My Sister's Best Friend [T.Chalamet]

29

We're at the bar now again, and I'm ordering Y/N her second drink as an additional celebration for the fact that I just scored the lead for a Netflix film. I give the order, and as we wait, Y/N dives in for a kiss, but I pull away because my phone rings. I pick up the call, and my jaw drops. I end the call and pick Y/N up from her waist. She screams at me to put her down, then loops her arms around my neck. "Guess what?" I whisper to her, but she doesn't hear it the first time, so I have to kind of shout it.

"What?" she replies as she plays with my hair.

"The role Netflix wants me to play, I'm working with, wait for it, Johnny Depp's daughter!"

She smiles, and my insides melt. I pull her in for another kiss, but then her drink comes, and before I know it, she's ordering another one.

-

And I am absolutely right.

Three drinks later, Y/N joins the crowd, and she's dancing.

Yup. A drunk girl is dancing.

I want her to stop, but the phenomenal thing is that she's a great dancer and that Saoirse told her to come join her on the dance floor. She's channelling all of the emotions that she keeps locked in, out with the music.

The entire bar is going batshit crazy for Y/N's performance. She's dancing out "Bad Romance," and almost everyone is dancing along, including more than a few of my wasted teammates, Saoirse too. I find myself grinning like an idiot as I gaze at the dance floor. There's nothing lewd about what she's doing. No coy almost-stripping, no suggestive dance moves. Y/N throws her head back happily, her cheeks flushed "and eyes shining as she sings, and she's so beautiful it makes my chest hurt.

Fuck, I want to kiss her again. I want to feel her lips on mine. I want to hear that throaty noise she made the first time I sucked on her tongue.

Wonderful. And now I'm hard as a rock, splat in the middle of a bar teeming with my friends. Don't tell anybody I told you that. Please.

"She's amazing!" Logan shouts, sidling up to me. He's grinning too as he watches Y/N, but there's an odd gleam in his eyes. It looks a bit like... longing.

"She practices dance" is the dumbest response I can come up with because I'm too distracted by his expression.

Thunderous applause bursts out when Y/N's song ends. A second later, Ansel climbs on the stage and whispers something in her ear. From what I can glean, he's trying to persuade her to sing a duet, but he keeps touching her bare upper arm as he works the charm, and there's no mistaking the flicker of unease in Y/N's eyes.

"That's my cue to rescue her," I say before threading my way through the crowd. When I reach the bottom of the low-rise stage, I cup my hands around my mouth and call out to Y/N. "Y/N, come here!"

"Her expression lights up when she spots me. Without skipping a beat, she dives off the stage and into my waiting arms, laughing in delight as I spin her around. "Oh my God, this is so much fun!" she exclaims. "We need to come here all the time!"

As laughter tickles my throat, I study her face to gauge where she lands on my drunken scale. Since her eyes are sharp and she's not slurring or stumbling, I decide she's probably at about a five—tipsy but aware.
And maybe it makes me an arrogant bastard, but I love being the one who got her to this point. Who she trust enough to take care of her so that she could allow herself to let go and have a good time?

With another brilliant smile, she takes my hand and starts dragging me away from the tiny dance floor.

"Where are we going?" I ask with a laugh.

"I have to pee! And you promised to be my bodyguard, so that means you have to wait outside the door and stand guard." Those mesmerising eyes peer up art me, flickering with uncertainty.  "You won't let anything bad happen to me, will you, Timmy?"

A fucking lump the size of a basketball lodges in my throat. I swallow hard and try to speak past it. "Never."

Y/N's POV

I'm still stable of what's around me and who is around me. I'm staring at the mirror in the bathroom, now drying my hands as Timothée waits outside for me. I can't believe I caved. I drank for the first time in years. I feel so free; it's like this bubble that was surrounding me has popped and now I can finally breath.

I open the door and lean against the wall, next to Timothée. He looks up and smiles and it's just the both of us in this room right now. The boring music quietens down too, with some quiet song. He reaches for my hand and takes it in his, bringing it to his mouth and kisses it. I used my other free hand to take his necklace out, which was tucked in his shirt. It's the necklace I got him for his birthday. He still wears it. I can't help but smile at that.

We walk back to our friends and sit in the booth for a while as his friends are all sitting and eating. "What's wrong?" I ask him.

He looks at me and miles. "Nothing." He clears his throat, then slides out of the booth and tugs me up with him. "Dance with me."

"To this?" I'm baffled for a moment, until I get up and he pulls my arms in his direction and wraps his arm around my waist so that he can drag us both onto the dance floor.

He leads me to the small area in front of the stage, which is completely empty because nobody else is dancing; even Saoirse and Beanie have gone and sat down to eat. Timothée holds out his hand and bows slightly, which I take. He pulls me closer so that our chests are touching. My head is resting in between his shoulder and chest, while his chin is touching the top of my head as he occasionally places small kisses on it.

"You know this song is ten minutes long, right?" I point out this as we step onto the dance floor.

"I know." His tone is casual. "Can't a guy get a chance to dance with the most gorgeous girl in the room to celebrate his career?" I smile at him, and he places his hand on my hip, and his other one curls around my right hand. I rest my free hand on his shoulder, and he leans in closer and presses his cheek to mine. When I take a breath, his vanilla tobacco scent fills my lungs, and a rush of giddy dizziness washes over me.

"Logan's enjoying himself." I comment mostly just to cut this silence. Timothée follows my gaze toward the back booth, where Logan is sandwiched between two blondes who are very eagerly nibbling on his neck.

"Yeah, guess so."

When the song ends, I exhale a deep, relived breath, then get on my tip toes to place a kiss on his mouth. As I got down, instantly dove back down, giving me another longer kiss. My lip part, giving him access to the inside of mouth. His tongue slips in gently but it only lasts for a second and half because I see him.

Behind Timothée on the other side of the stage, I thought I was just imagining things but I'm not. I see him. Nate. Mark's best friend. The guy I treated like my best friend back in Ireland but when it came to the truth and reality, he ran away from it like a coward to defend his actual best friend. Mark.

I remember Timothée and his touch, ignoring everything from Ireland. Mark. His touch. His actions. I take a deep breath. I've changed now. It's in the past and I've changed now. Timothée and Saoirse—they're all waiting for me. I turn and see Nate smile as a girl jumps, wrapping her arms around him. He locks eyes with me, and I freeze. My throat closes up and I duck into the corridor that leads to the restroom, blinking away the hot tears that have welled up in my eyes.
Fuck, why am I crying?

I'm happy now. So happy. People would dream to have what I have right now. To be where I am right now.

"y/n?"

Timothée emerges from the men's bathroom and frowns the moment he sees me. "Hey," he says urgently, cupping my chin. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," I mumble. "your lying," his grip stays firm on my chin as he sweeps his thumbs underneath my eyes, "why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying."

"I'm wiping away your tears right now, y/n; you're crying. Noe tell me what's wrong." his face suddenly falls. "Oh sh*t, did someone harass you or something? I was only gone for two minutes, I swear. I'm so sorry."

"No, it's not that," I cut in. "I promise.

Timothée's features relax slightly, "then why are you upset?"

I choked back the lump in my throat.

I abruptly shrug Timothée's hands off my face. "Forget it, I'm being stupid." lifting my chin, I take a step toward the doorway. "Come on, I want another drink."

"y/n-"

"I want another drink." I snap and then I bulldoze past him and march all the way to the bar.

***
(1611 words)