Our noses are touching.
“But, I don’t want to play golf,” I say.
“If you try golf, I’ll try skiing,” he says.
My mono vision has turned Sven into one giant uni-brow and a pool of blue and green eyes with little flecks of brown.
“Okay, I will try golfing.”
“Do you promise?”
I will do anything for Sven.
And then we kiss.
“I thought you were Norwegian.” I say.
“Then why can’t you ski?”
“I am from Dane,” he says.