Roses Are Red

Chapter 21

Warning: Explicit Content

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Autumn

November 21st, 1960

Something was tapping at her window. The sound would wake her up, and she'd ignore it because it was annoying, then she'd fall back asleep again. This cycle took place a couple of times before Samantha finally woke up enough to get irritated. She grumbled curses to herself as she crawled over Eden's sleeping figure next to her. They had gone to the pubs the night before and Eden didn't want to go back home.

Samantha lifted her head to the window and peered out just as another pebble flew up and hit the glass, startling her. Samantha peered out the window to see a figure down below. She concluded that this person, shrouded in darkness, seemed to be the person throwing rocks at her window.

With a huff, Samantha pushed the window up and stuck her head out into the cold night. "Bugger off, whoever you are!"

Just then, another rock flew up and hit her in the middle of her forehead. "Fuck!" she hissed and rubbed the spot between her eyes. "Go away!" She cried out and gripped the window to pull it closed.

"Fuckin' hell--Sammi are ye alright? Did that hit ye? I can't see much from down here!"

Samantha frowned. She must be dreaming, she decided, because the voice of the asshole throwing rocks at her window sounded a lot like George. "Samantha?" The voice called again.

Samantha let go of the bottom of the window and stuck her head out into the cold night once more. "Geo-George?" She asked in disbelief.

"Yeah! I'm comin' round to the front door now. I didn't want to wake up yer mum," he called to her.

Samantha blinked and rubbed her eyes. "Why are you here? Is this real?"

"I'll explain in a mo' love, just please let me in I'm freezin'."

Samantha quickly closed the window and tripped out of her bed. Luckily the sounds of her fumbling to get out of the room didn't wake up Eden. Samantha didn't care about the floorboards creaking as she tip toed down the stairs. She was waiting for herself to wake up from this dream—but before she did she was determined to see George.

When she yanked open the door she was met with what seemed to be a pack mule version of her boyfriend. He had a guitar on his back with an amplifier in his left hand. In his right hand he held the worn out suitcase he had brought with him to Hamburg and two other paper bags. They were filled to the brim with clothes and books and George looked as if he was going to drop them any second. His hair was a greasy mess, he clearly hadn't shaved for a day or so, and he smelled. Samantha didn't really care though. He was here.

He smiled sheepishly at her. "Can I come in?"

Samantha nodded. In a daze she opened the door wider and George waddled in and placed his things down gingerly by the staircase. Then he turned to her and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"I'm not dreaming, right, George? This is real?" Samantha asked. She was standing by the door, completely astounded and still feeling very much asleep.

He chuckled. "Yes, Sammi, yer not dreamin'."

"So if I hug you, you aren't going to disappear?"

He laughed again. "No, I don't think so."