𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄 | Jamie Tartt

SIXTEEN, JUST FOR YOU

DELICATE
SIXTEEN, JUST FOR YOU

" GUS HEY." I say, watching as he walks into the coffee shop I've invited him too. I've spoken to him since the match, he asked me where I ran off ( and didn't come back from), I lied and said I felt unwell but in actuality I was hiding out in an office with Jamie Tartt.

Having a better time than I should have, which may be the reason I asked Gus to come here today — to ease the guilt that simmered in me when I was sat close to Jamie, too close. Especially when he was only a few floors away. And the guilt that grew when last night, I was caught off guard by his text and by what a shitty date I had been.

He pulls me into a hug and a kiss that I slickly avoid by placing my chin on his shoulder, " you alright, your call seemed urgent." he smiles and that guilt builds on me.

I gently pat the table I've been sat at anxiously waiting for his arrival for the last half hour, "come and sit." I say, sitting down myself and he soon follows suit.

He tries to look like he's not panicking, like he's not aware of what's about to happen. But he knows, I know he knows.

Shuffling uncomfortably in the chair, I look at the counter " do you need a drink?" I ask and he silently shakes his head.

I hate this, the whole breaking up with people. Fortunately, I haven't dated many people mainly oxytocin filled nights. So I don't run into this problem often.

A silence engulfs us. either of us daring the other the start the conversation, and I'm not the one who does.

Gus looks at me, a slightly different glimmer in his eyes " so.." he drawls out " where did you run off to, actually?"

and I look at him, and the guilt consumes me. He knows where I went, everyone knows where I went — but none of them know why.

I feel the corner of my lip twitch, " I went to see Jamie after he got sent off." I speak honestly, and he gives me a look that makes me feel caught out despite being honest.

" is it Tartt?" he says after a few more seconds in silence and my eyebrows furrow.

" is what Tartt?" I ask,

Gus exhales " is he the reason you're ending this?" — at least my intentions are transparent.

I shake my head " no." I tell him but he doesn't look convinced and I don't think I'm convinced by my own answer either.

Yes, maybe? I'm not sure.

But even it is, it's something I'm not going unpack with the man I'm currently breaking up with. It'll be something I discuss with my friends over a bottle of tequila in my living room tonight.

My hand reaches out and takes ahold of his which sits on the table — it tenses when our skin brushes against one another " Gus, you're great really, perfect even-" he snorts as I give him a soft smile when he looks back to me.

" just for someone else ." I tell him, and I can tell he's hurt — he's spent the last decade dreaming about a version of me that is an illusion, the version of me that likes him romantically, that could possibly love him one day. A version of me that doesn't exist.

He nods, letting me hold him for a moment longer before recoiling his hand and placing it into his lap. Like a dog with my tail between my legs I recoil my hand too.

Flickering bud gaze up to the ceiling of the coffee shop, he laughs almost " I should have know someone was going on between you two, when I saw you outside your house."