a date right now?"

He's right, and he knows it.

Brandon's thumb strokes up and down the length of my hand, and my brain is too comfy with it to care. I'm going to have to ask him what this is, and what it's leading to. Mentally shaking the thoughts away, I hadn't realised I was pulling my hand away until his keeps it in place.

"What's the matter, love?" he asks while manoeuvring the car down another street, and the note of concern doesn't go unnoticed either.

Sucking in a needed breath, my body swivels enough to face him, and by the way he straightens, I've got his full attention. "Brandon. . . is this like an actual date?" I breathe out.

His brows furrow for a second before he replies, "Yes, why?"

"What is a casual date? I mean, I thought they were all the same," I blurt, slamming my free hand over my mouth.

When Brandon remains silent, a streak of uncertainty washes over me.

That's not what I was expecting to happen.

"Forget I said anything, please."

"No, Tamina," he responds, suddenly abruptly, "answer me honestly. Have you ever been on a date before?"

All I'm able to do is shake my head, not daring to make eye contact. "It's ridiculous."

"It most certainly is." He sighs heavily while flicking the indicator to turn again. "You should've had men lining up at your feet."

I've got to meet his eye now. There's no way he said that with a straight face, or even meant it. If he did, then I'm certain he's going to be that shooting star I'm not going to let slip by.

"Why?"

He laughs; it's short but a real one filled with disbelief. "Because you're special, and the most gorgeous woman I've ever met." His fingers softly squeeze mine. "If I had known you then, I would've made sure I did."

My heart skips a beat, and it feels good, like it's surrounded by a fuzzy barrier and encased in warmth. Only a breathless exhale floats around the interior of his vehicle. My brain's buffering again, and I'm in desperate need to calm down or I'll die of embarrassment.

"The date?"

"Yes, the date," he agrees, thankfully letting me off the hook for evading his comment. Shifting the gear to speed up a notch for the open road, he clears his throat. "Tamina, I've asked you to join me for a date to get to know you on another level, then I was going to take you home. Nothing more will happen."

The tension in my body flushes out in one big swoop.

Although, does he only want to get to know me, or is there more?

"Is there anything else to it?" I wish there wasn't a hint of hopefulness in my words, but I know there was, and it bugs me because I'm not sure if I even want anything to happen after this other than what already has. "I just mean, from what I've read, all dates seem the same, so what's different?"

He chuckles. "Well, it depends on the people, for example, intent is one. We are going on a date to get to know one another to see how it goes and if it will go anywhere—or to see if another date could be on the rise, whatever you decide." Taking a minute to think, he continues, "Others may go on a date because they like each other and want to get to know one another on an intimate level, some may be together and want time alone, others may do it to see if they connect and may have intercourse at the end."

I choke on air at the last part, and he nearly swerves the car. When he's assured I'm fine, he continues at the speed he was at.

"If you shall grant me a next time, maybe we will be more, or develop into something more, but right now, I just want you to be comfortable, love."

Everything in me is yelling for me to say something about the whole ordeal, whether that be to do with my emotions or just that what he said would make sense. But I can't. Instead, my head bobs like a dummy. On the other hand, Brandon doesn't seem phased.

"If it puts you at ease, love, we can discuss this more over dinner. For now, I'd like to hear about you getting ready."

Calming the erratic race of my heart, my brain conjures up enough words so he doesn't think I'm growing cold on him. "Um, sure. . . So, I drank the hot chocolate, thank you by the way."

He gives my hand another squeeze. "No problem, please continue."

Nodding, I say, "I had a bath, put on my outfit, and curled my hair; it wasn't that interesting."

"I think it is," he admits. "Your hair is as stunning as ever, and the shade of it. . . and your top brings out the colours in your eyes," he comments in a matter-of-fact voice, pulling a gasp from me.

Stealing a glance at him, doubt sinks in. There's no way he's a real man. He's got to have fallen out of a book, if not a movie. At this point, I'd believe magic was possible.

"Thank you. . . what about you?" I curse my poor excuse of throwing the question together, it's not even like I'm asking what pants he's wearing.

"I made a few calls, showered, and dressed. The last few minutes I spent messaging with you."

That's when realisation dawns on me. Brandon must've arrived early. It makes sense, he had stopped messaging after he sent the last one and knew how to respond to mine when I opened the door. Scratching the nape of my neck, I murmur, "I'm sorry I replied late, I zoned out."

He shakes his head and meets my eye. "No apologies needed, are you still anxious?"

Fiddling with the hem of my top, a smile tugs at my lips. "Not as much. . . I'm still excited, maybe a little bit more now that we're on the way to our destination." My eyes drop to his clothes briefly with heated cheeks. "And I meant what I said too, you look good."

"Not handsome?" he teases.

I giggle. "Stop it you."

The fifteen minutes soon blur by along with the roads we whiz down. My father will fall in love if he ever gets to lay his eyes on this car, and when my eyes land on the speed O, I can recall the time he taught me the speed limits of some of the cars, and this was included.

Deciding there's been enough comfortable silence, I pipe up. "Have you ever hit the limit before?"

Brandon skilfully swerves us into a parking spot away from the three cars dotting the other sections. The neon green sign glows against the darkening sky, and from this distance, I've got no idea what it says, but eagerness is making itself known. The rumble of the engine cuts off, and the quiet nearly becomes deafening.

Swivelling in his seat, he casts me a mischievous look. "I like it fast, you tell me."

His lip curls up dangerously at the corner as he leaves me to think about the question while he exits the car, and the door shuts.