Sasquatch to the Moon

8: When in Norway

HÅKON

The stupidly in love gets worse when we get to Norway. It's a short drive in relation to what we do on a weekly basis for work so we just buckle down and get it done, the girls and Leo, however, don't really do long drives often so they're a little wilder.

The stupidly in love steps up a notch when we settle down for an early dinner, planning on wandering the city and checking into a hotel before hitting a little bit of a pre-planned bar-crawl. Which, I can tell, Rocket is anxious about. I am too.

"I still can't believe..." he mumbles, staring down at the tacos in front of him. "Fish."

"Try it," I urge, getting a weird look from him and laughter from the rest of the table. "C'mon it's just cod."

He lifts a hand and I cut him off again.

"You lived in Boston for four years and you're telling me you don't eat cod?"

With that, he scoffs a little insult at me and picks up the soft-shell, going straight for it. "F'course I eat cod I just lived..." he swallows. "In landlocked states my whole life and then- yeah." He lets that flavor settle on his tongue. "It's actually not bad."

"Oh thank god." The group shares one basic response, then I get a slap on the back. "Alright, he's accepted, he eats fish!" Vera laughs. "Would've been a shame if your Swedish ass had brought home a guy that didn't like seafood."

"It's already a shame with him, our ancestors are rolling around in their graves thinking about him." Isa mumbles over a mouthful.

I turn to her, a little confused. "Being gay-"

"You're allergic to shellfish. You, a Swede, in a country that practically exists on seafood, half of you is from another country that practically exists off seafood. You're allergic to shellfish."

"Okay listen-" I start off but Rocket is buckled over laughing before I can get anywhere.

The next three hours are actually a ton of fun, Rocket and I don't get recognized at all and we manage to get around some of Oslo and show him things that we've seen before. He finds it to be an absolute blast, which, makes me happy like some dumb idiot. I'm just his boyfriend, and every time it crosses my mind to use his boyfriend I get a little giddy, I'm just his boyfriend and I'm getting to do normal boyfriend things with him, I even held his hand for a couple minutes before he jogged off to hop over a pylon on the side of the road.

Then it's time for the bar crawl that Vera has been overhyped about for a couple hours.

I'm staring at Rocket, he's staring back at me, we're standing just a few feet away from everyone in some weird little corner just like we did at Casey's in the winter.

"I don't know about you," he shouts, "but I'm really going to bank on the whole Norwegians don't watch hockey thing, if that's okay." He tips up his drink. "I wanna just be your boyfriend in one of the worlds most liberal places. For the love of god."

"What?" I ask. "That's so risky-"

"Håkon people only recognize you with a full playoff beard or a clean face. Your hair has never been that long, you're big, yeah, but you, unless looked at closely, are not exactly recognizable and I'm a backup fucking goalie. Nobody recognizes me anyway."

I think about it for a second, alcohol warm in my stomach. "Okay, but-" the but is barely out of my mouth before he's got my hand and he's dragging me toward the girls and Leo.

"Whatcha doing?" Isa asks me, specifically. "I know this is a little out of your comfort zone but-"

I tip up my drink. "When in Norway." I comment, then finish the sentence. "Being half drunk is a waste of money."