She's Electric | Sam Fender

12 - Sam

We walk in silence back to the hotel. Well, me and Cass do. I feel sorry for London, to be honest. A load of pissed Geordies on the loose is something Newcastle struggles to deal with at times, let alone a city that isn't used to our drinking habits. I'm just waiting for the lads to break into toon chants or smash a window. A night out in Newcastle is a dangerous activity and has landed all of us in A&E on multiple occasions. I'd like to think I've grown out of that now though, that I'm out of the angry phase that ruined my late teens and early twenties. I felt the need to prove my masculinity by getting into stupid fights over stupid things which usually ended in someone's head going through a window, or someone getting glassed. Friday Fighting was about the time I got chinned. It took over my whole world and it's something I never want to go back to.

Cass looks like she's having fun though. She keeps laughing at Dean, Drew and Joe, who have reverted back to being 12. I don't know how well we're all going to get on, but I really hope we stay in touch. I like her. Not like that. She's just a nice person that doesn't make me feel horribly insecure. The imposter syndrome has put itself on hold for a little while.

"What floor are you on?" She asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"5," I reply, "And we're the only ones on the floor. I think they're trying to separate us from innocent members of the public."

She smirks a little, "I'll have to pop up and see you later. We're on 3."

"Joe, Dean and Tom are sharing 504. Me and Drew are in room 505. "

"I'm going back to 5-0-5," She says under her breath.

I finish the lyric, "If it's a 7-hour flight or a 45-minute drive."

Her lips prick up into a smile, "In my imagination, you're waiting lying on your side."

"With your hands between your thighs." I sing the last line of the chorus, sounding nothing like Alex Turner.

Cass pulls out her phone. Springsteen stops and the unmistakable intro to Brianstorm starts. "It's my favourite Arctic album," She grins. 

I nod, making a note of it in my head. "It's got some canny tunes like." 

She looks up at the sky. It's starting to get dark now and even through the rainclouds a few stars poke through.

"The sky is so tragically beautiful. A graveyard of stars," She says. 

I'm slightly taken aback by it, I'll be honest, "That's beautiful."

"I don't know who's credited with saying it, but I think it's gorgeous."

And it is. Just like her.

A/N: I have so many ideas but actually writing them is another thing. I apologise