One-Timer (Carolina Comets)

Lowell: I told Coach today.

Hollis: Did he freak?

Lowell: Only about the due date.

Hollis: What’s wrong with the due date?

Lowell: We really need to talk about your lack of hockey knowledge.

Lowell: April is playoffs.

Hollis: Oh. And those are important?

Lowell: …

Hollis: I’m kidding!

Hollis: I know it’s important because it determines the Super Bowl winner.

Lowell: I…I can’t. I just can’t.

Hollis: What? Something wrong? *bats lashes*

Lowell: I know you’re just teasing, but words hurt, Hollis. They really, really hurt.

Lowell: I’m going to make it my sole mission to make you love hockey before this baby gets here.

Hollis: We’ll see about that.

Lowell: How are you feeling?

Hollis: Fine.

Lowell: Just fine?

Hollis: I have a human growing inside of me that’s depleting all my energy and making me a hormonal psycho.

Hollis: HOW DO YOU THINK I’M DOING?!

Lowell: Fine.

Hollis: You really don’t need to keep checking in on me every day.

Lowell: It’s MY human growing inside of you that’s depleting all your energy and making you a hormonal psycho.

Lowell: Do you really think I’m not going to be checking in on you?

Hollis: Ugh. Fine. I get it.

Lowell: Thank you. And you’re welcome.

Hollis: Welcome for what? This alien inside of me?

Lowell: Yes. But also for checking in on you.

Hollis: Please. Do NOT act like you’re doing ME a favor. This is all your fault.

Lowell: It takes two.

Hollis: Lowell…

Hollis: Please. I’m tired. I can’t take any more sparring today.

Lowell: Can you just let me know if you actually keep some food down?

Hollis: The doctor said it was fine and I shouldn’t be worried.

Lowell: Okay. Then I’ll worry for the both of us.

Lowell: Just text me, you stubborn woman, okay?

Hollis: Fine.

Lowell: Stop saying fine.

Hollis: Okay…

Hollis: Fine.

Lowell: Calliope

Hollis: No.

Lowell: Good.

Lowell: I hate that name.

Hollis: Then why did you suggest it?

Lowell: Just making sure we’re on the same page.

Hollis: Speaking of page…

Hollis: What about Paige?

Lowell: I’m…indifferent.

Hollis: *eye-roll emoji*

Hollis: Of course you are.

Lowell: I have suggested no less than five names to you this week and this is the first time I’ve rejected one of yours and I get an OF COURSE?!

Lowell: Also, please note it wasn’t an outright no. I just said I’m indifferent.

Hollis: That basically means no.

Lowell: *blinks*

Hollis: *blinks faster*

Lowell: *blinks hard AND faster*

Hollis: It’s really rude of you to argue with a pregnant woman, you know. It causes stress for the baby.

Lowell: Leave her out of this.

Hollis: Or him.

Hollis: We still don’t know yet.

Lowell: It’s a girl. I can feel it.

Hollis: Oh, can you? Can you feel it? Even when it’s not inside your body stealing all of your comfort and joy?

Lowell: Someone is a bit dramatic, no?

Lowell: Would it bring you joy if I had some food delivered?

Hollis: It would bring me joy if you left me alone.

Hollis: And sent a cheeseburger.

Lowell: You still pissed?

Hollis: Yes.

Lowell: Why?

Hollis: A SALAD, LOWELL. You sent me a salad. That’s just…wrong. On many levels.

Lowell: One, I sent a salad because YOU were the one complaining about weight gain on the phone the other night.

Lowell: Two, I was reading a baby book and they said greasy foods probably aren’t the best to consume. They’re hard to digest. I did you a favor.

Hollis: Well, do me another favor—don’t do me any more favors!

Lowell: That’s a very counterproductive request, don’t you think?

Hollis: Remember when I told you I didn’t like you?

Lowell: Yes.

Hollis: Well, somehow, I like you even less today.

Lowell: I’ll remember that for when I happen across a drive-thru and don’t order you any ice cream.

Hollis: You wouldn’t dare.

Lowell: Sorry. I can’t text. I’m busy ordering food.

Hollis: Shut up and get me chocolate.

Hollis: NO! Swirl.

Hollis: Wait. Chocolate.

Hollis: Lowell?

Lowell: This is an automated message. The person you are trying to reach is currently in the drive-thru waiting on one small ice cream for nobody else but himself. Please try again later.

Hollis: I hate you.

Lowell: You wish.

Hollis: Sucks you guys lost tonight.

Lowell: You watched the game?

Hollis: No. Harper did.

Hollis: I just happened to be there.

Lowell: You totally watched.

Hollis: Did not. I don’t even like hockey, remember?

Lowell: Take that back.

Hollis: It’s boring.

Lowell: Hollis…

Hollis: And slow.

Lowell: Slow?! Are you kidding me? I can literally skate faster than the speed limit in my neighborhood!

Lowell: I can’t believe I’m having a baby with a hockey hater. I’m so ashamed of myself.

Hollis: You are not.

Lowell: You’re right. But I should be.

Lowell: Did you know that our baby is the size of a pair of baby booties?

Lowell: Whatever those are.

Hollis: Are you looking at baby websites again?

Lowell: Yes. Since I’m not there, I like to know what you’re experiencing.

Hollis: That’s…actually kind of sweet.

Lowell: I know.

Lowell: It’s also still smaller than the average dick, but I’ll have to let Miller know that the baby is catching up to him fast.

Hollis: Umm…excuse me?

Hollis: Like a penis?

Lowell: Yeah.

Hollis: Did you just compare our child to a penis? A PENIS?

Lowell: Again, yeah.

Hollis: How… What… Why do you know the size of the average dick?

Lowell: All guys know it instinctually.

Lowell: It’s a thing. Trust me.

Lowell: Speaking of…how do we feel about Dick?

Hollis: I take it back. You’re not sweet.

Lowell: I’m guessing Richard is out of the question, then, too?

Lowell: Hollis?

Lowell: Fine. I’ll stop. But it’s going to be really HARD to do.

Hollis: If you think I’m above kneeing you in the balls, I’m not.

Lowell: Oh, I am very well aware of all the pain you enjoy inflicting on me.

Hollis: Good. Now remember that the next time you compare our child to a penis.