Louis

Winter was in full swing. Snow fell on the ground in large drifts, and a blizzard swept away everything in its path. You are a student at a pedagogical college. You are small in stature and weight, strangers did not believe that you were 18 years old, because you looked like you were 15. Of course, you were annoyed about this, but there was nothing to be done. After finishing your classes today, you headed home through this snowstorm. Despite your warm coat, jeans and boots, the frosty wind still blew through. You pulled your scarf up higher, up to your nose, pulled your hat down over your forehead and continued on your way. Walking through deep snowdrifts, the blizzard howled with a terrible whistle. Entering some dubious area, you glanced at the nearby cars and the dim lights above them. Swallowing hard, you quickly walked towards your house. Suddenly, something flew into your back. Turning around, you saw a tall, black-haired guy in an unbuttoned coat. "How is he not cold?" flashed through your head. The guy smiled.

• Hey, school kid, isn't this yours?, the guy picked up something, you squinted. A white glove appeared in his hand. You quickly checked your pockets and pulled out one white glove. It really was lost. Nodding, you walked up to him. -Yes, mine. Thank you. -You answered quietly. The guy grinned and held out the glove. “Don’t lose any more, little thing,” his voice was low but mocking. “I’m not a small thing,” his brows furrowed.
• Yes? - the guy grinned. - And how old are you? I won't give you more than 15, - he laughed. “I’m 18,” you muttered. The guy was silent for a moment. His cheeks began to blush, it was unclear whether it was from the cold or from the situation. -Sorry. —Why are you formal? “I’m 16,” the guy said a little quieter.