Timothee.

chapter seventeen. carter.

From the moment I stepped into Timmy's apartment, I knew that she wasn't the one. Every time I saw him with a girl, she wasn't a girl. She was a woman. Every woman I saw him with had evoked such passion and a willingness to stand her ground. In other words, they never took shit from anybody.
They were always outspoken, even I could never outwit a woman Timothée was with, and I had a reputation for doing so.
Maybe it was my fault that he decided to stoop below what he normally chooses, because of last summer.

Don't get me wrong, Adele was beautiful. My breath was taken the way the minute I saw her cooking those oats. She was breath taking... of course. You can be beautiful but you can also be weak. I knew that I was harsh, but I'd seen something like this unfold before and well... it didn't end well. Exhibit A? Last summer.

Timothée and I had been in Italy that summer which consisted of constant bike rides, exploring abandoned places that we shouldn't have, and getting drunk off our asses constantly humiliating ourselves in front of every beautiful girl. The women knew who he was, at least a few of them did. The younger girls. They would fawn over him, and ask him to speak French for them. I thought it was hilarious. I had my fair share of girls trying too hard, but I never paid them any mind. Which brings me to Florence.

The one thing Florence and I had in common was being two black people in a ridiculously racist place. I liked her, because although she was shy she was self aware. I think that's what Timothée liked about her too. She could joke, and she just well... She understood. As one could imagine it was the longest summer of my life.
I'm not a teen drama kind of guy, but I'd watched my fair share of the Vampire Diaries. That's what it felt like. Timothée had been Stefan and I was Damon, and we were fighting over a girl that we both had no chance with because she was too perfect. Well... stereotypically perfect. Shy, beautiful, smart, self aware, funny... the list goes on.

I had never gone out of character until I found myself fighting with Timothée over a girl we had only known for about a month. He would take her on riverside picnics, feeding her strawberries, and spoiling her with Chanel perfumes and diamond earrings.
I was the one who would take her to a movie and told her that her lips tasted like strawberries, while also spoiling her with diamonds. It's no question that we had spent a lot of money on the girl, and everybody knew how much we loved her. But nobody knew how she felt about us.

Then when I thought about it... when I really looked at Adele and her mannerisms. I realized how similar she was to Florence. I realized how much Timothée would hurt her, when he realized that she was nothing like her. I realized that he was going to spiral. He was using her, and then I realized we were going down the same path we were in Italy.

*

Adele had told me off no doubt, and the funny thing was she was so nervous after she did it. "Sorry... I'll back off." Is all that I said. Timothée laughed once again, swirling his wine around in his glass. The silence was awkward, and Timothée's grin had quickly faded once he saw my face. He knew exactly what I was thinking. Why was she the one defending them. "Well maybe I should go to bed. It's been a long day for me. We can go out tomorrow, yeah?" I finished my wine and set it on the coffee table, standing up to fetch my blow up mattress.
"I can sleep out here Timothée," Adele said, obviously feeling guilty about taking up the bedroom, "You deserve at least one night of sleeping in your bed." Obviously, feeling the weight of the wine in his head he walked closer to her. I peeked through the wide of my mattress.
"Why don't we just sleep in it together?" He smirked, his hands firmly on her hips. Immediately her eyes widened, and I have to admit so did mine. He felt it too. The competition. Before I could even put my mattress down, they had walked to the room.