Only Yours

0.1

Tamina

I swallow.

I'm pleased to know that little piece about him, a clue that his birthday will fall near the end of the year. However, the chance to decipher what his words are supposed to mean is taken away as he lightly nudges me toward the bench. Reaching for the pocket of my cardigan, I shift from one foot to the other as I peer up at Brandon. "Do you mind if I take a picture of this?"

For a moment, he doesn't say anything. He merely regards me as if I'm a puzzle he can't work out. I'm not sure how to feel about that, but I don't change the question because I genuinely want a picture so I can look back on this moment.

"Of course, but why?" he returns, and the tone of his voice is genuine, not a conversation filler, as I snap a beautiful shot of the view laid out before me.

I smile, more to myself, as I say, "So that way I have something physical to show that I really lived the moment, and that way the memory doesn't have to be stuck in the past."

I'm embarrassed when he doesn't say anything for the second time around because I'm not sure if he's thinking that's a good way of thinking or silly. I don't question it; rather, I take my seat and look up at him with joy.

Clearing his throat, he finally sits across from me and remarks, "That's actually a nice thought."

I gawk at him, then a silly smile splatters across my face. "Thank you."

Tracing one of the many petals, I take the small red bud into my fingers, savouring the softness. Setting it down, I offer a shaky smile when I notice Brandon watching me from across the table.

"Can I ask you something?"

My knee bounces in anticipation at what his response could be, and it worsens as the seconds go by.

"What would you like to ask?"

Swallowing, I straighten up enough so it isn't obvious I'm quaking in my boots. "This isn't a fluke, is it?"

His brows crease in the centre. "What do you mean?"

A nervous laugh bubbles up. "W-well, like some kind of passing fascination?" Dragging my hand through my hair, I add hastily so he doesn't get the wrong idea, "I'm trying not to be rude, I'm sorry; I just can't believe this is real, you know? That someone like you would be interested."

I don't add the last part because the conversation is taking a whole spiral on its own.

My eyes drop to my hand where his is now covering it, then flick back to him. The warmth is comforting, and I may be foolish for doing it, but I allow myself to indulge in it a little longer.

"Tamina, my intentions with you are honest; I think you're a kind woman, and I want to know more about you, what you like. Like I said, you are in control; I will follow your lead," he murmurs, stroking the back of my hand with the side of his thumb.

Scrutinising him now, everything seems sincere, from the way his brows pull together over softened eyes, the slight smile tugging at his lip, and the gentleness in the way he's treating my hand. I'd be damned if I didn't say how affectionate it comes across—how endeared I feel.

Slowly, I take a breath and release it, and whisper, "Thank you, Brandon, for answering. I'm sorry for asking such a thing. . . I was never treated like this before, so it makes me wonder sometimes, that's all."

For a moment, his face is vacant of anything. Not a hint gives away what he's thinking, but the throat clear suggests he's snapping out of whatever it is.

Before I can ask if he's alright, footfalls echo on the other side of the shoji.

"Sorry for the wait," Raphael greets as he enters our section. "We hope you enjoy, and if you have any problems, don't hesitate to come and get us."