𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄 | Jamie Tartt

TWENTY TWO, A BOX OF SNOOKERS

DELICATE
TWENTY TWO, A BOX OF SNOOKERS.

" IS THAT BABY BOSS I SEE ?" are the words that divert my attention from my phone where a particular Mancunian footballer is texting me from the Manchester City bus which he snuck on with nobody realising he hadn't spent the night in the hotel.

Changing the meeting place of our lunch to the local pub — I lied and said it was easier to meet at the pub as I was going to already be in the area, when in actuality it was just so I could spend another hour and twenty three minutes with Jamie Tartt in bed, and the shower...( doing things that will not be disclosed to anyone).

I close the screen and smile as I place the phone back into the comfort and security of my bag "Ted, hi!" I say, stepping into the hug that he offers — he feels safe, and whatever worries that flutter in me that I'm not even consciously thinking of float away.

Pulling me away, his hands still sit on my upper forearms " haven't seen you since Liverpool, you been ok?" he asks, not like he's doing it to be polite and actually because he cares as I nod.

And my eyes flicker from the sound of heels clicking against the floor " she's just been a busy little bee haven't you sweet?" my mums voice makes me smile as I also nod in reply.

" very much so." I say, fighting the smile I feel the constant buzzing of my phone, knowing exactly who it is, " rushed off of my little feet."

Ted holds the door for us as we walk inside the pub, a place I don't I've set foot in in months. The people who I can only assume are the regulars by the afc Richmond regalia that they don look at me as if I've grown another head. In their defence, it isn't everyday you see a regular vogue front cover model in your local.

" ay, you see the milk sisters anywhere?" Ted asks and after scanning the room once over I shake my head " want me to skim the backroom?" Ted hits his punch line and I'm amused unlike my mum who seems extremely on edge.

" don't make me regret this." she tells Ted.

He nods " oh, don't worry imma be an udder gentleman." I can't stop the smile from curving on my lips as I bow my head trying to conceal my clear amusement from my mum.

" ay, I wonder if they've ever seen the film.." he pauses momentarily " Bridget Jones' dairy."

Laughter that I hope is silent leaves my lips as Ted continues with his milk-related comedy routine "sorry, that's not my breastmilk pun."

Mum's posture straightens as she turns to Ted "oh my god, this was a horrible idea." she states before pointing to the door " seriously please go home."

I turn to beg my mum to let Ted stay, but I think at the same time we notice Rupert. Who I haven't seen since the infamous gala - he looks as smug as ever and makes me feel like regurgitating my breakfast this morning.

" there they are!" he states, mine and my mums face remain cold as ice. The woman who I remember hanging off my father's arm at the end of the gala,  mainly because she's only five years older than me approaching us beside him. I've heard of their relationship in the papers, although I sincerely hoped she had made a run for it.

"Rupert, what are you doing here?" mum eventually asks as Ted pivots to stand beside us.

" We came to celebrate." he says,

" did you get your free pensioners buss pass ?" my question is answered through a stern gaze from my father before he goes back to ignoring me.

An introduction between mum and Rupert's latest victim that is mainly there name being repeated that even confuses me.