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“You ready, J?” Taylor asked.

“Wait, wait, let me record this for Violet,” Signe spoke from the opposite side of the small semi-circle all of us created around Jacqueline.

“Not gonna lie, I was kind of hoping you all would have better things to do…” Jacqueline’s voice sounded nervous, and my muscles tensed with the need to hold her.

“Absolutely not,” Mary shook her head “Chop, chop, girlie.”

“Tell me when,” Taylor instructed, as they tapped on Mary’s mobile.

“Fine, fine,” Jacqueline grumbled, “Ready!”

“You got this, sis,” Marco added, with a grin toward his sister.

Mary tapped on her cell a few times, and suddenly, “Everytime We Touch” byCascadastarted playing from the speaker. Very loudly. It echoed across the pitch and gained the attention of some teammates who were in the middle of leaving but halted in curiosity.

Jacqueline dramatically straightened her spine. She brushed her hair behind her shoulders and lifted her chin as she inhaled through her nose. She pulled heart-shaped sunglasses out of her sweatpants pockets and placed them over her eyes. Then she started shifting her hips sensually from side to side.

It took my brain a second to catch up to what I was seeing, but it wasn’t until Jacqueline stepped to the side and back, and the bass dropped that I realized I wasn’t hallucinating.

Jacqueline was…dancing.

At my rugby training.

And the moves she used reminded me a lot of the ancient, pixelated music video to this song.

…It was then that I realized that this was a planned performance.

Behind Jacqueline, Signe had her phone out, recording it.

Cheers, applause, and laughter came from everyone else as Jacqueline stepped forward and ripped off her sweatshirt.

My eyes could not have gotten any bigger.

My mouth was hanging open in shock, but I couldn’t find it in me to close it.

Because Jacqueline was making unwavering eye contact with me through her sunglasses—miraculously still on her face. When she bent down to rip off her break-away sweatpants, I almost fainted at the sight of her in a very similar outfit thatCascadawore in the music video.

She wore a bright orange tube top with a thick black belt around the waist and a black skirt. Instead of knee-high black leather boots, Jacqueline opted for sneakers with scrunched socks at her ankles.

Jacqueline even went as far as to run her fingers through her dark hair as she continued to dance.

There was a long break in between verses, where just the music played and the beat bumped.

During this time, Jacqueline danced.

And danced, taking up most of the space in the half-circle our friends created for her.

It was choreography that was simple and easy to pull off but didn’t reduce how effortlessly sexy she looked. How her hips swung perfectly with the beat, and how her hands traced the delicate curve of her waist.

The music video that Mary and I used to play on repeat over and over as teens.

It was obvious that Jacqueline had practiced this performance many, many times.

The final bridge of the song played, and Jacqueline was panting as she strutted up to me, sensually lip-syncing the lyrics. She even went as far as to dramatically flip her hair, sliding one of her palms up my chest, running her other hand down her neck, staying in character.

I was hypnotized, vaguely aware of the cheering coming from our rugby team and Taylor. Of Zaid bringing his thumb and finger to his mouth to whistle. Jacqueline lifted her hands to her hair again, turning around to grind her arse near my groin to tease me with her dancing.

She looked up at me over her shoulder, and I instinctively leaned down to bring our lips closer together, before Jacqueline smirked and stepped away from me.