Tamina

He rubs his jaw for a second, pulling my eyes toward his light stubble before he replies, "I'm being customary. Would you prefer me to call you something else?"

It amazes me how puzzled he sounds, but it also makes me feel bad too.

Sipping on the remnants of my frostino, I clear my throat. "Is it OK if you call me Tamina? Miss Tamina sounds. . . too important." I pause in thought before offering, "It's nice, don't get me wrong, I hope I haven't offended you or anything?"

He chuckles and waves his hand in dismissal. "Tamina it is, and no, you haven't offended me. If anything, I find you. . . I'm not sure how to put it, but remarkable."

My brain buffers to conjure up a response other than a shocked intake of air. When something does come, I ramble, "Or Tam. If not, then Tammy?" When his lips lift at the corner, I carry on, "P-people normally shorten it and what not, it's completely up to you, sorry, I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"I would rather find my own nickname, love."

His tone pulls another gasp from me. It's husky and sounds like something straight out of a book. Damn, what if this is a dream and I'm about to wake up in my bed with a hot sweat?

"H-how come?"

With a confident grin, he says, "It will be more meaningful."

And just like that, my heart is doing that odd flutter while my face is about to explode. It would be something nice if we were to continue these meet ups, and the more time passes, I'm not seeing a problem.

"Howdy, what can I get you?" a man around our age pipes up while jumping from out back.

His hair is rusty toned and permed to the side, freckles dust over his features, and his eyes are like dark oak. Plus, he's tall, maybe an inch or so smaller than Brandon. When my eyes fleet from between the two, my eyes divert to the floor when it sinks in his are busy dragging up and down my body a bit too much for my liking—not that I like being stared at anyway, but there's no need to cause a scene.

"We have a special offer on today! Two for half the price, and a shaving off the meat sections, what do you say?" All the while he rants on about the deals we could have, he pays no attention to Brandon. His brow hitches up at me while I make a pointed look of no interest by analysing a stand full of flyers and magazines across the room.

Suddenly, a strong arm slopes around my waist, tugging me flush against a warm side. Brandon's cologne hits me tenfold, and I'm starting to believe fainting from the power of it is a possibility. It's one of the best things I've ever smelt, but I'm confident I'll be able to get over it—

"You're making my girl uncomfortable," his tone is low, a warning.

And I thought his voice couldn't be any more masculine than it is already.

The worker's lower lip trembles, moisture gathers on his brow before his spine snaps straight, surprising me that it doesn't literally snap from the velocity behind it. "M-my apologies, may I take y-your orders?" he quivers. Even his voice is smaller and shakier than before.

Brandon places our orders, making sure the process is swift, and for the remainder, the man never looks at me, and I don't dare another look at him from that point onward. Letting out a calming breath when he disappears out back, my body relaxes in the comfort the warmth provides, and my eyes grow heavy temporarily while leaning into it.

"Are you alright?"

Peering up through my lashes, I show an appreciative smile. "Thank you for that, I wasn't entirely sure what to do."

His eyes soften. "Of course," he murmurs, giving me a light squeeze.

Before I'm able to stop myself, I'm jumping, completely forgetting I'd been in his embrace the entire time. That, and the notion I'd practically sunk against his body.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to lean on you for so long," I mutter.

Before Brandon has a chance to make a comment, the worker slides our food onto the counter, leaving Brandon to pay. Upon our exit with our orders in hand, the rain continues its parade, only this time, it's picked up the tempo from the faint drips earlier.

We walk through the gap in the sliding doors side by side, and once we're outside, we throw our empty cups in a nearby bin on the corner before looking at one another. His fingers are careful in settling the hood over my head, followed by tucking my hair inside the material for safety. We must've stayed like this for a couple of minutes before he steps to the side with a light gesture of his arm. "Would you like me to get us an umbrella?"

I shake my head while taking a step in a random direction, motioning for him to follow. Our shoes clap against the mini puddles gathering in the grooves of adhesive until we arrive at a sheltered seating spot that overlooks another part of the river. Owners have parked their canoes along the length of the banks, ducks drift elegantly across the surface of the water, and I swear something breached the surface and sent a spray of liquid through the air.

"I hope you don't mind me bringing this up again, I don't mean to sound ungrateful. . . but why do you buy me or us things?" Risking a peek, I'm surprised to see him smiling. "I-I honestly don't have a problem with paying my bit toward things."

Brandon scratches the nape of his neck, appearing to be stumped. "I have no worries about spending money, Tamina, and I want to spend it on you."

Processing his words carefully, one conclusion comes to mind: he's in the above average bank statement.

I feel terrible now.

"Are you. . . are you well off?"

He's silent for a moment. "Does that bother you?"

A sigh slips from me as I walk around him and lean against the wall. "No, although I feel bad that you're spending your money on me. If I have to be honest, I'm more of a spend on others type, it just makes my day seeing people smile," I explain, and he nods.

"I can understand that."

And he truly sounds like he does understand where I'm coming from, and it makes the guilt in my chest shift.

My fingers unravel the end of the wrapper, and my sight strays to the droplets of water. "I just don't want you to think I'm a gold digger or whatever people say these days, that's all."

His footfalls catch my attention as he takes the spot on my right, unwrapping his lunch before shooting a quick glance my way.

"Tamina," he starts seriously, "out of the time I've spent with you, I can clearly see you are nothing like that."

"How do you know?" I whisper.

He chuckles, his arm brushing mine briefly. "I have met my fair share of women like that, and I could tell from a mile away." He turns his view onto the river, sucking in a small breath. "Once in a while, let someone treat you. It makes them happy knowing they have done something for you as well."

My eyes fleet to the floor, guilt eating at me because I'd never thought of it like that sooner. All that's left to do is keep making room for improvements, and I guess this one will be due to Brandon.

"Does this mean you're going to keep up the gentleman thing?" I joke.

"Indeed, it does."

Testing it, I ask, "Would you oppose me for paying half?"

Brandon chuckles. "I guess this means we will have to come to some sort of arrangement, doesn't it?"

"I think it does."

We settle into a comfortable silence while eating away, sharing a couple of words here and there over the sound of the rain. Unable to stop myself, my eyes take a few sneaky glances at him, thinking back to everything that's happened so far, more so now that we've just caught the other looking at the same time. He's been kind, open, and interested in everything I've said, no matter how high or low it could take the mood.

A weird feeling sits on my chest, and I'm not sure what it is or what I should do about it. After, a sickening feeling ploughs into me. With only having seconds of it, I take back the fuzzy feelings trying to worm their way in. Nothing past friendship is going to happen, not with anyone, and not with him. My heart sinks, hating the mix of emotions swirling inside me.

"Hey, Bradnon?"

"Yeah?" He takes the last bite of his panini.

After swallowing the remains of mine along with disappointment, I inform, "I'll probably have to make a move in a bit, I have work tomorrow."

He nods, lips faintly curving down at the corner. "Would you like me to walk you home?"

Pondering over it for a few seconds, something deep down tells me to reject the offer, but my lips can't help but sport a smile. "I would love that, thank you."

Throwing away our rubbish in the bin, he resumes his role of leading me by the small of my back, and for whatever reason, it doesn't feel strange anymore. Normal is the word that comes to mind the more it lingers on the idea.

Everything is starting to feel different now he's around.

"Hey, Brandon?"

"Yeah?"

I giggle at our repeated use of words, and judging by his expression, he notices as well.

"I enjoyed today, it's the most fun I've had in a while," I admit, knowing my cheeks are flushing.

When my street comes into view, a glumness casts over me. My feet jam into the concrete. For an odd reason, I don't want to part from him, but I know I've got to quit whatever this is in my head. If I pursue it, hurt will follow and I'm sure I won't be able to take it.

"That's good to know," he retorts, and if I'm not mistaken, there's a small note of relief in his tone. "And I've had a pleasant day with you as well."

Before I know it, my door is beside us, signalling it's time to say goodbye.

Brandon hands over the bag with my belongings tucked inside, our fingers brush for a split second. My cheeks flare up, leaving me to turn my face from him.

"Um. . ." Fishing out my phone without thinking, my nerves dancing on the surface while fiddling with the case."

"What is it?" Brandon prompts, tone light with a hint of expectancy.

Shuffling from one foot to the other, I gather up my courage and say, "D-do you want to exchange numbers? I mean, if we ever go to the book shop, or—"

"I would love to."

I don't care about turning scarlet right now, I'm too pleased he didn't decline.

Being careful, he inserts his number and hands the device over. "Message me whenever you want, I will get back to you."

The confident words assure me that he's all for it. A pleasing emotion filters through me, and I relax.

"Thank you, Brandon. . . I guess this is goodbye, for now," I murmur, spinning the key around inside the case.

The rain comes to a standstill, and the earthy scent tickles my nose, and that alarms me.

"I almost forgot!" Placing the bag and my phone between my legs to unzip the jacket and slide the hefty material down my shoulders, I extend it to him. "Thank you for letting me borrow this."

"No problem." He's swift in notching the zip up to lock it onto his body, his shades linger on me in the process. "I better take my leave. Have a good evening, Tamina."

I smile. "You too, Brandon."

"What time do you finish work?"

I wonder why he's asking that. . .

"Three, why?"

"Let me take you out to dinner, tomorrow."

I nearly stumble, the ground feels like it's shaking. Of all things, why did he have to ask that? Now he's going to put a wedge in our day when I was looking forward to the next time, and now he's walking on thin ice. A shameful part of me wants to break the stupid vow I made to myself back then, to throw myself into his arms and hold on to see what else he can offer.

But what if he doesn't mean for a date? I could be acting silly over nothing. It could be another day like this one.

"Dinner?"

He nods, taking a step in my direction. "Mhm, I want you to come on a date with me."

My heart feels as if it's going into overdrive. It's a date. An actual date. I'm not sure what to do, and should now even be a time to start? Hell, I've loved the time we shared today, but can I even give him the answer he wants?

"A date?"

Brandon chuckles, stopping on the step below mine, his head still reaching over mine. I still can't get over how tall he is.

"Yes, Tamina," he breathes, "a date. Will you go with me?"

I can feel myself becoming impossibly shy, my face is boiling so much that it might be possible to cook an egg on it. My mind and heart are screaming two different things at me, and the longer I stare at him, the harder it is to know which one is right anymore.

No harm came to me, he was the perfect gentleman by listening, joking, and offering to do what I fancied. Nothing bad occurred—apart from my slip up, the spillage of drinks, and almost stealing his jacket—but that was natural.

"I've never. . . I'm not sure."

"Tamina, love, we had a wonderful day, didn't we?"

My head bobs in response.

"Let's try it, see what happens," he proposes. After my hesitance to answer, he smiles, taking me by surprise. "If it makes you feel any better, there will only be dinner and talking involved." He slips down his shades. "I will be the perfect gentleman."

I can't help but laugh. "When aren't you?"

He chuckles and slides them up the bridge of his nose while taking a step back.

"OK. . . we can try that. Shall I meet you at the book shop after work?"

Shaking his head and sucking in a short breath, almost like he wasn't prepared for that response, he murmurs, "No, love. Have some time to relax, I can pick you up at five, if that suits you?"

A smile graces my features. "That sounds good to me. I shall see you at five."

"Have a good evening, Tamina."

"You too." As he backs down the last step to stroll away, in time, I call, "It isn't anything romantic, right?"

Rotating on the heels of his shoes, he replies loud enough for me to hear, "No." Then there's a faint curl of his lip as he adds, "But who knows."

With that, I watch as he spins round to vanish down the corner at the end of the street. Sighing, I shut the door, locking out the intruding cold and lean against it in disarray as my mind reals about what a day it has been. Friendships and dates.

A date. A real date.

I can't wrap my brain around it. This means I'm going to have to dress nicely and do my best to keep any further accidents like today's under wraps. As much as he said date, my gut is telling me it will be more like today, just later and dinner, at least I hope that's what it will be. Although, my stomach is doing flips and everything is hazy in a dream state. There's two ways it can go, but he genuinely seemed like a man who wants to know me.

Six hours tick by and sleep finally approaches, but the memory of Brandon's number hiding in my contacts has me clinging onto consciousness by a thread.

Inhaling deeply, my fingers swipe up the gadget on the bedside cabinet before unlocking it. Clicking the contact icon, my eyes freeze on his name. Brandon. I'm not sure how long I've been staring at it for, but I know the only way he's going to be able to receive my number is if I text him.

Biting my lip, I click on his tab.

To Brandon: Hello, it's Tamina. I just wanted to send you this, so you have my number for the future. Anyway, thank you for today, it was fun, and have a good evening. I'll see you tomorrow :)

Minutes must've passed by before I'm nosing at the time, seeing it turning to 22:47 p.m. He's more than likely fast asleep, which is what I should be doing, but the vibration in my palm has me looking back at the screen, and a small smile breaks free.

From Brandon: Thank you, have a good night, Tamina. I can't wait to see you tomorrow.

With that, the phone is returned to the bedside cabinet, and I settle down on my pillow with a light feeling in my chest.

Maybe tomorrow won't be that bad after all.