Sasquatch to the Moon

8: When in Norway

Isa bursts out laughing. "Makes you wonder why we came here for this."

I turn away from Rocket for a split second, "clearly it's Vera's thing for Norwegians."

Isa laughs and turns around to spot Vera already making out with some hot blonde girl wearing just a crop top and shorts. "Vera's Vera, we let her do what she pleases."

I just nod, then lean forward and run a finger up Rocket's back, he turns to me, just over his shoulder, hair a fucking wreck, lithe fingers around the core of a bottle, collared shirt somewhat unbuttoned. Six foot three of pro hockey and not letting me forget a damn centimeter.

"You gonna go slow with that?" I glance at the container. "We gotta last at least a little bit."

He grins before taking down more. "My tolerance is shit, Håkon, yours is worse, you know that." His hand weaves up into my hair, gripping a good handful and pulling me down to his lips. "Might have to get you another round, two hasn't gotten into that thick skull of yours."

"Two has definitely gotten into yours." I respond, catching him by the hip and pulling him back to me. "We're still in the first shift of this."

"Fuck, there's more shifts of this?"

"Yeah, three, actually." I comment. "This, then later we go to like the big stuff and if we had friends here, there's an afterparty."

His eyes go wide. "Norwegians are fucking crazy. How many drinks is that?"

"More than you and I can handle." I ruffle his hair. "A lot more. A striking amount more."

"Dear fuck, I haven't been sloppy drunk in years, last time I was I let Steph give me a hickey if he bartop danced." He grins up at me. "Doubt I could get you on a bar."

***

He wasn't right but he wasn't wrong either. I'm not on a bar, I'm leaning against one, drunk as all hell, watching Milo, my very gay boyfriend, dance in a not so parent-friendly way with Vera, my sisters very gay best friend. It's fucking hilarious. Leo's got one arm slung around my shoulders and one arm slung around Isa's and I'm trying desperately to make conversation with a Norwegian girl next to me but Swedish is my main language, English is my second, and I can only do conversational Norwegian if I focus hard enough.

"Lytte!" I shout at her over the music. "Jeg er homophil!" I don't know fucking anything but formal Norwegian so I'm pretty damn sure I just shouted 'I'm a homosexual' across the bar at her.

She responds something fast and from the four words I got out of it, she's asking about the guy standing next to me.

"Den fryen?" I point at him.

"Ja!"

"Jeg vet ikke?" I poke him on the shoulder and then point at the girl. "Kjenner du henne?"

He frowns, then looks at the girl, then back at me. "Kjæresten din?" He asks.

I take a second with that before remembering that kjæreste is supposed to be gender neutral. "Nei!" I manage.

I watch them fire like a hundred words a minute back and forth at each other in actual Norwegian and before I know it, they're out dancing next to Rocket and Vera.

"I'm a fucking fantastic wingman." I drawl out at Leo in Swedish. "Workin' magic per usual."

He laughs, then points out at my boyfriend who I temporarily forgot to keep an eye on. "That boy of yours is better at girls than I am and I'm straight!" He manages, half english, half Swedish, horrible grammar, all that jazz. I look out at Rocket and find him, grinning like an idiot, red across the nose, and arms around three separate girls, attempting to teach them a little foot dance while trying not to stumble and fall. I recognize absolutely none of them and by the blonde hair and tall statues, they're probably from here.