18

Delicate - Taylor Swift

I take a sip of my steaming coffee, savouring the warmth spreading through my hands as I cup the mug. Liv and I are at Tracey's Coffee Stop, our usual spot for morning coffee and catch-ups. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the faint scent of baked goods. Liv is cupping her own mug, a content smile playing on her lips as she takes a sip.

"Wasn't it so nice to go away with everyone this weekend?" she asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

I nod, a small smile playing on my face. "It really was. And celebrating Isla and Xav's announcement was the icing on the cake. Such exciting news."

Liv beams, taking a sip of her coffee. "And even more exciting that I'm going to be an aunty." We both laugh, enjoying the moment of lightness, yet the mention of our weekend away stirs up thoughts that I hadn't realised I buried inside.

It's been seven days since I last saw Bradley—since he kissed me. Twice .

After our weekend away, we'd left early in the morning on Monday—luckily, I had taken the day off. Bradley had dropped me off at home after getting back to Liv's house, and the drive home had been filled with tension, like a thick fog we couldn't see through. Unspoken words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. He'd seemed stuck in his head, lost in his thoughts, and I wanted nothing more than to know what was running through his mind.

We'd said goodbye; he kissed me on the cheek, and that's it. Not a word from him since. Just when I thought I'd finally made peace with the fact that nothing would ever happen between us, that it was all just a silly little crush, bam!

He kisses me and throws everything into chaos. Now, I'm back at square one.

Oh, and I've been swearing lately, too. It's like he's rewired my brain. The other day at dinner with my parents, I casually dropped the word ‘shit,' and they looked at me like I'd grown two heads.

Maybe I have, who knows?

All I do know is that it's been a hectic week, and all I want is for things to go back to the way they were, or for something more to just happen between us. Does he want me or not? I wouldn't even know the first thing about ‘wanting' a guy, let alone dating one. I'm too hesitant to ask Liv because she'll want to know who it is, and knowing me, I'd blurt it out. She's my best friend, and I can't even talk to her about this because it's her bloody brother.

Olivia's mood changes suddenly, and her face sours. "Bradley has been in a mood since we got back."

My face drops, and I ask a little too eagerly, "Oh. Why? How?" before clearing my throat and trying to sound casual.

She watches me for a moment before answering. "He's just been extra standoffish these last few days."

I add, trying to sound nonchalant, "Maybe he has a lot going on at work?" She shakes her head, shrugging.

"Not sure. Maybe. He's just been a real prick."

Clearing my throat, I continue, "Weird. He'd mentioned that he was looking forward to the trip. I wonder what changed his mood."

Liv's eyes narrow slightly, and she asks, "Did he? Have you two become friends now? You seemed oddly close on the trip."

My blood runs cold, and I quickly try to play it off. "Oh, no, we just spoke a bit on the bushwalk, got to know each other a bit, that's all. He seemed nice. Wasn't rude at all."

Liv nods, her brows furrowing in thought. "Yeah, I noticed that."

Oh, no, does she know something? Were Bradley and I that obvious?

"N-noticed what?" I ask, my words stuttering slightly.

Liv seems lost in thought for a moment before she responds, "That he was acting strangely over the weekend. Happier maybe? Did he say anything else to you?"

I shake my head quickly. "Nope."

Liv nods, taking a sip of her coffee, seeming satisfied with my answer. I force a neutral expression, yet my heart sinks at the thought of Bradley being distant. So, it's not just with me.

Am I the reason? Oh, goodness me.

Clearing my throat, I circle back to Liv's previous mention. "Well, hopefully, whatever it is that he's going through, he snaps out of it soon."

Liv smiles. "Yeah. Hopefully," before changing the subject to lighter topics. But I can't shake the worry that settles in the pit of my stomach.

At recess, I find myself in my classroom amidst the cheerful chaos of kindergarteners. Crayons and drawings litter the tables, and the walls proudly display their latest artistic triumphs. The familiar scent of glue and crayons fills the air, creating a strangely comforting atmosphere.

As I diligently mark our weekly spelling test, placing yet another shiny star sticker next to a correct answer, I can't help but find my thoughts drifting back to Bradley.

Why does he have to be so confusing? One minute he's kissing me like I'm the only woman in the world, and the next, he's completely silent. I glance at the clock. Only fifteen more minutes left until the kids come back, and I've barely made a dent in these tests. I should be focusing on these adorable attempts at spelling, not on a guy who's turned my brain to mush.

How hard can it be to get a sign from him? A text? A call?

I mean, he has my number now!

Anything to say that kiss meant something. But nope. Radio silence.

I sigh, leaning back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. I need to talk to someone about this, but Liv's off-limits. I can just picture her reaction if she knew I was crushing on her brother. The horror!

Maybe I could talk to Imogen or Isla, but even that feels risky.

No. Maybe I just need to be patient. Maybe he's just sorting out his own feelings. But how long am I supposed to wait? How long can I keep pretending everything is fine when all I want is another moment with him, to understand what's really going on between us?

"Focus, Amelia," I tell myself, shaking my head.

My door bursts open and Jamie comes barreling into the room, huffing and puffing like she's just run a marathon.

"I swear, if one more ten-year-old tries to outsmart me, I'm going to lose it," she says dramatically, flopping into the chair opposite my desk. I chuckle, grateful for the distraction.

"What happened this time?"

"Do you remember Jason? The one who thinks he's a mini Einstein?"

"What did he do now?" I ask, incredulously.

"He corrected my maths. My maths, Amelia! I was explaining fractions, and then he stands up and says, ‘Actually, Miss Smith, that should be seven, not eight.' The worst part? He was right!"

"Oh." I laugh. "Is that it?"

She throws her hands up in the air. "Yes! What do you mean? I've been outsmarted by a ten-year-old. The sass on that kid! He even gave me a look, like, ‘What kind of teacher are you?' "

I shake my head, still laughing. "Kids these days, huh? They keep us on our toes." Jamie leans forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially.

"And you should've seen the way the other kids looked at me after that. Like I'd lost all credibility. They were practically ready to take over the class."

"Sounds like you've had a day."

She groans, leaning back in her chair. "You have no idea. And here I was thinking Year five would be easier than Year six."

We both laugh, the tension of the day easing a bit. I look back at the spelling tests, but my mind wanders again to Bradley. Maybe talking to Jamie about him wouldn't be such a bad idea, but I hesitate.

Jamie stretches, clearly not in any rush to get back to her classroom. "So, how are things with you? You seem… distracted."

I shrug, trying to play it cool. "Just a lot on my mind. You know how it is."

Jamie knows exactly what happened over the weekend because as soon as I got back to work on Tuesday, Kristie, Amanda, and Jaime bombarded me with questions. They never miss a thing.

"Still nothing?" Jamie asks, her voice soft yet curious..

I shake my head, feeling a knot tightening in my stomach. "No, nothing."

Jaime leans forward. "Have you tried reaching out to him?"

"I'm not sure if I should," I confess, uncertainty lacing my voice. "What if he doesn't want to talk? "

"Amelia, if he kissed you—twice—clearly, he feels something. Maybe he's just figuring things out," she suggests gently.

"Maybe he's feeling guilty because I'm Liv's best friend." I sigh heavily, my thoughts racing with guilt and uncertainty. We've both done something sneaky, and now it's weighing on me. "I mean, shit. This is bad."

Jamie frowns. "Why would it be bad? You just kissed him. If anything, he initiated it first, right?"

"Yeah, but I kissed him back."

"Well, I'd bloody hope so," Jamie scoffs, laughing. "Sure, keeping it under wraps might raise eyebrows for some, but what happened between you two isn't wrong! You're a grown woman, Amelia."

She takes a breath before continuing, "This is your life, your experience. No one should stand in your way, not even your best friend."

True. Ugh, she's right. But it doesn't stop me from feeling like a shitty person. Still, Jamie is right. I am a grown woman with needs and desires. I want to experience things, to live my life.

The bell rings, signalling the end of recess. Any minute now, the kids will come barreling back into the classroom. Jamie stands up, stretching.

"Well, that's my cue. Time to face the sass again."

"Good luck," I say with a smile. She grins, giving me a quick hug.

"You, too. And remember, you've got us to support you. Whatever happens."

"Thanks, Jamie," I say, the weight of my thoughts pressing down on me. "I needed to hear that."

"Anytime," she replies, heading to the door.

I nod, trying to internalise her words. Maybe I just need to let go and see where this goes. Even if it scares me, even if it feels wrong, I can't deny what I want.

And right now, I want Bradley.

It's a quiet afternoon, and I'm lost in the world of oil paints in my apartment. After a long day at work, this is my sanctuary. I'm working on my latest collection of portraits, currently painting Millie blowing bubbles, her face lit up with the biggest smile.

I flick my eyes to the small photo beside the canvas, the one Kat took of Millie. Capturing that joy in paint is both a challenge and a thrill. I internally pat myself on the back for the progress I've made so far. The features are coming together nicely, though getting everything realistic and proportional is tricky.

Painting is my escape, but it isn't always easy. Each brushstroke requires precision, patience, and a lot of love. I pride myself on my ability to paint realism, a skill I've honed over the years.

Placing my brush in the cup of water beside me, I pull out my phone and snap a picture of the portrait. I quickly send it to my sister with a smile. The sense of accomplishment fills me as I look at Millie's joyful face on the canvas .

As I think about whom to paint next, Bradley's face pops into my mind. He has such striking features—from his sculpted jaw to his full lips, the stubble that frames his face, and those piercing blue eyes.

My goodness, I'm getting all flustered just thinking about it!

But how would I do that?

It's not like I have a photo of him. Not that I need one. I could probably draw him from memory. I mean, I've had ten years to admire him from afar, so he's practically ingrained in the back of my head. I giggle to myself, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves.

Could I really paint Bradley? The thought is both thrilling and terrifying, but it might be worth a try.

Maybe, just maybe, I'll finally capture those dreamy blue eyes on canvas.