Forever, Yours ➹ Timothée Chalamet

17 | Timothée Vs Toni

VERA

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"LONG NIGHT?" Bella said, dusting flour off of her hands.

Days at the bakery went by quicker than I remembered them being, because I had something to look forward to now. The book club—or the not book club full of amateur thieves—to be specific. I wasn't entirely sure if Bella knew what Timothée's plans were involving the Will and his Uncle, so I held off on mentioning it. Especially now.

"Short is more like it," I chuckled weakly, "I think I only slept for three hours."

"Is your roommate keeping you up?" She asked.

No, because I spent the night at your nephew's.

"Not really," I said instead, "she usually stays at her girlfriend's house now, so I guess I have to blame my sleepless nights on insomnia."

Or because I'm involved in a mission to steal back a Will with your nephew.

Once again, not going to say that.

Bella nodded her head, disappearing down the stairs and into the basement. Milk, or something. At least their absence gave me time to think, and my thoughts almost always strayed back to him. Every time I glanced at the storage room door, I remembered the first time I ended up finding the boy I would soon fall in love with. It made the world feel unexpected, but fateful. I was meant to find him, my heart sang.

I couldn't imagine how dull my life would've been if we hadn't made that deal.

I accidentally slept in this morning, waking up to an empty apartment that wasn't mine. Timothée left a glass of milk and a note that said 'steal anything you want from my fridge, petit voleur'—which a hard take on Google Translate told me meant: little thief—followed by a small section that explained he had class to get to. I always did forget he was still in University.

My overthinking mind fed my ego in that moment, telling myself that by not waking me up, Timothée trusted me to roam his apartment by myself. I'd seen almost everything anyways, and I decided to pride myself on that thought.

I can't believe I admitted to loving him yesterday night.

Love was scary, but it just felt so right in the moment.

And to think he was falling—not love yet, I don't think, but just falling—for me too meant more than all of Paris itself. He pretended to love me, saying it would help me write my book, but maybe he was using that as a mask to hide his true feelings. I didn't want to assume. I just wanted it to be true.

But I snapped out of my thoughts when the bell to the bakery rang, twinkling against the morning's sunlight as a figure passed through the glass door.

I'd recognize that curly hair anywhere.

"Toni?" I smiled, leaning over the counter, "hey, what's up?"

She was wearing her paint-stained overalls, something she only wore when she was off from her modelling gigs, a white sweater with black stripes on the ends, and the beaten-up sneakers she's kept since junior year. She looked tired. Maybe a little disappointed.

"I thought I'd find you here," she said, stopping directly across from me, "considering you didn't come home last night."

Heck. I forgot.

This was her first time visiting me in the bakery, and it was just to call me out on my carelessness. She always let me know whenever she went out, but the one time I didn't come back to the apartment, I forgot to tell her.