‘We’ll get those Spaniards!” growled Willem-Jan, coming into the living room sporting bright orange overalls and a lion’s head. Clearly the beer in his hand was not the first of the evening. He was not the only resident suffering from football fever, though. Vera was wearing an orange skirt and even Filippo had tied a Dutch flag around his shoulders. After knocking back a drink ‘to get in the mood’, the merry crew set off for a pub on the market square to bag themselves a good spot near the screen.
The pubs were filling up and the atmosphere was exuberant. The Spanish were out in force as well, in little yellow-and-red groups. ‘Boring national anthem,’ pronounced Willem-Jan. ‘Hey! Why don’t you sing along?!’ he shouted across to a couple of Spaniards who were minding their own business. He joined in the Dutch national anthem lustily, and he only just managed not to shed a tear, as Vera noticed with a touch of relief. She nudged Filippo, but he did not see anything strange about his housemate. A bit of emotion was only normal under the circumstances.
After an exciting first half, Derk and Vera went to get beers while the others kept their seats for them. ‘Hey Bianc, cool, isn’t it?’ said one of her sorority friends who suddenly emerged from the crowd. She laughed at Willem-Jan’s lion’s head. ‘So, tiger,’ she joked, ‘Lookin’ hot.’ Willem-Jan handed her one of his beers right away, with a wink. ‘Don’t worry: I’m still a bachelor.’
Bianca watched the scene unfolding before her with some astonishment. Willem-Jan came out with one euphoric quip after another, while her sorority friend seemed more and more charmed by him. Bianca felt a bit embarrassed. Straight after the final whistle, the two went off to get beer for the housemates. But when they hadn’t returned after 20 minutes, it was decided to go home and have a fry-up.
As the second batch of frikadels sizzled in the oil, they heard someone stumbling up the stairs. In came Willem-Jan. alone. ‘She didn’t want you?’ asked Filippo. ‘No, man, she said she was going to the toilet and never came back,’ said Willem-Jan. ‘Bianca probably told her stories about me.’ He shot Bianca a forlorn look. ‘I’m not that mean,’ retorted Bianca. ‘But didn’t you see what a queue there was for the ladies’ toilets? She just whatsapped me that you left her there.’ Resolutely, Willem-Jan turned around and went back downstairs.
‘Go get her, tiger,’ Bianca called after him.