Drop Dead | Sam Fender

Chapter Fifty

"Not pale like she hasn't seen the fuckin' sun, I mean she don't look very well," he snorted.

"It's probably just the makeup." I shrugged off his concern. In all honesty, I was feeling a little lightheaded but I didn't want a bit of dizziness to ruin my night.

"What's probably just the makeup?" Dean inquired.

"Urgh, nowt!" I groaned.

"It's not nowt, she looks ill," Tom stressed.

"Ya do a bit," Dean muttered.

"It's just her makeup," Harlow frowned.

"See!" I exclaimed. "Tom, Dean, I love yous both, but I'm fine."

"Why wouldn't you be?" Sam questioned as he sidestepped the sofa with two bottles of lager in his hands.

"Cheers," I muttered, groaning as he shifted me to sit down, pulling me into his lap due to the lack of seating. "They reckon I look pale but I'm fine."

"Ya do look a lil' pale, Scarl," he replied whilst studying me carefully.

"I'm fine," I repeated for what felt like the millionth time, tangling my hand in his hair in an attempt to distract him. He didn't broach the topic any further but I could see the disbelieving look on his face. It was the same one he gave me last month at his mam's. Luckily the topic wasn't brought up again and the conversation was diverted to something a little less sombre.

Sam

My concerns for Rory were higher than they had ever been. Yes, I knew she had makeup on but her lips were practically blue and her face as white as a sheet. It was a hard fact to ignore but finding the delicate line between when to confront her and when not to was a hard one to navigate. I knew now wasn't the time or place for it, however, I was concerned that she would pass out at any moment.

It might have been unrelated, but another thing I noticed was the weight that she had lost, especially as she sat on my lap. It felt as though she weighed absolutely nothing. It wasn't something I had fixed on at first but when I took other things into consideration, it became oddly suspicious.

She was regularly complaining of exhaustion and although it was something I never quite believed fully, her morning routine had altered. She had been getting up at half past five almost every day to go running. It was no wonder she was tired all the time. It was something she had neglected to tell me. It was only when Jamie had inquired about her new hobby had I found out, although he was convinced it was an entirely innocent one at that. I wasn't so sure.

I wasn't entirely sure what was going on with her but I was determined to find out. Whatever it was was taking a toll on her and I was desperate to help her no matter how much she resented it.

"Scarl, can we talk?" I whispered to her. I felt her entire body tense and immediately, I regretted my choice of words. I squeezed her hip assuringly and pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder before she stood from my lap. I watched in concern as she steadied herself, her body swaying like a fragile flower in the wind and her eyes blinking rapidly, quickly standing to stabilise her.

"I'm fine," she assured me before I could open my mouth. It was like she could read my mind, although, my look of concern was probably a dead giveaway. "We'll be back now." The two of us were silent as we made our way outside, the cold chill of the winter air hitting us like a brick. "What's wrong?"

I pursed my lips together as I studied her carefully, resting my hands on her hips as I stared down at her. "Is everything alreet?"

"Is that all ya wanted us for?" she huffed, fiddling with the collar of my t-shirt and avoiding my gaze in the process. "I told ya, I'm fine."

"Cut the bullshit," I told her firmly. "Don't think I didn't notice the way you were swaying just now."

"I just stood up too quickly, Sam, it's perfectly normal," she smiled softly as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

"I'm worried, ya don't look well at all," I sighed. "Ya don't have to lie to us if you don't feel well, ya know. You're allowed to be ill." There was a pregnant pause, silence filling the air around us as she stared at me, her lips pulled into a tight line.

"Alreet," she mumbled. "Maybe I'm not fine... I just feel a bit dizzy, s'all."

"Why didn't ya say anything?" I asked, my brows knitting together. "We can go home if ya like."

"I don't wanna," she pouted.

"But if you're feeling dizzy-"

"This is why I didn't say nothing," she groaned lightly. "I don't wanna go home. We're all having a nice time. It's just a little light-headedness, nothing super serious."

I wasn't entirely convinced. "You'll tell us if it gets worse?" I inquired.

"Yes."

"No more drinking either," I told her sternly.

"Aw, Sam," she grumbled.

"I'm serious, Scarl," I spoke. "It's only gan make you worse and I don't want ya to end up in the bloody hospital."

"I know," she sighed. "Fine, no more drinking."

"Thank you," I smiled softly, pressing my lips against her forehead in a gentle kiss. "C'mon, let's go back inside."