• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 300 0

He'd lit a cigarette while fragments of last night's experiences were dragging themselves past her throbbing eyes. The smell of the smoke reminded her she had a stomach, one that seemed particularly adept at turning.

'It's all right,' he added, exhaling. 'You already thanked me last night.'

'What?' asked Sam, quietly.

'Grr,' said Fitz, looking coyly at the plant between his legs. 'You were an animal.'

'I was a what ?' asked Sam, wide eyes large with horror.

Fitz slid further down the wall he was leaning against. 'It was beautiful, Sam, really beautiful...'

'But I wouldn't... I mean, I'm not that kind of... How could I...?' Sam rocked her head from side to side. With him ?

Fitz slithered back towards the mattress, looking up at her from under his eyebrows. 'Don't suppose you feel like thanking me again, do you?'

'Don't touch me!' cried Sam, scrambling woozily out of bed as he crawled in the other side, dragging the blanket with her. She turned and looked at him, and realised she'd rather have the blanket covering him up than herself.

'You're a lying bastard, Fitz Kreiner!' she said, flinging the fabric at him.

'How could you?'

Fitz protested. 'What? I think you'll find I did save your life...'

'Yeah, you did, and thanks for that, but does that give you the right to take advantage of me while I'm bloody unconscious?'

'I just took off your gear and put you to bed.'

Sam shuddered, found her dress and started putting it on.

'Not like I wanted a medal or anything,' Fitz grumbled.

'What are you playing at?' Sam cried, realising she was putting the dress on back to front and struggling to rearrange herself without showing Fitz anything else. 'I mean, that man, Chubby... Did you put him to bed in his Y-fronts? Will I find him downstairs?'

Fitz looked away. 'He's dead,' he said. 'They killed him.'

Sam stopped struggling with the dress, and stared at him.

'I mean, you were out cold, he was dead, no one was about. What was I meant to do?' His voice was higher-pitched, his hands cradling his knees through the blanket. 'It's not the sort of thing that tends to happen to me on the average Friday night...'

Sam looked down at the floor. 'I'm probably a jinx,' she said. She breathed deeply. 'So, have you called the police?'

'No way! How was I gonna explain that one?'

'Well, they'll have found him by now, they must’ve done.'

Fitz settled back down under the blanket. 'What, by six in the morning?

Doubt it.' He looked at her, and took another drag. 'Anyway. I'm not getting involved.'

'Bit late for that, isn't it?' said Sam.

'Nothing to do with me.'

'Oh, and I suppose I'm nothing to do with you, either, is that it?' Sam asked him. 'Just someone you were trying to shag five minutes ago.'

Fitz sat up, and his blue eyes were suddenly piercing. 'What is it with you? I mean, there you are, barely out of your teens and yet...'

Sam looked down at herself - dress askew, one arm tucked under the fabric - and then looked back at him a little self-consciously. 'What?'

He slowly shook his head. 'I don't know. It's just that... Well, none of this really shocks you, does it? You're more upset by me making a pass at you than anything else.'

'You don't know what you're talking about.'

'Maybe, maybe not. I don't know. But there's something you're not telling me, isn't there?'

Sam suddenly wondered why she was feeling on the defensive. Is there?'

she said, manoeuvring the dress round again, revealing nothing.

'You know there is - don't kid a kidder. I've been hiding more things about myself than you could -'

'Including any stray morals or principles?' flashed Sam, straightening herself down.

'Yeah, well... So what are you about, then, Miss High and Mighty Sam the Jinx?"

'Why should I tell you anything at all, you pervert?'

Fitz ignored her. 'You try to come over all hip, don't you, so cool... But I'll bet you couldn't tell Arthur and Raymond from John Smith and the Common Men.'

Sam looked around for her shoes.

'Well?' Fitz challenged.

'Enjoy