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.
