A week had passed since Alex's first football experience, her first time at Dave's studio, and their not-work dinner. Alex felt no clearer on if it should be considered a date or not and wasn't sure why she was letting it bother her at all. Dave was good company, and she had enjoyed her time, why did it have to be complicated?

They had their conference calls, as planned, that following Monday and had scheduled to meet one client the next Monday morning, and the other Monday after lunch. The rest of the week went by without hearing anything from Dave. Alex was hustling to find new contacts and reach out to the ones she already had to gain more clients. She was pleased to get a few calls because of word-of-mouth recommendations from current clients. She worked a few shifts at The Brew that week, but she could see the end in sight. Soon she would be able to hang up her apron for good and consider her business completely self-sustaining.

So, here she was, back at Saturday again, except this one had something altogether different scheduled. She had received an invitation to the Glasgow Business Gala, a party for small business owners at a local five-star hotel restaurant. It was a classy black-tie event, and if you were invited it meant you were considered to be among the most successful in your field in the Glasgow area. Every year they chose five up-and-coming business owners that were shining and showing quick growth in their fields. After having only been in the country and in her business for just barely a year, Alex was chosen as one of the five. The day the invitation had arrived in the mail she had squealed and immediately called her brother to tell him. It was an honor to be invited, and as a publicist it was great for business because she might be able to add more contacts to her potential client list.

It was a rare occurrence that Alex wore a dress, much less one as elegant as she wore this evening. She arrived, wearing a deep purple evening gown and strappy sandals (she still refused to wear high heels). She entered and was provided with a program of the evening's events, a card with her table number, her name was checked off a list and the toastmaster announced her name to the room. She was then directed towards a side room where photographs of each guest were being taken before they entered the dining area.

Much to her surprise, as she entered the room, she found Dave Tiler, in black suit and bowtie, behind the camera photographing a couple that had come in before her. There were several people ahead of her in line, so she stood and watched him secretly for a few minutes. An attendant stood at the front of the line, ensuring things proceeded smoothly. As the couple ahead of her moved away from the backdrop she stepped up.

Dave, whose head had been stationary at eye level with his camera, which was stationed on a tripod, had kept his focus through the lens for the last several guests. But as soon as Alex stepped into view, he popped his head up as he recognized the woman in front of him. He was frozen, he glanced over Alex's attire, trying not to gawk, but failing miserably.

"Mr. Tiler, is there a problem?" the attendant asked when she realized Alex hadn't moved as quickly as the rest.

Dave shook himself out of his trance. "No," he smiled at Alex and leaned back over his camera. "No problem at all."

Alex was hoping he hadn't caught her blushing in the photograph, but perhaps it would be mistaken for makeup.

Later, Alex was standing at a bar-height table with a glass of wine in her hand, watching and listening to the band on stage as they waited for the dinner seating. She noticed from the corner of her eye as someone came up to within a few feet behind her and stopped, watching her. Without looking away from the band, she smiled as she accused him, "I would tell you to take a picture because it would last longer, but you've already done that." She then turned towards him and couldn't help but reflect the beaming smile on his face.

"Alex." Dave shook his head as he allowed himself bravely to look back over her. "You look stunning."

She continued to grin as she gave him a slight curtsey, "Why thank you, sir." He approached her, and she reached out to tug lightly on his lapel. "You look rather dashing yourself."

"Where are you seated for dinner?" he asked, silently praying as he fiddled with the card in his pocket.

She opened the clutch bag which was attached to her wrist by a loop of fabric and pulled out her dinner card. "Table 20. You?"

He smiled wide. "Fate is in my favor, it seems." He pulled the card out of his pocket and placed it on the table in front of her. "Table 20."

She smiled genuinely then, relief washing over her, her shoulders visibly relaxed as she allowed herself to confide in him. "Oh, I'm so glad. These events make me so nervous. It will be nice to have a familiar face close by."

"I couldn't agree more. Shall we?" He picked his card back up then offered his arm and she looped hers around his elbow, allowing him to escort her to their table.

They were half way there when she glanced down and giggled. "Converse sneakers, really?"

He scoffed. "It was enough to have to wear a suit and bowtie, one's personality has to be allowed to have some free reign. And they are black, they match."

She grinned and pulled up slightly on her dress, raising the hem just enough to show her sandals. "I refuse to wear high heels, so I'm not better, I suppose."

He grinned back at her. "Oh yes, so rebellious, aren't we?" They arrived at their table and he found her name card and pulled the chair out for her. Noticing the name card by hers, he held his finger up to his lips, signaling her to stay quiet during his next sneaky course of action. He snatched up the card and casually walked around the table, glancing to find his several seats away. He looked around to see that no one was coming and quickly switched the name cards out. He brought his back around the table and sat down next to her with a triumphant grin. "You didn't mention you had been invited to the Glasgow Business Gala. Quite the to-do, impressive that you've made it on the invitation list so soon after moving here."

"You didn't mention you were invited, either," she noted, but before he could say anything else, a man came up to the table.

"Well, hello. I suppose this is my seat, here." An older, gray haired man sat down in the seat that Dave had switched name cards with. Dave grinned at Alex, and the older man directed his next comment to Dave. "Such a lovely date you have for this evening, sir."

Dave smiled and rested his arm on the back of Alex's seat. "Thank you, sir. However, Ms. Stanton received her own invitation to the Gala, I was just lucky enough to receive my own as well."

Alex leaned over close, feeling brave, and turned head away from the man's sight as she whispered into Dave's ear, "Your date, am I?"

She turned back to face forwards, and he mirrored her earlier position, turning towards her, leaning in close to her ear so no one else could hear or make out his words. She could feel his breath, leaving a tingling sensation along her neck, as he whispered, "Should have been. Had I been smart enough and brave enough to ask. But even as foolish as I am, fate looked down upon me and smiled, and here you are."

Her breath caught in her throat at his words, and she turned slightly towards him as he turned back to face forwards. Their faces were inches from each other, they locked eyes a moment, and she was sure now that nothing could hide the blushing in her cheeks. Here they were, back in almost the same position they had been a week ago.

After a moment, Dave turned towards the man across from them, willing himself towards some distraction from the woman next to him. "So, Mr. Finnegan, what is your line of work?"

He regretted his question quickly. But thankfully, they didn't have to discuss the excitement of accounting for too long before the rest of their tablemates arrived, and conversation turned to other topics.

One of the guests at the table asked Alex about her business, and Dave watched as her eyes lit up and she began explaining about her dream that was becoming reality. A business to help small businesses. She shared her continuing goal to help start-ups and minority run small businesses to succeed in what might otherwise be an unattainable marketplace, providing affordable but professional publicity work. He listened in awe and continued to wonder at his luck to have met this woman.

After dinner and several speeches, the evening ended, and Dave walked Alex out to her car. She unlocked and opened the door, but before she moved to sit down, Dave stood on the opposite side of the door and leaned his arms on the top. "I was wondering if I might correct my mistake—"

"What mistake is that?" She looked confused.

"The one where I didn't ask you to be my date tonight—I was thinking perhaps I could take you to dinner? Monday, after work?" he asked her hopefully.

She smiled now. "So, if I'm correct, we've had a work dinner, with your family; then an after-work but not-work dinner, and tonight a work-related dinner date that wasn't a date but should have been—and now this would be a real, actual date?" She smiled at him as she rattled off their last few dinner meetings.

He nodded a bit shyly but smiled as he rubbed his hand over his chin. "I believe your account of the situation is correct, yes. And yes, a real, actual date."

"Yes." She nodded.

"Yes to dinner?" His eyes lit up with hope.

Grinning, she replied, "Yes to dinner."

His smile grew wide. "Fantastic. I'll see you Monday morning."