“I’m fine, thanks. So, this surprise – can you give me a clue, at least?”
I shot her a quick grin before turning my attention back to the road. “No harm in that, I suppose. I’ve ordered dinner from the Wharf Shed. The food’s great, but it’s usually pretty busy there, so I thought we’d pick it up and then go somewhere else to eat it. I’m going to take you to one of my favourite picnic spots instead. Sound alright?”
“Sounds great,” she said, smiling over at me.
She seemed much more relaxed than she had been at the beach earlier, which was a huge relief. Maybe I wouldn’t make a fool of myself tonight after all.
“You didn’t have to do this, y’know. I’m fine – what happened at the beach wasn’t your fault.”
“I’m glad you’re okay. And I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.”
She didn’t say anything and I wanted to be honest about my intentions. If she was at all uncomfortable about this, I’d rather know now. I had the feeling I’d need to prepare myself for the disappointment.
“Look,” I said. “I’m kinda rusty at this whole… thing. I haven’t done anything like this in a long time, so if I do or say anything stupid, I’d be really grateful if you’d just cut me some slack.”
She glanced over at me and I caught her eye for a moment, before I had to turn my attention back to the road.
“I will if you will,” she said quietly. “In case you were wondering, it’s been a while for me, too.”
I thought my heart was going to leap out of my chest. The combination of relief at having come clean, and anticipation as to what might come next, raced through me.
We drove through town and I turned off at the bottom end as we made our way along the road that skirted the harbour. She reached forward and touched the small dancing hula girl mounted on my dash. It was tacky, but I liked it.
“This is cool,” she said.
“That’s Leilani.”
“Leilani?”
“Vinnie named her. It was a birthday present a couple of years ago, from him and Jas.”
“Ah, I see.”
She smiled as the road narrowed, changing from a quiet suburban neighbourhood into a bustling harbour. Cars were parked on both sides of the road, and there was a trendy bar and restaurant on one side, already busy even though it was only just after six. A blackboard out the front announced ‘private function.’ We turned the corner, past the bar, to see lines of cars parked with empty boat trailers behind them. I drove past them and around the corner a little bit.
“I’ll be two minutes,” I said, unfastening my seatbelt. “I phoned the order through earlier, just have to pick it up.”
“Okay.”
I left her in the truck and made my way across the car park to the old wharf building. The nerves I’d been fighting so hard with began to make their presence felt. Not so much butterflies in my stomach, as a flock of birds inside my chest cavity. What the hell was I doing? I hadn’t been on a date in nine years, and here I was, arranging this elaborate evening for a woman I barely knew? I was turning myself inside out, and for what?
I stopped, leaning back against the side of the building and drawing in deep breaths. A couple of people gave me strange looks as they passed me, but I didn’t care. I had to get a handle on this. I had to decide. Either I was doing this, or I wasn’t. Which was it to be?
I thought about the way she looked in that red swimsuit. Or the way her lips were perpetually rose-bud red and leaned toward the glossy side. Or the way she had let me hold her hand in the car earlier.
Jesus Christ, this wasn’t helping.
Or maybe it was.
I pushed myself away from the side of the building. It was fear, that’s all it was. It’d been a while, and I was scared of making a fool of myself. Perfectly normal behaviour. Except that none of this felt normal.
From out of nowhere, a conversation Em and I had years before came flooding back.
I’d told her I was sick of worrying about stuff that no one else seemed to care about. I just wanted to be normal.
“Normal is over-rated,” she’d said. “You need to aim higher.”
And then she’d kissed me.
Maybe she was right. Maia was probably as nervous as I was. She’d said it had been a while since she’d done this, too. One of us had to take the lead here, and by rights, it should be me. I was the one who asked her, after all.
I made my way past the refurbished boat shed, now home to a pottery shop, shoe shop and second-hand furniture shop, along with the Wharf Shed restaurant itself. The salty scent of the harbour wafted in on the breeze, and out on the water, boats were coming and going, in all shapes and sizes.
Dinner was ready and waiting, and I collected it from the pick-up window and made my way back to the car park. As I rounded the corner and saw her sitting there, in my truck, an unsettling sense of déjà vu settled over me. It was almost like I’d lived this moment before.