The Lunchtime Special

Chapter 14 - The Jerk

"Are you coming to watch the game this arvo?" Ames asks. "Do you want a lift?"

I pause briefly from spooning some beetroot, rocket and fetta into a container for her. "Um, actually, no, I can't make it today. Will you wish everyone a good game for me and say I'll see them at training next week?"

"Sure." Today's licks of colour in Ames' hair are a grass green and lurid orange; she flicks them off her face now and gives me a look. "Got a hot date?"

I feel the blush warm my cheeks as I look down, concentrating on the salad. "Mmm, something like that."

"Cool."

We exchange food for cash and once I've given change, Ames gives me a wink and a grin as she leaves, making me blush again then wonder why I'm reacting like a giddy schoolgirl. I'd like to blame her for putting Jake forefront in my mind but have to admit to myself it's been difficult to think of anything else all morning. More customers come in, so I shake my head and force myself to concentrate.

Closing up at two as usual, I wave goodbye to Chloe and walk across the road to the railway station. I had parked my car in the station car park this morning rather than behind the shop so it would be easy to access when I get back tomorrow. There's plenty of time; mid-afternoon flights had been sold out so I'm on a five o'clock departure, which gives me plenty of time to get to the airport. When the train pulls in I head to the quiet carriage, stowing my overnight bag on the floor near my feet and taking out a book to read. The written words don't hold my attention for long though, and I find myself staring unseeing at the landscape rattling past as I think back over the time I've spent with Jake so far, still amazed at how quickly and easily I felt a connection between us. Even with Josh, a guy I dated for two years, there hadn't been the same feeling so soon, and the speed of it all is exhilarating yet terrifying at the same time.

Before long it seems I'm at the airport; I've already done online check-in and now my QANTAS app tells me I'm departing from Gate 12 so I head there, stopping to buy a coffee on the way. As I sit and wait, anticipation and excitement start to build.

The flight seems excruciatingly slow; my seat is near the front and I'm among the first to board, so must wait for everyone else to get on. There are quite a few parents flying with babies, I note, and though I'm usually cool with the resultant noise that's inevitably going to follow, today for some reason I'm dreading it. I pay scant attention to the safety demonstration, just enough to note where my nearest exit is, though I'm sending the pilots a telepathic message that they'd better not crash this damn plane. When the food comes I'm happy to have something to distract me and am tempted by the free wine or beer but turn it down in favour of a cup of tea. My fingers drum on the tray table while I wait for my rubbish to be taken away, listening half-heartedly to the news programme they're playing, then I realise how wound up I'm getting and force myself to breathe deeply and settle down.

Jake had offered to meet me at the airport but I demurred; timing is going to be tight and if I end up missing the start of the game it won't matter, but I don't want him to miss it too. As luck would have it, we must have had a tail wind, for my flight lands at Tullamarine fifteen minutes early and then I manage to get on a Skybus to the city almost as soon as I've bought the ticket from the booth. It's chocka and I'm squashed between a big buff German guy and a Japanese lady who's shouting into her mobile phone. I do my best to block them out and think about the evening ahead, wondering if my acting skills are good enough to sit through a whole game of footy and pretend I'm enjoying it. Wondering if Jake would want me to pretend I was enjoying it, then deciding he probably wouldn't. Wondering what he's got in mind for after the game.

"That's $8.00 thanks."

The taxi I took from Southern Cross station pulls over and I pay, getting out to stare up at the imposing edifice of the Melbourne Cricket Ground. Our seats are in the Olympic Stand, Jake had told me, and we've arranged to meet near Gate 3. Looking around I see I'm not far from Gate 7 and take a minute to decide which is the best way to walk, eventually making my way anti-clockwise as best I can through the throngs of sports fans noisily entering the stadium. Because I don't know just how many gates there are, I figure counting backwards is my safest bet.

Coming across the MCG Superstore, I stop for a quick look and decide to buy a scarf in Hawthorn's colours of brown and gold, thinking it will give Jake a laugh. Winding it around my neck I keep heading north; there's still ten minutes to go before I'm due to meet him.

As I finally approach Gate 3 there's a small gap in the crowd and I catch sight of his tall frame standing in front of the large glass doors; I raise a hand to wave and am about to call his name when a different voice beats me to it.

A woman appears from Jake's left; she's stunning – long, auburn waves of hair cascading to her waist, tall Rubenesque figure, skin that from here looks like porcelain. "Jake, darling!" She strides confidently up to him and wraps her arms around his neck, lifting her face for a kiss that is easily a full minute more than a mere peck. My heart leaps into my throat, then when I see one of his hands appear on her backside it plummets in free fall and I take a step back, not wanting to be seen now. My mind is swirling in confusion and I blink rapidly, trying to work out if this is all real or I'm dreaming it.

She takes his hand and starts leading him towards the door and I begin to think I'm going to be left stranded, unwilling to believe Jake would treat me this way but unable to deny what I'm seeing with my own eyes.

"Ow!"

"Sorry mate!"

A rowdy group of teens not watching where they're going bump into me but keep going, calling their apology back over careless shoulders as I rub the arm where I'd been sideswiped. When I look round again, expecting to find no trace of Jake or the woman, I gasp when he's there, a mere two feet in front of me.

"Mia, it's not what you're thinking."