Long Timothee Chalamet Stories

The One (P2)

Warnings - therapy, mention of masturbation, emotionally cheating

I hadn't stopped thinking about Timothée since that day in the restaurant. How was this possible? We were both matched. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Hello?" The voice I remembered said.

"It's the girl, from the restaurant," I said.

"Oh," he sounded relieved. As if he'd been carrying around a weight, and I'd helped him remove it.

"H-how is this happening?" I asked.

"I don't know, all I know is I don't feel much of anything with Harper, but with you, it's like I've always been told matches meeting is supposed to be."

"Me too," I said in a small voice.

"I don't even know your name," he laughed.

"Y/n, y/n y/l/n," I said, and I decided I adored his laugh.

"Do, do you think, naw it's silly," he said.

"What?" I asked. "I'll take any explanation you've got, because this is ridiculous. If this is real then we're the first ones ever to not love our matches."

"Do you think the attraction is just....sexual?" He asked.

"No, I didn't think of you sexually when I first saw you. I just felt like I'd known you all my life, and that it was obvious we were meant to be together," I told him honestly. I was so glad I'd turned down Theo's offer to move in together straight away, matched we may be, but he was moving too fast. I then imagined Timothée asking me and my immediate answer would be yes. I wanted to be around him as much as possible.

"I felt the same way, it's why I dropped everything," he told me in hushed tones. I wondered if his match was around, or if he, like I, felt like we shouldn't even be discussing this.

"Have you, well have you thought of me sexually since then? Because I can't get you out of my head. I've never masturbated so much in my entire life, including puberty. My breath hitched at his words. Yes, my vibrator had to be constantly charging from how often I'd used it, moaning his name like a prayer he'd appear and fuck me for real.

"Yes," I said in a whisper.

"Have you?"

"Yes," I affirmed.

"Fuck," he cursed, and it was so sexy I could hardly take it.

"What do we do?" I asked.

"I think we should meet up, see if it was just a fluke," he said, but I knew what he truly wanted was to see me again.

"I have a therapy appointment in thirty minutes, I want to discuss it with her. Why don't you send me a location in case. I'm guessing you don't want me coming to yours," I said.

"On the contrary, Harper and I don't live together. She actually lives a decent way across town so she always gives me a heads up when she's about to drive over so she isn't wasting gas."

"So, yours then?" I asked.

"If that's okay?"

"Yes, yes that's fine," I agreed, biting my nails.

"Perhaps I'll see you then," he said.

"Yes," I agreed. We said our goodbyes and hung up. I nervously drove to therapy, his voice running through my head. I analyzed everything I'd heard.

"You are thinking of going behind your match's back, to meet a man you met once? I don't have to tell you this sounds like the exact premise of a horror novel I read like week," my therapist said.

"I know, but the connection, it was so strong," I tried to explain. She looked odd. She had never given me this look in all my years of therapy. She looked scared, scared for me.

"My advice is forget him," she said sternly.

"But I-"

"This is my professional advice," she said sternly. After the visit, I didn't feel any better. I glanced at Timothée's text. My heart pounded harder just looking at words he'd typed. I had to go, I had to know.