06. First Rodeo

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Tamina

Spits of clear liquid begins to drip from the heavens, dotting the pavement around our feet. The soft patter on the leaves inches from my head is calming, and the fresh scent mingling with the plants soon become earthy. The noise, the smell, and the view with the rain is comforting and all the more beautiful. In my peripheral vision, Brandon's watching me while scrubbing the lenses of his shades and slipping them on once again.

"Hey, what would you say your favourite type of weather is?"

He takes a moment to adjust his hood, a 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, a small sigh comes from me as I say, "You got me, now it's your turn to tell me."

Shaking his head in amusement, he copies my action from seconds ago. "I have been a summer person for a long time." Stopping his movements, tilting his cranium to meet me, he adds, "But that doesn't mean I can't find something else to enjoy."

Diverting my gaze to my beverage to take a swig, brushing the stray strands sticking to the sides, my lips can't help but tug up at his comment. Brandon swiftly climbs to his feet, causing my head to snap up and my body to automatically follow as he outstretches a hand for me to take.

"Come, we shall grab some food."

Even though I'm using his help to stand straight, the world decides now is the time to make a mockery of me as the soul of my shoe loses friction on the concrete, and my hold on his palm falters.

I curse luck and my clumsy body!

Before harshness can strike, something strong curls around my waist. Shades slide into view as my head cranes back, and my fingers grip his hoodie likes it's my lifeline, still mesmerised by the fact he caught me.

Small breaths are exchanged, our eyes connect through the dark shields he sports, and his thumb soothingly works through the layers of clothing covering my hip. No words are uttered for a minute until he breaks the silence.

"Are you OK?" he asks with worry underlining his tone.

Calming myself with a deep breath, I say upon letting it out, "Yes. . . sorry." My brain's still too stunned to let any more come out.

After a few minutes pass, Brandon sets me upright, double checking I'm steady before completely letting go. Staring at the floor only to discover swirls of tanned coffee and pale frostino seeping into one another. Internally cringing at the mess, hating how I've wasted our drinks over something ridiculous.

Scuffing the floor, I mumble, "I can get you another one, if you'd like? I'm sorry for spilling your drink."

He settles his finger below my chin before tilting it enough so I have to meet his gaze, he releases me and says, "I'm fine, there's still some left. Don't worry yourself, Miss Tamina." He clears his throat and smiles. "I can get us refills if it's needed."

Humiliation is a majority of what's pooling in the pit of my stomach, that, and the fact I'm still able to recall the ridges of muscle on his biceps against me; his heat, his scent. . . it was overwhelming. My heart's still hammering away in my ribcage, breaths shallow as I mentally curse myself for flushing. Although, the new found urge to get closer to him has me feeling a whole new load of shock, even though that's a place I'm never going to.

Bracing myself with a shaky smile, I pipe up, "Yes, sorry, I was just a little startled."

Accepting my excuse, Brandon places his palm against the small of my back, guiding me away from the spillage, knowing the rain will gradually sweep it down the drain.

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