Tamina

"OK, OK." I run my fingers through my hair, avoiding eye contact at all cost. "I was putting it away after reading it for the hundredth time, but there was a large spider sitting on it."

I wince, coming to a standstill at a miniature knot. Easing the strands apart, I take note of the smile twitching at the corner of his mouth—a sign he's enjoying himself, even if it is at my expense. I'm merely thankful he stops staring and returns to his investigation.

In the small time we're sharing together, Brandon is the type of guy I've never interacted with before, which is unnerving. Not because he falls into the category of company you want to keep, but because I can't get a good read on him. I talk, he mostly listens. I ask, he offers minimal answers.

So far, he has manners, patience like an angel, and knows how to be confident around other people.

"How did you ruin your book?"

I'm more curious about what he's after. While he's been scrutinising every title with me, he hasn't picked up a single one.

Nevertheless, I brave the question with a nonchalant shrug. With that, I explain how my bad luck fell into effect—how the eight-legged terror spooked me into spilling my food, and the book became a soppy mess and tore in various places.

To my surprise, Brandon listened to every word. If this were someone else I knew, they would tell me to grow up.

"So, what happened to the spider?" The inquisitive hue to his tone is light, layered with humour.

If it weren't for the pride swelling in my chest, I would be mortified.

Beaming at the books before me, I say, "I managed to summon up enough courage to do the same to the spider."

There's no response, but the second I peek over my shoulder, there's a raised brow waiting for me.

"It went up the hoover."

He chuckles, swivelling to his shelves. I don't miss the way he runs his fingers through the hair hiding under the hood.

Silence falls over us once more, leaving me to ponder what else could be shared, only this time, I want to encourage him to talk.

With a deep inhale of woody vanilla and the scrape of wood against my fingertip, I bob my head in silent acceptance.

I will make him talk.

"Anyway. . ." Pulling out a chunky novel, I skim over the description before putting it back. "What brings you here?"

"I came to find you."

My finger jerks to a stop. A good-looking man like Brandon was seeking me out. Me.

I've never felt my face burn as much as it is right now. If this were a sunny day where I'd be more put together, I wouldn't be this embarrassed. At least without the damp clothes and static hair, I'd be somewhat better to look at.

"Thank you," I murmur, hooking another lock behind my ear. "But you didn't have to."

"I did." The response is clipped, his stance rigid, and for once, the silence is tense.

Maybe getting him to talk wasn't a good idea.

Shuffling from one foot to the other, my eyes widen at the colourful spine crammed between a mossy green and a leather-bound notebook that shouldn't even be there. Retrieving it from its slot, a pale background supporting a cluster of peach and white roses stares back up at me. To top it off, the title is in cursive.

Flipping it over, the description promises rivalry, and a love so rocky the scales could tip in either direction. Knowing what I need to be pulled in, I keep it in my hand while resuming my search for my intended target.

Where is it?

A sinking feeling settles in my gut, but there's still the bottom shelf to go.

"What do you have there?"

Pausing mid-crouch, I peer up at Brandon as my thumb traces over the title.

"Obviously a romance," I start, a small smile splaying across my lips. "It mentions rivalry and the promise of love, but it's not the kind you find within the first handful of chapters."

The characters are going to have to work for it. And that's the best kind; seeing them work through their problems and reaching the end goal never fails to hit something soft inside.

He sinks to my level, his arm inches from mine. My body tenses while my brain is on a treadmill. This entire encounter has been mind-boggling. I want to know what he's thinking, but I doubt it's much. The words he says don't appear to have an effect on him, which makes me wonder why doing something like this with someone like me would make him bat an eye.

I clear my throat. "Do you see anything you like?"

The wood groans as he shifts further to his right, creating a chunk of space between us.

"I'm not sure." There's a pause. "I'll let you know if I do."

Reaching the end of my shelf, my brows furrow at the silence. I'm not even sure if the tables on the other side of this maze are still in use. Usually, someone sneezes, or there's that typical thump of a chair leg colliding with the table.

Coming to the end of my search, I stretch my cramping limbs. Peering over my shoulder toward the clock mounted down the opposing end of the aisle, the hands read quarter to four. Jerking back to Brandon, he's so engrossed in his search that he hasn't even noticed me jumping to my feet.

Even when he's crouched, he still keeps the perfect posture; straight spine, head inclined, and hands braced on his knees.

Time has flown by. It feels as if it were only twenty minutes ago that I entered the building. Then again, the time was filled with company, and that alone brings a wave of joy.

"Um. . . the time's getting on," I announce, catching his attention. "I think I'd better make a move."

His eyes brighten under the light, turning them almost grassy as they peer up at me.
Brandon rises to his full, towering height in one fluid motion, instantly reminding me of how small I am. "I'll walk you out."

He steps aside for me to lead the way through the maze. I don't miss how his black trainers are a stark contrast to the creamy mocha carpet beneath our feet. His footsteps are confident and centred while mine are shuffled in hopes of avoiding tripping face-first in front of him.

Once we emerge from the stacked maze, we come to a brief standstill. Clutching the book closer to my chest, I squeak, "I'll pay for this, then I'll be right with you."

Before he has a chance to respond, I'm scurrying around the tables, apologising when I knock a table with a group of students reading, duplicates of the same book in hand.

I've never tried a book club before; I wonder if it's easier, or simply more fun.

Approaching the desk, a bright pink banner stretches across the front, contrasting with the pine. Bold yellow letters with a golden edge spell out Valentines Day.

Below it in cursive with similar tones, there's an inscription.

Dinner for two, coming this Valentines Day!

Shifting my attention to the surface, I drop the book on top with more force than necessary, startling whoever is hiding behind it.

There's a brief clatter, then the rustle of paper. "Howdy, what can I do for you today?"

On the way up from behind the large block of wood, there's a thud of a cranium clipping the lip of the furniture, and I wince, leaning over to check on him.

I knew it was Quinton by the jolly greeting rather than when his mop of carroty curls came into view. When he notices me, his freckle-dusted cheeks puff up with a grin.

"Hey, Quin, it's only me," I relay, returning a smile of my own.

His hazel eyes sparkle. "Tamina!" He jumps to his feet, hands braced against the wood. "How have you been?"

Playing with the loose splinter in the wood, enjoying the otherwise smooth surface, I shrug. "Same old, but no complaints. It's my day off, so I thought I would swing by for a book."

Using the tips of my fingers, I wiggle the book of interest by its two bottom corners.

"How about you?"

Quinton bobs his head, causing a few spirals of his hair to bounce. Notching his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose, he inspects the cover. Then he analyses the description with a thoughtful inclination.

"Hmm, sounds interesting." His eyes flick to me once he sets it down. "Let me know how it goes."

I grin, knowing he knows I would even if he didn't tell me to.

"I haven't seen you in a while. I thought we were going to have to put up a missing poster or something," he teases, and I can't help but laugh.

"Actually, I came in yesterday after work," I chuckle. "I'm sorry I didn't stop by for long."

He waves it off. "It's fine, it was my day off anyway. But Mum said she saw you helping someone with their things, but you had gone before she could come over." His eyes warm behind his glasses. "Mum told me to say hello in case you came in. She had a feeling you would."

"Tell her I said the same, and I'll make sure to catch up with her soon," I gush.

A peaceful silence passes between us, then his eyes drop to the book. "What did you come in for originally?" He wraps his knuckle against the desk. "I can see if it's on our system."

The sigh of relief that bubbles up within me is nothing compared to the hope I feel deep down.

If he could find it, that would be amazing.