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Dan gets the car for his twenty-first birthday, a small second-hand Renault. It’s green and smells of cigarettes, and Dan can’t stop grinning when he takes it for its first drive, to the supermarket with his dad. “Giving her a name, Danny V?” his dad asks at the Brigstowe Avenue traffic lights.
“She’s a she?” Dan says dubiously.
“I think cars are always shes.” His dad taps his thick fingers on the dashboard. “Maybe that’s boats.”
“Yeah, it’s boats, Dad. You’re going senile.”
His dad laughs, and calls him cheeky, and Dan finds that after that he can’t stop thinking of the car as a girl.
He goes to pick Lewis up from his shift at the swimming pool the next day, still enchanted by the ease of getting into a car of his own and driving in a direction he’s chosen to drive in. “Nice,” Lewis says when he sees the car, and taps two fingers affectionately against the back of Dan’s hand. Dan smiles down at him. “Happy birthday for yesterday. Your dinner thing’s still at seven tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah,” Dan says, unlocking the car and holding open the door for Lewis, who wrinkles his nose but gets in. By the time he’s gone round and got into the driver’s seat, Lewis has already started poking at the music system.
“Speakers any good?” Lewis says as Dan puts the key in the ignition. “I’ve got a… I made you a mix CD.” His eyes dart towards Dan. Dan reaches out a hand and squeezes Lewis’ warm thigh, just once.
“Thanks,” he says softly.
“’S nothing,” Lewis says, his shoulders twitching slightly. “Got you a card as well.” He gets it out of his bag and holds it out. Dan takes it delicately, feeling his mouth curve into an even wider grin. “Don’t open it,” Lewis adds.
“Why not? Is it soppy?” Lewis shrugs, which means yes, and Dan feels a bubble of happiness rise up into his throat. He puts the card into the door pocket beside him, and glances at Lewis’ tense face. “What shall I call the car?” he says abruptly. “Dad says she’s a she.”
“Huh,” Lewis says, sliding his feet up onto the dashboard. “Yeah, maybe. I think cars are shes.”
“That’s what Dad said. What should I name her?”
“I can name her?” Lewis says, and he runs a hand over the handbrake and gear stick.
“Yeah,” Dan says. He’d really just meant to ask for suggestions, but he finds he doesn’t mind the idea of driving a car that Lewis has named.
“Huh,” Lewis says. “Maybe… I dunno. Jane? You like Jane Austen, right?”
“Right,” Dan says, smiling. “You’re free for the rest of the day?” he adds.
“Yeah.” Lewis looks relaxed, aimlessly twisting the volume knob up and down.
“Want to just… drive somewhere? Bet we can get out of London, find a pub. I’ll buy you dinner. Birthday treat!” he adds hastily, as Lewis looks ready to protest.
“We’ll probably get lost,” Lewis says, the corner of his mouth curving up. “Which direction do you go to get out of London, anyway?”
“Like, down,” Dan says, and immediately backtracks as Lewis starts to laugh. “You know what I mean! South.”
“Uh huh,” Lewis says. “I’m filled with confidence.”
“I’ve got mum and dad’s A-to-Z, look in the glove compartment.”
Lewis finds the map, and settles back in his seat, opening it over his lap. “Right,” he says, looking at the index page. “We’re on Tree Street.” He flips a few pages. “Got us. So if we go down,” he reaches out and pokes Dan’s side gently as he follows the route through the A-to-Z, “it starts getting greener in maybe an hour.” He frowns. “I’m not sure, not great at maps.”
“Sounds good,” Dan says. “Can we listen to your CD?”
Lewis’ mouth slants to one side. “It might be embarrassing,” he says.
“I’m breaking up with you unless it’s full of One Direction love songs,” Dan says. “I need romance on my special day.”
“Shut up, dickhead,” Lewis says, dimple sliding into view on his cheek. “It’s just some stuff.”
“Go on then. We need music for our road trip.”
“It’s not that romantic,” Lewis says, but he fishes it out of his bag and puts it into the car’s CD player. He glances around the deserted car park, and then leans over and kisses the corner of Dan’s mouth, just a glancing brush, as something slow and bass-heavy starts to roll out of the speakers. “Come on, drive, Jeeves.” He puts a hand on Dan’s shoulder as he shifts himself back into his own seat, and Dan puts his own hand up to it, squeezes it hard in lieu of everything they don’t really say. He starts Jane a moment later, and they roll out of the car park, heading south.