No Time To Doubt

Style: Wholesome, First Meeting, Non-Erotic, Relationship-Focus, Wallflower

*****Chapter 1*****

I've always been a second-guesser. Every decision I make takes an age of back-and-forth internal dialogue. Even when I'm doing something I know I'm good at, I still make myself double-check everything, run through all the possible ways it could come unstuck, re-examine my previous decisions before I can build on them. I think that's part of what makes me good at what I do - a blessing and a curse.

When you second-guess everything, it leads you down a path of taking less risks, ignoring your instincts and following the sensible option instead. Someone like me does pretty well at schoolwork, setting a high bar early and developing a fear of failure. Being around a lot of friends but never getting too close. Getting a degree in a technical and reasonably well-paid field, and spending a few years going from strength-to-strength in a career most people admire before the pervading feeling of discontent finally builds up enough to overcome your risk-aversion so you summon the courage to quit your job and pursue your passion of writing songs.

That is how I found myself in another country with the rest of my band, at the pre-drinks for a music awards ceremony. We weren't up for an award - I think we only got invited because one of New Zealand's most famous musicians was slated to receive a Lifetime Achievement award, and the producers of the TV broadcast wanted a 'young Kiwis in the audience' shot to cut to for half a second while he walks up to the stage.

Still, the pre-drinks was fun enough. A villa-style homestead opening up onto a wide, mostly-flat lawn, bordered by neatly manicured hedges along the boundary to keep the partygoers hidden from the paparazzi down on the street. Naturally, me and the band were out on the lawn juggling a soccer ball (I think Americans call it keepie uppie?), trying not to get the knees of our suit pants so dirty that it wouldn't rub off by the time we got to the red carpet. We got a few weird glances from the other guests, especially when a wayward ball would bump against the legs of someone delicately holding a champagne flute while socialising with the other civilised folk, but hey - it was fun. Networking was never my strong suit anyway, so it's not like I would have been doing anything else except chatting to my band, and after the last 6 weeks of touring we'd already run out of things to talk about.

That was when She showed up.

"Ugh, finally some real people... Do you mind if I join?"

"Sure," I smiled as we shifted our circle to make room. She had kicked off her heels when she came out onto the grass, and dropped them by her feet while taking the last sip of her champagne. Adopting a wide stance in readiness, the slit in her silky black dress rode up.

"Oops, I'm not used to this," she laughed while half-heartedly straightening it. "I'll try not to flash anything I shouldn't," she announced.

"I'll try not to notice," I responded off-handedly. I don't know if you would call that smooth, but I was a little surprised something like that came out of my mouth.

It earned me a quick sidelong glance. "A true gentleman," she commented dryly, one eyebrow raised.

"A man can try..." I replied, using my best 'I'm a nice boy, look at me being non-threatening' face. I'm not sure how much of that translated before the ball was in the air and it was all action-stations.

She was very expressive, a lot of yelping and whooping, lunging for last-ditch efforts and cheering on the odd occasion it actually worked. We even attracted a couple of onlookers. Eventually we had to stop - suits are uncomfortably hot when you are dancing around in the evening sun, and even we weren't shameless enough to show up to the ceremony all sweaty.

"I'm going to get a drink, do you want one?" I enquired while easing my collar. The rest of the band were already nursing half-drunk beers.

"Sure, I'll come with you," she smiled.

I was pleasantly surprised and happy for her company, until the second-guessing reared its head. She isn't coming with you for your company, she is probably just trying to make sure you don't spike her drink. I put it behind me as we wandered into the house, joining the line for the makeshift open bar.

"So, did you see anything you shouldn't?" she gave another sidelong smirk and raised eyebrow.

"I managed to keep my eyes on the game. It was hard enough keeping track of the ball with some of the flailing coming from your half of the circle." To be fair, none of us were that great at soccer, but she seemed like she would be fun to tease.

A cheeky grin flitted across her face. "Hey, don't fault my commitment to the team okay?" Then with mock seriousness: "Also, you didn't technically answer the question."

"Okay, maybe there were a couple of flashes of skin that caught my attention but I was very quick to correct my glances." I could feel myself starting to blush, and I hoped she put it down to the exercise.

"My hero," she let out a sarcastic laugh, her cheeks slightly warmed as well, probably from the heat.

One of the annoying things about hanging out with this type of crowd is that you never know if someone expects you to know who they are already, and take offence if you ask them their name. So I didn't. It didn't really cross my mind to introduce myself first.

"I'm Cara," she said, holding out her hand. I shook it. It was awkwardly formal but we powered through. "I like your accent, are you from Australia or New Zealand?"

"Want to guess?"

She thought a bit. "I'm worried if I get it wrong you'll hate me," she laughed.

"Yeah a bit," I said, teasing (mostly). "I'll give you a hint - I'm from the better one."

At her expression of consternation I decided it was in my best interest to expand on my hint, listing off features: "Australia is big... They do a lot of mining... They're richer... The people are more extroverted. New Zealand is small. It has lots of forests... Rains a lot... That's about it," I laughed. "So, which do you think is better? And yes, I will be judging you based on your answer."

She mulled it over for a bit, while I deliberately kept my poker face to avoid giving any clues. "Well, obviously New Zealand...", she ventured, then seemed relieved when I nodded the affirmative. "Whoo, I passed the test!", followed by a tiny fist pump.

We chatted for a bit. She laughs easily. She is from Canada, also a musician, doing a tour off a solo record with some hired backup musicians to help play the songs live. We did the usual 'I'll add your music to my list of stuff to check out' talk.

"I'm so glad I found you guys. My publicist makes me go to a bunch of these parties but the people are always so stuck-up and fake. Everyone seems to take themselves so seriously."

"Yeah, it's like if they break the illusion of being all glamourous and stuff their whole famousness will disappear." Not the most elegant of sentences, but it got the message across.

By this point we had our drinks (we got matching cocktails) and made our way back outside to the band. What followed was a somewhat embarrassing conversation where they all tried to subtly talk me up in front of her, to which she gracefully played along, acting suitably impressed and interested in hearing their stories about me (not that I had much exciting to share). It came time to take the provided transport to the actual venue, so naturally I suggested she share a ride with us. Turned out we had enough in our group to take one of the event limo's - I was glad I wasn't paying for it.

During the ride we had a discussion about potential ways to improve housing affordability - an issue in both countries and a topic my bassist is particularly passionate about. Cara seemed thankful to have something substantive to talk about that wasn't just the latest fashion trends or controversy amongst the celebrity class.

When we got to the red carpet we walked up in a big group, none of us famous enough to attract undue attention. Her allocated seat was on the other side of the theatre to ours, and as the usher pointed her away I started wondering how I should broach the subject of maybe seeing her again when she turned around and said innocently, "Would you want to meet up after this?"

"Sure!" I replied, and she broke into a smile before turning to rush off to her seat with a "Cool, I'll see you later."

I spent the whole awards ceremony questioning whether I was enthusiastic enough in my response to convey that I actually did want to meet again, and cursing myself for forgetting to exchange phone numbers, worrying about how I was going to find her in the crowd.

*****Chapter 2*****

After the ceremony, my bandmates went to take advantage of the complementary refreshments table, where a throng of attendees were milling around. Meanwhile, I wandered around the tables searching for Cara while trying not to look too desperate.

I heard someone call my name, and turned to see New Zealand's most decorated musician, Lifetime Achievement trophy still fresh in his hand. An elder statesman, he was glad to see another Kiwi. I was surprised to learn he knew who I was - even in New Zealand my band isn't world famous, and I'm not even the frontman - but he had a lot of kind words to say about our music which, to my shame, I was unable to repay with my full attention, too distracted by scanning the room over his shoulder, looking for Cara.

I felt a touch on my arm, and looked down to see her, a delicate smile as she held out a near-identical copy of the cocktail we had ordered at the pre-party, one of her own grasped in her other hand. "I took the liberty of getting us another round," she winked. Yes, she straight-up winked at me, but I was too relieved at seeing her to process that at the moment.

"Ah, so this is who you have been looking for," Elder Statesman said good-naturedly, before turning to Cara. "You know, this whole conversation his head's been on a swivel, now I understand why..."

"Is that so?" she looked at me as she said it, a smirk of victory on her face. I was beginning to wonder if that raised eyebrow ever came down.

I declined to answer that, instead introducing her. She congratulated him on his award, which he downplayed with classic Kiwi modesty, but I could see he was secretly quite chuffed. I explained to her that, along with the stuff that made it overseas, he was involved in what I consider to be the greatest album ever made by a New Zealander, and it seemed like he wasn't quite sure how to respond to that compliment, having already played the modesty card. I considered that a win, making up for my earlier distractedness.

"Well, I will leave you two to it," he bowed out. "Make sure you keep her around" were his parting words to me.

After he left, she turned to face me. "So... divided attention, huh? Couldn't last a few minutes without me?" She looked very pleased with herself.

"Hey, you're the one who brought drinks over. You found me, not the other way around," I said defensively.

"Well, maybe I just felt a sense of obligation after you gave me a ride here." She was definitely teasing me now.

I decided to call her bluff. "Well, consider the debt settled. Don't feel compelled to stay with me if you don't want to," I said smugly.

"Okay," she said nonchalantly, and walked away.

I let out a sardonic laugh and waited for her to turn back around. Except that she didn't. She just kept walking, over toward the crowd of strangers at the refreshments table, not looking back.

I was torn now. It seemed like she'd had enough of my company, and I would hate to impose myself on her if she truly was cutting ties. But when I think back on our interactions, she was definitely enjoying herself. I haven't seen someone laugh that much in a long time. Is this a test? Am I supposed to chase her? She was about to disappear into the crowd, and I still had no way of contacting her. In the end, it was the wink that pushed me over the edge. This is a power play, she is trying to establish dominance. And I didn't care - I wasn't going to let her slip away that easy.

I followed her, keeping the back of her head in sight, her long hair flowing over her shoulders, until she stopped at the refreshments table and started snacking on some appetisers. "You're crazy," I said when I caught up to her. She looked up at me, face plastered with a smug grin. "You didn't even look back once," I said with a mixture of concern and admiration of her confidence.

"I knew you would follow," with a bright smile and a cheeky shrug. Dammit. Now she knew I was into her. Then she ruined the boast by turning sincere. "Actually, in the spirit of honesty, I was about to turn around but then I realised I could see you following in the reflection in the mirror over there."

I looked, and sure enough a giant mirror wall was mounted above the refreshments table. Man, whoever designs these events does not understand the word 'garish'. At this point, all I could do is admit defeat magnanimously. "OK, well played. Cara 1 - Me 0."

"Thank you, thank you," she curtseyed, then suddenly changed topic. "Are you going to the after-party?" There was a hint of nervousness in her question, though I didn't realise it until replaying the conversation in my head later.

As established, I'm not a big fan of these corporate events. "I wasn't planning on it..." I said truthfully, before realising she might be there. "...But I could be convinced," I added, trying to play it cool and not sure if I succeeded.

"I'll go if you go," she offered.

"Okay," I accepted, almost too quickly.

"Wow. You didn't take much convincing," she laughed. "Poor negotiating strategy. You could have held out for a lot more."

"Like what?"

"I guess we'll never know," she teased.

"Well, since we are doing the whole 'spirit of honesty' thing, you could have held out for more too."

"Like what?"

"I dunno. You could have made me buy ice cream on the way."

"Dammit!" She actually stomped her foot. I think she was playing it up, but there was some real rage under there.

"Does that count as a win for me? Now we're even on 1:1?"

"Depends, does it feel like a win knowing that you are missing out on delicious ice cream in my delightful company?"

It took me a while to form my response. "No, but I'm too prideful to admit it so I guess I'll take the point." I tried to tease back: "If you're nice to me I might buy some anyway..."

She didn't dignify that with a response, just a withering stare which I tried to block by putting my innocent 'nice boy' face on again.

The conversation stalled for a bit which gave my second-guessing a chance to catch up. She probably doesn't want to hang out with you at the after-party, she just wants someone to travel with. Surely she'll know people there who she would rather socialise with. I tried to figure out whether I had the courage to ask the next thing. Eventually I decided I had to. "So just to clarify, and like no pressure or anything, but is the idea that we are going to this thing together or did you have people you were meeting there?"

She seemed to retreat into herself a bit. "Oh, I thought..."

"Because like, I'm-"

"What did you want to do?"

...

Not for the first time, my second-guessing had made me give the wrong impression. At least I was getting practice at recovering. "Sorry, let me start over. I wasn't sure if you were planning on meeting people there or anything, and whether you'd want me to tag along. I don't want to get in the way."

"Oh, no I wasn't planning on meeting anyone. There'll probably be a few people there I should say 'hi' to. What about you?"

"No I don't think I'll know anyone. To be honest, the only reason I'm going is you."

She brightened up and let out a little radiant smile. "Good, we can be buddies! I was counting on you to keep it from getting too boring."

I felt a smile break out on my face too. "Deal" - I offered her my arm - "Shall we?"

She took it with an elegant acquiescence, and we started making our way to the exit.

Will paparazzi photograph us if we leave together arm-in-arm? She probably doesn't want anyone jumping to the wrong conclusions. I don't know if we are famous enough for tabloids to care but what if she is seeing someone and we end up in the background of someone's photo? I decided to try being more direct this time. "Do you care if we get photographed leaving arm-in-arm like this?"

"I don't if you don't," she said with confidence.

Well, that was that. We agreed it would be much more pleasant to walk to the after-party than be driven, so after leaving the venue we ducked the velvet rope and set off into the crisp night air, together.

*****Chapter 3*****

During the walk I spotted a waist-high stone wall which looked fun to climb on, so I veered over (Cara in tow) and jumped up onto it, holding out my hand for her to follow. She scrunched her face at me, but the grin of her inner child was not to be contained, so she jumped up too. We continued our walk along the top of the wall, now in single file with me leading the way, her following with heels in hand and arms outstretched for balance.

"You could have told me were going off-piste so I could have worn proper shoes," she admonished me in mock anger. "This stone is really cold to go barefoot."

I couldn't think of a witty response to that, so I didn't.

When our bridge was interrupted by an opening for a path into the nearby park, we kept up our game of 'floor is lava' by leaping between the bollards to reach the wall on the other side. Cara pulled it off rather gracefully, except for the nervous shriek she inadvertently let out mid-jump, followed by a look of frustration at acting so 'girly'. My silent smirk was met by another withering stare, the effect somewhat diminished this time by the blush creeping in, but I went back into 'innocent boy' defence mode anyway, which seemed to make her smile.

Once we were back down on the path she almost immediately linked her arm in mine again, which even my second-guessing self had to admit was an unambiguously good sign. Maybe too good. This can't be real. Maybe she is a con-artist. One of those girls who fakes being into you so she can steal your life savings.

Before I could go too far down that road I got distracted by her smile. Initially I saw it out the corner of my eye, her face illuminated from the side by a passing streetlamp and split with a wide grin, which she quickly tried to hide once I turned my head to look at her.

"What?" she laughed, seemingly embarrassed.

"Were you smiling?" I teased, not entirely sure why she was trying to hide it.

"No," with false innocence. She was still struggling to supress it, a faux frown battling with cherub cheeks.

"You know, you're pretty cute when you're trying not to smile."

That just made her try harder, but it was a losing battle and for a moment the sun came out again. We both laughed, her in exasperation, me in a sort of relieved confusion. "I'm allowed to be happy, okay?"

"Of course! You're also allowed to smile..."

"I know, but then then I would have to explain why I'm smiling, and I'm not quite ready for that."

Well now I was definitely curious, but it didn't matter - I was happy she was happy, and as we both stared straight ahead her infectious smile made its way onto my face. Two fools, beaming into the night instead of at each other, but beaming nonetheless.

*****Chapter 4*****

The after-party was a crowded club, the sort with a writhing dancefloor where bass-boosted house music played too loud while drugged-up socialites jumped up and down because there wasn't room to do anything else. Luckily, there was an upstairs area that looked a bit quieter, and we arranged to split up and meet there after I got us drinks and Cara went to the bathroom.