𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄 | Jamie Tartt

FIVE, COULD DO BETTER

DELICATE,
FIVE, COULD DO BETTER

" THIS ONES A CONTENDER!" Inez tells me as I walk out of the dressing room of Selfridges. Having convinced me that mine and Gus' so called date will be public news considering they've been posting about us since we were sixteen — the couple destined to be I've heard us be referenced before, it made me feel slightly uncomfortable.

I hate how spectated my life is. How many photos of me exist of days that I don't even remember— my biological mother, photoshoots of her and me ( well the bump) and then it went slightly silent until she eventually left and then me and my dad mostly at the football club, press shoots.

The most are with Rebecca as suspected. Photographer shots of us walking down the street, coffees in cafes in Paris. It's like a sixth sense now — knowing that what I do is most likely going to be on a front page or a instagram post soon enough, even the drive here was documented. It is unescapable, especially due to the current climate of mum and Rupert's divorce.

I turn in the knee length denim dress that I think looks quite sweet, paired with white gogo boots could be exceptional. This is the fifth outfit I've put on, I like shopping but not under pressure like I feel I currently am.

Harriet nods " I like it, I'd put it in the top five." I tilt my head " Haz, we've only seen five outfits."

she hums " and I loved them all." she tells me as I roll my eyes and turn to Inez who I know who will give a truthful answer,  no matter how harsh.

The raven haired girl nods " he'll be on his knees." she tells me with a unflinching confidence as I too roll my eyes at her.

" a bit dramatic, but I'm taking that means I look nice." I say, as I turn and face the mirror — sliding my freshly manicured fingers down the material as I exhale.

I look at the inverted reflection of the people waking by. And that's when I notice it, when I notice him — my eyes widen and the feeling of shrinking begins to dawn on me. He looks happy, too fucking happy for someone as shitty as him.

His arm around the waist of a twenty something year old probably not even five years older than me, carrying multiple bags as I stand with my fists now balling each side. I haven't seen him since the divorce, my dad that being.

I fled, I knew I'd be dragged into it — I knew he'd try to win me over, and I'm so small compared to him — so much fear fills me when I'm near him, that I feel so insignificant. Probably because he's the first person to have broken my heart and any reminder of him just breaks it a little bit more.

So I went, drowned myself in work as long as it wasn't on the same island as him — if he caught a flight to Italy I'd be off to France that afternoon.

I spent too many years of my childhood carefully glueing the pieces of my heart back together for him just to smash it again.

" holls?" Harriet and Inez stand up simultaneously but my eyes are going blurry and my stomach is churning. I blink and look at my friends as I pick at the denim material which now feels like it's suffocating me.

" I need to go and get change." I tell them, my breath heavy and words rushed. Turning back into the dressing room and clutching my fingers around the material as I pull the curtains shut.

My head bows and I feel sick, the suffocating feeling becoming more prominent and all the more reason for my fingers to begin clawing at the back of the dress for a zip. My head moves up to face the light as I groan to get the dress off of me.

" fuck." I whisper, growing more agitated " fuck!" I exclaim louder this time and I can hear Inez and Harriet's voices from behind the curtain that divides us but I'm not listening.