French-American |t.c|

seven

Everything is perfect. The grand room had been done up to perfection, not a decoration out of place, the music had everyone jumping off the walls, the food was perfect, Nai was dressed immaculately and all the people she loved were surrounding her.

It brought her a certain glow of happiness to see everyone excited over their modelling careers. Nai had been working the room, her charming aura enticing everyone she spoke to, including all the newcomers to the modelling industry.

It was already a night for the books.

Once she was finished with her second round of the room, Nai makes her way back to her friends. 

In her group of friends, there was Maggie Black; a global superstar Nai rarely got to see. Sammy Edwards; was once a part of the biggest boyband to take the world on and is now a solo artist who often dabbles in modelling. Cleo Walters; one of Nai's best friends and well-rounded models she knew and Blake Canye; Nia's relationship with Blake began when Cleo set them up on a very awkward blind date. Needless to say, a romantic relationship didn't work out between them and instead, a friendship blossomed.

It had been a while since she'd seen her friends, the telling smile on Nai's face was all that was needed to know about the way she was feeling.

"It looks like your man is here," Maggie rises her head up off Sammy's shoulder. Her words come out in a slur and it takes Nai a moment for her intoxicated mind to register that she's addressing her. "Ni, look,"

Her words fall on deaf ears as Sammy drops the food he's feeding Maggie causing us all to erupt in laughter. Maggie's reaction being the funniest part of it all, all drunk and mad, it's enough to keep the group in laughter for a moment longer.

That is until a soft clearing of the throat and a tap on her shoulder, causes Nai to turn around.

Immediately, her laughter catches in her throat as she sees who's before her. The man who'd been on her mind more than she would've liked. The someone she spent the first week being home, mad at, right in front of her.

It was like one of those moments where she should've directed all her anger at him; given him a piece of her mind, she had nothing to lose.

But in reality, all she could do was take in his beauty. Standing before her with a nervous smile on his perfectly sculptured face (perfectly sculptured? Really Nai? You've been drinking too much) and his perfect hair, looking all perfect (yeah, you need better adjectives), was Timothée Chalamet.

It didn't make sense that he could make a deep blue silk shirt and black suit pants look so attractive. It was an effortless attraction too; the sleeves rolled back to his elbow, showing off his forearms he'd occasionally flex, the simple gold jewellery on his fingers, wrist, neckline, and ears, it was a lot for Nai's drunk mind to handle.

Judging from Timothée's nervous smile being replaced with a mischievous smirk, Nai knew he could tell that it was a lot for her to handle.

"Hi, welcome," snapping out of her drunken daze, Nai reaches forward and pulls Timothée in for a friendly hug without thinking about the impact of him being that close to her.

It takes everything in her for her mind to not go to Italy and when he'd place his hand on her lower back as he was doing now, and push her body harder on his. Or the places his hands would then find themselves, especially those long slender fingers.

Not thinking about that at all.

"Uh, I've been here for a while Nai. Just thought I'd finally say hi since you're not working the room." Timothée's laugh vibrates in her ear before they part. He's still smiling when he relaxes to his normal position.