Only Yours

03. Gifts and Receipts

Tamina

I knew spending the night away with my book was a bad idea, but it's so good. A purchase well done—even though it wasn't mine to make.

Now I'm standing in the middle of a cute shop that's second on my list of favourite spots with its modernised gifts, traditional items, and a stationary section with trinkets. Even the smell is a mixture of the sweet modern day and the musty past. Phase one of the late-night concoction of a plan was to get here before meeting Brandon, second was to find a gift. As my eyes rake the shelves from a distance, the inevitable sinks in.

What the hell do I buy?

Glancing at the cute cat clock, there's twenty-five minutes for me to make it to the book shop. If I hurry, there's a chance I could arrive earlier than we agreed. Would being early be a bad thing? He looks like the type of man who keeps to his times, if not, then I'll have to hide on the corner until it's time.

Inspecting the stock in front of me, nothing pegs me as something he would need or like. Hovering over the stationary area, my sight jams to a halt on the pots displayed on the far end of the table. Scurrying over, catching myself when the corner of the carpet snags my foot before arriving with a squeal of joy at the view of the bookmarks.

It would be perfect; Brandon's come to the library twice now as far as I'm aware, and he's read one of Sylvia Day's books.

On the other hand, there's so many to choose from. Plain single colours, multicolours, texts, patterns, and then the ones that instantly caught my eye: 3D animals. One has a grizzly bear with a woodland background, another has a tree python in a forest, and the last one has a pack of wolves on a mountain's edge.

The wolves draw me in, and that's all I need to hastily pay and slip it inside a cute light pink plastic bag. It's times like this where I'm thankful for the little quaint gift shop, and the thought of him not liking it makes me anxious. Although, the idea was to get him a little something, even if it isn't money, he deserves it. Hopefully he likes wolves.

The distance between me and the book shop steadily closes, and all I'm feeling is anxiety and the faint tickle of the breeze, remembering the last time I hung out with someone from the opposite sex apart from my father was just over a year ago, let alone with any women other than my mother. On the plus side, if this goes well, I'll have good news for them when they return in two days.

In terms of a relationship, meeting someone like my dad— 'Prince Charming' as the women put it—is out of the window for me, and too high of an expectation. Leaning the hard way was the only way I was going to realise that, and I'm just lucky to have learnt it sooner rather than later.

Pausing briefly to flatten my hoodie while the hood sleeps against my shoulders, the word Superstar stands out against the creamy base in thick gold letters. Staring down at my jeans, they aren't too bad regardless of the small wrinkles at the bottom. Glancing at the time at the top left of my screen, a freaked gasp comes from me as my limbs start pumping with only four minutes to reach my destination.

After what feels like a mile, my feet skid to a halt at the sight of Brandon not that far from me with his hands clasped behind his back, and those familiar shades sitting on the bridge of his nose. Upon my arrival, he lets a brief quirk of his lips show.

"You're on time," he greets, sounding surprised.

"Thank God," I huff, catching my breath. "I thought I was going to be late."

He cocks a dark brow. "Why did you think that?"

A sheepish grin lifts onto my face as my free hand pats down my disarrayed hair. "Well, I felt bad that you paid for my book, and I wanted to thank you. . ." Swinging the bag from behind my back, and extending it in his direction with flushed cheeks, I add, "So I got you this."