On the Fritz

Chapter 8 - Part 2

He kicked the concrete again and let out some strangled, frustrated groan. He wanted to slam the calculator down and shatter its stupid screen so that Rafael would never pass a test again. He blinked, feeling his eyes grow hot.

He had already raised it over the hard ground when he heard his name being called. He looked up to see Will standing on his own a few metres from him, his eyes bright. Slowly, Fritz lowered the calculator, and wiped at his cheeks.

"What were you doing?" Will asked cautiously.

"Going to break my calculator," Fritz croaked out.

"We could run it over with my car," Will suggested. Fritz let out a half-hearted sort of snicker, before looking down - beneath the loose-fitting hem of Will's light blue jeans were his Reeboks once again.

"I like your shoes," Fritz said. "Wish I had some like those."

"I'm kind of into them," Will admitted, a soft smile playing on his face. "I don't know if I want to give them back."

"Never wore them anyway," he lied.

"You look so horrible," Will said suddenly. "Do you want to come over and see my cats again?"

Fritz gritted his teeth, and gave Will a small shake of his head.

"I reckon they miss you," Will told him. "People say cats don't have feelings but they're wrong, and my ones keep wondering when you're coming over again. Maybe I'll even give you your shoes back if you come."

"You should give them to me anyway," Fritz said back, but Will was already grabbing his sleeve so they could link arms, pulling him in the direction of his car.

"I do want to be open with you," Will then said, digging in his back pocket with his free hand.

"Oh God," Fritz said under his breath.

"I only just got my licence so this will not be a smooth experience for either of us," Will said, and Fritz looked over, horrified.

"You're joking."

"Nope!" Will said cheerfully.

The Volkswagen Golf Sport in front of him clicked unlocked, and Fritz watched on as Will eagerly squeezed himself into the driver's seat. Will leaned over, threw open the passenger door, and started buckling his seatbelt.

Visibly nervous, Fritz approached the car, before slowly inching himself in. He clicked the seatbelt and pulled it tight, before immediately grabbing onto the assist handle. Will looked up, steadied himself, and turned the key in the ignition.

"I actually feel more scared having you here," Will said suddenly.

"I can drive," Fritz offered. "Please let me drive."

"Ohh, no," Will said. "She'll be right."

With these solid words of assurance, Will edged out of the parking space. Fritz could hear him taking slow and deliberate inhales and exhales, and he was trying not to laugh. The car jolted to a stop, and Will winced.

"You're fine," Fritz got out, still suppressing a grin. "You're fine."

"I'm fine," Will repeated. "Okay. Hard part's done."

"Don't you still need to get on the motorway?" Fritz asked, and Will kept his eyes on the steering wheel.

After a few moments of silence, he hit the accelerator, and began driving at a very slow pace through the carpark. Fritz was still traumatised, but he couldn't lie, watching Will grip the wheel so hard his knuckles were white was entertaining. However, it would have been more entertaining if he was not in the car.