I’m sorry. But also, that was funny.
I’m glad my suffering provides you with some amusement. At least it serves a higher purpose, then.
I promise I won’t laugh too much.
I’m not laughing at all, but only because it hurts too much. Who knew I had core muscles? I sure do now.
Oh, and I forgot to mention that my feet look like I’ve been tortured.
Oy. How bad is it?
Like I’ve been tortured?
My phone buzzed, and I fumbled it, almost dropping the device in my haste to answer the FaceTime call. “Hi.”
“Hi. Show me your feet.”
“Excuse me? Men usually buy me dinner first before they ask me to undress.”
He snorted. “Sorry. I promise I don’t have a foot fetish. I just wanna make sure nothing is getting infected. EMT, remember?”
“Plus lifeguard, CPR instructor, wilderness guide, and search and rescue volunteer. Yes, I remember.”
“Humor me, Onno,” he said much softer now. I loved the way he said my name. How could I refuse?
After checking my feet were at least clean—if still gross because of all the blisters—I aimed the camera at my feet.
Howell whistled between his teeth. “Oh boy, that does look painful.”
“Trust me, it is.”
“You should’ve said something during the hike. I noticed you were uncomfortable and figured your boots were bothering you, but I didn’t realize it was this bad.”
At least I’d managed to tough it out. “There was nothing you could’ve done anyway. It’s not like I could’ve taken them off or, you know, have you carry me down the mountain.”
Another one of those low, sexy chuckles. “Which I would have, in a worst-case scenario, but you’re wrong that I couldn’thave helped. I always bring special anti-blister tape I could’ve put on to prevent it from getting this bad.”
Crap. I hadn’t known. “Oh. Now I feel stupid.”
“For next time.”
I aimed the camera back at my face. “That’s a funny joke. There will not be a next time. I think I’ve humiliated myself enough, no?”
His face grew more serious than I had expected. “I don’t think you’ve humiliated yourself at all. You tried something new and dared to take a risk. That’s brave. And I was hoping you’d book another tour with me.”
“Oh.”
Not my most eloquent answer, but it was all I had. My English, usually fairly decent, was failing me now.
“I liked hanging out with you,” Howell said.
“Oh.”
“So I was wondering if you wanted to do it again.”
“Oh.”
“Hang out, I mean. Not necessarily on another tour. You don’t have to pay, is what I’m trying to say.”
