ALPHA || TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET

026

After getting home from work, I immediately opened my laptop and looked up flights to San Francisco. Throughout the rest of my shift, I didn't stop thinking about Timmy and everything he'd told me, but in the back of my mind, thoughts lingered from when I mentioned my jealousy at him being in the same hometown as his parents. I realized a trip home might be a good decision.

To be frank, it'd been quite the disorderly past month. Yes, I'm happier than I've been in a long time. But my emotions had been an emotional roller coaster ever since that haphazard night at the bar, marked by impulse and chance. I hated everything I'd brought upon myself, always giving in to how strongly I'm drawn to him. Yet, I didn't regret a single thing.

I'd placed that paper coffee sleeve folded into my pocket, later storing it neatly in my wallet. Rosie understood when I said I didn't want to talk about it quite yet, as I needed time to process everything he and I had said.

The excitement and stress of it all had somehow kept my stomach turning for the rest of my shift, reminding me that uncertainty still has quite the home in my head.

After the prices on the flight website began to stress me out, I shut my laptop for the night. Then I reached into my purse, pulled out my wallet, and took out the paper sleeve. Running my finger over the places his ink had marked the surface, I held it to my mouth for a moment, pondering what this meant. What was suddenly, truly, very much happening.

But the uncertainty. It was still there. Giving trust to someone with no guarantee. I'd gone through hell and back, and wasn't about to do it again. And I feel terrible thinking that, because Timmy is most definitely not Luke, not one bit, not at all. Everything with him feels completely different, like new. It's like new with him.

"It's a phone number, Marley. Just text him," Lara had said before we both went to bed.

"But it's not just a phone number, it's granting him an even bigger portion of access into my life! That is a big deal!"

"So you're good with fucking him like what, four, five times? But! You can't even manage the guts to text him. Someone help her."

After pointing out my illogical thinking, she reminded me gently, "this is right in front of you. This is a good thing, and it's right in front of you. We can't be afraid of these things, we can't be concerned about the right timing or the right circumstances. We just have to take these chances and let them have their way."

**********

Three days later, I'm sitting on the couch with my laptop open, credit card in my hand. It's the evening, and there's a flight that goes out much later tonight, and if I were to pack quickly enough, I'd make it. Rosie would understand and find my shift replacements. I could go home for a few days, see my family and old friends and San Francisco.

But then, almost completely unrelated, I'm thinking about the last morning I'd left Timothée's house. My gut stops me in my tracks from buying this flight. Lara is right. This one good thing. It's right in front of me. I couldn't fly home with this weighing on me; sure, he'd be here when I returned, but it's all I'd be thinking about while I'm gone. Things are unfinished. The ball is in my court. And it's only been three days, but I'm already tired of starving the both of us.

He might feel like a fantasy, but he sure as hell isn't one. He's real.

Suddenly I'm sliding the laptop onto the couch, springing up and darting into my room, fishing around for the coffee sleeve, nearly having a heart attack until I feel the rough paper between my fingers.

Yep. Still real.

I take a long look at myself in the mirror, taking a deep breath before my fingers shakily type the number into my phone.

I type out my address, signing my name at the bottom. And press send.