Straight after practice, I whip out my laptop and set to work on a personal project of mine, a journaling mobile app. It only makes sense, considering the time I spend writing in diaries. Yet none of the apps out there do the trick for me, so I’m doing it myself.

For ten minutes I can clearly see Hugo looking over my shoulder. Then he can’t contain himself anymore, and he says it. The words every girl wants to hear.

“Why on Earth are you using that IDE? Switch to IntelliJ!”

I tell him I’m well aware of the superiority of pretty much anything above the software I was using. So we talk about just how much said software sucks. Then we joke about coding in Notepad. We compare notes about programming languages. I tell him I’m a Python kinda gal.

Romain pops by with his homework. He’s not a Python kinda guy. He’s not a coding kinda guy. He’s an artsy dude, which is probably why he got along with my family. But Hugo and I are not fascinated by the Philosophy he’s literally brought to the table. So he works on his essay, and I comment my code with a snickering Hugo by my side to point out my mistake.