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thirteen.

@phil.coutinho
i am in a corner wearing a cap

@coline.lavana
Are there paparazzi?

@phil.coutinho
no, but a lot of kids and one of them is wearing a barça jersey

@coline.lavana
Who's on the back?

@phil.coutinho
Messi duh

@coline.lavana
That kid has good taste

@phil.coutinho
where are youuu

"Right there," he heard a voice behind him, and he put his phone in his pocket to hug her.

"Hey," she put her head in his neck. "What's up?"

"Don't 'what's up' me like that, you're breaking the moment."

She rolled her eyes.

"Aren't people gonna recognize your voice?"

"I am not that famous, Lavana."

He took her hand, and they walked to the parking lot like that, hand in hand.

"Should we stop somewhere to get food?" he asked once in the car, and she nodded.

"That would be great."

They stopped at McDonald's—Philippe's choice—and headed to his house with their food.

"I wish it was not winter, we could bath in my swimming pool."

"You have a swimming pool?!" Coline asked, and he nodded.

"Yeah. Gerard does too, right?"

"I have no idea. If we are still dating in the summer, I just want you to know that I'll be in that swimming pool so much that I'll become a mermaid."

"Of course we'll still be dating in the summer. We are gonna get married one day."

"Whatever you say," Coline rolled her eyes.

They ended up on the couch, as usual, with a football match on tv—but Philippe muted it because he cared more about the person next to him.

"I'm sorry we can't go out like normal people," he said, and Coline frowned.

"I like being here. Now, I have a very important question," she said with a smile.

"Yeah?" he smiled as well.

"Do you like my hair like that?"

"Of course I do," he frowned, surprise. "I thought my comment on your pic was pretty clear about it."

She nodded, and he came closer, taking one of her hand.

"You're beautiful, Coline," he smiled. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you that before. I tend to forget that people can't read my mind."

"I really want to hug you right now but food first," she said, showing all the food that was spread between them.

"We have plenty of time to hug, don't worry about it," he smiled.

...

"Are you sure that we can do that?"

"Coline, we are just walking at the seaside, not doing something forbidden," Philippe mocked her, but she crossed her arms.

"I don't want people to attack you or something."

"They won't. It's super cold outside, no one will be at the beach but us."

"Okay," she shrugged, opening the door. She did not think it was that cold, probably because it was worst in France, but she knew that the closer you were to the sea, the stronger the wind was.

They had to take the car to go to the beach—it was close, but not that close—but there was no traffic, so ten minutes later, they were there, and Coline felt like she was five again.

"It's so pretty! I wish I lived by the sea," she sighed, and Philippe laughed.

"I thought you didn't see yourself live anywhere else but in Paris," he mocked her, and she shrugged.

"That's still true. But...who knows, maybe I'll live here one day."

"I'd love to see that," Philippe nodded, and she laughed.

"That's not gonna happen anytime soon. My whole life is in Paris. And I don't mean my family, because I know that distance is not a problem now," she smiled at him. "I mean my work."

"Distance is not a problem," he nodded.

Philippe was right: the beach was empty. It was just the two of us and the sound of the waves. They just spend the afternoon walking at the seaside, talking and laughing. The fact that it was very cold and windy didn't bother them. Coline kept thinking that it was even colder in Paris, and Philippe was used to play in that temperature.

However, when they arrived in Philippe's apartment, they were happy to feel the heating.

"Hot chocolate?" Philippe asked, and Coline nodded.

"Do you need help?"

"To make hot chocolates? Not really, I think I'll be okay," he said, and she rolled her eyes before frowning at her phone. One of her employees was calling her, and it was not a good sign.

"Hey, Amélie, is everything alright?" she asked, leaving the kitchen.

"Sorry to bother you, Coline, I know you are not in France, but that guy...I don't really recall his name...Mister Sheter...or something.

"Mister Shutler?" she frowned, surprised.

"Yes! He came by, and he was very sad to hear that you weren't here, so he said that you should call him when you can."

"Oh, okay, thank you," Coline said.

Mister Shutler was the investor that helped him to open her hairdresser salon. She hadn't heard from him since a really long time, hence her surprise.

When they hung up, Coline bit her lip. She did not want to call him now. She wanted to enjoy the little time that she was with her boyfriend.

She shook her head and put her phone back into her pocket.

The investor could wait. The hot chocolate could not.