Tamina

In the time it takes for Brandon to round the vehicle and open my door, the answer was yes. The recollection of him telling me so through his work, and if that's the case, I can only imagine how it would feel to be in this car at its top speed.

The sudden cool brush of air breaks me from my line of thought, and when I turn to see him, his gaze is boring down on me with warmth lacing them. His palm is extended toward me, the other holding the door ajar enough for me to climb out. Taking it, the heat of his palm pulls a sigh from me, he hitches a brow. "Do you have an answer for me, love?"

He sounds attentive to hear what I've got to say, and it only makes me happier.

"So, I was thinking," I begin while sliding out of the seat, "that you do like to go fast. It makes sense since you own a vehicle like this, and you said you're quite accustomed to it at work."

Dropping my hand to my side once I'm out of the car, he shuts the door and locks it swiftly so we can take our first step toward the structure in front of us. In my peripheral vision, his lip quirks and it stirs the butterflies all over again.

Chuckling, he retorts, "Good girl." And his hand rests on the small of my back like he usually does.

Peering to my right where the green sign glows the strongest, I strain until the words are finally clear behind the screen. In thick olive letters is the name Food Army, and a small giggle comes from me. Brandon's quick to pin his gaze on me and cock an amused brow.

"Sorry, the name's cute." My cheeks flush while my fingers grip the insides of the cardigan pockets. "I wonder what inspired them."

"That isn't the only thing," he muses, his hand working up my back to slide down my arm until he can capture my hand.

I've got no complaints. The more it occurs, the more it grows on me. Although, that merely increases my inquisition over his feelings regarding me, and if anything, I've still got to consider my emotions for him to. I'm certain I like him as far as good friends can, however, I'm sure there are developing feelings and they're enhancing faster with the extended time we share.

"Alright, sweetheart, what piques your interest?"

My body locks into place, and my lips slack. "Y-you. . . you just said—"

I'm confused; one minute the entrance is in front of me, and the next, the view is stolen away to be replaced with a hooded forest gaze. Analysing the situation as fast as possible, it becomes clear my back is pressed against a lamppost, Brandon's body is dangerously close, and his luscious scent is urging me to inhale deeper. To get drunk.

"B-Brandon?"

He breathes out a faint sigh before looking at me again and moving a lock of hair behind my ear. "Tamina, I told you I was going to be the perfect gentleman tonight. . . But if you keep looking at me like that, I'm not going to be able to resist kissing you anymore."

My brain goes static.

"Love, you're doing it again." His voice is soft, and it only affects me more when he inches closer.

I'm breathless, and the longer my eyes are glued to his, the more I'm confident my legs will give in. "What am I doing?"

"Being cute. Your eyes hold so much wonder, longing. . . it's almost irresistible." My eyes drift shut at the sensation of his knuckle tracing the curve of my cheek. "Yes, I called you sweetheart, don't you like it?"

"I do. . . I wasn't expecting it, that's all." I mentally curse the flurry of heat in my cheeks.

"As long as you don't mind, love, then that's fine with me." Glancing over his shoulder, he turns back to me and adds, "Would you like to head in? It's growing chilly."

Nodding dazedly, allowing Brandon to guide me by our interlocked fingers, the new chill dots my skin, and when it goes down to my lungs, it feels fresh. Staring down at our hands, my mind can't get over how weirdly natural it feels, and I'm unable to stop the internal laugh at how eager I am to hold it after our date.

Whenever that may be.

Instead of pondering over what we'll be dining on, I'm too busy considering the kiss he mentioned moments ago, just imagining it. When I'd been against that lamppost, bathing in his warmth, he could've done it then. If not, all I'd have to do was reach up on my tiptoes, and our lips would've met.

Like Brandon said earlier, we can discuss it more over our meal. On the other hand, I'm unsure on how to start. There's no way I'm going to straight up and say to him, 'Hey, I might be catching feelings for you, and I love holding your hand. However, I'm scared this is all too good to be true, and you're secretly taking me for a ride, what do you think?' Damn, if I was alone, I'd face palm myself. It's ridiculous but asking him how he feels might be the better stretch.

"Now, what do you fancy?" He queries for the second time in twenty minutes, his fingers grip the handle to one of the two doors and swings it open.

Heat washes over me like a tidal wave, and a variety of scents battle one another to be the first to my nose. I'm in awe. Spacious doesn't seem to be a good enough match for the area, it's at least the width of three miniature stores and the length of two side by side.

"Oh my God, this place looks amazing!" I gush, stepping fully through the threshold, rotating on the balls of my feet to face Brandon.

"Do you like it?"

My head bobs excitedly while my hands tug him inside. "Yes, come on!"

Our shoes scuff against the navy-blue carpeting, the sound of the equipment clatter and bang around behind the open-planned kitchens, but my eyes are drawn to the floor plan. Along the right side of the perimeter are shoji styled walls instead of doors that give privacy to the benches that can sit up to eight people. My eyes find the cute paper lanterns dotting the outside of the sitting areas, casting soft glows over the furniture. Opposing on the left is the various types of takeout, and above each one is a plaque stating what they are.

"What would you like?"

He chuckles, casting me a humorous look. "Tamina, I asked you, remember?"

A sheepish smile tugs up at my lips. "I don't really know, there's so much to choose from," I exasperate. "The only takeaway I've had is a Chinese. But, since today is special, I'd like to spice it up." Brandon lets out a low chuckle after catching onto my joke, and it brings a joyous smile to my face. "What if you pick three styles you like, and I choose from one of those?"

He makes a small sound in the back of his throat before saying, "Smart and beautiful, I love it."

Using the plaques as a distraction, my brain does everything in its power to turn off the burners in my cheeks, but I'm suspecting he caught the hue taking over. While Brandon chooses, this is the perfect time for me to conjure up some questions for later. At least, that's the plan until the image of his lips come to mind, only they're pressed against mine.

"Is everything alright, love? You seem to have become quite flustered." I'm surprised to hear his voice as he swivels me to face him. "You aren't thinking about a kiss, are you?"

There's a teasing undertone to his words that sets a fire in my stomach and my face, so I look away once again. "I-it's just warm in here, that's all." Clearing my throat, I ask, "Have you found something you would like?"

Inhaling deeply, a chuckle flows free upon his exhale as he leads me along the walk way. "How do you feel about Thai, Indian, or Italian?"

"All three sounds good," I admit, thinking hard between the options. "Would you mind having an Indian?"

"Sounds good to me, sweetheart." He sweeps his gaze over me with a slight shake of the head and a quirk of the lips. "I still can't get over the fact you enjoy spicy food but haven't been exploring."

I laugh. "I know, I'm an odd one. I guess it was a routine for when I ordered, you know?"

Slowly we come to a halt beside our destination. All the previous aromas are dominated by the spices and the other ingredients, and it's making my stomach howl out for a taste. I'm curious to know if Brandon's in the same boat.

"So. . . what do you recommend?" I murmur while skimming over the menu hanging above our heads.

Brandon seems to take pride in the notion I'm asking for his opinion along with some help on the matter, and I'm unable to refrain the grin at the thought of his gentleman ego building up a notch.

"What's your spice tolerance?"

It's almost like he's daring me, and I'm up for it.

Pursing my lips innocently, a shy smile splays across my features as my free hand rubs the back of my neck. "I'd say it's pretty good."

The corner of his lip curls. "In that case, would you like to try a korma?" He runs a hand through his thick locks of mahogany. "With mine, I normally have naan bread with biryani on the side."

I'm growing excited by the minute to try this, and he somehow makes it sound more interesting than it should be.