The elevator slides open, Brandon and I step out with our hands interlaced. I stifle a giggle when he clamps down on my wrist to stop me from withdrawing my hand and one of my legs shoots out to show him the lace of my sneaker that has come undone.

Brandon crouches to tie the shoelace and my skin flushes when some heads turn in our direction. Their eyes bore into me until he stands to block my view of them and I look at everything but at him. With his arm around my waist, he guides me to the counter where the receptionist sits behind with a sweet smile directed at only Brandon.

For some reason, her flirtatious smile doesn’t bother me neither does her ignoring me, I know he is only affected by my touch and looks. We have spent the last two days exploring each other bodies, welcoming me properly into the sex world. My teeth sink into my lip as memories replay itself all over again and I feel myself getting hot.

Brandon knows how to treat a woman in and out of the bedroom. Hot sex followed by breakfast in bed, warm bath and evening massages. I don’t believe he has a mean streak in his hot, sexy body. His attitude is only a front to scare people, an excuse to keep wallowing in a self-imposed penance for his actions but he doesn’t scare me with his words or confessions. I’m here to stay. Besides, if he so badly wanted to stay alone, he shouldn’t have married me, Pa must have told him how much I want a family of my own.

We have not had any deep discussion since the talk about Eunice but I want to know more. Know what happened with his brother, his family. But it can wait, I don’t want to ruin our evening walk with dreary thoughts. It is the first time I’m coming out since we lodged here and Brandon promised to give me a tour tomorrow, we get along fine now.

I have a strong suspicion that he plans to keep me in throughout the two weeks of our honeymoon, away from the eyes of other men. He didn’t let me answer the door when our breakfast came up and the scowl that took over his lips when I liked a male model picture on Instagram is one I can never forget. He is headstrong, bossy, caring but still annoying. I more than like him, I don’t know if I love him. We have only started getting along but his presence makes me feel certain types of way, unfamiliar but pleasant.

“El,” Brandon calls out to me and I blink.

His finger lingers on my nose after bopping the tip and I smile, I zoned out again. I place a kiss on his lips, he chuckles and gestures in the direction of the pretty receptionist.

“Hi,” I say to her, then look at Brandon who watched the short exchange with a smile.

We are supposed to be outside, on the road, not here with her doing God knows what. I don’t like her. Brandon places my hand on top of his, with his eyes cast in her direction, he says, “Adrienne, meet Elna... Elna Stark.”

A smile works its way to my lips when her eyes widen in recognition of my new last name and her head bobs of its accord. Something akin to respect, maybe jealousy or hate creeps into her eyes and she flashes me an apologetic smile. I am tempted to return her smile with a sneer but it will make me as bad as she is so I nod instead.

Adrienne didn’t say one word to me when we first came in and I’m almost certain that if Brandon didn’t introduce me to her, she will continue treating me the same way, with disregard. I can’t help but think of how many people she might have turned away from the hotel with her snobby attitude. With her looks, she should be working as a model.

Brandon offers me his arm and sends Adrienne a pointed look. “You will accord Elna the same respect as me, is that clear?” She nods. To me, he says, “Dear wife, shall we?”

As soon as we step out of the building, I burst out laughing. This playful side of him has been around since we have been cooped inside, I love it. The look of horror, remorse on Adrienne’s face when he put her in her place is an image I will carry with me forever. There’s a slight stirring in the pit of my belly, I didn’t think he would introduce me to her because I mentioned it only once but it makes me feel warm all over and I squeeze his hand in my grip.

Outside of the hotel is quiet except for the constant swish sound made by the gentle, evening breeze. The pavement is lined with heaps of snow marred by the footprints of people who trailed the path before us. I lift my head to the blue skies briefly and inhale the clean air as we match hand in hand to wherever Brandon says he’s taking me.

A green beanie sits on my head, not a single strand of my hair is in view. The oversized coat on my body protects me from the cold with the muffler around Brandon’s neck and his thick sweater playing the same role.

The silence is comfortable as we walk the empty streets, each of us to our thoughts. I am eager and anxious at the same time to see where this will lead. To me, this is more than an evening walk, it’s our first date. We take a turn by the left and rows of shops come into view. I bring us to a halt when Brandon starts leading us in the direction of a tuck shop, alerted by the sign on their doorpost.

With my hands on my waist, I say, “No. No more coffee. You already took three cups.”

When Brandon makes to walk past me, I jump in front of him with my hands stretched out. That doesn’t deter him, he sidesteps me and resumes his journey to the tuck shop. Hurrying to catch up with him, I wrap my hand around his wrist before he can pull the door open and a shy smile graces my lips when he sends a soft glare my way.

“Brandon, no more coffee,” I state.

Lines appear on his forehead, his lips pucker and he arches an eyebrow. “Why? How do you know I am going there for coffee? I haven’t said anything about that.”

Shaking my head as if to reprimand him, I take a step away from the door and say, “I just know and too much coffee is bad for your health, you take an unhealthy amount.”

Yesterday morning, he had jumped out of the bed with a speed that led me to believe something was wrong only for me to meet him in the kitchen grinding fresh coffee beans like his life depended on it. At that point it became clear to me that one of his reasons for lodging us into a suite was for his coffee, he preferred making it himself.

This morning, he took three cups and nothing else with claims that he was filled up. I hiss at the reminder. Why won’t he when he stuffs himself with coffee instead of real food, then compliments it with supplements. His eating habit is unhealthy, almost scary.

In his defence, he says coffee is like his high, it stops him from consuming alcohol but that amount of coffee a day without real food is dangerous. I am certain it’s the coffee poster that caught his attention, if I don’t know anything about him, I know about his love—obsession with coffee. The shop claims to have the best coffee in the city and Brandon won’t pass by without checking it out. He’s a sucker for coffee, plain black, no creamers, no sweeteners.

He shortens the distance between us and I retreat until my back is pressed against the wall. His head dips, his breath fans my neck and he whispers, “Too much coffee is bad for my health?” I nod shakily, my heart picking up speed. “Is that right, Doctor El?”

My body lights up in response to the kisses Brandon begins to litter all over my neck, trailing a path up my ear for his teeth to gently scratch my earlobe and a shiver runs through me. His fingertip grazes my lower lip, my tongue comes out to wet it and my breathing becomes shallow when he pushes it inside my mouth. He pulls his thumb out, I swallow and blink morosely as his lips come closer to mine, afraid and excited for them to tango. I want to kiss him too but there could be people inside watching us.

The glass doors show us a reflection of ourselves and our contrasting complexions; I swallow. My cheeks are flushed, the beanie on my head has repositioned itself while Brandon’s hair is ruffled, all thanks to my fingers. It’s odd enough that we are not like the usual couples with our different skin tones, kissing in public will only bring more attention to us. At the airport, I had no problem kissing him because it was more private.

My shyness creeps back in and I look away from his face. I will be mortified if anyone sees us kiss or passes me another one of the disapproving looks that seem to be making a round since we stepped out of the elevator together. They had better get used to seeing this interracial couple, I am here to stay, we will make our week-old marriage work.

“Brandon,” I breathe out. My fingers go to his chest with the intention of pushing him off me, instead, they become glued to him. “Brandon... We should go in.”

A bell rings as the door opens and a white, elderly couple steps out, causing him to pull away from me with a frown. Seconds after, a younger couple walk out the door which Brandon stops from closing. The teenagers move to the kerb and instead of continuing on their way, they start making kissy faces at us. A scowl takes over my lips as I try and fail to shoo them away. I turn to Brandon for help but the look on his face shuts me up.

“Brandon...” I murmur when I find my voice while hitting his arm to get his attention. He’s staring at me like he has just seen one of the wonders of the earth. “Let’s go in.”

His body takes the position of his arm on the door, he pulls me impossibly closer to himself, then his lips come down on mine in a kiss that barely lasts a second. I stand there in shock, batting my eyelashes and he releases me before I can recover or return the kiss. Still in my dazed state, I follow behind him into the shop when he tugs on my arm, instantly overwhelmed by the smell of coffee and freshly baked bread which leaves me sighing in contentment.

Embarrassment claws at my throat when I see the number of people inside, their heads turned in our direction as if they had been watching us. This is not a tuck shop, it’s a diner and I trail behind Brandon to an empty booth by the window with my head cast down. He did that on purpose. I hit his arm when he settles down beside him, his brow raises in confusion and I hit him again. That is what he gets for kissing me in public.

Snow begins to fall, the white particles litter the near-empty road and I smile to myself. Something caresses my cheek and my eyes locate the source to Brandon’s thumb. My gaze wanders to his face, he’s smiling down at me with that same strange expression, it has been there for a while but I only started putting much thought to it. Is he tired of my company? I hope not because we are just getting started and I have done no wrong.

A waitress approaches our table, in her hand is a pad and her head bobs like she’s listening to music only her is privy to. Brandon pushes the menu to me without taking a look and I smile in gratitude. There are a lot of items in French but pictures are attached to the side to help people like me understand it better. My French is poor.

There’s a picture of a pastry, whipped cream and caramelised sugar that has my mouth-watering. I love whipped cream, though it’s not the healthiest choice, it’s the only time I take coffee, with lots of cream. A thought occurs to me and I nod, waiting for Brandon to make his order so I can get to work on my plans. No plain coffee for him today.

“Coffee,” he starts, “no cream-“

“No. He wants cream, enough cream,” I cut him off and smile at the waitress whose nametag shows a name I can’t pronounce. “Plenty of cream.”

She smiles a little at me in return as if she’s used to couples arguing over their choice of beverage. I like her. “Cream or Coffee?”

“Coffee with lots of cream,” I murmur.

“Coffee,” Brandon counters. “Only coffee.”

Her smile grows and my eyes remain on her face, I don’t want to look at Brandon just yet until we have made our order. I feel his fingers digging into my trouser, trying to get me to change my mind but I have no intention of backing off. He has to try something new today, even if it’s just once.

“You can both get what you want. We have the whipped coffee for the lady and plain, black coffee for the gentleman,” she states. “There’s also the whipped cream with the berry on top for anyone who might need it.”

My head turns to Brandon; I can imagine him preparing to resist her offer. Stubborn man. I want him to try the whipped coffee, done in the right way, it tastes like heaven.

“Cream or Coffee? Or a little of both?”

In a bored tone, Brandon says, “Coffee.”

“A little of both,” I say. Pointing to the cake-like item on the menu, I add, “this, six.”

Brandon’s face crunches in mild disgust at my sugary choice and I smile inwardly, his scowl will deepen when he finds out what I intend to do to his coffee. The waitress turns to look at Brandon, when he doesn’t counter my choice, she saunters off to get our food.

A cart drives past our window with a young man pushing it, bits of snow settle on his scantily covered body but he pays no mind to it. My eyes widen at his almost empty cart, I tap on the glass in excitement, watching with longing as his figure fades. “I want.”

“You consume a lot of sugar,” Brandon states casually and that’s when I realise I voiced out my desire for the cotton candy in the cart. My eyes lower to my laps briefly, I have never tasted it before. “Too much sugar isn’t good for your health.”

“Sugar is good for the body, I need it,” I say when I lift my eyes to his face and chuckle. “It is better than coffee.”

“Nothing is better than coffee,” he mutters.

On cue, the waitress comes to our booth with a tray which she dumps on our table and hurries off. A smile flits to my face when I see what she has done, there are three cups instead of two. I hold a hand up to stop Brandon from grabbing his plain, bitter coffee and push my whipped coffee in front of him.

“Taste this,” I say, “so you know what you are missing out on. This is the only way to make coffee.”

A small laugh escapes Brandon and his eyes crinkle. “Then you have to taste this first.”

I am already shaking my head at his offer when he shrugs and makes to take his cup. “Okay. A sip for a sip, how’s that?”

~~~

Soooo, I made characters aesthetics for the first time. I like to think I did it right. You can check it out on my IG page: maramartha.author. Elna’s is on the next slide.

PS: if you're a writer, you can join the junewriterswipchallenge, it's a fun way to get to know your characters. The third slide has the picture and it's not too late to join.

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