you're my favorite

I jog in place on the gravel parking lot. It was so cold for May.
I begin to notice a few people trickling outside in their shorts and t-shirts. I'd made that mistake too. I rub my hands together and rolled down my cuffed sleeves as far as they would let me.
"Gosh, it's freezing." I find myself saying out loud to no one in particular.
I hear footsteps come up behind me and I turn to find myself staring into those dark, brown eyes. (It's always brown, isn't it?)
"Hi," I start, "Aren't you freezing?"
He chuckles, showing a set of perfect pearly whites, a result of years of braces.
"Not really, want my jacket?"