“You’re wrong. Idistracted you.”
“Fernando, I’m really not in the mood to play the blame game.” I rub my temples. “If you want to blame yourself, fine. But that’s on you. There’s no way you’ll manage to convince me I didn’t play a part in how the afternoon went down too.”
“Is your head bothering you?” he asks with concern.
“It’s my shoulders and upper back.”
“Do you want me to run down to the pharmacy and see if they have any muscle relaxants?”
“No. I can’t stand the smell of it.”
“I don’t blame you, that stuff is strong.” His lips twitch. “What about a heating pad? I have one in my room you can borrow.”
I sit down on the edge of the bed. “Do you nap with it like a cat and a warm blanket?” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.
“Sometimes. I have arthritis in my knees and ankles. The heat helps make the flares manageable. Especially when I’m traveling or sitting for long periods.”
“Oh.” Heat rushes up my ears and a horrible thought crosses my mind. “Has it been worse because of all the driving?”
“No,” he answers a little too quickly.
“Are you telling the truth, or trying to be a gentleman about it?” I cross my arms.
“The truth. It’s been the same as it always is. I have good days and bad days. It’s the price I pay for participating in a sport where you are basically jumping on cold concrete. But back-to-back-to-back days don’t help the situation.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
He shrugs. “I’m used to it.”
I resist the urge to face-palm and shout, “Men!”, but settle for taking a deep breath. “If you wouldn’t mind sharing your heating pad, I’d appreciate it. I’ll make sure I get it back to you before I go to bed. There’s one spot I can’t reach between my shoulder blades that’s been bothering me.”
“Let me go grab it. Don’t worry about returning it to me. I can manage without it for a few days. In the meantime, don’t wait for me to start eating. Help yourself. I ordered six tacos. There should be enough for the two of us. They’re all carne asada, in case you’re wondering.”
While he steps out of the room, I poke my head in the bag. Steam tickles my nose, and I can’t resist the smell. I reach inside and grab two, excited to see how they compare to back home. I move to the foot of the bed, unroll the foil, and take a greedy bite.
Fernando reappears with a heating pad in hand. “I forgot to grab drinks. I had these two water bottles in my room, but if you want something else, I can run down to the vending machine.”
I shake my head. “No, water is perfect. Thanks.”
He nods, helping himself to a taco and some chips and sitting on the chair opposite the table.
For a few minutes, the room is filled with the sound of us crunching on chips and tacos. Eventually, I break the silence between us.
“Fernando?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I ask you something personal? You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.”
He chews and swallows slowly. “We’re beyond the point of you needing to ask for permission. What’s on your mind?”
I dip a chip into the container of guacamole I’ve commandeered. “What freaked you out earlier at the rink?”
Placing his food down, he blinks slowly. “I’m psychic. I knew that was the first question you were going to ask.”
“Like I said, if you don’t want to answer, don’t.” I sense he’s fighting an internal battle with himself.
“No, it’s okay.” He takes a deep breath. “Just before you hit the wall, I saw someone I haven’t seen in a couple years.”
