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TIMOTHY HATED himself sometimes.
He was always taking decisions without thinking about it. It was a good thing, sometimes, for example when it was about scoring.
But sometimes, it was not. Like this morning, when he woke up and decided to jog in the Jardin des Plantes.
It had snowed all night. It was Paris, so the roads were clear already, even the paths in the famous park were. But it was cold.
You do it in training, you can do it out of training, he tried to convince himself.
A lot of people were usually running here, but today, he was the only one. The other people were mostly couple walking hands in hands, or families playing with their kids in the snow. He started to run--at least he won't be cold anymore--until he saw a girl in the middle of the snow--which was usually a big plain of grass. She was building a snowman, which was not a problem in itself. The problem was that he didn't understand how she hasn't died of hypothermia with these clothes.
"Hey," he started to walk in the snow, and she didn't realize that he was talking to her until he put a finger on her shoulder.
"Yes?" she asked.
"Aren't you cold?"
"No," she said as if it was a stupid question, and she focused on her snowman again.
"It's not possible. I mean, you are cold."
"I am not," she assured.
"You are wearing jeans and a simple shirt. If you are human, you are cold."
"Wow, you certainly know how to talk to girls," she raised an eyebrow, and he laughed.
"Here, have my jacket."
She looked at his face, then at the jacket, then at his face.
"It's a PSG jacket."
"Don't tell me that you support Marseille."
"What if I do?" she challenged, and he sighed.
"I thought you were cute but this changes all my plans."
"Don't be dramatic. Plus, I actually support Lyon."
"Weird taste but okay."
"You have weird taste for supporting PSG. Who's your fav, Neymar? So original."
"My fav is actually myself," Timothy shrugged, and the girl laughed before realizing that he was serious. "Timothy Weah," he extended his hand, and she frowned.
"George Weah's son," she nodded. "Yes, I remember you!"
"See? It's an honor to wear my jacket."
"Why would it be an honor to wear the jacket of someone who's always benched?"
"You hurt my feelings."
She shrugged, and he sighed.
"What if I buy you a hot chocolate over there?" he showed a hawker, and she looked at him.
"Why don't you just keep doing whatever you were doing?"
"I will. Once you've drank a hot chocolate."
She sighed loudly, before looking at her snowman.
"Okay. Mister Snow is ready anyway. I need to take a picture for the contest I am doing with the kids."
"What?" he frowned.
"I am babysitting kids every day after college, and we made a contest to know who can build the best snowman," she explains, taking her phone from her pocket before taking a picture. "I'm good!"
They walked to the hawker in silence.
"What's your name?" Timothy finally asked her.
"Coralie. You?"
"I said it was Timothy."
"I wasn't listening."
"You keep hurting my feelings."
"Maybe you'll stop thinking that I'm cute."
"Why is it a problem?" he laughed.
"You play football--"
"What cliché bothers you behind that? The fact that we are stupid? That all we care about is money?"
"--for the wrong club."
"Oh. So you really don't want to--"
"I don't want to go on a date with someone that I barely know."
"--let us get to know each other?" he finishes, and she laughed.
"1-1 for jumping on conclusions."
"Let's just...get to know each other. If after that, you decide that you don't want to have anything to do with me, I'll leave you alone."
