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P R E T T Y G I R L ❛ yeah i know it makes you nervous, but i promise you it's worth it ❜ (twenty seven )
_
the first time he said it, you tried really hard not to let it occupy a lot of space in your mind.
timothée was a special breed of best friend: he could be the sweetest, clingiest thing in the world at times but he could also be the type to call you weirdo and loser and wrestle with you for the damn remote control.
you didn't mind it, though. you liked having that kind of bond with him.
(sometimes you liked it too much.)
but what he said that day caught you off-guard because he wasn't very keen on nice pet names, at least not with you. everything had always been very platonic between the two of you.
it happened very quickly, so quickly you almost didn't bother to make it a thing.
"will you pass me that popcorn pack?" he motioned towards the counter of his kitchen where the pack was. (movie night.) you didn't even look as you grabbed it and tossed it at him. "thanks, pretty girl." and then you looked.
timothée pulled out a pan, seemingly not stopping to think about the words that had come out of his mouth. unlike you.
"what?" you said.
he turned around with a tiny frown. he hesitated. "what?"
you let out a nervous chuckle. "the thing you just said."
"what thing i just said?"
does he want me to slap him? is that it?
"timothée. you just called me pretty girl. did you notice that?"
he didn't answer right away. he just stood there with a slight pout. after a couple seconds of silence, he started making the popcorn. he shrugged. "you're a girl, right y/n? and you're pretty. pretty girl." he glanced at his feet (rather, at his white socks). "are you... cool with that?"
you sat on the idea for a moment. his explanation was enough but not enough at the same time. it felt like a very limited answer, but he wasn't giving you a plausible reason not to believe him.
so you gave him a shrug and said, "sure."
after that, the night went on. for him, that is. not so much for you.
