𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄 | Jamie Tartt

FOURTEEN, VOLTAGE

DELICATE
FOURTEEN, VOLTAGE

I SPEND THE REST OF THE WEEKEND AT MY MUMS, we shop, we go for brunch — we don't talk about the gala though. I don't tell her about my confrontation with Rupert and why I left early ( with Jamie Tartt of all people) and she doesn't tell me whatever she's so clearly been hiding from me for however long.

my fork pokes the piece of fruit that sits on my plate, Monday morning soon approaches and the week ahead is unescapable. I have a photo shoot this afternoon, so I use it as a reason to spend limited time at the club today — just in case the Jamie Tartt I encountered with on Friday ceases to exist and I have to make a quick exit to avoid further embarrassment.

she says ' morning piglet' , I grin at the childish nickname I'm still often referred to. We drink coffee, talk about the stuff mums and daughters speak about. Until the car pulls up at precisely half eight and we drive to the club.

And here I am now, watching an angry roy Kent ( although that's the standard with him) confide in me ( aka, bitch about his teammates).

" he's just a massive bellend!" Roy tells me, I sit on the top of some sort of surface, legs slightly dangling from the height of myself when compared to the height the desk is from the ground.

I don't know when me and Roy seemingly became friends, but when he walked into the room I was borrowing as an office for the morning in a post training sweaty state and began ranting about todays training session I think it solidified the fact that we now share a  friendship. So about a minute in when the initial shock had passed, I closed my laptop and just listened to him.

I knew exactly who he's talking about, and it's exactly what I feared. That the Jamie Tartt I spent time with Friday night no longer existed, maybe it was some cruel joke to get me to like him and then he'd just make me hate him more ( but then again, that's quite an elaborate plan for Jamie Tartt to cook up).

" and Sam was wide open!" he states, breathless as he's forced to stop talking to regain breath. I nod,

" so let me get this straight.." I hum " Jamie Tartt is very  much still a bellend, and it's because Sam was wide open but Jamie still decided to go for the goal himself."

Roy points at me, imitating that I've hit the nail straight on its head " and that Ted keeps a open jar of Peanut Butter on his kitchen counter?" he nods again and I hum once again.

" what if there's a reason, why he's such a knob?" I ask as Roy looks at me.

" the only reason is that he's a little bitch primaddonma." he bites back and I just nod, fighting the denial that he's not actually an arsehole the whole way through.

" yeah..but what if he's not?" Roy's head turns slightly as he gives me a look, I hope I'm not being as transparent as I feel I am. Grasping at the opportunity ( literally any opportunity) not to be made a fool of, having been found in such a vulnerable position that night and confided in a side of someone who before then had never existed, felt things that I wouldn't have felt in a million years for someone based on this new experience.

The thought of Jamie's possible cruelty makes my heart ache and blood boil as it pulsates through my veins. But... I don't have proof only the play by play that Roy ( a man who so obviously hates Jamie) has recalled for me.

My statement hangs in the silence, so I speak again, " what if it's an act? Like he feels the need to be the best so he just acts like a massive douche?"

Roy opens his mouth but my train of delusions runs off it's rails " what if he's actually a really nice guy who walks you home when he finds you crying in the alleyway, but his niceness will be perceived as a weakness so he just acts like a massive arsehole!"