ALPHA || TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET

001

2018
Somewhere in New York City

It's a shivering evening as I walk down the street, my hands stuffed into the pockets of my long grey trench coat, black leather boots scuffing the sidewalk. My cheeks are pink from the temperature.

I'm headed towards the bar on 7th and 1st to meet up with the guy I matched last night on a dating app.

Last night I was ranting to Lara, my best friend and roommate, that although I wasn't eager for anything close to a relationship until who knows when, I happened to really miss the sex. "I still have that Raya invite I can send you!" she suggested. And I caved.

After 20 minutes of swiping induced by half a bottle of Chardonnay, and right when I was going to give up, his profile stopped me in my tracks.

Timothée, 23

4 miles away

I took in his profile picture. Brown hair hanging in loose curls around his face, long enough to part on the side and place behind his ears. Pale complexion, carved-out jawline. A slender figure, maybe a hundred forty pounds soaking wet. From the picture, his eyes looked like drops of caramel. He was...dreamy. He also looked strangely familiar — a noteworthy model at the very least

I clicked on his profile, swiped right, and immediately received the match notification. Fuck it, I thought as I started typing.

hey!

heyyy :) how's it going?

good thanks! you?

super. your picture's really cute. are you local?

thank you:) so is yours. and yeah i am, you?

looks like you're not too far from me then. yes i am

have you lived here long?

yeah! grew up in manhattan, hell's kitchen, a thorough new yorker

It was around that point that alarms began going off in my head, and I realized why he looked so familiar. Timothée, as in actor Timothée Chalamet.

saw lady bird a couple months ago. willing to believe you're not too similar to your character.

hahaha🥸
promise i'm nothing like him in real life.
did you see call me by your name?

don't hate me, but i haven't, though i always hear about it!! i know it's an outstanding film. haha i'm sorry

nooo don't apologize! i do agree that it's the most beautiful film ever but i'm biased

we could talk more in person perhaps. tomorrow?

I felt my stomach start to drop at the proposal for a potential date. He messaged again:

definitely don't have to call it a date - you just seem chill

okay! yeah, i'm free

there's that bar on 7th and 1st, you know where that is?

yup

sweet. how's 10 sound?

sounds good

cool, see you then :)

see ya!

From the tone of our messages that night and the next day, it was clear that neither of us were in for anything serious. I mean, I for sure wasn't. It had only been around four months or so since I filed a restraining order and moved into a new apartment - it was definitely too soon to throw myself into anything. Of course, he didn't need to know that right now.

There are so many things I should be worried about. I haven't done this since, maybe, my sophomore year of college? I am surrendering to the casualties of unspecial sex.

And what's one night out? Fuck it. I push away the intrusive thoughts that comes with those of Luke.

I arrive at the bar, and from the door, I see him already sitting at the counter, his back towards me. Even from just pictures, I'm sure it's him. His brown hair sits in messy waves, the arch of his shoulders and back under a worn leather jacket.

I walk over. The stool scuffs the floor as I take a seat, and he looks up at the movement.

"Oh, hey," he says, turning in his stool towards me.

And immediately I notice he's even more attractive in person. Slender and skinny, but even while sitting down, I can tell he's much taller than me.

"Hi." I stick out a hand. "Marley." I figure if we're just having a mess of drunken sex tonight, I would at least make a professional introduction.

"I know," he replies, the corners of his mouth curling upwards, his eyes changing shape when he smiles. Changing color, too, I think.

His eyes are definitely like caramel, but with the slightest hint of green. It's hard to really say. His skin looks nearly airbrushed, his cheekbones and jawline chiseled like an ancient Greek sculpture.

I immediately take in his vibe; he holds himself in such a composed manner, furthering his earlier statement of growing up in New York and knowing his way around the city. The black leather jacket adds somewhat of a bad-boy vibe, despite his baby-faced features, and I have to admit to myself that he's definitely cuter than in the pictures.

He glances at my hand, still stuck out in front of him, as I'm still surveying his features. "You shake."

"Oh - um," I stammer, kicking myself internally for being so awkward and letting my hand drop, when he catches it.

"Timmy." He shakes my limp hand. "Nice to meet you."

I regain composure and shake back. Our hands stay locked for a good moment, his lingering, focused eye contact stirring something up in my gut, and I need to find out what it is. In any case, I'm almost certain our subconsciouses have committed to whatever lovemaking might come next.

Sex. Did I say lovemaking? I meant sex.

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