– Hey Beautiful!
– Hey Love!
– How was your day?
. . .
– Sorry, just got home. Still in my bags.
– You stayed in class that late?
– No. Intramural kickball game.
– They have that in Oslo, too?
– Well, let’s just say I coaxed my fellow international students to challenge the computer science nerds.
– So I’m a nerd?
– Not you, silly. You’re special.
– What’s that supposed to mean?
– That I love you, knucklehead. You’re no nerd.
– You’re my geek.
– That’s so much better.
– I mean it in the nicest of ways. Why so serious?
– Don’t give me that. Read what you wrote. You come off as touchy.
– There’s nothing. Crappy morning at work is all.
– Come on, spill it out.
– Did you win?
– The game. Did the internationals kick Norway’s butt?
– Oh. No, we got our butts served to us. Nerds can kick, apparently.
– How is that a surprise? I was the star kicker on our team.
– Sure. But like I said: you’re special. An exception. You still haven’t answered my question.
– So is it a league like we have at Concordia University?
– Not yet.
– I miss being team captain.
– Hey, you’ll be my captain again this coming September.
– That’s still two full months away. I miss you.
– Aw, I miss you too. Now stop dodging my question.
– Why didn’t you pick up last night?
– You called? Is that what it’s about?
– No. I just felt like spending my calling card minutes to listen to your roomie’s answering machine. In Dutch.
– Don’t be a smartass.
– Where were you?
– Out with friends.
– Why didn’t you text me?
– I didn’t think about it.
– What, I’m not important enough to you?
– You’re kidding, right?
– That’s like the third time you missed my call in two weeks.
– You know, I have a life, here. Look, I love you, but you’re not my everything.
– You love me, BUT? It’s that Greek guy, isn’t it?
– Oh come on. Don’t even go there.
– Can’t you delete that stupid picture from Facebook?
– What, I’m not allowed to have fun with friends?
– You’re cheek to cheek with him. All flushed and smiles.
– I TOLD you. We were at a club dancing among FRIENDS.
– You know what? Screw this. When I’m back in Montreal, the only balls I’ll kick will be yours.