Drop Dead | Sam Fender

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty Three

Aurora

"Hiya," I smiled, greeting Finley with a short and sweet hug and pressing a soft kiss to his stubbled cheek.

We had finally gotten around to going on that date and I was nervous, to say the least. It was the first date I had gone on in over three years, longer if you considered the fact my 'dates' with Sam stopped feeling like dates after being with him for so long. Not in a bad way. It just meant that those pre-date jitters were skipped over and I was able to relax and enjoy the night rather than worry about pleasing anyone.

"Wow, you look gorgeous," he complimented as he drank me in.

I felt shy under his gaze, though not in a way I was used to feeling. Whenever Sam used to look at me the way Finley was, I could always feel the utter adoration emanating from him, could see the look of love glinting in his eyes. I felt like Scarlett. His world. But as Finley's eyes roamed over me, I felt like Rory Nightingale. The persona of me that was put out for others to consume. Like an object.

He probably wasn't even thinking that way but I had grown distrustful of men in general, having my fair share of pigs in my DMs. And although things hadn't worked out between Sam and me, he never once made me feel uncomfortable.

"Thank you," I flushed, my cheeks growing warm.

We had gone for a low-key restaurant in one of the more quiet parts of London and as we were seated, I didn't know whether I was glad that we were so secluded or gutted that there would be no opportunity for distraction.

"You finally went back home then?" he smiled from across the table. He knew bits of my past though not the whole story. Your ex-boyfriend wasn't really something to bring up to a potential love interest.

"Yeah," I mumbled. "Bit the bullet. Wasn't so bad."

"See, I told you that you were worrying over nothing," he chuckled. Although he meant it in jest, I couldn't help but wince at the way he brushed my genuine worries off as nothing. I knew I was getting into my own head already, desperate to find flaws so I could justify running away. It was a cycle I was trapped in, exacerbated by my thoughts of Sam.

"Aye," I laughed forcefully, thanking whatever higher power there was internally when a waiter came to take our drinks orders. We rattled off our orders and thanked the man as he left before turning our attention back to each other. "Er, how was your mam's birthday?"

"It was really nice," he beamed. "We threw her a surprise party. She loved it."

"Aww, that's lush," I smiled.

"How was your trip back? You haven't told me much, how's your parents?" he asked politely. God, did he not know?

"Oh, er, it's just me and my dad... my mam died when I was twelve," I explained awkwardly, reaching up to scratch the back of my neck.

"Oh my god, Rory, I am so sorry!" he gasped. "I-I didn't realise, shit, I feel awful."

"It's alreet," I assured him as I subconsciously reached out to place my hand over his on the tablecloth, immediately regretting my decision. "Yer didn't know."

"Are you and your dad close then?" he inquired, a small smile tugging at his lips as he entwined his fingers with mine.

"Yeah," I told him. "He's my best friend like."

"He's not one of them overprotective types, is he?" he joked. "I'd rather keep my face intact."

Bold of you to assume you're gonna meet him, I thought to myself.

"He can be when he wants to be," I shrugged as a teasing smile graced my lips. "Just make sure you don't give him reason to be."

"Noted," he gulped.