Page 60 of Pansies

That was kind of the opposite of whatever it was he’d been expecting. Especially after the conversation they’d just had. He was about to say no and insist on some kind of answer, when Fen pushed his glasses onto the top of his head, and Alfie forgot basically everything. Instead he went all chick-flick silly because Fen’s eyes were naked, and beautiful, and looking right up at him. And Fen was monochrome in the moonlight, all silver and shadows and secrets. “Well…if you really want. Just round the car park, though, okay?”

Fen nodded eagerly.

They got into the car, and Alfie drove them round the corner, where they swapped sides and Alfie smooshed himself gingerly into the passenger seat. It felt so wrong.

“You can drive, right?”

Fen gave him a look. “Yes, of course. I just had to sell my car.”

He turned the key in the ignition, and the Sagaris shuddered in response—in response to someone who wasn’t Alfie—the needles performing their dance, the engine stirring itself from slumber like a lion. Fen released the handbrake, put his foot down, and the car leapt forward. Then juddered to a bone-jarring, neck-snapping halt.

Alfie actually yelled.

Fen…Fen laughed. Kind of wildly. “Sorry. God. God.”

“Mate. Seriously. Be careful. There’s no traction control.”

“It’s got a bit of a kick.”

“Yeah, she has.”

Alfie was just about ready to call the experiment off when, suddenly, they were moving again, smoothly this time, at least as smooth as the Sagaris ever was. They thundered back and forth across the car park, spinning occasionally wide at Fen’s attempts to corner. Alfie’s hands were clutched white-knuckled against his thighs, but really, there was no need to panic. He reminded himself he’d been exactly the same until he got used to her. All that power and lightness, the way she roared. For a TVR, she handled pretty well. And Fen seemed to know what he was doing. It was fine. It was all going to be fine.

“Can I take her for a spin?”

No. Absolutely not.Never. “Uh.”

“Please? I’m sick of going round in circles.”

No. No. No.“Uh.”

“It’s Friday night. The roads will be empty. I won’t hurt anybody. Or damage your car.”

There were a million things Fen could have said or done that might have made Alfie say yes. He could have looked at him. Or touched him. Reminded him how shitty he’d been in the past. Or of his recent pathetic failure to hang a shower rail. But Fen didn’t do that, which was maybe why Alfie volunteered his agreement. “Yeah, okay. But carefully, right?”

Fen’s smile was moon bright as he careened them out of the car park.

It wasn’t careful. Not by anyone’s definition. But it wasn’t dangerous. Well, not for anything except Alfie’s insurance. And Fen had been right: the roads were pretty clear.

So it was fine. Absolutely fine.

But Alfie was still tense all the way to his toes. He forced himself to look out the window. At the sea and the sky, blurred to the same shade of dark. And that was why, even though he knew every quiver and growl of the Sagaris probably better than he knew his own body, it took him a while to notice they were edging seventy in a forty zone. He yelped out Fen’s name, and the car slowed almost at once.

The look Fen flashed him was utterly unrepentant. He was all gleams. His grin, and the uncertain light playing over his glasses. It would have been so hot except Alfie felt nothing but a faint sense of foreboding. He would have done pretty much anything to make Fen happy—even letting him take the wheel of his beloved car, a privilege afforded to no one—but this didn’t seem to be actually making him happy. Whatever was going on with Fen right now, it wasn’t joy. It was some brittle, sharp-edged thing, like his anger. Another part of his too-suddenly revealed grief.

Alfie seriously wanted his car back. “Think that’s enough for now, eh?”

Instant disappointment. “A little longer?”

God, Fen sounded like a kid at bedtime. So, instead of saying what he meant, which was,No, stop, just stop, and let me hold you again, Alfie found himself agreeing idiotically. “Just”—he cleared his throat—“Maybe take it easy like?”

A nod from Fen, but this time Alfie was keeping an eye on him. Both eyes. And if he’d had any extras, they’d have been on the case too. The dial twitched, always on the edge of too much, too fast, but it was never quite enough that Alfie felt he could say anything.

He could tell Fen was pushing his luck and doing it deliberately. Yet there was nothing Alfie could do to stop it, except be a total arsehole and insist Fen get out of his car. And the problem with that strategy was that Alfie didn’t want to be a total arsehole. Not to Fen. Not ever again.

If this had been comfort driving, Alfie would have understood. He’d done a lot of that himself, when he needed to feel in control or have some space. Not quite travelling anywhere. More like movement where your decisions were simple—left, right, straight on—and yours, and none of them mattered at all. The problem was, though, this wasn’t that. This was something else. Something reckless and a little bit hopeless, like trying to run away from a monster that had already got you. It would have made him sad, if it wasn’t his car, and he wasn’t stuck there in the passenger seat, worried and unable to help.

That was when he realised Fen had been talking to him. “Sorry, what?”

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