#22 ; t.silva EN

209 9 3
                                    

I HATE my friends, I hate my friends, I hate my friends

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I HATE my friends, I hate my friends, I hate my friends.

That was all Assia could think about.

It's Christmas today, I'm not supposed to hate on anyone.

She shook her head and looked around her. Tones of snow, which is pretty logical when you're spending Christmas high in the mountains.

Which is not logical is the fact that she had lost her best friends while they were skiing.

Since the beginning, she has been repeating that she hasn't been good at skiing, and she has thought that her friend would make some effort to wait for her on the piste or something.

It did not happen. They went so fast that when she arrived at the bottom, they were completely gone already.
Now, she was painfully walking into the snow to take the chair lift. She was alone, but she was still allowed to ski and to have fun.

She finally arrived at the chair lift, and she hurried to get in. A guy sat next to her, and they started to climb.

She was a little scared of heights, so she tried not to look around her, jealous of those who weren't: they could admire the landscape while she was freaking out imagining awful things.

When a gust of wind swung a little the chair in which they were sat, she panicked a little.

"Hey, is everything okay?" the guy asked, and she looked at him. He smiled when he saw her face. "Scared of heights?"

"Are my emotions that clear on my face?"

"Saying no would be lying."

She smiled. He was cute. She couldn't say why. Maybe it was just his innocent face mixed up with his foreign accent.

She didn't have time to protest: the chair lift suddenly stopped, and they were here, stuck in the middle of nowhere.

"I have two reasons to freak out now," she mumbled, and the guy bite his lip before taking Assia's hand.

"I'm gonna read the lines of your hand. Are you left or right-handed?"

"Left-handed," she said, skeptical.

"I'm going to read the lines of your left hand then. It's your active hand."

He pointed out the higher line on her hand.

"This is the heart line. Yours starts between your index and major, which means that you are selective about the people you love."

He then pointed the second line.

"Your head line his pretty short. It means that you are practical and reasonable. You're very...realistic, logical, organized, and you pay great attention to details, because your line is straight."

Then, he showed her the closest line to the thumb.

"This is your life line. She is very pronounced so your are super healthy."

He frowned.

"There's also a destiny line, but we can't really see yours. Do you wanna hear about your marriage line?"

"Does this really exist?" she raised an eyebrow. "Cause I've never heard about it."

"Yeah, it does. Most of the people don't know about it, though."

"Sure, tell me," she nodded.

He took her hand and looked at the side, close to the little finger.

"Most of the people have several lines but you only have one. It means that you'll only have one serious relationship in your life."

He let go of her hand, and she started at it in amazement.

"How do you know all these things?"

"I've read about it," he shrugged as if it was no big deal.

"It's so interesting!"

"People generally don't really believe in all of that. I mean, it is not science or anything."

"What you said corresponded very well to my personality."

He smiled, and the chair lift started to move again.

"Good to know. Even if you didn't believe in it, it distracted you."

"Thank you," she nodded. "What's your name?"

"Thiago. You?"

"Assia."

"You looked agitated at the beginning, but not anymore," he noticed, and she smiled.

"Are you a psychologist or something?"

"I am a football player," he said, and she frowned, looking at him. He took his hat off, and when she saw his hair, she recognized him.

"Thiago Silva," she said, surprised to remember her full name. "My friend Luc has your jersey."

The chair lift finally arrived on top, and Thiago and Assia got off.

"Which piste are you doing?" he asked, and she shrugged, ashamed.

"The blue one. I'm not really good at this."

"Neither am I. And I am also not allowed to go back to Paris injured. Let's ski together," he offered, and she nodded.

"Sure."

And that's what they did for the next two hours.

🎄 tomorrow: a player from Bayern Munich 🎄

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