Notting Hill in Manhattan [t. c]

part two

  Timothée was looking at the different stores that were opened down the street. It surprised him how Manhattan could be so full of life and still be so peaceful. He smiled to himself. He's been thinking of that since he has memory, at the end, he was born here.

  As he turned around the corner of the bookshop for the first time after he had bought his books, he was looking for his car but apparently, the chauffeur of the family —who so kindly offered to drive him even if he insisted he'd walk around the city— was nowhere to be found.

  He wasn't bothered by it, for being alone was his original plan, but still, a glimpse of concern washed over him, at the end, being who he is and standing all by yourself in the same spot could get a little problematic. Even if he had no problem in meeting his fans, what he had a problem with were the paparazzi and everything the media could say on the magazines and newspapers.Recently they like to pick on every little 'suspicious' action to start a gossip that's as big as the Titanic or as big as the iceberg that sank the Titanic.

  He sighed and decided to turn around the corner again as he looked at the street for the black and fancy Volkswagen when he collided with someone.

  "Shit!" He yelped as well as the girl. His clothes felt cold and the scent of orange juice filled his nose as he felt the grey and white fabric of his shit and jacket respectively getting stuck to his pale skin. When he looked down —because the other individual's way shorter than him— he spotted the blonde girl from the bookshop.

"Oh boy." She said as her brown eyes locked with his green ones. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She said with worry and kindness.

"It's okay, I'm sorry." He placed the hand that wasn't carrying any purchases into his pocket and started looking for a napkin or something he could give to Annalise in order to try to remove the orange juice stain from her cardigan but he couldn't find anything.

She grunted as she made an effort to pull the stained and sticky fabric away from her with no use. Then their eyes met again and he could see how she studied him from head to toe, spotting that the one who received the impact of the juice was him and all his clothes were stained with orange.

"Oh man, I'm really sorry...I live across the street. I have water and soap...like everyone else has." Lise shook her head realising she had said something 'dumb', or that she thought it had been, she's very expressive, but Tim found it cute. "You can get cleaned up if you'd like."

"No, thank you I just need to get my car back, find Dave I mean." He started to look around too and spotted how a bunch of people were looking at them and he wondered if they'd recognise him.

"I also have a phone, perhaps if you call Dave he can come around and pick you up." He smiled at her and meditated for a second. She was worried. "Please. Is the least I could do." He sighed and licked his lips as he thought.

"Alright. So, where's your house?" She smiled with relief.

"The one with the red door, it's literally eighteen meters away."

"Lise." The girl that was sitting and reading in the bookshop while he was there called. She was standing in between a red haired woman and a curly haired guy that's almost as tall as Chalamet himself. "Oh...you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." She walked up to them and handed over the bag that Timothée assumed had food inside. "Take this and cover me, I'll be right back." She told the red haired girl who obviously recognised him because her blue eyes were glued to him. "Um, this way." She added and looked at him kindly. Before they walked away, he smiled at the people who walked out of the cozy shop before he followed behind her.