Cameron was tense. Not just tense, but tense for Cameron. If you were to shove a piece of coal up his ass, you would get a diamond, but the diamond would probably be crushed shortly after coming into existence.
Ferris had taken another day off. He'd been taking more and more of them ever since the English Exchange student had arrived. This time there'd been no plan to rescue Sloane from class, and Cameron had only been called to be persuaded to lend the car to Ferris.
Not Cameron's car--the Ferrari. He was fairly certain that something had happened to the Ferrari, but whatever it was, the car had made a miraculous recovery(1), just in time for Ferris and the English exchange student to borrow it.
That was another weird thing--Cameron had been fairly sure that exchange students came from countries that didn't speak English, not the countries that had invented the language.
Tyres screeched. Cameron jumped and was barely able to repress a shriek. The Ferrari backed into the garage. The English exchange student grinned at Cameron as he put the car in park. "What's wrong with you?" he asked.
"Cameron's just a little nervous," said Ferris. "Relax, Cameron. Tony's a great driver. Aren't you, Tony?"
"I've had very few complaints."
This was probably the worst part. Ferris rarely let Cameron drive his own car--he would've killed for a chance to drive the Ferrari. "Did anything--" Cameron began.
"Car's fine," the English exchange student said in a lazy hiss. He snaked an arm around Ferris's waist. "Let's go back to your house."
Ferris smiled at Cameron and shrugged. His friend could practically hear the Buellerism to rationalise this: "Life moves pretty fast...so you might as well blow off your friends to screw a Brit."
Once they were gone, Cameron checked the car. Despite the lack of evidence, he was convinced they'd had sex in it. But there wasn't a single scratch on the car, the interior was spotless, and the odometer was exactly the same as it had been that morning.
(1)Close, but not quite.