Calling Him By My Name [Armie Hammer + Timothée Chalamet | Charmie | mxb]

34 | Timothée

I don't know how they find me, or why they care.

Photographers and journalists seem to dog my every step these days. My agent hired a chauffeur and special car with tinted windows to transport me long distances, like today's drive from LAX to Eric's. I came back from Illinois this morning and the paparazzi followed me here, where I spent some time with Eric before heading back out to meet with my agent.

By this point, I'm exhausted. So I'm not thrilled to be greeted by a chorus of hollers and catcalls when I walk through Eric's front door around six, finding his friends all playing video games on the couch.

"Hey, sweetheart."

"Yo. Lil' angel, what's good?"

"Wassup, cutie?"

"Hey, princess. Where'd you go last time?"

"Yeah, you left early."

"Hey, leave the baby doll alone."

"Shut up, baby doll's been busy makin' movies and shit. Gonna be a star. Ain't that right, babycakes?"

"You shut up, man, can't you see you're scaring the lil' babe?"

"Fuck off, man."

I roll my eyes so hard at the ensuing bickering that a headache instantly blossoms between my temples.

"Hey guys," I mumble, making my way straight past them and through to the kitchen. Of course, the floor plan being open-concept as it is, their eyes follow me across the room as I gulp down a glass of water. At least Nick's not here today. "Um, where's Eric?"

"He's taking a shower; he'll be right down."

I sigh inwardly, really just wishing I could be alone right now.

But, no such luck.

"Yo, baby girl," Jake calls, sprawl-legged on the couch and madly thumbing the controls on his game console, "wanna see me beat Jesse's ass?"

"Nah, man-"

"Um," I squeak out, too quiet. "I'm okay, thanks."

"Aww, c'mere," he pats his lap. "C'mon, babe. You want chips, coke? Anything you need, I gotcha. Dude, pass those chips over."

Trudging across the living room floor, I let myself be pulled down onto Jake's lap. He kisses my temple and adjusts me so I'm lying against his front with my ass pressed snugly against his crotch. He's a construction worker, late twenties with a sturdy build and heavily-tanned skin. He's pretty chill.

"You smell good, baby doll."

"Thanks... You too..."

"So how you doing, anyways?"

"Um, I'm okay." A bag of chips and can of Diet Coke are placed in my lap; I start eating mechanically.

"We missed you." Austin takes his eyes off the TV to nuzzle my neck, one hand smoothing along my thigh towards my crotch. I munch on my chips and try to follow the game unfolding on the screen as the hand dips into my waistband.