Page 62 of Pansies

He got out and slammed the door. Took in a deep, deep breath of very cold air.

Came slowly round the car to where Fen was waiting.

Calm, Alfie, be calm. Don’t yell. Don’t be that bloke.

“What the fuck was that?” And Fen…flinched. He didn’t move or pull away, but he flinched. Which made Alfie even less calm. “What the fuck’s the matter with you?”

“N-nothing.” Fen was still leaning away from him, his head bowed very slightly, like he was Jesus fucking Christ turning theother cheek. “But, look, can you just back off a bit? You’re really tall when you’re angry.”2

Suddenly, Alfie felt enormous and crass and sort of lumpen, as if he were going to tear through his own shirt like the Hulk. He blundered backwards, trying to be less, well, big. Looming. Everything. “Fuck, I’m not… I’ve never… I’ve never lifted my hand to anyone. Don’t be scared of me, Fen.” His voice cracked, embarrassing even here in the darkness with only one other man to hear it. “Pleasedon’t be scared of me.”

Fen’s chin came up again. “I’m not.”

“I’m sorry I lost my rag, but I don’t understand why you did that.”

“Honestly, neither do I really.”

“So you hijacked my car for no reason?”

“I wanted to feel something that wasn’t grief.” Pushing past Alfie, Fen climbed onto the gate and sat down on top of it, his feet resting on the lower bar.

Alfie watched him, bemused. “What are you doing now?”

“I’m sitting on this gate?”

“Yeah, but why?”

“Well…” He shifted awkwardly. “I thought you wanted me out of your car so you could drive off and leave me.”

“I’m angry, not a total prick.” Alfie stepped after him. Leaned his elbows on top of the gate and stared at the empty field, lightly speckled here and there by starlight, long grass waving restlessly in the faint breeze. He could feel Fen, just the shape of him, by the heat of his body, the angle of leg and arm and hip.

Fen shrugged. “I wouldn’t have blamed you. I deserved it.”

“Don’t be daft, man.”

“I could have damaged your car.”

Alfie pushed off the gate and wheeled round. Either out ofinstinct, or because he had no choice, Fen parted his knees, and Alfie stepped between them, his hands sliding up Fen’s tight, denim-rough thighs. “I don’t give a fuck about the fucking car. I care about you. She’s got no air bags, you know.”

“You… It… What?”

“She’s got a kerb weight of like a thousand kilograms. No room for air bags.”

“Or traction control.”

“Or anti-lock brakes. If you crash a TVR, you fuckingcrash.”

“Oh my God”—Fen put a hand to his mouth—“you’re driving a death trap.”

“There’s a simple answer to that.”

Fen’s legs, which had just been resting warmly against his sides, actually squeezed. “You’re going to say, ‘Don’t crash,’ aren’t you?”

Alfie grinned. Nodded.

“Don’t smile at me, Alfie Bell. I nearly killed us.”

The slightest of tugs, and Fen was sliding against him, almost into his arms. “Just don’t do it again. You scared the crap out of me, Fen.”

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