𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 • 🖤 • 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐭

VI - for now at least

"So will you be my mentor?" Amelie joked trying to laugh off the awkwardness.

"Yeah, sure - I mean I'm not sure how much there is that I can teach you. I'm a beginner myself." He readjusted himself in his seat, both hands in his lap.

"Oh don't be so modest. I've seen your films." Amelie crossed her legs again.

Their food arrived and they sat and ate with comfortable conversation. Chit chatting, both breaking in and out of French, Amelie finding it easier to accept the fact that Timothée saw her as a friend.

"So Miel, what's going on with that Louis guy?" Timothée asked, Amelie looked up as soon as he said that.

"Miel?" She asked.

"Well, Melie doesn't sound right - I like Miel as a nickname." He stared at his coffee.

Amelie smiled into her lap. Honey. His nickname for her was honey. Honey in French. She was his French honey?

Then she grinned. Realising he had read those articles too.

"So you've been looking me up too?" She raised an eyebrow, fiddling with her napkin.

Timothée shrugged. "Maybe."

"Okay, if you get to give me a nickname I'm finding one for you." She smiled.

"You didn't answer the question." Timothée laughed, but his diction hinted to something behind those words.

Amelie looked out the window. "Hmm, I don't know how to explain that ... situation." She watched the people bustling around.

"Well, we met around a year ago. But we're not dating or anything..."

He looked unsatisfied at her answer but she convinced herself she was making that up in her head.

"I did some work experience on Enola Holmes, just being a runner - mostly getting extremely confusing coffee orders." She laughed. He didn't say anything, waiting for her to say more.

"I don't know." She drifted off. "I care for him." She admitted. "We became pretty close."

He nodded and she found herself clasping for a subject change. "Are you looking forward to the movie?" She asked.

Timothée nodded and glanced at how nervous the girl before him looked. He hadn't meant to make her feel uncomfortable. It was what he liked about her, how at ease she was around him.

The finished their meal and got up walking to the movie theatre. They saw people taking photos again. Amelie walked with about two feet apart between them.

Lost in her memories of London and Louis. All that history, that she had spent so much effort into keeping away from New York. She should've known you can never out run your past.

They walked past a costume store and before Timothée could understand what Amelie was doing she grabbed his hand and dragged him in with her.

"What are you doing?" He laughed. She giggled and it sent his heart rate up. He couldn't understand why, she just had that effect on him.

"Come on!" She called, excited. She pulled him through the aisles to the mask section. "We've got to find a disguise." That grin that he kept seeing in his subconscious, broke out onto her face like sunlight.

"Hmm, only if I get to pick yours." He started picking ones out. Until he found the perfect one. It was a cat, a pink cat mask with whiskers and glitter: Amelie saw and rolled her eyes.

"Fine, I'll get you one." She disappeared around the corner and came back with skull mask. He rolled his eyes back at her.

"Turn around then." She did as instructed. He placed the mask on her face, his thumb grazing against her cheek.

He looked at her lips, and how her eyes were shut and let himself revel in her beauty. How innocent she was of her beauty.

He tied it around her head and she spun around.

"Well, how do I look?" She chuckled. He laughed a little.

"Miel you look," his laughter stopped. "Perfect." His voice barely above a whisper.

Amelie, too scared of what she would do with him speaking like that handed his over to him. "You're a big boy you can do it yourself." She mocked.

He bit his lip and tried not to laugh at how odd all of this was. Amelie averted her eyes at the sight of such perfection. She decided that's how she'd always like to see him - holding back his laugh.

She slammed some money on the counter and they hurried out of the store, late for the movie.

Timothée kept his promise paying for the tickets as they ducked into the movie theatre trying not to disturb anybody.

He followed her in with a big bucket of popcorn and they sat side by side.

The movie began and Amelie's heart couldn't stop pounding. Convincing herself it was from her lack of fitness, but nevertheless she was petrified it was so loud he could hear it too.

As the screen filled with two lovers, one of the greatest pieces of romantic cinema to date, their knees seemed to float to touch the other.

She looked at his profile lit by the screen light. His cheekbones causing hollow shadows and his eyebrows knitted. He looked so focused she loved it.

Neither could focus too much on the movie, rather the intimacy of this event. Amelie cursed herself knowing she'd have to watch this twice in order to write her essay.

Suddenly she felt a jolt of adrenaline as Timothée's fingers drew small circles on the back of her hand.

She closed her eyes for a moment and then realised how dangerous this was.

It had happened before, with Louis and she couldn't let herself feel quite like this so soon again.

She drew her hand back into her lap. Throughout the whole movie she didn't dare reach for the popcorn for the fear of brushing hands with his again.

It was too much for her, a seven year age difference and yet she felt so inclined to be around him.

As if something within her soul was begging her to fall for him: but she couldn't allow that to happen.

They had to be just friends. She didn't admit to herself that the end of that sentence was: for now at least.