She's Electric | Sam Fender

xviii - Cassia

(spooky playlist here) https://open.spotify.com/playlist/31nqN4ibuJoKvKWSfEPnIC?si=442cce95c54f40fb

It's been just over a month since I last saw Sam and the boys; Dad went completely off it straight after the gig so we left almost immediately. Instead of driving straight back up to Manchester, we spent a little while in the house in London, which is where Dad prefers it. Maybe Manchester has too many bad memories, or he just enjoys the hustle and bustle of the capital, but either way, I wouldn't be surprised if he sells the house further North and the family lives down here full time.

Dad got the train back home a fortnight ago, but I stayed down here. I'm desperate to move out; living with my dad, his new girlfriend Debbie and my 4 siblings is hardly fun. Molly's 2 years younger than me, and my half-sister, who was the product of one of Dad's affairs. I didn't meet her until last year, at a gig down in London, but she's nice enough. Lennon is 3 years younger and Gene is 5. My youngest sibling, my sister Gemma, is only 6, making her 17 years younger than me (and also the result of an affair). I have no full siblings, but I've always got on well with my brothers. Having a sister who is so much younger than me is strange, but I love her to pieces.

It's chucking it down with rain, it has been all day, so I sit gazing at the storm from an armchair by the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room. It's Halloween tomorrow and as always, I can't wait. Halloween is my second favourite holiday; Christmas is number 1. I love planning things, so holidays and celebrations are my favourite thing in the world. New Year's Eve is fun, but I'm usually too drunk to remember what happened. Halloween is much more relaxed and chill, which is why I love it.

My phone buzzes beside me, I was going to turn it off and try and ignore it for a little bit while I read, but I'm constantly worried in case something important happens.

Instagram
Message from sam_fender Heyyyyy....

Tap to read

I open the message reluctantly, wondering why Sam's texting me at 11 pm on a Wednesday night.

Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

hi

onh ji jor sre u?

you're drunk

nahhhhh nor eesly

pls turn on autocorrect, you're not making any sense

sorryyyyy

thank you
so, where are you? are you safe?

London and yeah I'm fine
Are you still in London

yeah
why?

I'd love to see you again
😉

i don't think that's a good idea

Why?
I've missed you
U there?
Casssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
read 11:09

It's all vaguely reminiscent of Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High? I send him a final message, "ring me when you're not entirely shitfaced. ill talk then." and go to bed because there's no point staying awake.

-~-

The clock reads 5:37 when I'm woken by my phone buzzing beside me. It's the Instagram dial tone. I don't bother to look at who's calling me, I just answer it, purely to stop the beeping.

"Hello?" Sam's voice on the other end of the line croaks, "I've pretty much sobered up. You said you'd talk to me now."

I sigh, regretting the message I sent yesterday, "You're nothing if not persistent. How's the hangover?"

"Horrific. Me head's thumping. Come over and kiss it better?" He can't be that hungover if he's acting like he is. "We're at a Holiday Inn this time, I think. And I've got the room to myself."

I roll my eyes, "Fine. I'll come and say hello. That's it though. And if you're really nice you might just get invited to my party tonight."

"Be on me best behaviour. Promise." I can practically hear him grinning at me "It's the Holiday Inn in the city centre. I'm in Room 43, but give us a bell when you're here and I'll meet you downstairs."

I yawn, "Can it wait a few hours?"

"Most definitely not," Sam says with mock seriousness.

I know we'll end up having sex, we'll both take a shower together, and then I'll leave. That's obviously what's going to happen. Neither of us is in love, it's just a no strings attached thing. That's all it is, and ever will be.

With that thought in my mind, I roll out of bed with a groan, butterflies fluttering in my stomach at the prospect of seeing him again, of feeling his hands against my skin, his lips on mine.