Drop Dead | Sam Fender

Chapter Sixty Six

"Shall we just skip to the part where I knock them fuckin' teeth oot ya mouth instead?" she asked, stepping towards me warningly with a raised fist.

"Whoa!" I flinched, holding my hands up in front of my face protectively. "I know I fucked up, I don't need ya to tell us that."

"Why?" she demanded, lowering her clenched fist and crossing her arms across her chest.

"Why what?" I frowned.

"Why did ya do it?" she spat, pivoting on the balls of her feet to create more space between us. Knowing her violent tendencies, it was probably to stop her from attacking me.

"I dunna," I muttered.

"You're gan have to do a lot better than I dunna if ya want to keep all your bones intact," she spoke warningly, spinning around to face me and pointing an accusatory finger at me.

"Fuckin' hell," I gaped. I had seen Harlow angry many of times, usually the reason for it, but I hadn't seen her this pissed off, ever. "I was drunk-"

"Drunk," she scoffed, rolling her eyes with a bitter laugh.

"-and I was upset. I missed Rory and I saw this lass," I sighed. "Reminded me of her."

"So, rather than doing what a normal person would do and call them, ya decided to snog a random stranger 'cause she reminded you of the ex-girlfriend ya broke up with the day after her birthday 'cause ya needed space," she growled.

Ouch. The reality of the situation hit me like a brick. I hadn't put it into context in my drunken stupor but when Harlow put it as plainly as that, it was like a slap to the face. "Well, when ya put it like that-"

"It sounds like an arsey thing to do?" she interjected. I stared at her silently. "That's because it is, Sam! And she's still fuckin' defending you over it! Because in her eyes, you can't do no wrong!"

For once, I understood Harlow's exasperation as she shoved me harshly in the chest. "She is? Why?" I frowned.

"Because that girl is a fuckin' angel and she loves you!" she groaned.

I was silent for a moment as I trawled over her words. "Even now? After... I..."

"Yes," she spoke frustratedly. "Do ya really think there's anything ya could do that she wouldn't forgive ya for?"

"Fuck," I cursed, dragging a hand down my face. "I've really fucked up."

"Ya know, she said she's done with getting her hopes up with you," she told me gravely. "All you do is crush them. And it's always me and Dean that've got to pick up the pieces."

"I don't do it on purpose," I admitted quietly, averting my eyes toward the floor. There was something about Harlow being disappointed in me that made me fill with shame. Usually, I was on the receiving end of her anger, sometimes her mocking but never, ever, her disappointment. It was foreign land I was unsure of how to navigate.

"Of course, ya don't," she sighed. "I might give ya shit, Sam, but ya've never once made me doubt that you love her. Ever. You're just a fuckin' idiot."

"Shit," I mumbled, throwing myself on my bed and laying my head in my hands. "Harlow, what do I do?"

"It's yourself ya need to be asking that," she told me earnestly. I heard a brief shuffling and the bed beside me dip, Harlow sitting next to me. I could tell she was apprehensive. I wasn't usually the one she would comfort and offer her advice. "Rory said sommat... about not wanting to force ya into a relationship ya don't want to be in."

"But I do," I admitted exasperatedly as I raised my head.

"Then ya need to tell her," she muttered.

"That's the thing, I don't think I should," I whispered.

"Are ya being serious reet now? Just when I think you're getting somewhere," she scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief.

"You're getting it all wrong, Harls. I want what's best for her and... I honestly don't think that's me," I sighed. "Like ya said, all I do is crush her hopes and break her heart. I don't want to be that person."

"Sam," she frowned.

"Maybe we're just better off as friends," I murmured. "We didn't have these problems before we got together."

"That lass would bend over backwards if it meant making you happy," she told me. "Take some time to think about it. It's not a decision ya have to rush into but she won't wait for ya forever." She pushed herself up and brushed her clothes off, pausing for a moment. "Just... do me a favour, Sam?"

"Aye?" I asked.

"Apologise to her. She might tell you ya've not done owt wrong but I know her and deep down I know she's torn up," she informed me. My eyes fell from Harlow's face to the carpeted floor at her feet as the guilt washed over me like a wave, my head nodding in agreement. "Good. Ya know, it's nice to leave here without a sore throat."

"It's nice to escape without any injuries," I joked as I stood up, my figure immediately towering over her. "Thank you, Harls."

"I'm here for Rora, not you," she coughed but I could see through her words.

I smiled, "I don't doubt it but that's not what I'm thanking ya for."

"Oh," she mumbled. "Then, what're ya thanking me for?"

"For always looking oot for her. She's amazing and life can be shite when it wants to be," I shrugged. "Thanks for protecting her, even if it is from me sometimes."

"She makes life more bearable," she admitted with a faint smile before her expression contorted into a scowl. "Tell anyone 'bout this and I'll kill ya, d'ya understand?"

My eyes widened. "Fuckin' hell, thought we did some bonding there," I muttered.

"I've got a reputation to uphold," she scowled.

"You're just a big softie really," I teased. She grunted in annoyance but left without another word.

Well, at least I was still breathing.