My Sister's Best Friend [T.Chalamet]

28

"and the same old pain, Ain't much changin' me, y'all, Seems like ain't nothin' changin' me, y'all."

"Thank God it's all another day." I smile at him as he separates my hair in separate portions. But I can't go escape; what I have made ain't much changin' me, y'all."

"Yeah," he echoes, making me chuckle but I continue.

"Seems like ain't nothin' changin' me, y'all."

"Yeah!" he cheers.

"No. stop" I continue to laugh, breaking the rhythm of the song. He crawls on top of me and bombards me with kisses and pecks all over my face and my neck. "Timmy, stop." I can't stop laughing.

He gets up out of bed to pick something up, then comes back. He's holding it behind his back. "What is it?" I ask him. He slumps his shoulders, looking at the ceiling, then brings it forward and shows me. It's my hairbrush. I turn, and I can feel his grin. He gently runs the brush through my hair, starting at the ends and working his way up. He pauses when he finds a knot, which is frequent, and then takes his time trying to untangle it. Then he asked for a hair tie to style my hair. He told me not to look until he had finished. Then he ran to get a mirror and showed me. He put my hair in a plait, and I could not stop smiling at his attempt. "Was this your first time?" I ask him.

He furrows his eyebrows and frowns at me, then scratches the back of his head. "How could you tell?"

I shrug my shoulders and move towards him, "no reason. It's perfect." He reaches forward to cup my chin and lowers his lips to mine. it feels soft and slow. I raise my arms to wrap around his neck, pulling myself closer to him to take in his kiss and to sink into the way he breathes. He hands travel down my back, the temperature of his hands melting with the warm breeze and while his left hand stays down at my hip, his right traces back up to the nape of my neck. while his hands envelope me, his tongue traces my lower lips and coaxes my mouth open to taste each other. A low groan rumbles from his throat; the vibration of his lips reverberates against mine and I feel a flutter at my core.

Instantly, I hear the door open, and Saoirse runs in shouting, "I GOT NOMINATED. FOR LADY BIRD"

We pull apart, but his arms still remain on my hip as he still keeps me close to him. Saoirse clears her throat at the sight of Timothée.

Timothée looks at her too with careful concentration. I'm waiting for neither of them to have a reaction, so I'll know whether or not I can breathe.

Timothée starts to shake his head as soon as a smile appears on her face.

Saoirse starts to laugh, but she groans at the same time, realizing, I guess, what she just walked in on, but this indicates that she may have come to terms with us now. Timothée and I.

"I heard you got a nomination too," she says to Timothée, smiling.

He looks up and smiles too. "Yes. Yes, I did."

"Should we not go celebrate this?" I say to the both of them, "together?"

They look at each other, and both nod in agreement.

I hope it's all okay now.

Saoirse goes to her room to change, as Timothée goes through my wardrobe. He was practically begging to choose my outfit and with his gorgeous face, how could one say no. He goes through each part of my wardrobe—my dresses, my shirts, etc.—and pulls out a couple of options. I stand there waiting for him to leave but he doesn't get the message. "Timothée," i sing out and the eye points towards the door.

"Right." he gets up from my bed and walks towards the door. Then walks back to me. Then towards the door. Then back to me. "Sorry," he whispers to me, giving me a small peck on the lips before leaving. "I'll be right outside; just show me if you want."