rosie | griezmann

3

Antoine now found himself looking forward to the one hour sessions he spent with Rosie every other day, unless he had to travel away for a game. Sometimes he brought Angel, sometimes Angel was with Erika. Rosie liked Angel to be around, but sometimes Antoine got nervous; felt as though his year-old daughter was listening to all of the troubles that seemed to plague her father.

Today, Rosie wore a tight, cream colored shirt and a pencil skirt with heels to match the beige of her shirt. Antoine had been focused more on her eyes, which were adorned with makeup. It was a rare sight.

"Alright, Antoine. Talk to me." She tucked her curly hair behind her ear with a small smile, glancing at the Frenchman with anticipating eyes.

Antoine intertwined his fingers. "Do I seem like boyfriend material to you?" He paused. "I mean, not you, specifically. But..." He paused. "If I really liked a woman and wanted to ask her out. Do you think there are things about me that would keep her from saying yes?"

Rosie shrugged. "No, Antoine. I think you're just perfect the way you are."

"Okay, you're supposed to say that. But can you be honest? You're my friend, right? Not just a therapist."

"Of course."

Antoine nodded. "So..."

Rosie sighed. "I have nothing, Antoine. You're a bit shy, but that's not an issue. It's just that a lot of women prefer the outgoing ones, you know?" Rosie tucked her hair behind her ear. "Is there someone specific you have in mind right now?"

Antoine shook his head. "I just...Erika is already seeing someone new, and I have no one. I know it shouldn't be hard for me to go out and pick a woman off the streets and say...date me, but it is. Maybe you're right. Maybe it's because I'm so shy."

Rosie sent him a comforting smile. "But, Antoine, you're a star. If you don't want to find a woman, a woman will certainly find you."

Antoine shook his head. "But I don't want a woman to date me just because I'm Antoine Griezmann."

Rosie nodded, writing down the notes on her paper. Antoine ran his eyes over her legs and found himself inappropriately enticed whenever she would shift positions and her skirt would ride up her hips, more and more—until she would have to open her legs and pull it down—starting the process yet again.

Antoine prayed he wouldn't have to stand up anytime soon, but for now, he would cross his own legs just for extra measure. Rosie rose an eyebrow towards his random change in position. "You alright?"

"Of course."

Rosie smiled. "Good. So, Antoine, what I get from this is that you'd like to start dating...a woman."

"You still think I'm gay?"

"I didn't mean it like that—"

"Yes, that's what I want." A small smile played his lips. Rosie put the tip of her pin in between her two lips, leaving Antoine to now need to place his hands in his lap. This was an unhealthy attraction; the one he was developing to his mature therapist.

"Okay. So, you think you need help approaching a woman?"

"Yes."

Rosie smiled. "You can practice on me." She set the clipboard down. "The first thing is that you have to be confident, Antoine. You can be shy or bashful, but just not in a way that suggests you don't trust yourself, you understand?"

Antoine nodded, though deep down, the answer was a no. 

"So, show me what you would normally do if you saw a woman you wanted to get used to." She stood and pushed her skirt down. Antoine stood and wrapped his plaid flannel around his waist, leaving his muscular biceps exposed as he ran a hand through his hair.

Rosie stood before him. He approached her and spoke. "Um...hi."

A giggle. "Try again."

Antoine blushed and stared down at Rosie, who couldn't have been much smaller than him with her heels on. "Has anyone ever told you that you have beautiful eyes?"

Rosie drew in a breath, keeping her character. This must've meant that he was doing a good job. "No." She finally spoke, truthfully.

Antoine bit his lip. Merde, he thought. Shit. He had nothing. Rosie broke character and chuckled. "Okay, maybe try something else."

Antoine nodded. "Okay..."

The two did this for another ten minutes, all of which Antoine's shyness overcame him completely.

"So...same time tomorrow?" Rosie inquired, grabbing her jacket and putting it around her shoulders.

"No, I can't...I have a game." Antoine spoke, his face red.

"Oh." Rosie masked any trace of disappointment. "Well, how about—"

"But you can come to my game. I'll send you tickets." Antoine blurted, shyly folding his hands behind his back. "If you want to."

"That sounds like fun. Yeah, I'd love to go."

"Okay." Antoine bit his lip. "I'll call you and—"

"Text me instead, so that I don't forget." Rosie smiled. "If it's okay with you."

"I can do that?"

"Do what?"

"Text my therapist." He spoke, smiling a little. "I thought I wasn't allowed, or something."

"I'm not your therapist, Antoine. You said it yourself." Rosie grinned and sat back down at her desk, her orbs sparkling as she spoke with the Frenchman. "I'm your friend, too."