Only Yours

02. Not a Date

Brandon

I'm in deep shit.

Meeting her wasn't supposed to happen. Being curious wasn't on the list.

I should have stayed away, left the day she swooped in in the past—left her in the past where she belongs. But I couldn't.

She went out of her way to help someone she didn't know, piquing my interest. I should have taken it as a sign there's some good in humanity after all, but it sucked me in. Tempted me. Now it is all I can think about.

Did she know what she was doing? Does she know who I am?

I force my head still, resisting the urge to shake it. There was no sign of shock, no remembrance until I mentioned the encounter. To my disbelief, her intentions were true after all.

That niggling part within me wants to see if there's more, and it wants to study.

Unlike those I've encountered throughout my life, the strange woman, Tamina, has something about her; she comes from the land of simplicity; I come from the planes where the apex of humanity resides.

"Are you alright? You haven't said much since we arrived."

Coming round from my thoughts, I offer the best smile within my capabilities for now. "Sorry, you were saying?"

"Well, Michelangelo. . ."

Clearing my throat, I fade between the gentle chatter floating through the dimly lit room. The candlelight provides warmth, reminding me of the radiant smile Tamina offered the bookshop boy.

Scrutinising the smiles dotting the room, I know they hide secrets. Each gesture is filled with the hope of gaining something. One way or another, someone from each party will leave with a business deal or a promise of pleasure.

She wouldn't survive in an environment such as this.

I still recall how her cheeks flushed, an act of shyness, innocent. The faces glowing in the embers are void of colour other than the painted complexions. Not a single trace of doubt.

I don't think anyone in this entire restaurant even knows the word—

Footsteps break the chatter filling the interior. The waiter's slicked-back dark hair contrasts with his suit. The pristine sheets are humbled by his towering shadow in the flickering flame perched in the centre. I can tell he's been at work for a while; his hair isn't quite stuck in place, and the bow tie is off-kilter by a few degrees.

His blue eyes take us in, a nervous but kind smile gracing his features as he extends a bottle of Dom Pérignon Vintage. "More wine?"

When he shifts, the angles of his suit don't go with him; rather, they bunch or hang in a way that screams it's two sizes too big for him.

Knowing this is the boy's first time—if not his first week here at Cibo Rosso, I go as far as to offer a slight smile while shaking my head. I'm still nursing a full glass from when it was freshly poured from the bottle.

I'm curious if Tamina has ever tried wine, if she liked it on a casual night with dinner. If she secretly visits restaurants on a night out.

I find my mind straying to her again, trying to figure out the kind of woman she is. I don't take her for a businesswoman, but looks can be deceiving. She was dedicated, putting work before a date.

I want to solve this enigma.

I dig my fingertips into my temples, glancing at my phone.

I'm stuck in a bubble, and I need to know if there's a way out.