Page 28 of Take Her On

The sight of Jamie stepping up onto the stage, in tight black jeans that showed off the thickness of her thighs, made her gulp. Her hands tightened around her glass. She wanted to pinch herself. She needed a distraction, that was certain. But what or who? Anyone on the team was off-limits. As captain, a relationship with a teammate would make things unnecessarily complicated, and nobody needed that in their final year.

Her quest to hook up with someone had backfired the other weekend, but she had to try again. She couldn’t let these feelings be confused with anything else. It was just hormones; that was all.

Jamie laughed, mid-conversation with the man running the DJ booth. He handed her a microphone.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Like she knew Maya was watching, Jamie’s eyes flicked to her. She winked—the cocky bastard actually winked at her—and instead of feeling disdain or annoyance at the gesture, something unexplainable nipped at her insides, twisting, and heat flushed between her legs.

Not good.

She blew out a breath and looked away, reaching for her glass. Finding it empty, she grumbled. She hadn’t realised how much she’d relied on hiding her feelings beneath alcohol, but now all she wanted to do was neck something strong and feel the burn down her throat.

She didn’t need to drink. She wasn’t about to break out into a sweat or start stealing from Grandma’s purse to buy spirits down at the corner shop. She always drank less during the season, anyway; Coach preferred it, and Maya was prepared to do anything to win the championship this year.

But drinking helped. It helped her hide her feelings. To numb, to forget, to just not think for a while.

It never lasted, of course, and sooner or later she had to face the truth again—but for those few hours of solace, it was nice. No worrying about Grandpa or the future. No getting stuck in the haunting inevitability of change, about university, or anything that came after. No stress about losing Carly, or never being good enough, or letting down the people she loved.

All that would just quieten for a moment.

But not here.

Her teammates roared as Jamie took her place on the stage between two giant plastic palm trees. She began to tap her foot as the opening notes began, her head swaying to the beat.

Then the music really kicked in, and a familiar synth riff boomed from the speakers. Maya recognised it. Another one of Mum’s favourites: “Take On Me”, by A-ha.

Eighties music. Of course.

Jamie jumped from side to side, stepping her feet in time to the beat. The rest of the team clapped and waved their hands in support, but all Maya could do was watch. Jamie played up to the song, portraying every cheesy band member compiled into one, blowing kisses at the crowd and pulling out exaggerated dance moves that got people cheering. When she hit the chorus, she stood still, her gaze finding Maya’s effortlessly again, as if she’d lured her in this whole time and now wanted to deal her killing blow.

“Ta-a-a-a-ke on m-e-e-e-e,” she sang, hard and low, her mouth breaking out into a huge smile. She took a few purposeful steps across the stage and then snared Maya again, singling her out with her finger. “Ta-a-a-a-ke me o-o-o-n.”

Maya’s heart jumped into her throat. She might be deluded, but it felt like Jamie was singing to her. Or is this a mind game designed to mess with my head? If it was, none of the team noticed. They sang along with Jamie, requesting high fives or videoing on their phones. Leah stood front and centre, waving her arms and cheering her on. Of course.

Finally, Aiysha came back with the drinks, earning a quick reprieve from Jamie’s eye contact. She handed Maya a vodka lemonade, and she took it willingly. One more drink would be just enough to take the edge off.

But she still wasn’t getting on that damn karaoke.

She leaned against the edge of the table, allowing herself a small sip. A strip of neon pink lights lit up the stage, casting a glow on Jamie as she fanned out her navy button-up as part of her routine.

Maya wanted to roll her eyes, but really, a part of her was impressed Jamie could embody all the power of a frontwoman while not having the ability to sing or dance like one. Maya didn’t possess the same quality. Jamie didn’t care about what people thought of her. She was just having fun. Truthfully, she admired that.

Jamie didn’t even need the screen for the words, for crying out loud. They fell off her tongue easily, so she could focus her energy on her disjointed dance moves and amusing the crowd.

Jamie’s eyes met hers again as she dove into the agonisingly high note at the end of the chorus, and the team erupted in applause. Maya joined in too, and Jamie took an exaggerated bow before returning the microphone and hopping off the stage. Leah and Aiysha greeted her immediately, while a few midfielders from the team, Harriet and Noodle, approached the booth to make their own requests.

To the casual eye, Maya was a part of the group. But in her own mind, she was an observer, just watching them for a little while. She smiled when they smiled, and laughed when they laughed, but she was just a balloon hovering near the pink lights, just a sneeze from floating away.

She finished her drink, feeling a little more at ease. After two tall guys from a nearby table had finished a painful rendition of “Summer Nights”, she got up and headed to the bathroom.

Away from the noise, she snaked along the purple corridors, her eyes drifting over the funky parrot wallpaper. Rosie’s random tropical elements were Maya’s favourite, especially the robot parrot that greeted her as she entered the bathroom.

“Ahoy, matey!” its mechanical voice sounded.

The parrot was a bit worse for wear now, its yellow feathers matted and bald in places, with one black eye missing. Maya would probably claw her eye out too if she’d witnessed the things no doubt poor Jerome had. Despite his struggles, he still flapped his wings in greeting, albeit strained and slow.

After a quick wee, she washed her hands, looking at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were a little flushed, but her green paisley shirt still looked good. With a football team full of drunk people, no spills or stains was a definite success.