Forever, Yours ➹ Timothée Chalamet

6 | Friends Keep Secrets

VERA

_

TO SAY I WAS COMPLETELY ENTHRALLED BY HIM, WOULD BE A MOROSE UNDERSTATEMENT.

It was like the feeling of falling in love—though love was completely out of the question. I was falling into something. Something I couldn't describe, but still couldn't figure out.

The worst part about it was that I had to keep it to myself. Every stray thought of those olive eyes, and every fleeting memory and hope for our next meeting; things I wanted to talk about, but couldn't, because it seemed so wrong. Toni would smack me senseless if she knew I'd let myself fall so easily, and while that was smart on her end, I was too lost in the feeling of mystery to want to leave.

Where would he take you today? My brain asked myself, what will he say?

And my inability to answer was what made it so exciting. He was a spontaneous person, who said I had his attention—and the thought that I could have that from someone as beautiful as him, brought upon a feeling of worth— and I shouldn't need attention to feel worthy, I know, but...I still did.

From him at least, and I guess that's the price I pay for falling.

Toni didn't come home last night, but sent me a drunk keyboard smash and a thumbs up emoji that pretty much implied she found a place to stay and...vibe. I called her twice, and both times she told me to 'Stop ruining the moment' and to 'go to sleep', and then blocked me for two hours.

Oh, to be twenty and hot.

She'd probably text me later and tell me all about the person she managed to win over, and I'd nod enthusiastically while having no clue what to say in response. I never usually did, and when I tried to sound excited, it came across as weird—given that the topic was about...yup.

Okay, I'd rather not think about that conversation just yet.

Averting my eyes towards the window outside of the bakery, I bit the inside of my cheek when I realized Timothée wasn't there yet. The shop closed in ten minutes, and he usually came around two minutes early, so that gives me eight minutes to finish washing the dishes before I can go. Time management. Woo.

Now that I had come to the revelation that I was more than platonically interested in him (even just a tiny bit), I felt an eminent buzzing in my chest that I could only label as extreme anxiety. Maybe a little excitement, but more so the former. What if Toni was right? What if he ended up disappointing me in the end, because he was hiding some deep, dark secret that was potentially toxic and heart-breaking?

Okay, yeah, that's a little over dramatic, but still. I don't even know his last name yet, and I can't be seriously pursuing something without knowing him a little better first.

Today's goal: find out his last name.

Future goal: make him like me back, or something along the lines of that.

That's the plan.

➢

THE PLAN WAS FAILING.

It's been barely half an hour into our meeting, and I was already struggling to form coherent sentences around him.

It's that extra bundle of nerves you get when you first realize you're crushing on someone, and now you have to be 10x more aware that they're probably judging you everytime they glance in your direction. When I looked at him, I saw a man who had unfairly won at whatever game was played when it came to beauty. I wondered what words he'd use to describe me. I hoped they were at least somewhat decent.