Even with my family there and even though they are asking all sorts of questions.
Mateo starts yawning during dinner, and he sneezes twice, even though I haven’t heard him sneeze a single time before now.
“You’re sleepy,” Annika says.
“Sorry,” Mateo says, since he is as apologetic as a polite German.
“You are sleepy.” I frown. “And you have a cold.”
Mateo left the apartment late at night.
Oh, no.
“Was the T running?” I ask.
“Oh, that’s not important,” he says lightly.
I frown. That means that it wasn’t running.
How did he get home?
“You didn’t try to walk?” I ask.
His eyebrows dart up. “What? No! I live in Somerville.”
Annika leans forward.
“As you know,” he says quickly, then gives a laugh that manages to sound desperate.
I nod, even though I actually have never been to Somerville. It sounds far away. None of the hockey players live in Somerville.
“Mateo didn’t spend the night?” Mama asks.
Mateo stiffens.
I stiffen.
Scheiße.
“I, uh, had an early morning,” Mateo says. “I didn’t want to wake Florian.”
Mama sends me a disapproving glance that I deserve. I have treated my fake boyfriend appallingly. I am so embarrassed.
Annika types something in her phone.
“You live near Porter Square, Mateo?” Annika asks
“Yes.”
“So, it took you two hours to get home with the night buses.”
“You can figure that out?” Mateo looks stunned.
Then he looks embarrassed.
“I mean… I don’t think it took me that long. It didn’t feel that long.”
“It probably felt longer,” Papa says. “You should at least have put your boyfriend in a taxicab, Florian. I am disappointed in you.”
