'Did you come around here just to start a fight? Drop dead.'
Sam's difficulty with relationships stems all the way back to his adolescence. He hasn't had it easy growing up in the Northeast of England but he managed to escape his teens unscathed. Mo...
I knew Sam was struggling, even if he didn't tell me. I knew. He had been job searching for a while and had finally landed a gig pulling pints at our local pub. It was nothing much, below minimum wage at best, cash in hand, but it was something to help him get by. Don't get me wrong, my dad and I weren't rich by any means but we were never on the verge of plunging below the poverty line like many of the families around North Shields were. It was a fight to try and keep yourself afloat. You never knew if one sick day would get you booted from your home. Poverty was a sickness that plagued my hometown and it was a cycle I was so desperate to break, especially for my loved ones.
I could tell that the stress his mam was under to keep a roof over their heads was only fuelling his, even though she tried to hide it. She had recently been diagnosed with fibromyalgia and I knew that she was desperately trying to continue working, despite the fact she was in so much pain, but it just wasn't an option. Sam and I had walked in on her on the living room floor surrounded by bills and letters from the council. I remember my heart sinking when I saw her red-rimmed eyes and desperately wanted to go comfort her, but Sam had ushered me upstairs. I think he was embarrassed by the fact and didn't want me to know of their struggles, which broke my heart. Every time I would ask about his new job, he would brush it off as wanting a little extra. I never pushed it.
On the bright side, Daniel, the landlord of the Low Lights was nice enough to let Sam play on the weekends during his shift. He had been so excited, his happiness warming my heart. The first time he'd played, I felt my heart soar. I was so proud of him, it was unbelievable.
There was an unspoken rule that Harlow, Dean and Tom, and sometimes Joe, would go to the Low Lights every Saturday to support him, which was why Harlow had come over to get ourselves ready for the night. It wasn't an overly dressy occasion, just something casual, but Harlow and I liked to make a mountain out of a molehill. Any excuse to hang out and dress ourselves up.
"Put these on," Harlow told me as she threw a pair of denim skinny jeans at me. I rolled my eyes at her demanding and hastily tried to pull the tight-fitting pants on. Keyword; tried.
"They won't fit!" I huffed as I desperately tried to pull them up my legs.
"What size are they?" she frowned, coming over to help me pull them up to no avail.
"A ten," I muttered in embarrassment as my face grew warm. I knew I had put some weight on, but seriously? I scowled to myself, ripping the fabric off and throwing them in a pile in the corner of my room, somewhere I couldn't see. Out of sight, out of mind. "S'alreet, I'll just put a different pair on. My acid wash ones have a bit more give." I tried to brush the incident off, but it stuck in the forefront of my mind.
"Rora?" Harlow called, pulling me from my thoughts. I hummed in response. "You're a bit quiet by there. Y'alreet?"
"Yeah, m'fine," I assured her with a smile, one I wasn't sure came across as very genuine. "I'll be back now, I'm just gan pop to the toilet."
"Okay," she replied, her tone unsure but didn't choose to question it.
I made a beeline for the downstairs bathroom as it was the one I knew hid the weighing scales. You're just gan make yourself feel worse, Rory, my mind screamed. But I couldn't stop myself. My curiosity got the better of me and I seriously wish it hadn't when I stared down at the numbers on the scale. I felt sick. I had put on near enough a stone since the last time I weighed myself. A stone. The mirror above the sink taunted me as I studied myself. When had my cheeks gotten so full? I hadn't even noticed the extra pockets of fat on my waist until my hands were subconsciously pinching at them.
A knock on the door startled me and immediately dropped my hands as though I was a child who had just been caught with her hand in the sweetie jar. Harlow's voice echoed through the door, "Rory? Are ya ready? The lads are here."
"Uh, yeah. I'll be oot now," I assured her, running the tap and washing my hands not to raise any suspicion. I quickly dried them and exited, taking note of the deep frown on my best friend's face, although I was convinced I was making it up. "Ready?"
"Yeah, aye."
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The lads, Harlow and I all found ourselves surrounding one of the tables of the Low Lights near the small stage in the corner. Sam was due to start his set in around half an hour as he was still working behind the bar. It was Saturday, so it was fairly busy and he was needed to ease the workload.
"You're awful quiet tonight, Rora," Dean commented, nudging me with his elbow.
"She was the same with us an' all," Harlow agreed, shooting you a concerned look.
"Hmm? Oh, I'm just tired," I mumbled with a small smile.
"Reet," Dean spoke, although his tone was disbelieving. He did attempt to enquire further, but I only shushed him as Sam's set began.
"How did we never notice how fit he was when he was in school?" The voice of one of the girls in Sam's year at school gained my attention, my body stiffening as I heard her words.
"I know," one of her friends gushed. "I think I'm gan ask him oot."
"Don't bother, he's seeing that Rory from the year below. Been together for about a year now," the third member of the group snorted. A year next month actually. It was Felicity Edmunds who spoke, more affectionately known as Flick to her friends. She had spoken to me a few times and seemed nice enough, but her friends' comments made me hate them all.
"I thought they were best friends?" the first frowned.
"They were, then they got together. Don't you remember the song she uploaded on YouTube last Christmas?" Flick told her.
"Well, I'm sure they'll break up soon," she spoke optimistically.
"Fat chance of that, he's in love with her. Heather reckons he's like a puppy when it comes to Aurora Nightingale," she shrugged, earning a scowl from her friend. Internally, I was gleaming. Take that, I thought to myself, turning my attention back to my boyfriend, who stood in front of the mic stand, his guitar hanging around his neck. I had to give it to the lasses, Sam was nothing short of attractive, but as Felicity said, he was taken.
"Alreet you?" Sam grinned once he'd finished his set, plopping down next to me with a pint in hand.
"Hi," I smiled. His presence chased away all my negative thoughts, his arm that slid around my waist sending shivers up my spine. He pressed a short kiss against my lips whilst his arm pulled me in closer before he took a long sip from his drink. "You were absolutely class."
"Cheers, my love," he grinned, squeezing my hip lightly as the lads voiced their agreement.
"Ya were alreet like," Harlow shrugged indifferently, earning a loud bout of laughter from the group.
