Page 1 of Illegal Formation
Emily
There was nothing worse than underboob sweat.
It took everything in me not to pick at the band of my sports bra to relieve some of the dampness there, or to take the towel draped around my neck and shove it down between my breasts. Just the thought had me twitching to do so, knowing I’d feel instant relief.
Instead, I was focusing on all the sweat pooling in the worst possible place knowing damn well I couldn’t do anything about it.
If I were at the gym, it’d be a different story. If I were at the little studio downtown where I’d been dancing since I moved to Seattle, that would have been fine, too. I could have wiped myself down and I wouldn’t have given two shits who saw me or passed judgment.
But this was the final auditions for the Seattle Seahawks Dancers.
And I had to act like a fucking lady.
Actbeing the keyword there. I had spent hours on my hair and makeup this morning to pull off the look of a well-behaved and amiable young woman — although to this group, I was far from young.
At twenty-nine, I was the oldest to audition.
If I made it, I’d be like a grandma to these youngins.
My smile twitched a little as another bead of sweat slid down the crevice between my tits to join its friends. They were having a little sauna party down there. The band of my bra was completely saturated, even now, well after my audition was done. God, I didn’t even have large boobs. What did the girls with double Ds do when heat struck?
I shifted in my seat, hoping my smile was still sweet and demure and not the uncomfortable,impossible-to-fake-much-longerversion that it felt like. To be fair, I wasn’tonlysweating under my boobs. Sweat was also running down my spine and prickling at the back of my neck.
I was nervous.
It was hard not to be when — for the first time since I could remember — I actually wanted something bad enough to care.
I wasn’t sure I really wanted to be on the squad when I submitted my virtual audition back in March. Maybe it was that my life was stalling out in Austin. The trio of jobs I’d tried while living there hadn’t panned out, and I kept finding myself drawn back to dance — except there was no way to make a decent salary dancing in Austin. The best I could find was as a go-go dancer at one of the bars on the weekend and frankly, I was too old for that shit. I preferred to be asleep by midnight, at the latest, and even that was pushing it.
So, I submitted my virtual audition to the Seattle Seahawks Dancers, just to see what happened.
I’d only been to Seattle once before, when I’d booked a solo hiking trip after I graduated high school. I wanted to experiencesomething new before I was locked down for another four years of school.
I found I loved the city, the fog and the drizzle and the cool, crispness of it all. I loved the mountains and hiking within driving distance, the culture of the people, the way everyone seemed to actually give a fuck about the planet.
Seattle was calling me back in a way. I wasn’t sure why, and I was fairly certain — given my track record — that I wouldn’t stay long. But it was where my heart was drawn to, at the moment at least.
When I got through to the interview round for the dance team, my interest picked up.Could I actually do this?I wondered.
And by the time I attended the first round of auditions at the stadium, battling it out with almost two-hundred other dancers?
Yeah. I wanted it.
I wanted itbad.
Maybe it was because I’d been wandering the world like a lost kitten for so long now that the idea of belonging somewhere, of having a job I cared about and was good at andwantedto do lit me up in a way I hadn’t felt since I danced for my college team.
To my friends — and especially to my family — it seemed like I loved the life of a nomad, that I thrived in not being tied down to any place or job or life plan.
But anyone who’s ever lived inside that reality knows better.
We’re all looking for something.
I just wasn’t sure what that something was.
Now, weeks after the first round of auditions, and hours after the finals, the final forty of us were gathered in the stands at Lumen Field, the lights shining down on the green turf.
And I couldn’t help but feel like it was all a bit ridiculous.
