June Horner's entire life came crashing down in one night.
After a vengeful ex-boyfriend spread rumours about her, destroying her reputation and making her undesirable by nearly every acting and modelling agency in existence, she was lost for months...
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d e l i c a t e
˜"*°•.˜"*°•.•°*"˜.•°*"˜
and if you're ever tired of being known for who you know, you know you'll always know me.
.҉ .҉ .҉
"WOULD YOU LIKE to sit by me?" Was the last thing Charles said before we were both whisked away by friends and family. I would have said yes, I think.
Instead, I was sat between Elle and my dad. Geri and Bluebell were beside him. The dinner was nice, it was a five course meal and a set menu. I caught up with everyone on my table, they asked where I'd been, how work was going, how I was holding up. They all spoke to me the same way everyone did, these days. Carefully selected words, mindful of my situation. I'm delicate. Fragile.
My phone vibrates with text messages in my handbag. My dad can be quite particular when it comes to table manners, no phones at the table being his bigger rule, but when I see Charles' contact on my homescreen I make an exception.
imessage
charless it's very boring at the ferrari table
how are you doing?
june it's boring here too :( everyone is weird with me lol
charless we should have just sat together then
"June," my dad says. "No phones at the table."
I tuck my phone away as the waiters begin to bring out our deserts. Elle is talking very animatedly to one of the women on our table, laughing at all of her jokes. She shuffles her chair closer to talk better and at the same time, Blue steps into the gap between our chairs, crouching beside me.
"I just wanted to let you know that the driver for Ferrari has been staring at the back of your head ever since you sat down," she whispers, subtly cocking her head in the direction of the table on our left.
I glance over, and sure enough Charles is staring right through everyone and everything else, he's looking at me. Only me. Our eyes meet and a little smile forms on his face, he doesn't look away but I have to, feeling my face heat up.
Blue is staring at me, there's a question in her eyes but I can tell she's not sure if she should ask.
"Dad," I start, turning away from her. "Can you swap with Blue?" He mutters something in response, but moves anyway, moving a seat over as Blue settles into her new seat, smoothing out her dress.
"So, you and Charles?" She whispers, leaning in not to be overheard. There's a playful little smirk on her face as she wiggles her eyebrows at her own question.
"It's not like that," I say, waving her off, "we've just been talking."
"Since when?" Blue asks, shuffling closer.
"Abu Dhabi," I say, some of the details of that night are still fuzzy. "We met at the after party, I don't remember too much but I gave him my number and we started talking a little over text but then when everything with Jack happened we didn't really talk much."
"Until?" Blue prodded, cutting a piece of her desert in two with her fork.
"Until," I say, "he texted me on Christmas Eve to check up on me."
There's an undescribable look on Blue's face, something like a proud little smirk. "How often do you talk? Like few times a week? Once a day?"
"A few times day," I answer curtly, trying to ignore the little smirk on her face. "He sends me good morning texts," I add, feeling my face heat up.
"And is it..." she asks with an overdramatic wink, I know what she's implying.
I take out my phone to show her. A little part of me is embarrassed, feeling like this is a really personal part of myself that I'm offering up, but I know Blue. She'll only judge me if it's bad.
"Okay," she says after a minute of scrolling, "I think he's into you."
I laugh and wave her off. "He's just being polite. We're not teenagers."
"Sure," Blue hums, "and Charles has politely been staring holes through you the entire dinner."
I give her a light slap on the arm. "He's just bored."
Blue lets out a dramatic "Mhm," in response, folding her arms over her chest. "But I do remember a little birdie telling me about your little crush when he was a rookie," she adds, that same little smirk coming back.
I love Blue, I do. She's my little sister. But sometimes I wish she just simply wouldn't. Same with Nora, who was definitely the little birdie. Love her, but sometimes I do not at all.
"That was years ago," I defend, feeling completely blindsided. "I was with Jack, I just thought he was cute."
She gags, "God, don't mention that name. My friends have been running a hate page for him for a few years now."
I laugh, remembering Charles telling me that he follows a hate page dedicated to Jack, I wonder if it's Blue's friend's.
"But, I was talking to Max and he said that—" Blue's sentence comes to an abrupt stop and she's suddenly very interested in her desert.
"What?" I ask, feeling a hand on the back of my chair.
"I'll tell you later," she mouths, just as:
"I hope I'm not interrupting," Charles' voice comes from behind me. When I turn in my chair to look, he's smiling down at me. I can't help but smile back, my eyes drifting to his two perfect dimples.
"I'm Charles," he introduces himself to Blue, who had shovelled down a large piece of cake and was now covering her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Sorry," she almost chokes. "I'm Bluebell. I've heard a lot about you Charles."
I kick her under the table.
"All good things, I hope," he smirks, his hand grips my shoulder for a second, sending a fluttering feeling from where his hand had been down to my stomach.
"Very good," Blue says, smiling innocently at me. I kick her again. "Ow," she mutters, folding her hands on her lap.
"Charles," my dad says, standing up, a serious look on his face. "It looks like you're at the wrong table, mate."
Charles stands up straighter and shakes my dad's outstretched hand. "Yes, well, I just wanted to have a quick chat with—"
"With my daughter?" He asks, folding his arms across his chest and standing closer to my seat, forcing Charles to take a step back.
"Papa, arrête ça," I scold through a smile.
"No, no, it's okay," Charles says, his eyes catch mine and I feel my face soften, the smile becoming genuine. "T'inquiète, June. I'm sorry, Mr Horner. Désolé."
He gives me a little nod then leaves for his table again.
Blue leans over to say, "I'm guessing your dad doesn't know, then."
"No," I answer, watching my dad take his seat at the table again. "No he does not."
