...ion's share of the work while Sam lazed around, and, being honest with himself, he wasn't quite sure why he kept agreeing to help her. This time, though, it was perhaps a little more than the obligation of a friend that got him to grudgingly agree to help Sam with her project.
After hanging up the phone, he packed his laptop up in his backpack, and, checking to make sure his mother wasn't anywhere in sight, grabbed a condom from the box in his drawer as he retrieved a fresh pair of socks. Dropping the little foil packet into his backpack, he made a quick exit, shouting a short "Mom, going out, won't be back 'till late, love you, bye!" as he grabbed his keys and sped out the door.
Sam let him in when he pulled up to her curb twenty minutes later.
"So how much have you actually done?" Freddie asked as he proceeded into the kitchen, leaving his shoes at the door.
"Does looking at narwhals on ZapLook count?" Sam asked, following him.
Freddie sighed and rolled his eyes. He put his backpack down on the table and unzipped it. "No," he said, pulling out his laptop and setting it down. He flipped the screen open and powered it up as he took a seat.
"Didn't think so," Sam said, pulling out a chair and sitting across from him.
A couple hours passed—Freddie had honestly lost count, his conception of time having been devoured by a veritable flood of narwhals,...