The Second Batgirl

Chapter Eleven: Drunk Confessions

Ever since that night in the training room, Samantha was left feeling even more conflicted about Jason than ever. What had he been trying to imply? It made her so weird, the way he was twisting her heart strings like this. She felt used, discarded, like a crash test dummy. Perhaps when he'd finished practicing his moves on her, he'd go after the real thing.
She couldn't really think, she was too busy worrying about her upcoming exams.
She mocks for her GCSE's were this year, and she was trying hard not to freak out.

For her subjects, she'd taken triple science, double English, maths and further maths, which left her with only two other choices, in which she chose music and economics. She'd immediately regretted taking it, it was very hard to understand. She was starting to wish she'd taken history instead; she wondered if learning about the Russian revolution would be fun. It sounded so.

She came home from school one night exhausted and tired from her studies to go anywhere. She lay down on her bed, and instantly fell asleep.

She woke up, an hour later, from her phone ringing. She lazily moved her hand, and grabbed the buzzing device from her bedside table.

"Heath, Samantha Heath," she said groggily, not bothering to look at the caller ID.

"Hey Sam!" A half dead voice spoke on the other line. The sentence was followed by a hiccup.

"Jason?" Samantha inquired, sitting up. "What are you doing calling at this unGodly hour?"

"It's only eight!" He protested. He sounded heavily drunk. That wasn't a good sign.

"It's actually one," Samantha replied dryly, checking her clock.

"Oh," he mumbled, before giggling a little.

"Jason, how much did you drink?" Asked she said, getting up off her bed, and trying to ignore her waiting biology homework.

"I lost count after number ten," he slurred. Samantha sighed irritably.
"I'll come get you then,"

"You don't need to," he answered, "I'm already outside."

For a second, Samantha didn't believe what she was hearing. So she went to the window, and sure enough, there was a very tipsy looking Jason lingering in the street, looking expectantly at her flat.

When he saw her figure through the glass, he flapped his hand, as if it were to be a wave.

"You're impossible." Samantha stated. "Why don't you just go back to the manor?"

"Don't want to," he mumbled, and through the window, Samantha saw him pout, like a five year old that had been refused cake. "They'll tell me off. Again."

"Oh for God's sake," Samantha groaned, putting a hand to her forehead. "What makes you think I won't do the same?"

"Because you're my bestie," he said, smiling sleazily, before tripping deliriously on to a car.

Samantha was about to lose her temper once more, tempted to yell at him to go away die again.
But she took a deep breath, before mumbling half-heartedly into the phone, "I'll be right down."

She pulled on a jacket, hung up, and quietly evaded waking up her mum, who was in the other room sleeping.
When she got down to the road, Jason was leaning against the car he'd stumbled on, trying to light a cigarette. His movements were slow and miscalculated, so he couldn't get the lighter to work. Every time he failed, he cursed loudly.

"Jason, come on," Samantha tugged at his leather jacket. He looked at her, before smiling widely.

"Sam!" He threw his arms around her, putting his full body weight on her, causing her to almost fall over. He smelled of alcohol, the stench was so strong Samantha was feeling sick. "I knew you'd help me," he slurred, clumsily drawing back.