Only Yours

04. Choices

Tamina

Spits of clear liquid begin to drip from the heavens, dotting the pavement around our feet. The patter on the leaves inches from my head is calming, and the fresh scent mingling with the wet leaves becomes earthy. With the mixture of smells and noise, the view becomes all the more beautiful.

Sighing, I close my eyes, letting it consume my senses. Let it comfort me until my heart cease its gallop.

When I finally open them, in my peripheral, Brandon's watching me while his hands busy themselves with wiping the shades' lenses. With one last look at his eyes, the barriers are slipped into place.

"What would you say your favourite weather is?"

He takes a moment to adjust his hood, a small smile dancing on his lips. "Judging by your expression, you must like the rain."

Bashfully stopping the absent trail of my finger through the gathering droplets beside my leg, I release a small exhale. "You got me." I chuckle. "But now it's your turn to tell me."

Shaking his head, he copies my action from seconds ago. "I have been a summer person for a long time." He pauses, tilts his head to the side, then adds quietly, "But that doesn't mean I can't find another to enjoy."

Climbing to his feet, I follow his every move until I spot the outstretched hand.

"Come, we shall grab some food."

Hastily pushing from the bench, I use his help to stand upright. Only, the world makes a mockery of me as the sole of my shoe loses friction on the concrete, and my hold on his palm falters.

I shriek, throwing my hands up to shield my face. Only, everything freezes, and I'm suspended by a sturdy arm hooked around my waist. A shaded gaze slides into view, and my fingers curl into the material over his chest like my life depends on it. Muffled gasps escape me as I try to catch my breath, thankful he caught me.

Our breaths are exchanged, eyes locked through the dark shields cast over his, and his thumb works soothing circles through the layers of clothing covering my hips. No words are uttered.

After a few beats, he finally speaks, worry underlining his tone. "Are you alright?"

Calming myself with a deep breath, I say upon an exhale, "Yes. . . sorry."

Too stunned to say much else, I crane my neck to see the culprit.

A soggy leaf.

One second I'm dipped, the next I'm flat on my feet. We clear our throats and take a big step back from one another. Beside us, there are swirls of tanned coffee and pale frappe seeping into each other. The rain merely expands the liquid.

I want to crawl in a hole and stay there for the rest of my life.

Scuffing the floor with the side of my shoe, I mumble, "I can get you another coffee if you would like? I'm sorry for spilling your drink."

My eyes widen when his fingers come under my chin, notching it enough for our eyes to lock over the rim of his shades. "I'm fine," he assures. "There is enough left. Don't worry yourself." Taking a step back, his eyes are hidden once more. "I can get us refills if needed."

The rain dampens the humiliation pooling in the pits of my stomach. Freezes the memory of how I felt the ridges of muscle on his bicep, the firmness of his chest. My heart thunders within its cage as I curse myself for even thinking about it.

"I'm truly sorry. I thought the shoes would've been fine for the weather." Normally they are, hence the reason I use them for work. "I'm normally not this embarrassing."