Page 167 of Texting, Trouble & Touchdowns
Lucian: Better. I told you it was nothing to worry about. I’m ready for tomorrow’s game.
Olivia: So you’re saying I should cancel my plans and sit on the couch yelling like a maniac every time you get tackled?
Lucian: Yes, but only if you yell things like “That’s my emotional support running back!” and throw snacks.
Olivia: Sarah and I will be there in spirit. She’s making a jersey out of lint and disappointment.
Lucian: Tell her I love her. Tell her I love you both.
Olivia: (Beat) You’re just trying to distract me from the fact that my drywall guy ghosted (Mike) me again.
Lucian: I can come punch a wall for you.
Olivia: Thanks, but I need the wall intact. Unlike your playbook during that fumble last week.
Lucian: Low blow. You’re ruthless. I love it.
Olivia: You’re a menace. I miss it.
Lucian: You miss me?
Olivia: . . . Sarah misses you. She keeps growling at the entrance like she’s expecting you to pop out holding a bone and an apology.
Lucian: Tell her I’ll be home just for her in two weeks for the bye.
Olivia: Really? Just for her?
Lucian: You’ll be working. I’ll stay at home and spend quality time with our girl. By the way, thought I could maybe stop by the clinic before heading home. You know, make sure the goats aren’t unionizing.
Olivia: Samson’s already created a Discord server.
Lucian: I’ll bring snacks and a cease-and-desist letter.
Olivia: Bring yourself. That’s enough.
Lucian: Say that again.
Olivia: Bring yourself?
Lucian: No. The other thing. The part where I’m enough.
Olivia: Don’t get cocky.
Lucian: Oh baby, I’m already cocky. Just waiting to be back home so you can take care of it.
Olivia: Wow. Did you just flirt and make a dick joke in the same sentence?
Lucian: That’s called a two-point conversion. I practice daily.
Olivia: Well, I hope you’re practicing hydration too. The game’s at a high altitude, remember?
Lucian: Look at you pretending not to care while knowing my game time and elevation.
Olivia: Shut up and send a locker room selfie, Crawford.
Lucian: () [Sweaty, post-practice selfie. Hair damp. Shirt riding up slightly. Caption: “Your future patient. Diagnosis: Misses you.”]
Olivia: I just dropped my phone in Sarah’s water bowl. You’re responsible for my emotional damage.
