Only Yours

03. Gentleman

Tamina

For the past ten minutes, I've nattered away, giving Brandon a lecture on the coffee house down the road. It's only when the familiar plump building makes a steady appearance that I conclude my explanation.

The large panes of glass facing us allow a good insight into the warm atmosphere, while the customers have an entertaining view of the outside.

It feels like forever since my last visit, but it's only been a week. The memory of the last time I was here brings a smile to my face as my parents' beaming grins appear.

"Tell me, how long have you been a customer?"

Tilting my head, the day comes back to me as if it were only yesterday. "To be honest, not too long, or at least compared to those who frequent cafés, it's not that long," I chuckle. "It started in my first year of college. There was this girl I met, and she got me into it. . . ever since, I've been hooked."

There's a teasing hitch of his brow.

I hold up my hands, laughing. "Only a monthly treat!"

He chuckles, then his palm slips away from the small of my back while keeping in step with me. It's fascinating to watch his long legs, capable of striding, slow to match my pace.

Oh, the life of the shorties.

"Are the two of you still in contact?"

The question is innocent, but it spurs the familiar grey spell I had during the months that came with the separation from a good friend. When you follow someone blindly, that's the cost.

"Sadly, no," I say, shaking off the forlorn weight as best I can. The smile I plaster on is tight. "How about you? Are there any specific cafés you like to visit?"

There's a moment of pause before his lips part, then nothing comes out. I'm curious as to what he was going to say the first time around, perhaps taking a moment to correct himself. Then he says, "Not yet, but I think this might become one."

Against my will, the skin covering the swells of my cheeks starts to burn. Everyone should find a nice little café to splurge in, and I should feel honoured that I might help Brandon find his, but it doesn't reassure me. Instead, I'm too busy dwelling on getting our wires crossed, the interactions if we bump into one another in the local shops.

"It's weird. With the amount of shops in Hollyhead, you seem to appear a lot."

The words send a wave of nausea through me. Coincidentally, it was my favourite spots where this occurred, like one day I walked into Brooks Books, and he was there, sat at a table with a book in hand. But now that little problem is somewhere six miles from me.

Shaking the memory away, I embrace the sight of two magpies hopping around one another. The light shines blue on their feathers with each shift of their wings, then, as if they've just realised we're watching them, they take off in a hurry.

After a few beats of silence, Brandon clears his throat. With the same courtesy he had yesterday, he holds the door open for me like a gentleman. "What would you like?" he asks, guiding me around a couple rummaging through the refrigerator panels for the perfect sandwich.

The family ahead of us order something they must have every time they visit, judging by how smoothly the order rolls off their tongues. The businessman who's just joined the queue shifts in dire need of a lunchtime fix; his briefcase knocks against his knees while his clipboard is clenched in a tight grip.

In the meantime, I'm grasping the hem of my hoodie while Brandon remains as cool as a cucumber.

Managing to keep my voice soft, I give a short, "Nuh-uh." I hold his shielded gaze. "You bought not one, but two books. It's only fair for me to get the drinks."