Page 1 of Take Her On

Chapter One

Maya

The screech of brakes outside forced Maya to sit upright. A roaring rumble spluttered and huffed to a halt, and then came the slamming of doors. The day she’d been dreading had finally arrived.

She flung the duvet off her bed and scrambled to the window, knocking her shin on a pile of books as she went. She should have unpacked properly, instead of leaving her belongings crowding the floor, but—well, she’d had bigger things to worry about. She nudged the books into a disorganised pile as they fanned across the faded carpet and pulled herself up at the windowsill. The new family was moving in across the street, and she had to know who it was.

Maya wasn’t like most of her course-mates. They were the type of people who spent their summer break hanging out with their friends, going shopping at the Westside, and making the most of the fading English sun. They’d lounge about on their significant other for hours, kissing and fucking, plaiting each other’s hair, doing whatever else people in relationships did. Maya wouldn’t know—she’d never had one.

Not officially, anyway.

She’d had her fair share of hook-ups, courtesy of her favourite pub on campus, but no, Maya spent most of her time torturing herself over her unreciprocated love for her unfairly beautiful, straight best friend.

Pretty pathetic, to be honest.

Living across from her best friend had been an absolute dream when they were kids, but adult life was a different story. With Carly spending most of her time with her new buddy Zeek, and the various commitments sport degrees had placed on them both, the distance between them was only becoming more obvious. Especially now. Carly Walter had taken all of Maya’s stupid, hopeless love with her when she, along with the rest of the Walters, moved house two weeks ago.

The notion that her twenties were supposed to be the best time of Maya’s life left a lot to be desired. She knew they were good for some people: the Carlys, the Zeeks, the caramel-frappé soy-milk drinkers who roll out of bed with impeccable hair and fresh breath.

But what about her?

It felt like Maya had been left in a forgotten corner of the basement, where a small, unrelenting ecosystem of sadness had slowly taken root.

Parting the navy blue curtains with her fingertips, she flinched against the sunlight streaming through the window. She didn’t even know what time it was, but judging by the height of the sun in the sky, it was much too early for a Saturday.

Downstairs, the hum of the TV drifted up through the floorboards, along with the sound of cutlery and plates being scraped together—and the buzz of a one-sided conversation. Maya didn’t care enough to try and eavesdrop at the top of the stairs this time.

Grandma always spoke too loud on the phone, anyway. She was no doubt updating her friends about Grandpa’s condition or fretting over Maya’s lack of socialising this summer. It sure beat her mother riding her high horse around the kitchen counter, though. Maya wasn’t looking forward to her returning from her work trip.

She sighed. She’d known moving back would be hard as an adult—her grandma’s probing questions and her mother’s lingering shadow made her feel like a little kid again. Adjusting to the dynamic was proving much more difficult than she’d imagined, but when her grandpa got sick, she hadn’t seen another option. Her grandparents needed her.

The slam of a car door drew her attention. A middle-aged man and woman emerged from the black BMW parked on the drive opposite. Maya snorted, her breath fogging the glass. Must be out-of-towners. They looked far too happy to have just moved to a boring street in the middle of nowhere.

This is who is replacing Carly?

Maya knew her curiosity about the new inhabitants bordered on obsessive, but she couldn’t help it. It felt wrong somehow. That complete strangers were going to occupy the Walters’ spaces. Sit and eat and sleep where they did—where she and Carly had so many times. Mr Walter had even put a football net in their back garden, as it was much bigger than her grandparents’. Maya and Carly would take it in turns to blast a football at him, trying to replicate professional footballer celebrations when the ball soared into the string netting. It had been a long time since they’d played like that.

They’d grown out of it; Carly had, at least.

Two burly movers jumped out of the van at the front, and the woman directed the boxes in through their shiny blue door. The man wrapped his arm around her waist, as if to say, “Look, hun, we finally made it.”

The woman didn’t reciprocate the man’s enthusiasm, Maya noted, as she shrugged off his touch. Maybe she’s just realised they’ve moved to the armpit of the countryside. Regrets.

The only good thing about this place were Millton’s sports connections. Maya’s childhood team, Millton City FC, were competing for promotion again this season, but with her final year of university commitments, she wasn’t sure how often she’d be able to attend.

The Millton University campus was a twenty-minute train ride out of the town into open countryside. Even though it was in the middle of nowhere, it was one of the best sports universities in the country—the university’s connections to sports clubs and other organisations were second to none—so it wasn’t a hard decision to stay in Millton to study there. It had everything students needed: their lectures close by, accommodation, and a handful of places that supplied cheap booze. A lot of people from Maya’s high school had ventured elsewhere, but she was just relieved that Carly had studied dance there too.

Maybe I should listen to Hannah and tell Carly how I feel before anything else changes.

Another slammed door brought Maya out of her thoughts. A dark blue VW Golf had materialised out of nowhere, its two front tyres parked carelessly on the kerb.

Another new neighbour?

She struggled to see the driver through the glare of the sunshine, so she shifted her stance, arching her neck as the mystery person strolled over to the van. The walk was familiar somehow. She itched at the sides of her mind to place where she’d seen it.

Maybe it was someone local, after all. Maybe someone from school or—

Then the woman turned, and all the pieces slammed together.